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The Iron Box

Orem's Expedition

By FFR StoriesPublished about a year ago 16 min read
1

It was early one spring morning, and the day started like any other. Orem Wilkins woke up, washed up, and put on his robes. He then ran his fingers through his hair, not smoothing it down, but going for the mad scientist look for which he was known. Once he was dressed and prepared, he left his house and walked across the dirt road as the sun was just starting to creep up. On the small but well built building was inscribed the words ‘The Professor Is’ with a sign hanging underneath it. He flipped the sign from ‘Out’ to ‘In’, then snapped his fingers, unlocking the doors with a simple act of magic.

His business was not tiny, only a single room, and the first thing he did upon entering was, obviously, to go to a counter at the back of the room and start two pots of water in a stereotypical alchemical looking contraption, with the round beaker and swirling tubes. The water from one pot went through ground coffee while the other went through a cocoa mixture, both ending up in the same kettle with a spigot on the bottom. Once his coffee was brewed, he grabbed a chalice that had a picture of a stick figure sitting, despondent on it, along with the words ‘No Coffee’. He added a chewy confection of this own creation, containing cream, sugar, and mint, among other things, to the chalice and filled it up from the kettle. As the chalice filled, the stick figure picked up a top hat and a cane and began dancing as the words changed to ‘Fresh Coffee!’ Orem took a sip of his coffee and sighed as the mixture of mint, chocolate, and coffee were perfect as always.

As Orem sat down in a plush chair at the desk that dominated the center of the room, about to enjoy his coffee, he was interrupted by a knock at the door. “It’s open” he called out, before preparing, yet again, for a second sip of his coffee. Another knock interrupted him and he cursed under his breath, leaving his coffee on the desk to open the door. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find at this hour of day, but he did know that a skeleton bearing a metal box wasn’t it. The skeleton raised one hand to knock on the open space where the door had been when it was closed. The act of knocking on nothing would have revealed to any well trained magic user, for example Orem Wilkins, that the skeleton was in fact a drone. Drones are relatively simple to create, with the key word being relatively, as they can only follow a predetermined route and carry out a preestablished set of commands. Some could take simple evasive maneuvers, but that’s the only amount of variation they showed from their routine.

Anyway, after the drone attempted its third knock, it set the box down on Orem’s doorstep and collapsed into a pile of bones. Orem guessed that it was designed to knock three times, but it may have been designed to knock until somebody opened the door, and there was really no way to tell the difference. Orem squatted down to investigate the box closer, and found that the metal that the box was made of, or at least coated in, was iron, which prevented him from using magic to investigate what was inside. It would be tricky and expensive to design, but it would be useful in hiding something from a magic user. It we’re being specific, the box was edged with other metals, allowing magic to be used on it, but underneath those other metals was more iron, which was used to block magic.

Orem Wilkins sighed deeply and went over to his fireplace and retrieved a thick pair of leather gloves and a heavy leather apron, covered in magical runes to protect the wearer from magical damage. Once wearing this protective equipment, he returned to the still open door and carefully picked up the box, moving it over to his desk. He absentmindedly moved his chalice from the desk to the counter, coffee all but forgotten, then he went and moved the drone to the desk as well, methodically laying the bones out until they were laid out in the proper places. Having retrieved everything from his doorstep, he removed one glove and lazily flicked a hand, conjuring magic to close the door without having to leave the desk, before replacing the glove.

Before continuing, Omar went to a chest in the corner of the room and pulled out a roll of hide, which he also brought to the desk. He unrolled this, revealing several sizes of scalpels, foreceps, tweezers, saws, and a pair of goggles, which he donned. He then returned to the chest and retrieved a breathing apparatus from inside, donning that as well. Finally he opened a cabinet and removed a tray bearing jars and vials of various sizes, as well as several sticks of red sealing wax. Outfitted with everything that he hoped he would need to protect himself from anything that may be carried in that box, either magical or physical, he returned with the tray of glassware to the desk.

The first step that Omar Wilkins wanted to take was to ensure that the drone was fully disabled and not simply dormant, and that it wouldn’t jump up and attack him or do anything else malicious as he attempted to do precision work. As such, he began the long and tedious work of going over every inch of every piece of the drone. He had to do this manually, without magic, as he had seen several clever wizards install traps on drones that would lay dormant until magic was used on them by anyone other than the creator. He began manually searching for small runes carved into bones on an entire skeleton. He started searching in the most common place, looking at the skull, peering into the eye sockets, removing the jawbone, checking for false teeth, and he found nothing. So he moved on to the hands, also a favorite place to hide runes as there are a lot of small bones. There also, he found nothing. The third place he decided to check was one of the less common places to hide runes, but was one of his favorite places to hide runes on drones: the spine. A cursory examination revealed nothing, as did a closer examination. However, upon separating the individual vertebrae and examining them, he found a rune hidden on the upper portion of the fourth vertebra, covered by the third vertebra. He used a set of foreceps to pick up the fourth vertebra, and used one of the smaller scalpels to very carefully remove the rune from the vertebra without damaging the rune. Once the rune had been extricated, he used a set of tweezers to pick up the rune and drop it into one of the smaller vials. Once the rune was in the vial, Orem replaced the foreceps, tweezers, and the scalpel to their proper place. Once those had been replaced, he removed one of his gloves and picked up a stick of sealing wax, using a modicum of magic to melt a small amount, using that melted wax to seal the vial with the rune inside.

