《Singularly Perceived》


 Chapter 1

    A fortune needs fashioning, so I race to stitch the seam. The operation tempers my mind in stride. Calling it a dream is asinine enough to illicit opium illusions as a complimentary comparison. A breeze sings past my ears, rhythm keeping close to our pounding feet. Cheers trickle into the discordant cacophony. I need resources and skill to accomplish¡ª The onlookers¡¯ slapping hands mount as we crest the willow''s mound, switching pace to accommodate even ground.


    We¡¯d reach the Citadel alongside thousands of people fighting for one hundred positions in a Penntry officer program. How can I stand out? Life pumps through me, fueling my body. Could I succeed? My friend Jerduan trembles the ground behind me with his pursuit.


    Azure eyes shine out under shoulder-length black hair perpetuating in a messy bun. Jer¡¯s face accommodates a duel between cheekbones and chin that cuts up his face in sharp lines. All the while, an abashedly broken nose lends its charm to the mix. Those features are less appealing when rout-red or in a drench of sweat.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡ª Beat¡ª You¡ª Vesh, ¡± Jer huffs between puffs.


    ¡°Yes, you seem to have it done up quite handily.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡ª start¡ª Drev¡ª ald¡ª lick¡ª er,¡± Jer sputters.


    ¡°Did you say Drevald? Nasty business those, only a real problem in the south.¡±


    ¡°Eat¡ª shit¡ª die¡ª¡± Jer coughs out each word with force enough to shake his whole frame. It is a wonder he is still upright.


    ¡°You have such a melancholy outlook. I don''t think it is optimistic to add fuck in there.¡±


    Indiscernible gargling comes from the tower of relentlessness trying to keep up with me. In our younger years, we were well-matched in most areas. However, as we grew, our proclivities diverged, turning these into exercises of bravado instead of actual conditioning, at least for the inclined party. Braggadocio of such magnitudes places us in this foot race, trampling daisies before their bloom, dislodging fungi, and squashing bugs in our scramble up the mound. Such is life, as my friend Jer now says, ¡®Eat, shit, die,¡¯ words to live by.


    ¡°Though I¡¯d love to hear more meta-analyses on the experience of being, I must be going. A lot of things need doing today. I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    After my ado, I dig my toes in candidly, peeling far ahead of him before passing the crowd. I don''t stop when I reach them. I wave an appreciation of their tending toward my friend¡¯s ego.


    ¡®Crowd¡¯ is generous, a smattering of children with nothing to do and a few people who, I assume, Jer wanted to impress. Judging from the look on his face as he stumbles the last few steps before falling to the ground, the showing is not his best.


    I don''t stop when I reach the edge of the town. Alternating between paces, each until I am ready for the other, pushing my endurance. Some startle, but only at the abruptness of my passing. I don¡¯t stop when I reach the edge of town, cutting through Holia¡¯s backyard and running down the embankment that holds my village aloft. She bakes the best bread I''ve ever eaten. Here is another reason to stay and to go. It is flaky, but is it the best?


    My cottage overlooks the ridge above. The one story doesn¡¯t have a single shiny surface. Instead, it bears a standard wherein the quality of the repair supersedes the material, though there are still a few memorable marks. I race the sun up the switchback to spot my father gathering tools for the impending labors. The stiffness of the morning distinguishes my exhalations¡ª better get out before the sun. I finally stop at the top of the ridge to catch my breath. My mound is a protruding boulder that makes for a personal oasis. I suspect this is why my father bought the land with the gold he gained outside this life.


    Winter white willows undulate for miles. The smaller ones stay a ways off, while some inevitably grow too close and fuse to reach further for the coalition. My father joins my inhalation of air off waves of black reed grass. Furthermore, wind crashes upon the willows. These Willows keep to their convictions while their drooping canopies relent a sway. Here is a reason to stay, and here is a reason to go. Nostalgia contends preferential contentment. On the other side, there is a prospect of standing in more places, on more mounds, with more beauty.


    ¡°Better get out before the sun,¡± my father repeats his mantra.


    ¡°Learned from the best,¡± I relent.


    ¡°How was the race?¡± He inquires with a proffered hoe.


    I glance at my father, who is average height and has a wiry frame like mine. His short black hair curls a sun-dried face. Intricate tattoos stretch the length of his entire body in a lattice of shapes, further defining every muscle. His tattoos stop in a frame around his face, accentuating its texture.


    ¡°Might have pushed him too far. I fear he might pay me back in kind.¡± I laugh the last bit as I accept the tool.


    ¡°Well, most say he pays his debts.¡±


    ¡°Most?¡±


    ¡°You hadn''t heard?¡±


    ¡°Or I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re referring to?¡±


    ¡°Knowledgeable people are often unhappy.¡±


    ¡°People are unhappy.¡±


    ¡°Right... I heard he is planning on entering the Vying.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Someone might consider that he isn¡¯t going alone.¡± My father pushes, slowing his work to observe me.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°You know where I stand on this. I will choose tomorrow,¡± I refuse, continuing without returning the tension.


    ¡°Do you know where you stand? Because the late-night training would surmise your decision-¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Then explain to me how you expect to accomplish anything?¡± He shouts, throwing his hoe to the ground.


    ¡°I have accomplished something, Father, something good. Whatever I choose. Tell me you doubt my ability to do the right thing regardless.¡±


    ¡°And what will happen once you face a seer? You will not make it to the mines.¡±


    ¡°I will serve my time.¡±


    ¡°Ha. Child¡ª You don¡¯t know what you are talking about.¡±


    ¡°Then tell me. Do you want to talk about this? Then tell me the truth about it, about her-¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t...¡±


    ¡°We both know that. People are unhappy. Let them pursue what makes them happy.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡ª Well¡­¡± my father relents.


    ¡°I love you, Father.¡±


    ¡°I love you. I wish I could show you the consequences of your decision.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t made a decision yet.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he mutters.


    We sweat our worries on the field, flipping the soil with fertilizer for plowing furrows. At noon, we break for a lunch of squash with roasted broccoli, sunflower parmesan, and soft pumpernickel rolls. My father maintains a quiet countenance, resigning to an outcome that is looking certain. Later, after finishing, I run into town to meet Jer. The sun recedes the ridge before I can make it to town.


    Lit by the only glow gem, between the chapel and Balduans¡¯s shop, is a patch of dirt trampled often enough by our training that neither Balduan nor the ground are willing to grow anything. The street is clear, except for a child singing a pneumonic device for months. People retire early to enjoy the death of winter with the ones they love.


    ¡°Spart, Yuanz, Bach, Lak, Singh, Wat, Guis,¡± they call out each in an old tune, ¡°Chev, Baldi, Wall, I think that¡¯s all,¡± they finish, staring up again at the top as the voice carries from the square.


    ¡°I am going to get you, Vesh,¡± Jer challenges.


    ¡°This whole coming on to me thing gets less and less appealing,¡± I return.


    ¡°Are you going to keep moving your mouth or get your ass kicked?¡±


    ¡°Blessed with choices, who are we kidding? I¡¯ll have a plate of each.¡±


    ¡°Your eyes are always bigger.¡± Jer barks out, tossing me my training swords.


    ¡°This is nice. Did you polish it?¡±


    ¡°Shut up and raise your wood lover.¡±


    I erect my wooden rapiers, offering a loose salute as Jer lifts his wooden greatsword for a probing swing. The gesture is a usual start, as we know the other''s styles. The salute avoids half the blow as I repel the remainder with a crossed guard. My center twists with the maneuver before my stance solidifies to leverage a darting rapier. Jer lets the momentum of his sword pull him away from my attack. I jump on the shift with several quick stabs.


    Jer isn''t easy; he forces the prod aside and steps into my advance. Thoughtfully, he raises an elbow to greet my face as the two are well acquainted. In my staggering retreat, blood spurts from my nose, and swelling tenderizes my left eye. Jer is grinning with a come-hither lash flutter and a wide stance, emphasizing his musculature unnecessarily. I smile, and blood drips down my chin as I laugh.


    Attempting to pull out a committed movement to exploit Jer is like punching a cliff face. Keen on me, his deceptive swing tricks both my swords into thrusting at his chest. Before I can make contact, he flips the momentum of his sword, slamming it into my chest. I am now staring at the darkness of Destructions¡¯ sky as my breath stutters in wheezes.


    ¡°You turned on yet?¡± I grunt.


    ¡°I¡¯m not that cheap,¡± Jer retorts.


    We continue for hours, occasionally pausing until our breath rallies and the water is drunk. Jer is a better duelist, controlling the pace while rarely getting struck. We train until the moons are deep within destruction. After finishing, I wipe down my training swords before handing them to him.


    ¡°Heads up: my father asked about you.¡±


    ¡°I already got an earful from mine, but thanks.¡±


    ¡°He thinks we will go together.¡±


    ¡°All the more reason to go together,¡± Jer argues, placing the swords inside before pulling out a large case.


    ¡°Is that what I think It is?¡± I ask, setting down my water, standing up, and dusting off my pants.


    ¡°Yeah, the old man and I finally finished them. We had a few setbacks with the hilt, but I think you will like them,¡± Jer preens, presenting the contents.


    Dark metal, in the form of roots, composes the knuckle guards with soft, dark cloth grips. A quillion sits atop a thumb pad, leading into blades as dark as the sky or a reed. The metal''s gleam looks ethereal. I almost expect a ripple to mar the crystalline surface as I brush my finger against it, a tool of Creations¡¯ mercy. The metal bites my finger like ice.


    ¡°Woah,¡± I gasp in a moment of sincerity.


    ¡°Yeah, they turned out gorgeous. My old man worked harder on yours than mine. Don¡¯t forget to thank him. The mighty Baulduan will not make a fuss and appreciates the thanks.¡±


    ¡°A real teddy bear, your father.¡± I laugh, picking up both and testing their weight.


    Never before have I felt such balance moving from form to form, sword singing on top of my swing. I received forged blades; my hand enfolds the weight. I dance with the pair as they fuse to my arm. They are utterly perfect and all mine. This reason to stay relinquishes fewer counterpoints. The tools wouldn¡¯t be of use to a farmer.


    ¡°Did he let you help with these?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Some of it, forged the guards myself, with his supervision.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what metal this is?¡± I query, rubbing the blade.


    ¡°Nope. Another secret from Beyond the Wall. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡±


    ¡°Me either,¡± I whisper, drawn further into the alluring dark metal. ¡°Do you think your dad learned this technique in the northern empire?¡±


    ¡°I wish he would be honest about these things, and we didn''t have to guess at it.¡±


    ¡°I know how you feel. It''s like I don¡¯t know my father.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think they won''t tell us about what happened in the Waste?¡±


    ¡°Likely an attempt to dissuade us from leaving.¡±


    ¡°Could you imagine? Your whole life in Willows Grove?¡±


    ¡°It would be quiet.¡±


    ¡°Boring more like.¡±


    ¡°Is yours finished, too?¡± I guess, prying my eyes from the sword to see Jer half smile.


    ¡°It is; I forged the blade. We used a technique to harden the steel. It¡¯s Creationist''s steel.¡± Jer enthuses, pulling a sheathed sword nearly as tall as himself before gesturing for me to take it.


    The weapon is a complete juxtaposition to my own. Simplicity sings a falsetto of pure steel, the pommel with Jer¡¯s house crest, plain hilt, and cross-guard. The ricasso climbs up a fourth of the blade and ends in parrying hooks. The metal gleams brilliantly, appearing to shine with the superiority of its radiance.


    ¡°This is¡ª some fine work¡ª Balduan must have been¡ª proud,¡± I grunt, attempting to resheathe the unwieldy thing.


    ¡°His stare lacked disdain, almost tears of pride from him.¡±


    ¡°Impressive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you if you choose to stay.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since we''ve had this dream,¡± I revere.


    ¡°You decided then? You¡¯re going with me?¡± Jer interrogates, ready to burst.


    ¡°Do you think we can make it?¡±


    ¡°Even if neither of us makes it into the officer program,¡± he reassures.


    ¡°Why are you willing to go with me?¡±


    ¡°Hey, you are the one with cold feet. I was already planning on going without you.¡±


    ¡°Maybe to the Citadel, but not further.¡±


    ¡°So you are going?¡±


    ¡°I think I have to go. Who else would keep you in check?¡± I intone a sarcastic stoicism in league with Balduan himself.


    ¡°Hell yeah! We¡¯re going to fuck our way through Grevheim.¡± Jer laughs, lifting me with depressing ease to twirl me around.


    ¡°Alright¡ª you¡ª let''s celebrate when we get to the citadel with our heads intact.¡±


    ¡°We celebrate when we can.¡± Jer laughs, pulling a local fermentation from his sack.


    ¡°Do you think we will find her?¡± I ask, taking the first shot before handing it back.


    ¡°I think we can do anything we want.¡±


    ¡°Anything?¡±


    ¡°We have come a long way.¡±


    ¡°We still have much further to go.¡±

 Chapter 2

    We will traverse the northwestern trading road to the citadel for roughly two weeks, one extra week early in case something goes awry. Banditry is the concern. Kirk is less populous with lower densities. The first leg leading to the main trade road will be easy because animals are the only real danger.


    The next portion will be dangerous before reaching Brinx. From there, we will try to pay for our passage as extra arms in the Kandor caravan heading to the tournament. Excitement courses through my labors as I plan and re-plan every inch. Our departure comes after a never-ending wait, waking up hungover. After washing and dressing, I find my father, Jer, and Balduan redying Jer¡¯s pack outside.


    "There you are; I thought I would be lugging your mattress to the road."


    ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll notice the weight.¡± I jest,  slapping his broad shoulder as I walk up.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to make a stricter schedule going forward; the road ahead is a long one,¡± Balduan gruffs, a gruff attesting to a long life of early mornings.


    ¡°Always so serious, Balduan. Lighten up. We¡¯ve raised good people who will do the right thing,¡± My father advocates, clapping Balduan on the shoulder.


    ¡°They are making a mistake. You will both fail,¡± Balduan predicts.


    ¡°Father¡ª We will fail and succeed on our merit. Let it lay,¡± Jer speaks with similar certainty.


    There''s a moment of silence as I sling my pack and strap on my sheaths; once complete, the halted pace forces me to force the matter, ¡°So we¡¯re off then?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Before you go, we have a gift for you two. This money is all I can give you, but it should be enough to get you on your feet.¡± My father offers, handing me a small bag that clinks with coins as Balduan hands a similar bag to Jer.


    Jer and I echo gratitude. I conserve aspects of his embrace, invading my nose with sweat and dirt. The ground at our feet dampens. My Father¡¯s trembling smile burns a hole, yet I still can¡¯t see through. Goodbye, my world.


    The path to the trading road is walkable but far from well-worn due to the willow roots obstructing the way. Weeded reeds encroach on the purloined property. Several younger people are traveling with us; we know them from the village, but they are not well-known. There is the stout baker''s boy Kerten. The younger blonde seamstress''s daughter Gale. Museph, the third son of a local seasonal worker, whose siblings left to compete a year prior.


    Being ever the sardonic child, I prance abound with my new blades. My thrusts stick in trees as I parry vines, tossing quips at the trees for their lack of fortitude or asexual prowess. Grabbing my shoulder and pulling out a tone with a measure for such giddiness, Jer says, ¡°I know you¡¯re excited, but we must stay vigilant, Vesh.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Come now. We trek some run-off stream of a trail to a know-nothing village; what bandit worth their salt would hunt around this empty fish barrel?¡±


    ¡°A bandit who won''t have difficulty putting an arrow in your flat butt.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes. I must keep the sanctity of this butt pure for you, my love,¡± I quip, puckering my lips.


    ¡°You are too thin for me. How many times do I have to tell you?¡± Jer jests, pushing me ahead of him.


    ¡°So Kerten, are you going for trade skills? Are you going to enter the tournament?¡± I ask, saddling up to the born baker.


    ¡°I am thinking of entering, just for fun.¡± Kerten mumbles, playing with his fingers.


    ¡°I think you should try it. You never know what you like until you try.¡±


    ¡°We-¡± Kreten squeaks an anxious laugh, covering his mouth.


    ¡°It''s okay to be nervous.¡±


    ¡°Leave him alone,¡± Gale defends, bumping me into Jer.


    ¡°Woah there, big guy. Let''s save that heat for the butt bandits. I am just trying to lighten the mood. Kerten is nervous, so I plan to assuage him.¡± I calm Jer, along with a hand to hold him back.


    ¡°Assuage em¡¯ into ya pants,¡± Museph mutters.


    ¡°No, assuage him that the tournament is meaningless to him and that with his mother''s baking tutelage, he will make any trades professor in that field burst with envy.¡±


    ¡°I agree; most are in the tournament for fun. You shouldn¡¯t worry about it,¡± Jer confirms.


    ¡°Well, I am worried about the entrance exams and the tournament. But I appreciate you saying that about my mother''s baking.¡±


    ¡°Least ya have som'' skills comin'' in. I¡¯d be lucky to hire on som¡¯ z rated mercenaries.¡± Museph adds, hiking his pack further on his shoulder.


    ¡°Come now, Museph. We all received the same general education,¡± Jer advocates.


    ¡°Families skilled n¡¯trades always talkin¡¯ the ¡®equality¡¯ of gen ed, though ya¡¯ll get a leg up with the resources ya privilege wit.¡¯ us are as likely to end in the mines as a hovel.¡±


    ¡°That''s why the academy exists. You may not get a scholarship, but there are a lot of affordable trade skill certifications. I can work with that.¡± I argue.


    ¡°That¡¯s the hope; I hear: the prices can fluctuate,¡± Museph¡¯s heat petters off.


    ¡°Maybe you should check what you can afford?¡± Jer whispers to me.


    I glance into my coin purse and falter in my gait. I now openly stare at the riches in the bag, contemplating the sacrifice it took to scrounge together such wealth. We are well off, Balduan more so with his constant requests. Still, this is more than I can imagine, remembering and now understanding repairs going untended, treats abstained-


    ¡°Yes, from what my father experienced during his time at the academy, as guilds gain and lose, they have to change the cost,¡± Kerten supports me as I regain the thread.


    ¡°I never looked much into trade guild certifications, seeing as I will crush the tournament. Why do people join the guild if they can learn the trade skills without doing so? My father isn¡¯t a member, and he never really mentioned its importance,¡± Jer blusters.


    ¡°Primarily, access to resources and infrastructure that benefits commissioning work. Those benefits have diminishing returns for lower tiers in any trade. Considering your father is the highest non-guild affiliated artisan in his field, it is not surprising that he won''t need help from guilds. My mother told me that only the higher-tier classes change. Lower-tier classes and certain skills don''t change much,¡± Gale explains.


    ¡°Still a long shot, but it¡¯s possible.¡± Museph relents, smiling.


    ¡°And you, Gale?¡± Jer winks.


    ¡°What about me?¡±


    ¡°Tournament, certifications, what are you into?¡±


    ¡°I hope to hire on with an outfit scouting at the tournament. Merc''s work always seemed appealing to me.¡±


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    ¡°That sounds interesting.¡± Kerten notes.


    ¡°My parents didn¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Ours too. You think my father wanted anything other than a smith as a son,¡± Jer snorts.


    ¡°Exactly... They fought me until I left.¡±


    ¡°Well, looks like we will get the last laugh,¡± Jer predicts.


    We have a day of traveling through Willow¡¯s Grove before reaching the road where we will be camping under the canopy. Wild plants gather on the way for a hearty soup to pair with the chill of an early spring morning. Kerten shares some of his mother''s sourdough bread, which we gratefully consume. During the day, I learned Museph and Gale were together for a few summers. They broke up months before this trip and are unsociable towards each other. Kerten is a closed book. It isn¡¯t until we are alone, scrounging for soup vegetables, that I finally get through his defenses.


    ¡°Did you ever consider doing something other than baking?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, for a bit, I wanted to be a cartographer. But there is no way I could do that.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I am just a baker.  I was raised for it, you know?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. So, have you decided if you will test your might?¡±


    ¡°I think you have a point. Why not just try it out? Right?¡± Kerten laughs, stopping and facing me. My final step brings me close to him.


    ¡°Exactly, it''s usually good to do things you want,¡± I affirm cautiously, smiling at him.


    Wet, soft lips press against mine, gentle, only pressing enough to make contact. It isn¡¯t bad, but it isn¡¯t good. Pushing pulls Ker away with a look of confusion. I continue walking on our trail, looking for a topic to distract from the situation. I don¡¯t feel uncomfortable; I just wasn¡¯t expecting the contact. It''s something that I sometimes forget about, at least in a practical sense.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°You know that you can¡¯t just kiss people?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, it went differently in my head.¡±


    ¡°I like where your head''s at, but I am uninterested. You¡¯ll have to find that out before you go kissing people.¡±


    ¡°I apologize if I made you feel unsafe.¡±


    ¡°It did. If anything, this proves my point, though.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Because now you have fucked up and can do better; next time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± he agrees, pausing a moment before continuing, ¡°do you think we can keep in touch at the Citadel? It will be nice to know someone there.¡± He hedges, shoulders slumping in anticipation of rejection.


    ¡°Yeah. I will try,¡± I confirm.


    We make it to the northwestern road in good time. When we arrive, we don''t see anyone, making camp that night in a clearing half a mile off the road, with no fires and a watch schedule that keeps someone alert at all points of the night. Ambushes up here are frequent, so I scout ahead. Pattering myself along the willows and high reed grass precludes visibility. That makes this a sweet spot for sneaking up on unsuspecting paydirt.


    The vines stretch and interlock, encompassing everything. A knife in the roots allows me to hear the vibrations of passersby. They know this trick, so I have to outsmart whoever is out there, a stationary bandit who will listen for a catch.


    Assuming the scout will be too hard to sense, I must check each side of the road. With this strategy, I can pick up the activity of the larger group the scout is scouting for. I must also worry about panthers lying in the trees to catch any prey foolish enough to slip the cover of the grass.


    The way is silent, and I only encounter a few weary Willow Panthers and smaller animals. There are encampments off the road; at each, I check for indications of blood or anything amiss.


    A strange, heavy vibration halts my route as I double back on the eastern side of the road. I am trailing behind, and my group is closer than I like. I can faintly pick up my group and another presence deeper in the willows. As I listen, my group travels further down the road. I hear a distinctive vibration that appears close and moves toward the group in the willows.


    You stand there a second when horrid things happen. After my denial passes, I am up at dead scrabble¡ª I forgot my knife. I have to grab it before rushing to my group. The scout will take at least three and a half minutes to reach the camp of bandits, as they were at the extent of my senses. Assuming they are ready to set off, I will have, at most, eight minutes until they meet us.


    Bandits are coming, the weight falls on my shoulders, and everything snaps into focus. We will not make it in time; depending on where they plan to attack us, they will only be slightly behind, even if we all run. I¡¯m unsure of everyone''s speed, but Kreten is slower with his bulkier frame.


    Alright, options: We all fight the bandits; there are six. Nope, there are too many. Is there any way to lessen the number if there are too many? I only have a little in my bag that will help. There is no way to plan a counter without knowing where they will ambush us. If we ambush them, it will be bloody, with bad odds. We can hide; this offers the safest outcome with a successful evasion but offers little room if they have a good tracker.


    I would have gone for this option if not for the scout who¡¯d spotted us. Their skills are good, and they won''t have trouble uncovering us in the forest. As I stride from root to root, my pace reaches a crescendo, the reed part to greet me and close behind. I clear the grass ahead of my companions.


    ¡°Run,¡± ¡ª I wave ¡ª ¡°approximately six coming up on the east, six minutes from an intercept point. I don''t believe we can outrun them or hide.¡±


    ¡°That leaves fighting,¡± Jer enthuses.


    ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± Gale accepts.


    ¡°What?¡± Kerten freaks.


    ¡°We can just give ¡®em our stuff.¡±


    ¡°If we fight, it will be tough on even ground. What if you go ahead to dissuade a portion of the group?¡± Jer offers.


    ¡°Alone?¡± Gale fretts, measuring me.


    ¡°Who else could?¡± I ask with more heat than intended.


    ¡°Can you do this, Vesh?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for a better plan.¡±


    ¡°Do not engage in direct combat.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning on it.¡±


    ¡°Stay safe,¡± Kerten calls behind my back.


    ¡°I was planning on that,¡± I mutter.


    A gorilla assault, they will not be expecting that, and I¡¯ll hit them. Lessening their numbers makes both retreating and fighting more palatable. With plans in place, I disappear into the reeds. My body strains, pushing farther in faster than ever. My feet coast along from root to root, grass parting before me and together again behind. The scout will alert his camp, and I must predict their course to the road. They''ll adjust once they figure we are trying to outrun them; I¡¯ll need to plan accordingly.


    I need to be on a course that takes me to where their group will pass; I then need to strike the latter portion of the bandits silently. A large willow in my path offers my next glance at the enemy¡¯s position. At first, nothing is discernible, but then something starts low and spaced out.


    The vibrations vary, which is good because they are grouped in halves, allowing me to attack the latter portion with less risk. They are alarming because the low vibrations mean they know this area well and are moving fast. Also, I will overshoot their course on my current trajectory; my group is far from clearing the intercept¡ª maybe more bad. Our disadvantage is predictable. Banditry in these parts takes knowing some hows. I change my vector before starting up again.


    The few times my father and I ventured from the village, we never encountered anything like this. My father¡¯s knowledge of this land makes me look like a novice. With him, we never experienced anything like this. This intense situation constricts my body with regret. Though some bandits left people alive, the papers write of murders¡ª they are trying to kill us. That means I am about to start stabbing actual people, people with families, lives, and a distaste for being stabbed. I have trained for this and chose a weapon of Creations¡¯ mercy.


    Will rules body, will rules mind, will rules all.


    There is no means to avoid hurting people, which won''t put us all at the mercy of others. The group''s position on the road further affirms my violence. I am doing this to help my friends¡ª not to hurt the bandits. Swift, non-lethal damage to incapacitate them makes it not worth their time.


    Forced awareness bypasses concern, and I am sticking my knife down. Aways from a tree, vibrations are weaker, yet the enemy is close. I need to stay away from the willows as the reeds are denser between them. They are moving to the road, but I still overshot the bandits'' path. Those ten steps could be the difference that decides life or death for the people counting on me. I draw my rapiers as I crouch among the reeds. A debate starts on whether there''s enough time to correct my overstep; should I wait?


    The grove is still; only the rustle of foliage mars foreboding tranquility. Panting breaks in the distance, revealing the bandits. My indecision proves beneficial, as they are now moving toward me. The first group passing rustles the reeds around me, so I hold. The moment comes between breaths. A bandit, or rather a person, enters the range of my rapier, and I pounce; my trust dislodges a gurgling cry.


    ¡°Mg-nck,¡± the cry gurgles.


    Wait. Is that gurgling? One expects a scream from striking a leg, but not that wet slapping that sinks into me. I shuffle aside, stumbling a step, hardly able to see half a meter in front of me. Without vibrations as guides, I have to focus intently on my senses. Moving forward, a crack of steel slices at my midsection, destroying grass but avoiding me as I fall further back. Steel follows me.


    The threat doesn¡¯t feel real¡ª am I shivering? When did I get cold? I creep farther away to sink my knife into the roots. The two vibrations ahead of me are sweeping through the grass, moving towards me. I assume that this will hold their advance here, and I will be able to leave. I slink farther away while trying to get my shivering hands under control; I don''t even feel cold. A few moments later, I burp, but vomit spills out on the ground¡ª yet that wasn¡¯t me. Had I vomited?


    Before I am halfway back, I hear metal clanging on metal, forcing me to run. One of the attackers pursues me, but I don¡¯t care. Grass surrounds me; then the grass is gone, replaced with battle. Jer and Gale face three people. Jer¡¯s nose is bleeding, and he has a couple of knicks, but nothing unmanageable. Gale holds at Jer¡¯s side, looking much better than him, having only a cut lip.


    I run up on one before a pain rips through my shoulder. I throw my rapiers out into a retreating form and shift to Jer¡¯s side. The pain in my shoulder is a dull throb, but I don''t feel a difference in speed. The rest have fled or are hiding in the grass, readying to shoot an arrow.


    Four oppose our way, looking fed but unkempt; the stench of sweat rolls off them. They shade in a spectrum of dark dyes, ranging in build, but share the same dull expression. The one who stabbed me is the largest of the bunch.


    Alone, I would have no chance of survival. However, together, Jer and I are worth four. His force sucks all the attention, as refusing means six feet of steel carving into your chest.


    They free me to come in with measured strikes, incapacitating the farthest left bandit with a clean hit on their arm. Something about having Jer there, next to me, calms all worries. Here is what I fight for and against. Moving into a parry of the next blade thrust at me, I overextend my grip, and my rapier sails overhead to land behind us. Gale flows from outside my field of vision, under Jer¡¯s swing, slamming away the rest of the blow with her long sword.


    The save gives me the momentum to overwhelm my opponent as Jer distracts both the remaining. Gale uses this to make the knee of the farthest bandit crunch. Jer switches his grip, stepping into the third bandit with the flat of his blade, sending them into the last bandit and three feet past that. Heavy breathing intersperses the groans of people we''ve injured. We look at each other, then at the bandits.


    "Where are the others?" I ask.


    ¡°Kept¡ª going, got hit¡ª keeping them¡ª clear.¡± Jer pants, grabbing my other sword.


    ¡°Should... Should we help them?¡± I think aloud, grabbing the sword from Jer with shaking hands, trying to keep up for once.


    ¡°Was that a joke? No. We don¡¯t help them, Vesh. We run.¡± Jer shuts down, making his case in deed by staring us off.


    ¡°Yeah, my bad,¡± I mutter.


    ¡°If it makes you feel better, they will be fine.¡± Gale consoles after thinking a moment.


    ¡°They will be fine.¡± I echo, remembering the person I attacked¡ª might have killed?


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We can talk about it when we meet everyone and find some damned people.¡±


    We likely wouldn''t have been ambushed if we had met another group before this encounter. The bigger a group, the less likely they are to be ambushed, while we are hardly a half dozen kids from a piss-piddly village.

 Chapter 3

    We jog a little shy of a mile before catching up to the others as they trudge down the road. We call out to them by name, and they jump as they turn to us. Their looks of horror force me to re-examine our appearance, finding the blood coating us¡ª my blades, the ones still dug into my hands, are still shaking.


    ¡°You right?¡± Museph asks.


    ¡°Yeah-¡± I affirm with a crack that reveals the lie.


    ¡°Not our blood,¡± Jer notes, walking up to meet Kertan in an embrace, which Ker avoids.


    ¡°We should keep going for a few kilometers, camp far off the road. We will be safe when we find a larger group to travel with.¡±


    ¡°Alright, Vesh. Is everyone okay?¡± Jer rebukes.


    ¡°A little sore, but I can keep going.¡± Kertan mumbles.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine; it¡¯s y''all I¡¯m worried about. Lots of ¡®em¡¯? Are they chasin''? Vesh, ya shoulder is fucked."


    ¡°It hurts, but we can treat it when we make camp. As for the other two questions? I have no idea, so we need to continue. I¡¯ll scout ahead and grab you all when I¡¯ve found a spot to camp.¡± I order, pulling a shirt from my pack to cut into a sling and a bandage.


    ¡°Are you sure? I can scout ahead.¡± Jer frets, moving to stop me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine; even one-handed, I make a better scout than you.¡±


    Something festers under my skin, clouding my view and disrupting my harmony. I am a murderer or a savior, justifying either with each. I should have marked my target before attacking; that is Creations¡¯ mercy. But the moment was so sudden¡ª Stupid¡ª how had I made this mistake? How have I been so careless with life in my hands? How have I failed so early? I know of three hundred and twenty spots on the haiman body that you can hit without lethal repercussions. I struck none of them¡ª or did I? I didn¡¯t see the attack land, but that cry¡ª


    We wash in a stream, using it to cover our trek to camp, setting up with little conversation. Gale and Jer set to my wound. Gale, the seamstress''s daughter, elects to stitch my skin back together. Jer¡¯s experience with combat wounds emboldens him to direct her when he can¡¯t help it. It wasn¡¯t the worst he had seen. It will last until we meet some people on the road. If not, Brinx is two days away, and we can find a Creation priest there.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Jer asks once we are all settled.


    But I am already pretending to sleep. Jer gives in after asking a few more times, knowing I am too stubborn. The following two days are quiet until we are outside Brinx. There, we catch up to six younger adults around our age. The larger group makes us a less enticing target, though bandits usually won''t operate this close to a town.


    I dream of the person''s cold, surprised features as my rapier slid easily into their neck, or did I see that? The nights fill with my screams, but Jer is there to coo. Their cry wasn¡¯t more than a whimper, yet it tore through me, or was that the nightmare?


    ¡°Are you ready to talk?¡± Jer asks as I slump next to him.


    ¡°Possibly¡ª There were six bandits altogether, and I attacked a few with the cover of the reeds.¡±


    ¡°Vesh, that doesn¡¯t seem so bad. They are just bandits.¡±


    ¡°Just bandits?¡± Museph huffs from his bedroll before turning from us.


    ¡°Yeah, Museph, just bandits. People who¡¯d have killed us with little qualm. Go back to sleep,¡± Jer defends.


    ¡°He is right. Whatever they are doing, taking their life is still a heavy burden.¡± Gale agrees sleepily, understanding my position.


    ¡°I told you, Gale, we didn''t fatally wound any of them,¡± Jer argues, leaning over and holding me.


    ¡°In the grass¡ª the willows, when I struck¡ª I stabbed someone.¡±


    ¡°What happened, Vesh?¡±


    ¡°I stabbed them¡ª I mean, they called out. Well¡ª I guess it was more a whimper¡ª I think,¡± I mumble as tears prick my cheeks.


    ¡°Vesh. You didn''t mean to fatally wound anyone; that counts for something.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just¡ª If not for you three, we all would be dead. You three saved us all.¡± Kerten thanks.


    ¡°I think you did your best. I do not think you should blame yourself. I understand your feelings, though.¡± Gale reassures, coming over to hold my other side.


    Jer whispers similar platitudes in my ear as I fall on his chest, sobbing my horror without the frivolity of coherence. We slip asleep like this at some point in the tangle. Jer, Gale, and I snuggled together on our bedrolls. The night is full of bloody nightmares, punctuated by screams into wakefulness. I never meant to take the life of another person.


    ¡°Did you sleep well?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Mostly. ¡±


    ¡°Sorry if I kept you up.¡±


    ¡°Your shoulder?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Who is that next to Gale?¡±


    ¡°Lisen, you didn¡¯t notice her? She and Gale met last night.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Good for Gale. We should get going.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll wake everyone if you want to go ahead.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll do that.¡±


    We continue down the road while willows disperse into prairies with sparse foliage as Brinx lifts into view on the horizon. The house of worship imposes a ringing bell, its tower oppressing morality on all those around with pure white brick. A short wooden wall wraps the center of the town, farms stretching in every direction. At the center is a colorful hodgepodge of townhouses and single-family homes with shop fronts.


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


    Brinx has a reputation for some of the best soup around, a world-renowned light corn chowder that all four establishments sell a variation of. My father and I love the spicy version at the Brinx Brewery. We head there first, mentioning this to the group garners agreement from Ker, Gale, Lisen, and Museph.


    The area is busier than I have seen on my prior trips, and the infrastructure seems unfit. The gates stay open, welcoming fields packed with tents. People pay local landowners to camp on these plots, saving money on inns. We enter Brinx as the sun sets on our right, yet streets swell with people and products. Jer and Gale, stepping up to the challenge, stride through the crowd while the rest of us travel in their wake. Our group aims at the Brewery, which sits on the main street between the Guild house and another Inn. We soon find the dark green structure, looking completely different than I remember, yet I can¡¯t point to a single change.


    Heading down the alley beside the building, we wait outside for someone to come out, a respite from the clutter calling itself streets. A few minutes later, a younger ginger person walks out of the back holding compost bins. We stay a ways back to avoid intimidating whoever comes out. Jer¡¯s inexorably imposing figure affects at all distances, instigating immediate notice.


    ¡°We are friends of Yeln. No trouble.¡± I shout before the figure can reach the knife at their side.


    ¡°Ah? I am Jorg, Desh''s kid, right?¡±


    ¡°Desh¡¯dan. Yeah, sorry. It¡¯s busy. I am Vesh¡¯dan.¡± I greet them before introducing the rest of the group.


    ¡°We should be able to squeeze you in; come with me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. How do you identify yourself?¡± I ask, coming up behind and following through a stuffed storage room.


    ¡°Right, I knew I forgot my manners somewhere. I am Jorg, son of no one special until Yeln took me in.¡± He greets, mindlessly grabbing several things from the shelves.


    ¡°A ward then?¡±


    ¡°Not that official. Just a bit of charity.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard Yeln is the charitable sort.¡±


    ¡°The best sort, in my biased opinion.¡± He argues, leading us into a room full of tables, people, and noise.


    Dark wood from the forests further south bundles the building in a fancy shell. Inside that shell, a bard¡¯s half-heard diddy swims through the ambient murmurs as workers swarm around serving food, beer, and bussing dishes. The tavern is a well-oiled machine, with every employee doing their part to contribute to a function. Jorg weaves between obstacles, leading us to a table on the right wall near the bard.


    ¡°I¡¯ll put in a meal for everyone; Yeln should get here before it does. Soup with the entrees?¡± Jorg asks as he sits us down; the mugs appear, yet I had not noticed him acquiring them.


    ¡°Soup!¡± We all cheer back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back promptly.¡± Jorg accommodates, melting into the throng.


    ¡°He seems nice,¡± I observe, looking over to find everyone in a drinking contest, staring challenges over the brims of their mugs.


    I consider the strife of before and how it juxtaposes the mirthiness now abundant. A warm meal and a bed can lighten a lot, but this atmosphere is the real prize. Even though a part of it is pretend, I laugh and tip back my own, drowning the gunk as the fun in the ale warms my chest. We continue like this, each drinking three mugs in thirty minutes while Jer and Gale put down four. When Jorg returns to the table, we all cheer equally for his welcome arrival and its meaning.


    The soup is light with creamy broth suspending simmered chunks of vegetables whose freshness entices the pallet; none of that rehydrated stuff this close to civilization. The dish''s heat perpetuates a loop whereby the spiciness from the last bite soothes under the creaminess in the next. A few at our table can''t handle it, so Jer and I pilfer theirs. The meal for tonight is an asparagus risotto with cashew cheddar rolls; the soup is better. Yeln comes by our table by the end of our meal. They look a little older and shorter than I remember, but they still wear that same tight black suit, accentuating their gray eyes.


    ¡°I am Yeln, child of Kandor. And here is the group drinking my inn dry.¡± Yeln jests, coming up and standing at the side of the table.


    ¡°Yeln, I''ll tell you this: Your soup and ale make me consider abandoning my life and staying here to drink and eat all the hospitality you have.¡± I eloquently thank them through my stuffed mouth.


    ¡°Hush. Vesh is trying to say thank you.¡± Jer unhelpfully assists.


    ¡°Why thank you, Jer, that is what I meant to say.¡±


    ¡°Remind me to limit that hospitality to two drinks the next time you gluttons swing, though.¡± Yeln admonishes, grabbing a chair from the table across from us and sitting down.


    ¡°We won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Alright, troubled youths, back to business. You¡¯ve spilled half of it on the table. No. It¡¯s fine¡ªa tool of the trait. I¡¯ll clean this up, and you can keep the map. Jer and you shouldn¡¯t have a problem getting hired. Depending on the skills of the rest of your friends, they might have to pay their way onto the caravan.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t we just sneak behind ¡®em¡¯?¡±


    ¡°You could, but you would leave you behind at some point. The coordinators are wise to the trick.¡±


    ¡°Wew, juust souns¡¯ rough,¡± Ker slurs.


    ¡°The caravans coming through here are affordable, so folks don¡¯t bother with the hassle.¡± Yeln returns.


    ¡°Much¡¯ll be ours?¡±


    ¡°It will be sixteen coppers each; in the next few days, the price will go up by eight. You can stay at my place; Jorg will give directions when you finish. Is there anything else?¡± Yeln asks as they stand.


    ¡°Yes, do you know anyone who can see this shoulder injury? I am also to remind you of your previous engagement with my father and receive a letter?¡± I ask, tipping back my fourth mug and gesturing to my shoulder.


    ¡°Uh.¡±


    ¡°Vesh might need a creation priest. The other part was about a letter?¡±


    ¡°Hush that idiot up. I¡¯ll have someone see to your wounds. As for the other matter, tell your father not to send an inebriated, wet-eared¡ª You¡¯ll have everything you need.¡± Yeln offers with a strange glance towards Gale, and then they are off to put out more fires.


    ¡°Nice person,¡± Gale gurgles.


    ¡°Does anyone think a party will be going on after this?¡± Jer enthuses, finishing moments before Gale.


    ¡°Ya can ask Jorg,¡± Museph adds, finishing third.


    ¡°We can start a party.¡± I encourage from fourth place.


    "Why ''on''t we juss say go?" Ker coughs, spilling the last beer in his lap, disqualifying himself.


    ¡°We should say go; it¡¯s only fair,¡± Lisen adds, speaking up from behind Gale for the first time.


    Lisen¡¯s shyness mismatches the group''s energy. After a couple more rounds, the tavern slims as people mill into the town or back to their camps. Jorg walks over and sits down in the chair Yeln had pulled up. He is a bit dirtier, with stains smearing his dark blue uniform.


    ¡°Yeln said this is the last.¡±


    ¡°Juus too¡ª Beguurk ¡ª soon I say.¡± Ker gurgles through a burp, face down on the table.


    ¡°Well, Jorg, where can we keep this going?¡± Jer asks.


    ¡°That will be The Traveler; Yeln also owns it. They are only open for the few months we get traffic from the Vying, catering to this storm of hooligans.¡±


    ¡°What is it for the rest of the year?¡± Gale inquires.


    ¡°It¡¯s a school,¡± Jorg snorts.


    ¡°Which a¡¯ Yeln¡¯s buildings we stayin¡¯ in?¡± Museph chastises.


    ¡°That will be their residence. It is on the eastern side of town, a tall purple building on the main road. It sticks out. Here is a key to the building; there is only one, though, so you¡¯ll have to share.¡± Jorg directs, handing over a simple iron key.


    ¡°Will you be joining us on our escapades, Jorg?¡± I inquire.


    ¡°I¡¯ll catch up with you all at The Traveler,¡± Jorg promises, standing up and walking away.


    ¡°Alright, who can walk?¡± I call for rolls.


    Everyone seems better off than me, except for Ker, who falls to the ground at my shout. Gale and Lisen agree to help him to Yeln¡¯s house, claiming they are too tired to go off with us. Jer assists me to my feet, and we are off to continue our decompression.


    Walkways bulge with late-night street vendors and people holding mugs. Bards play to the tune of generosity with passersby, who give copper bits. Several glow gems line the parade, casting shadows on the richly painted buildings. I had never seen such a congregation getting drunk together, celebrating creation. People surround a two-story dark green brick building with a balcony and porch wrapping halfway around. A sign hanging from the front of the building shows an embossed carriage.


    The press of bodies is so consistent that you are brushing up against four people standing still. The crowd thickens around several counters, where indiscernible blurs attend to drunks. After ten minutes, we get a pony keg of ale with a few wooden cups; the keg even comes with a strap¡ªhow ingenuitive. Jer cracks it at the first picnic table after clearing the crowd.


    He soon gets into an argument with a person who considers his sword an ornament rather than a tool of Destructions¡¯ wrath. The two are close to a brawl when I suggest an arm wrestling contest instead. After quickly dispensing with the fool, Jer continues challenging people¡ªa line forms, all eager to test their strength against the giant. Charging the losers a copper bit recuperates enough to pay for our debauchery.


    Jorg joins us later in the night, having changed into a floral leisure suit. We greet him with a drink and another immediately after, helpfully allowing him to catch up. Proving susceptible to the poison, Jorg dances on the table soon after. What I suspect will be a painful fall turns into an impromptu concert as the local bards bolster Jorg''s singing, pulling the entire square into several verses of Come Again, Drunkard Glen.


    Come again, drunkard Glen.


    Cronies captured and forgotten.


    If ever you¡¯d performed a feat.


    I''m sure as bettin¡¯ against a cheat.


    Pretend again, drunkard Glen.


    Pretenses drowned down with gin.


    Winter winds freezin¡¯ skin.


    Wonderin¡¯ for a warmer inn.


    Spend again, drunkard Glen.


    Serenade abandoned kin.


    Until the end, you¡¯ll have a seat.


    Upon your tides, our hearts will beat.


    Foreign friend Drunkard Glen.


    Farewells tell of an amend.


    I have heard it before with less production and less skill. Brass blasts its bravado to a steady timbre, calling cadence to the flutes while lute hollows vibrate a filling chest. The crowd calls for an encore, and Jorg obliges. We cheer and pay his tab for the gift of Creations¡¯ light.


    A few people attempted to catch my attention, but I focused on our fun and politely shut them down. A particularly insistent older man needs to learn the finer points of politeness before finding the hint.


    On the other hand, Jer makes out with nearly six different people, each rather attractive. Even Museph chats up some gruff older person. The partially painful night of fun settles like a leaf falling from a tree, coming to rest in a gutter a few paces past Yeln¡¯s tavern. Strong hands pull me to my feet while draping my arm over their warm shoulders. Once they figure out, as I have, that my legs are dead, they lift me like when I was young.


    ¡°This never happens to me,¡± I blush, belching.


