A Fantasy Novel Prologue

Using Spheres as a means of travel is far from trivial. Even Gods have to properly calculate where they’ll come out - at least that’s what the priests tell everyone.
Garius Glegnark didn’t believe that. He believed in the Gods, sure. But in his opinion, Gods should be able to move between the Spheres without any calculations. After all, what was being a God good for if you couldn’t even avoid Math?
Having calculated his path - according to the spherespeeds the Spherologists had determined that morning - Garius checked that he had everything he needed one last time: Sword. Dagger. Flask of Water. A book to read while waiting (in his experience, contracts from the Union always involved waiting). Some money. His writ of account from Berklyss’ Bankhouse. _All there, perfect_.
He reached out with his mind, feeling those edges of reality that marked the distinction between the Spheres, then he willed his body into the Second Sphere and started counting.
One.
There was nothing interesting around him, emptiness mostly.
Two.
He always felt inadequate, intruding upon the dead.
Three. Garius willed himself into the Third Sphere.
Shapes crowded Space. There was barely enough light to tell one from another.
One.
The shapes noticed him, began circling him carefully.
Two.
There were horns protruding from some heads towards - well, upwards. Whatever there was up there in this Sphere - he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know.
Three.
They understood that he was alone. That there was no-one there to help him. They started closing in.
Four! Garius willed himself back into the Second Sphere, the first shapes a mere arm-length away from him. A quick look around: No shapes seemed to have followed.
One. And back into the First Sphere, back to the normal world.
Cold air gripped his cloak as he appeared in the middle of a field of wheat. A farmer, near where he had come out, looked up at the sound of wheat crushed beneath leather boots, noticed the ‘W’ embroidered on Garius’ cloak, and managed to quickly turn the frown that had been building on his face into what could almost be considered a smile, and a “Good day to you, sir.”
Garius acknowledged him with a quick nod, but his eyes were already fixed on the massive walls that rose about two miles to the north, behind which lay the biggest city in all of Celestria.
Close enough, he thought. And, with a look over his shoulder to the farmer, who had already returned to his work: They are probably used to Wizards appearing in their fields out of nowhere.
Then he strode off towards the walls, more wheat crunching beneath his boots as he made his way to Nosgarth.

Garius had done well to take the book. When his lengthy wait in the anteroom of the Sub-Chancellor of the Union came to an abrupt end as the Sub-Chancellor’s secretary announced (and promptly mispronounced) his name, Garius carefully replaced his bookmark, noticing that he had been kept waiting for about 150 pages, and, making a mental note that he would need to buy more books soon, rose from the chair he had been occupying, and entered the Sub-Chancellor’s chamber.
The first impression he always got when entering this room was that of a gentleman’s study in which a rabid dog had been set loose on a small but fast animal. All kinds of books, scrolls, notes, letters and other papers were scattered haphazardly across the room; some on one of the various desks, or shelves, some on the floor, strewn in a pattern which indicated that they might once have belonged to a single upright pile of items, until a careless visitor had brushed against the unstable construct and caused it to crumble and falter and splay across the floor where it lay still, as if none of the people who frequented the room had any time to waste on such trivial things as a pile of papers on the floor.
Sitting behind what probably was a writing desk beneath all the layers of various papery items on top was the master of the room, very much unfazed by the apparent chaos all around him.
The Sub-Chancellor (for this was him) was an elderly man, hair mostly grey, and already thinning considerably at the temples, a rather grave face, and the attitude of a man who had to get things done.
Garius stepped up in front of the writing desk. There was no point in trying to find a place to sit.
Sub-Chancellor Miranor finished scribbling a note, put his quill in its holder, and turned his face towards Garius.
“Mr. Glegnark, we’d like you to travel to the colonies and investigate an issue we’ve been experiencing as of late.”, Miranor said with that precise voice of his, savouring every syllable as if it were an unexpectedly exquisite morsel at a banquet.
Efficient as always, getting right to the point, thought Garius.
“What kind of an issue?” It had to be serious to send anyone to travel to the colonies, even more so if they were trying to send a high-ranking Wizard like himself.
“Over the last few months, more and more of our shipments we expected from the colonies have gone… missing.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of worker strike again? Like during the Stone Crisis a few years back?”, Garius suggested.
“We are quite sure, Mr. Glegnark, that it is no such thing. For one, the shipments were of a variety of wares. Furthermore, our people on the shipments that _did_ come through assure us that all shipments had dutifully left their origin.”
Garius thought for a moment.
“Travelling to the colonies is quite a journey. I can’t just travel there with by Spheres.”
“We are well aware of that. You would be travelling with one of our shipments to the colonies. It would take you a few Quints to get there of course. But we are quite certain that it is paramount to have an investigator of your.. ahh, caliber, present at the place. If the shipments keep going missing, we’ll have an economic crisis on our hands much larger than the Stone Crisis. Some prices have already started rising due to the missing wares from the shipments, and rumours are starting to spread in some economic circles. We need to contain this before it gets out of hand.”
Garius turned the proposition over in his mind. 
“I would need to get quite a bit of gear for a job of that size…”, he ventured, letting the end of the sentence, and its meaning, hang in the air between them.
The Sub-Chancellor reached into a drawer at his right, pulling out a pouch that was obviously filled with money. “That will be no problem. We’ve allotted a significant amount of our budget for the purchase of just such gear. At your own discretion, of course.” He placed the pouch on a precariously balanced stack of books on his writing desk, in easy reach of Garius’ hand.
So this was actually important. Garius usually had trouble getting reimbursed for the simplest expenses made during his jobs, and now they were just handing him a pouch of money to use ‘at his discretion’.
“You do know that I’m usually paid by the hour, do you?”
“Most certainly Mr. Glegnark. We are prepared to pay your full rate for the total duration of the job, although we’d like to calculate the pay on a daily instead of an hourly basis, if you don’t mind.”
No, he didn’t mind.
“Look, Garius”, started Miranor, sounding a little exhausted now, his age showing, and using his first name for the first time, “this is a really serious problem. We’ve known each other for a few years, and I know you are very capable, even though you usually don’t like go for the big jobs like all the young Wizards who are trying to become what you are. But we need you for this. We need the best wizard we are able to send.”
As they locked eyes, both men thought of the sentence the older man had not said: ‘The best wizard we are able to spare, the situation at the borders being what it is.’
“I understand.”, said Garius finally. There was no point holding out on this. “You can count on me.”
Miranor allowed himself a tight-lipped smile. “I knew I could. Go and talk to Regina Hurmock at the Third Regiment, she can give you all the info about those missing shipments, and she’ll also arrange you to be on the next ship bound for the colonies.”
This apparently settled the matter for the Sub-Chancellor, as, while  Garius was grabbing the money-pouch from its precarious resting place, the Sub-Chancellor was already calling for his Secretary again, and by the time Garius had reached the anteroom a new attendee was already being called forth from the line of wooden chairs along the wall.
As Garius left the Union Headquarters, he was already halfway through making a list of all the things he’d need, or want, to buy with all the money in the pouch now dangling from his belt. Certainly a lot of books, for the journey. 
He smiled to himself; this would be fun.