As Orem was sealing the vial, he heard the door bang open, and a man calling out. “Professor Wilkins! Professor Wilkins!”

Orem held up a single finger as he placed his thumb on the melted wax. As he placed his thumb on the wax the color changed to a shimmering, multicolored, almost metallic color. The change in color was to ensure that the vial hadn’t been tampered with. Once he had properly sealed and secured the vial, he turned to the large, young man in the doorway. “Ah, Matthew! What seems to be the problem?”

Matthew was eyeing the iron box on the desk. “You got one too?”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘too’?” asked Orem, cautiously.

“About a dozen people in town woke up to find metal boxes and piles of bones on their doorsteps” explained Matthew. “Nobody could figure out who sent them, or even how to open them, so we decided to send someone to ask the resident wizard.”

Orem’s eyes widened in alarm. “You tried to open them?” Matthew nodded. “Where are these boxes now?”

“We gathered them in the center of town so that you could inspect them all at the same time” responded Matthew. “I brought a carriage to take you to the boxes, and there’s enough room that we could bring along your box as well.”

Orem rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply, sparing a glance at his coffee chalice, which now bore a stick figure in a block of ice and the words ‘Cold Coffee’. Then he nodded and replaced his second glove before picking up the iron box. “Alright, let’s head out.” He grabbed his box and placed it in the carriage, then rolled up his instruments in the hide and put those and the glassware in the carriage as well.

The two of them arrived at the center of town shortly, where there were seventeen boxes of varying size collected. The largest box was roughly the size of a chest of drawers, and the smallest were around the size of a bread box. Each box had a skeleton laid out beside it and the person to whom they were delivered standing behind it. The rest of the town had also gathered in the vicinity, and everyone was looking somewhat anxious. Orem placed his box near the other and removed the roll of hide and the glassware from the carriage. The next thing that he did was remove the runes from all the skeletons, sealing all the runes in different vials. He found all of the runes between the third and fourth vertebrae of all of them, same as with the drone that he found at his door.

The mayor, who had received the largest of the boxes, decided that it was now safe to ask questions, once Orem was done removing runes. “Professor Orem Wilkins” she said “do you know where these boxes came from, or what may be inside?”

Orem nodded contemplatively. “I have a guess, but the only way to be certain is to open them which is, in a word, stupid. But I’m willing to do so, provided we go Code Three first.”

The mayor licked her lips nervously, as her mouth had just gone suddenly dry. “Code Three? What are you expecting to happen?”

“Hopefully nothing” responded Orem. “Probably nothing, honestly. I know half a dozen people off the top of my head who know how to put something like this together and would find it funny, so there’s a non-zero possibility that the boxes are open or full of confetti or something.”

“You’re hiding something, what is it?” asked the mayor, getting closer and speaking quieter, so as not to be overheard.

Orem exhaled deeply. “Alright, every rune needs to be hand carved, that allows the Runescribe to imbue it with its power, do you understand?” The mayor nodded hesitantly. “Because of that, each Runescribe will have a unique manner of inscribing runes. I’ve seen this manner of Runescribing before, and I hope I’m wrong, because if he’s involved in this…”

“Very well then. Code Three?” the mayor verified. Orem nodded, somewhat glumly. The mayor called out to all the townspeople “We are at Code Three people! This is not a drill!” At that announcement, the townspeople started murmuring excitedly and somewhat alarmed, as well as moving methodically and with definite purpose.

Code Three for this town was set up jointly by the town wizard, Professor Orem Wilkins, and the leadership of the town, as a means of evacuation in the event of some magical disaster. One of the first things that happened was that a delivery bird, specifically a falcon, was brought to Orem, as well as paper and a writing implement. He wrote a note explaining the issue, and what he feared was going on, and used the falcon to send the message petitioning for aid from a group that he believed could help in this situation, that group specifically being the Knights After the Manner of the First Holy Order for this specific situation.

At the same time, several people took Orem’s key, and went to his shop, opening a trapdoor in the floor and retrieving dozen identical metal stakes with crystal spheres on top. Once those stakes were retrieved, the group pounded them into the ground in a circle surrounding the town, with equidistant spacing. Simultaneously, there was another group gathering the animals together, while a third group went into every house and made certain everyone in town was aware of the evacuation order. There was also a final group making a meal for everyone in the town, while everybody else busied themselves packing. Preparations began slightly after nine in the morning, and were finished around noon, which is honestly fantastic time to evacuate an entire town.