    ¡°I know about your impotence, Vesh. Usually, I¡¯m the one holding you upright to get us there,¡± Strong hands barks.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll say.¡±


    ¡°Say what.¡± someone asks from over there.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I affirm, pointing at where I thought the insurrectionist hid.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Strong hands confirm as I huddle into the peppery scent of home.

 Chapter 4

    The next day starts late with a touch of searing pain, recompense for last night''s overindulgence. Awaking in an unfamiliar bed and clothes is uncomfortable, but no one''s with me. I dress once I¡¯ve spotted my pack, finding nothing where there should be tenderness. I run my fingers across my smooth skin, not believing what isn¡¯t there. I have heard of this but never seen it: the ability to remove a wound without leaving a trace. Relenting, I exit to find another room instead of a hallway.


    Glass flowers refract exuberance against their dark porcelain vases atop tables inlaid with silver. On the walls are landscapes of the four Empire, set in the corresponding cardinal direction: Grev¡¯hiam in the east, the mountains to the north, the Calv¡¯alvin Forest to the west, and Destructions¡¯ Waste in the south. At the center of the room is another table with six legs, each carved to represent a different element, resting on a woven rug.


    Altogether, this is wealth on a scale I can¡¯t imagine. My father and I have never taken Yeln up on the offer of staying here¡ª until now. It gives me a new appreciation for their success. The others sit at the table except for Gale and Lisen, who are undoubtedly running late for the same reason. Upon seeing me, Jer smiles, gesturing to a seat next to himself. I snatch a strawberry as I sit, swallowing it before he can protest.


    ¡°Damn, Vesh, Jorg will bring your food.¡±


    ¡°I know, but yours is always better,¡± I explain, pilfering a couple of blueberries.


    ¡°You¡¯re an ass,¡± Jer resigns.


    ¡°My wound is gone,¡± I toss.


    ¡°Healed?¡± Jer swings.


    ¡°Yeah, even the stitches.¡±


    ¡°Maybe Yeln had someone look at it?¡± Ker offers after a moment of silence.


    ¡°Probably,¡± I agree.


    ¡°Heard you all had a blast last night,¡± Ker sulks, picking at his plate of food.


    ¡°Ker, it was nothing so impressive,¡± Jer reassures.


    ¡°Vesh did kick sm¡¯ guy''s dick off,¡± Museph speaks from the side of his mouth as he admires the opulence of the manor.


    ¡°Huh? Like off of his body?¡± Ker questions.


    ¡°Merely a re-adjustment, nothing so permanent as removal. Though I don''t imagine that to be much of a loss,¡± I jest, glancing at Ker to see him smile.


    ¡°You can come out with us tonight, Ker?¡± Jer adds.


    Before Ker¡¯s answer, Jorg enters the room with two plates of food and a glass of water. Large biscuits surround a crepe stuffed with cheese, broccoli, and cauliflower, accompanying a dish of peppered white gravy and a plate with blueberries, sliced strawberries, and oranges.


    ¡°Thank you, I can eat a farm,¡± I thank, digging into the breakfast.


    ¡°No problem. Are you all going to check out the caravan today?¡±


    ¡°Ya. That¡¯s the plan,¡± Museph mutters, finally taking his eyes away from a jeweled pitcher.


    ¡°Oh! Jorg, did Yeln have someone treat my injury last night?¡±


    ¡°Probably. Let me know when you¡¯re ready, and I¡¯ll show you to the camp.¡± Jorg offers before going back to the kitchen.


    ¡°Anyone seen Gale yet?¡± I rhetorically ponder aloud to the laughter spilling down the hallway.


    ¡°I think Gale and Lisen will be a bit longer,¡± Jer plays along.


    ¡°Inconsiderate,¡± Museph simmers.


    Gale and Lisen return by the time we finish, allowing us to set off. Jorg ushers us through the bustle, leading us past the walls to a field of tents. Our target is a grouping of stands with different insignias denoting their trading house. Lines of people sprawl out in front of each booth, wrapping around the tents.


    ¡°Fuck, Jorg. We have to wait in that?¡± Jer curses, massaging his temples.


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯ll be lucky to get through in a few hours,¡± Jorg reveals with malice.


    We all get in line for the Kandor house, waiting our turn. The pace is slow enough to last into the mid-afternoon. A wizen person in plain clothing sits behind the stand. They greet us with a brisk but polite introduction. First, they ask all of us for our names. Jer mentions that he and I will be looking to work as guards; they tell us that is at the discretion of the caravans coordinator. Finally, we pay a fee of sixteen coppers each.  Jer and I will receive reimbursement if we are allowed to guard. For the wait, we win a scrap of paper with several numbers and a Kandor seal verifying it.


    We decided to speak to the coordinator while the others got supplies. The coordinator is a stocky person overseeing nearby wagons. They have washed-out black clothing, and their gray beard stretches to their belly button. Everyone around defers to them, denoting their position. They speak with someone who looks identical to them except for the armor and sword, signaling the other as a fighter.


    ¡°Hello.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± The coordinator grunts, turning to us.


    ¡°I am Vesh¡¯dan, and this is Jerduan, son of Steel.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, that''s good for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to bother you. The attendant told us to see you about being hired-.¡± I start again after sharing a look with Jer.


    ¡°Oh, well, you should have said something.¡± They interrupt, then speed through an examination, ¡°Alright, he is in. You wouldn¡¯t need to swing that thing; you¡¯re another matter. Yes, you¡¯re far too slender. I¡¯ll have you spar with my guard here, prove you can use those fancy blades.¡±


    ¡°Can you believe this?¡± I bluster, looking at Jer.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jer deadpans.


    ¡°I am Tild, daughter of Wellen. You¡¯re planning on guarding our little outfit,¡± the armored one greets.


    ¡°I figure I will have to fight either way if something happens.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, follow me.¡±


    She leads us to a stretch of dirt outside the camp, with small benches around the pit. Two people duel in its center at a slow pace. The larger is loosening their defense. The other pushes close with shortswords before being forced to retreat again. The swords strike out once each for every broadsword swing.


    ¡°Give us a few minutes,¡± Tild commands.


    ¡°Yes, sr,¡± Both ring off as their practice halts.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see what you got.¡± Tild challenges, pulling her sword from its sheath.


    ¡°Hope to impress.¡±


    She holds a simple steel longsword with some rodent engraved in the hilt. Her stance is open, taunting attack while being deceptively on guard. Three probing thrusts rebuke with lazy smacks, the force of which nearly disarms me. In this moment of distraction, she moves into my guard with a smooth horizontal swing. Stepping back, I narrowly avoid as my defense closes.


    Smiling green eyes meet me as she steps back and taunts another attack. Ten weary thrusts use my superior reach to wear down the older opponent. After a minute, this provokes her to prod me back with confident swings while batting away any rebuttal. My retreat keeps pace as she tries to move in. My intentions shift to demonstrate defensive skill, making her blade slow before the point of contact.


    After a few close strikes, she gives me control of the pace again. Allowing me to weigh my options: she is skilled, it can''t compare to Jer, but near enough, and she''s holding back a lot. After these considerations, the best choice is a trick, though it will probably not work. I want to show them all whom they are dealing with.


    She stands ten paces away in a guarding stance. Running straight at her, screaming for good measure, four steps out, I throw my right rapier straight at her body. She slaps it aside as I get two steps closer, driving my left rapier at her chest. The barrage commits my opponent to move right where I need to. My right-hand pulls a wooden dagger to her neck before my world spins.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°The hell¡ª was that?¡± I wheeze as I catch my breath.


    ¡°It''s a footwork technique¡ªnothing special, but useful when your opponent is tunneling,¡± she grins.


    ¡°Tunneling?¡±


    ¡°Tunnel vision, Vesh,¡± Jer offers with his hand.


    ¡°Yes, well. I apologize for wasting your time.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Tild calls out.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I acquiesce.


    ¡°A wooden dagger? Where did you pick that up?¡± Tild questions, curiously tilting her head.


    ¡°It occurred to me; even worked on Jer the first time,¡± I point out while pointing at Jer.


    ¡°Tricks like that only work once.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t even work once on you,¡± I retort.


    ¡°You can add on with us. Keep close to your friend there.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I begrudge.


    We hear Tild¡¯s laughter from the caravan tents as we walk back into the town to meet up with everyone else. The fight made me feel less confident about my prospects in the tournament. It is a hope of mine to get in, but as I meet more skilled people, I start to prepare myself for not succeeding, requiring ends to meet with other means. My only other skills are smithing and farming. Alternatively, I can go into doing something like Yeln. Considering the wide range of earnings, it holds possibilities with risks.


    I locate the others exiting a sizeable orange building with a sign holding two crossed swords. Gale is in the lead, shoving the doors open with a huff and storming past. Lisen follows behind, pleading for something I can''t make out, followed by the rest in a somber mood.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I raise, looking at the pair¡¯s retreat.


    ¡°She gets like that,¡± Museph averres.


    ¡°You¡¯re just an ass,¡± Ker defends.


    ¡°Is it about...?¡±


    ¡°No, Vesh. They¡¯ll work it out. Let¡¯s grab this stuff so we can start drinking,¡± Jer asserts, leading us to the next store.


    We purchase the supplies with little hassle, all but Museph pitching in to grab Gale and Lisen''s things. Vendors¡¯ unwillingness to haggle affords market rate until a younger woman catches Jer¡¯s charm. She gives us a better price on several decoy coin purses for a few smiles. We are again back at Yeln¡¯s Tavern, enjoying spicy soup and sweet ale.


    Another hangover greets me as I wake. I can¡¯t remember much past the sixth mug except the lint in my mouth from drinking ale out of a boot. Breakfast isn¡¯t louder than a whisper, each sound inducing plaintive murmurs. Jorg delivers food while whistling, and napkins descend upon the scoundrel. Our goodbyes are brief; Yeln is too busy to see us off, and Jorg looks eager to return to their side. We all thank him before stumbling out of the town, dragging ourselves to a loathing we had paid for.


    The travel is dreary; spring showers pour down, only letting up enough for us to dry before soaking us again. The rest of the travelers are in similar states, everyone having too much fun in Brinx. We break our march every few hours to rest. Jer and I are scouting the way, so we are together for the most part. We keep up our sparring on breaks as well as in the afternoons, between supper and rest.


    Ker spends his free time attached to Jer¡¯s hip. I don''t mind the company, and Jer loves the attention. He spends afternoons watching us train, even joining in on occasion. He is garbage with an axe.


    After a long day, we camp on the road, our sheer number disallowing us to do so anywhere else. The others have to help set camp as we scout the prairies. I had never been this far south, making me second fiddle to Jer¡¯s skill. The open horizon of undulating grass continues for miles; here and there, patches of flowers disrupt the uniformity of red. I have read that the sang prairie grass resembles the fur of a routwood. Now I¡¯ve seen one, the other gains solidity.


    As we share supper, I observe Museph¡¯s absence. Gale is always ready to mention a cute thing about Lisen to illicit collective sighs from everyone present. Jer and I bolster tales of heroism in our desperate defense of the caravan from unspeakable evil. Each of our revelries indulges on sympathetic ears.


    That night, in the middle of our trek, I am on watch to catch a glimpse of a private conversation. Sitting on a somewhat hidden rock offers a good vantage. Looking at the moons in the sky, I consider the others asleep until I overhear noises from Gale and Lisen. I try to distract myself; distraction includes dirt, plants, and moons¡ª my attempts are fruitless.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the last time. I¡¯ve never had that.¡±


    ¡°It is okay. It is normal to fake it,¡± Lisen reassures.


    ¡°I know, I was... nervous. I am still nervous.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t focus on trying; relax. Enjoy it, and let the momentum build on its own. Allow yourself to feel g-.¡±


    I become too uncomfortable at the first noise to continue justifying my intrusion. Vigilance dies under the weight of propriety as I encircle our camp at a wide radius. That may be why Museph left; it never woke me.


    Our journey resumes a sobering trudge; its most considerable inconvenience is the occasional ranging boar that we lure off. Without Jer to ease the boredom, I would take several grass naps. Stew with rolls in the afternoon, while rations constitute all other nutrition. Luckily, we can find a few branapple trees to break the monotony. On the second to last day, Tild approaches our small encampment with a jingle of armor. She greeted us, sitting down on a log we had drug over.


    ¡°Are you all getting along well?¡± She asks with a rehearsed cadence.


    ¡°Mostly, just ready to be done walking all day,¡± I complain, and the group corroborates my sentiment.


    ¡°Good. Good. Well, I come over to all the camps and make sure everyone knows what to expect coming to the Citadel.¡± She begins, looking for affirmation before continuing. ¡°Most people have heard about the tournament and accompanying festival. Hundreds of events are going on in the same week, guild-related stuff. So the first thing you will want to do is get rooms. Even though you are all here early, Inns will fill fast. Next, any of you who want to enter the tournament should consider doing that soon for similar reasons. After that, I caution you to be wise. Crime is as common as dangerous areas in the Citadel.¡± She finishes as if for the millionth time.


    ¡°Thank you, Tild.¡±


    ¡°If there is nothing else, here are the reimbursements for the trip; thank you all for traveling with-¡±


    ¡°May I ask you some questions about the festival?¡± I interrupt.


    ¡°Oh? Of course, I have some time.¡± She responds.


    ¡°Are there any professions that you feel are... deserving of more consideration?¡±


    ¡°Interesting question. It depends on your talents, of course...¡± She trails off, rubbing her beard.


    ¡°Smithing, farming, fighting somewhat, some say ¡°a kind of charm¡±?'''' I count the points on my fingers, looking to Jer for support.


    ¡°Eh, could use some work,¡± Jer prodds me and the fire.


    ¡°Well, yeah¡ªhelpful. Anyway, I¡¯ve always had an interest in other species. I want to see the empire, but I¡¯m not interested in mercenary work.¡±


    ¡°Diplomatic positions are always in demand, but the field is difficult without substantial resources. There are interesting specializations of magical certifications.¡±


    ¡°Difficult? Mage certifications are so far out of our range that we¡¯d have an easier time buying a castle.¡± Ker exaggerates.


    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s see. Mercantile practices? Possibly even as a means to explore further studies. I had not expected to become a guard for a caravan when I first came on with the Kandor house. I thought I would be negotiating deals and marking accounts in a ledger,¡± Tild¡¯s musing is stifled a bit with the armor. ¡°You could be amazed at where a journey has taken you. So I would say trust yourself¡ª your desires.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Insightful considerations. Thank you, Tild.¡±


    I bow deeply. Tild returns the bow with quick farewells. I lay awake that night rehearsing my failure. Have I killed someone? Nonetheless, not knowing is a failure. Creations¡¯ mercy is more than intent. This journey is a day from over, and¡ª I thought-


    Well, it would be better, more something. It wasn''t bad, but it wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d expected. A restless energy is born when dwelling on the tournament. The only thing I can do is be considerate of my strengths and limitations. Take the opportunities that come. This affirmation does little to assuage my anxiety, only allowing me to fall asleep tonight. Eventually, I deferred the problem to an older me.


    The sun rises over our first glimpse of the Citadel in the last week of Spart. Lines of specks converge upon the shining city of color from all directions. The city''s range of color drains to white in a circle surrounding the ¡®Pillar of Creation.¡¯ This sanctum of sanctums stands prominently twice as tall as its nearest competitor and is perfectly cylindrical. Black foundation stone glitters with dew from the wall to the road to the sanctum. In between this bordering black, colors of every hue bunch out like a bouquet whose vibrance pales the memory of Brinx. The entrance is a prick in the wall with lines of specks streaking far too far to conceptualize.


    A look at the others reveals similar emotions plastered upon them. I see enough to justify walking to Willows¡¯ Grove and back again. Jer smiles so loud I can hear his heart. Me? I want to keep my coin purse long enough to find a way forward. Sitting in another line for five hours or so is less climactic.


    But upon entering, my eyes catch on buildings, signs, and carts. Sidewalks undulate with people perusing the buildings and their wares. Carriages fly down the road with pedestrians only a meter away, frightening enough without considering their sheer number. They range in worth from the practical one the caravan used to ornate piles of treasure. Unlike Brinx, though, the infrastructure here is capable of handling traffic. Noise permeates me at a constant hum, soaking up every silence. My gawking lands on a child in a slim gap between buildings devouring animal flesh¡ª completing the sensory overload. Feeling overwhelmed by everything, I suggest we move to the alley.


    ¡°Put that down? Please-¡±


    ¡°Richies so squeamish, bunch a¡¯ pambies.¡±


    ¡°I apologize. Perhaps I can buy something to consume?¡± I offer.


    ¡°I ain¡¯t need ya charity, piss off.¡± They spit, seared flesh landing on my pants.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tea-¡± Jer began.


    ¡°We will be going in a moment. Excuse us.¡± I redirect, moving the group out of earshot.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do anything, Vesh,¡± Jer argues.


    ¡°They are eating an animal. Are there wards here?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Things are different here. Population density causes the ward system to be overwhelmed,¡± Gale explains.


    ¡°What do you know about it, Gale?¡± Jer barks.


    ¡°Eat a dick, dick. Lisen told me,¡± Gale retorts.


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯ll get there,¡± I mumble, thinking of approaches to the problem.


    ¡°Vesh,¡± Jer scolds.


    ¡°I¡¯m compliant. We need a plan.¡±


    ¡°I know an inn,¡± Lisen whispers, peeking then at Jer and now away.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good start¡ª I know it sucks, but we should register today,¡± my suggestion meets weary faces.


    ¡°Are you sure, Vesh? It¡¯s been a long week,¡± Jer frets.


    ¡°I am going. Better get out,¡± I initiate, looking around.


    ¡°Before the sun,¡± their finish is off-pitch.


    One last glance at the pile of bones makes a promise. After parting ways, we ask an older person selling stalks of roasted cauliflower for directions and four portions. Taverns stand out here or there, dishing tantalizing smells that make my mouth water. An umami of entanglement amplifies the nearest visible thing as the source of all.  The line for the tournament is visible before the Colosseum, a daunting prospect that makes me reconsider a small life in a small town that doesn''t have enough people to make lines a tenth this length. Yet we persevere with the aid of chummy rantings and vendors enterprising enough to profit off our misery. Despite our best efforts, we reach the front of the line sometime later.


    -Hic-cup-¡± I am Vesh¡¯dan.¡±


    ¡°Great job. Let''s see if you got it right. Oh, that doesn¡¯t sound like¡ª but we will continue. Will you need any accessibility?¡± The young person began, looking over paperwork and scribbling.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°The slip is important, so don¡¯t lose it. Also, a list of directions to lead you through the tournament.¡± They finish, handing me a few sheets of parchment before shooing me away.


    I get the feeling that they don¡¯t appreciate the fine work done by those merchants. Waiting for everyone allows me to dance with a violinist until we head to the inn. Lisen is hollering at us from the balcony of a four-story lime green townhouse. Banners hung from every protruding object make bold promises. Hands deep from a bottle of scotch, a serenading Lisen balladizes her love for Gale with an accompanying banjo.


    ¡°Not a one can reach the pale, not a one has her appale, all of this and a great butt, thhaaaat¡¯ss Gaaaaaaaaaale!¡± She belts, playing well for having drunk so much.


    ¡°I like your song,¡± Gale calls up.


    ¡°Then get up here and kiss me,¡± Lisen burps.


    ¡°She is irresistible,¡± Gale growls, marching through the doors to claim the kiss.


    Lisen sure has a different drunk demeanor than I was expecting. Veneration abounds in the house, with portraits of friends and families adorning every visible space. The mismatched decor and smattering of Tchotchke cabinets inspire welcoming deference. Seats full of young faces laugh and mingle. A wide staircase takes us to the balcony, where Gale holds Lisen. We sit as Lisen tackles Ker.


    ¡°You did it! Are you going to regret it, going from tame baker to flame breaker?¡±


    ¡°Aim taker.¡± Gale tosses.


    ¡°Dame quacker.¡± Jer rebounds.


    ¡°A dame? With his lineage?¡± I add, asking rhetorically.


    ¡°Mayem maker?¡± Kerten hedges, followed by our cheers.


    The tavern serves thin noodles with sauteed snap peas and broccoli tossed in a sweet garlic cream sauce. The light cream sauce compounds a buttery chardonnay the tavern makes especially for the tournament. Patrons scrape delight against bowls with eager cutlery. After the meal, we help each other through a communal bath with little energy to do much else. The warm water seeps into road-weary bones but fails to relieve the underlying discomfort. Finally, I am alone in a room with a bed, a shelf, and a washing bowl. They leave much¡ª but all I need is a bed, which I collapse into.

 Chapter 5

    We arrive one week before the tournament and accompanying festival. I tell Jer to spend all the time he can training with someone more skilled as he can afford to do so. Lacking similar funds for training, I elect to train Ker instead. Teaching him the basics will help me to deepen my understanding of them, a pauper''s pedagogy. My Father gave me money, but that would have to last two years, and trainers are expensive.


    Our first session begins with a run that empties Ker. My laughter takes a poor first step in building a new dynamic. We move into forms as I focus on his strengths. First Willow, then Reed Panther, and back to Reed. Both finish quickly; his stance is strong, but the rest isn¡¯t. I consider the best outcome, prompting me to ask:


    ¡°What will be the ideal outcome?¡±


    ¡°Just standing my ground for a match or two, I guess¡­¡±


    ¡°You need to focus on the grip. Axes are more forward-balanced than swords; gripping the lower portion like that will lower mobility but offer a greater impact. Keep your grip higher for defense versus striking, but first, a default position between the two.¡± I instruct, moving his hand to the appropriate positions.


    My control tests sparring as Ker tries to hold his weapon once struck. It¡¯s a dozen false starts before we can enter the training tempo. Here, I will be able to test him. Slow attacks bolster his confidence while we work up the pace. Ker¡¯s footwork necessitates frequent halts as I demonstrate proper steps.


    The worst is a tendency to trip himself when I am attacking. Scraps and bruises speckle Ker by the end of our training, necessitating my help in the baths. Jer joins us in a similar state, adding to my workload. Jer is twice as hard to clean as Ker, but I am used to the task. We eat our supper in a subdued atmosphere. Ker retires, leaving Jer and me alone.


    ¡°You doubt your chances.¡± Jer guesses.


    ¡°Better to keep options open.¡±


    ¡°I understand what you are doing, just don''t give up on it yet. I know you can make it, Vesh.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can. I always thought I had a chance, but the more I see, the more I realize how far the gap is. We are at risk so far from our goal. Failing here is too real and more present than I can confront.¡± I sulk.


    ¡°Whether you can or not isn¡¯t even something you can control, Vesh. Do your best to show people what you are capable of.¡±


    The training seemed like a good idea, but Ker is hopeless presently. He chokes under pressure, stumbles every third step, and can''t keep a hand on his weapon. This recognition is more disappointing than frustrating, and it doesn¡¯t seem to help me at all¡ªnot as much as training with someone skilled would. The years I spent training with Jer for the tournament will matter more than the week of this.


    After our second training day, we break for lunch, picking randomly within our budget. The streets thicken as more people arrive for the festivities. We sat at a communal table in a sandwich shop. Unlike places I have been to, you can choose things here. All the sandwiches come with fried eggplant, but you can select the bread, cheese, and sauce. There are so many choices that I freeze, looking at the board for a minute.


    ¡°Try the fennel sourdough with cashew cheddar and ginger aioli. If you want, you can try some of mine,¡± Someone suggests, offering an appealing sandwich.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word. Any person willing to share their sandwich is a good sort.¡±


    ¡°I am Terfer, child of Cosm. Would you mind if I ate with you?¡± they introduce themselves with a smile.


    ¡°I am Vesh¡¯dan, and I¡¯d be pleased. I''ll make some room here. We just got off a Kandor caravan.¡±


    ¡°I am Kerten, son of Holia.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s appreciated. Kandor is a house of honest traders. You two are in town for the tournament?¡±


    ¡°We are, in fact, both promising contenders,¡± I lie.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will put on a show. Are you looking for some work?¡± They hedge, smiling again.


    ¡°Here comes the pitch,¡± Ker announces.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not interested, I understand.¡±


    ¡°Come now; we will hear you out,¡± I insist.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Okay. I oversee a portion of the festival setup and could use some contenders to assist.¡± They finish with the last of their sandwich.


    ¡°How much are we talking about here?¡±


    ¡°Hmmm, let¡¯s say two silver bits a day?¡±


    ¡°Three?¡± I counter


    ¡°Call it three,¡± they concede. Putting down a few coppers as they stand, ¡°I¡¯ll see you at the fairgrounds at first light.¡±


    ¡°We will see you there,¡± I call.


    Our sandwiches arrive soon, and we are satisfied with their suggestion. With the sort of money, I worry it is disreputable work, though we will probably be alright if that is the case. I sense nothing but formality from them and find it hard to consider them a criminal. Ker doesn¡¯t mention what this means for training.


    We meet Terfer the following day outside the walls of the Citadel. Tents and attractions rise from the empty field, littering the ground in a rough outline. The overt meeting place contents my alert posture. They are easy enough to track down, being so tall and attractive. We come upon them with a jovial greeting to express our excitement for this opportunity.


    ¡°Good morning, my new friends,¡± Terfer returns as we approach, ¡°No¡ª are you confused? Place this on the front,¡± they finish with another person before turning fully to us.


    ¡°What will you have your new friends doing this fine morning?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have the two of you on my right and left as extra hands,¡± they acquiesce, looking over some scrolls.


    ¡°Seems rather important to grab two people off the streets for?¡± I question.


    ¡°Yeah, for all you know, we could be buffoons.¡± Ker agrees.


    ¡°You rightly could. Sadly, it is a tough position to fill, and I can spot good workers when I see them,¡± Terfer admits.


    ¡°With the money you''re offering?¡± I grill.


    ¡°Compliments won¡¯t deflect you. Well, you¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Sure, it¡¯s nothing we need to know.¡± Ker mumbles.


    ¡°Precisely why I won¡¯t tell, and you failed to ask sooner. There is a lesson there.¡± Terfer finishes finding the relevant sheet and hands it over. ¡°This should keep you busy for a couple of hours. Follow each instruction to the letter. If I must clean a mess, you¡¯ll go the way of the Buckleys.¡±


    ¡°Who are the Buckleys?¡± Ker asks.


    ¡°Why, the two brothers of the Buckley house, who held this position before you.¡±


    ¡°And what happened to them?¡± I ask.


    ¡°See, you¡¯re already learning. Now, off with you, I have important things to do. When done, find me. Hey! You there, don¡¯t walk away from me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to quit. It¡¯s just. There have to be a hundred things on there.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s give it a chance. We could meet some beauties or an important guild official. Sweeping away either with our charms is sure to turn this around. These will be, oh, there are a lot¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright. We can do this your way.¡± Ker relents.


    ¡°There is the incorrigible friend.¡±


    ¡°Run while you can.¡± A passerby mutters.


    Over the next four days, I spend my waking hours on the festival grounds with Terfer. Ker complains endlessly about the absurdity of the tasks. He complains about Terefs'' meticulous nature, Terfers¡¯ yells, and even the handwriting getting mocked. One just says, ¡°Build the sign better.¡± Another directs us to fire someone. Ker whines through the whole thing. On the second day, I realize the popularity of Ker''s opinion.


    ¡°Don¡¯cha sees the bloody diagrams! This whole mess a stans needin¡¯ rebuildin¡¯ ey? Wonder how much it¡¯ll set us back?¡± A hammer-waving carpenter defends me in my duties.


    ¡°Damn ya and ya diagram. Most of''em built like this. We should just leave it?¡± A person in a gray smock yells at me and the carpenter.


    ¡°Terfer told me-¡± I try again.


    ¡°¡®Leave it, ¡®ey says, ¡®take my damn diagram and shove it, ¡®ey says. Ya¡¯ill fix this less I¡¯ll be fixin¡¯ you.¡± They threaten, still waving said hammer.


    ¡°Leave ''em alone. It¡¯s all these damn details Terfer frets over, don¡¯t make a lick of difference,¡± An onlooker adds.


    ¡°An¡¯ who ask you?¡± Grey smock returns.


    ¡°What¡¯s this fuss?¡± Terfer interjects.


    ¡°These idits can¡¯t read.¡± Hammer Waver announces.


    ¡°What is your problem with the diagram?¡± Terfer seeks.


    ¡°We built these without the forward facin¡¯ cupboards, see¡ª look, here¡¯s the diagram; clear as day.¡±


    ¡°Simply fixed. We will use these elsewhere and have the stands rebuilt.¡± Terfer determines my previous plan.


    ¡°Why do we need to do that? Sr, it¡¯ll be more work for us,¡± Grey Smock pleads.


    ¡°For the good of the festival and its goers.¡± Terfer proclaims.


    Ker quits that day, being replaced by a similarly ignorant tourist. Ker asks me to leave and pouts when I refuse, but he isn¡¯t profoundly wounded. The money is worth the work. I understood that my coworkers don¡¯t like Terfer, but what of those who did? The fairgrounds empty at dusk. I am passing through when a sight halts me. Terfer sits on a crate in the middle of the desolate city of tents¡ª weeping?


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I request, walking up from behind them.


    ¡°Oh. Vesh, I didn''t hear you there.¡±


    ¡°I don''t mean to intrude. I can go.¡±


    ¡°No¡ª Don¡¯t be silly. It¡¯s beautiful. The beginning of a generation on its path to enlightenment. Creation speaks through me, and this is the culmination of that speech.¡±


    ¡°I guess I haven¡¯t taken the time to appreciate Creation in this.¡±


    ¡°You should, as you should with all things. Let not time wither away your eye in anything, my friend.¡± They advise, gesturing to a box beside them and proffering a metal cup.


    ¡°I will heed your words,¡± I promise, sitting next to them and taking the drink.


    ¡°It¡¯s a proverb? But I can¡¯t blame you there. You lasted longer than most.¡±


    ¡°I have? I can¡¯t see why; you¡¯re a delight to work for.¡±


    ¡°That I am.¡±


    ¡°Why did you have them rebuild the stands?¡± I query after a moment of sipping sounds.


    ¡°Those shelves on the bottom of the stand are essential. The woodworkers put toys there for the children who attend the fair.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let this chance or any go by without consideration. It is what we owe to those who can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I will do what I can.¡±


    ¡°As will we all.¡±


    We drink and talk into the night, reliving horror stories from the last few days, seeking shared pasts, dreams, or fears. A crack reveals the person underneath perfection. Tefer''s devotion normalizes my goals in some reassuring way. Accomplishment itself is discarded, in his view, by the imperative to be without reservation.

 Chapter 6

    I awake in clouds with the sun soaking my face. I want to go with them, though I have to wake up. It is the first day of the festival, meaning preliminary matches. The wash rag scratches my skin as the tepid water soothes it. I fumbled as I buttoned my tunic and had to start again after realizing I¡¯d misbuttoned it. I find Jer, Gale, and Ker awaiting my arrival with stern looks on their faces.


    ¡°About time, Vesh. You¡¯ll have to eat rations.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t I eat real food?¡± I argue.


    ¡°If you had woken earlier,¡± Jer informs.


    ¡°Sorry, I was¡ª up late with¡ª Terfer.¡± I excuse myself, rubbing the drunk from my eyes with one hand and eating with the other.


    ¡°Oh? Kept you up, did they?¡± Ker guesses.


    ¡°Not like that. We talked.¡±


    ¡°A lot of time to talk to an ass.¡± Ker retorts.


    ¡°A lot. They have a wise perspective for an-¡±


    ¡°We have to go.¡± Jer interrupts, pushing us both to the door.


    ¡°You don''t have to wait for me.¡± I protest.


    Whatever reply Jer gives drowns under the wave of people crashing upon us. Moving with the crowd is only a choice once it spills us into the fair. Where last night stood an empty vessel, I now understand all that Terfer wept for. Potential rushes from booth to booth in search of a future. Creation blesses this day through these people.


    Following the directions brings us to a field of people. The area¡¯s obstinance to the order of the rest of the festival annoys me. Instead of putting the pits in orderly rows, they are messy. Two people fight as a moderator attends them. Adding to the chaos, thousands of milling spectators place bets while inspecting contestants. Prominent booths lined by contenders allow another unwilling acclimation of the city.


    I hand my paper to the attendant, an older, tall person hunching to reach the window, who returns it with the number fifteen. The designation corresponds to a sign above the pit I am competing in. Jer huffs once we clear the crowd, walking to pit twelve before limbering up. Other competitors in the area blanch, finding no security in the sight of my friend brandishing a fourteen-kilogram sword.


    The pits are too tight for one person to lay down. The spectators jeer from a meter off. Sand cushions the ground just enough to prevent bludgeoning. Jer¡¯s call comes first, prompting him to step into the ring. Their opponent''s knees appear to be shaking. Exactly seven seconds after the match begins, it ends with Jer hurling them several meters clear of the circle.  Jer¡¯s laughing or barking awards him a slip from the moderator before he goes off to crush more dreams.


    Ker¡¯s match begins next, with him shuffling opposite a shorter person with stable steps. The black coat and curved blade mark them as a Skirmisher. An Eastern mercenary is a poor first match. The person''s face is light for that region, with a button for a nose and closer together eyes than you see in the north. As Ker¡¯s sword shakes, displaying his weakness, the skirmisher grins. They rush Ker as soon as the moderator begins the match. Ker raises his sword in a guard on unsure footing. That curved blade shears through his guard, slamming into his chest and knocking him to the ground.


    ¡°Killing blow.¡± The moderator calls.


    Heat pinches Ker¡¯s cheeks while sadness cools them. I tut, going over to comfort him. I argue the incredible skill of the mercenary; they grew up in a militant sanctum, no doubt. These observations soften the edges but do little for the core. Ker wails at his loss. Hearing my number, I leave him to Gale¡¯s ministrations.


    The first three matches are nothing compared to my time with Jer. They end with something unsatisfying as my mind drifts in the breaks. I grow a few millimeters taller after each win,


    My last opponent is already in the circle, a shorter person with curly purple hair in a topknot. Mahogany eyes strike the first blow, belying soft features. Their clothing is finery but unadorned; the sunflower yellow of the garment reeks of high caste. It is almost enough to distract from the short sword in their right hand and a dagger in their left.


    ¡°I am Vesh¡¯dan,¡± I call, flourishing my wooden rapiers into a boisterous guarding stance.


    ¡°I am Shannai, daughter of Sheikh Sage.¡±


    Fuck, did she say Sheikh? The moderators call coils me into a cobra. There are three factors to consider: the limited space or the clear maneuverability implied by her stance and choice of blades are imposing enough alone. Those factors worsen under her lineage; she is a Sage. My stance precludes a charge, allowing my defense to gauge her skill and speed. The only downside is this edge. I have to be aware of the borderline. If I cross outside of the sand, I fail¡ª again¡ª


    The festival fades as my heartbeat duels with hers. At this moment, it could be over before beginning¡ª Failing this early would be ¡ª Shannai dives at my chest and moves faster than my eyes can follow. Slapping into her shortsword with my blade assists me in my parry. My other blade utilizes the hilt guard to block her dagger from sneaking under her thrust. Clearing her attack, I shift to the right and lower my stance further. She steals my breath, slashing her sword and dagger against both of mine. She creeps into my defense after a few strikes while her heart beats louder. She is better than me. I will have to use my trick. Using it doesn''t ruin it, but the more I use it, the less surprising it will ultimately be.


    I continue on the defensive, waiting for an opening. The sage decides for me by disarming my left hand before directing a stab toward my heart. Time slows as I contort to reach my dagger. The movement pivots my chest as far as I can to the left. I¡¯m attempting to avoid her fatal blow, but her dagger trails in step. That is bad¡ª but it distracts her from the dagger now in my hand. I drop my other blade to grab her shoulder, stabbing myself. I pull her to me, forcing the pointy bit into my gut. I take my left hand and press my dagger into the middle of her back. We both still pressed up against each other. However, our hearts are battling louder than ever.


    ¡°Freeze! Okay, Brunette, move your hand¡ª slowly! Idiot. Now separate¡ª slowly, and please don''t move your hand, Sr Sage. Alright, your strike wouldn¡¯t disallow the move. I¡¯ll have to get a second opinion, but I believe it to be a draw.¡± The moderator rules, calling to a runner nearby.


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    The moments of waiting unravel the ruling and all that it implies. What if it gets overturned? The runner promptly returns with an older person. After hearing the fight''s conclusion and examining the ''wounded'' areas, the more wrinkly moderator agrees with the initial ruling. I breathe again and look at my competitor, who is shaking, too.


    ¡°My apologies.¡± I croak.


    ¡°You¡¯re fine; you spooked me, is all.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Well¡ª there''s little else to combat you with.¡±


    ¡°All right. It¡¯s a neat trick. It won''t work long, with the way people gab. I bet they would even imagine a rule against it if you tricked the wrong person.¡±


    ¡°Would you be one of those wrong people?¡±


    ¡°Nah, people like me, but with supportive backing.¡±


    I return to a lone Ker. He retells the match I participated in. However absurd, it still puts a smile on my face. Upon winning, I qualify for the preliminaries with the final three hundred applicants. The people in this tournament who are on par with Ker will lose in the preliminaries. I fear I am in the lower tier of those who would remain¡ª or I believe I am. The final matches will be decided in the Colosseum over the next two days, under the watchful eye of scouts from merc guilds. I have already achieved this opportunity, where a good showing can open doors to places.


    Ker and I meet Jer at the gates leading into the city. He wins each fight in under a minute, eliciting interest from scouts already. I go to bed early, ready to experience the fair tomorrow. I wake before the rush of people to enjoy a heavy breakfast of savory gravy, fluffy biscuits, and roasted vegetables. Entering the festival, we visit the guild tents for Ker and I. He looks over all the food-related guilds before finding the one he likes. Ker¡¯s bow is a bit too deep but still conveys the effect.


    ¡°I am Kerten, son of Holia.¡±


    ¡°Hello, young one. I am Hilda, child of Fare.¡±


    ¡°I would like to study with your guild.¡±


    ¡°With that house, you shouldn¡¯t have a problem. Here are directions to the prerequisite testing room where you can test for this specialization. You cannot retake the test until you complete one year of study in the major field.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    ¡±Good luck.¡±


    ¡°What exactly is this specialization, Ker?¡± Jer asks.


    ¡°That¡¯s a stand for a prominent pastry guild.¡±


    I scan endless paths, wondering from this future to that, determining devastation in the prospects. I envy Ker''s ease and how he suits the trappings born on him.


    Cartography promises adventure or renown; the younger person at the booth sells domineering contracts with far-off rewards. After that, several trading guilds insist, ¡®I sell my worth¡¯ to earn acceptance, which I refuse. Next, at a diplomatically associated stand, I am undiplomatically advised of my inability to afford the endeavor. The same is true for the three mage booths in the area, all guarded by hordes of upper caste. All fussing about with embroidered clothes and expensive yellow dyes.


    Finding little that interests me, I continue doubting myself. I want to go past the walls, meet my mother, gain an understanding that I can bring back to my kingdom, and seize beauty through creation as Terfer has. Again, I consider trying to accomplish my goals without any formal training or guild certification. Again, I curse the difficulty of the undertaking. For now, I need to focus on the tournament.


    We don¡¯t need to be at the Colosseum till noon, so we spend our time walking the touristy sides of the fair. We stroll, inhaling fried dough and besting tests of strength and accuracy. Such games are known to be unwinnable. If that is true, no one has warned Jer or the games he mangles with ease. We laugh at the antics of Satyr in Dorian¡¯s Satire, commendably performed in the main path.


    ¡°She embodies femininity; paragons envy her prominence.¡± The Satyr, Renaldo Corporia, shouts as he caresses his chest.


    ¡°You speak of Terpel-¡± The diplomat, Aria, daughter of Sheik Sage, begins before Ranaldo interrupts.


    ¡°That is her name, for it rings of femininity. At a glance, I found my love, the woman who has become mine to rear my young. How may I own her?¡± He employs, pulling forth his penis for good measure.


    ¡°Uhhh.¡± The poor noble stammers, looking to the uproarious crowd for support.


    ¡°I know it is probably larger than you have seen before. I have a large penis that makes me strong. The forests lead with our biggest dick first, if you know what I am saying.¡± He explains, still holding the flopping prop.


    ¡°Sr, I don¡¯t th-¡±


    ¡°You mustn''t look so closed off, all rigid. How can you be a diplomat with that demeanor? What am I to think of your Empire when their diplomats-¡±


    ¡°Sr, Terpelit is a man who is not attracted to that.¡± The renowned line rings with reciprocation, filling the street with laughter as The Styr stutters his befuddlement with pants still around his ankles.


    Our fun cuts short as we make our way to the pivotal trial. Four entrances are outside, three by people and one with a sign reading: contestants. We part ways with Ker and Lisen, heading to our designation. I greet the person at the gate and give them my slip as they wave me past. People jostle about the room, some waiting with blank stares or fidgeting fists, others articulate forms. Jer and Gale join the latter, melting into forms and breathing techniques. I plop alongside the former, calming my mind by thinking of a strategy to deal with each weapon on the wall. A staturous person with thick glasses enters from the back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need only a moment of your time, assuming everyone is familiar with dueling conduct?¡± They begin, looking for affirmation. People watch wordlessly while the more severe opponents continue to prepare. ¡°Good. The only difference between these upcoming matches and your previous ones is the amulets I¡¯ve got here. Once in the arena, every contact made with a weapon will feel like the real thing. A death blow or accumulated wounds will render you unconscious upon succumbing. I hope there are no questions?¡± They conclude, silence prompting them to exit.


    Soon enough comes the call for Jerduan. I fume, wishing I¡¯d been able to see his match. Gale is next. She concludes her tenth willow form in a huff, her stance more unstable than usual. My palms leak onto my pants as I wipe them on the medium-weight linen. This fight is no different than the others. I am going to succeed. I have worked hard, and it will pay off. Sweat bathes the bench in the stink of my fear. I fight to oppress my anxiety with supposed defenses against a flimsy scimitar atop a polearm¡ª my name comes. I burst into fire, standing so abruptly that I rock the bench and displace two people who don''t smile back. Quickly apologizing, I shuffle to the door at the room''s far end. I step cautiously up a hallway, rising into the light.


    Will rules body.


    I take a deep breath and emerge into the open; upon crossing the threshold, feet pound through my chest to trample my heart. The stands are half full, but the noise is deafening. The arena is a hundred meters from one end to the other. Gray stone composes seven-meter walls entrapping me with spectators overlooking the seats cresting them. They are staring at me from all around. I search for a friendly face, but decerning anyone with the spring sun burning my eyes proves impossible.


    My body stutters before I reach my spot. My opponent stands a foot taller than me, brandishing a greatsword in a ready stance. They wear an insignia marking them as Hilltrope, making them the second opponent from a great family. Blocking out everything but my target and the sand, I take my ready stance.


    ¡°Here we have Vesh¡¯dan, hailing from Willows Grove, opposed by local Silmon, child of Steel. We will have a clean fight until death is determined. Acknowledge your opponent. Begin.¡±


    Realizing they want me to come to them, I start forward briskly, picking up at the halfway mark. Within an appropriate range, I throw myself under the first attack. I barely avoid it as I emerge behind them. I stretch a backward prod that tears at their chain shirt, then shift to face them. A slice interrupts my retreat, but I dip it and push off the wall. I receive a backhand upon my exit. I crash to the ground, and they are next to me, their sword plunging. I roll, but I am too slow. A wail elicits from my lungs, their sword claiming a portion of flesh. I jump up and cradle my broken arm.


    ¡°Death-¡± The moderator begins, but they stop as I stay consciously upright.


    I can still do this. I rip off my shirt to make a sling and tourniquet to staunch the imaginary, or possibly internal, bleeding. My arm burns with a ticklish intensity. I grit my teeth and hold up my remaining rapier in a challenge. Hoping to pull out thoughtless rage, I get a loathing glare instead as they methodically swat away my attacks. Due to my decreased capability, I must retract to a guarding stance before long. Heat trickles into their face as I keep away. Am I wearing them out? Some of their swings get partial hits, but I stay outside fatality. I can do this.


    With my arm in this condition, I won¡¯t last much longer. I already feel my focus dimming. Moving becomes a fight for survival, each forceful breath challenging the looming fate. Their thrust slips through my guard, stabbing into my side. My ribs snap, and my skeleton curdles. I step back from the strike, stumble, and vomit. My eyes water over as my lips burn with the passing.


    I can do this. After not hearing the fatal words, I lift my head and wobble, catching myself in a low stance. I hone in on my advisory through the mess and find pure disgust on their face. I smile, chunks of vomit mixed with blood to discolor the effect. My legs tremble as I march on my obstacle. I thrust out, feeling my second wind. Only one jab connects and, again, only snags their shirt. My attack sparks a rebuttal. When their sword connects with mine, their follow-through tatters my guard and follows through my ankle. The crack of bones reverberates, and I roll sideways into the sand. I can¡¯t do this-


    I am in the reeds. A panther¡¯s roar rumbles my pulse as they ready a pounce. My body won''t respond, nothing will move, nothing makes sense. When did I get here? To the willows, that is? I have to get up. I am unsure why or how, but I know the first thing to do is stand. I have to move. Putting my arm under myself and crying, I push myself to my knees. From there, I use my sword to stand. The roaring stops. Input stops. Knowledge is my goal in front of me. I take a step forward onto my ankle and falter.


