A commission for  squeakpowerhorse! This time, his mage Marvin mingles with the Palamani! Muscle and magic ensues!

Marvin ©  squeakpowerhorse
Story and Palamani © c'est moi

Also, as a courtesy to the commissioner, I'll be posting the story in full down below here. Sorry for the text scroll!

---

The scouts had all but confirmed it. Candaren was being invaded. After the disappearance of the King’s champion, brave Sir Roland, the Court had been ill at ease. The farmers came back with more and more reports of the invaders; giant, hulking, musclebound men and women of every species imaginable, marching on the Kingdom. All across Candaren, people began to prepare. The nobles, resplendent in shimmering armor, called together their knights and vassals. The peasantry scrounged together whatever defenses they could, and formed militias as one last defense.

There was, however, one isolated part of Candaren that had not been called on to defend their land; the mage’s tower. On a small island just off the Western coast of Candaren, the Mage’s Tower, clad in granite and white marble, rose up, like a lone lily in a desolate field. For centuries, people with a natural talent for magic had been drawn to the tower, where they could practice their art away from the suspicious eyes of their Candar brethren. Despite the mages’ devastating power, no herald had come to warn them of the invasion, no royal army to call them to arms. Candaren was determined to stand alone; they didn’t trust magic to aid them in the defense of their land.

Thankfully for the mages, their Arch Mage, the leader of the tower, was well aware of the danger approaching. He was a mysterious figure; and the Candars were suspicious of him the most of all, if the rumors of his size were true. In a time when anyone exceptionally muscular could be counted amongst the invaders, Arch Mage Marvin looked like he could be a general amongst the fabled Palamani’s ranks. He towered over most men, with broad shoulders, thick arms and legs roped with heavy muscle, and a wide chest. A horse descended from strong, dependable stock, his honey-colored fur was coarse and thick, covering every bulge and swell of muscle on his frame. His white and black mane was trimmed neatly, saved for a single, long braid draped over his shoulder. A powerful mage, the Candars could count themselves lucky; Dominion invasion or no, Marvin only had one loyalty, and that was to his students.

“In conclusion,” Marvin looked down at the novice mages circled around him, sitting cross-legged and committing his lessons to notes on scraps of parchment. “Mastery of the elements is one of the basic cornerstones of an accomplished mage. I know that there are those of you that have your doubts; I’m sure many of you have already picked one of the elements alone to train in. But you have to keep an open mind. When I began, I believed that earth would be my preferred element; it’s solid, strong, and can pack quite a punch. Seemed fitting for me, for obvious reasons.” The Arch Mage smirked, and flexed his arm, letting his bicep expand and swell. “But it took me learning and practicing all four elements for me to find that air responded to me in a way that earth simply didn’t. And as you can see…” he took a deep breath, tensed his strong arms, and summoned up the air in the room to him. His students gripped their papers to keep them from being blown away in the sudden wind, and when the Arch Mage had called up enough, the winds buffeting and whipping about in his hands, he let them loose, like an archer loosing his bow. The bolt of wind hurtled across the room, shattering a granite statue in the back of the room. His students immediately applauded the show of force.

Grinning, Marvin took a quick bow. “Now, your next task is to meditate on the elements. And please, for our novices, start small. A cup of water, a small stone, a candle’s flame, and the very air around you is all you need to pracitce. Let’s not have a repeat of last year when one half of the novice’s dorm was flooded and the other half was set on fire because two of you were feeling ambitious.” Dismissing his students, Marvin gathered his things, and moved to his study, nestled in the highest perches of the tower.

As he began to settle in, amongst towers of books and a desk covered in scrolls and papers, the large horse noticed a carrier pigeon sitting on his windowsill, a small scroll tied to its back. Arching a brow, Marvin took the bird in his hands, and unfurled the scroll.

“To Arch Mage Marvin-

There is no need to be coy. The King’s army has been defeated, and the enemy is spilling across our borders. There have been defections, as these Palamani brutes are making overtures of mercy; all lies, of course. The savage giants have a new leader who claims to be from Candaren, the son of a Duke, no less. The very audacity of such a claim is beyond me. His Majesty has decided to call upon your Mages to defend your home, for Crown and Country. We expect you to comply immediately.

Sincerely,
Chancellor Baudouin”

Marvin leaned back in his seat as he let the message sink in. Admittedly, he knew as little about the Palamani as anyone in the Western lands did. The past few years had been lean for the Tower; Marvin was one of only a handful of experienced mages left to lead the novices, and all of them were still callow youths; most of them would be slaughtered on the battlefield if he led them to fight now.

