As expected, my first true test, a venture without the Knight and his obscenely talented companion, went well, on my part at least. Those Curst were prostrate before us in second death. I had heard much of their great skill, as swordsmen and sneaks, and while it is a magical marvel that their lifeless limbs can move with such quickness and precision, they were no match for passion, the vitality and pleasure of the incantations leaving trembling lips, the gentle breath before impact, the smooth dance of the mage's hands, precise and well-rehearsed to cause the most pain. Arcane motes snaked from my fingertips, in steady streams or in a hailstorm of magics, finding their targets with a satisfying crash. There was a second wizard, a she-elf named Myrcella, and she was also highly-skilled, and a wit to boot. I've no doubt in saying that without us, those encased in steel and brandishing more brute weapons would have failed utterly.
Of course, with such... talent, came foolish comments and thoughtlessness. Either their helmets inhibit their hearing (which is foolish and dangerous) or they simply did not listen, and suffered for it. Having given ample warning of my intentions prior, I began an incantation for a scintillating sphere of lightening, but as the gestures were almost complete, one began the charge, and was thus caught in the attack. He grumbled incessantly about the dangers of magic, the same magic upon he relied for his quickness, increased strength and his position halfway between what is visible and what is invisible, making him far harder to touch with the blade. Another was dismissive - the group was quite large, and all wanted a taste of the power magic can grant. As such, most of my spell components were given over to their protection, leaving me with little space for the true devastation I can unleash, and it was the same for Myrcella. The phrase 'sitting ducks' was thrown about. He mocks now, but one day, I'll see him kneel before me and show me the respect I deserve.
But all in due time. Myrcella and I profited most from the journey, which was fitting given our work, as many scrolls were found in that dank cave. We divided the scrolls of use between ourselves, tucking them into spell-books and watching them attach themselves. We'd have had more coin to share out if it were not for the insistence of a woman named Silver to follow along and learn from those more skilled than she, her blades held at a distance so far from the Curst it rendered her useless. And I, merely a 'sitting duck' of a wizard, believed that daggers had to meet flesh to cause pain. How silly of me.
I had in mind to deny her a share, but I had no wish to start a fight, especially not within the Vistani encampment. Besides, as I was quickly reminded, good things come to the patient. Grace is a weapon, the smile a scythe and the flutter of eyelashes is a flurry of blows against those who seek to cause you harm. All others can do is call me pain. How small. Influence is wealth, and wealth influence.
I was reminded of this when speaking with Inspector Montte, who is in addition both Captain of the Republican Guard, and a Baron to boot. He has a sensible head on his shoulders. Perhaps, with further conversation, I will discover more of its inner workings.