Alfred stared at the board in front of him. It was his favorite game. An elven invention named Kingless. It is simple to learn and takes a lifetime to master.

  In Kingless, two players control opposite armies. One may choose to play as the elves or the dragon. Each side has a Sun Throne and Moon Throne piece and two Mage, Knight, and Castle pieces.

  What separates the elf and dragon army is the Soldiers and the Dragon. Elves have eight Soldier pieces that can add pressure to be used to defend. Whoever plays the Dragon instead gets a Dragon piece. It was the most powerful piece in the game, but if a Soldier captures the Dragon, then the Soldier becomes a Knight. This rarely happens, in Alfred's experience. Though, he has pulled it off a handful of times.

  He always played as the elves.

  This particular game was coming to a close. His opponent was an elf from across the mountains, controlling the dragon. They played their turns by messenger. Slow, but a decent distraction. So far, this elf was the only opponent able to beat him. However, it was still only one game in five.

  A knock at his door drew Alfred’s attention.

  “Enter.” The door opened and his family butler stepped into the room. He was not their only servant, but he was the one who dealt directly with the family. “What is it, Wesley?”

  “A letter for you. The next move, I believe. Also, your mother would like to speak with you. She is in the greenhouse.”

  “Thank you.” Alfred activated his stored spell. It was a construct formed from two engines; Force and Control. An efficiency drive modified the control engine. He began with a base of control and funneled it into force. The effect was a weaker force, but a greater control. Then he modified the control engine with the drive, allowing it to be more mana-efficient. For this spell, that meant he could hold onto it longer.

  “If I may, Master. Did you sleep well last night? I could prepare you herbal tea if it would help.” The butler asked out of genuine concern. He had a grandfatherly nature to him, even though he was younger than his actual father. Alfred had not slept well, he stayed up late working on his spells. The one he had just used. Alfred politely declined as he inspected the golden letter. It was indeed from his game partner.

  He opened the letter and scanned it. It had the normal platitudes and polite inquiries. Finally, he found the move. He smiled. He had won the game. His opponent had fallen into a trap he had been slowly building over six turns. He still had time left on his spell, so he used it to move the piece. Later, he would have to write the response.

  Alfred then left the privacy of his room and walked through the manor. He passed maids chatting of drama, a cook carrying a basket of some vegetable, and a passing merchant. Most of the manor was open to the public, even though Alfred loathed the idea. It had become a social hub for the surrounding villagers. Slowly, people have been moving in and adding to the village that surrounded the manor. It has been happening since before Alfred was born.

  As he entered the north wing, he ran into his father. The man had a wizened appearance to him. Thin, white hair. Slightly yellowed eyes. A nose that has been broken more than once. He stiffened as he saw Alfred.

  “Good evening, Alfred.” He always acted awkward around him. Alfred didn’t know why, exactly. It seemed to be his nature. Even his brother Victor was treated with an aura of uncomfortableness. How he managed to marry his mother, he couldn’t fathom.

  “Father.” He replied and gave him a polite nod. Then they moved past each other. That was one thing he liked about his father. He didn’t waste time with idle chat.

  Finally, he entered the humid and sweltering greenhouse. It was the height of summer, and the heat was unbearable.

  His mother was tending to pots of flowers. Comparing her to her husband was like comparing night and day. She was young, nearly forty years younger than her husband. And unlike him, she was very sociable.

  “Alfy!” She cried when she saw him. Her apron was covered in dirt, which did little to help when she wiped her hands on them. He brought his hands in close. He didn’t want to be scolded by whomever it was that washed his clothes.

  “Hell, Mother. What can I do for you?”

  “Victor is going out on a hunt today. I think you should go with him. It will do you some good, to get a bit of sun.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I cannot waste my time with frivolous activity. I must practice my spells before level four. I only have a year or two.” He told her. His mother sighed.

  “Look, at least talk to your brother. He can do a better job convincing him than I could.”

  “I will speak to Victor. But, I cannot promise I will join his hunt.” He turned to leave, before adding, “Oh, and you look beautiful today, Mother.” She gave him a lop-sided smile.

  “Get out of here before I throw some dirt at you.”

  Alfred fled. He sighed. Now he had to track down his brother. He would likely be in the south wing, loitering amongst his hunting supplies. Or he would be laughing and drinking with the commoners. They came to take advantage of the manor's hospitality.

  It was his mother who insisted on encouraging it. They even fed people who came in. To create a sense of community and friendship, or something along those lines.