There were three towns somewhat nearby that this town evacuated to, and to that end there were six horse riders behind with magnifying lenses, so they could evaluate the situation and report if and when it was safe to return. Once the town was safely evacuated and the riders were all outside the circle of metal stakes, Orem tapped one of the orbs, while standing inside the circle. It began glowing and let out a chime, and the glow and chime moved on to the other stakes in the circle. Once the protective circle was activated, he replaced all of his protective gear and then returned to the boxes in the center of town. He picked up the box that had been delivered to him and examined it more closely. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he removed his glove and hesitantly placed his open hand, palm down, on the box. When he did so, glowing writing appeared on the edges of the box.

Orem glanced and the writing and scoffed, exasperated. “Blood. Everybody requires blood. How cliché. Have an original idea.” He picked up a needle from the roll of hide and pricked his thumb, smearing the blood on the box. When he did so, the bottom of the box disappeared, and an elf’s head, missing its body, fell out of it. As this happened, one side of the largest box opened and an elf’s body, missing its head, rolled out. Orem instinctively dropped the box and jumped back.

Once the box was out of his hands, all of the boxes flew together, assembling themselves in a vaguely humanoid shape, standing at twelve feet tall. During this event, the headless body stood and walked over to the head, picking it up and affixing it to its neck. There was a squelching and popping noise as the two pieces of neck reconnected. The elf turned and faced Orem, smirking. “Chicken. Long time no see. Still pretending to be a wizard?”

Orem scowled back. “Double Stuff. Still using twice as much energy as necessary for all your spells?”

Double Stuff narrowed his eyes at Orem. “Irrelevant, as I have perfected your soul siphon spell. Behold!” The box creature lethargically took one lumbering step forward and froze.

Orem looked on, unimpressed. “Yeah, great. First of all, it was already perfected by me and Aelar, and second, you really thought I wouldn’t recognize the feel of a soul siphon being setup? I obviously took steps to avoid your golem drawing power from me.” The golem took a second slow, blundering step and froze again.

“Alright, fine” said Double Stuff, exasperated. “We’ll do this the hard way, I guess.” He cupped his right hand and summoned a brightly glowing, undulating purple and silver orb, roughly the size of his head.

Upon seeing this, Orem took a step back, squinting at the light. “Really? Raw, unrefined magic? You couldn’t think of anything more dangerous to summon?” The orb languidly floated towards Orem as Double Stuff grinned sadistically. “You never learned why I earned the nickname Chicken, did you? It’s because I don’t flinch.” With that declaration, a red, sparkling dart raced from his fingertips and pierced the orb, creating an explosion that engulfed both of them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jeshua Trocair rested in the center of town, in front of a pure white fire, imbued with holy magic, that he had set to engulf what remained of the golem and the two partial skeletons that were found near it. He was resting after having moved several hundred pounds of materials to help the townspeople fix of what had been damaged. A figure wearing full black platemail strode down the street, carrying a sack, and Jeshua stood up, snapping to attention.

“Ser Micah Lamont!” called out Jeshua. “What news to report?”

“At ease boy” replied Micah. “I’m not your superior, you’re an Arch-Knight now. You can drop the formalities. I never cared about the formalities much anyway, but even if I did, we’re equals and I can’t censure you or inflict any other punishments.”

“Oh, um…alright...Micah. Did you find anything?” asked Jeshua.

“As a matter of fact…” Micah reached into the sack and pulled out the head of Double Stuff.

“You cannot do anything to me! I will be out of your grasp in a matter of days! You won’t even get me to trial!” ranted Double Stuff. It was obvious that he had been ranting for a while, but couldn’t be heard from inside the sack.

“A fair point” stated Micah. “You admit to using magic, an innate power of creation, to maim, kill, and destroy without cause?”

“I have the power of the gods and shall use it as I please” responded Double Stuff.

“Wonderful!” said Micah, taking everyone by surprise. “Then, by the power vested in me, by...well, choose any of the gods, I judge you guilty of malfeasance, and the only acceptable recourse is death.” With that statement, Micah tossed the head into the fire.

The head screamed for about twenty seconds before falling silent. Once it fell silent, Jeshua spoke up. “Isn’t it against every one of our tenets to kill a defenseless man without letting him face trial?”

“That was his trial” said Micah, simply. “He admitted to perverting the power of creation to his own whims unrepentantly. Also, while you took the oath of Mercy, I took the oath of the Witchslayer, granting me limited abilities to act as judge, jury, and executioner against any who use magic maliciously.”

“I suppose” said Jeshua hesitantly. “It still seems unnecessarily cruel.”

“Perhaps” responded Micah, shrugging. “You could have caught him before he went into the fire if you disagreed with me. Or just spoken up. Also, that’s holy fire, had the gods deemed him to be innocent, the fire wouldn’t have harmed him. Now, if that’s all, I am needed elsewhere.”

With that, Micah took off down the road, while Jeshua stayed behind to help the effort of rebuilding the city center.

Fantasy
1

About the Creator

FFR Stories

FFR Stories is run by Will & Brian. One is a pseudonym and the other is my imaginary friend. We tend toward writing fantasy. Many of our stories will be set in the same or similar worlds of my own creation. tumblr.com/blog/ffr-stories

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