    Doing away with walking, fed up with the eccentricities, I drag myself to where I know it is. The clearness on where or why I am going isn¡¯t as specific, but I will go if only to keep those damn panthers quiet. I tear myself across miles until I finally clasp what I want. I seize the thing, squirming to leverage a hold. I receive several painful stuff on my face in the process. I lose progress, then start again. Pain is existence. Focusing on the unrelenting agony disassociates all but my goal, which is associated with relief. I climb up this unknowable thing to do something¡ª to be something. Before I can get to the top to do whatever I intend, my body fails where my will couldn¡¯t. I give one last involuntary shudder of defiance; then everything turns to night.

 Chapter 7

    Consciousness is a sheet draping my face; light and noise come through in scraps. Aches seep into my stupor and stain it in a dingy discomfort. Intermittent flutters of familiar and strange faces punctuate my unending fall. I try to move and find that my body stays. It''s not that I can''t physically move; it''s more like I¡¯m trying to push against something. This rebellion drains my faint fight and pulls me back under the sheet. These are puzzles for an older, more discerning me; I have an endless fall to resume.


    White fills my vision. I attempt and fail to blink away the soreness. I look around on rusty gear for a neck as soft groans pop unbidden from my lips. I am in a white room from floor to ceiling; all four ligaments hung from the bed''s poles. Jer precariously lays atop three chairs scooched next to each other. His snore clatters through the ambient clacking and chattering coming from somewhere. Neither the bindings nor my body allow an ascertainment of the noise¡¯s source. It is okay. Jer is here, so this will be okay. They can¡¯t know-


    The last match tears a pit in my stomach as it shatters my confusion. Unless a miracle hurdled out of the sky to crush my undamaged opponent, I''d lost. I have failed. Though I have been mentally preparing myself for this outcome, the defeat¡ª anguish tumbles from my chin, and contempt constricts my throat. All the years I have spent training and working, all the things I have gone without focusing on, and all the miles I have run¡ª now a loss. Jer shoots up, ready to fight, but instead beholds my vulnerable form. I wail feebly against the straps, and Jer¡¯s fury evaporates as he descends on me. He sits on the bed and pets my head, a quiet comfort leaking from him, filling the cracks in my future.


    ¡°You did so well,¡± He cooes once I start.


    ¡°I am a failure. How can I-¡± I sob.


    ¡°You are not. You are a person who did much better than most.¡±


    We stay like this, him radiating confidence and strength, me warming from despair. He has this effect on me. His consolation allows me to express myself and feel comfort. It makes sense why he won, and I have not. I am not strong eno-


    ¡°Wait!¡± ¡ªsniff¡ª ¡°how long has it been? Did you win your match?¡± I start after sniffing away my sobs.


    ¡°Not long, and obviously.¡±


    ¡°That is great. You are in the finals. When is the match?¡±


    ¡°Shit! I have to go.¡± He curses, bolting from the room after catching the sun''s height.


    ¡°Stop running!¡± Someone admonishes, entering from a door behind me. ¡°Oh, you are conscious. You''re speaking? Check. Are you experiencing any severe pain in your head?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Are you seeing or hearing things that are not real?¡±


    ¡°How will I know if they are not real?¡±


    ¡°They will be out of place. They are voices of unseen people, strange occurrences, or actions of a similar nature,¡± the voice of the person I can''t see explains.


    ¡°Well, I sure hope not.¡± I attempt to turn my head, pulling against restraints.


    ¡°We just have to ensure the treatment has no unforeseen side effects before we finish with you.¡±


    ¡°That sounds ominous.¡±


    ¡°It is routine. If you will let me continue, hallucinations?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Rectal pain?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Eye bleeding?¡±


    ¡°Fuck, no. Wouldn¡¯t you see that better than me?¡± I burst.


    ¡°Well, that should be enough."


    The cloth shackles containing me crack as she presses a symbol on the pole, sprawling me across the bed. Bones and joints screech upon landing. My arm is my first concern. Where before was a useless mess, blemishless skin stares back. I should have been halfway to death with weeks of travel to get around, and instead, I am sore but whole.


    ¡°How did you do this?¡±


    ¡°That is not something I can speak about.¡±


    ¡°Well, thank you. I could have died.¡±


    ¡°From what I hear, you nearly did.¡±


    The offhand comment speaks volumes of my situation and theirs. Moments from the arena come back to me, the blaze that had propelled me to continue, the hopeless fury that seeing my failure brought. I could have died railing against inadequacy. Shame joins the mix of repressible shortcomings. I have lost at every turn. I have underestimated every challenge and overestimated myself. All I want stands before me, and I can''t keep up. The tears are still close to the surface, but I blink them away.


    I don''t have time to kick myself. For all I know, Jer is already fighting; therefore, I am running. I am up too quickly. Gingerly adjusting gets me to the counter and clothes on my body. I don''t have time to marvel at the glass walls or the giant water feature in the likeness of a bear. Eventually, the spectators¡¯ entrance is in sight under half an hour later. Have I gotten here in time to see Jer¡¯s match?


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    Admittance only costs a couple of copper. A large circular staircase behind the entrance ascends me to the stands. Uncomfortable stone seats stretch for tens of rows, fuller than at my match. Rooms are visible behind the furthest benches, each with a glass wall that obscures the inside. I lift my chin to see the whole arena. After assuring myself that Jer is not one of the two combatants, I look for my friends in the stands, spotting them after several minutes.


    ¡°Did I miss his match?¡± I ask, walking up and sitting down.


    ¡°No. How about you? That duel was just so-¡± Ker trails off, looking to me for approval.


    ¡°I would rather not talk about it¡ªfor now, at least,¡± I deflect, carving a smile on my face.


    ¡°That¡¯s okay¡ª I just think you did well.¡± Ker mumbles.


    ¡°Let¡¯s focus on Jer and Gale. Tell me, Gale, how did you do in your match yesterday?¡±


    ¡°Well, yesterday was a tough fight against this person with a polearm. They kept me away while they were cutting into me. I snapped the thing in half, and they surrendered after that. Today''s match kind of sucked; they were just better than me. After a few minutes, I knew I would lose. I tried to showcase my strengths with the last of it, and I almost thought I could make it,¡± She pauses, but with a nudge from Lisen, she continues, ¡°I gave them a fight. I put everything I had into those last few minutes, and it was enough. I got the word today. You¡¯re now looking at a new Veebel of the Tartu house.¡±


    ¡°Gale! That is amazing! When does your commission start?¡±


    ¡°A week. Sending me off to bolster the Wall.¡±


    ¡°Really? At least it isn¡¯t some kingdom or bandit business. Are you nervous?¡±


    ¡°It is an adjustment, but this is what I want.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be joining her, keeping the peace and all,¡± Lisen adds.


    ¡°Oh? In what way?¡± I ask.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, you and Lisen never talk. Vesh probably still thinks you¡¯re from a northern village.¡± Gale mocks.


    ¡°I did,¡± I admit.


    ¡°I was in some northern villages doing work and came down with the horde. I do humanitarian visits. I travel around aimlessly.¡±


    ¡°She is so full of it; she healed your arm; she is a saint.¡± Gale boasts, whispering the middle bit.


    ¡°You can''t even whisper it.¡± Lisen admonishes.


    ¡°Thank you. I hope you two write.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not entirely your fault. Lisen turns into an awkward mess in front of Jerd-¡±


    ¡°Gale!¡± Lisen objects, covering Gale¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°I got you. Jerduan has that effect. Ker, tell him how he did.¡± Gale directs.


    ¡°Well, it was just great. Jer comes wreathed in chainmail and tosses it off. You would think he would keep it on, but instead,¡ª he throws it away like he doesn¡¯t care. The crowd favors him already. The other one wasn¡¯t interested in the crowd, and they could feel that, you know? Anyway, the fight is tense. Jer is pushing into their guard, but they keep just out of reach. At one point, it seemed like Jer would lose, but he gets this strength in the last moments and pow. Over just like that.¡±


    ¡°That is amazing, truly by the skin of his feet.¡± I needle, not buying the show.


    ¡°Teeth,¡± Ker mumbles a correction.


    The current match ends with the katana wielder slicing through the abdomen of a person with a couple of shortswords. Katana is from a noble family and performs a show similar to Jers''s. Most spots go to noble families, which is how the tournament works. Nobility is a peerage that comes with little in the way of hard power, though this does not stop them from using soft power to monopolize opportunity. They then hoard that power. This practice isn¡¯t a problem seen in the north. Places like Brinx and Willows Grove honor accomplishment, not lineage. The person I faced was a noble among nobles.


    Jer emerges with a cape of chainmail atop his muscular body. He wears his grin like a crown as his arms raise to the cheers. I scream along, pounding my feet. His challenger enters from the other side, their bristles pointing at Jer¡¯s show. Looking closer, I can see that it''s the woman I fought in the first match of the preliminaries, Shannai Sage. Her stance is low, with a firm grip on her blades. Jer prances to his position, reveling in the jubilation of the crowd. The moderator steps between them as Jer hits his mark.


    ¡°Jerduan, son of Steel, will now face Shannai, Daughter of Sheikh Sage, until determined death.¡±


    The moderator, stepping back, drops their hand. Jer advances, slides his grip, and swings. The crowd is on its feet as Jer opens. The gambit provides anyone in the way with ample reason to move. She deceptively ducks before leaping above the swing, propelling her sword toward his chest in a mid-air plank. He loosens his stance, leaning back to avoid the thrust. Shannai twists in the apex of her flip, landing behind Jer. He shifts and attempts to leverage the momentum of his blade, which stays in motion. She is too quick, however, scoring a hit on his back. He allows the blow, and his rebuttal pushes her to a manageable distance.


    I¡¯ve never seen Jer match so equally. I¡¯ve never seen him equaled at all. He embodies that which all look to for power, the pinnacle that can¡¯t fall. I thought back to the years of blood given to the cause¡ª tears given to the craft. He is the better of us, the moon that holds our dreams aloft. I have never questioned if he can succeed; in all my self-doubt and deprecation, he remained untouchable.


    Now, he is struggling. Confidence is missing from his step as he retreats. His face rains liquids as bulging muscles swim the sword in impossible ways. This strain keeps him up until Shannia moves impossibly¡ª I lose track of her. He reacts by following through with the miss while leaning against the weight of the sword in a twirl, stretching his body at an odd angle to dodge her blade. She appeared behind him. Jer¡¯s grip is loose, the attack too sudden, his swing goes wide, and the hilt slips from his hand. He remains unstabbed but loses the weapon for his troubles. She smiles and speaks to him. Nothing of what she says is audible over the crowd. Jer smiles while walking to her, smashing his fists together and shouting something back. The roar raises her foot in a cautionary retreat. Yet, she places it back down.


    Jer runs directly at her. A dagger snaps into his hands, and he drives it straight at her chest. She smacks the dagger aside but loses her guard. Jer grabs her sword hand and tosses her like a sack of feathers, and her sword remains with Jer. She soars five feet before slamming into the ground, sliding into a roll. The crowd cheers as the moderator approaches to check on her¡ª before they can, she stands. She looks at Jer with pure rage. Spitting blood onto the ground, she bellows loud enough to cut through the crowd.


    ¡°Another. Fucking. Dagger.¡±


    Confusion slants Jer¡¯s face as he tries to assemble something for which he only has half of the pieces. His confusion is superfluous as she appears a meter from him again and strikes out viciously. He''s ready this time, parrying her dagger with her pilfered sword. Each connection leads into the next as a hurricane is born. I can not make out half of the exchanges; my mind only registers their existence with a perpetual tally of clashing metal. He disarms her dagger, smashing his fist into her face before grabbing her vest and placing her sword to her throat.


    ¡°Deathblow!¡± The moderator calls.


    Jer raises her sword with a scream before prancing around. The crowd explodes with built anticipation. He shines under the praise, reveling in the moment he knew he could achieve. Pride ravages his face in a charade of red. I cheer as our new friends cheer beside me, and thousands of people cheer around us, reminding me of a panther¡¯s roar. Looking at the man who has accomplished everything we wanted, I see only the child who befriended me. He deserves all that will come of this and a friend that doesn''t feel jealous.


    We wait outside the competitors'' exit to congratulate Jer. Ker retells the match with commentary as we escort our champion to the nearest intoxicants. Amber ale wets the lips of parched participants. We indulge in roasted cauliflower with light ricotta tanging through sweet tomatoes. This trek continues across several taverns. My retelling of the tournament is contributed once enough booze is consumed. Jer makes out with ten people, using his victory to deadly effect. The parade ends at our tavern. Jer and I share a stoop in the alleyway.


    ¡°It feels like it¡¯s not even real, Vesh.¡±


    ¡°I know what you mean. I still haven¡¯t quite wrapped my head around it.¡± I agree, after considering the last few days.


    ¡°What do you think you will do now?¡±


    ¡°Probably look around the fair for the next few days. Maybe I¡¯ll visit down in Brinx; I¡¯m not sure. Either way, we won''t see too much of each other.¡±


    ¡°Vesh. Won''t you stay here? I¡¯ll miss you if you leave.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be busy in the Sanctum even if I stay, even if I find another profession,  your program is as inclusive as the mages. But I still plan on getting a certificate. The ¡®where¡¯ depends on what there is for me here. The tournament was always the means to an end, a way to envision me outside my father''s plan. In truth, I knew I could never win. It was always going to be you. And we were always going to be separated.¡±


    ¡°We still have our plans. An adventure to go on together.¡±


    ¡°That we do. For now, let¡¯s enjoy this night.¡±

 Chapter 8

    What am I to do now? Can I travel the world? Will there be any chance or place for me here? I could go home, but that would be the same as giving up. Is everything my father and Balduan predicted right? Did I risk my life for nothing? Such quandaries clog my head, varying degrees from pointless to life-altering. I mope about the fair for two whole days. There is little that I have yet to consider by the third day of Yaunz. On the fourth day, I resignedly marched to a mercantile booth when an older person in black robes approaches me.


    ¡°You are Vesh¡¯dan?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. I saw your match in the tournament. Quite a drive you have.¡±


    ¡°I am not sure that I would call it that. I¡¯d likely refer to it as a tantrum, if at all.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? From where I sat, you gave quite a good showing for those who know what to look for.¡±


    ¡°While I appreciate the compliment, my performance has not merited any offers.¡±


    ¡°All the better for me.¡±


    ¡°What is it that I can do for you?¡±


    "You see, I represent the senior staff of the Mage''s certification recruiters. After seeing your fortitude, we have grown interested in you."


    ¡°You want to offer me a job?¡± I hedge.


    ¡°What do you know of magic?¡±


    ¡°Uhh¡­ little, considering...¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep it brief. Strength, like that you displayed in the tournament, will allow you to be a skilled mage. You see, I am here to extend a formal invitation to you. This seal will allow you to take the preliminary exams.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I cannot afford those certifications, even if I pass.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Yes. That is something to consider. It is a rare chance, though. We do not often extend invitations to underclass people.¡±


    ¡°Well, thank you, sr¡ª mage?¡±


    ¡°The appropriate title is High Mage, R¨¹f¨¹s Castillo.¡±


    ¡°High Mage?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°Do high mages often extend invitations to apprentices?¡±


    ¡°They do not, and they are called initiates.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a good thing.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I look forward to seeing your exam. Here is your tube. Inside, you will find all the necessary directions. I must be going; it''s nice meeting you, Vesh¡¯dan..¡±


    ¡°To you as well, High Mage.¡±


    Details of my world blur together as I process what the retreating Mage told me¡ª High Mage. A mage certification, such fields are for people of means, not people like me. I miss a couple of steps or turns as the prospect overtakes any string of thought. The fear of failure is so fresh that my instinct is to shy away from the opportunity, but I still recognize it as such. I should have asked questions, but will I go?


    I can''t pass. I find my way back to the Inn under the barrage. Informing everyone as they arrive gains some level of normalcy. Their reactions lend to the reality of the interaction. None of them are willing to interpret the abnormality.


    ¡°If you aren¡¯t worried about seers, why not try? We can figure out the money.¡± Jer suggests, taking the affair best.


    ¡°I probably couldn¡¯t even pass.¡±


    ¡°Vesh, you are clever. Why not try?¡± Jer persuades.


    The seers are a problem, but I can''t let that ever-present ghoul restrict my plan. No, I would have to avoid them no matter where I go. Will the gains from it be worth the risk? The skills may be helpful, but they may also be worthless. Moreover, if I don¡¯t produce money with those skills, I could only manage tuition for a year, with the money that should last three. That is assuming I can even pass a test made for the nobility, but I¡¯ll never know until I try.


    My conclusion forms with Jer¡¯s help. Leaving an intervening five hours of pacing before I am off to the academy campus, curling a ring of concentric circles around a centermost tower, and the student housing occupies the outer ring. The following loop is tall white buildings used for classes. The colorful streets degrade into a field of white as I reach the second innermost ring. There''s little in the way of furnishings, half a dozen empty benches, and a counter. I approach the latter as a person storms from the back room. They grab several papers, turn around, notice me, come to a halt, then turn back.


    ¡°Hello, who are you?¡± Flings from their mouth.


    ¡°I am Vesh¡¯dan, potential mage initiate?¡±


    ¡°Oh? Follow me,¡± they grumble, then mutter, ¡°another pleb.¡±


    Opening the door left of the counter, they lead me down a long hallway. It isn''t so much that the hallway is impressive; its white stone is plain. The lighting pauses me. In this one hallway, there are twenty glow gems. My entire town saved a hundred gold to buy one. Fidgets ensue as the doubt in me rears. I follow several turns, some of which seem impossible considering the size of the building. And there are even more glow gems? What made me think I could succeed in this thing? What training do I have? And if I fail again? The weight presses on my heart. Our incongruence ends at a black door. They stop in front of it and turn to me as they gesture.


    ¡°Go in there.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡ª Is there anything I need to know before going in?¡±


    ¡°That is not allowed.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Obviously.¡± I agree stupidly after a thought.


    Aside from the shrinking sliver cast by the door closing behind me, nothing is visible inside. Its clicking seal cast me into darkness. I commence with an inch forward, and then my steps clear a meter. There is an ever-present foreboding that I am about to walk into something. Echoes of my tread stifle before returning. After a few moments with no discernible change, I stop.


    Is this the test? It is just a dark room. What can be determined? I can''t see anything, but that''s only one input. No specific aroma is present. Jumping with my hands in the air, I don¡¯t feel a ceiling. These factors leave the floor as the only surface I can interact with. I pat across the floor until I find a small notch. The crevice reveals itself to be an arrow upon inspection. I follow the arrow¡¯s point, intermittently checking the ground with similar results until they stop. I can either move back or keep moving in the direction they last pointed. Or does the distance between the arrows lengthen as you get closer to whatever they point to?


    I continue until I cross another arrow. Finding it is a relief¡ª although, with a slight hiccup, it points behind me. I reconsider my position. What is here that I can work with? The arrows are only a piece of the puzzle. Following a path perpendicular to the leads me to several more. By the fifth, I see the curve. This discovery means an outer perimeter of arrows pointing into the circular arrowless area.


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    I spend hours searching through the area, finding absolutely nothing. I give up for the fourth time, fingering an arrow as I huddle on my butt. This exam is something I have no business doing. My conclusion may be wrong. I am a tree floating in the ocean. Farmers don¡¯t become mages. Stations can¡¯t ascend. People don¡¯t find the lost who haven¡¯t returned. I calm my breathing, focus, and stand.


    Another approach appears in the clarity. I lean down to scratch the arrow with a copper bit, moving along the perimeter, marking each one until I return to the first. I then turn around, counting my steps. One hundred sixty later, I reach the other side.


    With another four marks on the ground at seventy steps, repeating this three times on opposite ends of the perimeter. I create a marked-off center to scour the floor in scratches. Hours later, I find an indent so tiny needles are envious. At first, it is a grain of sand. Scratching the surface reveals it to be less solid than the surroundings. I pull my knife and dig into the ground. The floor crumbles between my fingers. I cut away enough to reveal a gap hardly the width of my arm. My arm edges into the hole, touching something smooth and cold. A touch further, and there is some kind of etching on the surface¡ª


    A jerk yanks on my arm, pulling the fibers inside out.


    I awake in a pool of still water. Dim light pervades as my reorienting senses rebound. The water prickles at my skin. I find myself in a cave full of bugs. The flying beetles let off a blue luminescence in flashes. I reorient my circumstances slowly. The entire cavern is littered with pools of crystal clear water, all spouting from a rock near me. I shamble to the source for a drink. However, my drink fails to satisfy as a low growl shakes the cave.


    I turn as the lights in the room switch to red. My hand moves to the rapier at my waist. I find it, but I don¡¯t remember having it earlier. An unnatural lack of light ungulates forward, coming to me. Crouching down, I press my body against the wall as I attempt to slither away. As it flows, I notice a tunnel in the area previously occupied by the cloud of darkness. The darkness drifts closer, now a meter off, now centimeters away. The light from the beetles snuffs out as the being overcomes them. I can feel the heat of my body pulling from me as it passes. Now it is past, and now I can breathe.


    Each footfall is exact. Every movement is precise. Twenty paces from the tunnel, a loose rock reveals my bravado with a splash. I run, with no time to check the darkness. Cracks clap through me as the cave shatters. My body collides with the wall as I scramble into the tunnel. A slick residue smelling of sugary acid coats everything. A beetle in my path feeds on it with a little curled tongue. Gurgling pops bite at my heels, and prickles drive into my skin as I crawl further and further in a shrinking tunnel. Within moments, I can feel both sides with my shoulders. Had I made the wrong decision?


    I am falling into the tunnel, sucking through. I collide with water and sink in as it invades my nose. I fight to the surface, gulping up air when I surface¡ª


    The sky is wrong. It isn¡¯t vital to notice, but the sinfulness is unignorable. Little spots of twinkling lights surround colorful clouds. The majesty is perfectly foreign. It stuns me into such a state that I start sinking momentarily. How can there be lights in the sky? Are they pieces of a moon? Or little moons? Pulling air into my lungs, I swing my feet up to float on my back. My feet kick as I look up into the mess. I stare at them for too long, each gleam poking a hole in the darkness of my universe. After a while, I decipher three pictures in the lights: a sword, a serpent, and a belt.


    Reason postulates that I can interpret these images. Any classification I give will endow them with purpose. Or I may be seeing things. A sword is simple, a serpent less so, but the belt stands out. My first choice is the foremost because it is the only distinctive of the three. Yet, Creation teaches us to nurture what we care for and express truly. I like belts because they help people hold things up. Belts are always practical choices.


    I position myself for the swim, frequently taking breaks and floating while re-adjusting my course. The first few hours take their toll, and the next, even more so. Seven hours after that, I think about quitting constantly. My arms pull from their bones as my legs twist into knots while my mouth fills with water again. I continue, pulling every ounce from myself to do so.


    Why am I doing this? Why am I putting myself through this? Why do I not just give up? I knew I couldn¡¯t succeed. Yet my body continues propelling me through the water. The only salvation in this tumult is the thought I work to suppress, the ideas hanging from the edge of my world tilting everything. Is she out there? Does she wonder about me like I do about her? Does she regret choosing to abandon me? If I only knew what had happened, if my father had told me, but that¡¯s forbidden.


    The truths that could absolve me stay out of reach, as everything is out of my reach. I overlook the shore until it slides underneath my body. My changing gears flail ashore. My hands press down, but I can¡¯t lift my body; kicking my legs does nothing either. I fall unconscious in the sand with waves lapping up all my exertion. It is a breezy summer''s eve after a day of play while the willows dance as I drift away.


    Wax encases my muscles. The shell cracks as I wake, revealing tenderness underneath. I groan in protest, successfully lifting my head as the lights spin above. Calming breaths help me to stand for the next challenge. The beach is a few hundred meters across, and in its center towers a willow tree. Or the island is the tree. I walk up to it, Crooking my neck to see the vastness of it. I see willows every day, yet never one a tenth of this size. It transcends all around in a still sea. As beautiful as it is, I can''t see anything that will lead me further. Did I choose the wrong path? Unless I have to go to every picture to finish this. This idea stops me in my tracks. I don¡¯t want to swim anymore.


    Walking around the island, I find nothing on or around the tree. After several attempts to climb it, I sit at the base, catching my breath. On a whim, I take out my dagger with a look at the roots spreading out from its base. Surely it can¡¯t be so easy? A blow rivaling Jer¡¯s rocks me upon placing my ear to the hilt. Information pierces into me, pieces of pictures that are incomprehensible. Colors flash in my vision, every color burning with a taste of roasting gran. Drool drips onto my arm as the jolts shudder me, convulsing my body. I hold on. Then there is white with a clear ring. Then there is darkness. Then there is peace.


    I am in a chair surrounded by people in robes of several colors. I don''t wake up; it is more like my consciousness shifts into a different place. The feeling is like a hangover, but only in my mind. A person in white shines a light into my left eye, moving it back and forth.


    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± They ask, snapping in my face.


    ¡°It¡¯s rude to snap in people''s faces,¡± I mumble, trying to pull my hand to my head. ¡°Fuck, these again,¡± I sputter, pulling against familiar restraints.


    ¡°It is okay. Just relax,¡± one of the robed figures attempts to assure me.


    ¡°Why not? Such a relaxing way to find oneself,¡± I ask, gesturing around.


    ¡°Transference can be disassociating.¡±


    ¡°Can you get me out of this?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s better.¡±


    ¡°We need you to stay here. Someone will be along to gather you.¡± They finish, rushing out with the other robed figures.


    ¡°It is nice to see you, too.¡± I thank myself, falling asleep as my head touches the chair.


    ¡°Wake up.¡± Someone shouts, shaking me.


    ¡°I regret coming here,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°Quiet, insolent whelp.¡±


    Age curls the face of the person in black robes standing before me. Distaste is a placeholder for emotion in a worn nook between their glare. Long golden blond hair covers cold blue eyes judging me. They hold themselves with a pride I have not seen, back straight enough to look down their nose at anyone.


    ¡°My apologies, Mage. What can I do for you?¡± I smile with little sincerity.


    ¡°It is High Mage. Follow me if you can manage it.¡± They sneer back, showing me mastery of the practice.


    They exit the room in a huff, black robes trailing behind. My body paces with ease as no soreness remains from the test. They fast walk down several corridors before a door leading to an atrium. The tapestries lining the walls depict glowing symbols. Cold white marble composes every surface as people in robes rush in all directions. Finally, we arrive at a room full of older mages in various colored robes. A podium sits in front of rows of chairs on a circular platform. The effect of this is that they all surround me from a higher vantage. Mages glare down on me as I follow my navigator onto the platform. They turn, gesturing to the podium before taking their seat. Once I reach the designated spot, a voice erupts.


    ¡°I call this special assembly of the recruitment board to order. I am the Sr Mage presiding over this assembly, High Mage Rufus Castillo. Are there any concerns about me presiding over this assembly?¡± The same person who extended my application, High Mage Castillio, announces. Theirs is the only familiar face in a sea of scorn.


    ¡°I, High Mage Gallah Anders, do have concerns.¡± The High Mage who led me here objects.


    ¡°Being?¡±


    ¡°Among our considerations will be your conduct.¡±


    "In favor?" High Mage Castillo calls, looking around to count four hands. Your concerns are heard but not shared," the other High Mage dismisses. Firstly, we wish to inform you how well you did on your exam." They smile while their colleagues'' gazes return to scorning me.


    ¡°Thank you, High Mage.¡±


    ¡°There are concerns about how you finished the tests.¡±


    ¡°High M-¡±


    ¡°Only answer direct questions; please initiate. Did you receive assistance or information about this test before or after coming here from anyone, including myself?¡±


    ¡°I received a tube with directions to the building and some tuition documentation.¡±


    Upon this, everyone looks to a black-robed individual behind me. They are standing a couple of meters off, squinting at me. They nod their head, and everyone shifts back to me again.


    ¡°Aside from that?¡± They clarify.


    ¡°No,¡± I answer, and they all look at the individual again, who nods again.


    ¡°Will you explain to us how you completed each test?¡± High Mage Castillio asks.


    I relive my trials, focusing on remembering every detail of the experience. Confusion meets my telling, faces of amazement speckle about. The standing Mage made me uncomfortable, but they were not a seer. Yet they affirm my confusion with each glance in their direction. I spend too much time describing the lights that hang in the sky, but who can blame me? It is otherworldly. As I come to the final test, High Mage Gallah stands.


    ¡°This is absurd. Such a reaction from a pleb; this is a lie!¡±


    ¡°Gallah! That is enough slanderous nonsense from you for one assembly; sit down,¡± Rufus commands, fury tinging their voice.


    ¡°Shall I continue?¡± I hedge.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    I finish telling my story in silence with everyone around me. Looking at each in turn, I find bewilderment and fear on the mages'' faces, but chiefly there is hate. They look upon me like a spoiled apple in a barrel. Their eyes tear away my rags and expose the farmer underneath. What can cause such a reaction? What is so abnormal about the test? I look to Rufus for comfort and find the same look on their face.


    ¡°May I ask if something is awry? Did I do something wrong?¡± I ask directly.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well.¡± I bluster, feeling failure creep in again.


    ¡°This will be for us to sort out. Thank you for your time, Vesh¡¯dan.¡±


    ¡°Yes, High Mage.¡± I bow, turning from the podium.


    The perfume is noticeable now that it¡¯s not. I have done something wrong but can''t determine what it was. I should have been better at some points¡ª But that¡¯s not enough to explain their reactions. Gallah seems particularly dissatisfied with me, though I assume that has little to do with my test. It is a scrutiny that reflects itself on the mages¡¯ that I pass through the same atrium.


    Confusion clouds me rather than frustration or anger, though I still feel all three. When I arrive in the evening, the restaurant portion of the tavern is full of patrons. I am near stumbling, and curious discomfort still suffuses my mind. I fall into my bed, fully clothed, and immediately pass out.


    ¡°Wake up!¡± Jer shouts, shaking me awake.


    ¡°This bit is getting old,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°Where the hell were you?¡±


    ¡°The test thing...¡±


    ¡°For three days?¡±


    ¡°Uhh... yes?¡±


    ¡°What the hell happened?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    ¡°Well. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alive,¡± he relents, laying my shoulder back.


    ¡°Me too,¡± I fuddle, soon asleep again-

 Chapter 9

    The fair is ending. People have chosen professions and thus move into student housing. Those who fail either return home or leave in search of something else. I consider several certifications while convincing myself that I am among the failures. Once the Fair ends, I settle in the Athenary, searching for references to the mage test.


    It is such a collection of books that I have never before beheld. There are more than one could read in a hundred lifetimes lining the shelves above. On the ground floor, you can stand on the mosaic tile and stare up at the higher levels restricted to the likes of me. The levels of balconies stretch ten stories into a domed central structure. Here on the ground, you could spend ten lifetimes reading.


    The tiles on the floor create an optical illusion whereby the solid surface looks like a widening pit which sucks up the color in the room with its pearly black surface. Bits of that black speckle the walls in decreasing abundance as you raise your eyes to the upper levels. The stone color brightens until you reach the translucent dome and a chandelier luminous enough to light the whole place.


    After a time, I found only a vague reference to rituals conducted by an Alvin tribe millions of years ago. These rituals use some kind of mind-altering drug in a coming-of-age ceremony. The journal referenced tells of journeys leading into caves underground. Is there something underground that is essential in this ritual?


    Another scholarly text cites this for a theory, postulating that large amounts of mana coalesce underground. These pockets of mana create the gems that we extract from the mines. I skim for evidence of similar rituals or more profound descriptions of this theory. A few days of this searching yields nothing else: many leads with little to show.


    On the fourth day of my fruitless endeavor, High Mage Castillio approaches me in the streets outside my tavern. They strike a jarring figure; their elegant robes and stately demeanor set them apart from the crowd. Spotting me, they smile before walking over.


    ¡°Hello, Vesh¡¯dan. It is nice to see you again,¡± they greet me.


    ¡°And you, High Mage,¡± I reciprocate.


    ¡°I apologize that we took so long in deliberating your recruitment.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your concern, though it isn¡¯t necessary.¡±


    ¡°Nevertheless, I apologize. Now, regarding your certification, after much consideration, I am pleased to inform you that we have accepted your enrollment into our program.¡±


    ¡°Y¡ª you are serious?¡± I stutter.


    ¡°Serious as a fireball. I am one of your main proponents.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You see, I was extremely impressed at your showing in the tournament. This prowess alone did not assuage the majority of our board. However, it was enough to allow you to take the entrance exam. I did not share my colleagues'' dismissals of your ability. After seeing you fight, I knew you could do well.¡±


    ¡°Why exactly are they against my enrollment? Can you explain to me further why my test is so abnormal? And that kept me in the test for three days?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Ah, yes. Reserving the right or privilege to practice magic for those from pristine lineage is a common belief. This tendency was never much of a problem before. Nobles entering the test know their affinity and some magical skill. A person has never completed the exam without some innate ability or prior magical training. Ruling out the possibility that you, in some way, have been assisted leads only to the fact that you have an innate ability¡ª No, we are not sure what that is,¡± they firmly state when I open my mouth to interject. ¡°Further confusing is how you solved the test using mundane techniques. That led to your test lasting longer than usual by about two days.¡±


    Anxiety emanates from the edge of my grin, each bit of knowledge adding to my confusion. I have to take a moment to consider what they tell me. The fact that nobility hoards information about magic is no surprise. High Mage Gallah comes to mind, with their immediate disapproval of me. The other stuff is more telling, like how I wasn¡¯t going to succeed in a test that requires magical ability. The difficulty of certain portions makes sense now; those tasks are for people who know magic stuff. It is also disappointing to learn that I will not yet be able to figure out what my magic is.


    ¡°What do you know of my innate ability?¡±


    ¡°This question is one we have no answers to, though I have searched. I haven¡¯t found a situation comparable to yours. We believe, with time, we will discern both your innate ability and its impact on the test.¡±


    ¡°Well... it is a lot to take in. Since we don''t know my innate ability, which courses will I take?


    ¡°We considered this for a time. The best option I can think of is an introductory course in every type of magic. Upon completing these, hopefully, we will better understand the direction you should take going forward.¡±


    ¡°How much exactly will this cost?¡±


    ¡°There is bad news. The board ruled that you won''t be able to receive assistance as we cannot value the usefulness of your innate ability. You will have to pay the full cost of tuition, which will be twenty gold pieces in the first bimester of your first year. The second bimester will be cheaper as you won''t have as many classes. Beyond that, the costs vary greatly depending on the specialization. I can only assure you it will be more than first-year tuition.¡±


    ¡°Well...¡±


    ¡°I know such an amount can be daunting, and I wish I could help you further. Sadly, I have done all I can at this time. I know you will be able to figure something out. Here is a class schedule, syllabus, list of required materials, housing documentation, and campus map. Do not hesitate to contact me with any problems that you have.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your help, High Mage; thank you.¡±


    ¡°It is my pleasure. I will be seeing you, Vesh''dan.


    I look over the sheets of information with a grimace. This one bimester will cost almost all the money I have, and the year will cost more than the revenue of our farm for four years. Why had I said yes? How can I make that kind of money? Why had I said yes? Yet one notion shines through, casting my face in exuberance: I have magic. Meaning there is no other choice but to go through this door.


    Nervousness precludes restful sleep, tossing and turning me in my bed. As daylight strikes the corner of my window, I rise. I am up early to purchase supplies for the first three introductory classes. Some materials, like the abacus and the writing tools, are helpful for all subjects. Only two of them require specifics aside from the standard. Altogether, the assortment costs two gold pieces. Paper and ink alone are fifty silver. But this, at least, is a wound that will bleed slowly.


    I need a profound source of income. The only means I can attain such resources will be with skills from the Sanctum. I have to save my money accordingly, rationing each coin with greed. High Mage Castillio believes I am capable of doing this. I do not. However, there is little use in not attempting. These fears humble my stride to the Sanctum. The centermost tower of the giant city dwarfs even the mountains in comparison. The top isn''t visible through the clouds breaking against its immenseness.


    The walls are more than the treasure coating them; they are composed of precious metals. A palace built with platinum bricks would have less value than these walls. Inside that towering tower is my destination. It is enough to daunt, but I stiffen my lip and step in.


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    Arriving at my first Introduction to Mental Magic class, I sat towards the back of the monochromatic lecture hall. Soft light permeates from the walls, making a joke of the light provided by glow gems. Every other student wears better attire than my own. Jewels and fancy robes are staples of their class, juxtaposing my worn linen tunic and cotton pants. I wouldn''t have these things if I could, but the difference increases the likelihood of conflict. Several passersby stare as I take my place. One such pudgy individual approaches me with a self-confident sneer.


    ¡°Are you lost?¡± the person scoffs.


    ¡°Is this Introduction of Mental Magic?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± The person confesses, confusion casting their sneer.


    ¡°Then I am in the right place,¡± I inform, looking past them to the front of the hall.


    The younger person looks ready to put me in my place until the professor rushes in. Setting down several papers on the podium at the front, they clear their throat while looking around. The initiate notices the Mage before they can further harass me. The teacher seems to be middle-aged and approaching disheveled. Their dark blue robes match lighter blue eyes that roam about the room, finding me without difficulty.


    ¡°You are meant to be here?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°You will need robes; speak to your R.A. for that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mage.¡±


    "I am Mage Randor, and I will instruct you on the theory and practical application of mental magic," Mage Randor establishes, "Mental magic was discovered, like most other magics, during the Magical Revolution in N.E.F.C.D. 23000, over two million years ago. At this time, the discovery of magic and subsequent studies of each categorized branch led to the development of the world. We theorize that Grevs¡¯ were the last to discover magic. Referencing the few texts we have on other races supports this theory, as mentions of their practices with magic date back far before our magical revolution. For instance, sixty million years ago, the Alvin tribes practiced soul magic as early as N.D.J.I.F. 78000. Though there is little information on anything Pre-N.E.F.C.D. ¡±


    As the professor speaks, I scribble across a loose paper. I organize my notes as I transcribe them. Several students look back at me without restraint. This information is less noteworthy to them. Crucial points are all I can get, such as the speed of new information disallowing for detail.


    ¡°Mental magic was the second type discovered; its opposite, elemental magic, was the first. A nameless scholar discovered magic. In the infancy of its research, mages used mental magic to control living creatures. It wasn¡¯t till nearly four decades ago that we uncovered further applications. Nowadays, we utilize mental magic for several positions ranging from mental healing to mental imprisonment.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± mage Randor finally allows, pointing to me.


    ¡°Could you explain the application of magic used in the testing?¡±


    ¡°Interesting. No, if you wish to discuss such a thing, you must come during my office hours. I will not derail the lesson plan to explain things to you.¡±


    ¡°I thought-¡±


    ¡°I do not wish to hear what you assumed, as you are an initiate. I wish for you to stop saying things unless they are productive to the discussion; initiate,¡± Mage Randor admonishes with little emotion.


    ¡°I apologize.¡±


    ¡°Back to what I was saying, mental magic has abundant application. The most predominant use today is in the legal system. Mental mages are used in courts to determine the validity of claims and, in some cases, access the minds of the accused. This effect wholly differs from truth seers in that the latter can enter your soul. Both draw from internal magic-¡±


    After being called on again, I ask, ¡°Internal magic?¡±


    ¡°Magic is mostly derived from external sources.¡±


    Mage Randor explains many other forms of mental magic, none of which interest me much except mind palaces. Their speech is soon over, and they take us through the syllabus. They then inform us of our classes in the practical application rooms, denoting our class schedule. My spot at the back allows a quick exit to avoid the bulky person.


    My next class is Introduction to Soul Magic with Mage Rainer. The race to arrive offers exercise. I grab a seat in the back while readying to ruin another silver in parchment and ink. Mage Rainier enters the room a minute later in gray robes, and calm, mossy ponds stare out of a porcelain face with sharp, angular features.


    ¡°Hello, I am Mage Rainer. Soul magic is the oldest recorded form, first practiced by Alvin tribes over sixty million years ago. It is the fourth magic we Haim uncovered. Early adopters used it to corrupt souls. The most pronounced career choice available is that of a truth seer, though I will recommend looking into other avenues. You will all be able to create soul space, enter altered states of being, sense auras, etcetera.¡±


    The rest of their lecture follows the previous professor''s explanation of the syllabus and practical lessons. When I first raise my hand during their opening preamble, they ignore me, so I lower it. Instead, I mark each question in my notes as they come up near the corresponding section. The next class is Introduction to Creation Magic. It is the magic I¡¯ve had the closest interaction with, hurrying my steps to the class. As I enter, a spindly older person stares from the front of the room. They wear a tired expression. Their robes are pure white, reminding me of healers. I sit towards the front of the class.


    ¡°I am Mage Saria; I will deepen your understanding in the purest form of magic. Creation magic is pure creation. Applications using this form of magic include healing, plant cultivation, and matter creation. Healing and plant cultivation are self-explanatory; instead, I will explain its lesser-known form of matter creation in depth. Contrary to the name, creation magic cannot create matter. What it can do is form matter out of magic. You cannot create matter due to the Laws of Magical Conservation, which state: ¡®Magic, and therefore matter, cannot be created or destroyed.¡¯ Creation is limited to the efficiency of the caster, as well as the amount of magic available. Creation magic is external, meaning any source must come from mana gems.¡±


    The professor dumps information upon me as I scratch my parchment. I sigh when the familiar lul of agenda-related matters slows my cramping hand. Every new question seems more important than the last. I leave the classroom with lines of inquiry spilling from my head in confused mutters. I must now direct those to one of the professors during their office hours, but which one? Firstly, I go to the Soul Mage¡¯s office. I chose them because, of the three teachers, their style is the most direct and helpful to me. I arrive at a small room and knock on the wooden door.


    ¡°Please come in.¡± Mage Rainer calls.


    ¡°Hello, Mage Rainer. I was hoping to ask you a few questions?¡±


    ¡°How can I reduce your suffering today?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s the thing, after just three lessons, I already have dozens of questions.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Dozens. Hmm, I have an easier solution that will help,¡± they offer, standing and then shuffling to the small bookshelf behind them.


    ¡°Please do,¡± I accept.


    ¡°Here you are.¡± They offer after grabbing a book from the shelf.


    ¡°Thank you so much; this will be helpful.¡± I thank, snatching the book on the Basics Of Magical Theory and flipping its pages. ¡°Why isn¡¯t this given to all the initiates?¡±


    ¡°Anyone coming here is aware of everything covered in this book. You¡¯ll have some catching up to do. Is there anything else?¡±


    After thanking them again, I sew the book to my chest before leaving the office. I fly three blocks over to the student housing administration. All the initiates already have housing assignments, leaving the building quiet. A frail person at a desk assesses sheets of parchment, marking them with red ink. From them, I receive a bed in the Soul Magic dormitories.


    I arrive at a gray building in the innermost circle of the housing district. A symbol of flowing lines hangs on a sign above the door. I startle at the level of character decorating that plasters the main foyer, expecting the dormitories to be as monochromatic as everything else thus far. The brick building''s lobby sprinkles overlapping icons and signifiers. Poster clustered signboards set here and there. The smell of paint points me to two initiates currently adding their touch. I reach the fifth floor, a hallway of doors that we walk until one marked 10B20.


    The room is light blue, with several paintings adorning each wall. Two sets of identical furniture appoint the room, one prominently laid out and the other stuffed in a corner. It also appears someone bogarted pieces from the latter into the former¡ªbut that isn¡¯t all. The water comes out of the faucet hot without any bother. The beds are clouds. There is also a reflective surface that hangs from a wall. In it, I see someone who doesn''t fit.


    The clock ticks away the minutes as I examine the strangest objects. It gleams on the nightstand by the bed. The class one lever looks like a crane holding its head just above the water. Pressing down on the lever connects it to the base. I would examine it further, but I don¡¯t. I set the search aside in favor of my books, deciding to start with the basics.


    Mana is everything. The Grand Magus Referious first discovered it in their eloquent equation: M equals eL squared, where ¡®M¡¯ is mana, ¡®e¡¯ is mass, and ¡®L¡¯ is the speed of light mana. Furthermore, we categorize this mana into eight opposing groups: creation and destruction, mental and elemental, soul and death, and time and space. Each has several subcategorized types and mages that fall into multiple categories.


    The book explains the principles of magic. It states the three laws of magical dynamics. The first law, Conservation of Mana, states that mana cannot be created or destroyed. So, all mana merely changes states. The second law states that the destruction mana in an isolated system always increases, meaning all things will eventually convert. The third law states that the destruction of mana in a system reaches a constant level when total magic approaches absolute zero. Essentially, progress and decay slow with reduced magic.


    Isolated systems are any biome isolated by a boundary. For all the races that inhabit Terminus, that boundary is the vast space between us and the moons. Nyx has only one continent: Terminus. We are considered an isolated system. While absorbing the material, I fail to notice someone entering the room. I do hear when the person starts shouting. I spin around, crashing into the bed behind me, and fall over, flailing. I shoot back up, raise my arms in defense, and start with bewilderment.


    ¡°There is a stranger in my room!¡± The familiar person yells.


    ¡°I am no stranger! Well¡ª I mean¡ª Fuck¡ª I don¡¯t know you. Well¡ª I mean¡ª I¡¯m not¡ª not supposed to be here. I mean¡ª I am supposed to be here-¡±


    ¡°What are you doing in my room?¡± Shannai Sage asks.


    ¡°This is my room as well. I am Vesh¡¯dan; I was late to enter.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ actually... I already knew that. We met before at the tournament. That, and my mother told me.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°She isn¡¯t supposed to, and I thought it would be funny to alarm you.¡±


    ¡°Quite a performance.¡±


    ¡°My apologies; it is unusual to meet people here. We all know each other, you see, or at least know each other¡®s houses. It is nice to meet you again. Oh, this will not do.¡± She claims, looking at the corner.