  The great hall was on the way to the hunting room, so it was more efficient to try there first.

  Noise and rabble waited for him at the great hall. It was early morning, yet there was still plenty of activity. His father sat at the head of the table was was going over some paperwork with a fat merchant. A handful of men were laughing around a table in one corner. Trappers, hunters, and other outdoorsy types who were here to sell hides and whatnot. The courtyard doubled as a merchant square. Then there were the loggers. The men who worked at the local sawmill gathered here most mornings.

  It was them who, in theory, would catapult their little village into a full town. Lumber was their primary export. Though, Alfred’s father had built the estate with funds he had received for his efforts in the Brine War and their treasury was still somewhat full.

  It was he who provided Vocaunt’s military with his carefully crafted potions. It gave them greater flexibility in the water, allowing for war-winning sneak attacks against the orc's navy. Alfred had read extensively about the war, but he had never heard the orc’s perspective. One day, he would hope to ask a survivor of those bloody days.

  He spotted Victor amongst the dirty men, laughing and drinking water. One of the perks of this household was the plentiful spring water. It had a unique, crisp quality that was difficult to reproduce. He approached the table.

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  “Alfred!” His brother called at him. “I was looking for you, little bro. Hey, guys, this is my brother, Alfred.” The men raised their cups to him in greeting.

  “You just introduced me to them twice.” His brother was… very kind. But he wasn’t the most well-studied, to say the least.

  “So, you ready for the hunt? The rabbits won’t stand a chance, us teaming up.” He stood. Victor was the heroic type. Large, muscular arms and chest. A strong jaw and perfectly messy hair. His eyes were as deep and blue as the sky. Somehow, he had yet to find a suitable fiancée, despite being fifteen years his senior.

  “I am afraid I cannot join your hunt, Victor. But, I wish you luck. Mother instructed me to speak with you on the matter.” The men made disappointed noises.

  “Come on, Al. She’s worried about you. I am too. Can’t be good for you, being cooped up all day. You’ll waste away.”

  “I simply cannot waste the time. If it will please you, I will take a walk around the grounds.”

  “Hey, kid.” One of the men spoke. “You don’t have to be so polite with us. We’re just blokes.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Victor said, “Al here is too smart for simple talk, is all.” He kneeled to face him. That was one thing he liked about his brother, he always met whoever he was talking to in the eye. Never talking up or down. “Alright, Al. But the moment you get restless legs, come find me.”

  “I will, thank you. Now, I’ll get my exercise. Thank you.”

  “And get something to eat, you’re too thin.”

  Alfred left his brother and his friends and walked into the kitchen. The cook was breaking down a chicken.

  “Pardon, ma’am.”

  “I’ve told ye before. No ma’am or miss or madam or any of that shite. Just call me Laoise. Do you want some breakfast, lad?” She didn’t look at him, she focused on her work. “I can whip ye up some eggs or maybe fry up some pork. Do ye want some bacon?”

  “Something quick and light. I am going on a walk.”

  “Then you need some meat. Just give me two shakes, lad.”

  Somehow, despite his best efforts, he left the kitchen with a few cuts of thick bacon. He didn’t like meat. Or most foods, for that manner. Too messy, and too much time. But, one must eat to live.

  He toured the manor while he ate. There were many rooms to be used for guests, though most were empty this time of year. It was mostly merchants and messengers who stayed.

  Eventually, he moved to the courtyard, where a few tradesmen had simple stalls set up. Farmers also sold their goods at these stalls. A handful of adventurers and scouts loitered around. They were here to take advantage of the altar. A beautiful statue open to the air. It was a direct conduit to the divine, and one of the reasons this place had so much activity. Merchant Square, social spot, law house, and temple, all in one. Alfred would have preferred to live somewhere a bit quieter. But, he did have a certain appreciation for the utility of his home.

  While he walked, he rebuilt his spell. Copying the force and control engines was easy enough, but you still had to connect them. This could be tricky, any wrong move and the spell could backfire with horrendous results.

  To craft the construct, you must mentally picture the correct shapes, sizes, and positions. It was the shape and size that was most important. Positioning merely emphasized one effect or another. As mana flows through the construct, its potency was lost with every shape, or node, it passed through. Placing one aspect of force in front of another changed the effect in subtle ways, for example.

  What Alfred had to do was envision the correct transitional nodes between the two engines. He must maintain full concentration on the image. If it slipped, the spell would be ruined and he would have to try again. Then, he had to build the efficiency drive onto the control engine, in the exact spot. It was incredibly mentally taxing.

