Chapter 968: The Magic Penis Tower

The group stepped out of the mess hall and into the afternoon light, making their way through the winding paths toward the Magic Tower. Ragnora took the lead, her massive frame cutting a path that others naturally fell in behind.

Isabelle walked at her side, practically bouncing with every step.

"—and the way you redirected that charging Salamnaca by simply turning your shoulder at the last possible moment! I read about that in Legends of the Crimson Commander, volume three, but the book said you used a sidestep, not a shoulder turn!"

"Which was it really, Commander? The sidestep or the shoulder?"

Ragnora blinked. "The shoulder. The book was wrong."

"The shoulder!" Isabelle clutched her hands to her chest as though she’d just been given a sacred revelation. "I knew it! I told my friends it had to be the shoulder—a sidestep wouldn’t have generated enough torque to redirect a charging Salamnaca—but they said I was being obsessive."

"Well, who’s obsessive now, Marta?!"

Ragnora glanced down at the smaller woman with an expression that hovered somewhere between bewilderment and fondness.

In all her years, she had never encountered a fan quite this...dedicated. Isabelle had apparently memorized every book, every bard’s tale, every scrap of information about her career.

It was, she had to admit, rather endearing.

"If you’re interested." Ragnora offered. "the Salamnaca actually had a cracked frontal plate. I noticed it mid-charge."

"That’s why I used the shoulder—any direct strike would have shattered the plate and sent bone fragments into the nearby squad. The shoulder turn dispersed the force laterally."

Isabelle’s eyes went impossibly wide.

"A cracked frontal plate! That’s not in any of the books! No bard has ever mentioned that!"

"Oh, Commander, that’s—that’s like getting a special edition of a story! An Easter egg! Behind-the-scenes content!"

"Behind-the-scenes...content?"

"Yes! The secret details that only the creator knows! And you just gave one to me!"

Isabelle looked like she might faint from joy.

"I’m going to write this down the moment we stop walking. The cracked plate. The shoulder turn. The tactical consideration for the nearby squad. This is gold!"

Ragnora studied Isabelle’s glowing face and found herself thinking, quite unexpectedly, that the supposed archmage was rather adorable.

—

Behind them, a different kind of conversation was taking place.

Cassius walked among the soldiers like he’d been marching with them for years.

He’d fallen into step beside a wolf beastkin named Garret and a human swordsman called Tomas, and within minutes he had them both laughing.

"So let me get this straight." Cassius said, grinning. "Your wife proposed to you?"

Garret’s tail wagged despite his best efforts to look dignified.

"In the middle of the mess hall! In front of everyone! She walked right up to my table, slammed her fist down, and said—"

He puffed out his chest and deepened his voice to a gruff approximation of his wife’s tone.

"’Garret, you’re taking too long. We’re getting married. Next spring. Don’t be late.’"

Cassius laughed. "And what did you say?"

"What could I say? I said ’Yes, ma’am.’ I’ve been saying ’Yes, ma’am’ ever since." Garret shook his head fondly. "Best decision I ever made. She’s terrifying. I love her."

"That’s the secret, isn’t it?" Tomas chimed in. "Find someone who scares you a little. Keeps things interesting."

"Speaking from experience?"

Tomas grinned.

"My wife could probably kill me with her bare hands. I come up to about here on her."

He held his hand at shoulder height. "When we argue, she just picks me up and puts me on a high shelf until I calm down."

The soldiers around them burst into laughter.

"You let her do that?!"

"What am I supposed to do? I can’t reach the floor! I just sit there like a scolded cat until she decides I’ve learned my lesson."

Cassius clapped him on the shoulder. "You’re a wiser man than most, Tomas. How long have you two been married?"

"Twelve years this winter. Three kids. All of them taller than me already." He said it with enormous pride.

"What about you, Sir Cassius?" Garret asked. "You and Lady Isabelle—how long have you been together?"

Cassius’s expression softened.

"Long enough that I can’t imagine life without her. She’s..."

He glanced toward the front of the group, where Isabelle was still enthusiastically interrogating Ragnora.

"She’s everything. My anchor. My reason."

The soldiers exchanged glances. There was no mockery in Cassius’s voice—just simple, unadorned truth.

"That’s rare." Garret said quietly. "A man who can say that so openly."

"I don’t see the point in hiding it." Cassius shrugged. "If you love someone, you should tell them. And tell everyone else, too. Life’s too short for quiet devotion."

"Hear, hear." Tomas murmured.

—

The conversation flowed easily and Ragnora who was listening along found herself increasingly impressed.

These soldiers, many of whom had developed deep prejudices against mages after years of condescension were opening up to Cassius as if he were one of their own.

They talked about their families, their worries, their hopes.

They joked with him. Teased him. Laughed with him.

It was remarkable.

’What is your story?’ She wondered, studying the white-haired man from the corner of her eye.

His appearance suggested noble blood—that pale hair, those refined features, the way he carried himself with unconscious confidence.

But his behavior was entirely different.

He acted like a soldier. Spoke like one. Connected with her troops like one.

And honestly, if she hadn’t received Julie’s letter vouching for him, she would have kept her distance.

People like Cassius whose true nature she couldn’t immediately read had caused problems in the past. She’d learned to be wary.