    ¡°I don-¡±


    ¡°Nonsense, you¡¯ll get your share of the room. I¡¯m not one of those.¡± She refuses in an offhand manner, walking up to the bed to pull it out.


    ¡°Let me help, at least.¡±


    While rearranging the room, we got a few swings at getting to know each other. There is a tepid vibe that keeps the conversation simple. I describe myself as a farm worker and my proficiency with a rapier. She describes herself as a noble on a path to great power, leaving us with little meaningful information. Before she vanishes, she offers caution that rings deeper than the rest of the conversation.


    ¡°Your appearance is crucial to maintain; keep that in mind.¡± She warns.

 Chapter 10

    I am awake the next day, still in my chair, as sunlight shines on my face. After a moment of confusion, I pop. The clock reads five minutes shy of my first class. The robes I slip on are black, and the material is soft but durable. I sprint towards the Sanctum, fumbling through my satchel for the sheet leading me to my first class that day. This robe is comfortable, but it nearly trips me five times. I reach the classroom roughly ten minutes after it starts, attempting to slink a seat in the back.


    This¡ª My elemental magic class is nearly four times larger than creation magic. I note a slender young mage holding a strange contraption with six small gems set in the base. A handle protrudes from the top with several symbols marking indentations. I can hardly see anything from the back apart from the red-robed Mage fiddling with something underneath the base.


    ¡°Well, look who decided to show up.¡± An unpleasant cadence sounds from the front of the room.


    ¡°Yes, Mage, I apologize for my tardiness.¡±


    "Your apologies are worth little to me. Now that you are all here, we may begin. I am Mage Calen. Elemental magic is the most common, with hundreds of subcategories. We will have to move quickly. All of you continuing in elemental magic will take more specialized courses than the other magics. So, it is crucial to categorize you first. There are three types of elemental magic and six categories. The three types are as follows: combustion, conversion, and configuration. We will explain these later in the class. For now, remember their names. The six categories in which you can have one or multiple affinities are fire, earth, water, wood, metal, and organic. Hundreds of further specializations exist, but they are all categorized under these. You will find materials easier and harder to work with within each category. The ease with which a material molds depends on an individual''s efficiency, power, and understanding of each type of material. For example, an inefficient yet powerful metal mage will have no problem working with materials of lower density, like iron. They will have a harder time working with materials with higher densities, like steel. This difference is because the Mage''s power can only compensate so far. It will lessen the difficulty if they understand dense metal intimately. With the large size of elemental classes and the difference in education, I expect you to do personalized research. Our class time will be primarily one-on-one to help you with any problems or questions. We will also teach certain milestones and principles in a more general sense. All of these are in your syllabus. I will test each of you individually in the spirit of such expedience. This device determines both your type and category. I will then give you a personalized study plan."


    We line up, and I am at the end. As a person touches the device, there is a moment of stillness shortly accompanied by a light glow on two gems: one type and one category. Two or three lit in a few cases on the bottom tier. On my turn, the Mage holds tight to the device while giving me a wary look.


    ¡°We will do your examination after class.¡± Mage Calen whispers.


    Slightly put off, though I understand their reasoning, I return to my seat. A few helpful pointers for navigating the Athenary pour from the Mage, then another review of the syllabus, which has few practical lessons, but we will receive a permit to use the rooms independently. After class, as everyone flees, I walk up to the front desk and proffer my hand to Mage Calen.


    ¡°Ready when you are.¡±


    ¡°All right, all right, here you are.¡± They relent, handing over the device.


    As my hands clutch the cold metal surface, a slight jolt tingles through my fingertips against the etchings. One gem on the top row gleams, punctuated by a grunt from the elemental Mage. After contemplating, they stalk to the gem in the back of the room. The light vanishes as they press their hand to the wall. Every gem on the device glows with soft light, barely illuminating my hand. Only one Gem from the top tier glows visibly, though.


    ¡°This is astounding. I have never seen such a reaction. You truly are a rather peculiar case.¡± They remark, turning the light back on.


    ¡°What does this mean?¡±


    ¡°I believe someone has told you of your affinities?¡± They ask.


    ¡°They told me I had a minute affinity in everything; practically useless.¡± I huff, sitting at a desk.


    ¡°Not exactly. You see, a person with an affinity for mental magic can have a higher level of internal creation magic than someone with an affinity for creation magic. As we believe it, the difference in being able to practice magic or not comes from the deviation of an affinity from your baseline. With all your affinities equally balanced, I do not see how you can practice magic.¡±


    ¡°So I am entirely useless?¡±


    ¡°Castlillio believes you have an innate ability that utilizes your unique affinities. If you want my opinion, then yes. We are unaware of how you passed the test. This deviation from all the rules we thought essential is troubling.¡±


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    ¡°Well, how do you know I am one of these innate practitioners?¡±


    ¡°There is no record of someone passing the entrance exam without it, but it is possible.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean for my training?¡±


    ¡°For now, consider looking into internal applications of elemental magic. I can provide you with a permit. This access will give you more information to make a choice. I believe you should talk to Castillio about your other concerns. She will be able to provide much more helpful input.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mage. I appreciate you looking out for me. I apologize if I seem angry, I just feel rather lost.¡± I thank them reflexively as I stand to leave.


    ¡°I am not helping you, farmer. I am doing what my role requires.¡±


    ¡°Yes, mage.¡±


    My next class is destruction magic, which I arrive at on time. Unfortunately, someone seems to be guarding the door. The faces of my four opposers light as they spot me entering the floor from the stairwell. I need more time to come up with options. I can¡¯t show them weakness. I stop short of their reach with a look up expectantly.


    ¡°You do not belong here.¡± The reedy voiced individual at the head informs me.


    ¡°And you¡¯re the judge of that?¡± I rebuke, trying to push past the four goons.


    ¡°Slow down. We just wanted to talk to you. I am initiate Gallah. Yes, there is a relation before you ask. I have heard from my father that you are actually from a farm?¡±


    ¡°I heard they are a shit farmer.¡± One of the larger two jests, prompting all four to snicker.


    ¡°Like I farm actual shit, or I am not good at farming? Either way, it isn¡¯t very clever.¡± I note.


    ¡°You are bold; how cute,¡± little Gallah feigns, reddening.


    ¡°I would rather not talk to you at all. Are you going to let me pass, for fucks sake?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let them through, Brud. Watch your back, shit farmer.¡±


    ¡°Always do, little Gallah.¡± I laugh, letting the last part slip after clearing the blockade.


    But another surprise awaits me as High Mage Gallah stands at the front, surrounded by adoring faces. I sit at the back and marvel at the groveling students hanging to his every word.


    ¡°The key misunderstandings around destruction magic persist even to this day. Unlike magic viewed with better dispositions, destruction magic has yet to receive redemption. Yes, we have started. Get in here, Gallah. You see, the misunderstanding is derived, in part, from the worship of creation and subsequent demonization of its opposite. Another prejudice derives from the Theory of Dentropy. The theory states that the destruction mana in an isolated system will eventually lead to an increase in said mana. This theory unnerves most.¡±


    ¡°Does that make destruction magic the superior practice?¡± Asks Little Gallah, now near the front.


    ¡°In my opinion, it is the most dangerous to wield.¡±


    I have already read about the theory, but mark it down anyway. High Mage Gallah is a windbag, but knowledge is invaluable from any source; you just have to filter out the crap. I pay less attention as they move into the familiar routine and mark the syllabus accordingly. So far, they have the earliest practical lesson in a week but the fewest classes towards the end of the bimester.


    My final class directions lead to a decrepit room off a basement corridor. The rotting door flakes in my hand as I try to open it. I walk into a crypt, looking for the bodies. Instead, I only see an empty room with a chair, a desk, and a chalkboard. Their newness outshines the space that otherwise looks a century old. I sit in the chair while waiting to see what will happen. A prank is my first guess, disproved by the older Mage in dark gray robes entering the room from a different entrance.


    ¡°Yes. Well, hello there. I am sorry about the ¡®classroom¡¯. It has been a long while since we have had a death magic initiate. I think I might¡¯ve been the last one¡ªuntil you. I am Crucus, son of Hortey, the only resident Death mage. Therefore, I am your new Death Mage professor. This lesson is all rather last minute, so I don¡¯t have much preparation. Let¡¯s see here.¡­¡± He begins, trailing off behind shuffling pages.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡ª no, not this one, here it is. Death magic is the least understood of all the essential magics. This misunderstanding comes from the belief that death magic perverts the soul. The reality is complicated. Though death magic can corrupt a soul, it is not an inherent effect of magic. The last recorded case was tens of thousands of years ago and requires an ancient relic¡ª Regardless, death magic allows you to permeate matter with magic. Once charged, this matter produces predictable effects. However, such abilities often go underutilized. This lack and the law limit Death mages to mundane work, all twenty of us. Yes?¡±


    ¡°So you are saying that amalgamations are the only current application of this magic?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes and no. There are many applications, but they are strictly forbidden to study.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I can understand your position, but it is not a question¡ª I have a few theories, mind you, but again, it just isn¡¯t a sort of thing¡ª How about this? I will just say it is restricted to know. Anyway, back to what I was saying. Legal Death magic primarily applies to amalgamations. Once you have a sufficient level, you can do all sorts of things. You can adjust the level of decay or growth, and you can control the movement of things. However, you cannot simply put magic into a tree and tell it to stand up and come along with you. No, it is one of our most refined practices, as it truly needs a partner to shine. Inanimate constructs or amalgamations must be able to perform the necessary task. Do you understand?¡± Crucus lectures.


    ¡°I think so. Do you mean that if you wanted a tree to move around on legs, you would have to first make legs for the tree and then permeate those with magic?¡±


    ¡°Exactly, this is why early death mages animated the deceased bodies of living beings because we could not build a construct. It was the only viable thing to animate.¡±


    ¡°Then will you need to create internal structures such as a heart or a stomach?¡±


    ¡°Exactly the meat of it. You would need to create legs that would work for the tree, as a copy of yours wouldn''t do. But yes, you would need the bones and the tendons to move the muscles. All you need are the structures allowing the creature to perform whatever function you wish. If you create a golem intending to have them eat food with you, you might put them in a stomach.¡±


    ¡°I see. Is that what you do? Create golems?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. I am an amalgamator. I work in rune repair and primarily focus on maintaining our rune infrastructure.¡±


    ¡°That sounds interesting. Can I possibly assist you in this?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ it has been a while since I¡¯ve had an apprentice. Are you interested in amalgamations?¡±


    ¡°I am. Being from a small village, I have not seen a mage who wasn¡¯t also a priest. I would like to see more. The glow gems are an amalgamation, are they not?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We will see what I can do about that. For now, though, let¡¯s get back to the lesson.¡±


    He goes on like this for an hour or so, explaining the intricacies of forcing magic into a solid object. Density is a significant factor in this practice. Afterward, he walks me through a crudely drawn syllabus. I do my best to be an adequate student, listening intently and asking questions when I lose my pace. The initial two days crush me under their collective promise. I hardly return to my dorm before passing unconscious, promising to start on homework tomorrow.

 Chapter 11

    The heavy Yaunz showers trickle away into Bach as my first two weeks are spent either in class, the Athenary, or bed. I am racing to understand my lectures as we hurtle past the basics into usage equations for manifesting. General education affords me knowledge that makes the former more straightforward to achieve than the latter. Manifesting magic¡ª it should happen, yet it hasn¡¯t. Or it has, and they don''t understand how it works. The only saving grace is the overlapping assignments I get from different classes. On the first day of Bach, I run into Jer on the road leading to the Athenary.


    ¡°There you are, Vesh. Buried in a hole somewhere, to be sure, yet here you are,¡± Jer greets.


    ¡°Welcome to my hole, paper instead of dirt.¡±


    ¡°I''m digging you out, and we''re getting drinks tonight. Invite anyone you like. We are all meeting up at Lisen¡¯s tavern.¡±


    ¡°I do not know; I have a lot of studying to do¡­¡± I consider.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it. You will be coming, you will enjoy yourself, and you will be drunk by the end of tonight.¡±


    ¡°Alright, you''ve convinced me one night isn''t going to hurt anyone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the stuff; see you there at sundown.¡± He laughs, slapping my back.


    In the Athenary, I find Shannai reading a book on conceptual nature¡¯s categorizing magic. She is ankle-deep, eyes flying over the pages, her right hand darting out notes as she reads. I approach with hesitation, announcing my presence.


    ¡°Hello. I might break something working so hard,¡± I jest, stepping up to a chair across from Shannai.


    ¡°Oh. Vesh¡¯dan. I didn''t notice you there.¡± She lies, not slowing.


    ¡°I''ve heard I''m not very noticeable, and it''s one of my more endearing traits. You can call me Vesh.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Vesh. I bet the nobility will surely like to notice you less.¡± She notes.


    ¡°Ouch. Those are such painfully true words. With comments like that, maybe I should not invite you.¡±


    ¡°Invite me?¡± She queries, slowing, if only slightly.


    ¡°Well, a couple of friends and I plan on getting drinks later tonight. I am thinking of inviting you. That was until you proved your character. Candid demeanors make for poor drinking companions,¡± I argue.


    ¡°Is that pile of bulging muscle going to be there?¡±


    ¡°Jer? He just invited me, so probably.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can make time for you.¡±


    ¡°Watch it with him, Shannai; he''s a heartbreaker,¡± I warn.


    ¡°Appreciated, but I can handle myself.¡±


    After getting Shannai¡¯s okay and informing her of the details, I grab some books on the saturation points for different materials. Then, there will be a book on the internal aspect of elemental magic and one on the structure of magic. Stopping at the counter, I hand over my books.


    ¡°Got through those rather quickly,¡± the new librarian comments.


    ¡°Not much time for anything else.¡±


    ¡°That may be foolish nonchalance, but I¡¯ve seen you here. I know how much you like learning new things.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe we have officially met; I am Vesh¡¯dan,¡± I introduce myself.


    ¡°Call me Kury. I am the head librarian here.¡±


    ¡°Working at the front desk?¡±


    ¡°Only to meet the talk of the citadel,¡± they mislead.


    ¡°It is nice to meet you, Kury. Hopefully, we will see each other again,¡± I lie.


    ¡°I am sure we will.¡±


    After grabbing everything, I meet the death mage at his behest. I find him in a small workshop against the back wall of the eastern campus gardens. Mage Crucus needed clarification on the invite and a specified time. Stepping inside the dark room, a cluster of mechanisms hanging from the ceiling strikes me. Brushing them aside, I reveal a shack clogged with tools, instruments, and random scraps of materials. I call out, letting him know I am there, too afraid I¡¯ll step on something important.


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    ¡°Oh. There you are, come come.¡± Mage Crucus stirs, popping open a curtain revealing the back room and waving.


    ¡°I will try,¡± I offer, tipping my feet toe first to avoid the litter on the floor, assisted by the light from the back room.


    The curtain leads into a smaller room, and hot air blisters my skin as I enter. The room is tidy, with tools in place. Its heat comes from a forge burning with a goldish-blue light. The forge and the entire back wall are constructed of black brick, making me guess Sanctum built the forge before the shack.


    ¡°So, have you decided to let me assist you?¡± I begin.


    He sat in a chair, staring into the flame of the forge. ¡°Yes. I have; this project¡­ I need an extra hand. I took some persuading, but this solved a large problem. I must stress how little you can learn about this practice.¡±


    ¡°I assumed as much, but I am open to learning anything you can teach me. I will try not to press, but I am unsure which questions would be inappropriate, so I must defer to you. So what can I learn from this project?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ I do understand that yearning. I really do, but that is how you should be about it, and it bodes well for you. As for the project, your role will be simple. My peers and I have all received a piece with instructions. Compartmentalization is a common practice in this line of work.¡±


    ¡°Hmm... When you figure out how your piece works, do you still have a clue about the whole picture?¡± I sum.


    ¡°Yes. But I received the best parts, you see.¡±


    ¡°Which are?¡± I slip in, hoping to get more.


    ¡°That would be another thing you cannot see.¡±


    ¡°It is interesting. I apologize.¡± I offer after a moment.


    ¡°Well enough.¡±


    ¡°And what would compensation look like if I was useful?¡±


    ¡°You see, sadly, you will be useless to me now. If you wish to give this a chance, I promise to be equitable with the payment for any help. So what do you say? Still on board?¡± Crucus asks.


    If I produce usable work, I will leave with something for the effort. I know a little about amalgamations, but what little I know boast only of their value. Being able to produce a glow gem would solve many of my problems, but it would also create more. I can¡¯t miss this chance.


    ¡°I am,¡± I affirm after considering.


    ¡°Here then, read this, and return to me next week. By then, you¡¯ll be of some use.¡± He instructs, throwing a book over his head.


    The cover is a used dark wood that reads: An Arficers¡¯ Amalgamation¡®s volume one. Running my hand down the spine, I feel worn wood. I lightly open it to the table of contents, sections on principle theory and practical application¡ªtitles promising knowledge on rune formations, infusion techniques, and material selection. I secure the book in my pack before returning my attention to Mage Crucus.


    ¡°May I ask you a question?¡± I venture.


    ¡°We will see if I can answer.¡±


    ¡°Why have there been no more death magic initiates?¡±


    ¡°That is tough, though propriety dictates I keep it simple. It has the power to destroy everything. It is Destructions¡¯ hand in this world.¡± They warn, refusing the intent of my question.


    ¡°I will be careful, Mage; thank you,¡± I thank him before readying my papers.


    ¡°One more thing: Consider our scheduled class time a free hour. For now, the work you do on this will be educational enough. I can answer any other questions. And visit Castillio; she pesters me about you. Well, three things then.¡± He dismisses, petering off at the end.


    Re-shouldering my pack, I embark on the next errand. I can¡¯t believe that I might be able to make amalgamations. They are icons of wealth. Since arriving at the citadel, I have frequently seen carriages and glow gems. If I could make these things, I could make an absurd amount of money¡ªmore than enough to afford the next few years.


    And Mage Crucus. I had not compelled his attention even for a second. I first considered it akin to everyone else''s classism, but instead, it is a specific delineation. It is as if he wishes not to recognize my existence fully. He isn''t that bad, though. There is something there that can mutate into a rapport.


    Halfway into the Sanctum lobby is a desk with a person attending it. I have yet to interact with the attendant. After a pause, I greet them politely, notifying them of the pauper''s appointment with the highest high Mage. They oblige, asking me to wait at one of the benches before pressing what I now know to be a rune on the desk. Fifty glow gems embed themselves in the wall behind the desk, and one will occasionally blink. Once the glow gem in the top right is lit briefly with a blue color, the person waves me through the fancy door behind them.


    I walk down the black hallway until I reach another door; a gem set above gleams blue when I touch the handle. I enter a marble athenary with bookshelves four times as tall as me. I openly stare without consideration.


    ¡°I can let you borrow some if you¡¯d like,¡± High Mage Castillo offers.


    ¡°Oh.¡± I emerge, looking first at the black marble desk and then the black-robed figure.


    ¡°I will not be able to loan out many, though there are a few I will be able to give you.¡±


    ¡°I will take them,¡± I call her bluff, looking around reverently.


    ¡°I will gather them while you tell me what brings you here.¡± She commands, blowing my assumption.


    ¡°I meant to come sooner, but I have been busy. I also worried it might be an imposition.¡± I delay.


    ¡°No imposition at all, young one. Please tell me how things are going.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I obey, sitting. ¡°Things have been going well. I enjoy all of my classes. I did have a couple of questions, though.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Well, firstly, I am wondering which courses I will take going forward?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve decided to leave that up to you. Death magic is likely the only choice that is unlikely to lead far. However, if you wish to pursue that field of study, I will do my best to endorse you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? And the requirements?¡±


    ¡°It is not that simple. We can not refuse to instruct you on your affinities as long as we can facilitate it once you qualify. Even if you received the certification, you would have no privileges to practice without a permit; those are limited.¡±


    "And I wouldn''t receive one of those?"


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    After the message sinks in, I reply, ¡°That is understandable. How should I approach telling people of my condition?¡±


    ¡°Plenty know parts, if not all, of the story. I will advise skepticism in your dealings.¡±


    ¡°Yes, something to keep in mind. I am also curious why I have only six magic classes when there are eight types of magic?¡±


    "That is something I planned on discussing with you. You are the first Mage in our records to possess the ability to manipulate time, so no luck there. Spatial magic is another story; it is a rare ability but can occur. Such a mage journeys from the east for another student. He is delayed but should be arriving near the end of Bach to begin a course for both of you."


    ¡°Oh? It will be interesting to meet this initiate.¡±


    ¡°You have; she shares your room,¡± High Mage Casillio informs me with a grin.


    ¡°You don¡¯t say, here I am considering myself perceptive.¡±


    ¡°Perceiving was your first mistake. Is there anything else?¡± She asks.


    ¡°One last thing. Why do this all for me? I don¡¯t think I impressed you enough to validate all this help.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She forestalls with a searching squint. ¡°I would like to be blunt. But it''s truly a confluence of events that led me to a decision that will undoubtedly ruin me. At the time, I could not watch this world crush another dream, especially not you, Vesh, child of Valary.¡±


    My face stiffens, my body refuses response, brain-processing. My mother''s name. The mother who has not lived in Grev¡¯haim for twenty years, whom I have never met¡ª Questions distract from the thoughts reassembling, sussing through every scrap of repression. I want to know everything, but nothing comes; not a single syllable escapes my lips for hours. This ploy is a trap. It¡¯s bait to get my plans out of me, and then I epitomize the corruptible nature inherent in commoners.


    She may attempt to obtain information to control me, yet there must be easier ways. The plan to bring a commoner to the Sanctum could be a constant, and the commoner could be less relevant. If so, I would suspect them of choosing someone with ordinary talents. Unless that is part of it? In that case, my innate magic, or the event that caused it to develop, will have to be a part of the plan. Right? Calm; will rules mind. Focus on what is essential: what do they want?


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I terse, a few moments after the revelation.


    ¡°I know this is difficult, you asked, and I have no reason to lie. That said, continue your distrust; it will serve you well here.¡± She smiles, poorly disguising a weary resignation.


    "Thank you, High Mage. I will do my best," I dismiss myself.


    ¡°Do not forget your books,¡± she reminds.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I relent after considering the alternative.

 Chapter 12

    We need tools to help us overcome the Wall and a method to keep our bearings while crossing Destructions¡¯ Waste, which extends four times the landmass of Grev¡¯haim. After that, we face an unknown barrier to the Calv¡¯alvin Forest. With knowledge in crafting amalgamations, I can make those tools: sustenance, shelter, protection, and possibly transportation.


    The bare minimum necessary to continue studying involves amassing at least twenty times the yearly revenue of my father''s farm while maintaining my marks and preparing for our journey. Daunting prospects suspend my disbelief. Upon finishing Artificial Amalgamations Volume One, I will report to Mage Crucus to receive the second.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Mage Crucus,¡± I greet.


    ¡°Ah, Vesh. Yes¡ª It hasn¡¯t been a week, has it?¡± He fumbles, rising from his chair and covering his work.


    ¡°It has not, Mage,¡± I affirm.


    ¡°Well¡ª Yes. Well done. Make sure you are absorbing the material, though,¡± Mage Crucus advises, grabbing another book from a shelf containing fifteen volumes.


    ¡°I will heed your council; it might be easier for both of us if you gave me a few volumes at once,¡± I offer.


    ¡°It might be¡­ Yes. You can have two at a time.¡± He bargains, grabbing the third volume.


    ¡°Are there runes in those volumes?¡± I begin, looking for confirmation.


    ¡°These will only cover the procedure, structural formation, and material affinity,¡± he denies.


    ¡°Where will I learn runes?¡±


    ¡°As I stated earlier, you likely will not be permitted to learn such things.¡±


    ¡°High Mage Castillio said you could teach me even if I¡¯m not permitted to use it.¡± I try, walking a precarious line of inquiry.


    ¡°You are misunderstanding. We can not refuse to train you on the nature of any magic you have an affinity with. In other words, I can not refuse to tell you what death magic is or how it functions in you. If you wish to learn runes, aside from a few basic ones that you will learn to assist me, you would need to complete your certification and apply for a permit. Once obtained, the permit will only allow you information on the task permitted.¡± he states, dashing my hopes.


    ¡°And the basic runes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the barrier rune is the most basic, and you will have seen that one in the first volume,¡± he explains while drawing a circle.


    ¡°Oh. Yes, the book did not call it a rune, though.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t refer to runes but focuses more on the underlying dynamics. There are two others. The first,¡± they draw a straight line, ¡°That is it. Transference runes connect portions of your rune formation. The last is a basic inductor rune, but you won''t need to worry about this until your second year if you were to study,¡± they finish, drawing a swirl.


    ¡°Where can I find the tools to engrave?¡± I round.


    ¡°Yes, you will receive a permit for an appropriate practical room soon,¡± Crucus gifts.


    "Thank you, Mage. Is there anything else?"


    ¡°Yes, once you have successfully recreated this runeprint, you can earnestly assist me. These documents will get you to and in the workshop; do not diverge from the print. lastly, the second volume explains how to use the workstation.¡± He punctuates by handing me a scroll tube.


    ¡°Yes, mage.¡± I adhere, leaving the shack and cracking the book on my trek.


    The second volume fills my free time, going into detail regarding each step of the engraving process and then several different methods of infusing and cleansing metals. The internal nature of my magic makes me skeptical that these methods will fit my situation. Manifesting any innate ability from my magic is still elusive, even with the copious lecturers on the topic, yet I have yet to be in a setting permitting active attempts.


    My practical lessons offer a way to deepen my understanding of manifestation. Sadly, destruction magic is the first of my classes to have such a lesson. I enter a gray room full of transference and barrier runes, all with different types of materials. High mage Gallah directs us to a piece of paper hanging by a string in the center of the room.


    ¡°You will all line up and use destruction magic on the paper. Those who fail to do so will fail today¡¯s class,¡± Gallah lectures.


    I stay at the back, watching people''s techniques as they go. They exchange a magical source as they switch. Some have specific movements or vocal chants to help focus their will. Others complete the exercise without strain, flippantly raising the stone to disintegrate the paper. The paper ages in a moment until only dust remains. Little Gallah is in the latter group, finishing in a blink with a smile for me as he passes. I step forward moments later to take the focus.


    The pebble of cut ruby has two parallel transference runes with a metal slightly lighter than my black rapiers. A rune that allows magic to travel through it. I focus on the paper, trying to turn my will to destruction as Mage Gallah instructed. I hold up my hand with the gem. Nothing happens. I shift into a root stance, moving my lips in a concentration mantra: Will rules mind. Will rules body. Will rules all. Still nothing. I look to destruction, the desire to express anger. A roiling boils just under the surface. Foggy wisps of my incompetence float around, seeping into my fortitude. Still, nothing happens.


    ¡°That is long enough, and we have much to cover, initiate Vesh¡¯dan.¡± They spit my name on the floor as they snatch the paper.


    ¡°I-I-I¡¯m-¡±


    ¡°Please do not embarrass yourself further,¡± Mage Gallah dismisses while my peers snicker.


    ¡°Yes, Mage.¡± I relent, handing over the focus.


    We move from paper to a peach, which everyone succeeds at. Then a hunk of routwood from the western coast. I know this wood has a higher affinity to creation magic, making it reluctant to destruction magic. At least this increase in challenge leads to more people joining me in ineptitude. We end with a chunk of iron, only affected in small degrees by Little Gallah and three others. As he returns to his seat, his boisterous strut curdles my compassion, destructive thoughts raging.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Now you see the distinguishing characteristics of a true destruction practitioner.¡± Mage Gallah lectures, flicking their hand at the iron, a pile of rust flakes appearing in its wake. ¡°It is best to know one¡¯s place,¡± they reiterate their prejudices.


    The humiliation questioned my confidence for the rest of the week. How could I succeed here? Even the test that got me in wasn''t ''properly'' done. I am here, yet I don''t belong. My next practical class is in mental magic. The stone room differs from the one used for destruction magic: half the space with as many visible transference runes and one barrier rune surrounding two floral cushions.


    ¡°Vesh¡¯dan, what a pleasure to see you. Please sit.¡± Mage Randor greets from a cushion, gesturing to the other.


    ¡°As well you, Mage Randor. I can''t imagine you¡¯d have the time to instruct me personally.¡± I return, sitting on the designated cushion.


    ¡°That I have disputed, whereas my choice is not,¡± they inform.


    ¡°Well then, let us not waste your time.¡± I offer, mimicking their cross-legged position.


    ¡°Let us. Picture a room in your mind, the first one that comes; grab it. Place yourself inside of it. Start filling in all the details about the room. The shade of the wood, how the sun moves through it, and the feeling of the walls. Every aspect will come in time; inform me when you have a basic room constructed. Do not let fai-¡±


    ¡°I have it ready,¡± I giddy, interrupting them.


    My room recollects before me. The curtained-off portion of our farmhouse is barren of frivolity. An end table, with one properly working shelf holding the handful of outfits I possess. A chipped, unpainted clay bowl atop it. The bed isn¡¯t comfortable, as straw beds are like to be, but it fits my needs and mine all the same. I can even hear floorboards creak as I cross to wash my face in the morning. My eyes open to Willows¡¯ Grove.


    ¡°You are? Oh, okay. Now, I will attempt to connect with you. Once you feel my presence, allow me inside,¡± they instruct.


    ¡°What can you do once you are inside?¡± I hesitate.


    ¡°You control your mind; never let anyone convince you otherwise,¡± Mage Randor warns.


    ¡°So you can control me?¡±


    ¡°If you let me,¡±


    ¡°Alright, begin.¡± I consent after a moment, comforted by the honesty.


    The probe is distinguishable, yet nothing changes. The pull allures; someone is outside to meet me, wanting in. I close myself to the intentions of the call to pinpoint the purpose. They wish inside. I harden the walls of my mind by dissociating from the world, opening a door that goes to this room only.


    "Well, you are picking this up quickly. Good, go-" the Mage applauds upon entering.


    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± I ask, picking up on a shift.


    ¡°The detail is exquisite, these books,¡± they admire, picking up one of the two I¡¯d left on my bed for my father to return. ¡°Blessings of creativity. I have not read this in a while, but the information is accurate. Even the historical dates; when did you have time to construct all of this?¡±


    ¡°It came rather easily. I also had very few reading materials, so I re-read them often. But this isn¡¯t magic, is it?¡±


    ¡°Sorry if this is disappointing, but this is magic. Your start is efficient, as it requires no more effort from me. I will permit you to advance this and recommend looking into The Compendium of Internal Projection, a great starting point. You have the room for a couple more hours. Do you have any questions?¡±


    ¡°Uhh, a few. What exactly can I make here?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ I believe answering that question will limit your capabilities. Honestly, you can make anything imaginable.¡±


    ¡°Can my magic manifest inside of here?¡± I continue.


    ¡°Why not try?¡±


    I find intensity in their green eyes, belying their vocal pattern. I imagine my right hand turning into willow bark. The feathery texture of the wood and the spongy bark as I caress a willow tree. A tingling sensation in my fingers opens my eyes to bark resembling a willow covering the top portions of my fingers. I revere my hand, using the other to trace the bark on my skin.


    ¡°Manifesting should be much easier here, not requiring the same amount of resources. Costs will diminish your ability to replicate that effect outside of here. Also, as it is all your thoughts, you could imagine yourself made out of wood, and you would be, but it will not require the same magic as converting your body to wood outside of here. Your other question?¡±


    ¡°Yes, will any regular maintenance be required?¡±


    ¡°Some need to brush up on things so they are not lost; I have heard of neglected rooms disappearing or needing recollection. Though I imagine you will not have as much trouble in this area,¡± Mage Randor assures.


    ¡°Is this similar to the entrance exam?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Yes, in the sense that it is on the ethereal plane. The differentiating factor is the medium on which access relies. The mind''s access is a facsimile of the control of a mind crystal,¡± Mage Randor explains.


    ¡°Ethereal plane?¡±


    "The Compendium will cover that. Anything else?"


    ¡°Can this be used to increase my productivity?¡±


    ¡°I have heard of people being able to put their subconscious mind inside their palaces. I don¡¯t see many applications when you can only generate things you already know.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, mage, you have given me much to think about.¡±


    ¡°Do not think too hard,¡± Mage Randor jokes, lightening the warning.


    I look around my room while considering what I wish to create. With memories of home fresh in my mind, I finish recreating my father''s farm. My favorite memories are in late spring, just before harvesting. The produce colors the consistent avenues. I amble the fields, sliding my fingers across each stalk of wheat until I can feel the grains scratching them. My mound comes like a breeze, a view I had meticulously inspected for most of my life chokes me with longing as willows choke the horizons.


    After leaving the practical, I embarked on a journey to discern mage Crucus¡¯s vague direction to the practical workshop. Non-specific indicators include, ¡®Turn right at the best soup shop, second left after that weird smell, and go around the shady alley.¡¯ Adjacent to the workshop, I miraculously found an older pale attending a storehouse with a demeanor that lends little to building bridges.


    ¡°Beat it. It is a components storehouse,¡± they greet.


    ¡°I am aware. Do you need to see my permit?¡± I offer, pulling out the tube.


    ¡°Well, yes¡­ The seal looks accurate. How many units will ya need?¡± they admit, throwing me a curveball.


    ¡°Uhm¡­¡±


    ¡°The tubes?¡±


    ¡°Ten?¡±


    ¡°Are you asking me?¡±


    ¡°Ten,¡± I state forcefully.


    ¡°Alright. Alright then. The big hot shot needs ten tubes.¡± They accept with a slight smile, leaving for a moment before returning with a brown sack.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°No, thank you.¡±


    The workshop appears disused but maintained. Pulling out the second volume of artificial amalgamations and flipping to the beginning of the workshop chapter, I start reading. The beginning of the eleventh chapter has a labeled diagram of an engraving station. Firstly, I activate a rune that will start heating the engraving tool. Examining the activation rune gives little information; similar to the casting stone, it has two parallel transference runes. The tool''s handle is worn smooth, with six inches of flat metal constituting the blade. A barrier rune prevents the heat from moving down half of the edge, keeping the tip hot. Finally, a wire connects the butt of the tool to the table.


    The runeprint pins to a board attached to the wall reveal a simple design, five transference runes stretching the outer length of the tube. The spacing will be the most challenging part, as they need to be equidistant. Several hours of meticulous work generate a manageable result. Balduan¡¯s instruction on engraving gave me a healthy base understanding of how to succeed with five of the ten tubes.


    I move to the area for cleansing, a stone trough that holds plain water. Water has natural mana-absorbing qualities, making it helpful in this process. The problem here is simple: how do I put my magic into this object? My only idea involves enclosing my hand around the tube, putting it in my hand. Not only does this not cleanse the metal, I can''t even sense the magic in the object. Fuck! After an hour of attempts, I break. I need a technique that works internally without connecting to the mana. I am not able to practice any runes.


    I leave the workshop without achieving much for the shack that holds my death magic class. I fume at the absurdity of my problem. I have this thing that I should be able to do but can''t. Not only that but if I fail here, I will be back at square one again. At the back, I find Crucus leaning over a table with several lights and a magnifying glass. He finishes his work in moments, sighing as he lifts his tool.


    ¡°Hello, mage Crucus.¡±


    ¡°Who? Vesh. Yes, hello,¡± he jumps.


    ¡°Is that part of the project?¡±


    ¡°Another thing you cannot ask is what it is. Well, tell me of the progress you had.¡±


    ¡°Not farther than engraving. I have had no success in cleansing. I have also failed most practical magical lessons. I can feel my will, but it won''t leave me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have never heard of anything like this before. For death mages¡¯ cleansing is the easiest of tasks, most innately do it¡­¡± Mage Crucus vocalizes, pondering the problem. ¡°Could be that you just can not¡­ Yes¡ª well. Treatise Atypicality: A work on aberrational matters in magical mutations,¡± Crucus offers after a moment.


    ¡°And I can gain access to this?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that is another question. I will see what I can do.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mage Crucus. Will I still be useful if I cannot cleanse and infuse?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Mage Crucus confirms.

 Chapter 13

    A day into my weekend, I received permission to begin studying the Treatise of Atypicality by Cipper Glen Sufferson and The Compendium of Internal Projections. The former comprises five published journals, in which I uncover only three references to similar cases. The first two are a set of twins that can breathe fire. The only other related reference is that of a child named Joanne, who was found dead in an alleyway next to the body of a man with a hole in his chest. Guards found no blood at the scene. Joanne is uninjured, and further examinations of their body point to a malady known as depletion sickness.


    The first case gives me an idea of how I can manipulate mana. The issue of Joanne is more troublesome, but there is something there. Possibly, an attack on their life revealed some latent destruction magic. It''s evident magic is involved; it is less apparent how exactly it is. I note the case for further review.


    Laterally, there is the Compendium, the sheer size of which makes me weary even to open it. The first thirty pages index the following four thousand. It overwhelms all of my expectations and suspends my indecision. What do I need, a safe place to experiment, a way to study more? The ethereal plane seems a good starting spot.


    Flipping the first few chapters, I concentrate on absorbing the words as efficiently as possible. Each magic has an accompanying plane called a sym-cosm. The understanding of these phenomena lacks cohesion, explaining it as a web of interconnected planes forming a distinctive surface that consciousness inhabits. I move on to different crafts interspersed with magic effects recorded under the categorization. There are schematics for an engraving station with no runes and several accounts of successful rune crafting inside a mind palace.


    After that, I spent a few hours studying, trying to keep up but still falling behind. I worry that I will not be able to pass, that my lack of practical ability will ruin my chances, and that even if I did pass, I would be useless as a mage. The further I get, the harder it is to see the way back.


    A clatter interrupts me as I read the second book on internal elemental magics, books falling to the floor, and then a fury of foreign syllables that sound like curses. I stand from my table to investigate the sound. Across a few bookshelves, a pile of robes sprawls next to a turned-over cart. The person is indistinguishably ordinary with no defining characteristics. Their clothing has no stitch or seam; they cover them all the same, but the effect makes me squint.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± I fret, moving to help them up.


    They chuckle a baritone before responding, ¡°Oh, me? Well, not so much,¡± -Click¡ª standing with my assistance and clicking their teeth, ¡°What an awful time to be leaving a cart around.¡±


    ¡°When would¡¯ve been a better time?¡±


    ¡°Thank you. You can let go of my sleeve¡ª well, clearly¡ª earlier or later than here,¡± the stranger admonishes.


    ¡°I am Vesh¡¯dan.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is nice to be at our first meeting. You haven¡¯t learned my name yet. You may instead call me Erudite.¡± ¡ªClick¡ª


    ¡°Okay, Erudite, it is nice to meet you.¡± I indulge, assuming this person to be an eccentric High mage.


    ¡°I should say, only a time wizard can teach you time manipulation.¡±


    ¡°Time wizard?¡±


    ¡°Right¡ª You call them Mage now? It has been a while since I have been now. Can¡¯t say I missed it.¡±


    ¡°Okay? Can we walk this back a bit? You¡¯re a time mage and wish to teach me time Magic?¡±


    ¡°Teach is a strong word. I am here to provide the shock your system needs to see yourself. Firstly, I must figure out what exactly you are here.¡± Erudite prescribes, walking up to me and then touching my head before I can react.


    ¡°Whoa, Whoa there.¡± I react, smacking for their hand but finding only empty air.


    ¡°Yes, internal; white balance, too.¡± ¡ªClick¡ª ¡°Intriguing.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°It seems you are an internal wizard; these were rare in most of the times.¡±


    ¡°Most?¡±


    ¡°There is a time, about five billion years ago, in which internal wizards are more common. Though then is better than now. Before the Fall, things were always nicer even when they aren¡¯t, you know?¡±


    ¡°Before the Fall? How old are you?¡±


    ¡°I stopped keeping track of it because the number will be pointless.¡±-Click-


    ¡°You travel through time?¡±


    ¡°In a way, I experience nonlinear time. The soonest I have been to now is about thirty-thousand years. I wish to come now to reflect on our first meeting.¡±


    ¡°Why do you care about meeting me?¡±


    ¡°In a way, you are an important person.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°No answer I give you will affect you, and no one can give you the answers you seek. Can we instead move to a useful topic?¡±


    ¡°Uhh¡ª I guess so.¡±


    ¡°I am the first and only time wizard there has ever been. I was born to a couple of farmers who lived in an easterly region. That world would be completely alien to you, yet home to me. Shortly after my sixth-teenth birthday, I experienced my death. It is the first time I have gone forward. Eventually, I came to terms with my death. My searches are fruitless for me but will lead to a better understanding of magic.¡± Erudite pauses, seemingly for effect. ¡°Time magic is internal Magic,¡± they relent, finding no humor in me. ¡°That which one can gain from it can only be found. Instead, I will teach you the principles I have learned. Time operates on a closed system, meaning you cannot change anything. Call it predestination or destructions¡¯ will, though I see it differently. Time is unalterable due to the will we all express. Those things will always be the same here because they are ours. Do you understand?¡±


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    ¡°I think so¡ª Even if you try to affect events, your effect is in the event you intend to change. Even attempting to change things fails to understand the underlying momentum.¡±


    ¡°Correct, though your abilities will probably manifest in a way completely dissimilar to mine. I imagine you cannot shift your perspective in time as I do. Most likely, you will be able to manipulate your perception of time. How you do this and why must be entirely up to you.¡±


    ¡°Are you suggesting that I experiment on my own time?¡±


    ¡°Of course, this ability will come to you. Its manifestation will be and is a part of the core functionality of your being.¡±


    ¡°I am having trouble in all of my practical lessons. Do you know anything that can help me pass my exams?¡±


    ¡°You are thinking far too small, Vesh¡¯Dan. All the resources you need are in front of you. They could no more kill you than excise you the second you entered their test. They will all be nice while trying to deter you from your true purpose.¡±


    ¡°Which is?¡±


    ¡°Choices we make shape reality, the choices you make. Focus on your goals, not how they rate your progress,¡± Erudite encourages.


    ¡°I will consider that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t stay now much longer; grab this book while we are still frozen.¡ª Yes, that one. Place it in your bag.¡± They instruct, pointing to a bland, untitled black book.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I thank, packing the book in my bag.


    I return my gaze to an empty alcove. Nothing remains showing that anyone was there except the cart. I wonder to myself, for a moment, if Erudite had been here. The meeting is as strange as the figure, which is hazy upon recollection. A runner gave me a parcel informing me that the spatial Mage had arrived and a class schedule with attendance information accompanied it. There is something at the back of my mind that I was considering, a vital thing hanging beyond the tips of my fingers, but it is lost. How am I supposed to add space magic into a too-full schedule? Shannai sits in the small classroom. Her posture stiffens before relaxing as quickly.


    ¡°Hey, Vesh.¡±


    ¡°Hey. This place is small.¡±


    ¡°It is for sr classes.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Did your mother also mention I¡¯d be your classmate?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s just great to be here,¡± Shannai lies.


    ¡°You have me sold.¡±


    ¡°I wish I didn''t have to put up with this facade,¡± She notes, relaxing in her chair.


    ¡°I can relate; out of place farmer here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, thanks¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am your instructor. I will be instructing you, so let us get instructed.¡± A mage shouts after appearing in front of the lecture podium. ¡°Since this class is so small, I will determine your ability before teaching you accordingly. Let¡¯s start with the abnormal pleb so it doesn¡¯t feel bad.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m right here,¡± I gape.


    ¡°How convenient; now, please tell me or show me your spatial magic skills.¡±


    ¡°None,¡± I mutter.


    "Oh? You''re a disappointing pleb; who could''a? Honestly, you have no reason to be in this class. However, that is not my decision. For the time being, try to keep up. And you?" the spatial Mage asks Shannai.


    ¡°Yes. I can move about a kilometer at most. I can also hold a small spatial pocket for about a minute,¡± Shannai admits.


    ¡°Very promising. All right, for today, you two will be reading these books, and hopefully, by next week, the pleb will have more to shit out of its face.¡± The insult accompanies a finger pointing at me, prompting a stack of books to press down on my head.


    ¡°Any question? No? None at all? Great,¡± then poof, they are gone.


    ¡°They are a delight,¡± I comment as I unstack the books.


    ¡°He is High Mage Phylius. He kills people for a living. So yes, he is a dick. Shall we?¡± she agrees, gesturing to the pile.


    ¡°After you,¡± I implore.


    Phylius wrote the top two volumes, Spatial Magic for the Untalented. Below is a textbook covering practical external techniques and a thin journal on internal practices. Shannai admits she has read all of the books there. After I begged her to stay, she relented and helped me through them. Her understanding of magic is invaluable in parsing the texts.


    Our workload starts at our current understanding of space and how magic manipulates it. Space is a surface that we can bend or pocket. Next, the few known ways of controlling this surface require external magic. The latter half of the second book talks about the few internal users recognized, if only from second-hand accounts. The next book discusses practical techniques for external manipulation, so I skim it.


    ¡°I connect my will to the place where I want to go. Then I am there myself. But I¡¯m in both places for a moment. Some people need an anchor, but I can go anywhere in the empire within my range,¡± Shannai attempts to explain.


    Her experience sounds external, but it may further my understanding. I release Shannai with my gratitude before diving back. The showers of Bach break up as Lak creeps in, and I trudge on under the weight of all my classes. The addition of space magic slips me into a frantic routine.