  Working from memory, or a template, was hundreds of times more difficult. But, practiced mages could do so easily. That was his eventual goal. For now, he had to practice with the basics.

  “Hey, Al.” Said a voice from behind him. He used his skill, Pause Construct, to halt the process of crafting the spell. This was a useful workaround to the focus problem. You could focus on the spell in short bursts. Once the spell was crafted, you could also pause it and finish it when you needed to cast it. “Nice day, ain’t it?”

  He turned to see Travis, the woodsman. He worked closely with the estate. His job was to care for the land around the manor. Clearing dead trees, keeping track of wildlife and monster sightings, repairing signs, and maintaining paths. A grounds keeper of sorts for the surrounding wilderness. Alfred smiled at him.

  “Oh, hello Travis. Are you doing well?”

  “I am, Al. I am. Nice day, easy work. Plenty of time to relax.” Travis was a large, slow man. Somehow, he would always do his job, yet nap the day away. It was a skill Alfred was jealous of.

  “Mother and Victor are making me get my exercise.”

  “Exercise is good. How’s the magic going?”

  “Well, I was just practicing crafting a construct while walking when you called out to me.”

  “Don’t work too hard, kid. Remember to relax and enjoy the day.”

  “I will keep that in mind. Pleasure speaking with you, as always.” Travis was the closest thing he had to a friend. He wasn’t as intelligent as Alfred, nor was he cut from the same social fabric. But, he had a simple, yet solid, way of life that appealed to Alfred. However, his interests were magic, not groundkeeping.

  Travis waved lazily as he walked away. That was enough exercise for today, Alfred decided.

  Rather than returning to his room, he went to his favorite reading spot. A small nook he had found years ago that was rarely visited. It had a large window from which he could see the courtyard and beyond. He settled into his comfortable spot and finished the spell.

  When he was done with that, he took the woodsman's advice. He yawned as he felt the sun on his face. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so. He closed his eyes and savored the moment. Rest wouldn’t hurt him. After all, he had only had a combined total of four hours of sleep over the last three days. Before he knew it, Alfred had fallen completely asleep.

  Alfred woke up many, many hours later. It was dark. Had he slept the entire day away? He felt a growing sense of frustration in himself. He couldn’t afford to waste time. It was inefficient. At least he felt well-rested.

  Alfred looked outside, appreciating the stars. Some movement caught his attention.

  A black carriage sat outside the manor. It was difficult to see, and Alfred would have missed it if it wasn’t for the men.

  They were being taken out in a line. Each had a sack over their face and were manacled. Someone was ushering them towards the manor. He recognized that slight limp and the awkwardly straight demeanor. It was his father. He was bringing prisoners in the manor.

  Why? Where was he keeping them?

  “Young master, there you are.” The butler had come from the dark, holding a cup of tea.

  “Wesley?”

  “I was worried when I found your room empty. Come, it is not good to be out at this hour.”

  “Wesley, do you know anything about that carriage?” He pointed at the window.

  “You must have dreamt it, Young Master. There is no carriage.” He was right. It seemed to have moved on.

  “But-”

  “Do not fall prey to your nightmares, boy. Forget the carriage. Come, let’s get you to bed before you catch your death.”

  Alfred allowed the butler to take him back to his room. But, he knew that carriage was no dream or nightmare. His father had brought in prisoners to his home.

  He needed to know why.

  Alfred

  True Name: Alfred Varnsach [Family name, Skill Alchemy]

  Soul: Mortal

  Genseed: Human [ 3 Str, 3 Dex, 3 Con, 3 Int, 3 Wil, 3 Cha; Standard Size]

  [Class] Level: 3

  Attributes (0/3):

  Strength: 5

  Dexterity: 5

  Constitution: 5

  Intelligence: 10

  Will: 5

  Charm: 5

  Feats:

  Knowledge: System Knowledge

  Knowledge: Fledgling Mage

  Act: Vile Concoction

  Act: Devotion [layered feats]

  Skills (0/4):

  System Aptitude: 1 [Source: System Knowledge]

  Alchemy: 1 [Source: Varnsach family name]

  Attribute Boost: Intelligence (+2)

  Spell Craft: 1

  Construct Capacity: 1

  Copy Construct: 1

  Pause Construct: 1

  Notable Natural Skills:

  Research: Apprentice

  Biotraits (0/0):

  Disease Resistance [Source: Vile Concoction]

  Known Magical Components:

  Engines: Force, Control, Sense

  Drives: Efficiency