"...All you know are living entities. Creatures with thoughts as meager as your own. But even you, in all your might, cannot fathom the source of all things. Return my heart to me, and all will be forgiven..."
High Lord Doryx tossed and turned in his sleep, and awoke only when the echo of the voice left his mind and he suddenly jumped up. He sat up in the darkness, looking around him, for he could have sworn the grim echo was right next to him. But there were no eyes or suspicious form to permeate the darkness. And the room was cool from the hearth in front of the double bed, and he saw nothing more, not even the faint moonlight coming from the western window could illuminate anything beyond the armchair and ottoman and decanter on the side.
With a sigh, he slumped back into the bed and let the cool sheets embrace him. The bed was empty, save for himself and the lack of his wife was only another distant topic of his mind. Doryx relaxed at the realization that it was only a dream and nothing more as he stared up at the ceiling. Well, there wasn't much use in trying to go back to sleep. For he knew tomorrow, people from the college were coming over for an important business lunch. Another sufferance of the life of high nobility, particularly one in his position. It was one thing having to bother with stuffy nobles who wanted only to get on your good side to share a good word and a little wealth; and another to try and cater to the pretentious scholars with something to prove and just aching to see what holes they could find in your research. But there was little option in the matter and at his wife's suggestion, he thought of hiring a fool for at least an afternoon's entertainment.
It would at least help lessen the expectations set upon him by bloated egos in college robes.
So when morning came and lunch had been set in the main dining hall of Reichenstone castle, the High Lord's residence in Reichsgard, the courtly capital of Darken Vei, stately but respectable and never overdone. So far, when the three associates came from the local college, all the well in the House of Acaulian, but even Doryx could only hold his breath for so long. The lunch was nearing at its end and Doryx caught the arm of his steward coming passed him. He pulled the old man down and spoke into his ear.
"Where's the fool?" he grumbled. "That...Efrain Whatsisface! He was supposed to be here an hour ago!"
"I'm afraid I don't know, my Lord," Irvine answered tentatively for fear of further raising his master's ire. "My best guess is that one Mr. Efrain is running late. Shall I send out a party to search for him on the road?"
Doryx released Irvine for after a moment and mulled it over. "Late," he said, internally shaking his head and watching the college associates talk amongst themselves for the time being. "Wait another fifteen minutes. If he's still not here, send the party. That poor bastard better find himself dead in a ditch, or else he's going to be ashes for my fireplace if he doesn't show soon. Thank you, Irvine."
Irvine bowed his head and departed toward the main hall. "Your wishes, m'Lord."
Doryx sat back in his chair and took a sip of his wine, glaring at his three visitors: Mr. Shaemus Crale, Sir Arthwyk Whitley, and last but certainly the least, Arduval Ranis. They were esteemed in each of their schools, if only because they were proficient in knowing how to kiss ass as much as they knew about the study of magics. But their meeting here had less to do with their own bloated fundings than it did for the new renovations at Airelos University, and expanding their own arboretum. Still, Doryx couldn't find himself more bored the thought.
That damned fool better be here soon, or Doryx was going to make good on his promise.