Slowly, he picked up his quill, and began to write out his reply. He would not let his novices march off to war, but he and half a dozen mages would be at the King’s service. He felt like he was signing his own death warrant; seven mages were a force to be reckoned with, there was not doubt, but agaisnt the entire force of the Palamani legions? He knew which side he would put his money on, that much was certain.

Before he could send the Carrier Pigeon back with his reply, a falcon screeched, landing on his windowsill. A handsome beast, it, too, had a scroll tied to it; this one was stamped with a seal he had only heard of: three arms gripping a sword, framed by a laurel wreath. The Palamani Dominion had a message for him.

Marvin stared at the bird of prey for a moment before he took the scroll in his hand, and gingerly broke the seal.

“To the leader of the Mage’s Tower:

Greetings. I don’t know if Arch Mage Darius still lives, but to him or his successor, I write to you under the terms of parlay. I was born in Candaren, as was our God; providence compels this conquest of ours, but my quarrel is not with the Mage’s Tower. I know you and your kind have never received the warmest of welcomes from the Candars, so perhaps the Dominion will prove more hospitable. We value strength and power, and if the mages are as I remember them, you are honorable enough to warrant the respect of my men. An agent of mine has sent this falcon, and will present the terms of parlay to you; meet my agent on the coast of the mainland, under a signal fire they will light for you.

May you know Strength,
Imperator Renard, Strongest of the Dominion”

Marvin frowned deeply at the scroll. Now what was he supposed to do? Leaning back in his chair, the horse huffed, setting his quill down. Baodouin could wait until tomorrow.

That night, Marvin set out alone. Shoving off into the choppy waters surrounding the tower’s island in a small rowboat, his strong arms worked the oars, quickly crossing the strait that lay between him and the mainland. As he neared the coast, he spotted a signal fire starting to burn in the distance. Summoning a fireball in the palm of his hand to light the way, the mage steeled himself before approaching.

He could make out a faint outline of someone big and broad-shouldered as he walked towards the fire, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t make out any defining features beyond that bulky frame.

“Who sent you? Are you one of the mages from the tower?” the shadowy figure growled.

“I’m Archmage Marvin. There was a message sent to me, by your Imperator, Renard?”

The figure grunted. “Glad to see there’s one soul in Candaren with a strong back. I represent the Imperator; he wishes for peace between the Dominion and the Mages of your tower.”

“We had no quarrel with the Dominion. Then you invaded our home.” Marvin crossed his arms, arching a brow.

His strange companion let out a raspy laugh. “Do you see siege engines surrounding your tower? Or the full might of the legions approaching your shore? The Dominion isn’t invading you and your mages. What sort of home is Candaren to you and your mages, where they fear your power and strength?”

“So we should just betray our friends and families, then? Because your Imperator will, what, press-gang us into his legions so we can ‘show off our strength’?” Marvin countered.

Another growl. “Don’t dishonor the Imperator. It is a new day for the world, and we want you and your mages to be a part of it. Here are our terms: if you will relocate your tower to Dominion lands, we will grant every member of the tower citizenship. For two years, you will not be counted for taxes, and for five years, you and yours will be exempt from legion service. In return, you will swear loyalty to the Dominion and its Imperators, and you will not aid Candaren. If you accept, the Legion will escort you and your mages out of Candaren, and into Dominion lands.”

Marvin frowned. “What happens after five years, then?”

“You will be treated as any other Palamani citizen. But consider this, Arch Mage; Candaren has already lost. Your weakling army has failed, and already towns are being incorporated into the Dominion. You can come into the Dominion as an honored guest of the Imperator, or as subjugated vassals. The choice is yours.”

The horse was silent. He didn’t know what to say.

“Take the night to consider, Arch Mage. But I will be leaving tomorrow at high noon to rejoin the Legions. If you and your mages are not with me, I will know which side you’ve chosen.” The stranger said nothing more, and when Marvin looked up again, he was gone.
As the next day came, the Imperator’s man watched the Mage’s tower the second the sun rose. He waited until noon, and then he shook his head. The mages were weaker than he thought. Just as he was about to turn away and head back to Dominion lines, he spotted a collection of boats approaching the shore.

“Are you entirely sure about this, Marvin?” asked Geralt, one of the senior mages of the tower. “How can we trust the Dominion to keep its word?” He rubbed at his shoulder out of nervousness; a fox from a noble family, he was used to political intrigue.

The Arch Mage sighed. “Candaren demanded we send the novices to fight. The Dominion only asks we not send the novices to fight at all. If they betray us, then at least we didn’t knowingly hand over the lives of our students.”

