Reinhold Learns the Truth

Reinhold sat on his throne drumming his fingers against the ornately carved wooden arm. It had been days and his fury had yet to subside, in fact it was running on a near boil. And to make matters worse for him, Genlamin had yet to find anything, or nothing he believed was worth bringing to Reinhold’s attending which made him even more angry. He could feel himself working his jaw to the point it was beginning to hurt, and threatened to damage his teeth. Not as though Yefka could not fix them if such a thing did occur, but it was the principle of the matter. Letting some scruffy human lay a hand on him in the first place let alone survive a magical onslaught that would bend the knee of even a great number of seasoned wizards, preposterous, disgusting, laughable, and infuriating. “How….how…” his drumming fingers grew faster. “How!? How in the Nine Hells does some nothing–how can some worthless creature make me look like a fool!?” he shouted, slamming his fist against the arm of the chair, standing with such force that had the chair not been fixed to the floor it would have likely gone half way across the massive room and smashed to bits.

Reinhold stormed down the stairs that lead to his throne, and stalked to the library. Genlamin by the light of several candles stood hunched over the large wood table, stacks of books and scrolls to either side of him, with two directly in front. He’d raise and lower his shoulders, mumbling to himself as he turned a page on one book then the other, before quickly taking some note in quick haphazard scratches before returning to mumbling to himself, lost in thought.

Reinhold stood at the threshold of the library for a moment expecting Genlamin to acknowledge his presence, to greet him with the respect he deserved, but nothing came. Though seeing Genlamin was still working diligently he did not shout, he approached slowly and stood behind Genlamin. Leaning to see what book he believed to have found something, but when he couldn’t make it out with Genlamin moving so much and being hunched over the table Reinhold grabbed his shoulder to push the smaller man aside. The second Reinhold’s hand touched the Genlamin’s shoulder he let out a high pitched shriek, before clapping his hands over his mouth when he realised who it was.

“Get a hold of yourself!” Reinhold snapped, pushing the screaming man, almost hard enough to be throwing. Genlamin took three stumbling steps back “My apologies Lord Reinhold… I have not slept in some time.” he said, blinking heavy bags under his eyes. “I believe I might have found something.” he said.

Reinhold gave the man an angry look, but he was listening.

Genlamin went back over to the table and used the still lit candles to light a few more, and spread out the notes he had best as he could with the limited free space not taken by books. Knowing that the chances Reinhold could read his chicken scratches was low he took a breath and prepared to tell his master the likely bad news.

“I have no way to confirm this and would have to see it in action, but… people unlocking dormant magical powers has happened. Its not what would be considered common, but it is also not uncommon. Children born in rural areas with no teachers of magic have been known to effectively ‘block’ their own magic by mistake. Not unlike a dam being built. It holds back the mana from leaving or coming in. And this usually happens from lack of use.”

Reinhold listened to the whole explanation but shook his head. “No. If it had been that, the magic would have been wild, untamed, uncontrolled. He spoke words of intent. He was doing magic as it he’d done it a million times before.” Reinhold explained.

Genlamin swallowed hard. “Theory two, he was always magic, and it was some sort of trick. He could have been wearing something to suppress it and hide it from your detection?” Genlamin asked nervously.

“Not impossible. But unlikely I would have picked up on the magic item no matter how well crafted it was.” Reinhold said. “What else do you got?” he said looking at the notes.

“Okay,...” Genlamin swallowed hard. “He’s a warlock.” he suggested seeing a spark of anger in Reinhold’s eyes he put his hands up in a placating gesture of surrender as he shrunk down. “Please Lord Reinhold hear me out.” he took a deep breath so he could say it all at once. “It makes some sort of sense in his hour of need he was granted power nobody can explain with seemingly instantaneous knowledge of how to cast the magic and knowing what to do against you.”

Reinhold reined his anger in again. “He was not speaking Infernal or Celestial.” he said curtly.

“That’s the thing we need to figure out. If we knew that, the language, maybe we could effectively combat his spells. I don’t know much about warlocks…” Genlamin flinched saying the word, “but from what I do understand they must keep their source of power happy or lose the power. Maybe he’s already lost that power?”

Reinhold worked his jaw. “You think he is alive?” he asked bitterly, stepping closer to loom over Genlamin. “What would make you think that?”

Genlamin gulped. “You my Lord. You said he was still standing when you left, and your worry of what he is…I just…I just thought you had reason to believe he was still a threa…still and issue.” he said quickly correcting the suggestion that this man could be a threat to his master.

“You…” Reinhold’s eyes flashed with anger. “You think the whelp is a threat…why would you come to that conclusion?” he asked, “Well I’m listening!” he shouted, Genlamin shrinking down more, flinching with spit from Reinhold’s shouting sprinkled his face.

“You said…” Genlamin began.

“You said.” Reinhold shot back in a mocking tone. “Why do You think he’s a threat?” Reinhold asked, putting emphasis on the ‘You’.

“Because he survived an attack from you, and injured you. You needed to call upon Yefka to treat your injuries. Lord Reinhold I do not wish to consider him a threat, but if he’s not stopped, and he can continue to gain favor with whatever thing is granting him power he might be able to bec…” before Genlamin could finish Reinhold’s large hand slapped over his mouth, cutting him off from finishing, and the palm began to get hot.
“If you finish your words…” Reinhold paused. “You will wish you didn’t live to regret it. Am I clear?” he asked and Genlamin nodded under his grasp. “Good.” Reinhold said, shoving him away. “Keep working, find the answer. I’ll have Yefka bring you something to pep you up so you can keep working.

Reinhold, left the room. When he was gone Genlamin began to sob for a moment before shoving it down knowing Yefka would say something if he was seen crying.

When Reinhold returned to his throne, he said, leaning back and drumming his finger on the arm rest again. “Warlock…” he spat.