Part 12: The Strange Times Of Peace
Chapter 11: The Strange Times Of Peace
Finally, the good-ish people of Baytown could breathe a sigh of relief. No more would they sheep wander into the hills to return as half burnt horribly mutated monstrosities. No longer would a wandering cow die while birthing beast headed monstrosities.
Magic hills were, once again, hills.
However, the lush grasses and getle bushes led to many more teenage trysts, so the benefits were debatable.
“Green Turtles are a newly hatched (50 to 100 years ago) species of Giant Turtle. Due to their young age, Green Turtles are a little smaller in size and have softer teeth and shell. Moreover, their breath is still not as strong as the breath that can prevent you from studying the more mature species up close“
“Hold fast, men! A slightly smaller giant turtle approaches!” 
Due to the multitudes of creatures infesting the waters and shores of Long Shores, it was decided that building a fleet was currently unfeasible. Fortunately, mages had all sorts of strange solutions to mundane problems.
Such as making a donkey riding knight fly.
“Not even the most horrible critter of the sky is safe from my lance now! Chaaarge!”
“TASTE STEEL AND FURY!”
“I wonder where did they get that gold… It doesn’t matter, I guess. Come, noble steed, there are more sky-borne villains to kill!”
“Billiam? Not even William or Will? I don’t think I want someone like that in our employ. If you’re a hero worthy of a legendary name, you can probably a more graceful one. Now leave me to my research”
“I’ll just tell him that the realm can’t support another hero” “That wouldn’t be a lie, either. Where does the money go… I swear, once I’m done, I’ll find the culprit and flay him”
“My lord accepts your offers, however, he can’t attend himself. Business of the realm, you understand”
“Matters of the realm… yes, of course… you have to take care… of the… realm… yes”
“Turtle soup is back on menu, boys”
“Yay...”
“I don’t like those soldiers milling about. They should stay away from our lands” “Yet somehow there’s no way to deal with them.” “Lich should have crushed him. *tpfu* For someone who’s mostly bone, he should have more spine!” “You forget yourself. That’s almost treason talk. Step lightly, Veremoud. I don’t want you to end up like those fools from Serne Vary”
“This new road is really comfortable, it let me get back home and visit my family. I haven’t seen them in months” “Unfortunately, I remember why I had gone to military” “I saw Snorri’s mum”
There were issues larger than seeing Snorri’s mother (but nobody is saying that was a small issue). Like lake Deadlin disappearing, to be replaced by a dry desert wasteland. Row upon row of quality metal boat rusted, stuck in sand banks, unable to move. Where travelers milled about dodging undead seagulls, only decaying docks stood. Whores no longer plied their trade in the wharf, leaving behind well polished boardwalk and scents of suspicious origin.
It was a disaster both for the people of Serne Vary, and collectors of ancient knick-knacks everywhere.
“Fist sky monsters, then – sea monsters! Nothing can escape the grasp of the Flying Knight!”
“Die, you blood suckers, die!” “Wait… the spell… It’s waning! M’lord, I beseech thee! Grant me flight once more, so I could deal with these pests swiftly!”
“DO YOU SEE THIS, my liege! I triumph again” “Even if my heart is troubled over Vampirium…”
“Well, then, my noble stallion companion, we will proceed on foot. I think the attentions of our king are more needed elsewhere” “Now then, we must prepare for the jungles, hills and mountains ahead” “Magic Potion Of Smell Most Foul That Killeth Bugs, Beetles And All Sorts of Other Crawlers – check” “Donkey climbing gear – check” “Maps of dubious quality – check…”
“Now listen there, lass, I won’t have puss dripping out of my arse for three months because you mages got yerself killed. Here’s some wisdom that they don’t teach you at whatever mage school you go. The best way to avoid getting shot or stabbed…”
“...is good magical shield?” “Nay! It’s avoiding getting stabbed or shot in the tha first place. Here, let me show you something…”
“AAAAAAAAARGH!”
“AYEEEEEEE”
“That’s it! GET EVERY LAST BIT OF GOLD! Search every last nook and cranny! Turn over beds, graves and tables! Melt down marriage gifts and dowries! Get money lenders to give what they got – or slay them on the spot for treason! We will find money for that witch!
“GET THE LEVIATHAN!” “And find an assassin to kill that deceiving, money grabbing witch. A cheap assassin, we can barely afford hired thugs”
“I wish they had given me flight for more than just to report that I saw a giant turtle heading for the port. Giant turtles are the only thing heading for that port anyway”. 
“Create artefact… a lot of good that does… It’s not create life, not by any measure, and that would be useful…”
“If this is a ghost ship, what do they weight their shots with?” “Guilt?”
