05.12.2025

The magic suppressant was annoying, if anything. Unpleasant, yes, and an utter insult added to an injury. But most of all, it was annoying, in the kind of way that something is annoying when it prevents one from engaging in their intended activity.

Which was, after all, exactly what they were designed for. It was their exact intended purpose. To prevent one from engaging in their intended activity. Provided, of course, that activity was of a magical purpose. It would be utmost weird, if the activity they had to prevent was, say, climbing the stairs. Or walking. Though there probably was something in the arsenal from the Enchanters that would serve some oddly specific purpose, if for no other reason then just to make things that would be a nuisance to somebody.

Kazra pulled at the handcuff with as much disdain as he could manage and, in return, received a discharge of magic that was there as a reminder rather than a threat, not to fumble with it. A miniscule zap, on par with the static discharge that came from touching a metal item with bare hands in winter. He growled a curse under his breath, then some more, for a good measure, as he continued pacing around the room. Now, of course the purpose of his actions was not to get these things off. If he tried (and somehow even succeeded at) that, he reckoned he would be apprehended and disposed of faster than the cuffs would hit the floor, what with the obvious levels of paranoia surrounding the whole mess. Whoever had been the ones planning it would probably catch the hands of the First Circle, or at least their superiors, soon, if they had not already.

(They probably had.)

No, this was purely because there happened to be absolutely nothing else here to direct the upset and anger, and agitation, and fear at.

Now, Kazra was pretty darn sure that in his life, there had been instances of somebody mentioning what this whole “mind evaluation” thing actually meant, rather than just bare-bone guidelines, but somehow, he guessed he must have not been paying attention at that time. Of course, you heard the other wizards speak of it, time and again, but those were merely glimpses of conversations aimed at whoever said wizards happened to be in a conversation with. And of course, he had caught a glimpse or two, of the wizard in question himself – an unnerving, imposing creature indeed. One that commanded both respect and fear at the same time, but in a much different way than your Grandmaster would, for example. Partially due to the fact that, wherever this… Mindcrawler… appeared, other wizards would go out of their way just to be as far from him as it was physically possible.

And then there were the eyes. Always lit with magic, making one’s metaphorical hackles rise up whenever he appeared in proximity. Magic, active magic, meant there was danger.

“You need to calm down,” a voice spoke, and the Warrior flinched and cursed, this time out loud.

“Sure! Calm down! Great idea! I'm seconds from being... I don't know what! And you're telling me to calm down! I set my foot through the damn portal, only to be detained and told, heyyy, we'll need to have you evaluated! You link to your Wizard now, you die, capiche?! An amazing welcome back, must say that!”

“It is the standard procedure after this kind of mission,” the voice answered, and Kazra still chose to avoid directly engaging with the other presence as much as he could, just so he could stew a little bit longer.

“Would have appreciated if that were included in the initial instructions!” He spat out, and cared little of how bitter and sharp it ended up sounding. “Bit late for warnings, don’t you think?”

“I am certain that this was included,” the other wizard answered, pretending he either had not heard or did not mind the tone he was being talked to in. “At the very least, the Grandmaster mentioned it when you arrived. He always does; just in case they failed to instruct the new Warriors before they are deployed. It is very rare, but it has happened before.”

“The hell you know about—” Kazra finally turned and immediately silenced in half sentence, stood straight and saluted. “Fieldgeneral!”

Fieldgeneral Redkevik beheld him for a moment.

“There is no need for that here,” he finally spoke. “Everyone is equal in this place.”

Involuntary, Kazra’s sight travelled down to the other’s hands that Redkevik respectfully and calmly kept at his sides, and he caught a glimpse of the same kind of device they had popped onto him as soon as he had stepped through that damned portal.

“Equally accused, that's for sure,” he snarled at nobody in particular.

“Like I said, it is a standard procedure for missions like this.”

“Ones that go awful sideways?”

The Fieldgeneral tilted his head slightly, before smiling in calm, almost sad way.

“Indeed. Without it, it would be easy for Chaos to slip inside Mezchinhar.”

“They believe somebody betrayed us?! Looked like completely normal incompetence of a wet-nosed higher-up who wouldn’t know a battle if he were right in the middle of one! If I were… infected… I'd rather throw myself into a star!”

“That will not persuade them not to do it.”

Whether that was a serious statement, or a dry joke, Kazra had no mental strength left to decipher, nor did he particularly care about it. He raked his fingers through his hair once, then again, then a third time, for a good measure, then began pacing again, at the same time wishing, deeply so, there had been at least a chair, or some kind of a box here, just for the sole purpose so he could kick it once. Maybe twice.

