Later, after all the men were brought together, they marched up to the temple and strolled right into the inner sanctuary. Right, if only they were that lucky. They couldn’t even touch the bleeding doors, dammit! Every time they tried that stupid force threw them back, no matter how many men charged it at once.

One of the men came up to Brome, doubtless to report the latest magnificent failure. “Captain, should we send more men at the doors, or should we use siege weapons? The latest attempt failed, by the way-”

“Do you think my eyes are for show, you dimwit?!” Brome bellowed. The poor kid looked hurt, maybe he was a bit too harsh. “Sorry, I’m just a bit annoyed right now. Our mission was doomed from the start, the worst case scenario is we all die, the best case scenario is we go home without even getting to knock on the front door, and that bloody nobleman isn’t here yet!”

“Sorry, I overslept!” It was the Young Master, running over while still putting on his robes. Well they called him that, but no one remembered his real name, and no one really cared to. He was a short, pudgy blonde kid dressed in blue silk, about 20 years old, and they only took him along because the mission called for it; rather, he called for it and threatened to take his business elsewhere if they refused. “Oh, and you don’t want to try siege equipment,” he said, “you’ll only end up hurting yourselves. The ward on this door reflects any and all physical force used on it; you might as well be firing at your own men. No amount of brute strength can get you inside. And why do you have so many men here? I told you last night that you should only take a few dozen men at most, not the whole army.”

And this was why they hated him. Oh, he was cheerful enough, but he was condescending, naive, arrogant, and probably had no idea how entitled he sounded. He just ordered them around with a please and a thank you, and expected them to live off his grateful smiles.

“What the bleeding hells to you expect us to do then?” Brome said. “You’re the one who insisted on coming along, so-”

“Simple, let me handle this. It’s why I came along after all.”

Brome had just about had enough. He was going to throttle this stupid nobleman, and damn the consequences, when he noticed the Young Master was glowing. As he started to realize what was going on, the brat began to write silvery blue glyphs in the air, and speak words that were lost in peals of thunder. Brome had seen Mathon, the company’s strongest wizard, cast magic before, and he knew that this spoiled nobleman who everyone had been mocking behind his back was ten times as powerful. No wonder the commanders hadn’t sent a wizard to help Brome. He already had one.

Suddenly a curtain of golden light appeared in front of the temple’s shining bronze gates. It wavered and rippled before splitting at the middle and vanishing to either side. The light around the Young Master - no, young wizard, Brome corrected himself - faded and vanished. The kid turned to Brome. “Okay, the door is open. Pick twenty or so men, and we’ll be on our-”

“Why didn’t you tell us you could do that boy?!” Gareth shouted. “We thought we’d have to take this place on without a wizard, and you had that kind of power all along?!”

The kid looked a bit flustered. “Well, I thought it was obvious. Did you really think I would try to raid one of the Ancients' sacred sites without a single drop of magic to help things along? Who would be that stupid?” He took a deep breath. “I insisted on coming along because your mercenary wizards are trained for battle, not work like this, and my master said I needed some real-world experience anyway. Now pick your men and let’s go inside.”

“Why so few men?” Brome said. “The more people we bring in the sooner we can finish this.”

“Wrong. That temple is filled to the brim with traps and curses, and I can’t protect your entire army at once. We need a small select team to enter and reach the inner sanctum. From there I can disarm every trap in the temple and let the rest of the men in. Before that, too many people will only mean a higher body count. Honestly, I don't know why your leaders decided to send an entire army in the first place.  A bunch of porters and some scouts would have been just as effective, and at a lower cost to boot."

"Wait," interrupted Gareth.  "Aren't you the one who hired us?"  

"Not exactly," the kid explained, "I don't even know who financed this mission to begin with.  I just heard about it and convinced them to hire me in place of one of your own wizards.  Now select your men and we can enter.  Oh, and according to my research this temple might be enchanted with dimensional magic, making it bigger on the inside. It may take a while to reach the center, so bring plenty of supplies.”

“Hey kid…” Brome hesitated. “What is your name again?”

“It’s Aren. Now pick your men and let’s get moving.”