The Mages, little more than a hundred, disembarked, and made their way to meet the Palamani agent. The broad-shouldered figure snorted as they approached. “Your Mages look weak, Arch Mage. How could you let them get so skinny?”

“I train their minds and their magical prowess. Though I don’t think it’s very wise to mock a group of people that can set you on fire with a snap of their fingers.” The horse smirked, looking down at the agent. It was only in the light of day that he realized that he was noticeably taller than the shadowy figure, and just as broad-shouldered.

“That will change once they have become Dominion citizens,” the figure said, somehow delivering an audible smirk from beneath the hood that obscured his face. “Roland, God of the Dominion, will show you how to prepare these whelps for greatness.”

“I wait with baited breath,” Marvin muttered acidly.

The agent gestured towards the road, and led the mages on their way. The journey was surprisingly uneventful; the Palamani had already taken control of the King’s Road, and order, efficiently and ruthlessly enforced by soldiers stronger than ten Candar men, was restored. Most villages were unharmed, and the Candars were allowed to go about their lives much as they had; though Marvin noticed that, the thicker into Palamani territory they got, the larger the Candars seemed to be getting.

The other mages were still uneasy, but an encouraging smile from their Arch Mage kept them going. What Marvin actually thought of these new neighbors was beside the point; he needed to get them away from the war, first.

The day they passed into the Dominion proper, there was a noticeable change. It had not been that long ago that the land they now crossed was part of the Kingdom of Illias, but in a few short years, the Palamani had made it their own; all around were whitewashed stone buildings, with stout, wide entrances and reinforced to stand the sheer weight and strength of its inhabitants, decorated with mosaics and red-tile roofs. It was the first time Marvin felt small, as he watched a group of soldiers walk by, each of them wider, thicker, and taller than him. The rumors about the Palamani were true, after all: everyone in the Dominion was a titan of strength.

“What magic are they using?” Marvin heard another mage ask as they looked about the town; a lamb named Victoria, she was the Mage’s pre-eminent healer. “The body just doesn’t grow this large on its own. Is it a charm, some type of enchantment?” she asked, half afraid and half in awe.

Marvin had no time to answer, as he was stopped by their hooded guide. “Your journey ends here, Archmage.”

The horse felt something ominous in the guide’s words, and immediately tensed his beefy arms; at least he was still bigger than the guide. “Why do you say that?”

“Because the land you and your mages have been granted is here.” The guide pointed a white finger just past the outskirts of the town they had entered. “By order of Imperator Renard and Imperatrix Claudia, you have been granted a parcel of land on the ruins of Vralstag Castle, once the home of a weak Illisian lord. His stronghold was destroyed in a siege, but His Mightiness wishes you to repurpose the ruins into your new tower.”

Marvin snorted, crossing his arms as he glared down at the guide. “So we’re just a construction crew for this Imperator’s project?”

“His Mightiness has gifted you this land; do with it as you will.”

The horse rolled his eyes. “Look at my students; they’re not fit to work on a construction site! They’re scholars, not masons.”

“The Dominion makes her own strong, Archmage. If they have the will, strength will give them the way.”

Marvin was about to reply, but the guide had simply vanished. After looking about the bustling Palamani town, he threw up his arms in defeat, and looked back at his mages. “Come on, then. We need to look after our new home.”
Vralstag had once been a great castle, and the lords that had ruled from it were a proud noble dynasty, tracing their lineage back to Remeran days, but that didn’t matter to the Palamani. The lords of the castle were now on the other side of the Dominion, slowly growing muscle to once again regain their status, and their home was now a collection of collapsed towers and tumble-down walls. It had been abandoned for only a scant few years, but the grass of the bailey was already wild and overgrown, and vines had begun to snake their way across the collapsed buildings.

“We’re supposed to live here?” Geralt demanded, angrily turning to Marvin. “You dragged us across the continent, compelled us to abandon our homeland, for this?”

The Archmage sighed. “Geralt, what were we supposed to do? Send the novices off to war?”

“Well, what are we supposed to do now?” Victoria asked. “We can’t live among these ruins, and we don’t even have the simplest tools to make this place liveable.”

Marvin looked around; the stone was strong, and of a high quality. It could have withstood the Legions for years. The horse knickered, and stretched his thick arms, rolling his broad shoulders. “We have all the tools we need,” he said with a tight smirk. “Are we mages or not?” He turned his focus to one of the castle’s walls, where stones the size of his beefy chest were scattered around. Holding out his hand, he willed the stone to move and slowly, it lifted in the air, and floated to Marvin’s side. Summoning up his strength, the great mage dropped down and slammed his fist down on the ground. The stone followed suit, and crashed into the ground. Putting one hoof on the stone, Sparks danced on his fingers as Marvin zapped the side of the stone, as the Mage’s symbol was seared into it; a raised hand wreathed in flame.

