Fendim's Flaming Centipede.
Naming a spell after himself seemed to take on another meaning in Ruger's eyes at that moment. His Excellency Fendim had not simply wanted people to remember him.
There seemed to be a desire to pass something on. In his final days, this old Wizard had left behind a spell bearing his own name and told a story from his youth. It was almost perfect, as though he wanted those who came after him to long for certain things in that story and keep trying the spell even after he was gone. There was another point worth noting: His Excellency Fendim had not been confirmed dead. He had merely disappeared, which made this spell seem even more like an invitation.
A young Wizard who could understand the spell and understand that eccentric old man, perhaps with a little luck, a little talent, some affinity for the spell, and a fondness for stories, who would investigate and verify the story-and, above all, had enough time on his hands-might have a chance to meet His Excellency Fendim again.
Provided that the old Wizard was truly alive and the story was true, rather than a story and spell he had deliberately left behind before hiding away to await his death, playing one last joke on the world.
The final joke of a man who had lived his whole life without friends.
Of course, Ruger did not consider himself qualified, because he did not have that much time to spare.
Ruger alternated between activities according to his plan, focusing on studying spells with meditation as a supplement. Practicing spells and similar activities had all been suspended for the time being.
Only fine food, his old recliner, and the Spellbook revolved around him.
When he found himself inexplicably understanding His Excellency Fendim,