“You are afraid.”

Now that was a statement. Or rather, an observation. And there was no condescension, or disdain, in the Fieldgeneral’s voice, unlike one could have expected in such cases.

“Nervous,” Kazra was not about to show a weakness, even though Redkevik had guessed correctly. “Not used to just… waiting for strange stuff to happen, ‘s all.”

“I would say, we do that constantly.”

“That’s different! When you’re out there,” Kazra gestured into the general direction of the “outside” he was referring to, “you know you’re about to run into Chaos Wizards, or whatever it is this time! You know what to expect! You know what you are expected to do! But this? This is uncharted territory! Can’t blame me for being a bit worried!”

“I am not,” Redkevik answered, in the same low, soft voice as always.

“I know,” Kazra stopped and slouched against the wall, before heaving a sigh. “I am sorry. Just… guess I should let some steam off before I’m shoved into this room the next time. Just so it doesn’t chew my insides up for good. Just bad timing. Sorry. I… I’m not at my best right now. Terrible excuse, I know, but…”

“It is understandable. You are still very new to this.”

At another time, in a different situation, maybe Kazra would argue about that. Perhaps get flustered about such observation. Or at least tell the other wizard to mind his own damn business. Right here, right now, he did not feel like it, however. It felt simply like an observation rather than a personal slight, and he found it difficult to hold even a symbolic grudge against Redkevik.

Kazra continued pacing, only now, instead of the entire room being his roaming grounds, he intentionally confined himself to only a half of it, putting more than enough space between him and Redkevik, just so he would not walk right into the Fieldgeneral by pure accident – which he knew would mean that the Mindcrawer could make early retirement today.

For a while, there was calm. The kind of calm that rules places where people – wizards or otherwise – are gathered as they expect their imminent doom. The kind of calm that comes as the next step of being stressed. Eventually, though, Kazra interrupted it, his personal reasoning being that anything was better than just stupidly waiting for a door to open:

“Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” Redkevik seemed to be caught off-guard, the way he blinked as though prior to the question he had been simply letting his mind wander while the other warrior was busy trying to put a dent into the floor. He looked calm, but not stressed-calm. Just regular calm, and collected, like he always was.

“They say, the whole thing… evaluation… whatever. They say, it hurts. Physically. And that there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Redkevik tilted his head.

“You just went through what most would call, a hell,” the Fieldgeneral sounded amused, “but it's the Mindcrawler, you are afraid of?”

“Been in several things I'd call hell, personally,” Kazra shrugged. “Hell's pretty familiar by now. This ain't it. Wasn't in the brochure, you know.”

Redkevik kept silent for a moment and studied his face carefully. Kazra had noticed, he did that often and with everyone.

“Yes, it does,” Redkevik finally answered the original question. “Unlike anything you've ever felt, and with no way of avoiding it.”

“Damn.”

“Do not fight it.”

Kazra found himself incapable of forcing back an incredulous chuckle.

“Forgive my speaking my thoughts freely, Fieldgeneral,” he tried to tone the sarcasm down to a minimum, “but that's a bit of rubbish advice to give somebody right after you told them, the thing they're being forced into will be very much agony.”

“The more you struggle and fight Yettadeimos, the worse it will be,” if Redkevik had noticed the sarcasm, he did not show any sign of it when he answered. “Go with the flow, let him do his job. It will be over sooner that way. And it won’t do half as much damage.”

“Let him do his job,” Kazra wanted so, so much, to mock these words, but he yet remembered whom he was talking to. “Easier said than done!”

“That is true. However, the more you struggle against him, the worse it’ll be, for yourself. And if you try to obscure anything, he will take it from you by force.”

“So,” Kazra folded his arms, “you mean, it’s everything, not just things concerning that sh- I mean mission?”

“Yes,” Redkevik answered, completely unphased by that fact, and Kazra caught himself wondering how often he had already had this happen to him, “that is also true, and it is necessary. But you are still young, so it will be over soon. Provided you do not fight him.”

“Well,” the Warrior dragged out, not knowing whether he was to feel amused or concerned, “guess that serves me right for not paying attention in crucial moments. The amount of new information you can learn in five minutes. Astounding. Almost as—“

He was interrupted by the door in the opposite wall sliding open.

Fieldgeneral Redkevik nodded towards it, and Kazra could have sworn he saw a tiny encouraging smile on his lips. Regardless of whether or not it had actually been there, or it was merely a shadow play, he chose to believe in the former, for that gave him a fuzzy, warm feeling inside. Weird and unaccustomed, and completely out of place in this situation, but not unpleasant, either.

He took a deep breath and stepped towards the darkness beyond the door.

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