But Julie trusted him. And Ragnora trusted Julie.

So she pushed her concerns aside and continued walking.

Still, she couldn’t help but notice that Cassius kept glancing at her. Specifically, at her back. And every so often, when he thought no one was listening, he would whisper strange things under his breath.

"What a powerful back..."

"Must feel like sculpted marble..."

The sheer definition of the trapezius..."

"I wonder if she could crush a man with those shoulder blades alone...probably...definitely..."

Ragnora’s ears burned.

She glanced around quickly, but no one else seemed to have heard.

The soldiers were too busy laughing at something else Cassius had said earlier. She was the only one who’d caught those soft, reverent whispers.

’What was wrong with this man?’

But before she could dwell on it further, they arrived at their destination.

—

The Magic Tower rose before them like a dark monolith against the grey sky.

It was an imposing structure, eight stories of black stone that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

There were no windows visible from the outside, just smooth walls that climbed toward the heavens like a massive pillar.

"It looks like a prison." Isabelle murmured, her head tilting back as she tried to take in the full height of the structure.

But despite its grim exterior, the area around the tower bustled with activity.

Mages in various colors of robes and styles of hats walked in and out, carrying scrolls and magical instruments.

The moment they spotted Ragnora approaching, however, they immediately snapped to attention.

"Good afternoon, Commander!"

"Hope you had a wonderful lunch, Commander!"

"I saw you slaughter those beasts earlier—absolutely magnificent!"

"The Stone-kin are still talking about how you held three at once. Three! At once!"

Ragnora acknowledged each greeting with a humble nod.

Even the security guards at the entrance, who were tasked with checking everyone’s credentials simply stepped aside and bowed as she passed.

The group stepped through the entrance, and Isabelle’s breath caught in her throat.

It was hollow.

From the ground floor, she could see all the way to the top—eight levels of concentric walkways spiraling around the inner walls, each floor packed with mages in different-colored robes moving with purpose.

Some walked normally along the curved corridors.

Others flew, levitating between floors as though stairs were beneath their dignity.

BOOM!

Just then, a distant boom echoed from somewhere above. Isabelle flinched.

"That’ll be the Theoretical Magic floor." Brenda said with a grin. "Someone probably tried to prove that fire and ice can coexist in the same elemental matrix. It never works. They never learn."

Another explosion, louder this time. A puff of purple smoke drifted down from the fourth floor, followed by a muffled shout: "I meant to do that!"

"Ah." Brenda added. "Runes department. They’re having a rough week."

The entire space felt alive. Magical. Dangerous in the most exciting way.

Brenda noticed Isabelle’s expression and grinned smugly.

"Impressive, isn’t it? This is the Mage Tower, the beating heart of all magical operations in the Holyfield Mines!"

"Every mage in the territory contributes here. Every spell, every formation, every rune that protects our soldiers and our mines was developed within these walls."

She gestured upward, pointing at each level in turn.

"Eight floors total! Each one houses a different department!"

"The ground floor handles defensive formations—barriers, wards, anything that protects the mines from physical and magical threats."

"Second floor is offensive formations—battle magic, speed enchantments, strength augmentation for the troops."

"Third floor is combat mages. Pure offensive specialists."

"Fourth is theoretical magic. Fifth is runecraft. Sixth is alchemy and potion-making. Seventh is—"

She paused, noticing Isabelle’s slightly glazed expression.

"Anyway. The point is, this tower is the pride of the Holyfield Mines. Every mage here would die to protect it." She smiled. "As someone with your talents, Lady Isabelle, I imagine this is the place you’ll enjoy most in the entire territory."

Isabelle forced a bright smile. In truth, she would much rather be in a kitchen surrounded by ingredients and recipe books.

But she couldn’t exactly say that.

Cassius, meanwhile, had been studying the tower’s architecture with an expression of genuine interest.

But it was a different kind of interest than Isabelle expected.

"You know." He said slowly, his voice carrying just a bit too far in the echoing space. "It kind of looks like a—"

"Darling!" Isabelle lunged for him, clamping her hand over his mouth. "Don’t! Please!"

She already knew what he was going to say. But it was too late.

"A penis." He said cheerfully. "The whole tower. It looks like a massive, upright penis."

Absolute silence.

The soldiers stared. The mages passing by froze mid-step. Even Ragnora turned to look at him with an expression of profound bewilderment.

"I mean, look at it." Cassius continued, gesturing expansively at the tower around them. "It’s just a big, straight rod going up and up and up!"

And if they’d made the roof flat, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But someone specifically decided to put that mushroom-shaped cap up there!"

He pointed at the ceiling.

"Tell me that doesn’t look like a—"

"OH MY GOD!" A wolf beastkin soldier doubled over, howling with laughter.

"He’s right! He’s absolutely right! I’ve been walking past this tower for seven years and I never—but now I can’t unsee it!"

Another soldier was crying. "A penis! It’s a giant penis! We’ve been working in the shadow of a giant penis!"

"The Magic Penis Tower!"

"It’s standing so upright and tall—"

"I’m never going to be able to look at this tower the same way again!"

The soldiers were in hysterics. Some had actually collapsed against the walls, clutching their stomachs.

The mages, however, were not laughing.