The water in the washing trough was milky white. Each minute soap bubble an iridescent realm, fracturing and shifting through a variegated spectrum.


    A giggle and a splash next to her drew Alyce''s eye to the boy next to her. Ryles, the baron’s son and heir to House Is''et, dunk his hands into the basin and after sloshing about, drew them out, shaping a opalescent film between his index fingers and thumbs.


    At the endearing age of three, Ryles had yet to understand the line between servant and lord. His far too easy going father had allowed his son to befriend the manor’s maids, in hopes the women would share even a sliver of maternal kindness with the boy. And wholeheartedly did they share, doting, teaching, playing — even entertaining his childish likes and antics.


    As was the case when he happily wallowed in the stables for hours until the maids discovered him. Ryles loved visiting his father''s horses.


    As was this the case a moment ago, which led to Alyce fussing and imploring Ryles to change into fresh clothes while she scrubbed the the soiled ones with soft lye soap.


    A pair of hands clapped over her shoulders, startling Alyce''s focus from the stubborn stains and into a pair of bright blue eyes.


    "Have you seen the guests?" Bea asked excitedly, rocking Alyce’s weight to and fro.


    Between each sway, Alyce retorted back. “Is that where you were? Spying on the visitors while I was alone here, doing the laundry?”


    “Bad Bea,” Ryles chided with all the dignity of a three year old.


    Bea pouted, hoisting her skirts before settling on her haunches. “Oh, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”


    She rummaged within the frothy waters and lugged out a waterlogged child''s tunic. “You should have seen their clothes!” Bea continued on while scrubbing the article between her hands. “Such fine fabrics, luxurious wool and silk. And they wore such lavish material for traveling garb! Goodness, how wealthy could they be?”


    Alyce gave Bea a sidelong glance. There was no chance her golden hair friend had overlooked a richly dressed mage boy. And that look on Bea’s face, the subtle lift at the corners of her lips, the glimmer in her cornflower eyes, all but confirmed it.


    “Don’t you go causing trouble for us. Besides aren''t you —." Alyce spied Ryles watching them curiously. “Friends with the smith''s boy?”


    Bea gave her usual mischievous smile. “A girl can have more than one friend. and besides, we have an understanding.” She pounded the tunic against a batting board and began to knead the soap out of it. “Should we take a gander at the visitors, Master Ryles?”


    The boy stretched his arms upward and feigned a yawn, teasing a grin from Alyce.


    “They have a pony. A gray one,” Bea wheedled.


    Ryles'' eyes grew wide at the singular word ''pony''.


    “I want to see!”


    “Ah! So all I needed was choice words,” Bea crowed triumphantly as she bounced on to her feet. “Let’s go see that pony!”


    “You will not be shirking your duties, Bea."


    The stern voice sent the woman back on her knees to attend the washing board and basin. From the direction of the outer fields, Haddie marched toward them. Her astute eyes recognized the boy in their company, and she gave the young lord a curtsy before regarding the maids. “Alyce, our lord has guests. I''ll need you to bring refreshments to his study.”


    Alyce instantly shoved the breeches she had been laundering back into the sudsy waters. “Oh but Bea is better at selecting sweets, no?”


    “That’s right, I can do it!”


    “Bea’s too nosy for her own good,” Haddie answered, raising an apprehensive brow. “And you wouldn''t dare flirt with our lord''s guests.”


    A tug on her sleeve turned Haddie''s attention to Ryles, standing by her elbow. “Bea said they have nice clothes and a pony.”


    Haddie shot a glare in Bea’s direction, who began humming while she washed. “They are noble mages from the Blue Sanctus, Master Ryles.”


    “Nobles? Like father?”


    The query was innocent in question. Having stayed only within Neburh, Ryles had minimal interactions with those considered nobility. Even so, the ones he had met were considered lower nobles, akin to the status of merchant houses. Sanctus mages, even the ones who were not born nobles, easily outranked country barons.


    Haddie knelt down to reach the boy''s height. “You''ll need to act properly with them then, just like with your visiting aunts and uncles. Show the Sanctus mages the best of House Is’et''s manners. Which is why Alyce, with her wonderful mannerism, should hurry along and provide them refreshments.”


    As if the noble mages were present, Ryles straightened his back. “Bring them honey cakes, Alyce,” he insisted.


    Alyce smiled at the boy’s attempt to act the lordling. “Of course.”


    Haddie’s honey tea cakes were one of Ryles’ favorite desserts and the most visually impressive sweet they could bake. These rose shaped cakes had always garnered attention and brought on conversation.


