Earl Seaward, the Archivist Assistant
"I am not sure something like this can wait. If what your feeling is correct, which by all means I believe it to be, then there is no telling when whatever this is may strike. Of course, I do not mean to be hasty," Earl placed the sheathed broadsword on his back before going down one of the aisles of the library, stopping near the center before facing a shelf containing a special tome that he reaches for. Opening the book a piece of parchment falls out and is picked up off the floor. He brings both the parchment and book back to Harold and begins to silently read a passage that makes runes appear upon the scrap of paper.
Still quietly reciting the incantation, he walks over to Harold before stopping only a foot or so from in front of him, bending down to place the paper just in front of the old man's feet. With the book in his other hand he backs off slowly while finishing off the final words of the spell that is intending to complete. Speaking the last word with an elongated emphasis, he points to the paper while speaking the last syllable and watches the paper flash for a split second, the runes disappearing right before the very paper disintegrates from existence, a puff of white mist floating up from where it had previously been. The mist expands until it takes up the entire library, though if anyone were to breathe it in they would detect not a single scent or taste from it as its appearance was just cosmetic.
"I do not want to risk anyone entering the library while we go speak with the King," spoke the young assistant with great care in his voice. The purpose of the mist was to be a kind of deterrent to low level demons and some mages that would not be able to pass through it without alerting the castor or the intended holder of the spell, which was made to be Harold when the paper was placed in front of his feet.
"As you know," the confident youth spoke again,
"this spell allows both of us to know if anyone with even the tiniest bit of magical property enters this room while we are away. Strong mages will of course be able to block themselves from being detected but even then the mist will act as a defensive mechanism and attempt to fill the lungs of those who try to trespass here. It won't kill them of course, it is not that kind of spell. At the very most it would cause them to feel woozy and drain them of energy." He smiled as he went to place the book back onto the shelf in its proper place,
"I love magic. It's a shame I do not have the inherent ability to use it.""Now," he suggested while returning to Harold,
"I would not mind speaking about this matter over another breakfast," Earl winked at his father before gesturing his arm towards the door,
"after you?"Archibald the Puppet Master
"When is that Francis going to arrive?" Spoke the dark mage out loud as he waited inside the center of the cavern he had recently created for the troops that would be training here. He wanted to wait until the General arrived to know if the place he carved out would be able to accommodate the part of the army that would be in here. This was because Archibald considered himself to be a perfectionist, and was not because he felt like he needed to ensure the King's men were comfortable in any way. He could careless about such things and would rather have them all be his undead slaves. Still, he understood the importance of having some followers still alive. Sure the undead creatures were always obedient and followed every order to the T, but that was also a problem at some points. They would follow orders relentlessly, even if it meant doing something foolish and dangerous to themselves. Of course, Archibald did not care if his puppets got themselves killed as far as caring for them but it was an inconvenience to have to resupply himself with a new batch of followers every time one of his previous ones would fall off a cliff in order to pursue a foe.
Yes, as much as he disliked the living filth that was around him, he did know that they were in fact useful at times. Especially this General Francis that the Archmage now waited on. "The good General is not going to tolerate the King's insolence forever," Archibald spoke to himself while contemplating the meeting that took place between the three of them earlier,
"and neither shall I for that matter. For now, I shall put up with it as this war he looks forward to will do wonders for my magic." He, of course, is referring to being able to grow his undead armor to incredible numbers which would then make him a much more powerful necromancer as his magic abilities in that field are heavily determined by the amount of followers he has under his wing.
Initially, to gain a servant, he must give up a small portion of his power, along with some blood, while performing an exact ritual that turns the followers from living to undead. The ritual must be done with precise care or else it will fail and not only will the undead creature not be his slave but Archibald will also be drained heavily of his power and blood, which could kill him instead. But once the ritual has taken place, the servant(s) have been turned, and the Puppet Master has regained his strength he gains a small boost in power from it. For each undead slave, his power grows just a bit which he can then use to make his other magical abilities stronger as well. Unfortunately for his enemies, this power does not decrease whenever a servant is lost. He still retains his power but must use more of his own energy to replace lost soldiers.
"Plus we need the General to be in high spirits if he is to produce the kind of results on the battlefield that we are used to seeing," the mage continued to speak aloud to himself as he waited,
" No, this King will end up being the end of us if he continues on like this...well, the end of the kingdom at least. I shall not allow myself to be taken down because of his arrogance. For now, however, I shall tolerate it. His power is far too great to ignore and with proper wielding will be of great use to me."