    Studying, homework, and then classes leave me hardly keeping up with theoretical work. My pace keeps due to efficiency, allowing understanding to supersede memorization. Of course, I still have to memorize certain things like formulas and affinity percentages. Yet, I must run harder against the information flooding my world. My classes progress, as you can expect when taking seven of them. The only one I¡¯d manifested in was internal mental magic. That accomplishment gives me hope for my next practical lesson.


    Practical elemental magic occurs in a room similar to destruction magic, making me realize that the three foundational runes are the only ones ever visible: transference, barrier, and inductor. This room can only fit a third of the elemental class, leaving the rest spilling into the hallway. Struggling to get a good view of the few receiving instructions attracts the attention of a younger instructor in green robes.


    They are guiding an internal metal mage who successfully transmutes both arms. The younger instructor gestures me over, my attempt for visibility making me a target. My trembling hands sink into my robes as I pass over the lead barrier rune. My smile at the Mage meets malice in the lines of their sneer.


    ¡°Well, get to it, pleb,¡± they grumble, muttering the slur.


    The vehemence of their remark enrages me. I disassociate all but that one thing: the feeling of willow bark as my fingers brush a trunk, following the course divot in its swirling path down the tree. Protection, bark embodies that one universally relatable desire. A familiar sensation opens my eyes to the tip of my middle finger, which is no longer shaking. A ridge of flaky bark, the length of my fingernail, has formed. I smear a crooked smile across my face.


    ¡°And you are proud of that?¡± the instructor belittles, ¡°You get half marks, the epitome of the bare minimum.¡±


    I hate those malicious marbles divulging distasteful mirth. However, the bigotry remains with me until my next practical lesson in soul magic. Mage Rainer sits in a room similar to that used for mind magic. A single difference sticks out as I approach: a second barrier rune around the cushions, and a third one isolates Rainer¡¯s spot from mine, inlaid with a foggy white crystal.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Mage.¡± I greet, sitting on my cushion.


    ¡°Yes, today has also allowed for positive cultivation on my part.¡±


    ¡°Cultivating?¡± I gauge, knowing Rainier to be the tolerant sort.


    ¡°It is all that you feed.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡ª Like soup?¡±


    ¡°Say you face suffering; how do you respond to that? What, of all the emotions you experience, do you give the most attention to? Imagine a garden with all the possibilities of you, every reaction you can or should have, every emotion and inclination that composes what you consider a self. Which fields do you actively tend?¡±


    ¡°At first, I will say save them if I can, though I rarely can. Is that bad? I think it is okay to want to help people. Do what you can and leave the rest to governance, isn¡¯t that the saying? Yet I can''t help feeling that we are stuck...¡± I continue after a silence. ¡°I cultivate my inadequacy, I cultivate greed and vanity with a fixation on the future,¡± I summate, hoping this will qualify further instruction.


    ¡°Questioning one''s motives is one of many processes in cultivating.¡±


    ¡°Is it good to cultivate?¡±


    ¡°Good, bad. It is what it means to you, what you can derive from it.¡±


    ¡°And these other processes are?¡± I relent after a few moments of them smiling at me.


    ¡°We only know a few. But you can look into that once permission is granted by showing proper aptitude. We begin by trying to focus on our bodies. Distinguish every sensation of your skin, hair, and blood flowing through your veins. Once this is in place, try to slow your thoughts and detach from your sense of self. I will be probing your aura...¡± they instruct before trailing off.


    I ignore their inability to sense whatever an aura is. Considering I know that a mage can''t create magic inside someone or on their person, then they can''t feel me. My internal nature precludes the average external emission. Strange that they wouldn¡¯t have deduced that. Instead, I try sensing every part of myself, which comes easier than disconnecting from my sense of self. What does that even mean? I am not me. Who am I, then? No one is anyone and everyone? Is that sad?


    ¡°Even stranger still, we are done, for now. I thought you would emit, even faintly, yet you have no aura to sense, and I can think of no other way to test you.¡± They admit defeat, standing abruptly.


    ¡°Does that mean I cannot receive the permissions?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, it does because there are no other practices I can properly test you on if this does not work.¡±


    ¡°If I were to connect to you, what would you be able to do?¡±


    ¡°Many things, but as we have no way, I must research it.¡±


    ¡°I might have a way, but it wouldn¡¯t be conventional¡­¡± I test, stopping their exit.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to test it alone first; I have some time in the experimental room scheduled. But after that, could we try it? I have the appointment coming up soon.¡±


    ¡°It will be a month before I can book a proper place. How about the 3rd of Singh?¡±


    ¡°That works for me.¡±

 Chapter 14

    My scheduled time in the experimental room is about a week after my first class on spatial magic. I have several theories on creating an external reaction with my internal magic. These rooms are in the white buildings composing the first ring of the campus. After signing in, I proceed to a miniature version of what we use in class, with a single wooden workbench. Spilling the contents of my bag onto the table, I first grab my quill to sketch the rune formations in the room, notating the different materials and widths for each rune.


    Drawing takes up half of my hour, forcing me to rush the tests. I then grab a practice rod before kneeling in front of the trough. I finally have the chance to test my theories. This bimester will end in eight weeks, and I will have to come up with a source of revenue, or I won''t be here long. I can gain a valuable skill or learn to be invaluable to someone.


    I scan the runes in one last check to see that everything is perfect. With a glint of hope, I place the cylindrical metal object into my mouth before plunging my head into the cleansing trough. The water is abrupt but not cold, and the depth leaves my chin sticking out of the top. At first, there is no discernible change-


    My tongue slides along the runes as a connection snaps into place. Where before, there was a thin line dividing me from whatever I touched, now there''s harmony; I am finally feeling the magic in the tube. This connection presents a buzzing taste as I push the mana from it. My body begins to tire¡ª I slump against the side before I think of spitting out the rod or lifting my head from the water.


    After catching my breath, I pick up the rod to examine it. I haven''t even removed a quarter of the ambient mana.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± I curse.


    After a few false starts, I am on wobbly legs, clenching the tube in my fist. No, I couldn¡¯t finish, but I did cleanse it. This step is an achievement, so I take time to congratulate myself. Learning to connect allows my magic into an object, inaugurating my chances of working for Crucus.


    Next on my list, I grab a ruined roll of paper. I adjust my back, then clear away all except the spit in my mouth. This time, as soon as I start to wobble, I stop¡ª spitting the infused liquid onto a piece of paper. As the spit lands, both begin to disintegrate. It is a minor reaction, but it is a reaction. The bits of corrupted paper mix with the spittle as it dribbles down the page. I rejoice, throwing my fist in the air. Though this application is next to useless, it will be helpful in practical lessons.


    Hoping to continue my success, I use creation magic inside my mouth. Imagining a marble in my head distinguishes my will to create, a burning to bring something into this world that screams: I am here and exist. As soon as my magic coalesces in my mouth¡ª spots smack my vision with a punch in the face¡ª Yet I can''t stop, continue failing, quit¡ª


    Darkness invades as a cold stone is now against my-


    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± Someone shouts within inconsiderate proximity.


    ¡°Hard not to,¡± I mumble, trying to open my eyes.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to get up just yet. We still have to check you over.¡±


    ¡°Find anything good?¡±


    ¡°It''s just depletion. You must have used a significant amount of magic,¡± the voice admonishes, pressing a cold object to my head.


    "I won''t say, even topped off, that I have a ''significant'' amount of magic."


    ¡°Oh? You must be Vesh¡¯Dan. A colleague informed me that you might be reckless. I think they underestimated your lack of self-preservation.¡±


    ¡°People often underestimate me.¡± I bluster, rubbing the ache from my head with stunted peeks through my eyelids.


    ¡°All right, you can sit up.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I thank them.


    ¡°If you deplete yourself, you feel bad. Next time you breach this trust, you will lose these privileges. Please collect all of your belongings.¡±


    ¡°Damn. I had quite a few tests to try.¡± I mumble, recalculating timelines as I inspect the room.


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    ¡°Keep hydrated, eat something, get some sleep, and don¡¯t practice for at least two days.¡± They instruct over their shoulder as they leave.


    Steady drums beat in my ears, and each pound splits the rift deeper. I clean up my supplies while lamenting my inability to continue testing. Once I have another appropriate reason to receive permission, I can return. I consider forestalling notification of my advancement to Mage Crucus, gaining me more time to access the experimental room, yet my desire to start amalgamating, to earn coin, dissuades me. However, this incident illustrates the dangers of practicing in a less controlled environment. I¡¯m not exactly sure of the prolonged effects my state would incur if there were no healer nearby.


    As I gather my things, I contemplate the successes and failures of my tests. Chief among them is the ability to use a loophole to mimic an external reaction with my internal magic. I got the idea from the case study of the fire-breathing children. The advancement opens a world of possibilities. Where before, I could only affect myself in an unknown way. Now, I can impact the world outside me. That discovery alone merits all the experience near death. The major boon of this advancement is my ability to work with Mage Crucus.


    Thoughts drag the ground at my heels as I remember the determination that had almost killed me again. My main magical flaw is my inability to use or manipulate proper amounts of magic. But my biggest failing is the same thing that has pushed me here. I need to understand the line better. I crawl into bed, pulling the sheets over my head. I skip the next day due to the pain. Nausea sloshes inside me as I seek relief in this position or that, staggering from bed only to eat, drink, and relieve myself. By the second day, I can attend class at a diminished capacity.


    I am slowly gaining ground on the subject matter of my classes, and with exams coming up, I have to choose which I will continue to study. Spatial magic has been interesting, though Phylius seems less enthused to teach me. The same can be said of destruction magic, though it will have to be one of my choices because of its level of crossover with the other magics. Though High Mage Gallah¡¯s teaching leaves much, advanced destruction is still a good choice.


    My next practical lesson is two days after my incident in the experimental room. Mage Saria, my creation magic instructor, heads a class of twelve people. The space is small, but the patterns crossing the dome are becoming familiar. She holds aloft a silver ingot.


    Her voice bellows, ¡°It is more energy intensive to form matter from magic than rearranging materials. For example, creating this bar from ore will be much easier than forming a single grain of sand. Yes, initiate Vesh¡¯dan,¡± she rebukes my raised hand.


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t this discussed in the textbooks? It seems like a core principle of the functionality of creation magic.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t in the textbooks because it is only useful information in practical application. You will rarely find such insights in a textbook. It dissuades naive initiates from experimenting with things they haven¡¯t learned.¡± She rebukes, pinning me to the wall with her gaze.


    Once the snickering dies down, she begins leading us through the exercise. She presents a tiny pebble with a reddish tint highlighted by white spots. She then hands it to the first person in line. They take it into their hand as their eyes close. The pebble grows slightly after a moment. I was expecting it to glow. It is a testing apparatus, but would my new technique work? I soon hold the pebble that has become a rock, yet it is too light.


    ¡°What am I supposed to do here?¡± I whisper to Mage Saria.


    ¡°Oh yes, you probably do not know of growstone. That is a porous rock that has a high affinity with creation magic. Essentially, you need to enlarge the rock by adding oxygen to it. I know it might be difficult for someone like you, but I can''t change the requirement, so if you don¡¯t succeed, you will fail this practical lesson.¡± She finishes instructing, looking at the rock encouragingly.


    I smile before popping the rock into my mouth. Encouragement falls from her face, survived by a confused eyebrow tilt. The surface appeared solid enough, but now that it''s inside my mouth, I can feel the dimples scattering it. The will of creation breathes air into the holes. I consider how many had touched it as I spit it into my robes to clear away the saliva.


    ¡°There we have it,¡± I beam, presenting the clean and slightly larger rock to Mage Saria.


    ¡°Well done.¡± She congratulates, delegating possession to the next student.


    I leave the room running, picking up pace as I hit the smooth black road leading back to my death mage class. I had passed another practical course, leaving me firmer. I run whenever I can, ignoring the students staring as I spirit past. The look on Saria¡¯s face was priceless. Sometimes, my studies mask the track of time, leaving me to sneak back to the dorms after curfew. Those and now are the only times I can physically train myself in the way I¡¯d grown accustomed to. At some level, I might even stay out on purpose.


    ¡°Hello, Vesh¡¯dan,¡± Mage Crucus greets from the side of his workshack, lying in the grass.


    ¡°Is everything alright, Mage?¡± I inquire.


    ¡°Yes, I am a little stuck on one of my projects. You see, fresh air clears the mind. You know this garden used to be private.¡±


    ¡°It is beautiful, with the roses starting to peek out.¡±


    ¡°It is the Naza Valley''s finely trimmed bushes and grass. It is still private, though. There aren¡¯t any signs anymore, but you won¡¯t ever find a certain type of person here.¡±


    ¡°Its layout mimics many gardens I see in the city.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Yes¡ª Well, Have you finished both volumes already, or have you succeeded in cleansing?¡±


    ¡°Uh. Both. Possibly I can help you with this problem?¡±


    ¡°No, the problem is beyond a pleb. I will open a tab for you at the components storehouse. With that, you should be able to help.¡±


    ¡°And compensation?¡± I hedge.


    ¡°Hmm, I can probably give you a silver per tube?¡±


    ¡°Is that a fair amount?¡±


    ¡°You won''t have any way of gauging that, huh? Well, it is fair. You''ll have to take my word for that. Was there anything else?¡± Mage Crucus offers after a moment of silence.


    ¡°Yes, I seem to have a small supply of magic. Is there any way to add efficiency to the processes?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ I will have you look into a paper on macro-runing techniques. They are only ever needed for larger amalgamations as their effects have diminishing returns as the runes decrease. However, I believe they will benefit you...¡± Mage Crucus trails off.


    ¡°I will. I have one more thing.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Are there runes used in the practical and experimental rooms that are invisible from the inside?¡±


    ¡°No¡ª I mean, that is not something you need to be aware of.¡±


    "I apologize. Thank you, Mage. Have a good day."


    Crucus¡¯s bit of attention slips from me. He is always away somewhere else, thinking through an amalgamation or examining a small thing here or there but never really looking. The pay rate is still far from ideal, given my work speed. I am adding a routine of cleansing and infusing to my already hectic day.


    Knowledge and experience will continue to increase my speed, but the real bottleneck is my capacity. With my limited mana supply, infusing only two tubes will take a day. My immediate problem will be how to rune efficiently. After that, I need to find a way to squeeze more time out of my day.

 Chapter 15

    My spatial lessons revolve around watching High Mage Phylius and Shannai¡¯s abilities. Sometimes, he will explain the finer points of spatial magic, but only after I have annoyed him with my interruptions. His knowledge is clearly in external practices, and learning anything from him becomes intolerable. So, I spent these lectures talking to Shannai.


    ¡°Would you like to have lunch together and discuss this further? I plan on spending it in the Athenary anyway,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°No, thank you,¡± She rejects.


    ¡°Oh, That¡¯s cool too. May I ask why?¡±


    ¡°I hate everything about this place and all its customs.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too optimistic on my account.¡±


    ¡°I mean it. Phylius is looking, shh¡ª Okay. Everyone here acts like magic is the end-all-be-all. Like to have been chosen, or even more to have an innate ability is some sort of divine approval.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why indeed,¡± She evades.


    ¡°You know what I meant,¡± I accuse.


    ¡°Do we have to get into this? Is my rejection of your lunch date that offensive? Considering the studying, it''s not like it sounded enticing. I think you mentioned the Athenary. You have things to learn.¡±


    ¡°I wa¨C Oh, you¡¯re not getting me that easy. I am curious about what you hate. I¡¯ll drop it if you want.¡±


    "Everything¡­" She whispers with a sigh as the spatial Mage, finally noticing our lack of attention, slaps his hand on my desk.


    ¡°You, especially, should pay attention,¡± he blusters.


    I stop because she will tell me when she''s ready. With my list of things to study growing exponentially, I focus on exploring areas that will allow me to speed up or maximize my studying efficiency. With the permissions already granted for the Trietis Atypicality, I can look into the less relevant volumes I had skimmed before.


    Jerice, the pious, demonstrated an innate meditative state that allowed him to rest with only two hours of sleep a night. The closest comparable recreation shaves a few hours off. In the journal, there are accounts of the man feeling connected to creation as mana nourished him. He had been a successful High cleric from the abbey near Naza. His only meaningful achievements are bolstered by what''s considered a miracle of creation. It''s hard to disagree in the light of an innate ability that manifested randomly.


    Knocking out avenues of study leads to one breakthrough after another. For my studies of macro-runing techniques, I learned that I could use the borders rune, with a slight adjustment, to hold the mana. Connecting the activation rune to the borders can fill the border rune with ambient mana. This shortcut will increase my productivity, but I¡¯ll need more to afford the following bimester. I also reference the Compendium of Internal Projections for another Idea I have. The only helpful entry is that of a Mental Fire Mage who¡¯d built an obstacle course using fire magic.


    Next, I reach into my bag to grab my sketchbook¡ªan unfamiliar smoothness. Pulling the book from my bag, I stare at the plain black cover. The memory leaking into my brain curls my lip with confusion. I received this book from the time mage who appeared in the Athenary. I forgot about it. How? The thoughts need to be corrected¡ªthey are not bright enough. The name is out of reach. I set aside my rising concern and cracked open the book.


    Time. All the everything in one. It is an ocean of rivers embanked upon the edges of understanding, a state that exists in the awareness of it. Know that all time exists always. Our movement through it is why time feels to ''go'' forward. Time can not be changed or splintered. For one to attempt to do so will mean you already did, and it doesn''t work. Time is not constant; it flows at different speeds according to external and internal constants. Most importantly, time is the certainty to which all forces bow.


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    For your first assignment, once you look past the enchantment, try to experience a moment. I returned after you were capable of doing this. Good job!


    Blank pages fill the remainder of the book, each obnoxiously empty as I flip through. What is this? Who is this person? My other problems or goals seem ridiculous compared to the absurdity of the being I interact with. I won''t stop. I can¡¯t. That could be another enchantment. What is an enchantment? No. I have to be careful with them, they are dangerous. But I need what they have to teach me.


    My free time over next week goes towards runeing for Crucus. I suspect they are used in concert to channel large amounts of mana. Two sacks of materials await me at the storehouse, each containing fifty tubes, weighing twice as many kilograms. Grunts emanate as I drag the burlap sacks into the amalgamations workshop. Alright, let''s get working.


    I pull out a tube to start engraving transference runes, doing this process first because it will give me less material to cleanse. If I make a mistake engraving, I won¡¯t lose any cleansing productivity. Once I have engraved ten tubes, I switch to cleansing. The process is tiring, though luckily, my magic comes back quickly, one benefit from a small magic pool. I finish cleaning the fifth tube when someone starts pulling on my shirt, lifting me out of the trough.


    ¡°Oh, destruction. Why does this buffoon show up? I''ll kill the idiot if they aren¡¯t dead,¡± the voice pleads.


    ¡°Please, stop pulling on me,¡± I instruct, standing from kneeling.


    ¡°Whatcha doin''? Nearly thought ya drowned yourself,¡± the storehouse attendant I had met earlier splutters.


    ¡°Just a technique for cleansing. Everything is fine here. Sorry to worry you.¡±


    ¡°Strangest¡ª Well, we''re closin¡¯ soon; you must leave.¡±


    ¡°Is it that late already?¡± I ask, scratching at my wet head.


    ¡°It is. I¡¯ll give ya a few minutes, but there are other people with stuff to be about,¡± They order, looking at the mess of metal scraps and spilled water. ¡°I can give ya a hand,¡± they begrudge, possibly from pity or for expedience.


    ¡°I would appreciate the help.¡±


    ¡°It''s been a while since I¡¯ve seen a death mage here. Ya a Kirkian?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Willow¡¯s Grove, just north of Brinx. How can you tell?¡±


    ¡°Even the help has heard of the farm mage. Heard ya came in all caked in mud,¡± they insult, but with a lighter tone than most.


    ¡°Bigotry looks worst on the oppressed,¡± I quote, pushing the scraps into the pan.


    ¡°Ah yes, but ¡®folie lies in assumption,¡¯¡± they quote back, clearing off the worktable.


    ¡°What do you believe in then?¡±


    ¡°I believe all got the same right to be here, anyone who can be allowed. But things ain¡¯t fair. I had a friend, a younger woman I met as a child. In the south, our cities have more people.¡± They take a moment here, and I see a withered pain glancing off the side of their eye. ¡°We have more walls than the one around the city, invisible barriers that keep the views of the prosperous clear. We crossed those walls, and I met everything I wanted to be when I became a young woman. Quick-witted, appealing, and regal; you know that way some folks got? A life picked as easy as you¡¯d pick a branapple. My life¡¯s not been easy by any means¡ª Yet, we were similar; we both longin¡¯ for somethin¡¯ more than we had. In the end, I think that is what is most important. Not that people have or have not, but we can strive towards more together.¡± They finish as I arrive at the door with the tubes.


    ¡°What happened to her?¡±


    ¡°She left to live her life, and I stayed to live mine. We had the time we needed together,¡± she answered, smiling at me as she opened the door with a sack of scraps.


    I consider the story as I leave the workshop with my proceeds. There are currently six blocks of campus buildings between me and my dorm. I had been wishing for more exercise. The conclusion is sad. That''s what it was. I wanted them to overcome and remain friends. To ignore convention and do what is the right thing. They should have stayed in touch if her life took her somewhere else. Or am I wrong? Could fate be unavoidable? Something in my mind rings out, correlating this thought to time magic nature. The choices are not some apotheosized deity but will manifest. Soon, my dorm is at hand, and I am collapsing into bed.


    The following day my chief task is straightforward: now that I have a feel for the people, I need to start making inroads and covering my ass. Finding the office of Mage Randor, my mental magic instructor, will help with the latter. The dark wooden door is closed, so I knock softly. After a few moments, Randor opens the door to me with a smile. The smile seems genuine enough if formality is the bar; its temperature feigns warmth while poorly concealing a slight head tilt. The falter compounds when they fail to stretch the middle of their lip with the guise.


    ¡°Is this a bad time?¡± I offer, staying at the door.


    ¡°No, do come in. I have been working through this theory.¡± They refuse, gesturing at the chair opposing theirs.


    ¡°I would love to hear about it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, this theory my sister has been pushi¡ª¡± They stop, looking at me intently.


    ¡°I apologize. Is it confidential?¡±


    ¡°In a way, most things regarding magic are. A fact you will begin to realize.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to leave that distinction to my superiors.¡±


    ¡°Well¡ª yes, you came here for a reason, I imagine?¡±


    ¡°I hope to run an experiment with you and request time in the experimental room.¡± I summarize.


    ¡°Go on,¡± they bite.


    ¡°I have an Idea. I have been in a few practical application rooms and noticed a lot of similarities in the visible rune formations, which gave me this idea based on our time in my mind palace. Can I recreate a practical room inside of my head? It will hopefully help me build my capabilities in time for the exams.¡±


    ¡°I imagine it is possible, but several runes are not visible and restricted. Not that I know much about amalgamations,¡± they lie.


    ¡°Oh? That is disappointing.¡±


    ¡°I have read a journal about a mage that can create an obstacle course in their mind palace. It reports that they can use fire magic with no adverse repercussions,¡± they dissuade, trying to push my interest away.


    ¡°I will have to look into getting the permissions and time in the experimental room?¡±


    ¡°I will see what I can do. Is there anything else?¡±


    ¡°No, that''s it. Thank you for your time, mage Randor.¡± I surrender, inclining my head and exiting the room.


    Mage Rainer¡¯s office is far enough to consider Mage Randor¡¯s aversion. Mages have discouraged me from several paths of inquiry. This time is different because I am pretty sure they are lying. They also offered an alternative, which is a divergence from tradition. If I am wrong, what can go wrong? Can I die? The thought makes me hesitate. The shadows of doubt cast over my conclusions reveal assumptions. What is it they say about assumption?


    I must do the right thing to create an experimental room inside my mind palace. If mage Randor is suspicious, saying I want to build a practical room instead is a lackluster ploy. But I don¡¯t want anyone to combine the dots if the professors talk. A certain level of familiarity with the materials and mechanisms will be necessary¡ª but I can do that. I am already familiar with a few simple techniques from my work with Balduan. There is only one other problem. What if it does whatever I thought it should do? For instance, what if I made a broom and wanted it to fly around, and it did so? Then I put an amalgamation on it that allows it to float; what if it only holds together and doesn''t explode because it is in my mind palace?


    I arrive at a doorless frame with a sign hanging down. Mage Rainer sits at their desk meditatively, a wide grin gracing the world with their ease. Now that I examine their face, I can¡¯t help but familiarize them with Mage Randor in the width of the nose and the pale golden hair. I wonder at the resemblance for a moment, comparing their names and the similarity of their magics. I¡¯ll have to ask one of them. Probably, Rainier, they are more sensible. I hadn¡¯t noticed that Rainier had an eye on me.


    "Oh, hello. I di¡ª I mean, I wasn''t here¡ª I apologize," I sputter while they stare back. "Yes, I have a question, but it is somewhat involved..." I imply, replied by continued silence. "I was reading one of the treatise atypicality journals and found a passage regarding a postulant who has gained access to the order of creation. The young mental Mage has an innate ability to reduce the time it takes to rest. I had originally intended to ask Mage Randor, but the more I consider it, the more I suspect that mental magic can not attain this, at least not alone."


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Strange materials I have not heard of. We can add this to our previous request; it shouldn¡¯t delay our appointment. As you have more of a notion than a theory, we might be able to attempt it.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°I have to say I am intrigued. Gaining so much time in one¡¯s day will greatly benefit all soul practitioners.¡±


    ¡°You might need both mental and soul affinity to accomplish it.¡± I consider aloud, slipping into my excitement.


    ¡°I do have both; most soul mages have a bit of mental affinity, but mental mages don¡¯t share the trait.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°I do not know. It is an observable phenomenon.¡±


    ¡°Is there anyone researching it?¡±


    ¡°It is one of the many forbidden topics. Even professors need permission to do or understand anything besides the basics.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ Must keep creation pure.¡± I muse, tossing out the platitude.


    ¡°Indeed. And the dangers of experimentation-¡±


    ¡°Who decides the permissions?¡±


    ¡°That is not something I can discuss.¡±


    ¡°Why are you willing to experiment on this?¡±


    ¡°I have permissions regarding your education that allow for flexibility.¡±


    "Thank you, Mage. I must get going, but I look forward to seeing you soon."


    ¡°You will do well to keep this divergence between us.¡±


    I always have to pry at what interests me while aloofing my motive, but for once, someone is willing to say something. I am suspicious. Mage Rainer has always been more liberal with their words, but there is a distinct shift. A new mandate regarding my education? The change could be a way of discerning my true intentions. I must be careful, but I can make some easy headway for now.

 Chapter 16

    My soul magic lesson can''t come soon enough, but I have projects to start in the meantime, such as the mental experimental room. I have begun all my preparations. With the slight relief the mages gave, I am confident enough to attempt it. The only material I had to acquaint myself with was a variety of woods more common in the south and accessible in the capital. These woods compose a portion of the runes.


    From a meditative state on my bed, I materialize in my house. This next part will be difficult. I have to create a room that doesn''t exist in this shrine. Doing this to a place I am so familiar with feels like a betrayal, as even a slight shift will change its outward appearance, leading me to make a room outside of visible space, a concept that Shannai explained to me: pocketing space. If she can do it externally, I should be able to do it internally.


    I conceive of a door that goes to a room large enough to contain the experimental runes, a half sphere five meters in diameter. The entry is in a fashion of the sanctum, with the crenulations coming quickly under my finger. I push them outside of my mental palace, into a place that isn¡¯t until I thought it could be. I can feel the space in my head contort, wrenching a grunt from my mouth¡ª causing me to stop. I take my time, as this isn¡¯t going to be easy. I have to push at the same rate that I pull in the ambient mana.


    I freeze¡ª my thoughts¡ª slowing the process as weakness stutters my body with twitches. Just like that, I lose it again. If I don¡¯t restrict the flow somehow, it¡¯s drawing on my magic too fast. I am fashioning every facet simultaneously, which wouldn¡¯t be so hard if I wasn''t also convulsing. It is a faint thing that I can¡¯t grasp. And I have it. It¡¯s in my fingers, but the strain might snap it. I can feel the pressure as that string feeds from me again, slow, slower still, there it is. And now the space around the string wrinkles and contorts. Then, a quick snap as the space anchors to the door.


    Looking around my room, I find the door where I want it. I walk outside my mental projection with worry, yet no protrusions mar my home, only an entry in the wall of my room. I open the door with a smile as I step into a barren stone dome. A shell is a good start, but there is still much to do. The outermost barrier rune is the first rune I form after my magic recovers. It''s the most magic-intensive, composed of materials in a balance of affinities and a half-meter width. I have to stop ten times before I can complete it. After that, the rest is more manageable. I constantly reference my notes, copying more than understanding the most complex formations woven from the three foundational runes.


    I notice certain commonalities in placement, such as the inductor and transference runes in portions of the room where mana coalesces. The inductor runes fill the barrier runes through transference runes. But the inductor runes do something else when placed near runes with similar affinities, concentrating the mana. I finish in six hours.


    Looking at my new experimental room in hopes this effort isn¡¯t a waste, as I imagine a gem. A clear crystal appears in my hand, and I step into the cleansing trough. My first idea for making money is glow gems. This idea came relatively quickly after seeing the concentration effect. More importantly, I know the cost of the silver components, and they sell for a couple of gold, a great opportunity but also a risk. I will have to find a way to mitigate that.


    Once cleansed, I engrave the runes while also infusing them. Light is categorized under creation magic, making the material for one of the inductor runes obvious. I test for an optimal combination, revealing light manas favorability towards elemental runes, a likeness I had guessed at makes for a reassuring confirmation. I am in the middle of considering the reason for this when someone disturbs me.


    ¡°Hm?¡± I yawn, coming out of my trance.


    ¡°You have to get up, or you will be late for your classes. I am not staying around to keep you up. I have to get going,¡± Shannai informs before walking out the door.


    ¡°Well, fuck.¡± I curse, gathering my things to start my day.


    I have a decision to make once the first payment for my tubes comes in. Invest these profits to make enough for the next bimester or wait to see if my tube productivity will make up the difference. I¡¯d be five gold shy of the cost at my current pace. With time, my productivity will increase, but I also have no idea how long Crucus needs my help. If I risk it now, I can make more to invest in my other projects while also losing the reliance on Crucus, but if anyone catches me, I will lose everything. Assuming I can find a safe place to source the materials necessary to craft, I have to invest.


    My decision solidifies by the next day after class, prompting me to sprawl the contents of my drawer across the bed. How do you disguise yourself? The key is not to draw attention, so something plain. I have three sets of fine cloaks, their matte black lotus silk matching the stone that underlines the city, good for hiding from sight but offering little to discourage interest. Instead, I¡¯ll probably use the one I brought from home: well-made cotton with nothing to gander at. The day is cooling off, so a cloak will be less familiar,  yet hiding is paramount.


    ¡°There you are, Vesh, ready to head out?¡± Jer asks as I approach our meeting place, a tea shop outside the sanctum.


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    ¡°I am. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Have you made progress on your plan yet?¡±


    ¡°Well, what do you think this is?¡± I defend, gesturing around.


    ¡°Experimenting,¡± Jer guesses.


    ¡°I have overcome that and found a productive workaround. We will move forward with funding sooner than expected.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s what we are doing? Finding investors.¡±


    ¡°We have an interesting position allowing us to visit differently than planned.¡±


    ¡°You planned, and last I checked, we didn''t have a plan A, so how are we already thinking about a plan B.¡±


    ¡°The hows and whats are yet to work out, but I don¡¯t think it is too complicated. Once we have those, we can do what we need to. Otherwise, it is endless variables.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I can help you with some of those?¡±


    ¡°You know that I am the exposed one here. That¡¯s how our roles have to work out.¡±


    ¡°I just worry about you.¡± Jer sighs after a moment, stretching his hand on his head.


    ¡°I know my stress¡ª With what¡¯s going on, it is hard to keep it all straight.¡±


    ¡°I feel you, and I am having a rough time figuring out anything about-¡±


    ¡°Jer.¡± I scold, interrupting.


    ¡°My bad. I am glad I don¡¯t have your job.¡±


    ¡°I am, too, and I can''t have yours. I tried, remember? Do you think we can pull this off?¡± I fish.


    ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± Jer responds like a caught boot.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, self-determination and that. With this step, at least we might be able to help someone other than ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Fine, I don¡¯t care then.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s more like it.¡±


    Our first stop is more of a hope than an essential part of the plan. Upon entering the city, I noticed a large population of people in poverty. They rarely merged in a meaningful grouping, mostly scattering about the lower districts. The largest of these coalitions is near the city''s entrance and comprises nearly fifty houses of scrap lumber and trash. The construction leans against the wall a few blocks off the main road.


    ¡°There they are,¡± I announce, pointing to the young person I had met when I first entered the city.


    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Jer hesitates.


    ¡°It is a win-win; it will expose us, but we must,¡± I affirm, pulling him towards them.


    They look the same as I remembered, gaunt bodies revealing every bone without modesty, countless struggles stain their torn clothes, and their face assures me again of my plan. It is okay to help people if you and they are both willing.


    ¡°Hello, I am Vesh¡¯dan. It is a pleasure to meet you,¡± I greet, opening my hand to them.


    ¡°Piss off, don''t snatch nuffin from ya.¡± They gruff, spitting at my shoe.


    ¡°I have a proposition for you if you are interested,¡± I began again after restraining my hot-headed friend.


    ¡°I said piss-¡± They rear, standing to defend their solitude before stifling at the gold piece peeking from my palm.


    I affix a hush, ¡°We can go over there, a quiet place to talk, then you will receive this.¡±


    An acrid odor of piss moistens my eyes as the potential partner limps us to the narrow alley. Malnutrition squeezes them into a husk. Their only intact piece of clothing is a pair of shoes, old but well-maintained, newer than anything else on them aside from a hungry gaze with a glint of apprehension, and is that shame?


    ¡°We can do it here if you want,¡± they mumble while pulling off their shirt-


    ¡°No. Not that kind of¡ª oh creation, here I think myself coy, and you thought-¡± I blush, looking to Jer for support.


    ¡°Please hear us out.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± They scoff, pulling their shirt back on. ¡°Whatcha want then?¡±


    ¡°I want to hire you, I want you to recruit people like yourself, and I want to create a business.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know much about business, can''t recon¡¯ I¡¯d be fit help.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need understanding. Instead, loyalty will suffice for everything we give,¡± I assure the young adult.


    ¡°I appreciate that, but what exactly is this job?¡±


    ¡°I will need you to acquire goods and manage your people in doing the same.¡±


    ¡°Goods?¡±


    ¡°The goods you will be acquiring are not illegal. You will buy them on the street,¡± I inform, hearing a slight shift from my stoic friend.


    ¡°And the gold piece?¡± they ask.


    ¡°I will give it to you with your word that you will only use half for yourself.¡±


    ¡°And the other half?¡±


    ¡°You will purchase the specified amounts from shops around the city.¡± I begin by pulling out a map of the city with my instructions. ¡°There will be a different shop for each material that is purchased. They are all marked with colors on the map. Also, you will change the vendor you purchase from and the purchaser each day. That is why the key has seven shops marked for each material. Following so far?¡± I ask, looking at the stunned teen.


    ¡°Yeah, I don''t get why ya¡¯d be doin'' this, but I can get what ya want. I know of these shops and can read just fine.¡±


    ¡°It is a business technique to keep our costs low, but it isn¡¯t important to understand why. Can you do this?¡±


    ¡°For fifty silver? It¡¯s nothing.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, it is your money. I would appreciate it if you would spend some money cleaning yourself up. You will need to seem like someone who can do this.¡± I inform them, moving to leave the alley after handing them the gold coin.


    ¡°Why are you trusting me not to take this? What stops me from taking all of it and running?¡± they call at my back.


    ¡°If you are smart, you will realize that one gold coin is just the beginning of what we can make together.¡± I wager, leaving the alley with a smirk.


    ¡°Are you really that confident?¡± Jer asks as we clear the hearing range.


    ¡°Eh, I am about sixty percent sure they will help us,¡± I clarify.


    ¡°If it is a risk, why even bring them in?¡± Jer points out.


    ¡°We will assist them to gain their loyalty, which eases everything else. It¡¯s not like they can finger us for anything. And if they don¡¯t bite, someone else will,¡± I conclude.

 Chapter 17

    Inside my mind palace is a complete replica of my childhood home. After rudimentary testing, it is clear that my internal magic works in the same sense here as it will function outside. The only difference is the cost needed to perform the task. Take pocketing space as an example: I created an entire room of spatial magic in my mind palace while attempting even a fraction of that in the real world isn''t feasible.


    If I know how to do something correctly, I can test its viability and cost, but my mind will take shortcuts if I don''t know. For instance, when I don''t focus on engraving the runes, the gem still glows and costs me nothing. I don''t have enough data points, but initial testing suggests my magic is ten times stronger in my mind palace.


    The effectiveness of this advantage is invaluable in experimenting with all of my ideas, the next of which incorporates a technique in the fifth volume of artificial amalgamations. The entire fifth volume is devoted to understanding material reactions. The insightful bit I am referencing discusses the soluble barriers that dissolve when the rune formation is triggered. These formations will then react with the ambient mana, causing various effects. Yet this volume doesn''t discuss those effects, so I experiment to find them.


    The risk of this course of action isn¡¯t clarified. I have not had any adverse reaction when runeing in my mind palace. Yet this experimentation aims to find responses that can cause helpful effects when exposed to ambient mana. I can think of a few results that will be helpful: a plume of smoke, a loud noise, or even a bright flash. Yet how can I cause these effects? Can I create a rune formation that heats water mana for steam?


    I create the most superficial reaction,  a rune formation that will explode when over-saturated with mana, which is the easiest because it has the fewest interactions. Any rune with any function would need the means to absorb and circulate mana: this only requires that. I still need to include something. The rune lacks saturation rate and capacity. The inductor rune draws in mana but isn¡¯t dense enough to do anything. What if I just force the oversaturation?¡ªBoom¡ª


    I can¡¯t¡ª the stone covers my vision, but what kind of stone is that? It¡¯s cold concrete, and another voice is drilling into my head, shouting something at me. The shout can¡¯t be authentic because it¡¯s mine, and I''m not. I can remember what was going on, but where I am or even what I am looking at feels¡ª I attempt to open my eyes, and the brightness of the outside dissuades such confidence. The voice invades, corresponding to my fibers, as the wail of air passing over prickles my skin. I attempt to open my eyes again to stare at myself-


    ¡ªBoom¡ª An explosion tears me apart at the seams and hurls me into the wall of the experimental room. The stone slams into me, but the sensation is wrong, jarring instead of painful. It was almost as harsh as waking to see myself lying in a heap on the other side of the room. I jump up and run to the prone form. I am huddling in a ball, undamaged.


    ¡°Am I alright? I mean, are you? Hello? Can I¡ª Can you hear me? Hello?¡± I stumble at the unconscious imposter, shaking them furiously.


    After a few moments, I calm down but continue to prod the figure. A couple of seconds later, they fix their eyes to meet mine. In that second, when our eyes lock, I consider more than I¡¯d later admit: how small I look, how I don¡¯t look nice or kempt, how cold my green eyes are. And then, the huddled figure on the ground evaporates into misty black bits that fizzle away. It takes another moment to understand what happened, but one thing is clear. I am still missing something. I leave the workshop and wander over to my bed. I had started falling asleep in my mind palace, hoping to reduce the time needed to rest, but it had little effect. It is easier to fall asleep in my childhood room, and there aren''t any other benefits.


    My practical lesson with mage Rainier is my only guidance toward significantly reducing my required sleep. I am hesitant that the Mage is willing to assist me in anything experimental, yet there they stand. They trace the runes with their eyes as if looking for something out of place. I clear my throat to grab their attention.


    ¡°Ah, Vesh. Please, come sit.¡± They instruct, not lifting their eyes from the wall.


    ¡°It is good to see you, Rainer. I thought you might change your mind.¡± I exhale, sitting on the cushion.


    ¡°We are here to explore your innate ability to cultivate.¡±


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    ¡°We must all find our way to understanding?¡±


    ¡°As in all things, we must adhere to Creations'' wisdom. Advancing anything is blasphemous.¡±


    ¡°Of course, magical scholarship plays many roles in determining that wisdom. You are studying the forces that shape the universe.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that is exactly why we must show the most caution. We are grasping at things far beyond our comprehension.¡±


    ¡°I can agree to that,¡± I lie, ¡°are we ready to begin?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± They agree, moving away from the wall.


    ¡°Were you looking for something?¡±


    ¡°I am looking for nothing and am satisfied with what I have seen.¡±


    ¡°What are you hoping not to find?¡±


    ¡°Nothing that concerns you. We will begin now.¡±


    ¡°Yes, mage.¡±


    ¡°We will test your understanding of the previous technique.¡±


    ¡°Yes, mage,¡± I affirm, falling into a meditative state.


    ¡°I still can¡¯t sense you, like you aren''t even here.¡±


    ¡°I have an idea that might help,¡± I suggest, opening my mouth.


    ¡°And what is that?¡± they question.


    ¡°I believe if you place your finger in my mouth, you might be able to bypass my defenses,¡± I assert.


    ¡°Hmm, if you are internal, it makes sense. Are you ready?¡± Rainer works out for themselves.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Alright, here we go.¡± They stall for a moment before delicately placing their finger in my mouth.


    The finger cringes against my tongue as I close my mouth around it. There are a variety of hints to conclude; saltiness is the prevailing theory, which means sweat, yet there is a striking taste that hints nothing. Instead, it smacks of bitterness; it curls my tongue, but I refuse to spit out the finger. After a few seconds, Rainer starts pulling, and I oblige.


    ¡°You have successfully entered a state of sufficient detachment,¡± they mutter, wiping their fingers on their robes. ¡°Now, we will explore this together. Soul magic does not follow the same constraints as other magics, yet it is much more difficult to do and qualify for others. We will try the simplest approach, merely relaxing deeper into meditation. Hopefully, this will deepen our understanding of what our souls are doing in this state.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you have some insights that will shorten the distance between our depth of understanding?¡± I think aloud.


    ¡°Since you have asked, I can share that the soul is a deeply personal thing, which experiences you process shape being. There are analogous scenarios, such as your soul being similar to a water filter, which filters out what you do not believe in.¡±


    ¡°Vague, but I think I am grasping it. Our understanding forms our outlook.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Yet how does this translate to sleep? That is a practice that should entail multiple magics.¡±


    ¡°It should? Are there so many processes that happen in our sleep?¡±


    ¡°Our entire beings are rejuvenated. We must focus only on the soul, limiting us.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, perhaps. It can be that the technique is one of many used to reduce sleep requirements.¡±


    ¡°How can our bodies do it? Such an exertion, especially in someone without proper affinities and training, should be impossible.¡±


    ¡°There is a baseline of magical affinities, which optimize rest or healing. We can heal our injured souls and minds similarly. Animals can do the same, but things  fix inefficiently or less effectively without guidance.¡±


    ¡°Guidance is essential, then?¡±


    ¡°In most cases, there are things we can find ourselves, but only with useful tools can we truly discover.¡±


    ¡°And we are imprisoned by understanding.¡±


    ¡°I think I can touch it, a cool stream trickling through my fingers.¡±


    ¡°I can not feel it. I am unsure, even hesitant,¡± I waver. I feel stupid and lost. I don¡¯t have the capacity for all this, thereby justifying the bigotry. I am failing, and that mentality feeds my failure¡­¡±


    My soul is not a place, and I am unequipped to handle it. It anchors nothing to the physical embodiment that forms my thoughts or imposes my will with all I am disposed of or empowered towards. No, my soul comprises all I believe and hope to be, a fundamentally intangible miasma, only evident in the shifting of itself or even in its formulation. It is a constant state that is and isn¡¯t or a disembodied betweenness. I am not enough. The door stands ajar before me, but I fear a single step will shatter me. Even a peek is too much of the crisp reality overcoming me. I am still-


    ¡°Vesh, it is time to leave,¡± Rainer interrupts.


    ¡°We¡ª just started,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°I believe we both slipped into a trance. I am unsure if this is what we are seeking.¡±


    ¡°Have you been in a trance like that before?¡±


    ¡°I have not, and I do feel rested. You have permission to attempt this.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mage. Will we be holding another practical lesson later this week?¡±


    ¡°We will postpone until we find the effects of this. Be cautious by instructing someone to wake you.¡±


    ¡°I will mage.¡±


    A soothe subdues my steps. It is not like a whole night''s sleep of wakefulness but more of a feeling after a day spent leisurely. My concerns dim, not by repression or acceptance, but with the frivolity of openness. Let concepts themselves dread my passing, for I will forge my world, or at least I will try.

 Chapter 18

    I awake before the summer sun, feeling completely rested. I am unsure how long I slept, but it couldn''t have been eight hours if the sun hadn''t risen, which means a tentative success. Imagine all I can do with an extra two hours every day. For appearance''s sake, I lay back to enter my experimental room. After the first shipment of materials, I devote all my free time to rune crafting. I split this between rods and glow gems, taking me almost three times the magic to rune glow gems. The magic-intensive part of this comes from engraving.


    The accessibility of the surface you are runeing makes a distinct difference. This first amalgamation has portions of its rune formation under the surface. Two parallel inductor runes circle the heart of the gem. Two slices of these runes graze the surface, creating transference runes to act as the trigger. In my mind palace, this is as easy as picturing the material. In the real world, I have to meticulously remove the rune print with a tendril of destruction magic while it is in my mouth; worlds harder.


    I destroy half of my quartz before the next week to successfully rune the other half into glow gems. With the payment from Crucus, even reduced because of all the glow gems I am working on, I make twice as much money as I would with the tubes alone, solving the second step of my plan.