    And if these mages were proper nobles, Alyce thought as she bade farewell. They would hardly glance at the maid delivering the tea and cakes.


    <hr>


    Baron Connall of House Is''et. His taste in furnishing seemed both behind the times and unsophisticated rustic. The hunting scenes on the upholstery greatly contrasted the plain white walls and ceiling, with its exposed wooden beams. The light ash wood bookshelves looked peculiar next to the oddly shaped writing desk, its legs carved into the shape of a beast''s limbs and paws. Built into the walnut top were two large drawers, the handles were in the shape of feline heads.


    A mess, Kytes mused, while he inspected the fireplace. Its mantle and header thankfully lacked any design beside the standard fire rune that was engraved at the side. With so much unnecessary details about the room, he had begun to feel uneasy. The baron was either lacking in visual discernment or those pieces were heirlooms and still kept for their functionality.


    Kytes placed his hand on the fireside rune. There was no magic left in it, and yet —


    There was a fire blazing within its box, though not a spelled fire. Unlike the rune sustained ones, that kept fires burning without danger to its residents and home, this would need to be put out and rebuilt again later on.


    “I am most fortunate to have employed people, who can do things the old way."


    Kytes turned to face a homely looking man, setting a tall herding stick by the door. Baron Connall did not don typical aristocratic garb but instead wore weathered but durable clothes. A vest over a long tunic, sturdy trousers and muddy boots, the man looked as if he had just returned from herding sheep. His receding hair was hidden by his fine woolen cap, but Kytes still spied a generous amount of light brown hair poking out from the sides.


    The man''s naturally downturned eyes were kind and when he smiled, great craters formed around the edges of his mouth. He had a sparse beard and a wide nose, both which added to Baron Connall’s pastoral aesthetic. In this room of gaudy furnishing, he looked severely out of place.


    “I fear I have kept you waiting for much too long, that your teacher had thought to come fetch me. My apologies, Esphyr Kytes,” Connall continued, looking back at Hollis. who was meticulously checking the underside of her boots.


    The mage woman''s eyes flitted upward, her mouth dipped into a grimace. "I found Baron Connall in the field with his sheep, hound, and a gaggle of villagers. A lord, who allows an audience in the middle of a pasture. If the capital knew of this, imagine the dismay and uproar.”


    “They hadn''t deigned to check on me yet and thus, I will continue to govern as I see fit,” the baron responded pleasantly. “My priority is to my people and they are displeased. Whether it be in the village or field, I will hear their grievances.”


    Kytes immediately grinned before meekly ducking his head down when Hollis directed a severe look. Having been surrounded by nobles his entire life and seen all shows of the higher class flaunting their status, here was a soul that thought more for his people. Though as a Sanctus representative, he had to mind revealing his opinion.


    Noticing the exchange, Connall smiled warmly at the boy. “Esphyr Kytes, your teacher tells me that you are a runic mage with a resonance with fire. How much do you know of service contracts pertaining to fire runes?”


    The young mage straightened his back, his pride in his education apparent. “I can read and draft contracts, my lord. As well as create binding clauses that ensure the contract remains true until the work is completed.”


    “Then you can detect if there is no binding clause in effect.”


    Kytes frowned. “Why would a contract be without the spell?”


    Connall grunted and brought out a sheaf of orderly documents from behind his desk. "Just like my home, the fire runes in the town have expired, much sooner than I expected. It has been less than six months since I ordered them renewed by the closest Chapel."


    The documents handed to Kytes were, by all accounts, parchments, recorded words with long dried ink. But just like the fire atop the hearth, he could not detect even a fragment of spellwork within these verbacious paragraphs. The detailing of the date, the servicing mage''s name, the Chapel that sent them, and the amount paid. But as long winded as further notes of the number of runes, their location, all were vague or missing.


    Every mage in the realm was associated with a Sanctus or Chapel. The most talented and esteemed mages would become Sanctus mages and be paid handsomely for serving the king and wealthy. While the vast majority of magic users would either become merchants, who sold simple talismans, or continue to work for a Chapel.


    If an individual remained with a Chapel, their responsibilities would cover educating local mage children, or traveling to nearby towns, providing blessings or renewing old runes. Such tasks still provided a generous livelihood for Chapel mages, enough that they could live comfortably. And the amount of power used to renew runes, for the minimum of three years, was hardly draining.


    Was the mage incapable or —


    Suspicion gnawed at him as Kytes read the documents over again. The county of Neburh, with its vast agricultural fields and orchards, was fairly secluded and a cumbersome journey for most Chapels. And hence the baron could only rely on the closest Chapel, located at its western borders, to replenish these runes.