“There.” His smile grew a little bigger. “Our cornerstone is laid.”

The other mages looked at each other, and they each looked back at the crowd of novices, huddling close together and looking around at the ruins with a mix of apprehension and self-doubt. Of the older mages, they looked around with disproval, some shaking their heads, but two decided it was time to make the best of it. Geralt and Victoria stepped forward, and bowed their heads to the Archmage. “Let’s get to work, then.”

The next few days were hard work, but fulfilling. With their commands of the elements, the mages were able to pick apart Vralstag Castle’s ruins and begin the foundation of a new tower. This one would be even bigger, and Marvin was keen to take his cues from the Palamani town. If they were supposed to be part of the Dominion, they might as well look the part. Thick stone walls were augmented by arches and ornate columns, and some of the more artistic mages began to experiment with Palamani-style mosaics. Soon, news came that the invasion was going in the Dominion’s favor, and after that, there was only one thing that kept the mages from feeling like they had made the right choice; their neighbors.

The soldiers and guards that kept order in the town were, for once, not the problem. The mages had learned to be wary of law enforcement, but the over-muscled Legionnaires treated the mages the same as anyone else. But the townpeople themselves regarded the mages as if they were common thieves. Only Marvin could go into town without being harassed, and even then, he was pretty sure a single sack of flour didn’t double in price three times in one week. The nastiest looks he got, however, were at the fountains. Whenever he travelled to get fresh water for the tower, the Palamani looked at him as if he were a thief.

Working on the tower, and slowly making it rise above the ruins of Vralstag, was having a profound effect on his mages. Maybe, perhaps, too profound an effect. Everyone, from wizened old masters to the most callow apprentice, seemed to be hardier and stouter, with thicker arms and wider chests. Even Geralt, who was less a fox and more a skeleton covered in fur, had been filling out. The Archmage, who was doing the heaviest of the heavy work as it was, had ballooned in size. He had to forgo his mage’s robes, and often went around in nothing more than a sleeveless tunic; it’s all that would fit him any more, as his biceps had swollen up bigger than his skull, and his mountainous shoulders had blossomed, slowly swallowing up his neck, which was already being hidden by his cliff-like pecs jutting out almost past his muzzle. His legs were like the columns of their new tower; wide and solid as stone, rippling thighs holding the rest of him up.

Marvin and the other senior mages were no fools; they knew something beyond healthy exercise and hard work was effecting them. They kept quiet, lest the novices grow afraid again. But if they noticed anything, they weren’t showing it. The mages had never seen their novices exhibit such energy and strength, such dedication to their work.

One night, after the mages had risen their tower just over the last remaining castle wall, Marvin, Geralt, and Victoria met in secret to discuss their growth situation.

Geralt, like Marvin, had forgone his robes, and had even shirts altogether; although still painfully thin when compared to the Palamani, the fox had enough lean, diamond-cut muscle to shame the finest Candaren knights. Only Victoria, who was very obviously wider across the shoulder and thicker in the arm, kept struggling to fit in her robes.

Marvin huffed, stretching his back and letting his heaving flanks flare out like massive wings before leaning against a wall and crossing hiis overly wrought arms. “So… what should we do? Do we have any idea what’s causing… this?” The Archmage asked, flexing his arm and watching his bicep engorge itself and press up against his forearm.

Geralt tapped his chin. “It’s not an enchantment of the castle’s. I took the enchanters and covered every inch of this place to make sure we could set up our protective wards without clashing with any lingering spells that a court mage might have placed.”

“It’s not a curse, either. At least, as far as I can tell,” Victoria shrugged her broad shoulders. “I’ve checked every mage, and they’re showing no adverse effects… no memory loss, no sickness, no signs of demonic possessions, no intelligence loss… the only thing I can think of is some of the novices are a bit more aggressive, but that could simply be chalked up to puberty.”

“It’s long been believed that the Palamani have something that has made them so huge. Something we ate, perhaps?” Marvin asked.

Geralt shook his head. “It couldn’t be the food. This close to the border, it’s the same as Candaren.”

The Archmage snapped his fingers. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s the water.”

Victoria slowly nodded. “That would make some sense… every Palamani city has aqueducts, like the Remeran cities of old, and a public supply of water.”

“...which would explain why everyone in the Dominion is huge. Everyone has to drink water,” Geralt added.