    Once I have a batch of glow gems, I endeavor to do the riskiest part of this plan: selling them. The sale of any magical good produced by an unlicensed mage is punishable by death. Even with the contact Yeln gave me, I procrastinated for a few days, putting off the chore. What if this gets me and everyone involved killed? I wasn¡¯t as worried about the orphans because I was the only link to them, but this could get Jer and this person killed.


    After considering it, I decided to go alone. It is better to limit exposure when possible. I locate the shop in a lower district, a pawn brokerage with few shops throughout the city. Blinky¡¯s Bobbles is in a dingy part of the city, with streets loitering people suffering the cost of prosperity. If you wish for rain, don¡¯t hate wetness. The assortment of goods is a hodgepodge in terms of quality and variety. I spot a few odds and ends of interest only to stall the decision.


    ¡°Hello, sr.¡±


    ¡°Good on ya. Got something good in that bag?¡± The gruff counter attendant asks, eyeing me, then the bag.


    ¡°I am a friend of Yeln, looking for goods with-¡±


    ¡°Hold on, I¡¯ll get my boss.¡± They grunt, making me guess they worked on commission.


    A significant person wearing a dark silk suit with a light honey undertone enters from the back room. Their deep wrinkles contrast a fit form, and aged eyes tell harsh realities. That look expresses a gruesome practicality, a willingness to justify means with ends. It is an intense experience to be examined by someone so imposing, to be picked apart as if you are undoubtedly one of two things.


    ¡°Yeln sent ya?¡±


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    ¡°Yeah, I have a missive from them. You can probably assert the validity of my claim from this.¡± I hope, handing over the letter.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ The stamp seems valid enough; com¡¯on then.¡± They determine while moving me back. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what you got.¡± They command, after leading me into a cramped store room with a tiny desk.


    ¡°I will appreciate more respect in our dealings, as they can be substantial. We will need to get our percentages set.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± They laugh. ¡°Alright, I don''t mean to be brusque, little one. You clearly don¡¯t understand stuff like this. We can¡¯t determine a reasonable percentage if I don¡¯t see the goods.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I am unaware. Thank you for the information.¡±


    ¡°Creations¡¯ will, is this a glow gem?¡±


    ¡°It is; I can get five a week.¡±


    ¡°That will work for a time, keeps demand high, and helps with suspicions. Are these stolen?¡± They shift as they ask the last part.


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Good, we can do this. But this is a limited market. The people who can afford to purchase glow gems won''t require this, which means we have to sell to people who, for whatever reason, are restricted access to things like this. That means we will have a considerable markdown from the price. On top of that, there is a market solubility for products like this. There is a limit to the total number of units we can sell.¡±


    ¡°This sounds like it¡¯s going to be a large cut. How much do you want?¡±


    ¡°Sixty Forty.¡±


    ¡°I agree with me getting Sixty?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious? How often do you get clean amalgamations that you can sell? You have to see that I am doing more work here.¡±


    ¡°I won''t see you doing more work, but I will see myself taking more risk, the only vulnerable part of this, which validates sixty percent.¡±


    ¡°How about fifty-fifty? Keep it even.¡±


    ¡°That sounds good to me,¡± they agree too quickly.


    ¡°Alright, the market is one gold; discount that for the product''s origin by thirty?¡±


    ¡°Thirty-five,¡± they correct.


    ¡°So fifty of the remaining sixty-five? Thirty-two silver and fifty copper,¡± I summate.


    ¡°At least you know your numbers.¡±


    ¡°It is less than I was hoping for.¡±


    ¡°Do you want any copper?¡±


    ¡°No, bits are fine.¡±


    ¡°But before I go, I¡¯ll need a cover for being here. I''ll probably grab something from the showroom. Also, I don¡¯t wish to come here again. We must set a convenient and covert place.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a place in mind?¡±


    ¡°We need a place just inside the Sanctum campus, close enough to be safe.¡±


    ¡°I own a hotel near the sanctum. I have a trusted attendant there; ask for Weasel. You can find it in the market square, called The Regal. You can handle the rest with my attendant.¡± They conclude, guiding me back through the door to the showroom.


    ¡°Dulfus get¡¯em thirty-two and five bits silver when they have picked out a gift.¡±


    ¡°A gift?¡± I smile.


    ¡°Keep it under a silver. I ain¡¯t running a charity.¡±


    ¡°I will pick something modest. Thank you, sr. I am¡ª should we do names?¡±


    ¡°You are green; call us Bilby, and we¡¯ll call you Greenie.¡±

 Chapter 19

    Moves made, I slip back into a routine, spare time dying in pursuit. The new meditation technique gives me two extra hours daily, so I still have some freedom. Classes diminish as the bimester progresses, all but destruction magic showing only open office hours and practical lessons until the end of the term, further freeing my time. Still, the classwork and new material keep up. If anything, the increasing specialization makes everything more complex as it has less crossover with my other subjects. If not for those two hours, I would squash under the workload.


    I am returning to the dorm with the newest of said loads. I should have taken out fewer books, but that is hindsight speaking. Shannai sits in our dorm, which is unusual for her. Bumping into each other in the mornings is the majority of our interactions. There she is, sitting on her bed and facing away from me. I set my books on the desk and beeline for my bed.


    ¡°Are you even going to ask?¡±


    ¡°I try not to pry, my father always said-¡±


    ¡°So your parents ¡®Knew better¡¯ too?¡± she scoffs.


    ¡°I think they all hope to. If I were a parent, I would want to guide my child. My father thought moving to the city to enter the tournament was an awful Idea. His path probably wasn¡¯t bad, yet not right for me.¡± I ramble, hoping to dissuade the conversation.


    ¡°I know what you mean. My mother wants the same thing from me...¡±


    ¡°And you chose another path?¡± I relent.


    ¡°Not exactly; my family is less understanding than your father. They gave me a chance but insisted I should fall in line if I fail.¡±


    ¡°At the tournament?¡± I guess.


    ¡°Yes, I was stuck going to the sanctum once I failed the cut.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s funny,¡± I think aloud.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, our situation is similar except for our view of the Sanctum. You are trying to escape this, whereas, for me, this is a lifeline from the life I was trying to escape. Without the sanctum, I would have a much harder time¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe you can show me Willow¡¯s Grove sometime. That farm sounds peaceful.¡±


    ¡°It is a slow life.¡±


    ¡°Slow sounds nice... I¡¯ve got a favor to ask.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, I will close my eyes, and I am sorry if I fall asleep before your question finishes.¡± I mumble, curling around my blanket.


    ¡°I have this function to attend, and you could be my guest. Would you want to go with me?¡°


    ¡°What sort of function?¡°


    ¡°It''s of a fancier variety. Do you mind?¡°Shannai pitches, plopping down on my bed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I grumble.


    It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t like Shannai. She is nice enough for a noble, but that doesn¡¯t mean the company she keeps is the same. For all I know, ninety percent of the people there oppose my existence here; add to that the question of her motives. Her mother, the speaker for Sheik Sage, used her connections to connect us. I assumed this was a ploy to get someone close to me, but inconsistencies abrade the act. Can she be trusted?


    ¡°I doubt people there will like you bringing me home, ¡° I inquire as she helps me remove my robe.


    ¡°I doubt I will care. Though if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind. I¡¯ll be there, but you must buy me something nice to wear.¡±


    ¡°Really? And?¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±


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


    ¡°Ah, it is the first Menday of the break in the evening. We can go shopping earlier that day.¡° Discordance rings the sentiment of lack, with no excitement or even relief.


    ¡°Mmm-hmmm.¡± I nod, slipping into the covers of sleep.


    The final weeks of the bimester blur together. Experimentations in the morning followed by a full day in the workshop and studying to top it all off. Growing certainty affirms a fourth rune, decelerating my progress. There is no mention of any such rune in my studies, and broaching the topic with Crucus is too risky, leaving me with a problem.


    Nevertheless, I progress, particularly in the amount of wealth I accrue. An increase in ability and time doubles my productivity for the weeks. On top of that, I have cultivated an entire team of helpful people with skills to assist my growth. However, there is one snag: my supply chain. They have yet to respond to my last message. The only contact point is a drop near the shopping district I frequent.


    The last message does not contain pressing news that requires an immediate response, but the silence is worrying. I can''t contact my partner directly, so I must wait until I hear back. The material drops are still on time, so I am less worried about the law and more about infighting or betrayal. Still, what can I do? So, I refocus on the upcoming exam.


    ¡°I am to inform you that you will take your exams in each pre-requisite class as normal, but your practical exam will take place apart from the others. Phylius will notify you of when and where that will be.¡± Mage Gallah huffs, abruptly ending while muttering something about messengers as he walks to the front of the classroom.


    ¡°Ok,¡± I mumble as I follow in after him.


    The destruction magic final is easy enough. The only thing tripping me up relates to external destruction practitioners, such as safe flow rates, core casting, and proper source selection. I assume that these are placed into my exam by Gallah himself, probably to make sure I can''t get a perfect score on the theoretical. I do as well as possible, guessing at only two, while the rest of the exam is acceptable.


    Elemental magic follows, which is a freebie considering my level of specialization. The test revolves around internal manipulation and material affinities, with an exciting essay prompt regarding inner transmutation and the body modifications needed to survive them. I finish earlier than the pack, leading to the only enticing exam, my death magic exam.


    Arriving at the familiar shack, I observe a desk in the clutter arranged to fit it. The rearranging is haphazard, with stuff thrown about. Crucus stands to the side, tapping his foot incessantly as I shuffle to the desk.


    ¡°Why so glum, chum?¡±


    ¡°This absurd test that I had to write up for one person. Now they insist I sit here and ensure you do not cheat while my transistors go¡ª as work goes undone.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll try to finish this quickly.¡±


    ¡°Please do. But I refuse to sit around and watch you do so. If you need me, I will be in the back,¡± Crucus huffs.


    The test is too easy, only covering some of the first three volumes of Artificial Amalgamations. Waste, even my elemental class had some interesting essay questions, but this garbage? The single essay question asks me to explain how an inductor rune functions. I enter the back room to notify Crucus of my completion, only to find him hunched over a table.


    ¡°Could have done that in my sleep,¡± I comment.


    ¡°Yes, well. I have been rather busy and do not have time for nonsensical trifles for plebs. I can understand why we have these tests in larger classes, yet with a single initiate?¡±


    ¡°Honestly, I wasn¡¯t too worried about these exams; I was more concerned about the practicals.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have heard about this, your poor performance, that is. I know some of what the test entails, though I will not share that.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I won''t ask. I''m just nervous, especially considering that, at least after this bimester, things should normalize.¡±


    ¡°As far as things can be normal with you around.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Am I so abnormal?¡±


    ¡°Yes, quite, but let us not dwell on your lineage. You made those tubes well.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°What is the trick to the increased flow rates?¡± they question.


    ¡°It is a macro technique called ambient efficiency.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. I know it well. Using such a technique in a basic rune would never have crossed my mind. Quite clever, even considering the efficiency you have made a substantial amount.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been improving.¡±


    ¡°Close to the belt? I don¡¯t blame you. I would be more likely to commend your caution than condemn it these days.¡±


    ¡°These days?¡±


    ¡°Ah. It is nothing for a pleb to worry about. I wish to tell you what a good job you did¡ª only had to fix a few.¡±


    ¡°Will you be needing more?¡±


    ¡°Yes, though I will probably only need a hundred more. Perhaps then¡ª or at least I had hoped we could work on another aspect of the project together.¡±


    ¡°Really? I think that will be agreeable. I am rather curious as to what you have been working on.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you will not be learning that. Just helping with a different aspect.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    The following four exams are equally as easy. The most challenging question requires you to label a diagram of the haim body for creation magic. The goal to pass any exam is eighty percent. Yet, you need ninety percent to continue down that specialization, leading me to consider which classes, aside from amalgamations, I will continue to study. After my final exam, mage Phylius hands me a small scroll directing me to the same building used for the entrance exam.


    A wet bag of nerves arrives at the familiar door with shaking hands. I enter the lobby after fumbling with the knob and look at the desk attended by the person I had met there earlier. Upon noticing, they wave me through the door leading down the hallway to the room where I awoke last time.


    During my entrance exam, they must have supplanted mental magic in me early or as we walked down the hallway since I don''t remember sitting in this chair, making mental magic only that can bypass my innate defenses. I sit in the chair and ready myself with full knowledge of what will happen.


    ¡°Lay back and relax,¡± they instruct.


    After several moments of silence, nothing happens.


    ¡°Are you fighting me?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe so.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± They huff, lifting their hands from my head and exiting the room.


    Moments later, they re-enter with a few other mages, each taking a turn placing their hand on my head, retreating to a corner of the room to converse. The snippets I hear imply that they are having trouble entering my mind. Finally, they all come over and place their hands on each other in a chain leading to the oldest, who sits beside me.


    The wrinkled hands land on my head before their owner speaks softly, ¡°I need you to focus on lowering your defenses and letting us in.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    The rising pressure in the spots they touch is discomforting, almost like two portions of my head collapsing into my mind, compared to letting someone into my mind palace, where the latter felt like opening a door, this felt like tearing down a wall. It''s difficult to concentrate on opening my mind to the sensation until, several minutes later, a crashing crack throws me out of consciousness.


    ¡°You will be in darkness while we set everything up. Try to stay calm.¡± A voice silences the silence, distorting High Mage Castillio¡¯s baritone. ¡°After much consideration, we saw fit to do it this way, primarily in response to your unusual affinities. We felt a single exam would be the fairest way to measure your capabilities simultaneously. Be wary, for danger lies ahead.¡±

 Chapter 20

    As Castillio¡¯s voice cuts off, a tarnished red light illuminates. I can see a circular monochromatic stone room with no ceiling or at least no visible top; instead, a layer of darkness blocks whatever is above. A wooden door is the only exit, an entrance into the challenge. Examining the walls, I find no markings or degradation on the hewn mix of block sizes held together with no mortar. Inspecting myself yields my dagger and two metal tubes, identical to those I have been tirelessly engraving.


    Through the wooden door, three paths lay in front of me: one to the left, one in front, and one to the right. I randomly choose after marking the corners with my dagger. The hallway on the left goes on for twenty meters before coming to another intersection, which I again check. Returning to the first section, I ensure the chip remains. Alright, all is going well.


    After meticulously following each of the three initial paths and nine subsequent diverging paths, I conceive a problem. Back at the starting area, sitting in a meditative position, I pray the newest path doesn''t mean what I think it does. Within my mind palace, metal tubes trace out the courses I¡¯ve already traversed, leading to discovering an intersection that doesn''t.


    This place is a maze whose pieces lay disconnected in front of me. This revelation does not preclude the idea of connecting deeper along. It did, however, beg the question of how exactly a maze can have a solution if it isn¡¯t bound and, therefore,  you cannot map it. Or can it be mapped? Or is it not a maze? Assuming the pathways don''t change, the lack of interaction with each other could be unconventional. For example, if I teleport to a different section upon choosing an initial path. If that is the case, I would need to find a connected pass before I could map anything.


    Encountering my first challenge in the thirteenth consecutive hallway, I¡®ve been examining the ground, and upon marking the fourth successive turn down the left pathway, I spot a slight crease. A touch assures me that it is indeed present. With no other distinguishing triggers, I press my hand on the stone. Nothing happens. Re-positioning myself, I depress my foot against the floor. After a few moments of gradually increasing the pressure, the floor snaps. I lift my foot and pull it back.


    The floor falls away into a pit with a bubbling substance at the bottom, leaving a ten-meter gap to the other end of the hallway. The indistinguishable liquid seems less than hospitable, but the true terror is another aspect of the pit. I scooch up on my belly to peer into the void. Looking at it from this angle, I can see under the floor and walls in front of me, which is only a foot thick, informing me that this entire maze suspends over this roiling pit.


    The horror isn¡¯t any added inconvenience, but seeing the corridors¡ª seeing underneath everything. It momentarily disconcerts my sense of balance, as if the revelation will suck me into the pit. I pull myself back with a sheen on my head.


    Another dilemma is the possibility of a new trap or even a sequence after this initial one. With little recourse, if that is the case, I will be left on the other side, only able to move forward. Any choice which pushes towards an outcome will be a bad one. No, I have an idea. I can gain resources from the components and triggers of these traps. The false stone floor helps test the stability of the far side of this gap. The pattern is clear after checking the two other passageways: a trap upon entering a certain subsequent turn number.


    This strange development, placing traps in such an obvious pattern, will make them less likely to be triggered after the first encounter. The middle passage has pitfalls after the fifth turn instead of the fourth, and the far right has one on the sixth turn. They are all similar in design, with weight inducing a pit trap. The idea that these paths aren''t connected is becoming likely. The only distinguishing feature I have found is this difference. Also, the left courses have fewer turns and dead ends.


    I considered the problem while arranging the passageways I had mapped in my mind palace. The only reasonable conclusion is that some pathways are shorter and more dangerous while others are longer and less dangerous. My entire effort in trying to map this out has been worthless. The clear option is the least harmful passageway, which is the far right at six turns.


    Though a nagging concern begs at the back of my mind, a possible fail condition could be the amount of time taken to complete the test. Deciding on a centrist approach, I go down the middle passage, a mix of distance and danger. I form a crowbar out of one of the tubes, using it to deconstruct the trap and break it apart into smaller pieces. I drag those to the middle passageway in my undershirt and toss the chunks of stone over the gap. Within fifty pounds, I find security. My running hop takes me over the ten-meter gap to land among the rubble.


    A deeper understanding can only help, swaying my mood from the melancholy of doubt and concentrating my efforts on pushing further down this one pathway. Three out of four paths end, so I constantly have to backtrack. On the tenth successive turn down the middle path, a new challenge arises, one that pulls free the arteries holding up my heart.


    Chirping clicks echo above, punctuating a rhythm of beating wings. I curse my lack of attention, halting my forward momentum and shifting the weight of my back foot. I instinctively reach to find the handles of two rapiers at my side. Unsheathing them floods me with a familiar fuel until I notice that these are not my new black rapiers but the old wooden ones.


    The sounds of the creatures approaching me vary but originate from one general spot. Once the sounds are upon me, it''s easier to tell precisely where they descend, reminding me of a screaming animal. Sometimes, when my father and I are in the woods, we hear a willow panther catch its query. The Panthers are honorable and end the encounter quickly, but the screams always ensue; pain persists no matter how painless things mean to be.


    Wishing not to be between whatever makes that sound and the undiscovered part of the pathway, I turn around to run back while revising a strategy. There are too many to fight off, or there seem to be. A plan B forms in my head as I flee. I consider my options before deciding the quickest tunnel will be the best option. Flapping screams haunt me, and distance is indiscernible in echoey corridors. I avoid all the pitfalls until I reach the trapless portion and pick up speed.


    Moving out of earshot of the screams gives some reduction in heart rate, so much so that I even crack a smile as I loop back around the main room into the far left tunnel. I am adamantly against unnecessary violence, even if these are not living creatures. The skills I have honed inflict damage in non-fatal areas of people, not animals.


    Several scenarios run through my head, ending with me killing. I frantically reason for alternatives. The first thought that comes to my mind is a substance to obscure the area, though I have no time or materials to create any sort of smoke. On deeper consideration, I realize that won''t be effective because these bat-like creatures use echolocation. That opens possibilities, prompting me to grab the other metal tube from my pocket and put it in my mouth.


    I have to slow my pace to keep an eye out for the upcoming threats, theorizing that the bats'' pursuit is either stuck in their tunnel or slow after a certain distance. The task is to create an indentation at the top and close off the edge of the chamber. Popping the tube out of my mouth, I blow¡ª the sound is off. I attempt twice before locating a faint pitch resembling the bats. I hope this will work, but their emanations edge my hearing, so it may still be off. The effort diminishes my creation magic reserves, slowing my steps until it replenishes.


    The whistle is as close as it will be. I am coming up on the eighth turn. Whether to run down the corridor filled with creation knows what while bats herry or find a corner and fight. Choosing the former, I stretch in step and grip a whistle with my lips as I round the turn, scanning in front of me before adopting a defensive stride.


    The screams come again, so I tear out a mighty whistle blow, the bats who¡¯ve adapted quickly enough and avoided those who didn¡¯t fly straight at my head. I run with one rapier above and one scraping the ground before me. Grazes carve my upper body into flailing. I can¡¯t use my creation magic to broaden the whistle frequency while running from the group of flying screeching things. Their attacks lessen as my trap detector snags on a slit¡ª I leap faithfully, landing clear of the trap before stumbling to keep the whistle in my grin. I blow and blow until the attacks stop, two tunnels and six traps later.


    A glance back confirms a few dozen dark objects on the ground. It isn¡¯t compelling enough, and I note a slight, almost indiscernible, difference in the chirps from the remaining creatures. I curse again. If they have a wide range of frequencies, another whistle is needed. Since that isn¡¯t an option, I¡¯ll change the frequency with the magic I¡¯ve regenerated. On the bright side, the population of bats has dwindled by a third, and the remainder is wary enough to give me room.


    Splitting attention between looking for traps, deflecting the persistent hunters, and working the whistle, I can progress down the paths. I lose several chunks of my flesh to their little claws and teeth. Adding to the succumbing dread in my core, the traps past this point escalate, a row of five snares placed closely together, forcing a stuttering high knee to surmount, costing blood and speed.


    At the end of the third corridor, my heart submerges. Five passageways of choice halt me, ¡°Fuck,¡± I curse.


    Which direction to go? The bats are no longer harrying me. Looking back, I see that the corridor I¡¯d exited is empty. I sigh, sit, and tear the sleeve from my robes into cloth strips for the bat bites, wincing as I tie them tight. Re-examining the situation, my prospects dim, like that day on the road¡ª


    The first two paths I choose lead to dead ends in one turn. The third path, however, leads me to another fourth turn, which, being more aware this time, I knew to hold an increased challenge from the others. The task presents a situation in which you need to be hyper-cautious, possibly increasing the difficulty of that situation to see the extent of your problem-solving ability. In the upcoming challenges, there will be bats and traps and a new addition, or something else entirely?


    I refocus my attention¡ª will rules mind. If the traps remain, they will be well within my ability. The unknown is something I can not prepare for, but I can consider the obstacles thus far, which gives me the idea to split the remaining tube and graft it to the point of my weapons. I take the bit of metal left and toss it in my mouth, using my tongue and teeth to mold it over the tip. The latter will cut a snare if I catch it.


    The tip of my rapier tests the ground as I crawl around the next turn to an empty hallway. I hesitantly creep, wary of any indication on the three visible surfaces composing the border of my reality. About halfway down, I hear a click and a quiet hiss. Frantically looking around, I see nothing until a gout of orange flame bursts from the walls inches before me. I instinctively fall back on my butt while the heat from the trap reddens my face. The screaming sound of the bats soon follows along with a vicious roar, a hauntingly familiar roar, the roar of a willow panther.


    ¡°Fuck.¡±


    The hallway behind me darkens with an undulating mass of bats while the fire trap ahead dies, revealing an abnormally well-built willow panther stalking forward. Whistles in mouth, I blow all the life in my lungs through them. The noise has the added benefit of agitating the panther, though possibly that''s not so much of an advantage. I don''t glance behind myself to see how effectively it impacts the bats. Though the bats will overwhelm me in seconds, the willow panther is the threat.


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    This difficulty, killing or even attacking such an animal, is abhorrent. Of course, some Willow panthers die in accidents. It is akin to killing another conscious life, which I have done before. Memories of the person flash before being quickly strangled and set back in place. These are sacred creations of creation, the protector of the willows, my allies.


    I have moments before the bats are on me. The Panther''s size hampers its movements in this enclosed space, a disadvantage to maneuvering around leaves above or underneath. Choosing the former, I blow on my whistles and jump over the panther using the distraction. The panther shoots into my trajectory as soon as my feet lift.


    I am swiped from the air, crashing from their paw to the floor. In the collision, the panther successfully sinks two claws into my chest. I swallow the whistles, giving me the metal for sheets to form across my forearm as I leverage the claw. Luckily, the metal plating is enough to stop the lacerations, but the force fractures my arm.


    I am¡ª fight pours from new openings in my chest. But the pain is waiting to see if I''ll die before bothering. The panther is right on top of me, determined to rip off a piece of me. I am confident that this is the end of the test. Proving every noble who says I am not strong enough to be here. My thoughts slow when the panther freezes while closing its jaw on me. It takes me a second to realize that I have slowed my perception of time. The drain is the only passing sensation.


    I have two options: try to kill the panther or get past it another way. I cannot see another way to get past the panther¡ª not anything. I try to console myself with the discarnate panther, with the fact that they will not feel actual pain, how painlessly they will die. I fail to reassure myself as my rapier falls to resignation.


    The Panther¡¯s jaws close around my arm as I plunge my tool of creations¡¯ mercy into their chest. Their jaws fail to penetrate the metal as they crunch, though they successfully pulverize the bones. Screaming is strange because one can do so without registering said pain. With time dilation, I aim between two ribs, straight through the Panther''s heart. Time snaps back, my entire body crushed by the panther now dead atop me.


    Extricating myself from underneath the carcass is a taxing endeavor, each movement encouraging my broken body to protest. My tears need not be mutually exclusive,  dripping freely from my face for both as they mix into mingled pools of blood. It is clear that my internal creation magic is draining to prevent death; however, this leaves me on the floor, under a panther, with several broken bones and unresponsive muscles. I can hardly lift the panther a centimeter off my body before my arms give.


    After hours of struggling, my energy replenishes enough to crawl from underneath the panther. Unconscious bats scatter the ground, demonstrating the limit to their frequency range. I stumble through the corridor. Even with my knowledge of healing magic, my capacity still restricts how much I can repair. Some creation magic is reserved to remove the metal from my body and recreate the whistles.


    My shattered arm pulses, but the itchy new skin on my forearm somehow distracts from it. I limp my way to the next challenge, confident I will fail, with no possible way to complete the challenge. I work on properly healing the arm as I go, occasionally requiring me to shift bits of bone by hand. The bone isn¡¯t as compliant in pulling together as skin or muscle.


    Mood sinks my cheeks, though it does not determine my path. Each staggering step rages against my inevitable failure. I snuff out the remaining traps until the next turn. Upon reaching, I examine the floor thoroughly until I find the fire trap. The pressure plate set into the ground is indistinguishable unless you are at an angle, and it does not take significant pressure to trigger.


    By the sixteenth turn, affirmation firms my footfalls. Failure is the likely outcome, but inevitability is a lie. There is a way to succeed if you don''t accept defeat. If you can¡¯t see such a thing, try to deepen your understanding of the situation or the variables involved. This outlook is one of my father, as his commitment bolsters my bravado, standing my hobble straighter as I cradle the wall till the next corner. Instead of finding another hallway, identical to every hallway I¡¯d found up to this point, a door rests twenty meters in front of me.


    The double doors are grey stone, identical to the walls of the passageways. Intricate circular designs texture the surface. After looking it over, I recognize the runes, but the formations are bizarre. They are almost like the banners in the sanctum but intertwined. I grin, committing every last marking to my mind palace in a book entitled Door Runes.


    The runes I seek concern the flow of magic through the formation, the transference runes. I have options: try to brute-force my way through the door, decipher the purpose of the other runes, or cut off the appropriate function. Part of this interweaves the door with enough oomph to discourage direct tampering.


    Draining the formation would be possible if the border was accessible, though I assume it is either at the back of the door or, more likely, on the frame. The problem is trickier than I initially imagined. The dagger tip heats in my mouth as the puzzle mulls over my mind.


    It takes a surprisingly small amount of elemental magic to heat the tip red before I press it against the door, something I will have to consider later. My dagger slices through the metal smoothly, gouging a furrow through the desired transference rune. The inductor rune it leads to will continue to absorb mana until the rune formation grows unstable and releases it violently. The rune starts to glow, prompting retreat. Once it starts hissing, I turn to give the door a wide berth, not feeling safe until the turn stands between us.


    A crack reverberates through the world, chattering teeth. Back down the corridor, the door caves inwards with a new hole where the mana storage used to be. The joy of completing this puzzle elicits a chuckle. Move the broken bits a few centimeters before squeezing through the crack. An octagonal room on the other side of the door confines twenty shorter humanoid creatures.


    Their faces are oblong and angular, their hands tip with purple nails, and their skin has a slight green undertone. They all stand under a meter tall. Aside from that, their characteristics vary greatly, like the shades of green in their skin or how their noses stick out at angles. The strangest is the animal carcasses, sighting which turns my stomach as the skin-jackets jostle at their movements. There are piles of stuff in one corner. Is this the last challenge? Do I have to kill these beings now, too? No.


    ¡°Stupid. You broke our door. We will kill you and take all of your things as recompense.¡± The largest barks as the rest rush me.


    ¡°I apologize about the door. I didn¡¯t know it was yours. I¡¯m just trying to find a way out of this place.¡± I attempt, standing up straighter and adjusting the tatters of my robe.


    The group pauses at the remark, everyone looking to the largest. ¡°Apologize? No matter, it''s probably a trick anyway. We kill you, and we take all your things.¡± They command, looking to those around them for support as they all brandish crude weaponry.


    ¡°There''s no need for that. I can give you all my stuff if I go through that door behind you. Honestly, you can have it all. I''d like to express my sincere apologies about the door as well. I can fix it, perhaps?¡± I consider looking at the door.


    ¡°Oh? Well...¡± The leader again halts in their advance, looking over to a subordinate. ¡°It will be easier. Wait, you¡¯re just tricking. I know you¡¯re people. Blind fools the lot of ya,¡± they condemn.


    ¡°What if they aren''t tricking? If the door doesn''t get fixed, the white death comes,¡± voices a mob member towards the back.


    ¡°The white death will be upon us before this dirty human can do anything. That¡¯s why we should kill it and take its stuff before we all die.¡± The leader argues.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we need to be bigoted, oh... I am dirty. That is a lovely plan, truly fraught with consideration. I believe the white death you speak of has already died. That is how this haim got so dirty.¡± As I finish my last plea, revenant admiration stares back at me from little green faces.


    ¡°You kill the white death?¡± The leader whispers, as if afraid someone overhearing them will bring destructions¡¯ wrath down.


    ¡°I did. You can check if y¡ª¡±


    ¡°A trap.¡± The leader retorts, cutting me off.


    ¡°Fine! I can get it, I guess, and bring it over here to you?¡±


    The leader laughs loudly before pulling together the people around them and holding an intense discussion. This interlude gives a moment to think about the situation. There are three races on Terminus, but none are like these people. Closer inspection of their skin color recalls a story my father told me about his service on the wall. About the destructive races¡ª But this couldn¡¯t be them.


    A couple of years older than I am now, in officer training on the Wall, an attack occurred before escaping towards the mountains to the north with Balduan. Monstrous creatures swarmed the wall with a greenish tint to their skin. Though the skin is similar, the other aspects described are nothing like these people-


    ¡°Will we still get all your things right now?¡± One of them asks, interrupting my


    thoughts.


    ¡°Of course.¡± I offer magnanimously, renewing their debate.


    ¡°Fine than haim. If things are as said, and your stuff is ours, we will let you through this door without killing.¡± The leader allows, with a smile.


    Retrieving the willow panther''s body sucks well enough for a weak smile back before setting off. Muscles scream as I strain to heft it. However, the most challenging part is not dragging three hundred pounds of animal.


    The difficulty is surrendering the remains of such a beautiful and beloved creature to beings that will desecrate it. Re-examining the situation yields no other resolution. The calculation: desecrating the remains is less morally untenable than harming life to protect them.


    ¡°Will you at least look out here so I don''t have to pull them through the door?¡± I huff from my knees as I reach the door.


    ¡°To kill such a thing and kill it precisely. You must be a chief yourself, a chief of Haim?¡±


    ¡°I am grand and mighty. I do a great many mightily¡ª grand things.¡± I lie in a full-chested haughtiness, channeling High Mage Gallah.


    ¡°Yes. Yes. Come this way. You may go to the door, but you mustn¡¯t forget to give us all your stuff.¡±


    ¡°This is the blade that killed the wil¡ª the white death.¡± I exaggerate, carefully unsheathing my rapier and presenting it to the chief. ¡° And these treasured items are forged from the strings of fate. Two whistles with the magical powers to stun the bats. All you have to do is blow into this end.¡± I instruct, freezing the chief and onlookers with my word.


    ¡°You have enriched us. In this hole where we reside, death is life, but these gifts¡ªI beseech the Haim, tell me of your name so we may honor it in our songs forever.¡±


    ¡°I am Vesh¡¯dan, first of my name, slayer of death.¡±


    ¡°You are a good haim, a rare breed indeed. Please take this token of our friendship.¡± The chief announces, handing me a circular stone chip with three equidistant horizontal lines and a vertical line running up the middle.


    ¡°What may I call you, and your people for that matter?¡±


    ¡°We are the Gobble-kin, and I am Chief.¡±


    ¡°Well, thank you, Chief. I have been honored by your friendship.¡±


    ¡°You did say you would give us all of your stuff?¡± the chief reminds me, stopping me before I can leave and gesturing to my robes.


    ¡°You want my robes? They won¡¯t fit you, though?¡±


    After a moment of silence, resignation strips me naked. The eyes of everyone, not on me but on the tatters pulling from bruised skin. Their attention is not uncomfortable because their nature is curious, not malicious. After giving away everything, the exit is accessible. There''s only one rune on this door, an activation rune that spans the center of the two doors. A hand finishes the formation, swinging the door open and pulling me into the shadows beyond. A familiar chair in a familiar room with a familiar face greeting me. The healer''s white robes are pristine, as always.


    ¡°Please tell me I¡¯m not naked,¡± I laugh.


    ¡°No? Should you be?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m grateful that I¡¯m not. How long was I under this time? It felt like a little under five days.¡±


    ¡°Usually, without the normal stimuli to indicate time passage, most have difficulties gauging how long they are under.¡±


    ¡°I just counted.¡±


    ¡°The seconds?¡±


    ¡°At least until I got to sixty... Do you know how I did?¡± I probe after a moment of silence while they check me over.


    ¡°I cannot tell you, and I do not know. High mage Castillilio has asked you to report to her office once I have cleared you.¡± They appeal, pushing me back into the chair.


    ¡°Wait until I finish.¡±


    The Sanctum spire offices the officials. The person at the reception desk waves without a second glance. I survey spines upon entering the office, and only a moment later, after hearing someone clear their throat, I look at the desk.


    ¡°Vesh, it is good to see you again. How are your studies?¡±


    ¡°Informative enough. How have you been, High mage?¡± I pandor, feeling weary.


    ¡°Well, enough sums up things quite well. I believe I will steal it.¡± She attempts joviality.


    ¡°Call it a gift.¡±


    ¡°Well, I appreciate it. Is there anything you wanted to talk to me about?¡°


    ¡°Nothing in particular.¡°


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll move to why you¡¯re here. You passed the test.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°Are you expecting something more grandiose?¡° Castillo pries.


    ¡°More wondering why I am here.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to tell you about your success. The test is an early portion of the test used to grant someone the title of mage.¡°


    ¡°That is interesting,¡° I refuse.


    ¡°Indeed. Well, I am sure you are tired.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I mumble, leaving the office.


    Once more, my room calls louder than contemplation. My body is fine, but my mind isn¡¯t. I know Castillio can''t be trusted, but what are her motives? What did she want? And if the point is to reduce my progress, why give me a head start on becoming a mage? Regardless, I passed¡ª thoughts collapsed into a heap, crushing my consciousness.

 Chapter 21

    I have two weeks off and am still learning and studying, but I can finally sleep in. On the first Restday of the break, Jer tours the Athenary, and the workshops, finishing with my dorm. There are subjects to avoid regarding how things work, but showing him works fine enough.


    ¡°Now, my favorite place,¡± I command, sitting on the bed as he sits across from me.


    ¡°Open your mind and put your finger in my mouth,¡± I instruct.


    ¡°You¡¯re fucking with me¡­¡± Jer deadpans.


    ¡°I know, right? What a strange workaround. I am not fucking with you.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are.¡± Jer resigns, placing his finger in my open mouth.


    It is different from someone wanting to enter. Inviting someone into a mind palace is another matter, but can I even perform it? This time, Jer is here, but he isn''t here. I pull him through the door instead. Doing this requires a meticulous mental string drawn between us, which takes a half hour of sweating.


    ¡°Oh, shit? Did we teleport? How are we back in Willows Grove? Is it spring?¡±


    ¡°We are in my mind. I created this from memory. It is called a mind palace.¡±


    "Yeah? That Wall is different, and that door¡ª is that from the Sanctum? Can you make anything here?"


    ¡°Correct, it is wondrous, a world painted with thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Did you recreate the town? My house?¡±


    ¡°I did not, left the bluff clear for now, intended to make the town eventually.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to do it now?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, if you want. It¡¯ll help to have you here. You know the town better than me.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ should we race?¡± Jer considers me for a beat, ¡°Would it be fair? Can you fly? Or appear there?¡±


    ¡°Our normal races aren¡¯t fair.¡±


    Reassembling our memories of town frames a nostalgic afternoon. We start with Jer¡¯s house at the center. I can recall the bricks competently, but listening to Jer describe it is worth claiming inability. We cobble the main road with the bakery, the fabric shop, the Farmers'' Collective building, the temple, the state house, and the cobbler. Once satisfied with the details, we resume our usual cove between buildings.


    ¡°How have things been progressing?¡± Jer inquires.


    ¡°The funding is looking good. I have been able to gain many useful skills.¡±


    ¡°You are worried about the factors we can not plan for?¡± Jer guesses.


    ¡°Everything here is complex, and the mage stuff¡ª we might already have seers waiting for a misstep.¡±


    ¡°We must be attentive¡ª but there are also things we can not control.¡±


    ¡°I am the one you¡¯re trusting to do this. If I fuck up, it will cost both of our lives. How can you tell me it isn¡¯t my fault?¡±


    ¡°Because I made this decision knowing the dangers, and as I remember it, I believed you could do this before you did.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll believe in me until they cast you into the maws of destruction.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying I am biased?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re right. My impression of you has subverted me. I am now a firm believer in what capability is.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Is there anything specific that is pulling this out?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t heard from the supply chain in a week.¡±


    ¡°Is that uncommon?¡±


    ¡°Not entirely, but checking is inevitable.¡±


    ¡°Give it a couple more days. If something is wrong, you could exacerbate it.¡±


    ¡°Right, that should be fine. How about you? Are you still bumping up against that prick?¡±


    ¡°It is¡ªor he is¡ªI am not as good, and I am not used to being less than the best.¡±


    ¡°You are the best.¡±


    ¡°Vesh, you can¡¯t bluster a way into beating him¡­¡±


    ¡°So they are better? You can¡¯t win?¡±


    ¡°I think so. Moreover, I don¡¯t need to because qualifying isn¡¯t an option now.¡±


    The day after, Jer reciprocates with a glimpse into his slice of the city. The extra time to catch up with each other quiets my paranoia. We met every week, but being in a group isn¡¯t the same as spending time alone. It''s as it always was: Jer and I together. As we tour, he points out these little nooks between buildings. Free time is scarce, which leads cadets to hide from officers in the handy alcoves.


    The barracks, mess hall, and a few class buildings all follow a similar architectural aesthetic. This side of the campus has a utilitarian uniformity to the facilities. Unpainted square footprints are appealing enough, yet the architecture formulates clear killboxes. A rec room in his dorm building is our destination, as Jer explains a class on strategy revolving around a game called Empire.


    ¡°So it is like war but with separate piles?¡± I argue.


    ¡°No. How you count points is different. And there are two cards in an attack instead of one.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s like 21.¡±


    ¡°Not really, because aces are only elevens in defense. Okay, you will get it when we start playing.¡±


    ¡°Hey Jer, how¡¯s it?¡± a handsome, tall person from another table greets.


    ¡°I¡¯ll beat your ass later, Melkin, an old score calls.¡±


    ¡°You and your scores,¡± Melkin relents.


    Jer splits the deck in half by color, giving me the gray cards and taking the green ones for himself. He instructs me to place three of them face down on the table. We both drew six cards and lay half face down in front of each other; Jer stopped me before I could lay down the next half.


    ¡°We have to do this part a certain way. Lay your first face-up card on the far left, the far right, and the last in the center. Now draw six more; you are destruction, so go first.¡±


    ¡°I choose a pile to attack with?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Jer has an ace, a four, and a seven, showing from left to right. I have twelve with a seven showing, fifteen with a ten showing, and eleven with an eight showing. The centermost is most likely to win. Jer reveals a three under the four, so I take the lot. Two more cards reinforce the lines before Jer¡¯s turn. We soak up a few rounds of ale while battling for supremacy.


    Shannai insistently stirs me by shaking. Nails stab eyes with the glaring of an obnoxiously open window. What good is the cover if you leave it hanging to the side? Once adjusted, Shannai stares from centimeters above my face.


    ¡°Come on, up and at''em, ain¡¯t got all day boozer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll murder you, your family, and your family¡¯s family,¡± I grumble, fighting to place the pillow over my eyes.


    ¡°You will have to wake up first.¡±


    ¡°I am up. How about you be less loud?¡±


    After breakfast in a cafe de campus, it¡¯s the shopping district, seeking a disguise for the pleb. We stop in front of an ornate sign that reads: Vatachelle. The windows display silk formal wear in the season''s style, a three-piece ensemble with a short top, an equally short jacket, and a frilly skirt or pants.


    The fear of ambling in lessens with the aroma of baking pistachio butter. Insides, it''s ten degrees more comfortable than outside. A short person with well-maintained facial hair and a perpetual sneer greets us. Though their attitude is jovial, the sideways glance they slip does not pass unnoticed. Spines reflexively straighten at the slight.


    ¡°Good to be acquainted. I am Kret, child of Vatachelle and proprietor of this establishment.¡±


    ¡°I am Shannai of Sheik Sage,¡± she name drops, taking my arm.


    I add before she can claim me, ¡°Vesh¡¯dan.¡±


    The difference in reactions between her title and mine is stark. Her priority-laden name wets his eyes with reverence and a touch of greed, whereas my name elicits a thin veil of contempt, unaccustomed to serving such rabble. Though that works, it is enjoyable even.


    ¡°Yes, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, how about you fetch us some of whatever emanates that aroma as we peruse your... wears?¡± I finish the last bit with a turned-up nose, stifling a laugh.


    ¡°I was hoping-¡± Kret guffaws.


    ¡°Be gone. We don¡¯t need your help,¡± I command.


    ¡°Was that necessary?¡±


    ¡°Not in the least.¡±


    ¡°They aren''t so bad.¡±


    ¡°Ehh, not the worst. You can¡¯t speak to the worst like that, which lends to their awfulness.¡±


    ¡°You got me there, but we will need their help, so try not to push them too far.¡±


    Seasonal garments have paled with fall. Customers are appointed their attendants as they enter to choose their new fall fabrics. They range from gowns to formal robes, a variety that only shares the trait of expense. I gravitate to traditional robes, never being interested in extravagance for the sake of itself.


    I have to admit the gowns are gorgeous¡ª but the robes resonate with me, especially a black one that sits off to the corner. It lines in a soft dark green velvet, with clean matte black silk on the outside. The style''s lack of widened sleeves or similar flourishes flatters my frame more.


    ¡°I should have known you would pick the most understated piece here.¡± Shannai jokes, taking the other sleeve to inspect it.


    ¡°It is simple¡­ I like it.¡±


    ¡°I did not know you were so decisive. Try it on first,¡± Shan grumbles, taking the robe off the rack.


    ¡°Is there a place?¡± I ask with a glance around.


    ¡°It¡¯s a robe? Here. Use this here; that''s what it¡¯s for,¡± Shan admonishes, handing it to me with a look.


    ¡°Fine, my modesty will go unattended for expedience.¡±


    The small stage at the center of the back Wall has two couches. I step onto it after the prompting and look into the mirrors.


    ¡°Playing it up.¡±


    ¡°Getting into character. I have a ball to attend if you have not heard.¡± I coo,


    examining the robe.


    ¡°That¡¯s the one, huh? You¡¯ll insist on wearing that old thing.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll have to do. Tis the only one here to rival my beauty.¡±


    ¡°I think you have a point there.¡±


    The now nervous proprietor arrives a minute later with small, delectably moist biscuits, each mouthful of macadamia nuts and white chocolate. Accompanying the morsels is light green tea with hints of jasmine, offsetting the sweetness. Our scarfing of the treats lacks decorum, causing the person serving us to perspire.


    They cough to interrupt our display, ¡°Ahem¡ª will you need more time to peruse?¡±


    ¡°I am rather decided,¡± I mumble through biscuits.


    ¡°Yes¡­ It fits, and yourself, high lady?¡±


    ¡°I already have a gown.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Are you sure it is okay for me to get mine now?¡± I interrupt.


    ¡°I brought you here, dummy; my guest needs clothes,¡± she assures me.


    ¡°You have to match your parents?¡±


    ¡°My whole direct family will have coordinated outfits.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I apologize.¡± The owner apologizes from a prostrate bow.


    ¡°It is fine,¡± she waves off.


    We quench our hunger with a popular brunch spot in the main square. The house special is a roasted pepflower and alfredo over pasta. Spiciness abounds in each chuck¡ª then calming under the rich ministrations of the pistachio parmesan. A dark stout pulls out the sweet butter of alfredo¡ª but before I can fully revel, the meal finishes with raspberry sherbert, topped with whipped almond cream. We leave the cafe with loose buttons, though the feeling burns away with meanders in the main street, checking cheerios and tapping tomes.