    Quiet fury boiled in his chest. Drafting a contract without an active binding spell meant doing much less than promised would never be punished. And any dispute later would never matter, for who would pay mind to a lowly baron?


    “It is as you see it, Esphyr Kytes.”


    The young Sanctus mage looked up. Connall was not blind to the truth of the situation, nor was he seeking an explanation.


    “I do not expect the Blue Sanctus would care very much for a dispute between an agricultural barony and a local Chapel, but perhaps, if you might deliver the letter back to your superiors, they might convince a different Chapel to send a mage to fulfill the rest of the contract.”


    How long would that take? Kytes frantically began to calculate an estimated time. Their own investigation here would take at least a week, then there was the journey back, and even upon delivery, the Sanctus would need more time to look into the matter.


    But he was here. A fire mage. And already at Neburh.


    “Perhaps I may be of assistance,” Kytes began to say.


    The baron raised a halting hand. “I thank you for the offer, but I cannot afford a Sanctus mage''s service. Hence why I rely on the local Chapels.”


    The man''s words resurfaced an all too recent memory. The girl with red hair and bluish gray eyes, who shoved him away, looking absolutely repulsed. It had stung when she spoken her reason to reject his aid. And both rationales echoed the other.


    Connall offered Kytes a kind smile. “You have confirmed my suspicion that there was no binding spell to fulfill the contract from both sides. That is already of great help. If you could send this letter and share my qualms with your superiors, that would be enough. My people and I can manage for a while longer.”


    "It will take more than a little while," Kytes tried explaining patiently. "You needn’t pay the Sanctus, my lord. It is my own willingness…”


    “You truly are a kind lad, but it is a matter of principle, Esphyr Kytes. The Chapel was dishonest and did not fulfill their part of their contract. It is my duty to notify the Blue Sanctus. If I take your offer, the Sanctus would think this resolved, the Chapel will not know what they have done wrong and will continue to deceive other local counties and villages.” Connall nodded at Hollis, who had come to stand by her student. “You will agree, Esphyr Hollis?”


    “As painful as it is to admit it, yes. That is the proper way of doing things. Although…” The woman gave Kytes a wink, provoking him to regard her back with his own serious scrutiny. Hollis had a way of finding loopholes. “An interesting thing happened on our way up here, my lord.”


    Soft shushing footsteps were heard scurrying into the study and to Kytes’ left, a plate of teacakes was set on the table. The baron murmured his thanks before turning his attention back to Hollis.


    “Interesting?”


    “Yes. On our way through the orchards, our poor pony was overcome by thirst and had refused to take another step. Luckily for us, a young woman, dressed just like your maid here, happened to pass us by and so kindly offered our mare water.”


    A glass clacked far too loudly against the tabletop and Kytes looked at the individual next to him. Auburn hair, blue gray eyes, keen facial features. Feigning unfamiliarity, Kytes turned away to inspect the ceiling.


    “As mages, we honor the act of good deeds done for us." Hollis leaned over the plate, taking great effort to select a cake.


    “Esphyr Hollis, I’m afraid giving water to a horse does not surmount to a rune''s renewal.” The baron gestured at an empty spot on his desk. “You may leave the water pitcher here, Alyce.”


    “Is it not? For Kytes and I both tried wheedling the pony to walk, and she still would not obey the will of two Sanctus mages. But like magic, the pony dutifully accompanied us here after being given water.” Hollis slid a cup underneath the pitcher and helped herself to a generous amount of water. "I heard your villagers lamenting about ineffective runes and Kytes saw the Chapel''s contract. As mages, it is deeply frustrating to be perceived so poorly. So allow us make things right, that we might remedy the perception your people have…of our kind."


    Connall frowned at the suggestion then looked at his maid, who appeared uncomfortable between his two guests.


    As a child, Alyce was quite beloved by his late wife. A willing girl who learned quickly and became a trusted and reliable servant. She remained capable even on the occasions when the manor''s runes ceased to function properly and most likely, the one summoned to start the fire in this very room.


    He sighed. A hardworking servant with more tasks now because of this inconvenience.


    “Alyce, how many fires have you started by hand today?”


    Kytes startled, looking toward the still bowed woman. “By hand?”


    The baron smiled upon hearing the genuine surprise in the Sanctus mage’s voice. “Yes, she is quite skilled with the archaic ways of doing things. Laundering, drying clothes, starting fires, everything we would believe inconvenient and she has never complained. Alyce?”


    “Seven, my lord. The kitchen, baths, study, bedrooms, and the manor’s chapel,” the maid answered clearly.


