The Hire 94.

The Duchy Of Phelm. The City Of Almaic...

"Hmmm" murmurs Helbe the elven thief as he looks across at a wall along one side of the ducal palace here in the city of Almaic.
The blurred and shielded elven magic user who is sitting upon a rooftop opposite the palace. Glances up at the clear, morning sky before he goes back to looking at the wall, which is on the west side of the palace.
"Are you sure?" quietly asks the young elven noble who is from the island principality of Laerel.
"Of course I'm sure" is the snappish response from Narladene the ground pixie who is sitting upon the right shoulder of the elven master assassin she's attached to.
"Damn if i can sense it" murmurs the elven masterthief, who happens to be a member of the royal family that rules Laerel.
Prince Raendril of Laerel's youngest grandson then quietly says "That sorcerer might actually be pretty good after all".
The highly talented elven magic user, who has the unique ability to cast multiple spells at once. When most spellcasters of any race, or type. Can barely cast two spells simultaneously.
Knows that there's a large number of wards in and around the palace of the duke. Though he can't sense any, even though Narladene has informed him where they are. And just as importantly, what they are.
"He must of used a lot of power to lock all those spells" muses the elven princeling who is a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"He did" says the naturally magical creature, who changes her mind with what she was about to say, and instead says "Another one coming in".
Narladene who has looked back behind them, adds "From the west again".
Helbe the elven thief who is sitting upon the roof of a merchant's rather large shop, opposite the west side of the ducal palace.
Turns his head and looks westward, and spots a rider on one of the streets further to the west. It's a messenger from the battlelines to the west of the city, who is heading to palace of the duke of Phelm.
The blurred and shielded elven magic user casually casts a spell upon the messenger. The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel. Grins as the rider turns at the next street to the north. And starts heading that way through the city of Almaic, instead of going to the ducal palace.
That rider is just one of about fifteen so far this morning. From all parts of the city, with the exception of the south of the city.
That prince Helbenthril Raendril has diverted, and sent elsewhere instead of to the palace that's the residence of duke Hargen of Phelm.
The elven master archer has sent about half that number of messengers, who have left the palace. In all directions instead of where they're intending to go.
Those within the palace, don't have much of an idea how the battle is going so far this morning.
"He's come back recently too" says Narladene who returns to what she was talking about, before she spotted the messenger from the western battlelines heading this way.
"Damn spellcasters using a shield spell" says the elven magic user with a shake of his head in disgust.
The ground pixie upon his right shoulder rolls her eyes. For that's exactly what the young elven noble is doing too. Shielding himself so other spellcasters are unable to sense him.
The tiny winged creature who is originally from the Sunreach Mountains, who attached herself to the elven princeling over a dozen years ago in the city of Leeabra, the capital of the kingdom of Druvic.
Looks away to the north through the city, and says to the elven masterthief "Mira has just taken out another of those magetubes on the north wall".
The elven magic user nods his hooded head, as it sounds like things are more or less going to plan so far this morning with the attack upon the city of Almaic, the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril is just about to say something to Narladene when he suddenly thinks of something.
"Mira" murmurs the elven master assassin who has been acting as the envoy to the robber barons of the unruled lands of the Colevar Mountains for the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
"What about him?" asks the ground pixie, who like all of her kind, is immune to magic.
"You think a mageglobe of his could get through those wards and into the palace?" asks the elven masterthief who stands up "Probably" says Narladene who then adds "If he creates the correct one".
The blurred and shielded elven magic user nods his hooded head then quietly says "Good enough" followed by "Besides i just want to get a reaction from this sir Yarrim, to see what he does".
The naturally magical creature nods her head to that, then she grabs a hold of the cloak on the right shoulder of the elven masterthief who she senses is about to cast.
Helbe the elven thief has one last look at the ducal palace, towards the pair of airships within the western side of the palace grounds.
Then he shifts away, heading north through the city that's the provincial capital here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
The elven magic user shifts four times, and stops upon a roof. And looks down into a fairly large square here in the north of Almaic.
And watches a company of city guards, leave their watch tower. And hurry away to the east of the city.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel gets the feeling most of those guardsmen have yet to see any actual battle time.