The three mages were in agreement, but paused. Marvin sighed, rubbing his forehead as his bicep grinded against his pecs. “So, what do we do about it?”

“Well, I could think of many things that are several degrees worth than this…” Geralt flexed his arm, grinning at the respectable bulge on his arm.

“And it’s already effected everyone,” Victoria sighed. “Even Mage Charles is putting on muscle, and he’s older than the King.”

“Then… we let it continue,” Marvin concluded. “If we have to live amongst the Palamani, then we might as well be strong enough to match them. These townpeople are clearly not happy with us being here, and if ever the Legion soldiers fail to keep things quiet, I’d like for us to have some sort of edge.”

“Maybe we just need to give them space,” Geralt suggested. “This Imperator gave us more than just the castle, he gave us hundreds of acres. We can set up our own farms and maybe dig our own pipe to connect to the aqueduct, so we have all the essentials in the tower. It’ll limit the number of times we have to go into town.”

“Our own water supply would probably be for the best,” Marvin nodded. “They give me the nastiest looks in town when I go to collect water. I’ll have a talk with the Prefect tomorrow, and see what we can do about it.”

“Then it’s agreed. Try not to be nervous, Archmage… you look bigger than the Prefect already.” Geralt smirked.

The next morning, Marvin was at the barracks before most of the townspeople were up; the more he could avoid their nasty looks, the better.

This was the Archmage’s first dealing with the Prefect. A woman named Aurelena, she was the only female soldier in the town garrison, and the biggest of the lot. A proud looking lioness with massive arms roped with muscle and a chest big enough to spill out of her armor, she nonetheless had a very approachable, almost matronly personality. She offered Marvin a genuine smile as she rose to greet him to her office; they were just on par with each other at this point, with a slight edge to the Prefect.

“Ah! Archmage, please, sit,” she offered a leather stool at the foot of her desk; spartan in appearance, but sturdy and comfortable enough. “What can I do for you? How is your tower coming along?”

Marvin had a good feeling about Aurelena; she seemed reliable and reasonable. “Slowly but surely. The other mages want it to be even larger than our old tower, but given how some of our students have, ah, grown, that may be for the best.”

Aurelena gave a knowing smile. “Yes, well, it’s not like it was a secret we could hide from you. I’m sure that someone as clever as you would easily suss out the source. Have you ever heard of Jidou, Archmage?”

Marvin frowned. The name sounded vaguely familiar; he had seen it somewhere in a herbology book. “I’m not an alchemist, but… isn’t it a rather bitter herb from out East? It’s from very far away here, I think.”

“It’s a product grown in Da-Zhou. It’s the Dominion’s main ally, and our biggest trading partner. The sages of that empire have found that when distilled and ground into a fine powder, Jidou is able to have... profound effects,” she rolled her massive shoulders to make a point, “on the body.”

The Archmage let that sink in. “Well… there it is, then. Prefect, the mages and I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but we’ve been uncomfortable for some time, now. The people of the town look at us as if we were common criminals. We appreciate the Legion’s hospitality, but you can’t change the minds of the people. We’re used to being on our own. So, with your permission, we would like to dig a pipe connecting to the aqueduct to form our own water supply, on the Tower’s grounds.”

Aurelena sighed, tapping her claws against her desk. “Very well. My men will survey the aqueduct and pick a good place for you to start digging your pipe. Just… be warned. The people of this town are good people at heart, but the past few years have been… volatile for the Dominion, and several people point to magic as the reason for those troubles.”

“Why’s that?” Marvin asked.

“Our God, Roland, is a young god. He only rose a few years when he saved the Dominion from an evil trickster, who wielded deadly and powerful magic in a bid to drain the Palamani of all our strength. I saw my own husband drained of all his muscle, reduced to a husk.” The Prefect shook her head. “He still hasn’t recovered. I hold no grudge against you or your mages, Marvin. But I understand why people aren’t happy to see your kind in the Dominion.”

The horse shook his head. “But the Imperator himself invited us here!”

“And Imperator Renard is a very forward-thinking man. I agree with him, Archmage, and my men will protect you and yours like they would any other citizen. But like you said… we can’t change the minds of the people.” The Prefect rose and gathered some papers. “I’ll call on you tomorrow, and my men will take you to the site we’ve chosen. Have you heard from the capital?”

Marvin arched his brow. “The capital? No. Should I have?”

“I asked my husband to deliver it to you… do you remember seeing a lion? Red mane, rather on the lean side?”

Marvin shook his head. “I’ve not had any messages for me, if we’re not counting the graffiti we had to clean off our walls calling us demons.”