    “More work for you when there is much to be done.” He waved a hand toward Kytes. “I retract my previous statement, I would be grateful for your assistance. If you would only supply the fire runes with the amount that was unfulfilled, that would be enough. No more than that.” He looked back at the maid. “Alyce, you are quite familiar with the location of our runes. Please accompany him to the castle town tomorrow so he can renew the communal runes.”


    The young woman yanked her head up, mouth agape as if she wished to protest.


    “The townsfolk and the girls will be relieved to know their runes will be working sooner than expected,” Connall reminded Alyce gently.


    Her mouth latched closed and she sunk into a curtsy. “Yes, my lord,” she relented then meekly excused herself.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    “Alyce has always been a bit wary of magic,” Connall told his guests once the door shut closed. “Like many residents in Neburh, the only mages she’s encountered are those from the local Chapel and they have left a poor impression.”


    Hollis swirled the water against the walls of her cup. “Beside the Chapel closest to your borders, how often do you interact with the villages outside of Neburh?”


    The baron frowned at the sudden shift in topic. "I have thought it curious why Sanctus mages would suddenly visit my home.” His eyes darted between the two before him. “It''s been years since my own personal interaction with them, but to my knowledge, the outer farms trade for lumber with the little village of Scaidun during the cooler seasons.”


    Kytes recalled seeing distant singular housing when they crossed Neburh''s borders. He sighed deeply. Sooner or later, those farmers will wonder what happened to their seasonal trading partner. Scaidun, the Decayed village he had bound days ago, was a closer neighbor than the castle town.


    Connall braced his hands on the table. “Has something happened?”


    “You might wish to send a message to those residents. Request them not to approach Scaidun for the time being,” Hollis responded gravely. "The people there are no more. Their rotted bodies have been cremated, but their souls are --- still there."


    The baron shut his eyes, prominent wrinkles grew at his brows. "The Decay then,” he reluctantly affirmed. “Scaidun was not under Is’et’s protection, but had they needed assistance —”


    The grief etched on the man''s face was abundantly clear to Kytes and the young man looked away, riddled with guilt. He had assumed a baron would at least be conceited enough to act as most nobles do. But here was a man with outdated and gaudy, but still functional furnishing. His staff served the simplest cakes that would have been considered rustic at Thalhurst’s tea houses. Any luxury he could have procured for himself, Connall saved for Neburh’s coffers and his people. And the man still wondered if he could have helped another territory''s people?


    It is sheer luck then that Neburh had remained untouched by the plaguing Decay, Kytes thought. Baron Connall could not afford paying a mage to protect his people, much less pay for powerful new runes, legal or illicit.


    Hollis was turning the cup in her hands, as if entranced by the water within. After a moment, she poured water into the remaining two cups and offered them to Connall and Kytes. “Precautionary actions should be considered, my lord. And with luck, never needed. After all, Neburh has stayed safe for so long, has it not?"


    Connall sighed while taking a sip from his vessel. "I lack your optimism. If the Decay has taken my neighbor, it is at my doorstep. And what funds do I have to prevent a plague such as this? It is only a matter of time, Esphyr Hollis."


    Kytes lifted the cup, taking precaution to analyze the water within. When the charmed cuff on his ear did not warm, he knew it was safe to drink. Although…


    He glanced at Hollis, who was readjusting her spectacles. But underneath her hand, she hid a smile. Curious as to what his teacher discovered, Kytes willingly took a sip.


    The water that ran through the holy Sancti and wealthier cities were considered the most pure. Even the water in most of the nation’s villages were spelled to prevent contamination and diseases. But this —


    Within seconds, he was staring down at an empty cup. He had drained it so quickly, partly because of thirst, and partly because the fire within him clamored for it. His flames had greedily devoured it, kindled a mote brighter by the water’s blessing.


    He set the cup down, silently shushing his powers to settle as he pondered over the circumstance. A rural agricultural county in the middle of nowhere had water more pure, more invigorating, than that of the Thalhurst, the western holy city?


    "And yet it has not gone through it," Hollis said, giving her student a knowing smile. "As if being warded off by your county''s orchards and lush hills.”


    <hr>


    Several large pots clattered noisily across the worktable, startling Alyce from her meticulously organized piles of plump elderberries and rotund sloe berries. Since late summer, every night, House Is''et''s three maids busied themselves with making fruit preserves, pickling vegetables, and curing meat. These chores were done in preparation for autumn''s end and winter''s frigid arrival, when fresh produce would be lean to find and the preserved vittles would be essential for flavoring blander fare.