Figures the attack by the army led by general Halvane is about to commence upon the east side of Almaic.
The elven princeling shifts a couple hundred feet up into the air, and looks eastwards. And indeed, further to the north and east of the city, upon the river Mareb.
He sees all the rafts and barges that general Halvane's army have with them. Are in the water, or are being placed into the water.
"Well, there's going to be a little bit of smoke on the water over there" murmurs the elven master archer, who is still fairly young for an elf, especially a royal one, as he's still under two hundred and twenty years of age. A veritable youth for someone who could potentially live to be fifteen hundred years old.
The young elven noble who is a member of the personal council of lord Farque. Turns as he floats in midair, and looks away to the west.
And in the distance, he sees the war machines, the trebuchets in this instance. Under the command of the young engineer Tovis in the army led by field commander Talbot.
Rolling forward, to get closer to the battlelines of the defenders, who are between them and the west side of the city.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril watches the battle on that side of the city for a few moments, before he shifts away, heading northwards over the city of Almaic.
The blurred and shielded elven magic user prefers shifting than teleporting. For the simple reason it's far quicker to cast compared to a teleportation spell. True, you don't go nearly as far as you would if you teleported.
But since shifting is instantaneous, and hardly anyone knows of the spell. Which he thought of by himself. Though he has a feeling it's already a known spell. It makes up for lack of distance compared to a teleport spell.
The young elven noble can shift multiple times to somewhere far quicker than any other spellcaster of comparable power, or any level of power for that matter, who would teleport to the same place.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril goes by the highest point in the city of Almaic, old bell tower in the grounds of the church of Glaine as he continues northwards above the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
The elven masterthief eventually stops on a rooftop on one of the last buildings in the north of the city, just behind the north wall of Almaic, which is across a square from him.
The elven envoy who is a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, looks along the wall that's warded on the otherside to protect it from those to the north of the city, attacking it.
The highly talented elven spellcaster spots the damage wrought by Mira Reinholt the mage, who has been able to get around the fairly strong wards upon the north wall of the city. By using mageglobes that he has created.
"Hmmm they've increased the wards and sent them downwards since i last checked on them" murmurs Helbe the elven thief "Because of Mira i gather?" asks the blurred and shielded elven magic user.
"He sent the first mageglobe he created underground" explains Narladene, who continues with "The next ones he's just sent up high over the city, and had them come back and attack the top of the wall from this side".
What i wouldn't do to be able to create things like those mageglobes, the elven masterthief thinks to himself. Which can only be created by mages, the most powerful, and the least abundant of human spellcasters.
Mageglobes which mages usually only ever create for lethal combat against other mages. One of the main reason for which, is so that other spellcasters keep well away from the powerful practitioners of magic, who are hell bent on trying to kill one another.
Not so the mage Reinholt. Who has used them all his magical life. Whenever, and wherever he likes. Even when he had all of his powers. When he was the most powerful mage of his generation in the Southlands. Making him one of the most powerful spellcasters too.
He'd create mageglobes to do whatever he wanted. Something severely frowned upon by other mages.
Who are not just the most powerful of all the human spellcasters. But also the most egotistical, and arrogant of not just human spellcasters. But all practitioners of magic.
You might have the kindest, and most caring of individuals in a particular mage. But once they start casting their magic, even their streak of arrogance would show through.
Not so Mira Reinholt, who was always arrogant and egotistical, no matter what. Though since losing the vast majority of his powers over a decade ago. The Vexilian mage has tempered his arrogance some what.
Though Helbe the elven thief knows he hasn't completely. And it's with that, the elven magic user is hoping the once powerful mage can help with something.
As the young elven noble knows a challenge appeals to the ego of the mage, who still to this day, was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil. Part of the ruling body that runs the largest, and most populace city-state in all the Southlands.
Especially a magical challenge, which the elven princeling faces with the shielded and locked wards upon the ducal palace here in the city of Almaic.
The elven master archer spots the nearest magetube upon the top of the north wall of the city.
The elven practitioner of magic sees that it's being rolled to the right along the top of the wall by it's crew. To a better vantage point to fire upon those who are attacking Almaic from the north.