“Well, I’m sure he just forgot. But, you and your mages will want to look presentable; the Imperator is riding out to Candaren’s capital to receive the terms of surrender from their King, and he’s stopping by to see how your tower progresses.”

Marvin frowned. “Well… I hope we have enough to impress him, then. Thank you for your time, Prefect.”

The next day, Marvin, Geralt, Victoria, and a score of mages travelled out of the tower, following a Legion scout to meet the Prefect and her men. The giant aqueduct rose dramatically over the landscape, a massive series of stone arches stretching beyond the horizon in either direction. The mages looked up in awe; Candaren had nothing like this.

“Ah! Archmage!” Aurelena waved Marvin down. As the horse joined her, she pointed up to the top of the aqueduct, along the spine of a column. “We’ve marked this column here to serve as the cornerstone of a cistern, and you can dig your pipe from there.”

Geralt and Victoria came up, and Geralt in particular gave a critical eye to the spot. “It’s not too far from the tower… but there is that hill we had to climb over. We’ll have to dig right through it for the pipe.”

Marvin smirked, bouncing his pecs, those two slabs heaving against each other. “I think we can manage that. Thank you, Prefect Aurelena. Once we get a bit more work on the tower, we’ll start digging.”

Before the Prefect could say more, there was a rustling in the trees huddling around the base of the aqueduct columns. “There they are!”

A mob, several dozen strong, popped out of their hiding spots. Marvin recognized a few faces; they were the townspeople. He recognized the huge, black bull that worked as the blacksmith, and the angry looking eagle that served as the temple priest. The only one he didn’t recognize at the front was a lean, sickly looking lion with a full red mane.

“Leonus!” Aurelena gasped. “What’re you doing?”

“Making you see reason, Aurelena!” the skinny lion shouted. “Look at them! It’s not enough for these Candar tricksters to move into our land, they want to steal our Jidou, the very strength of our nation!”

The mages immediately backed away, huddling around Marvin, Geralt, and Victoria. “We’re not stealing anything!” Marvin shouted back.

“You bewitched our soldiers! Enthralled them! Just like the Dark Stranger, your sinful weakness is plain on your faces!” cried the eagle Priest.

“What? What nonsense are you spouting?” Geralt called back.

“Your bone-thin whelps make trouble every time they come to town!” the blacksmith bull growled.

“You chase them out before they have time to catch their breath!” Victoria shouted.

“Enough!” Aurelena pushed through both the mages and the townspeople, her soldiers flanking her on either side. “Leonus, tell these people to stand down!”

The Prefect’s husband sneered. “You can’t just order me around! I see what their kind can do! Look what they did to me!” the townspeople shouted their agreement. “Every mage is twisted by the Stranger; they’d sap us all of our strength if they had the chance! Drive them out before they take more of our strength for themselves!”

The townspeople pressed against the soldiers, and by sheer virtue of numbers, overwhelmed them. They charged the mages, but Marvin was ready for them. Flanked by Geralt and Victoria, the Archmage stomped one large hoof into the ground, and tensed his arms, muscles rippling from his boulder shoulders to his forearms thick as Leonus’ waist. Stretching them out, his triceps swelling in size, he summoned the winds, and a great gale blew the sickly lion and some of the smaller members of the mob, but one, the largest among them, held fast; the bull.

Slamming into the horse, the bull snorted, all his muscle grappling at the Archmage. He drove the horse back, as Geralt and Victoria were left to fend off the mob and protect the rest of their group. Marvin snarled, and flexing his chest, he forced the bull’s grip loose. He stood only slighter bigger than the massive blacksmith, but it was enough; grappling with the blacksmith, the horse’s arms surging with every ounce of power he had in him, his shoulders and chest swelling and pressing against his muzzle, and his tree-trunk legs digging into the ground, hooves pressing deep into the earth. Letting out a grunting roar to will up a surge of strength, he threw the bull off him, sending him flat on his back. Huffing from the exhiliration, his simple tunic had finally split, tatters fluttering to the ground as his expansive, engorged back, wide as a plain, breathed free at last. Marvin looked down at the bull, and stomped the ground again, and like an ocean wave sweeping across the beach, the land rose and heaved the bull back into a standing position.

“Leave! This fight is over!” Marvin shouted. The blacksmith stared at the horse, but Marvin only needed to take another threatening step towards him for the bull to back off.

The mages and the soldiers slowly pulled together, and the mob retreated.

“Damn you!” Leonus shouted back at the mages. “You won’t make the Dominion weak! We won’t take it for long!”

Aurelena was beside herself, and Marvin sighed, offering a concilitory pat on the shoulder. “That was your husband?”