    "You''re so lucky," Bea huffed, heaving a large sack of sugar next to the pots. Freed from her burden, she heaved herself over the bench and sidled into Alyce''s shoulder. “What I would give to walk about with a handsome mage and not have to attend to the same old everyday routine.”


    Alyce playfully shoved the dramatic maid. “Would you like to trade with me then?”


    “Absolutely!”


    “Absolutely not.” Wagging a ladle swathed in sticky sugar at them, Haddie glowered over a boiling pot of hot elderberry jam. Her dark hair was pulled under a linen head cloth, her forehead dripping with sweat from toiling over the steaming preserves. “We need the fire runes renewed as soon as possible, and you, Bea, would most certainly try to delay the poor boy.”


    Bea sniffed indignantly. “I would never!"


    Haddie made a rude sound before impatiently pointing her ladle at the pots. “Besides a few coins, there’s nothing to gain from tangling with a mage. They travel on behest of the king and nobles, and would never settle down, so don’t you try. You’ll be left disappointed.” She looked down her long nose to propel Bea onto the next step, mashing the berries in the cooking vessels. “They’re the type that want to leave a legacy on the world. Unless you can provide the favors they want, titles, rapport, introductions to wealthier nobles, marriage partners, anything to further their influence, they’ll sooner forget you the moment you’re away from sight.”


    “I suppose that would be troubling.” Bea sighed loudly. “I don’t like being forgotten by the lads.”


    Alyce was watching Bea mash the elderberries when she felt a pair of eyes on her. She glared back at Haddie.


    “I''m only guiding him to where the runes are. I am not silly enough to tangle with a mage, especially not him,” Alyce replied stiffly. “I thought mages chanted spells and what not, but he made markings on his hand in order to do magic!”


    Haddie raised a hand to her chin. “And he is the one renewing our runes? Thyis knows our lord absolutely cannot afford a runic mage, if that is what the lad is.”


    “Runic mage?” The word wasn’t entirely foreign to Alyce. They were the only ones allowed to forge new runes, but did these mages often renew engraved inscriptions? “How much is it for a mage like that to renew runes?"


    Haddie held up one finger. “A Chapel mage would take one gold per rune. A Sanctus mage —” She lifted two additional fingers.


    Three gold per rune? Alyce scoffed in surprise. Just renewing the manor runes alone was more than what she made in five years. And yet, the runic mage had said he would not accept payment. What madness was that?


    “Then the runic mages. Any child with that gift is immediately sent to the Blue Sanctus and trained. With such investment in their talents, and also how only a few great ones are produced each year, the king has Sanctus runic mage costing ten gold per rune.”


    “Ten gold!” Alyce and Bea cried.


    A knock on the kitchen door caused the women to jump. Standing by its frame was the same boy they had been gossiping about. With the way he scowled, she was certain the mage heard everything.


    “Esphyr Kytes,” Haddie acknowledged him loudly, lowering her ladle back into the simmering concoction. “What brings you here?”


    The muscles at his jaw tensed. “May I speak to Colleen Alyce?” he finally asked, politely using the phrase for a young woman. “She is to show me the runes tomorrow and I wish to know when we are to begin.”


    “Of course.” Haddie looked pointedly in Alyce''s direction and jerked her chin. “It’ll be more comfortable to speak outside in the cooler air that is not the kitchens.”


    Alyce reluctantly rose, but not quickly enough for Bea, who playfully smacked her on the rump. With a hiss and a glare that promised trouble, Alyce stumbled over her seat and out the door.


    As they navigated the corridor, she prayed that he, like most mages, had forgotten her face and their meeting that morning. She was considered a lowly commoner afterall, a servant. And Haddie was right; most nobles found conversing with peasants unnecessary. Alyce was sure this mage boy was the same as his peers.


    The manor''s courtyard was considered a fairly public space and a safe location for two strangers to hold a conversation. Though night had fallen, and most of the outdoors covered in pitch black, the side church had a few candles lit from within. Passing through the stained glass mural, the candlelight illuminated the square in colorful prismed light illuminated the square.


    Like a rainbow after a rain or the far northern lights in the skies. How fortunate we are to see this every night, Baroness Síle once told her when they did their late night walks.


    Alyce’s steps faltered. Both were things that Síle once fervently wished she could see.


    “Colleen Alyce, I believe this is yours.”


    She thrust away from her thoughts, bringing herself to look at the hand Kytes held out. In his palm was a flat speckled stone with a glowing engraved rune. It looked terribly similar if not identical to the same warming stone she had dropped.


    “The power within the rune had long faded so I granted it anew.”


