Argrave picked up a ring and poured the well of magic bursting within him into the confines of the inscription wrought into the metal. Imbuing enchantments felt like he was handling red hot liquid metal, pouring it into a cast with his will alone. He attempted to speed it up… yet as one might expect, the magic danced dangerously, and Argrave quickly directed things so as to seal them off. Just as he did so, he was sealed off from the near limitless supply of power springing from the Blessing of Supersession.

“That should be five minutes, Your Majesty,” Galamon said gruffly. “Forty rings, by my count.”

“…I messed this one up,” Argrave set the ring down in a pile alongside many others. Each of the rings had Argrave’s personal symbol on them—the sun, with four snake heads at the edges of four rays.

“Then thirty-nine,” Galamon amended.

“Not good enough,” Argrave shook his head.

“You’ve managed to imbue thirty-nine B-rank enchanted items, Your Majesty. Less than a month ago, you had done zero,” Ansgar reminded him. As Leopold Dandalan’s most trusted son, Ansgar had become a sort of aide to Argrave in the past month. Though sixty-two, he was still quite able on many fronts. Above all, he was trustworthy. “Your efforts are astounding.”

Indeed, one month had passed. It had taken Argrave a month of learning to get to the point to do this. Granted, his time had become much more limited ever since taking on his duties as king, but the point remained. One month, thirty-nine rings. It could be said that it was far above normal production rates… but far below what Argrave wanted with this venture of his.

“…hmm,” Argrave grunted discontentedly. This enchanting business was his sole reprieve from the mundanity of administering things in Relize. Once the politics were well and settled, he felt useless.

“These cast B-rank warding spells, do they not?” Ansgar eyed the rings. “I would advise that you distribute them first to your newly formed royal guard. Perhaps your knight-commander can handle this matter, Your Majesty,” Leopold looked to Galamon.

Galamon had become Argrave’s knight-commander of his royal knights. Indeed, Argrave had his own royal knights, now. Though only twelve, each and all were masters. Galamon had chosen the most skilled out of people in the army. From there, Anneliese had evaluated their loyalty. That number ended in twelve. Argrave disliked bringing them everywhere—even now, they waited outside.

“I had intended to distribute them to meritorious performers in the battlefield,” Argrave said. “Giving them to my guard… might come off as selfish, no?”

“I believe it would show that being loyal and steadfast brings rewards, Your Majesty,” Ansgar disagreed.

Argrave rubbed his chin. “Alright. It’s only twelve—the rest will be distributed as I originally intended. Galamon?”

The elven vampire nodded. “I’ll see they’re handed out.”

Argrave rose to his feet, content. “Alright. Now, before we depart to evaluate the fortress… Leopold’s waiting.”

Ansgar dipped his head. “I believe my father is eager to meet his bride-to-be.”

“I can only imagine,” Argrave said with a droll nod. “Send for Elenore before we meet. I have things to discuss with her, and she should be there when I talk to Leopold.”

Index
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