The Prefect sighed and nodded. “His run-in with the Stranger affected his mind, too. But I didn’t think he’d whip people up into a mob like this.”

“Well, tell the Imperator we appreciate his gesture… but I don’t think the Dominion is going to be able to protect my mages from angry mobs.” Marvin looked back to the other mages, and gestured for them to head out. “Maybe it’s time for us to head home.”

The days passed by slowly. Work had stopped on the new tower, and the mages huddled inside the half-finished structure. Marvin conferred with Geralt, Victoria, and the other senior mages. They had fulfilled their end of the bargain; they weren’t going to rise up against the Imperator, but if a mob was going to rise up just for the digging of a pipe, it was time to head back to Candaren, but only after things calmed down. And no one knew when that would be. Every time, the mob would appear at their doorstep, shout profanities, mark the tower’s pristine stone walls with more graffiti, and when the mages refused to come out, they would eventually leave. All the while, the mages stayed inside, slowly whittling away their supplies, and quietly growing bigger and stronger on what Jidou they had left.

When a week passed, Marvin felt that they could wait no longer. As the sun rose, he began stirring the mages and told them to prepare to pack. Only, when he climbed to the top of the tower, which was only just tall enough to see over the trees, and on the horizon, there was a solid mass marching towards the town. Soldiers, a thousand strong, their polished armor reflecting the light of the sun, were bearing banners in red and gold, and it took only a little application of magic for Marvin to see closer, and spot the biggest man he had ever seen, an absolute titan of monumental proportions, covered in gold and clad in a purple robe that only just managed to traverse the span of his mammoth, bulging torso. It had to be the Imperator.

As the procession drew closer, the roar of trumpets and the thundering of drums and two thousand feet pounding on the cobble stone streets could be heard from the tower. The Imperator’s vast host was received with all the pomp and circumstance Aurelena and her small garrison could muster. Many of the townspeople came out, cheering wildly to see their Imperator, but several prominent figures were noticeable by their absence.

The mages were almost ready to leave. The ceremonies of receiving the Imperator were plenty of a distraction to allow the mages to slip out quietly. Marvin was the last one out, looking over their tower; it could’ve been a very fine building, and a wonderful home, but he had to face facts: he just wasn’t a good fit for the Palamani.

There was a faint sound of shouting in the distance, but as Marvin approached Geralt and Victoria, they could spot Aurelena rushing towards the mages; the Prefect’s armor was dented, her red cloak torn, and she was out of breath.

“Archmage! Marvin!” she gasped, almost crawling her way to them. “The Imperator, he’s been captured!”

Marvin blinked. “How… how is that even possible? I just saw him marching in with a thousand soldiers.”

“It’s my husband, Leonus! His old legionnaires were the Imperator’s honor guard! At his signal, they grabbed him and dragged him off to the garrison! They’re threatening to kill him!” The Prefect rushed to Marvin’s side. “They’re demanding you and all your mages in exchange for him.”

Marvin glared at her. “And you want me and my people to make that trade? We’ve had enough of your Dominion.”

Aurelena grabbed the horse’s huge arm. “Marvin, please! I want you to help me rescue him.”

“Why?” Geralt demanded. “Why should we do anything for your Imperator? Look at the mess he dragged us in!”

The horse sighed. “My mages have been harassed by the people of this town worse than any Candars in years. Regardless of how good Renard’s intentions were, I have to consider my people first.”

Aurelena returned the horse’s glare. “The Imperator offered you freedom. The Candars would’ve forced you into a losing war. If you run now, you’ll never convince the Palamani to accept mages. You didn’t deserve how they treated you, but no one, not even the Imperator, can force them to think differently. Do what you will, but if you save the Imperator, no one will dare question your strength.”

Marvin snorted, shaking his head. He already knew what choice he was going to make.

Leonus looked out of the garrison. He was beginning to doubt the effectiveness of his plan. They were surrounded by hundreds of Legionnaires, and the only thing keeping them at bay was the Imperator, held down by half a dozen soldiers in gilded armor, while a seventh held a blade to his throat- or at least, where he supposed the hybrid’s throat was. It was buried in a mass of pecs and mountainous shoulders.

“You know I could snap you in half, right?” Renard snarled at Leonus.

“We all wanted to follow you. We would’ve followed you to the ends of the earth. And then you let those… people in!” Leonus spat. “A true Palamani wouldn’t stoop so low. A faithful one would never abandon the God of the Strong like that.”

“What do you know about our God? I fought beside him!” Renard growled.