    His words grounded her instantly. “Esphyr Kytes,” Alyce said, willing herself to speak respectfully. “I thought I made it clear, I am a maid. I cannot afford this.”


    Deep lines formed above his brows. “But it is yours," he insisted. “You dropped it when you were assisting us, I am returning it to you.”


    “Esphyr Kytes.” She repeated. “It is cheaper for me to purchase a new warming stone than to have a runic mage renew an old one.”


    “I am not expecting payment. Such things like this pose no difficulty for me.” His eyes narrowed when he saw she made no movement to accept his proposal. “I was not deaf to what you were speaking of earlier. The astronomical price the King and Sancti saw fit to mandate, just to employ a runic mage.” Kytes inhaled sharply. “But I thought you heard the agreement in terms of the runes renewal. I will only fulfill what was not honored. And this -- this is different. This is my thanks to you for helping Mouse.”


    He tried to offer the stone again, but Alyce''s feet brought her under the church''s prismatic windows. The textured ruby glass that belonged to a certain nymph washed the mage in crimson. On any other occasion, she would have found this ironic, considering that the hue was that of a fire spirit.


    Unlike Alyce, Kytes did not take notice of the convenient lighting. “Why is it that the people here are so disinclined to accept aid?”


    “It is a matter of principle.”


    “Principle?” He repeated, his tone unfeeling.


    “You are meant to create spells for great nobles and kings; producing greater magic than any normal mage. It is they who can pay you for your time and talents. But I am a maid, who works for a lower baron. There is nothing I can pay you with,” she responded firmly. “It is as my lord says, ‘providing water for a pony is not the same as providing magic to a rune —.”


    “Have you ever considered I was only trying to be nice?” he sharply interjected. "Mouse made a mess of your dress, I had meant to dry it. You dropped your stone and since it wasn’t working, I decided to fix it. I had no other agenda. Why is it that everyone assumes that I want something more?!”


    Whatever etiquette lessons the Blue Sanctus had poured into his education, it was becoming lost in his temper.


    “The Chapel mage was lazy and clearly, a cheat. He made a mess of the contract and I wanted to remedy it. Have it done right! You speak of principles, then I shall speak mine! Magic is to help people, I could care less of the coin it provides! I have studied the most difficult of spells to appeal to the Sanctus, so that I might travel outside the holy city. But I have practiced hundreds more that are so — simple — that have no proper pricing attached, yet when I try to help others using those, I get scolded as if I’m in the wrong!”


    He jerked his head to the side, breathing harshly as he bolted shut his mouth. It was unbecoming of him to have unearthed his personal grievances to a stranger. Had any Sanctus mage, or even Hollis, heard his rant, they would have reprimanded him.


    “Simple for you.”


    He glanced at the maid cast in azure luminance. Oddly enough, she did not seem frightened or appalled. Instead she looked fixedly at him, contemplating but with a tinge of curiosity.


    “The simple spells you do for not even a copper coin," Alyce told him. "Is what a Chapel mage would have charged for a single silver.”


    “I suppose even if I was to put a price to those simple spells, they would still cost much less than a silver.” His eyes dropped to her clasped hands. "Do you charge your lord when he asks you to make fire?"


    Shaking her head, Alyce answered. "He pays me to look after his home and family. Making a fire by hand with flint and steel is just one of my personal interests that comes into play when necessary. It’s not the same as magic.”


    "But isn''t it?"


    She blinked at him, unsure why his eyes glimmered with excitement.


    "Fire in its most natural state is a reaction, not an element. It''s a combination of air, heat, and a fuel source, like earth. What I have, what many fire mages have, is different from you can create. I was bestowed a sacred core from the Lampades, but you..." There was admiration in the way Kytes looked at her as if she had discovered something extraordinary. "You create it by melding it all together, from nature."


    Alyce scoffed. "Surely you can do the same --."


    "No, not like you." His utterance was quiet, an undeniably envious whisper that surprised her. "I''ve read about it in books, but I''ve never even seen it firsthand. As students, we''re taught the most efficient ways to create fire; drawing it from within ourselves or borrowing Lampades’ flames; no dust, no mess. So no...I''ve never been taught."


    Alyce’s eyes widened. Though she knew about magic''s convenience, she had never wondered if the mages themselves knew how to work without their gifts. Apparently not.


    For a moment, Alyce felt fortunate, empowered by her knowledge over the Sanctus mage, before she quickly stamped it out from mind. She was a maid, a commoner, she hardly had any status. And he was a noble. He naturally had power, magically and socially, at least one of his own making.


