"Imagine, if you will, a man so reviled that his family name has become synonymous with the word 'tyrant'. This is the sad, dark legacy Fridewald Burchard Hrolf Adalia III left behind, a curse almost as powerful as the one that now enshrines the Necropolis he once called home. The story of him and the Adalian Empire spans centuries of bloodshed and atrocity, and a single semester of class time is capable of covering but a scant few drops of that ocean at most."

- "The Rise and Fall of Adalia”, a lecture course conducted by Arcane History Professor Maaseti Boro of St. Melantha’s University 

"First off," began Nemira as she led him up the stairs to their living quarters. "I thought you and Dame Lyn were good friends. Did she not tell you she was at the head of the pack of knights that had invaded my store to ask for my help in finding you? She looked legitimately afraid that if my rescue attempt proved unsuccessful, they'd have to go out to the Road themselves and mercy kill you."

"She told me," he said. He sounded as though merely speaking of his fellow knight wore him out. "Then she immediately followed it up by making me promise her and at least six of our colleagues that I'll be the one paying for everyone's drinks the next time we all had a free evening to meet at a bar."

Nemira laughed as they made it up to her living room, stopping just long enough to turn on the lights before striding over to the balcony doors. "That's not too bad, Sai-em."

"And the reason we haven't met up for drinks lately is because Lyn has made a game of stealing women from random men in the city," Sai-em continued, his words more dour by the second as they squeezed onto the small balcony together. Nighttime had fallen in full at that point. The air was crisply cold. Nemira shivered a little, glad she had put her cloak back on, and began to climb the steep steps up to the roof. "Bar night inevitably gets interrupted by an enraged gentleman looking to fight the knight who lured his lady away or one of Lyn's clingier paramours wondering why she isn't visiting her more often. I'm simply trying to enjoy a beer or two, not help Lyn deal with her absolutely abysmal love life."

"Oh, dear. I suppose that's a little worse." Nemira thought back to Beatrice and shook her head. Her friend had fallen into quite the pickle, it seemed. "Please tell me she's otherwise a decent soul."

Sai-em hesitated. Then, with what sounded like the utmost reluctance, he admitted, "She's utterly frivolous and can stick her foot in her mouth several times in a single conversation but... she was one of the first to approach me in friendship when I first joined the Allegiant. Eclipse Order knight she may be, but a person's status does not mean much to her. There's an honorable warrior under all her coarseness and irreverence. And for as much womanizing as she does, I don't think she treats any of her lovers poorly. Which is what I'm assuming concerns you and the Lady Rainier the most."

"I have no idea what you mean by that."

"Of course not, Kha-hesh. Forgive my assumption."

One after the other, they stepped onto the roof of the building. It was still quite damp after the rains of a few days ago and the cool weather. Nemira looked at the giant stone bowl before them and snapped her fingers. Her pneuma burst from the dish like a mighty bonfire, leaving her momentarily breathless from the sudden transfer between her body and the device.

"Behold," said Nemira, taking the note she and Beatrice had written out of her pocket as she approached the fiery dish. "This is the Summoner's Grand Lamp, an invention of the Council itself. Not only does it function as an aetherian attractor, it serves as a direct line of communication with my employers in case of an emergency."

She tossed the note into the fire without further ceremony. Instead of burning to a crisp, it disappeared entirely. Satisfied, she turned to Sai-em. "And I haven't the faintest clue how it works."

"That's it?" asked Sai-em, looking a little nonplussed.

"That's it." She sat on the lip of the bowl and patted the spot beside her. "And now we wait. Shouldn't take more than half an hour or so until we get a response."

Sai-em sat down next to her, heedless of the cold wetness underneath him. He gazed upward at the sky, and Nemira followed suit. In Viridian Hills, the stars were so clear Nemira felt she could touch them if she flew just a bit higher than normal. In downtown Coine, they were much more hazy, winking dimly between the wisps of passing clouds. Much closer, a few clusters of multicolored lights swirled through the air like swarms of bees, aetherians traveling wherever they willed. 

“What is this history lesson you wished to give me?” asked Sai-em presently.

Nemira held onto the edge of the lamp and leaned back, arching her spine for a good joint-popping stretch. “I require a second opinion, my good knight. You seem sensible most of the time, but lack crucial context. So I will give you a quick overview of a certain era before I ask my question. Lucky for you, I graduated with honors in arcane history. I assure you that the quality of my knowledge meets even the most stringent expectations of academic rigor.”

“I am not that intelligent of a nephilim,” he said, voice quiet and obnoxiously humble. “And only attended compulsory education besides. I greatly look forward to the Kha-hesh’s—”

She sat back up and pointed an aggressive finger at him. “And will you please do something about that excessive formality! I keep telling you, Sai-em, it’s not necessary. Even the oldest, most curmudgeonly head monks at the temple called me Nemira-heshi in private after a while. Try talking to me more like you’d speak to Dame Lyn or your other compatriots in the Knights Allegiant.”

He made a face. "I...will not be that casual with you, but I will try to relax a little more. Please give me some time."

She frowned at how he sounded no less uptight than he had a moment ago, but she decided to save the continued grilling for another day. Instead, she flipped through her mental book of past lecture notes until she found a good place to begin. "In truth, with just a bachelor's degree under my belt and no formal teaching credentials to speak of, I am not actually qualified for the task at hand. Thus, with this official disclaimer out of the way, let's start with a question. What would you say is the most influential arcane tragedy in human history?"