    Once she noticed me eyeing it, Shannai purchased an etching tool after distracting attention with a cupcake from a shop named Chocolate Filled Chocolates. We speak of our mutual interests, nothing delving deeper than favorite things and places. The size of the talk is a refreshing break from the relentless depths of studying. I am relaxed¡ª my sense of surroundings falls away, so content am I in her company, with her manner¡ª


    Two people enter the square and stand out, approximately a hundred meters from my position, on a trajectory to intersect within forty seconds. They waltz in clear contrast to the other patrons, an off-ness to the vibe, and one slips a glance directly at me. I shift our trajectory, watching as they adjust to match. Two other groups make a similar adjustment, all glancing at each other. Fuck.


    ¡°Don¡¯t react. Three groups of two people are following. Should we take evasive measures or choose a more offensive approach?¡±


    ¡°Do you think you can take them?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say; the attack''s brazenness leads me to believe at least a few are capable. Also, it can be assumed the mastermind is well connected and has a plan in place.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry; I shouldn¡¯t have gotten you involved.¡±


    ¡°You?¡± I stutter, almost losing my composure as well as my stride.


    ¡°They are probably here to attack me. It is a strange place, but they are likely hoping to send some message. I¡¯ll handle it.¡±


    ¡°Umm, you don¡¯t need help?¡±


    ¡°No, it is fine,¡± she notes before running towards the nearest group, screaming, ¡°You¡¯ll regret taking their money.¡± Drawing the attention of the square, devoid of guards.


    Fuck¡ª How did I not notice the exodus of every guard near me? I have been in the clouds. I catch only part of the person''s retort, something referring to her smallness, or it could have been about age. She disappears as the attacker attempts to grab her, appearing behind them, only visible after the one who remarked slumps to the ground. The next collapses moments later, and she''s gone before they hit the ground. The other two groups pull out small purple amulets that glow faintly, and they are too far from me to determine the runes.


    She appears above them and stabs out; when did she get¡ª before I finish that thought, the attacker throws up a block, and she appears in the area they leave open. They¡¯re both falling quicker than I can register. She appears in front of the final group only seconds after knocking out the first person.


    ¡°Are you stupid or suicidal?¡±


    ¡°Neither, we exterminate corrupted scum.¡±


    ¡°What you believe doesn¡¯t matter. The fact is that you have no chance¡ª wait. Exterminate? You¡¯re not with a family?¡±


    ¡°We are not.¡±


    ¡°Okay? So you came here to die?¡±


    ¡°We had assumed you wouldn''t stick around to help. Guess the garbage must be useful to you,¡± the larger of the two remarks, gesturing to me.


    ¡°Huh? Vesh? What do you want with Vesh?¡±


    ¡°That is not your business, but we will not pursue you if you leave.¡±


    ¡°I am Shannai of Sheikh Sage. You have accosted me on the streets built by my forebears. And you dare speak of my business.¡± She roars, adopting an intimidating posture.


    ¡°We are noble too, and we will end that filth.¡± They laugh, mocking her stance.


    ¡°I have no more patience for you. Next time you wish to assault me or my friend, you best come correct.¡± She finishes and returns to my side before the two assailants fall. ¡°What was that about?¡± She turns, that fury pointing right at me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t quite know.¡±


    ¡°Did you know this would happen?¡±


    ¡°I was worried about leaving the academy, but I have regularly come to this district. I assumed it would be safe because of how well-guarded it is.¡±


    ¡°Well, speak up next time.¡±


    ¡°Kinda caught me off guard.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you that, follow me.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    We scamper down several side streets until a sign reading: Tanner¡¯s Tinctures. She doesn''t slow, pulling me shirt-first into a garden with bricks and mortar peeking through heaps of plants in different stages of dehydration. Intermittent shelves with hundreds of small compartments hold glass vials ordered alphabetically from right to left. A tall person in a vibrantly green outfit appears from the back room before we make it halfway to the counter. Their frame is gangly, with a long, thin neck leading to a face with prominent features. Gray eyes rimmed in brown meet our gazes, surprise slipping as they glance at Shannai.


    ¡°Shannai, to what do I owe the honor?¡±


    ¡°Cut the shit, Weasel. Get a clean-up crew at the main square in front of Balds and a hole for my friend here.¡±


    ¡°Well, probably, I will have to move¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do it.¡±


    ¡°Woah there, Hole? Can¡¯t I go back to the campus?¡±


    ¡°Normally, I would agree, but the brazen attack gives me pause. Whoever ordered this would need influence¡ª but it is off.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you knock them around again, figure out what¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Not really. With mages¡¯ preparation, having enough resources to buy or commission something to negate almost anyone is key. They had something on them to make you useless.¡±


    ¡°My magic, I have more than that leg to stand on,¡± I defend.


    ¡°Oh, yes. You are tough.¡±


    ¡°I am tough,..¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡ª Leave them with me,¡± the weaselly person interrupts.


    ¡°What will you be doing?¡± I ask, breaking the brief pause.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have a word with our house speaker. They should be able to decrease the likelihood of an attack. We also need to determine the underlying intentions.¡±


    ¡°What am I going to do?¡±


    ¡°Do not give me that. Half the people in this city have someone after them, and you are not special. If anything, the level of assistance you have garnered up to this point is the most unique thing about your situation.¡± She assures me before disappearing, the air she transferred leaves a light smell of smoke and silk.


    Weasel''s rigid demeanor disappears upon Shannai¡¯s departure. Posture drops and bends at an uncomfortable angle. They scan my usable surfaces, reaching my eyes and catching them with a glare. I know a weasel that works in the shopping district, but this is not them. Could it be a code name? Maybe an organization.


    ¡°Don¡¯t spose ya¡¯s a noble?¡± They speak a mushed dialect that I am less accustomed to, having only heard it a handful of times.


    ¡°No, can¡¯t say I¡¯m so lucky.¡±


    ¡°Be more¡¯a curse in ways. Spouse, they like ya talkin'' em¡¯ up, doe.¡±


    ¡°In a way.¡±


    ¡°This¡¯ll be the way, if¡¯n ya don¡¯t mind.¡± They instruct, gesturing me through the door.


    I follow them through the curtained doorframe, finding myself in a room similar to the other, except the herbs are all dried, and a table covered in glass sits against the back Wall. They meander about, swirling in patterns, administering masses of bubbling concoctions coalescing. The sight brings back memories of salves prepared during creation ceremonies. The person steps to the table, fiddling with a small knob and ceasing the bubbling of a container before turning back to me and pointing at a chair.


    ¡°Take a seat. Can''t leave this lyin.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯re these people doin''? Comin after ya?¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± I sit on the denoted stool, ¡°They aren¡¯t friends of mine.¡±


    ¡°Ya can trust me.¡±


    ¡°Can I? Weasel is a strange name for a trustworthy fellow.¡±


    ¡°Ya will trust ya¡¯re money with a banker, why not ya¡¯re secrets with me?¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you more of a burglar than a banker?¡±


    ¡°Ya see a difference between em¡¯?¡±


    ¡°You have a point, though it is not sharp enough to push me from mine.¡±


    ¡°If I say I won¡¯t help ya?¡± they weasel.


    ¡°I do not think you have a choice.¡±


    ¡°A¡¯ight lil one, ya stood fast, so we¡¯ll be on our way.¡±


    ¡°Before we go, is your name Weasel? I know another named weasel¡­¡±


    ¡°There be many of us named Weasels. Get on wit¡¯ it.¡± They gesture for me to follow.

 Chapter 22

    I am led through a greenhouse with plants in different stages of growth soaking up the sun. Following them works until they stop abruptly at the back of the room. Previously, uniform floor lifts under the power of a pulley. I stop in descent to examine the contraption. It uses a weighted counter to push the slab up¡ª


    ¡°Quit ya lollyin,¡± the Weasel gruffs.


    The tunnel runs underneath the floor and perpendicular to the road outside. My companion holds a dimly lit glow gem. Though a distinctively unkempt dustyness exists, no cobwebs or detritus clog the underground tunnel. The scent of decay and earth sinks me into the fields. I hear the scurrying of critters outside of my peripheries. Clicks clatter a telling enough image. Continuing down the subterranean passage takes us to a wooden door. Through the door is a small room with several wooden doors leading off. They gesture at one on the far right.


    ¡°Goin¡¯ through there will bring ya to another staircase like the one we came in. Tell ¡®em Weasel sent ya.¡± With that, they turn back.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I call.


    Through the door mentioned above is a stairway that leads me up from one dark room to another. Opening the door reveals The Regal''s familiar grand foyer and the broom closet I am standing in. The front of the line faces me with the portly attendant I know as Weasel. They rake their eyes down my body with dismay, finding less humor in the scratchy garb I had chosen to accompany Shannai.


    ¡°May I help you?¡±


    ¡°You may.¡± I begin, deciding to mess with the fellow for not recognizing me without a mage robe.


    ¡°And how may I do that?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Let¡¯s see¡ª I¡¯m sure I remember¡ª something to do with an animal?¡±


    ¡°An animal? On the premises? Are you with the groundskeeper? You aren¡¯t permitted to be in the lobby.¡±


    ¡°Not permitted? Did you permit the skunk into the lobby?¡±


    ¡°A skunk?¡° they splutter.


    ¡°Oh, yes. That¡¯s it, I was sent by a Weasel, not for a skunk.¡± I relent, pitying their frozen expression. ¡°Did you catch that?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Yes, well. Um. My apologies, Sr, please follow me.¡± They nervously stutter, tripping over their pride as they rush from behind the counter.


    ¡°No baggage, Sr?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Right this way.¡±


    Moving to the far right wall, they open a door leading to a stairway. My haven is up ten flights in a hallway lined with doors. The unassuming white door numbers one thousand thirty-four, in which a luxuriously furnished room with a kitchen and paintings satirizes a hole. I stick to the opulence, comparing it to my humble dorm, which was a luxury, pales the notion. Though the normalization is stark, enjoyment is still available in this situation.


    ¡°Do you need anything, Sr?¡±


    ¡°Uhh¡­ Anything?¡±


    ¡°Uhh, well, most anything.¡±


    ¡°Food? Maybe a bath?¡±


    ¡°There is a menu on the coffee table, the relay is there as well, And you have a personal bath in the restroom.¡± They finish, pointing to a door that I had taken for a closet.


    ¡°Relay?¡±


    ¡°Yes. There is a guide in the table drawer. If Sr would prefer, I can demonstrate?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pick it up, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Good, relay if you need anything. Thank you, Sr.¡± They formally depart with a bow.


    I find a slip of paper inside the drawer with a clear preservative coating. One side lists four dishes: two risottos, a roasted tomato basil bisque, and a white sauce over pasta. Located on the back is a diagram explaining how to use the relay. A list of letters and numbers correspond to taps, dashes, and pauses. The notion of sustenance is flung to the back of my mind as I rush the amalgamation. Shannai keeps me from messing with hers, but here is one unguarded.


    The flat, thin piece of ornately decorated metal resembles Shannai''s device. Pressing on the point of the lever furthest from the fulcrum, where a small wooden pad sits atop the arm, pushes it down, and connects it to the base.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Pulling out my portable toolbox, I remove the most accessible portion, a small arm connecting to a tiny knob on the base. The default position is disconnected, meaning there is some reaction from touching. The bottom takes a little longer to figure out, with coy screws set into the metal. The other half of the rune formation lies inside, which continues into a string out of the back of the device and into the Wall. The other end of the amalgamation representing this connection will have more complex rune formations. But people will get mad if I start tearing apart the walls. Reassembling the device and ordering a portion of soup wins, and maybe a bath.


    Waiting for it to arrive, I start the faucet and allow my worry to emerge as I slink into the bubbles. The attack was unexpected, and the death, the blood¡ª I have to recalculate. Who would want me dead? A coordinated offensive in a public space specifically spoke of solid ties to nobility and or government. Could it be Gallah or some other pleb-hating noble? Think. Okay, it''s possible but unlikely; we need a more likely solution. Possibly someone I crossed paths with during my time here?Or suppression by an angry classmate?


    Delving deeper, this could be a means of besmirching me, a drastic measure. That wouldn''t explain it; however, why not try something on school grounds? There could be a piece I still need to include. So, if they can''t get me on campus, wait until I am out and send their people in. Whoever saw me leave would have seen Shannai with me and known how outmatched they were.


    It may be separate from our plan, but that feels strange¡ª Enough with speculation. What happened, and what can we learn from it, if anything¡ª Wait, what had the last person said? They were nobility. Why would they say it so openly? They flaunted their noble ties. Bath water cools around me, relenting its mana to me and the world around it. This steam condenses on my face, combining with the sweat into beads. I need help. The foe is too big, with too many pieces assumed. I thought I could handle this. Opening my eyes, I spot the steam still in its struggles. The world deadens its racket.


    ¡°Hello, young one,¡± a familiar voice surprises me with the greeting.


    ¡°Dear waste! Huh? Erudite? Oh, you did this.¡± I realize and settle back in the tub.


    ¡°Who else could have?¡±


    ¡°Uhm.¡±


    ¡°Were you trying to? Just now. Or have you already?¡±


    ¡°Well.¡±


    ¡°I told you before that I will come after it happened, did I not?


    ¡°Why ask then? Please, come on in and add more shit to my plate.¡± I resign.


    ¡°What troubles you?¡± The time-transcending entity that appeared in my bathroom asks.


    ¡°Hmmm. Let''s see: I am locked in a school where everyone hates me, and random people keep trying to murder me. On top of that, the very world I live in seems to be a lie to help everyone cope. I know it¡¯s blasphemy, but this place isn¡¯t perfect. Oh yeah, and I am currently speaking with an entity that flagrantly defies time. Not to mention, I have no power to change anything; everyone can do things and make things I can¡¯t. I just wish this was easier.¡±


    ¡°So why not give up?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Why not leave, return to wherever you¡¯re from, and live a simpler life, or better yet, why did you come out here?


    ¡°Because I wanted to see the world...¡±


    ¡°Liar, you wanted something more.¡±


    ¡°What do you know?¡±


    ¡°I know you lost your mother.¡±


    ¡°I guess when I was young. My father says she was a guardian on the Panisuwall, two stars.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more than that, isn¡¯t it? There is more to the story, more to you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know much about it or her.¡±


    ¡°You lie.¡±


    ¡°So what if I do?¡±


    ¡°If you wish to find something, you must look.¡±


    ¡°So philosophical, what about you?¡± I raise, heating.


    ¡°I found who I¡¯m looking for.¡±


    ¡°What have you come here for?¡± I spit.


    ¡°To help you find the path.¡±


    ¡°Dear creation, can you speak plainly,¡± I shout.


    ¡°You are just wondering what to do, wishing you had someone you could trust to help you. Now I am here, and you push me away as you do to all others.¡±


    ¡°Yep. Cool. You know who tried to kill me?¡±


    ¡°I do not, nor do I know anything about your petty squabbles. My focus is on matters of importance.¡±


    ¡°So, how are you going to help me?¡±


    ¡°I can offer nothing. Plainly? These things are your own. I merely reassured you with inevitability. You will trust your friend Shannai and bring her into your plans. You will leave before this year''s end. If you did not, you would have died. I''m telling you these things don¡¯t affect what will happen. I can not change what you will do.¡±


    ¡°Next year is seven months away? I am not planning on leaving for another two and a half years?¡±


    ¡°Your plans change soon.¡±


    ¡°Why do I do that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the shit, but my plate is full.¡±


    ¡°I can only give you this: you chose to act.¡±


    ¡°Was there anything else?¡± I rumble.


    ¡°Would you like to talk about your experience with the Willow Panther?¡±


    ¡°I guess, so how do I resonate with this magic?¡± I begrudge, mollified by the magic talk.


    ¡°You have been learning. The key to time magic and controlling it is simple. You must be mindful, reject self, and understand the world around you.¡±


    ¡°Okay. So it is about detaching yourself from reality?¡±


    ¡°The physical reality, yes. All time exists simultaneously, which requires a lack of physical empathy. You could try a deprivation chamber?¡±


    ¡°Deprivation chamber?¡±


    ¡°A lightless room, usually with water, that limits the senses one can feel.¡±


    ¡°Then why did it happen in such an intense moment?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. But where were you?¡±


    ¡°Oh. I guess it''s a non-physical sym-cosm.¡±


    ¡°Correct, that place is used because of the mages¡¯ ease in practicing their magic there. That is why Grev built the Labyrinth.¡±


    ¡°Is that where I was?¡±


    "Yes, the Labyrinth is endless and infinitely difficult, but the early stages are easier. Grev, or at least his regime, his court mage to be specific, built it to deter certain elements of society from gaining true power."


    ¡°I won¡¯t make it anyway if I have to leave.¡±


    ¡°Well, not technically.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    "It''s an archaic rule; if you can find a way to enter the Labyrinth and make it to the fifth floor, you qualify as a mage. I do warn you, it is a dangerous place."


    ¡°Why do people keep secrets? Why are we banned from discovering more about the world.¡±


    ¡°As with countless things, it is justified for being the best of bad choices.¡±


    With that, they disappear, and time returns with a crash of noise that calms into the background. I slip back into my tub to contemplate even more choices, courtesy of the entity that can read my mind. Before I completely dry off, a knock comes. I shoot up and look at the door.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± I call.


    ¡°Room service.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Uhh¡­ The soup you ordered, Sr.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± I remember, cracking the door to a dapper young person in a dark green uniform.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± I blurt, grabbing the end of the cart and pulling it in.


    The soup looks delicious, and even with my misgivings, I scarf it down. Tomato bisque is the greatest of simple pleasures. Sweetness plays with savoriness on an earthy bed of basil. I delight as the flavors wrestle around my pallet, temporarily warming me.

 Chapter 23

    ¡°I¡¯m coming in,¡± Shannai calls before appearing in the room.


    ¡°Come on in, I guess.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve got good news and bad. Oh, that looks good. Tomato bisque?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Ugh, You can have only a spoonful.¡±


    ¡°I spoke with Pear to track down a lead, and it looks like a group of extremists looking to kill you. Probably blew their best chance.¡±


    ¡°Huh. Why kill me?¡±


    ¡°Mmm, that is good. Something about you being an abomination.¡±


    ¡°Who would want me dead?¡±


    ¡°We don''t have any ears in their organization, an ancient cult with a touch of religious fervor. I¡¯m sure you know of the Kanto mountains. It¡¯s as north as you can get, and they don¡¯t make much noise, so no one knows why they want you dead.¡±


    ¡°Do they have ties to anyone?¡±


    ¡°Nope. None that we know of, but your assailant messed up. The grunts put a giant foot in their asses by attacking me. You should be fine as long as you stay at the academy.¡±


    ¡°Great. At least I have this bathrobe. What is this thing made of?¡±


    "I know what it''s like; you have to knuckle through. Here, let me see. It is bamboo fiber.


    "So soft. Are we still going to dinner?"


    ¡°If you don''t want to, then I understand.¡±


    ¡°Should I? Is it safe?¡±


    "Oh yeah, no one would make a move at the Emperor''s estate. We might also dig up some dirt if you come."


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do it.¡±


    ¡°Perfect, here is your outfit. Get cleaned up.¡±


    Pulling on the garment takes little time, and placing some makeup on my less-than-fair skin even less. Exiting the bathroom lands me in Shannai¡¯s reproach. My hard work brushes away as she leads me down to a carriage waiting for us while muttering about fixing messes.


    Upon entering the lobby, six burly but well-dressed figures flank us. I make for my rapier before Shannai soothes my arm with a nod. Her control and poise solidify into steel, commanding the room of wealth to stare at her. On the street, we approach a wooden fortress, six feet tall and at least ten feet long, with runes covering every surface. Inside is a cocoon of dark green lining. It would have been spacious without the six scary people staring like statues.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen these around the city, but what are they?¡±


    ¡°I told you they are called holds. Essentially, it''s a fortress on wheels; runes run it, and before you ask me, I¡¯ve no idea how the runes function.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. probably an axle rotated by the repelling property. Possibly the power is ambient, but the system seems too weighty to be supported by that, even with the reduction allowed by the wheels¡ª¡±


    ¡°We have little time to inform you of an abbreviated noble history while I fix your makeup.¡±


    ¡°I thought I did a good job.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t. Before, you were an oddity, and now you might be of interest to the court. Stay still and close your eyes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wiping too hard¡ª¡±


    "You''re welcome. Firstly, the Emperor''s direct lineage heads the five high noble houses. Do you already know this?"


    ¡°I know the Emperor is always a Sirius, and the speakers are figureheads, right? I know all the speakers, too.¡±


    ¡°Correct, they do not have hard power, but their soft power is unrivaled. The hard power is senators in the High and the Common houses, elected and can not be from a¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know how the government works; I¡¯m not an idiot.¡±


    ¡°Did you know that the elected officials need the nobility to help with funding and campaigning?¡±


    ¡°I did not. That doesn¡¯t happen in the north.¡±


    ¡°You may think they are figureheads, but the nobility acts as a ruling class with extreme limitations on what they can publicly do, such as the inability to be elected. We will stick to the high families because no one else could have pulled this off. Sadly, we can not rule out Sage as it is multifaceted. I can handle looking into that, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh shit, I am bait at this thing?¡±


    ¡°Hey, who are we helping here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, do go on.¡±


    ¡°Sage and Hilltrope have always been close while Finvin acts subordinate to the Sirus house, and Kirk is a bit of an outlier.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, we get one representative in each house; we never consider it much.¡±


    ¡°But you all voted for someone who you trust in, someone who works hard for you. Your voting laws are also inclusive, and votes count directly.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Like the voter suppression stuff.¡±


    ¡°In part, several systems allow for discounting votes, also basic things like underserviced areas. Take yourself, rather educated for a farmer.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know of this. My father often called Odin¡¯Kirk the last defender.¡±


    "They aren''t infallible but are the least corrupt of the high nobility. It will be the last place to sniff around, though we can be more direct with them."


    ¡°Tonight?¡±


    ¡°Yes. What do you know about manners and formality.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ The titles are Emperor, Speaker, High Noble, Senator, and Noble. Respectively, the manner will be a full, half, and slight bow.¡±


    ¡°When do you kneel?¡±


    ¡°A manner of station, of which I have none.¡±


    ¡°That, in itself, is the most terrifying thing about you.¡±


    ¡°I will not be here for long enough for the culmination of that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, leaving soon?¡±


    ¡°We will all have to find somewhere to go eventually.¡±


    ¡°Good, offer no information. I¡¯ll be talking, but be brief if anyone addresses things directly. Also, you will be kneeling to me tonight.¡±


    ¡°So unsure of my ability?¡±


    ¡°Only assured in mine.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll trust you.¡±


    ¡°After we enter, there will be a few speeches, during which you should pay attention to the people around you for someone who might be too interested. I will take you through the rounds after we settle. Keep to me, and do not stray.¡±


    ¡°Sr.¡±


    As soon as the carriage stops, the guards, who had until then stared out of angled holes, file out. I try to get out after them, but Shannai stops me with a hand. One of the guards calls out, and she stands, motioning for me to get out.


    ¡°Follow the guards. I have to get ready. Most importantly, don¡¯t talk to my family. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Uhh, how will that work?¡±


    ¡°Act like this all makes you nervous, and you are happy to be here. I will sing you some praise, and you will shy. Act like I graciously allowed you to accompany me to this function to woo you.¡±


    ¡°So magnanimous. What am I wooing to?¡±


    ¡°Pear is out there. He will show you the rest of the way; go.¡±


    I nod and exit before she can disappear, or at least to my knowledge, with guards surrounding the exit. Behind them and in front of me is Sr Pear standing straight enough to bolster a louse black robe. He has an unusual hairstyle, bald on the top, with a ring of gray hair around his head. I have seen many people on the way to balding, but rarely in such a fashion.


    ¡°Hello, Vesh¡¯dan. I am Pear, if you will, follow me; much to do.¡± He introduces, turning on a heel and moving briskly, gaits sure and long.


    ¡°What bai¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hush your tongue until we are in the powder room.¡±


    I hush, following in step with him to the back entrance of a giant building. I had just noticed it. Wait, this is a castle. Royal shit, is this the castle? The Emperor''s. Shannai had said it was an estate, but I didn''t think it was the estate. The Agate Palace is immense, but this is the back entrance. Still, I can make out five towers at least fifteen stories, parapets of the off-white roof crest in a flying crow, and the Wall is a complimentary sandy cream. There are hundreds of windows, and it''s too much to take in before we enter the back door.


    Staff bustle around, filling the narrow hallways with platters or garments. The smell of roasted cauliflower is the only distinct from the mingle entangling our trek. Pear jogs through as the bustle splits before him. After several flights of stairs, we reach a door leading to a wider hallway. Buttresses and paintings decorate its length along a golden yellow rug. I check my shoes, and they are all good. I take them off. Carrying my shame, I follow him to a door and into a large room. A body-length mirror made of wealth sits against the back wall, and a wardrobe is on either side. Once the door is closed, they start talking.


    ¡°You¡¯re question?¡±


    "This is the Agate Palace, right? And what is my role as bait? Oh, Creation, what did she do to my face?"


    ¡°Yes, it is. I cannot help you with the makeup, though it is in fashion. As for your role, that will be a bit tricky.¡±


    ¡°Great wind up, let¡¯s see the pitch.¡±


    ¡°This function is a formality, a harvest festival where the nobility and government show off their stock, a useful stage. Shannai will be showing you off as a serf. It is a kind of endorsement, but nothing she endorses will be a family stance, more a vote with an argument wrapped around an asset.¡±


    ¡°Where do we start?¡±


    ¡°Upon looking into this situation, I have found two solutions to be the most likely: either a high family is after you for the precedence you set at the academy, or one person of great importance is against you for some reason.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see, I get the first one, but I''m more interested in the second.¡±


    ¡°It hangs on them knowing and caring about you but being unable to do anything about it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡ª Hmm.¡±


    ¡°Someone sufficiently skilled could have done this; it would explain everything, but we have no connections.¡±


    ¡°So we are focusing on the first?¡±


    ¡°Correct. If a member of the Sage can control you, then your existence poses less of a threat. Moreover, you and your kind become a resource.¡±


    ¡°Clever, but how does that help us find who attacked me?¡±


    ¡°You miss the bigger picture. It will either solve the problem or incite your foe to act again.¡±


    ¡°That act being murder?¡±


    ¡°Forcing someone else to move into our hand?¡±


    ¡°Our?¡±


    ¡°We will set a trap.¡±


    ¡°And if they don''t?¡±


    ¡°Problem solved.¡±


    ¡°Why am I safe at the mage campus?¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°You are not, but no one will kill you there.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Stay here until I get you.¡±


    ¡°Will do.¡±


    Pear leaves, alone yet again, with little else in the room to distract myself. I collapse into a lotus form to enter my mind palace. The relay has given me an idea: creating a device to communicate with another. The concept is simple, but adapting it to a link without a direct connection is challenging. Another medium must connect the two. Perusing my athenary yields, two references to a mana field produced by a transference rune. I can use a compass to view the effects. As I do, the range could be better. I mess with the transference rune and add several inductor runes to amplify the field, but it has little effect. I need to figure out how to receive the signal and convert it to a readable form.


    Picking apart the rune formation in the relay I''d examined offers little information. There is one transference rune, which is only connected when the relay presses down. I still need to include something. A knock comes at the door, pulling me from my sanctum. Approaching the door, I notice a small transparent lens affixed to its center. Looking through it yielded nothing. I may be doing it wrong.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± I call.


    ¡°Come now, child, we are on a tight schedule,¡± Pear calls.


    I drudge through the journey until a two-story door that stands apart from the rest. I stare up at it, stepping forward to see how the joints support such a massive door, some sort of infusion technique¡ª


    ¡°Hey, over here, please do not wander,¡± Pear calls from a door to my left.


    ¡°Sure thing.¡±


    ¡°Please avoid that manner of speaking if you can help it.¡±


    ¡°Sr?¡± I prod.


    ¡°Are you ever serious?¡±


    ¡°When there is food to consume,¡± I gruff.


    ¡°Yes. If you can behave,  and useful information.¡±


    They blur together after enough ornate silver filigree, marble buttresses, and original paintings. They are magnificent and distinguishably variable, but still. The opulent impudence sickens like a too-sweet taste. My eyes seek Shannai first while four others mill about in coordinated outfits, another four attending the room. I walk to Shannai and smile, lifting a hand in greeting after kneeling. The high-waisted modified line gown she wears plays at dark purple. It is modern, with room for flowing, accented by the silver leaves wrapping her earlobes.


    ¡°You look handsome.¡±


    ¡°As do you; that robe is growing on me,¡± Shannai compliments.


    ¡°Who is your friend, Shannai?¡± The person wearing a wreath interrupts.


    "This is my friend from the academy, Vesh''dan. Vesh, this is my family: my house speaker, Sage, her partner Conor, daughter of Murphy; my uncle Lir the fifth of Sage, his partner Noah, son of house Byrne," she introduces, gesturing to each in turn.


    ¡°It should be a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± I slip, performing a half bow to the room and a full bow to Speaker Sage.


    "Should¡ª" The Speaker starts before Shannai comes to my rescue.


    ¡°Vesh just passed the first bimester and is at the top of the class.¡±


    ¡°What are your studies in?¡± Conor asks.


    ¡°A little of everything.¡± I abstain.


    ¡°Did I see you at the tournament?¡± Noah asks.


    ¡°I was there.¡±


    ¡°Yes, the one who crawled across the ground¡ª¡±


    ¡°That was me.¡±


    ¡°Good enough to get him accepted into the mage academy.¡± Shannai rescues again.


    ¡°It appears so, a rather good showing, in my opinion,¡± Lir adds.


    ¡°Speaking of which, how are your studies going, Shannai?¡± Speaker Sage asks.


    ¡°High Mage Pyllius is a cactus, but he has skill.¡±


    ¡°A cactus?¡±


    ¡°Abrasive, dry, a cactus.¡±


    Before the Speaker can reply, Conor intercedes, ¡°Bear his prickles to drink¡ª¡±


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Pear interrupts, opening the door. ¡°The emperor has arrived.¡±


    We file back into the hallway, standing in four groups facing the grand door, second to last, just before the Emperor. Their skin is pale, with full red lips and hazel eyes. They are wearing an empire-waisted gown weaved of gold, though I try not to stare. The open door spills roaring applause as Shan grabs my arm.


    The ballroom is a marble dome with a map of the Empire on the panels. The central dance floor has hundreds of tables surrounding it, each with twelve chairs. Shannai pulls forward as someone announces the House of Sage, and we are standing atop the sea of attention, crashing against my knees to waver their constitution.


    Our group split in half as we descended the stairs on either side of the entrance. I focused all my attention on not falling, but Shan had my arm, and I kept upright. As we reached our table, which stood in a prominent place near the front, the Emperor and their family emerged. The latter descends as the former remains, along with the speakers. The room quiets once the speakers are seated on the stage and the Emperor speaks.


    "Kin of my country. We have prospered for another year, toiled in our labors to reap the rewards. Among our achievements is raising Creations'' Quota to fifty million," they hold for responsive applause, "We are here to celebrate those victories claimed for the betterment of all. On this harvest day, we will acknowledge our struggles to empower the future of this Empire." Another pause, another applause. "There are those that I will specifically recognize, a few of the many heroes who comprise our true strength. As always, I will start with our speakers; first, from the illustrious house, Speaker Sage,"


    "We have seen prosperity through adherence. Our conduct has honored Creation, so they honor us with continued existence. In the south, those laborers have meant sending more to the Wall than others, as is our responsibility with more people. We must stand against the threats there, not letting our eyes stray from mitigated doom. Our candor on this comes when our population growth has slowed, and we might soon have to call on others to fill this role in part. Our crops still grow, and our rain will still pour, so we have much to be grateful for. Let us remember those things and the sacrifices made to ensure them. Now, I will yield the floor to my fellow Speaker of House Hilltrope. Blessed art thou, and blessed is the fruit of thy mind." Finishing with a short bow before exiting, passing Speaker Hilltrope.


    ¡°The select few are here, the power our kingdom has to offer. At the same time, we sit here, evil amasses at the border. In Hilltrope, we have been preparing for this to answer the call by speaker Sage. Currently, we have nearly two thousand troops moving to the border. They will pass the capital in several months, and I will be partitioning provisions from many here to help facilitate their passage. We will also be calling an enlisting campaign to boost our numbers. Of course, many of you are aware of this and will be voting on a provisional license for a multi-kingdom force. I implore you to approve this and help to ensure our continued safety. Now, to speaker Odin.¡± They finish abruptly.


    "I shall not follow the example of my peers, as I don''t see a threat to our border. In truth, we all know that this call to arms is gilded fear-mongering, tarnished from overuse. Instead, I endeavor to inform you about the real threats we face. Unrest builds because we forged a seasonal labor system that is essentially a debtor prison a thousand years ago. This practice has become the embodiment of corruption, using its fruit to infect us. We face a rising level of inequality, a deepening of divides that solidifies the footings of bad actors and all that wish to continue hoarding power. My words fall short, for you are creations of this system, but I speak to others who might see my words as brave enough to inspire. Thank you," they end with a full bow to half-hearted applause, many looking up while I clap my hands raw.


    ¡°As always, bold words from my peers in the north.¡± The Emperor¡ª complements?


    I lost interest as they moved to Finvin and awarded medals earned in service to the Empire. I consider entering my mind palace, though I should keep my focus here. The prospect of listening to this entire ceremony is impossible, so I ask Shan about the ominous speech by speaker Odin. She elbows me for my trouble, glancing at the table full of her family.


    The next option is an hour of messing with the transference rune formation in my mind palace. Varying the field produced is trickier than increasing the gauge. Coming up short confirms the problem as one of power. Someone touches my shoulder, which catches me unaware of my surroundings.


    ¡°You could not sit through that? You couldn''t last one night in my shoes.¡±


    ¡°Those platforms? I¡¯m fine with my practical wedges.¡±


    ¡°Could be naked under that for all it matters.¡±


    ¡°I am naked under this.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Was I supposed to wear something under?¡±


    ¡°Probably. Anyway, we will have to make the rounds. Here is the show, and my deviously won surf. Keep quiet, be humble, and be respectful. If you don''t know what to say, give me a worried look, and I will play it off.¡± She commands as I kneel in affirmation, obsequiously deep, for the room.


    ¡°You are catching on.¡±


    The following fifty interviews went like this, bleeding together through repetition. Shannai will introduce Sr Such And Such, the owner of something impressive. That may not be fair. Of a few, they play the part with reluctance, either that or wretches sheltering under pretense. For my part, bowing appropriately, I will greet their act with my own, a veneer lackered with a submissive demeanor and some stuttering for polish.


    She boasts of my accomplishment, and upon hearing this, they clam up. I try not to take offense, but the ubiquity gets to me. The majority placate the act, saying, ¡®I might have a few plebs who can do that.¡¯ There might be a few people I owe an apology to.


    After Shan pitches me, we will have to listen to theirs. Several ask for support on upcoming propositions, some ask for introductions to Speaker Sage, and a few even introduce their own ¡°assets''''. She takes it striding, allowing everyone to leave the interaction feeling accomplished while not receiving anything worthwhile. The mold shatters as we approach Senator Revaldi from the third district in the eastern city of Finvin.


    "Ohhh is¡ª is da Pleb yur showin'' aroun''? Stock doesn'' look too ¡ªburp¡ª buulky," the inebriated senator slurs.


    "You forget yourself, Senator. Vesh''dan is my guest," Shan grits out, grabbing my arm.


    "Sweetheart, he looks like a scared little thing. I want one. Can I have a cute little mage like that?" An affectionate person croons from the Senator''s arm.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have it an anythin ya desire ma lave," The Senator spits his words onto her adoring expression.


    ¡°It was lovely to see you, Senator Revaldi, but we must be going.¡±


    Shan gets a few steps before the oaf is ready to object. Unfortunately, their objection was of the physical variety. They put a hand on my shoulder to stop our retreat, with cologne stinging under an onslaught of Vodka. His grip is so forceful that I react. I am into the movement before I know what I am doing¡ª Instead, Shan is there grabbing the Senator''s hand and mine, halting my throw. If she were a second slower, I would have assaulted a senator.


    ¡°We really must be going. Good day, Senator.¡± Shan cools with the same demeanor she has held all night.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I squeak once we are clear.


    ¡°I get the feeling,¡± Shan reassures, ¡°We haven¡¯t gotten much; your presence hasn¡¯t perturbed anyone.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Now we speak to Odin.¡±


    The Last warden isolates himself from the majority. I gape at the figure from my fairy tales. His iconic white hair braids three segments grown well below the chest. The robes of a speaker are crimson, and he fills them out thoroughly. The drawings of him in the papers never captured the smile. Shannai pulls me as I stop moving. But I get the practice down before we are in front of the mountain of a being.


    ¡°Good speech, Sr.¡± Shannai compliments, entirely bowing for the first time.


    ¡°Was it not too on the nose?¡±


    ¡°Not at all, more a testament to what we should be, as you always are.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your kind words, young one. Who¡¯s this with you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, this is Vesh¡¯dan, future High Mage.¡±


    ¡°You boast,¡± I accuse.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to bullshit with this one.¡± Shannahi corrects.


    ¡°They are one of mine, from Williow¡¯s grove, if I''m not mistaken.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t¡ª you know of the grove?¡±


    ¡°I have been there. I try to visit every province under my banner; how can one lead without doing such?¡±


    ¡°By putting their other foot forward,¡± I offer.


    ¡°Is that the nature of things, will all fall under foot to ambition guised in charisma and common sense?¡± Speaker Odin ponders aloud.


    ¡°Some wars will never end. It is the resolve shown in such where I find solace,¡± Shannai rebukes.


    ¡°Wise one, what has given you such insight?¡±


    ¡°Friendships with wiser ones,¡± She teases.


    ¡°If I may ask, why are you fighting this war?¡± I add.


    ¡°It is my job, the calling of my forebears, and I must do what I can to better my people.¡±


    ¡°Would it not benefit them to empower yourself?¡± I ask.


    ¡°It would, but with the rise of mine comes their consolidation. I will consider mine to be the most powerful kingdom. My powers are inferior to that which oppresses all of us, and only with the nature of my fellow Kirkians can we be successful.¡±


    ¡°I see. If I am not being forward?¡± I hedge.


    ¡°Speak truthfully.¡±


    ¡°I came to the capital with a seasonal worker''s son who told me there is inequality in our education system. That those born to workers are damned.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll need more clarity on your question.¡±


    ¡°Is there truth to this? I have always seen our way as fair, or at least allowing for fairness. I have seen that other places are less accessible, but I have yet to experience that fully.¡±


    ¡°Our problem lies with general education and the lack of access to other resources, worsening with larger and less integrated populations. We try to implement measures to negate these factors'' effects, though some fall through, which is all a direct cause of the primary issue: money. Wealth, therefore progress, is hoarded. Our system is to maintain this, to stifle people for the sake of order and hate, but mostly out of ignorance. As all true evil is born from.¡± Odin finishes with a sorrowful lilt.


    ¡°He certainly did. I believe he fell in with a group of bandits.¡±


    ¡°A group practicing banditry,¡± Shan corrects.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You cannot label people so broadly; their actions carry weight, as all of ours do, but you also cannot define them by one aspect of themselves,¡± Shan continues.


    ¡°I see, but that seems counterintuitive.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Intuition is counter to understanding; seek instead to be mindful,¡± Odin adds.


    ¡°Yes. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Have you heard anything about Vesh in your inquiries this afternoon?¡± Shan asks.


    ¡°A few mixed reviews, well weary of the change he represents, with smaller groups being either hostile or on board. I have yet to hear mention of anyone who might have been behind that attack.¡± They finish with a look at Shan that I don''t catch.


    "Thank you for your time, Speaker. We must return to our inquiries."


    ¡°As you will,¡± Odin releases.


    ¡°Thank you for your time and your service.¡± A genuflection follows my words, conveying my respect.


    ¡°You are a kind child, a gifted fruit of cherished trees.¡±


    ¡°That was stupid,¡± Shannai whispers, hustling me through the ballroom.


    Shannai led me into the large doors we had entered from and down the hallway. I lose the trail in the awe of meeting a figure I have heard about all my life. The most admired of my father''s heroes, a vanquisher of corruption, Odin¡¯Kirk is nearly a sacred name. A person caring and wise, but there is a weary rhythm under that. Knowing of strife makes it noticeable.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I ask as I slip my revelry.


    ¡°We should probably cut our ball short.¡± She brushes.


    The small, well-decorated lounge has three padded chairs. I look at Shan, and she''s staring at the Wall, specifically a painting. In it, a young blonde person with brown eyes looks out the window, a smile untoned by stresses, yet youthful defiance lingers in the arch of the back.


    ¡°That was stupid. You shouldn¡¯t play your hand so openly here. Your petulance is opposition.¡±


    ¡°I know how to toe a line. No one of our dispositions can go without. I play more openly because I can.¡±


    ¡°That must be nice.¡±


    ¡°It is¡­ Would you like to talk about it?¡± I offer.


    ¡°It is not something I talk about.¡±


    ¡°Well, know I am here if you do.¡±


    ¡°Thank you¡­ That is my sister,¡± She starts after a few minutes of silence.


    ¡°Oh, is she at the wall?¡±


    ¡°No¡­ may have died there four years ago.¡±


    ¡°May have?¡±


    ¡°Everyone said she did, but I don¡¯t believe them. They''re all liars, willing to regurgitate anything fed to them.¡±


    ¡°What do you believe happened?¡±


    ¡°I think she went past the wall to see what''s on the other side.¡±


    ¡°Would you want to know?¡± I ask after a pause.


    ¡°You can not be serious. I swear you throw me off every time. Are you serious?¡±


    ¡°Can I trust you?¡±


    ¡°Why would you think that you can?¡±


    "I am not unobservant. I can tell you were to spy on me, that you blew that first day intentionally. You were to invite me to this function. But I don''t know what you are willing to do."


    She rests her chin on her hand and looks at me. The sting of her gaze is intimidating, but it¡¯s meetable. Her brown eyes have an earthy quality that opens your guard. Something under the pressure of her glare pulls you to look into the sun. She is telling me the truth, and I can see it there in the slight twitch of vulnerability or the furrow of indecision. Among all these treasures, a true gem crystallizes.


    ¡°I want to, too,¡± I risk, taking the first step.


    ¡°Ha,¡± Shannai guffaws before bursting into nervous laughter. ¡°I guess that''s why we were trying to get into the officer training program.¡±


    ¡°You would be willing to?¡±


    ¡°Fuck yeah? I planned on going alone anyway. Why do you want to go?¡±


    ¡°My mother is out there somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Oh? So we have that in common. What do you think is out there?¡±


    ¡°Everything they have told us, it¡¯s just not a threat like they portray. Everyone out there is like us.¡±


    ¡°Even the destructive races?¡±


    ¡°Especially the destructive races.¡± I defend, considering the Goble-kin I¡¯d met.


    ¡°This is great! Once we graduate, we can go down to the Wall and even farther.¡±


    ¡°I have to leave in six months.¡±


    ¡°How the fuck are you going to do that?¡±


    "I am not sure. I can pass the mage exam by clearing the fifth level of the Labyrinth. From there, I can get everything needed in time, but I am still unsure how to get through the Wall."


    ¡°Why must you leave so soon?¡±


    ¡°That is harder to explain¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to trust me a bit more than that. I mean, considering what we are discussing, what could compare?¡± Shannai insists, looking confused.


    ¡°You asked. In short, a time-transcending entity warned me that I would die if I didn''t leave by then and that many people would die. They said I would know this too in time, but I¡¯m unsure,¡± I relent after a while, crossing my fingers.


    ¡°The fuck are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t understand much more about that aspect. Even telling someone adds a layer of surrealism that throws me off.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so maybe I shouldn¡¯t get involved.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn''t blame you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be convincing.¡±


    ¡°I prefer enthusiastic participation.¡±


    ¡°Fine, let¡¯s fucking do it.¡± She jokes.


    ¡°We can talk about specifics later.¡±


    ¡°I concur.¡±


    "Reel it¡ª" I am interrupted by thunder shaking the Wall, which prevails into silence.


    ¡°What is that?¡± I ask, finding Shannai¡¯s face in unmasked horror.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She whimpers.

 Chapter 24

    We rush from the room, bumping into the guards and high noble family members packing the hallway. The Emperor is at the back, nearly visible as they flee the hall. Shan gets the guards off us, and I push to the doors. Two more are at the door, with Speaker Sage stopping us. Shan barges past all by grabbing my hand. There is a short, weightless sensation before we land in a storm.


    A crater in the ground is the focus of the miasma, movement around and away from it. Pieces of people lay haphazardly around, blood and the smell of copper and shit. People are tracking the mess everywhere; some slip on the wet marble. Between the moving, screaming gurgles. I run to the nearest injured person, using their wailing to discern proximity through the smoke.


    I look over the writhing chars of flesh¡ª shrapnel in the leg is my first concern, ripping away a portion of my cloak and wrapping a tunicate. As this elicits more screaming, I remember to sedate the patient. I hold their face and place my lips on theirs, establishing a connection. The tendril of magic that comes forth from my lungs is strange, but I don¡¯t have time to consider it. I called for Shan to take them and shift care to the next.


    The block of time passes like this: I know little else than to staunch the loss of life, which marks red. By exhaling an aerosolized melatonin, I sedate their minds. But I also create a link to their consciousness that monitors vitality. The connection has an added benefit, an effect visible as all connected soothe upon establishment. After four of them, I am near my limit. I have lost two thus far, meaning I have established six. Aside from this, I offer little but tunicates, and still, several visibly bleed out, screaming for help.