    She shuddered, briskly running her hands over her arms, before noticing Kytes watching her. This time though, he made no mention of the heating stone, choosing to bow his head to disguise his hesitation.


    The weather will only get cooler with Samhain fast approaching and I’ll regret not having a heat source on hand before long.


    Reluctantly, she cleared her throat.


    "The heating stone, could I...trade you knowledge for it?"


    A single brow arched and Kytes tilted his head to a shoulder. "Oh?"


    "I can teach you how to make fire the archaic way," Alyce explained. "Perhaps while we''re visiting and renewing the expired runes."


    For a moment, she worried that her suggestion might enrage him. Some nobles took offense easily, even to offerings that had no malicious intent. Connall''s aunt was such an individual and whenever she visited the manor, the elderly woman would smother Ryles with affection and suffocate the maids with oppressive regard.


    An eager smile dissipated her worries. “You would be willing to teach me?" Kytes asked.


    "I don''t see why not.” Recalling her own fruitless efforts to teach Bea, Alyce continued. “Although I cannot speak how well I can teach, I’ve tried but to ... varying degrees of success. But if you''re willing…"


    Kytes reached forward and dropped the warming stone into her hand. "I won’t judge, even if I fail in all my attempts while learning." He grinned. "I promise to be the most diligent student you''ve ever have."


    Alyce nearly dropped the stone, delicious warmth fleeting up her arm. She did not recall it ever feeling this warm before nor the rune shining so bright.


    Was a flint and steel lesson worth such a spell? It''s renewed but far more than it had been in the past! Alyce couldn’t decide, but she had come to suspect that Kytes had a poor concept of what his powers meant for those who could not afford it in coin.


    She pulled her hand back, closing her fingers over the stone. "It''s only fire, it''s simple. You needn''t make it sound more than it is."


    "Simple for you."


    Alyce looked up in time to catch the twinkle in his eyes, his mouth crinkling at the corners.


    So he had some play in him, she realized, flustered. "Well, shall we meet tomorrow morning then?"


    He bowed, not deeply enough to be mocking, but at an angle that remained genuinely respectful. “Until then.”


    As was proper, Alyce waited for him to return indoors first. Once the door was closed, Alyce lifted herself out of her curtsy.


    Ruby glimmered at the edge of her vision and she angled her head to look at the stained glass mural. As beautiful as it was, she found it more haunting than alluring at night. Especially the two fire nymphs with garnet eyes.


    "I suppose some of your followers are deserving of your gift," she muttered, her eyes hovered to the torch one of the Lampades carried. "I hope."


    As if the nymphs of fire heard her, she thought the stone in her hand grew warmer. Her fingers shrank back, startled by the shocking pulse, but in closer inspection, the stone looked no different.


    For the colder mornings to come, she would be thankful the warming stone was returned to her.


    <hr>


    Thank goodness the room did not have those horrible animal motifs. That was the first thought Kytes had before he realized it and scolded himself. After weeks of sleeping outdoors, he should be grateful for a fresh bed, a sturdy roof above, and at fine last, respite.


    Although, it had been that long since I had a childish complaint, he thought, amused.


    He walked in, setting his traveling packs by the door. The dying embers provided dim illumination, but within the remaining light he could see a sizable bed, a rustic wardrobe and desk, and in the corner, a screen which presumably hid the bath behind it. The singular window shared a view of the stables, where their trusty pony, Mouse, was housed. After spending so much time on the road with the mare, Kytes had felt a pang of guilt when he left Mouse to the manor''s stable hand. Though most likely, she would be groomed, fed, and treated very well, far better than his own care.


    Rubbing his eyes, Kytes wandered to the fireplace and inspected the hearth rune. Like the one in the study, no ounce of power remained in it.


    Steady rhythmic heels clicked against the wooden flooring and stopped outside his still opened door.


    Hollis sighed, leaning her weight against the door frame. “Hardly six months and expired runes, did that Chapel mage sneeze on them and call it a day?” She peered into the room and adjusted her spectacles. “You do not mean to renew that tonight.”


    Kytes straightened, rolling his shoulders back. “Only checking the runes’ condition before tomorrow.” He walked past her and into the neighboring room across the hall. Like his own, the fire in her sleeping quarters had reduced to embers.


    “You might fool most, but not me, student of mine. Thyis and I both know what you''re up to.” She called after him. “The maid''s warming stone is a small spell compared to a hearth’s and I only agreed to let you renew the runes after you rest. Do not—”


    Fire bloomed into life, rekindled from the embers upon the hearth and flourished in full. The flames’ light flooded the room in warm amber.