With a series of small, rather simple spells. Helbe the elven thief has one of the crew members trip up. While another smacks into one of the crenellations along the top of the wall, then falls flat on his face.
The thousand pound magetube on it's wheeled, wooden cradle. Starts rolling out of control. And as two of the crew members pushing it, try to keep it under control.
Another further along the barrel like tube, who is guiding it. Stumbles and trips. And is lucky not to get run over by the heavy, magical weapon.
Which is well and truly out of control now. And near the back edge of the top of the wall.
With the magetube being so heavy, and about eight feet long, the inevitable happens.
The magetube rolls off the back edge of the top of the wall. And falls to the square below. Narrowly missing those below. Before it smashes into the ground. Sending cobblestones and the ground beneath it flying.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel grins as he knows that particular magical weapon the enemy has been using, is pretty much useless now.
Unless they're able to hoist it back to the top of the north wall of the cuty. Or a powerful spellcaster amongst them all, comes along and levitates it back up to where it was previously.
With Narladene hanging on tight to his right shoulder again, prince Helbenthril Raendril shifts again. Going upwards first, to clear the north wall of Almaic and it's wards. Then out and away from the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Floating nearly five hundred feet above the ground to the north of the city. Where below him, the battlelines of duke Hargen's army to this side of the city. Battlelines that have been infiltrated by the forward elements of some of the armies that have come down from the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains. Into the duchy of Phelm, to wage war upon it, and it's duke.
The elven masterthief looks northwards, to the northeast really. To the army that still has the bulk of it's forces there.
The blurred and shielded elven magic user as he floats there in the morning sky. Spots the individual he's looking for. The elven master assassin shifts again.
Mira Reinholt the mage who has just had a brief conversion with the young field commander Tamric Drubine.
Then stepped away from the nobleborn teenager and others in the senior staff of the young field commander.
Suddenly jumps in surprise as his fellow spellcaster, and fellow member of the personal council of lord Farque. Helbe the elven thief appears standing beside him.
The once powerful mage sourly smiles as the elven princeling quietly says to him with a grin upon his youthful looking face "That never gets tired".
"I bet" sourly says Mira Reinholt the mage, who then rolls his eyes when the young elven noble tells him "There's something i want you to do".
The mage who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil. Listens in silence as the elven masterthief explains to him what he wants done.
The mage Reinholt after slightly frowning, nods in understanding, then he quietly asks his fellow council member "What spells?".
The elven magic user names a number of spells, a dozen infact. Which gets the reaction of raised eyebrows from the mage who is also highly skilled swordmaster.
"That's a lot of wards" murmurs the Vexilian mage in exile. The elven princeling nods his hooded head in agreement. Then tells the once powerful mage the combination some of those spells are in.
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel who has told his fellow spellcaster they're around the ducal palace within the city of Almaic.
Is just about to tell him where specifically each ward is at the palace.
When the mage Reinholt interrupts him by saying "I don't need to know where they are" followed by "Just what they are".
The once powerful mage then adds "What you've already told me is fine enough" As he takes a hold of one the spell gems in a hidden pocket in his black, summer cloak. And drains some of the power it holds.
"It doesn't have to fly off as fast as they usually do" says Helbe the elven thief, who continues with "I want to get back there, and see what happens when it goes in".
Mira Reinholt nods his hooded head as he holds out his right hand and creates a mageglobe in it.
It takes a few moments, but eventually a plum sized, almost multi coloured mageglobe sits in the right palm of the the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
The exiled Vexilian mage flings the living piece of magic into the air. It starts to slowly rise straight up into the sky, then starts heading to the west.
"You better get going" says Mira Reinholt. The young elven noble who was beside him has already gone.
Helbe the elven thief who is blurred again, has shifted up into the morning sky above the battlelines.
He looks around, and upon his right shoulder, Narladene the ground pixie points to the mageglobe created by the mage Reinholt. Which is gaining speed as it rises upwards, and to the west.
The elven magic user shifts again, heading back into the city, and to the ducal palace, or to exact, right next to it, where he was observing it previously.
There he'll wait for the arrival of the mageglobe that was just created by Mira Reinholt to go into the palace of the duke, without being noticed . . . . . .