"Some say that these tree spirits have existed in Ardania long before the men. Others believe that demonwoods are the creation of Andrevus the Dark Mage. But the one point upon which all are agreed: demonwoods, no matter their history, harbor ferocious hatred towards all other creatures."
- From "The Overall Description of Everything" by Master Alfus Bumblegate
Sir Hugue Dry Branch was caught between a bear and a hard place. A moving hard place, since demonwood roamed about, like a malevolent tumbleweed, killing and causing destruction wherever it went.
Fortunately, Sir Hugue was a very experienced knight armed with enchanted gear and a Great Mage for a patron – and great wish to add some demonic dry branches to his shield.
“A barony will be granted to a righteous servant of the lord… concerning the type of barony, it might be made up of honours and, or manors… manors, thus comprising of following types of land: “Demesne, the part directly controlled by the lord and used for the benefit of his household and dependents, whatever they might be…” “Dependent holdings carrying the obligation that the peasant household supply the lord with specified labour services or a part of its output - or gold in lieu thereof - subject to the custom attached to the holding, as well agreeing to summons to levy in case of invaders from worlds unlike our own…” “That seems specific…” “Free peasant land, without such obligation but otherwise subject to manorial jurisdiction and custom, and owing gold rent fixed at the time of the lease…” “Sound a little arcane, but it might be useful. Some of the Svarts aren’t as loyal as the others… Comes with having subjects that can think for themselves, I suppose…” “Though they could improve cataloguing on this library… Interesting it might be, this is not what I was looking for”
A rare kind of person laments when luscious grass springs up in dry wasteland and when fertile chernozem replaces lands that oozed death.
Hopefully, that person is a Svart overseer of a mana extractor that used to convert all those death vapors to mana and not a morbid youth or a necromancer.
Morbid and moping youth were a great danger in lands where necromancers could be found, and necromancers were a threat anywhere.
“Well, this is a pleasant change of pace. I actually like seeing landscape that’s not just a patchwork of unrelated lands”
“Speak for yourself. I was hunting down a lizardman. Wrote a book about a lizard serving wench who was not in control of her passions, dallied with her master, she did. Attrocious piece of writing, that, have to kill him. 
“So, you see, this is a very equal proposal. Could you please inform your master?” “Equal it may be, but it’s nonsensical in extreme” “I’m sure his majesty, King Lich VI, will be happy to agree”
"Rune magic of the Svarts is based on the deep knowledge of the essence of minerals and elements. As far as I understand it, certain combinations of elements, applied on metal or stone bases in a special way, create 'force currents' with incredibly powerful vibrations. It turns out, Svart women can feel these vibrations and manage them. That's why all Svart girls sit a special test. Those who show particular talent in managing the power of runes become apprentices of Rune Witches, and others become Rune Warriors."
(from "Chronicles of New Worlds" written by Master Vardies Teleran)
“Not much practice to be hand since the lands of death are kind of gone. It is agreed that we need to some on hand burning experience” “With all the money spent on the schools and academies, you are more than welcome to join the ranks of the military”
“Thank you. We do expect to have the finest mageweave armor. After all, we have to shelter from the elements, and the rune halls didn’t prepare us for that like military training would”
“And I don’t think you can afford to lose such kind of university trained magical talent” “What can we afford these days, with taxes wasted on burghers and mayors and other incompetents and corrupt managers, and plunder being the main influx of money…”
“Don’t think us vain, Rurik. These silk robes might look fine, but the glitter is more magical than material. Magic requires the finest of materials, much like any crafting. A Svart knows that better than anyone” “And shamans don’t know anything, foul dirty beasts”
“And finally, protection potions. I heard Long Shores are far away from being a pleasure shard”
And so they marched off to conquest, leaving behind them the University of Gatehouse, with its institutes of Runes, Higher Casting, Lower Casting, Caligraphy and Fine Smithy, Svarticulture, it’s halls that stretched for kilometers and wide, well lit auditoriums, vivariums, dissection rooms, hissing and gnashing filled armored basements, observatories that mapped the alien skies, cavernous sprocket libraries, small parks, inns…
And, of course, a magic bazaar that sold alcohol as often as it sold magic. No drinking was allowed on premises since drunk Svarts and a floating bazaar was a dangerous combination indeed.
“Hey, a forest! Haven’t seen those in a while” “How about the ones in Long Shores?” “I refuse to step through any Gate that leads me to a world filled with angry floating gas bags, carnivorous turtles of unusual size and killer mosquitoes” 
King Lich VI fell to the ground clutching his skull in his hands. Parchment and books scattered all around.
“Argh, my head!”
“The Grum-gog is happening…”
“I swear it was less painful last time. Must be all the studying. I need some rest, but not now. I am so, so close…”He started collecting the books that now lied on the floor.