    At the same time, Kytes’ vision blurred and he swayed before steadying himself against the wall.


    Strong hands gripped his shoulders and steered him to sit on a chair.


    “That was foolish. Has doing big magicks made you full of yourself?” Hollis scolded.


    She filled an empty cup with water and pressed it into his hands. As he drank, she produced a crinkled wrapping from her side purse. The substance in the parcel was a slab of lumpy pine nuts encrusted within a layer of sugared ginger.


    Using a decent amount of force, Hollis broke off a small piece and gave it to her student. “Eat, now.”


    “I had to renew the runes anyway,” he pointed out, shoving the confection into his mouth. His teeth clacked against what felt like granite and he withdrew into concentrated silence.


    Hollis rapped her knuckles against his knee. “And I expect you to heed my warnings, especially when I am responsible for your wellbeing.”


    Silently, he tackled the hardened sweet. It was only when the sickly sugar had begun to dissolve and he could finally chew through the toffee, albeit very, very slowly, that the dizzy spell also began to subside. The Sanctus provided traveling mages this confection, only meant to be consumed when magic’s fatigue began to exert its toll on the mage''s body. Each crumb, from the encrusted seed to the crystalline sugar, was filled with renewal magic, blessed by the culinary mages, who had earthen alignments. Somehow, they ensured the unassuming sweet could keep well for several seasons.


    “Months of binding ghosts within Decayed villages. Warding our camp with deterrent and protective charms every night. Those are high level spells, Kytes, and we haven''t properly slept in weeks. You are tired. More than I realized. And I should have stopped you from offering aid. It was my mistake to be blinded by my own frustration with those Chapel mages.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Baron Connall will understand if you rest tomorrow. Neburh''s runes can wait.”


    Kytes’ eyes flicked up and he hastily swallowed the remaining sweet. “Renewing a hearth rune is simple. A night''s respite and I''ll be ready,” he argued. “I do not want to lose whatever trust we managed to have built with the baron…”


    “And would fainting on the spot improve his impression of our kind?” Hollis demanded, removing her hand.


    “Then I won''t faint. I will limit myself to a select few and take upon more later on,” her student hurriedly promised. “I do not believe it is only the baron who harbors skepticism about mages. And to improve that perception, I''ve already made promises for the morrow.”


    “Kytes.”


    The younger mage did not balk at her tone. “Only the runes that are crucial to the manor’s workings. No one would cast blame if I at least renewed a few.”


    Hollis inhaled deeply, in a manner that Kytes recognized. She was worried for him and yet, she was reminding herself to only advise and not exercise her authority as his teacher to force him to obey. It was a trait that Kytes admired and why he respected his teacher greatly. Most teachers made sure their students complied with what the adults thought best.


    “The payn.” She handed the remaining confection in its wrapping to him. “You are to take a small amount should you become too weary. With a night''s rest and the amount you ate, your magic should be restored enough for only renewals, but I will not be there to supervise if you do extra. Therefore, take it, just in case.”


    He gratefully accepted it and got to his feet. Thanks to the honeyed supplement, Kytes was able to decline Hollis’ efforts to help him and walk out of her quarters.


    “It is difficult to change the minds of others with one good deed, Kytes,” she told him when he had one hand on the door''s knob. “It was not us who cheated them.”


    “But to others outside mage society, we are one of the same,” he argued. “I cannot stand by and allow that.”


    “And now I wonder how much of your exhaustion comes from self righteousness or silly mage pride,” she said pointedly. “It is just how things are. There are good mages but there are more mediocre and lazy ones. And it is the latter two most civilians deal with. You are talented for your age but you are foolish to care so much.” Hollis thumped the frame of her door with a fist. “We have more important things to attend to, and it is not renewing wards. Do not overexert yourself just for them. Do only what you are able. Understand?”


    Kytes gave her a polite bow in answer then bade her good night. When his door was finally closed, he reached up to unfasten his cloak and draped it over a nearby chair. As he pulled off his coat, his eyes wandered to the red embroidery, which graced the edges of his cloak, the indicative symbols that represented the nature of his magic. A runic mage blessed with fire.


    Simpler magicks like renewing fire wards was not a good use of his energy when any common mage could achieve it. Not when there are the dead to keep under lock.


    He meant to unbutton his shirt''s collar next, but the irritability he had been holding back broke. Wringing his hands through his hair, Kytes paced.


    It''s simple enough and I can do it well. I''ll just do what I can, Kytes chided. Then when all this is done and we''ve returned home, perhaps the Sanctus should re-evaluate the Chapels’ work ethics. That''ll improve things for the people.