She looked up at Sai-em and watched him think it over. She wasn't surprised he was taking her question seriously, but it did tickle her a little. "The splintering of Old Yamba."

Nemira clapped. "Excellent answer, my pupil! Indeed, the destruction of much of Old Yamba's landmass was caused by an overuse of Void sorcery, the favorite weapon of the ancient kings and warlords of the continent. The actual incident that led to the Exodus is hotly contested, but the important part is that in the end, the Void sorcery Old Yamban rulers coveted so much also led to their ruination. This trend is echoed in the second most influential arcane tragedy of human history: Fridewald III and his bloody Adalian Empire."

"All I know about that," admitted Sai-em. "Is how the Beloved Summoner turned against the tyrant Fridewald and died to his husband's own blade."

She nodded. "Naturally. It is an event chronicled by practically every other book, song, play, and painting that exists in the Tetriat. The First Consort of Emperor Fridewald, that nameless man no doubt plucked from one of the many little towns or villages in the north the Adalian army set fire to. Handsome, erudite, and charming, by all accounts. How could Fridewald resist such a gem?"

Nemira stood up from the edge of the bowl and began to pace before Sai-em, her mind rotating in the comforting grooves of history. "His marriage to the Beloved Summoner proved to be his ultimate undoing. No matter how many riches he showered his favorite consort with or how lovingly he treated him, he could never blind the Beloved Summoner to what Fridewald did to all other summoners that fell into his clutches."

"I will never understand the ugly obsession some have with my distant kin," Sai-em said, disgust laced between his words. "They are not weapons to be swung around at will. Not without dire consequence."

"Why would an emperor care about consequence?" She stopped her pacing and stared at Sai-em. "Why would an emperor care that almost all his experiments in the pursuit of creating his own battalion of summoners piled our bodies to the roof of his palace? The only avenue he ever gave up on was trying to force a summoner's existence via birth, and that's because that method quickly and horrifically proved impossible. Certainly, it wasn't out of pity for what that does to the womb and the fetus."

Nemira looked back up at the night sky and the twinkling aetherian lights scattered throughout. "But the Beloved Summoner had pity in spades. He wrote almost nonstop and in secret from his darling emperor. The writings he kept in the Spiral Palace have yet to be retrieved out of the Necropolis, but many of his letters to New Yamba and Rhuz and Vittora survived. He worked tirelessly in the opposite direction of Fridewald, tapping arcane experts from every country he could reach without being too conspicuous until he combined all the wisdom he had sought out to create the Aetheric Script and the contract between summoner and aetherian. No longer do we have to call upon an aetherian's entire supernatural might with long and exhausting incantations for every summoning, but are given just a tiny mutually-agreed upon portion of their power for our use. Thanks to the Beloved Summoner, I will never have to worry about my art cutting my lifespan shorter with every use."

"And I thank the Beloved Summoner profusely, and pray his spirit has reached the comforting light of paradise," Sai-em said. "But what does any of this have to do with the Council?"

"I was waiting for you to ask that." Nemira returned to his side and sat down next to him again. "The Council arose soon after Fridewald’s execution. They use the Beloved Summoner’s rose emblem and gather us summoners under their protection, but why? The rulers of Old Yamba had obvious, documented goals and Fridewald and his whole accursed family were the same as them and all other wannabe world-conquerors. The Beloved Summoner’s aims were written down clear as day. There is nothing like that for the Council. No textbook provides any details of them, those telegrams I get dissipate after twenty four hours, and their non-summoning agents are completely unknown. I spent a year under their care before my mothers adopted me, and the only mortal I ever saw in that great, cavernous place was the man who took care of me. I am working for an organization as solid as a shadow, and I have never once been able to decide if this is a good idea.”

“Then return to the mountains.”

Nemira looked up at Sai-em once again. His eyes were very intense. “That is the second opinion I give you. The Temple of our Kin would welcome you back with open arms and honor you and your mothers as you deserve, and there’s nothing the monks wish to hide from you or anyone else. They are what this Council should be.”

She dropped her gaze and interlaced her fingers in her lap. “I can’t. I…there’s a reason I chose to work in Coine. I would like to complete it one day, and Rhuz is simply too far away for me to do so. Even beyond that, Coine so rarely gets a summoner. All those people Fridewald killed trying to build his summoner warriors, all the aetherians he threw at Coine to get the city-state to submit to his will…we summoners can feel the ceaseless writhing of those restless dead. It’s an uncomfortable place to work. But someone has to be here, and I can bear it well. I must stay and guide this land’s aetherians to a peaceful coexistence with us mortals.”

Silence rang across the roof, interrupted only by the steady crackling of her pneuma behind them. Then Sai-em slid off his seat and knelt before her, head bowed.

“I am not of the Council,” he said. “And the Order of Nova can count me among them only so long as they mean you no harm. I am your dayam above all things, even if you go back to the mountains and must leave me behind. No matter what you decide, know that I am ever and always with you.”

Nemira nibbled her lip. His words were so convincing she almost hated him for how relieved she felt to hear them. But before she could thank him or tell him to relax, the Lamp gave a loud and startling pop.

“A reply!” Nemira reached up and caught the heavy, folded piece of paper the Lamp had spat out before it could fall to the ground. She unfolded it with one hand and grabbed Sai-em’s bare wrist with the other, keeping her grip on him so that they could read it together.

WE ACKNOWLEDGE THE WARNING. THE GRIM SUMMONER’S TASKS HAVE NOT CHANGED. PROCEED TO SAINT YARROW’S BURIAL GROUNDS AND UPHOLD YOUR DUTY.