“More’s the pity.” Leonus turned back to the garrison entrance, and gasped. That sniveling mage was outside.

Marvin glared at the skinny lion holed up in the garrison. “Let him go, Leonus!”

“You’ve come to surrender, then? Good! Show these Palamani how weak magic makes you!” Leonus shouted, and the other soldiers with him inside roared their approval.

“No, I’ve come to offer you a chance to surrender. Let the Imperator go, and I won’t hurt you.” Marvin countered.

“I’m not falling for your tricks! Take another step, and I’ll throw the Imperator’s head at your feet!” Leonus shouted.

“Like you could even lift my head, weakling!” Renard’s voice shouted from inside. Some of the Legionnaires outside chuckled.

The lion stammered, and, his face red, turned back to Marvin. “Surrender now, mage! Do it, or the Imperator dies!”

The horse smirked. “You know, for a military man, you forgot something, Leonus.”

“What’s that?”

Marvin flexed and tensed his arms, until his biceps rolled against his forearms and shoulders, peaking big as the lion’s mane. “Always watch your flanks.”

Geralt and Victoria summoned up their power, and slammed the walls with magical energy, creating holes on either side. As they charged in, Leonus turned around to order the Imperator’s execution, but Marvin charged in, and summoning a burst of wind with the force of a gale, blasted the Honor Guard traitors away; only Renard stood his ground. With one single swoop of his arm, he scooped up the thin lion. Geralt and Victoria summoned up walls of ice, pinning Renard’s kidnappers into corners of the garrison. With the Imperator safe, Marvin turned back to the crowd waiting outside. Legionnaires were already pouring in, apprehending the traitors and steadying Renard. The horse looked down at Leonus and smirked, tossing the lion into the waiting arms of a legionnaire like he was a sack of flour.

Now that Renard was safe, the Imperator placed one huge hand on Marvin’s shoulder. The titanic hybrid had to tilt his head forward to look past his mammoth chest, grinning at the horse. “Glad to see you got my message.”

Marvin offered a tight smile. “Your hospitality is commendable, sir. But some of your subjects could do with some lessons in manners. It’s not been easy for us here.”

“It never is, for any of us. But I’m working to change that. Why don’t you show me the work you’ve done on your tower, and see if I can’t convince you to stay?” Renard rolled his shoulders, every swollen muscle on his torso rippling in a sheer show of mass. “I’ve been told I’m quite persuasive.”

Marvin nodded. “Well, throw in a separate supply of Jidou, and we’ll see if we can’t work something out.”

The Imperator chuckled. “You’ll fit in with the Palamani just fine. Come, show me your tower.”

Renard had to squeeze through the entrance, and as Marvin followed after, he felt a bit of pride as his shoulders brushed up against either side. Maybe he could become as big as Renard, given time. Who knew with magic?

The mages were being cheered by the Imperator’s troops, and as the Imperator led the way to the tower, Marvin spotted someone out of the corner of his eye; the hooded figure that had led them there in the first place. He gestured for the horse to follow, and Marvin, giving one look over his shoulder, complied.

They were in an alley, and he could clearly see the smirk on the guide’s face.

“What’s that look on your face for?” Marvin asked, crossing his arms. “Did you come here with the Imperator?”

“In a manner of speaking.” The guide tugged at his hood, and as his cloak fell away, the mysterious figure transformed into a figure so gargantuan, he dwarfed even Renard. There was a mane blue and gold tumbling down his swollen bullneck, white fur covering a body so god-like, the dimensions of its muscles it filled the entire alley. There was a single silver horn crowning his head, and he had to tilt down further than the Imperator, his hulking geographical mass of a back shoving against the walls, to see past his own chest. “I’m Roland, God of the Strong. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

Marvin’s jaw dropped as he slowly backed away. “I- I had no idea-”

Roland raised his hand. “It’s fine. I’m fairly new to… divinity. But soon, the Palamani will spread my message wide and far. But even then, my strong children need to learn a few more lessons. Something along the lines of prejudice being a weakness- I’m sure the priests will straighten it out,” he winked. “That, and I wanted them to see that strength is not necessarily theirs alone. If you and your mages make your home here, you’ll win them over yet.”

Marvin stared at the unicorn. “So you set this whole thing in motion?”

Roland nodded. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, and any trouble your mages went through. But the lesson for the Palamani had to be taught.”

The horse ran a hand through his mane. “This… is a lot to take in. I don’t suppose you have any advice about what I should do next?”

The divine unicorn chuckled, leaving Marvin with a wink. “Make sure Renard doesn’t skimp you on the Jidou… you could stand to bulk up a bit.”