    When the white robes arrive, I crawl to a person near the crater. They have more burns than skin, and portions of their limbs are missing. Far from recoverable at my skill level, I struggle to assist against my better judgment. I can''t resist as they call for me. I wrench the last few inches, finally able to discern the whispered gasps.


    ¡°All will die.¡±


    I assure myself that I can do nothing; they are dying. I go quickly, pushing the last of my melatonin into them and connecting. I make this connection more robust than the rest, placing a portion of my consciousness inside them, slowing the dilation of time as far as possible, and generating a cherished image, my mound at Willows Grove.


    ¡°Quiet, lovelier than I remember,¡± a familiar voice calls.


    ¡°Is¡ª is there somewhere else you want to be?¡± I huff in a heap of tears and sweat.


    ¡°Not at all. I¡¯ve always loved the willows.¡± Odin reassures, looking unharmed and joyous.


    ¡°Sr.¡±


    ¡°I know. I am dying.¡±


    ¡°I will keep you alive, and there is still hope with the mages.¡±


    ¡°We will see. Do you know who tried to kill me?¡±


    ¡°No?¡± After a pause, I offer, ¡°I hadn''t even considered what happened.¡±


    ¡°I believe a group of high-ranking officials plan to kill a large portion of our population. I am working against them, hoping to offset the destruction. I have failed, though.¡±


    ¡°What? Kill a large portion of Grev¡¯haim? Why have you not told others of this?¡± I question, feeling a pressure closing me in.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ interesting. I have neither the proof nor the power to defend my claims. As it is, I had neither in enough supply to play cautiously. No, I would always be easier to kill in the end.¡±


    ¡°Who did it?¡±


    "I believe Sage, as well as the other Speakers. I am still determining the Emperor. There are also several high-ranking members of the traditionalists'' party and a couple of Penntry Generals.¡±


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    ¡°That can not be¡­ Our system has flaws, but how can such an act go without reprisal?¡±


    ¡°Necessity is a strange thing.¡±


    ¡°Sr?¡±


    ¡°If there are enough people who believe some outcome is untenable, who believe that the opposition is a kind of death. That belief will justify absurd things with its most useful tool: ignorance.¡±


    ¡°People will not know who is truly at fault?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°How can these corrupt people gain such power? How will all those complicit not raise a hand and say that there has been wrongdoing?¡±


    ¡°Few will have the whole picture, even less tangible proof. There will be those who stand for investigation, and the rest will likely agree and undergo a predetermined show.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have told more people that this is going to happen or that they are trying to kill you?¡±


    ¡°I did, and with my preparations, our lands will fare better in the coming calamity.¡±


    ¡°How will it happen?¡±


    ¡°There are ways that this continent functions; the things that protect us will likely commit the act.¡±


    ¡°Am I to prevent this? Are you telling me this because I have to find a way to stop it?¡±


    ¡°No child,¡± Odin chuckles, sitting beside me on the cliff as we watch the willows.


    ¡°Will someone be able to stop it?¡±


    "I fear not soon enough. It will occur in six months, and from what I''ve found, it will begin at the Wall."


    ¡°I do not plan on being here.¡±


    ¡°Ahh. I see. In that case, worry not for this.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°I will either live or die. Both outcomes lead to my fight continuing.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Well, I will do what I can to help.¡±


    ¡°As all of us can, thank you for your efforts, Vesh¡¯dan,¡± Odin assures with a wrinkled smile.


    We stay like that for a long time, which is only seconds. The rising sun hangs perpetually over the eastern horizon, filling the sky with blues. Eventually, I alone stare at the place where all is simple. I feel his passing, as it takes a piece of myself with him. Reality pulls me to the surface where things are hectic, people rushing around with survivors. I fall as I try to another person, and Shannai is there to support me, though she can hardly hold me. Once again, in the dorm, we collapse into our beds.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask the following day after rolling out of bed.


    ¡°I am not sure who did it. Or, more importantly, why do it? Sure, Odin¡¯Kirk has enemies, but this is a drastic step,¡± Shannai calls from the bathroom.


    ¡°Do you think there will be civil unrest?¡±


    ¡°Unlikely in the capital, but the north? The news will hit your people hard.¡±


    ¡°We have no love for the capital in Willows Grove.¡±


    ¡°That is a common theme in the empire.¡±


    "We will have to be more cautious. Speaking of which, do you have a plan to get through the Wall?"


    "Kinda, I have been working on understanding the types of runes. With that knowledge, I can tweak or affect the runes on the Wall for our purposes.


    ¡°How do you plan on getting there?¡±


    ¡°That is simple: cover with some trip and travel on foot.¡±


    "Dear Creation. I hope not."


    ¡°Where do you believe your sister went? Did she ever show any interest in a certain empire?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure. We were close, but not that close. Do you know where your mother is?¡±


    ¡°Based on what my father told me, I will start my search in the Cal¡¯alvin empire.¡±


    ¡°So you have no idea who is after you or responsible for the attacks?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°How do you plan on keeping these people at bay?¡±


    ¡°That depends.¡±


    ¡°On?¡±


    "If you are a spy. Did your Speaker send you to keep an eye on me?"


    ¡°She did,¡± she admits after a pause.


    ¡°I thought so. But you aren¡¯t going to betray me?¡±


    ¡°I am not unless there is no other way to get what I want.¡±


    ¡°That is good to know.¡±


    ¡°The plan?¡±


    ¡°We will see. For now, I need you to focus on getting these components.¡± I finish handing her a list of necessities.


    ¡°How are you planning on getting this without me?¡±


    ¡°I would have tricked mage Crucus into thinking I need it for the final project or saved up enough to buy it from other sources.¡±


    ¡°Do you know any black market component dealers?¡±


    ¡°No, how hard can they be to find?¡±


    ¡°Intensely.¡±


    ¡°Good thing we have you.¡±


    ¡°Lucky me.¡±

 Chapter 25

    I receive a note from the supply chain with a clear message that furthers me into my abyss. Reading and re-reading gets me no further than the first message. I desperately search for a deeper meaning or an out-of-place mark. But there is nothing. It is the news I have been dreading. It is the incontrovertible proof that I am again a failure. It is death to my plans.


    I have a meeting with Jer and Shannai at the Cafe de Campus. They serve these lemon macaroons, which I order, and three cups of green tea with jasmine. The tables are small, and the room bulges with people on mismatched chairs, but I still find a spot. After fighting two chairs away from the crowd, the first of my guests arrives. Jer strides in with his holy sword across his back, smiling as he catches my eye.


    ¡°What is all this about, Vesh?¡±


    ¡°Change of plans.¡±


    ¡°Do we have a plan? That is encouraging, even if we need to abandon it.¡±


    ¡°First. I have decided to bring someone into the fold.¡±


    ¡°Without consulting me?¡±


    ¡°I am in charge of the plan?¡±


    ¡°You are, but still consult me. Who is it?¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to like this?¡±


    ¡°Get the fuck out. Sage is the enemy,¡± Jer snarls this with an undertone that is out of place on his face.


    "We never agreed on that. I have told you we are victims of the same shit. Maybe their cage is nicer, but we are all products of Creation."


    ¡°So what? Why did you tell her.¡±


    "She is looking for the same thing as us. And honestly, we have a higher chance of succeeding with her. Waste! She has a better chance by herself than we have together."


    ¡°And you trust her.¡±


    ¡°I know we can still make it work to our advantage if I can''t.¡±


    ¡°Your pragmatism seems almost reckless at times, Vesh.¡±


    ¡°That is the other thing,¡± I redirect, the remark hitting close. ¡°Our timeline has moved significantly, a little less than six months.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be at the wall?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll make it a little easier.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I''m assuming you have heard about the bombing that killed Speaker Odin?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


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    ¡°I was there with Shannai.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m not hurt, but I got a warning from Odin.¡±


    ¡°Warned to leave earlier?¡±


    ¡°In a way, he-¡± I hesitate to reveal before looking around.


    ¡°Can we do that thing again?¡± Jer offers, lifting his finger.


    ¡°Quickly,¡± I whisper before putting my mouth around the finger.


    ¡°Okay, he told me that a group of people in the upper echelons of society is planning to kill a large percentage of the population.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And we plan to run away?¡±


    ¡°Are we supposed to stop it?¡±


    ¡°Could we?¡±


    ¡°How am I supposed to know?¡±


    ¡°By asking the person with the foreboding warning, the time-traveling dude, or looking into your forbidden books.¡±


    "They said it would start at the Wall and use the magic there to kill them. I don''t know if we can do anything."


    ¡°Isn¡¯t the magic at the wall similar to the kind you are learning about?¡±


    ¡°Thinking I can manipulate the runes to let us through a certain portion temporarily is completely different from thwarting some conspiracy involving powerful people.¡±


    ¡°Like who?¡±


    ¡°Like the speaker of house Sage,¡± I wince.


    ¡°Like the mother of the woman you just invited to break an ancient tenant?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Clever. Very clever. You are planning on leaving before this happens?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I guess.¡±


    ¡°And what of all those who will die?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, but what can we do?¡±


    ¡°We start fighting now?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s winnable.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that is enough for me.¡±


    ¡°Look, we will do what we can. We might be able to do both.¡±


    ¡°This is a lot to take in¡­¡±


    ¡°It gets worse.¡±


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Jer curses, sitting on my bed.


    ¡°This is a note from the supply chain.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª read it to me.¡±


    ¡°Base taken. Drop dirty. Keep clear. I''m taking time off,¡± I relay, feeling another finger poke into my mouth.


    ¡°What the? Is this a farmhouse?¡±


    ¡°Shannai, right on time. Our friend Jer here is up to speed and has happily approved of your cooperation.¡±


    ¡°I have?¡±


    ¡°Of course, you have because you trust my judgment.¡±


    ¡°We see where that¡¯s got us. There''s not much I can do about it now. Vesh, what if they get taken to the mines?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Shannai asks.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t important. We all knew the risks coming in.¡±


    ¡°Vesh-¡± Jer begins.


    ¡°You don¡¯t brush me off. Who might get sent to the mines?¡±


    ¡°Thank you. We were making money from glow gems, and the people supplying us are now hiding. They are likely fine if they could get a message off.¡±


    ¡°Black market amalgamations? Do you know who has jurisdiction there?¡± Shannai taunts with a knowing tone.


    ¡°No?¡± I mutter.


    ¡°The Seers,¡± She drops, bombing our confidence.


    ¡°Fuuuck,¡± Jer curses.


    ¡°We will do what we can. Aside from that, we will make a great team.¡±


    ¡°Why are we here?¡± Shannai asks.


    ¡°I wanted to get you both on the same page and have an opportunity to discuss the plan.


    ¡°Which is?¡± Jer mocks.


    "Tonight, Shannai will help me break into the Athenary. Once inside, we will find information to subvert the runes on the Wall. Shannai will also acquire several resources to aid in our escape. Jer, your job will be gaining information while you''re at the Wall. We will need an exact location to go to when we reach you. We will likely have pursuers."


    ¡°And you, Shannai? You¡¯re on board with letting all those people die?¡±


    "That is what I advised. There is no way to prevent it. We could offset it with the cost of our lives, but that is a symbolic win. I would rather win my freedom.


    ¡°Should have expected that from a noble.¡±


    ¡°Why am I here if I already know what I am acquiring?¡±


    ¡°Because Jer needed to meet you at least and hear you say you¡¯re on board.¡±


    ¡°Can I go then?¡±


    ¡°I am hoping you stay to add your input. And I forgot to ask how the procurement is going?¡±


    ¡°All will be easy to get.¡±


    ¡°That is good. Anything to add, Jer?¡±


    ¡°Do we have a plan for getting past the wall?¡±


    ¡°We will find it in the Athenary, along with every other detail that will fill in my plan.¡±


    ¡°And if we can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°We-¡± I begin.


    ¡°We will figure something else out.¡± Jer interrupts, mocking my voice.


    ¡°Forgive my cool head.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes not reacting is as mad as reacting, Vesh.¡±

 Chapter 26

    ¡°Are we doing this?¡± I fret.


    ¡°I think it is the best option.¡±


    ¡°I am worried. Kury is a High Mage.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And if this information is as valuable as we assume, maybe we are underestimating the response.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ That is a great point.¡±


    ¡°Congratulations to me then.¡±


    ¡°Touche.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And my point still stands: moving sooner is likely to give them less time to prepare for us, giving us more time to gain information.¡±


    ¡°Okay. You have that. But we need a better approach. Something more tactical.¡±


    "Okay. I''d still be the best to work through this as I know more about magic.


    ¡°You have the floor.¡±


    ¡°We need a central entry point. A place that is covert but can act as a distraction.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°She likely has dominion over the Athenary, meaning she can sense people''s auras inside the building. So I''ll have to make a few jumps before I drop you off, or she will go right to you and not bother with me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have an aura, so she won''t be able to detect where I am.¡±


    ¡°That will be helpful, but I will still do it to be safe.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    "Once I distract her, you read books one at a time. How long can I keep her busy? She is fast, likely a body enhancer. And if she has anyone with her, or worse, a whole team, I might lose."


    "I have faith in your call."


    ¡°If we keep to the stacks, I can jump floor to floor with little effort.¡±


    ¡°Will they come after you if they figure out you can teleport? There are not many people with that ability.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that won''t look good. If I time it right, it should be harder to pinpoint my movement technique. But there is a risk there.¡±


    ¡°Teleportation is classified as a movement technique?¡±


    ¡°You should try a class that uses magic next bimester. Combat classes have a lot of helpful techniques for any magician and deal in tactical classifications.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to look into that, along with the millions of other tasks.¡±


    ¡°Quit complaining and take my hand.¡±


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    ¡°So brazen,¡± I taunt, taking the lazily lifted hand as the process splits my being.


    The weightless sensation of teleportation makes my stomach turn, but there is a new sensation¡ªa pulling thread that snags on my being and connects me to both points for a fraction of a second before we appear. This new sensation relates to the longer distance.


    ¡°Hang on,¡± Shannai whispers.


    The warning is inadequate to prepare me for the next few jumps. My existence is a string snapping between two points. My existence expresses itself in those two points bound by the extent of scale, the universe''s boundary. For an instant, those two places, those two things that separate with space, become entangled and unhindered, allowing travel.


    We appear in front of a familiar building, then a familiar door, past that and into an unfamiliar expanse. Endless books stretch into the darkness. I cannot look but at books holding answers to countless questions. The thought churns, bubbling at the pure greed of such secrecy.


    ¡°Any idea where to start?¡± Shannai considers.


    ¡°I will start with runes, which will answer the rest.¡±


    I begin searching the shelves, which are in disarray. The codes beside them hint that a sorting system of some kind was in use. However, that system devolved long ago, leaving books ranging from political ideology to observations on ambient mana stuffed onto one shelf. After an hour of searching, I separated three tomes on runes and half a dozen books on interesting topics¡ª the best lead so far: The Ambience of Complex Rune Structuring. The guide presupposes a level of understanding I need to possess. Memorizing those parts, such as the formulas for measuring condensed mana capacity or the rune formation diagrams, is doable.


    Of the several discoveries culminating from the growing pile of finished books, the goal is to confirm something I¡¯d guessed: the missing foundational rune. Words are the shapes as they fly by fast enough to tire my hand. Variances on known formations include a closed inductor rune with varied material further into the center, gold on the outermost, and iron as you come to the center to store metal mana. Another variance is in material structuring to produce an oscillating mana field. And finally, the rune I have been missing is mentioned in one of the last books. The single dot houses a mana gem, the power rune, a catalyst for a rune formation.


    The amount of new information presented as if it is common knowledge befuddles me. There are gaps in my education; the more I uncover, the more I realize who hid them. With this tiny bit of information, I can make a dozen breakthroughs. Why stagnate the growth of our knowledge? Creation teaches us to be prudent and have an understanding of conservation. But why limit our progress?


    The thought brings me back to myself as I hear a shifting step that echoes in the dark chamber. The candle smothers under a wet finger, allowing darkness to descend. The room¡¯s tenseness emerges from my throbbing heart and shakes my body as I wrestle my diaphragm. Should I run or wait for Shannai? I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth in a steady cadence. A hand lands on my shoulder, and before a scream can pop out, a forceful pull at my sleeve silences me.


    After some discomfort, I am in our dorm with Shannai breathing heavily behind me. I huddle the bin and wretch until bile is spilling out of me. After heaving, I look at Shannai, who''s on the floor. Her skin is paler than usual, and she pants with a distant look.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I huff.


    ¡°I think so... I was close to depletion with that last jump.¡±


    ¡°Did someone notice us?¡±


    ¡°The librarian, Kury. She has a way of sensing my aura. I led her away before doubling back to grab you.¡±


    ¡°Security will be tighter from now on,¡± I note.


    ¡°I think we might have better luck if I grab them.¡±


    ¡°There might be something protecting the books from being taken.¡±


    ¡°You think? Then what?¡±


    ¡°We will have to make another trip. For the time being, I need to process this information. Once I have it all filed, I may be able to understand more.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Of course. You seem to get sick easily.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Other people are better at this?¡± I jab before continuing my efforts.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t done it with anyone, but I don''t have a problem.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you-¡±


    ¡°Blessed? I am. Ran circles around that old librarian.¡±


    ¡°So that went well?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly, because someone else got there quickly. I think it might have been High mage Phyillius.¡±


    ¡°I''m surprised you handled both of them.¡±


    ¡°I am that great. Sorry, I had to cut it short.¡±


    ¡°Lost track of time,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°Can¡¯t imagine how.¡±


    ¡°I imagine our experiences are different.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I fought off two high mages, and you had a nice read.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°Did you get any good info?¡±


    ¡°I''m not sure yet. It¡¯s all a bit messy. Do you think we will be able to risk another attempt?¡±


    ¡°My gut says I won''t be able to juggle whatever they scrounge together.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Maybe you can drop me off if I can find a way to leave through another means? If I work at it, I can teleport a short distance. I can find an exterior wall connecting the Athenary and the alleyway?¡±


    "That is assuming a lot. Plus, teleportation is different from most things you can accomplish with affinity. You can use a small amount of elemental magic to create a fire on the tip of your finger, but if you teleport just your finger, it will detach from your body."


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I teleport my entire body?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying you can¡¯t, but you could kill yourself gruesomely if you don''t have enough magic.¡±


    ¡°How thick are the walls, do you think?¡±


    ¡°Half a meter of stone, and you might have some limitations. Such as needing a line of sight or having been there to create an anchor.¡±


    ¡°An anchor?¡±


    "I don''t know a ton because I don''t need them, but these anchors are spatial mana. There''s another affinity mentioned. Anyway, those reserves are placed at the destination of the teleportation and can be reached anywhere in the Empire, as long as there''s enough mana stored."


    ¡°Hmm¡­ I don''t want to advocate for destruction here, but I understand why Mage Phylius doesn''t mention it. All the teachers are keeping pieces from us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°So what do you think?¡±


    ¡°It is a good idea if there is no other way to get the information. But we have to be sure of it before we risk it.¡±


    ¡°That works; maybe they will tire.¡±


    ¡°Good luck with that,¡± Shannai huffs.

 Chapter 27

    The other week off intends to be as busy as the first. Isn¡¯t there supposed to be time to relax on these breaks? Regardless, Shannai readies for her day, which motivates me enough to move. My thoughts wander to the information as I wash and dress. The funny thing is that the transference rune acting as the trigger in a glow gem is also a closed inductor rune¡ª something I hadn''t noticed until I knew an inductor rune could be closed.


    My walk halts at all the information floating in front of me. I don¡¯t remember which volumes were processed, leading me to fear that I will find pools of irrelevant topics. My fears crumble as I gaze upon the blue light bobbing in my athenary. Having something so unrecognizable, illicit conformation is strange, but it does. The bobbing nods allure you to the knowledge inside.


    I open myself to my experience and try to absorb the bubble. Yet, there is a problem. The process is slow, as tendrils of light leak away from the ball and wrap around me. Shouldn¡¯t I be able to absorb it faster? I am moving through information, but the ball doesn¡¯t shrink; how many books? I must have unconsciously slowed time to increase my processing speed, increasing the total amount of information. Now, to see what, if any of it, is helpful.


    The hurdle I face in trying to discern the usefulness of information lies in my ignorance of what the wall will hold. I can assume that runes secure the border. But saying I can decipher them with any particular information is comparable to solving any equation because you found some numbers and equations. At the core, I must prioritize understanding how runes function and their capabilities.


    With this light guiding my path, studying can begin in detail, starting with a book on infusing opposing materials and a range of ratios to create different effects. One such product is a permeance gate, which locks mana in a section of the formation with material affinity. Another barrier acts as a swivel joint with opposing forces, creating a frictionless axle.


    I catalog this information for larger constructs, but there is a piece that helps me solve a problem in the wireless relays. The mana fields could be a way to bypass the need for runes connecting the relay. A deeper delve into mana fields reveals an oscillating field. The oscillation of this field extends the range, and with the power rune, I can finally start making progress, which brings me to the next book to find the limitations.


    The book is titled The Waste. The author''s main problem is the effect of The Waste on any construct and the people who inhabit the empires. The Waste absorbs all the ambient mana in the air and any rune formation unless you secure it with a destruction affinity border rune. This complication adds complexity to any rune formation we intend to use by necessitating a redesign and precluding anything incorporating a mana field.


    At least it doesn''t affect the rest of my ideas for tools, and I¡¯ll still need the wireless relay to contact Jer at the wall. After affirming the limitation in my mind, I switch to the next pile concerning the effects of transference runes. The exciting thing in that section discusses securing transference runes, as they are the vulnerable section of a rune formation. Most securities revolve around creating redundant systems to back up the main supply. There are also diagrams on isolated backups of redundant systems. Making a redundant formation in a material with a lower affinity than the base structure produces the isolating effect. The mana will fill the less aligned system when the first is full. I append this under wall preparations.


    The final section about cleansing shakes my fundamental understanding of amalgamating. The first piece of gold shines from a casual reference that implies cleansed mana is usable. A death mage can place this cleansed mana into a mana gem, diagrammed in the book as a glow gem with closed inductor runes. If you can utilize this mana further than pushing it into the water, can it be pulled into me?


    A book for destructive death mages, whatever that was, soon answered my question with a passage on ambient absorption. Only some mages of this category hold the affinities to absorb mana as they cleanse it. Absorbing mana and turning it into magic is something that mages do passively, but to actively replenish your stores?


    The revelations are plentiful and leave me exiting the workshop after a full day with a fair bit of optimism about my capabilities and a tinge of dread. All these hidden things mean something more significant, something I can only guess at. Possibly, the ruling classes realized that unchecked progress leads to inevitable doom. Or there are secrets in there that can destroy a continent that has lived in peace for millions of years, at least this state of quasi-peace.


    Yet thousands must be complicit in this scheme. There must be people who know what will happen and are letting it go unvoiced. Could the foundations of the empire be controlled by a covert group with power and access to that unbelievable Athenry? Someone who has decided this is the only way to continue as we have for so long, a being capable of locking away the light of creation.


    ¡°You look mopey,¡± Shannai notes as I slump into bed.


    ¡°Things are up and down lately. I feel like my head is loose,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°I know what you mean. Being around the speaker is difficult.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah. How is that? Has she said anything?¡±


    ¡°Things between us have been tense since she took the speaker position. My mother and I have never agreed on much of anything, but particularly on politics. She is obsessed sometimes¡ªshe has meetings I used to be privy to. They argued that it was a game as if the Senate was meaningless.¡±


    ¡°You worked with her for a time?¡±


    ¡°Yes, early on. My mother hoped to sweep me up in the grandeur of it all. It could have worked and even did for a time.¡±


    ¡°Until your sister?¡±


    ¡°No, actually, until I met Odin. He sponsored me in my gap year. I stayed at his residence in Faris.¡±


    ¡°Gap year?¡±


    ¡°In the south, we don''t get seasonal breaks in primary school. At least the private institutions don¡¯t. At sixteen, we have a gap year to visit other kingdoms, usually sponsored by the kingdom''s nobles.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you two stayed together for a year?¡±


    ¡°Not at all; he was there for the first week and left it to me for the rest of the year. I found the city to be world''s different from the southern cities I had grown up in. That, more than anything, made me inclined towards Odin.¡±


    ¡°Had you been more in line with your mother''s views up to that point?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. I would have called myself ignorantly compliant.¡±


    ¡°And now?¡±


    ¡°Dubiously complicit¡­¡±


    ¡°I can understand that feeling. We will likely have to lower our standards before this ends.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Shannai laughs.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Jer is right, and I hate to say it, but he was. You are frighteningly pragmatic sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Hoping for plausible deniability?¡±


    ¡°Some moral superiority from a lack of premeditation would be nice.¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°What do you do when the law is wrong?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t bad to steal from thieves,¡± Shannai agrees.


    ¡°Do you have the stuff?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it is in the closet. Cost three gold all together.¡±


    ¡°Three?¡± I gawk.


    ¡°Anonymous shopping isn''t cheap in the capital, and you¡¯d have been lucky only to be extorted for the information.¡±


    ¡°It will have to do, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me; make something useful from all that junk.¡±


    ¡°The assortment may be odd, but the results will hopefully be stupendous.¡± I proclaim, examining each item in detail.


    ¡°I had an audience with the speaker.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°She seems to be expecting me to gain some leverage on you.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ How?¡±


    ¡°Planting something and then reporting you will probably be the easiest.¡±


    ¡°What is she hoping to gain?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure.¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I stall for a time; when that becomes too obvious, we can schedule something for after our departure date.¡±


    ¡°That is clever. Do you need anything from me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You will need to learn some protective rune formations.¡±


    ¡°For?¡±


    ¡°We will need them for our escape. Without them, they can track us.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is a branch of soul magic.¡±


    ¡°Interesting.¡±


    ¡°Try to keep an ear out next bimester, and maybe you can pull something out of Crucus.¡±


    ¡°I will get it done.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Which combat-oriented elective will be a good fit?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see. Tactical Maneuver is a good course but specializes in defending the wall. Probably something more in the dueling focus? The dueling club is full of prospects hoping to face off in the arena. That might be too advanced, maybe a survival course?¡±


    ¡°The dueling club is also a class?¡±


    ¡°Of course, you are going to stick to that. Dueling is a class taught on the formal dueling done for the tournament. It will probably be the best at preparing you to deal with a mage.¡±


    ¡°Are you taking it?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning on it, but if you decide to take it, I might change my mind.¡±


    ¡°That excited to see me get my ass kicked?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, Vesh,¡± Shanni replies, lying down.


    I continue the debate into my mind palace in front of my mass of pilfered undulating knowledge. While the information has yet to degrade, I fail to absorb all of it or lessen the size. I¡¯ll have time to spend here learning about magic, if nothing else. I can''t complain about having abundance. I begin by finishing a book on mana affinities relating to flow rates and pressure capacity. Ambient capacity is the minimal mana needed to keep the rune active, which implies ambient mana levels can alter a rune. So, if a rune runs out of mana, its functionality can change until the capacity thresholds. It''s an exciting tidbit but doesn''t relate much to my current situation.


    The first infusing primer has information I already know, but that information bookends massive discoveries. One of these pertains to something called weak infusion. It is a technique of intentionally reducing the durability of the rune so that it will fail at a given time or under a set of circumstances, such as a shift in the rune''s mana. Another technique meshed well with my macro runeing styles. Micro-runes limit the mana supplied to functions in rune formations. Their size also diminishes the possibility of a rune in that function overcharging.


    The next book expounds on a concept called Mana crystallization. The only problem is the technique. This book only references external manifestations. Using a catalyst, a mage of any affinity can create mana gems of varying qualities. The quality refers to the mana''s density and the crystal''s dimensions, which the catalyst sets. The rune diagram for the catalyst is beneficial enough to validate the reading.


    The subsequent smattering of books all surrounding a topic called rune variances. The work studies different effects of runes and their interactions with outside factors. One referenced the centrifugal force generated by an inductor rune under the right conditions, with which I can make a wheel spin if I place an inductor rune on it and attach it to an axle. Of course, this won''t be enough to move a carriage alone, but in conjunction with other effects? Maybe. I place these tomes with my growing knowledge of constructs and reach for the next on mana variance.


    The journal''s hypothesis is the first I have encountered that offers an idea based on educated inferences. What I have read thus far examines thousands of years of established principles. It nears heresy, the scholar mage who wrote the Trieste on mana variances in the foundation stone. The stonework covers Grev¡¯haim, composing key buildings, the roads, and the Wall.


    It has lasted untarnished since the Founding approximately five million years ago. The Scholar proposes that runes maintain the integrity of these structures from the inside, citing findings from a study of the ambient mana field around each stone. They hypothesize that these fields interact with each other to create a network of redundancies.


    Before succumbing to sleep''s embrace, the last book I can get to focuses on the variances present in mana fields. There are two states these fields will inhabit. One is dynamic, meaning it will change. And the other is static, meaning it won''t change. The oscillating mana field I learned about earlier is the former and thus produces another field as a function of being so. This field is known as the creation field and innately aligns with creation. The text is alluring, but even that can not stop my eyes from slipping shut.


    I spend my free time between absorptions reflecting on which classes I should take going forward. Is there even a point in taking the courses? On the one hand, I have all the information already learned as a testament to the usefulness of the classes. On the other hand, more interaction with the mage equals a higher chance of them deducing my intentions. The hope to drop out is hollow because it''s too late to reduce commitment. Not to mention how suspicious it would be. It could even tie to the break-ins at the Athenary.


    No, I must continue. Moreover, I must decide which classes to take next bimester. The obvious first choices are advanced death magic and Rune Formations. That leaves three to choose. Shannai recommended a combat-oriented elective. I can talk to her further about that when she gets in. Other than an elective, I need two more classes on fundamental magic. I consider my options while rifling through the class offerings.


    I''ve been certified to continue in an advanced curriculum of any affinity I choose. Aside from death magic, I hadn¡¯t used any other magic to a significant degree. Each has a use, but only when I need them, so picking a single one to further feels limiting. Can you choose parts of yourself? To determine what I will understand and be ignorant of the rest.


    I work through each affinity separately, deciding which will give me the best advantage going forward and how they complement my death magic. The first is destruction magic. Sadly, there are several benefits to choosing destruction magic. Though I hate Gallah, he does teach magic whose principles overlap with other types. Destruction magic deals with nullifying other magics and disassembling magic. It is one of the four High magics.


    I brush away the annoyance and let thoughts of high magic lead me to creation magic. The synergistic effects of continuing my studies in this magic are apparent. Being able to heal myself and reform matters are already proving their worth, and it is also High magic. It is a promising choice, so I mark it in the likely column and progress to mental magic.


    This proposition is the strangest part: I use mental magic almost as much as I use death magic, so it should be an obvious second choice. It isn''t because of what the Sanctum teaches and how it¡¯s taught. The revelations in the undoctored Athenary reveal the courses to be intentionally stunted, that there''s a force working to keep everything stagnate. Mental magic is a prime example with its internal source, meaning you can only use your magic as fuel. I now know that a personally created mana gem, an external source, will power my mental magic. On top of that, my innate defenses aren¡¯t as applicable against such.


    A similar argument is made for soul magic, disqualifying both. Elemental is difficult. Depending on my specialization, I can learn countless valuable skills, but are they worth more than creation or destruction? Any skills I can use for rune crafting will be a facsimile of creation magics¡¯ ability to remold matter. And I can''t think of any skills better than the potential offered by absorption from destruction magic. Spatial magic is a no because Phylius is a worse Gallah, and I suck at it.


    The next to absorb that night is on the magic channels in the body. It''s strange to learn that the magic I possess is circulating through my body. Through these channels, formed at birth, one can find spots in their body where magic collects. The internal magic in our body produces auras, which stops my natural absorption from exploding. It takes me moments to wrap my mind around the concept.


    The revelations need time and information, so I shift to the next book. This one is a Metallurgist¡¯s Guide For Affinity. It reveals thousands of different types of metal and alloys and gives the affinity of each. There is even a chart breaking down the composition of the alloys and the forging processes. The last section mentions a ¡°Triage,¡± which sounds like a tool for forging, but the references are too vague to give any certainty.


    As the universe''s secrets unravel, I build with only one desire: to experiment. But for now, there is a task in front of me: Creating a catalyst. All my problems in making a rune formation lie in the power. The inductor runes I used up to this point draw mana out or pull in ambient mana. But they cannot store mana efficiently. So, each rune formation I cobble together lacks enough mana to power itself. A catalyst will allow me to form a power rune to complete these rune formations.


    The actual diagram for a catalyst is simple: an open inductor rune connected to a diamond-shaped border rune with a transference rune running down the middle. Power runes must be centermost in the formation unless you intend to harness the misalignment effect. The affinities are slightly more complicated. I have to make the barrier rune with three materials. The innermost has a high affinity for whichever mana you align to the catalyst; in this case, that is creation magic, so steel wood. Next, a band of neutral material will prevent interference. The outermost is redwood because of its affinity for light destruction, creating a balancing effect for the mana in the catalyst. Everything else is affinity-aligned.


    Everything is in place. The flat piece of metal is innocuous in its two-dimensional flatness. I hold the inductor rune in my mouth and let some of my creation magic slip out. I can feel something. Alas, I will have to continue mouthing everything to get results. The amount of creation magic that spills into the cycling inductor rune is minuscule, yet it weakens me.


    The day dwindles into one catalyst after another, one for each affinity, and with the inspiration of my unimpressed impression, I decide to make a necklace of the eight rune formations. I am not so foolish as to parade, so I tuck the band of twine under my robe as I go about the Sanctum.

 Chapter 28

    Mage Crucus is in the same shack; does he live here? The first indicator is obvious, and the second is the second story that I have yet to inspect. Lastly is the chaotic state mage Crucus is usually in. Even a recluse like him has to clean up in social settings. Leading me to assume his garments are a type of loungewear I am unfamiliar with. Regardless, the polka-dotted satin is off-putting and reminds me of a traveling circus.


    ¡°Good morning, mage.¡± I greet as Crucus answers my knock.


    ¡°Vesh, just in time. I have the last payment for the tubes. I know you haven¡¯t finished, but I thought I would get you the rest before the next bimester comes due.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your consideration.¡± I thank him while accepting the purse liner.


    ¡°I also have the rune diagram for the next project. Which leads us to a bit of a snag.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You went through the material on amalgamations faster than I expected. You covered the syllabus for Amalgamations 101.¡±


    ¡°What can we do?¡±


    ¡°I cannot advance you to Amalgamations 102, but I will still require your assistance. It is the way of things. After nearly three decades of study, I can¡¯t even access High mage status.¡±


    ¡°Have you not discovered enough through research?¡±


    ¡°I stopped that dance long ago. You will learn it eventually, no matter the field you choose. Experimentation is a joke because basic confirmation studies are the only ones approved. Anything new gets cast aside unless it is an obvious dead end. Or, of course, if a high mage wants to study it for personal consumption.¡±


    ¡°So that is why they won''t let you be a High Death mage?¡± I push.


    ¡°Exactly why. And with the truth seers, no one gets away with it for long.¡±


    ¡°How do you feed that desire to learn more about something you love?¡±


    ¡°I guess it won''t hurt to tell you. The best way to learn more is to get commissioned on rune maintenance. You get access to information, and if you work on installation, you can work on the runes at the Wall.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t the runes at the Wall from the founding? How can you repair them?¡±


    ¡°Not the foundation stone.¡± Crucus laughs. ¡°There have been defenses added over time. That¡¯s all I can say.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s what you have done? Repair these additions?¡±


    ¡°Before getting called off to teach a farmer about magic.¡±


    ¡°I will not apologize for that.¡±


    ¡°As well, you shouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°How does this relate to the rune diagram?¡±


    ¡°Right. The inductor rune I mentioned earlier is in the diagram.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Is it a rune formation?¡±


    ¡°In a way, a set of inductor runes of varying affinities.¡± Mage Crucus clarifies, handing me the rune diagram.


    ¡°So a condensing formation¡­¡± I mumble.


    ¡°Yes, you are quite astute.¡±


    ¡°It is an assumption based on what I have learned so far.¡± I fumble.


    ¡°Yes. Well, I am not doing a whole syllabus thing. You have your projects, and I will provide a reading list. Aside from that, my office hours haven¡¯t changed.¡±


    ¡°Sr?¡±


    ¡°I know you haven¡¯t chosen your classes yet, but we both know you will continue in death magic. We don''t need you sitting here eight hours a week while I ramble about things you can read in a book. If you get stuck or have questions that the material doesn¡¯t answer, you can come to me, but I¡¯ll likely send you to a book for the answer.¡±


    ¡°Works for me. Is the rate the same for the disks?¡±


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s ask you. Do you think it will be worth as much effort?


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    The diagram shows a thin steel disk that is three centimeters in diameter. The various open inductor runes have thirty-two different affinity variations, meaning each disk will have a distinct affinity. If I am engraving, the inductor runes will take longer. Should I set a price for the speed I can perform? It isn¡¯t entirely greed causing hesitation. Saying I can create a disk with the same ease as the tubes would be suspicious.


    ¡°It will probably take me fifty percent more work.¡± I decide, cutting the difference.


    ¡°Quick, too. I¡¯ll give you two silver per disk. No reason not to add a raise.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t disagree with that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it would certainly be foolish.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, High mage Crucus.¡± I nudge, eliciting a smirk.


    The class is disappointing in that I won¡¯t be learning anything new. I had considered this a possible outcome after my advance. Mage Crucus is a good enough person, but he doesn¡¯t truly respect me. A silver lining in the coming days: I retain access to the workshop and extra coins for resources or even as components. An excuse to keep popping in on Crucus gives me a peek at his work. So far, I can¡¯t make heads or tails of the thing, except that it deals with an absurd amount of mana. And even this is a leap based on the thickness of the transference runes.


    There are other classes to look forward to. Creation magic would go deeper into healing magic, and destruction would delve into absorption. On top of that are my hopes for the dueling class. But before, I must go to the bizarre and sign up for these classes. The walk home is peaceful, the sanctum¡¯s mage quarters empty in the name of lavish vacations. People still walk about, but if only briefly, the world is more subdued. A figure appears in my path, standing with their arms crossed.


    The figure is approximately my height with a broader build in a stance indicating a willingness to draw weapons. I slow my pace, registering people exiting from side streets to surround me. I am a block from my dorm with three attackers directly in my way and two behind. I stop, controlling my rising temper. Ambushes suck, the odds are never in my favor. My mind spins to find an appropriate defensive posture.


    ¡°You have some intentions here?¡± I call out.


    ¡°We have a warning.¡± A familiar voice sneers in a mocking tone.


    ¡°Ominous. So I shouldn¡¯t kill you?¡±


    ¡°The same rules that protect you protect us,¡± one of the figures shouts.


    ¡°Your swords would not kill me, and I can not kill you.¡± The familiar voice clarifies, revealing Little Gallah from my destruction magic class.


    ¡°So you have come here to do what? Warn me?¡±


    ¡°Do not take advanced destruction magic.¡±


    ¡°How thoughtful of you, but what if I don¡¯t heed your warning?¡±


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    ¡°We will be making the message clear.¡± Little Gallah threatens, cracking his knuckle for emphasis.


    ¡°So you beat me up, then what? If I take the class anyway, will the beatings continue?¡±


    ¡°Basically.¡± Little Gallah grunts, pausing his bravado.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ But neither of us can kill each other because of the laws protecting the initiates.¡±


    ¡°Yes, the protections disallow destroying even you, Pleb.¡±


    ¡°You have miscalculated a few key points. Chiefly among them is my lack of aversion to pain.¡±


    I finish my blustering with a lunging punch towards my nearest attacker. Time slows before the collision, and I land the right cross squarely to a jaw. The impact has me shaking my hand while the initiate thuds on the ground. I leap over the body and run to the side street. I need to be faster to lose the other person behind; they¡¯re likely also an enhancer. The other three are slightly back, while the fifth is rising.


    With the forward momentum of running, I shift on my lead foot and throw a kick at my pursuer as we turn. The attack meets a block, and I stumble to reorient after the spin. Upon blocking me, they duck their head and attempt a tackle. Using my stumbling step to disguise my hips, I successfully juke, helping the idiot into a brick wall head first. I stop in the alley, facing my assailant as they slow down.


    The alley I guard provides two essential things. First is a reduced radius from which I can expect attacks to come. Also, a getaway route lies behind me. I can make a stand here and get a shot at Little Gallah. How did he think something so petty would sway my decision? It will be a boon to get risk-free hand-to-hand sparring practice.


    I still find this attempt annoying, even without danger or thought. Not because my knuckles ache after the sixth punch lands or because there is some dishonor in him attempting to belittle me. No, my fury is born of the petulant audacity with which this idiocy operates. It reveals a life of ignorance and privilege. I see greedy pigs scarfing down all the decency left in haimanity. My heart aches for those who cannot stand and fight against this bullshit, but I wasn¡¯t one of them. I probably can''t win, but I can stand and fight.


    My hand-to-hand fighting skills are subpar, but I have a lifetime of Jer handing me my ass, so I stand my ground and receive a hook to the face. Before long, I shift entirely to defense, as their increasing coordination takes from me the occasional jab. All the world is three meters around my body, and it''s my world. The fluids in my muscles increase the strain as the fibers stretch and tear.


    Block a high kick, half step back on the right to avoid a jab¡ª Hands up. A whole step back left dodges another high kick, and a block leaves me open to a nose adjustment. Jab is better than kick, so I take the jab; the hit fuzzies the edges before magic warms my blood. I am losing ground because their pushes and punches are slipping through, each adding to the growing sections of my body numbing in warmth. The injuries further hamper my reactions, especially the swelling working to close my left eye. My body is not my own. It is a thing I only associate with, by which means meet ends.


    Pain is a faint friend who merely indicates areas I should guard better. The limit of my body is the only border. I use persistence as my defense, taking advantage of any hesitation to throw any attack. Yet they are wearing into me quicker as each landed strike surges through my body. My forearms have done most of the blocking, and one will fracture soon enough.


    With the narrowness of the alley, they can only attack me two at a time. I can use one of my new inventions, but that will tip my hand. I can still run, the fight progresses, and running becomes my best option. I disengage, turning on my heel after a block and taking off. Right, left, then another right while I struggle to grab my catalysts and keep my feet under me. Hardly any mana has regenerated, but I suck it up. Creation magic circulates through me, instinctual at this point, especially now that I know the magic is present throughout my body. One step begins, a heel to a toe, and off to the next. Steps trample into order, cutting the buzz in my ears and silencing my heart.


    I have almost made it back, been clever and resourceful enough to avoid being beaten, and nearly resisted disgrace. I halt for the second time tonight. I chose to fight instead of running while the two still-conscious attackers circled with a pincer to reduce my choices.


    I have but one choice: I can play a defensive position, hoping they will wear out before I do, or I can play offense. I could ignore the need for self-preservation to send a message. I could communicate through the things they believed enough to dissuade me. I will hurt and break Little Gallah. Above all else, he will feel the pain he was to wield.


    I race with a shadow of intention, and that intention flickers behind me, holding the eyes of my assailants as I pounce. Pain bursts into my mind as I strike out, yet it doesn''t tamper my fury. The blows that land on me add to the ferocity I unleash upon the greedy child. Nothing matters outside of my revenge on that petulance that has cost the world so much. The arrogant little stain on my moral fibers. The ignorance of entitlement and exceptionalism that this farce wears as a badge of honor. He will know the fury of those who refuse to yield, those who refuse to fear.


    I awaken back into consciousness with a hand on my shoulder. The fight leaves my body beaten, but the lotus silk calms me. I lost grasp of my enemy a while ago and have been unable to collect myself since then. I don''t like that side, that state of furious disregard. Even now that it''s over, I am justifying the rage with a lie to wrap up my ego. My assailants hadn¡¯t kept up the attacks once they removed me from their friend. Or their employer.


    ¡°Are you hurt?¡± Shannai coos.


    ¡°Nothing I can¡¯t patch up.¡±


    ¡°Are you ready to come up to the dorm?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is probably safe. If you can help me stand.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to tell me what happened?¡± Shannai broaches after a moment.


    ¡°Some initiates from my destruction class don''t want to see me in the advanced class.¡±


    ¡°That is so crass. Was it a fair fight?¡±


    ¡°Five to one, so pretty fair.¡±


    ¡°That is far past what is traditional. There is an atmosphere to cultivate competition between initiates. It isn¡¯t even strange to get some fighting as long as no one uses offensive magic. But to jump you like that? So crass.¡±


    ¡°I thought it was a pretty stupid plan.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t want to get my ass kicked daily, but if I don¡¯t die, what is the real harm?¡±


    ¡°Uh. Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t agree.¡±


    ¡°Getting your ass kicked isn¡¯t so great.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t I know it,¡± I grunt, lying on my bed.


    ¡°Are you going to take a combat-oriented elective?¡±


    ¡°Probably dueling.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m down, but stick to my hip.¡±


    ¡°On it. Do you know where I can get some poison, preferably powder?¡±


    ¡°I don''t think the protections will let you poison the other initiates.¡±


    ¡°Not for them, for an amalgamation. If you have heard of it, I am looking for something like bitter root.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t, but I can look into it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Were you going to take advanced destruction magic?¡±


    ¡°I was on the fence before, but now I think I have to.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Shannai huffs, rolling over.


    I am up before Shannai. I idle by delving into the newest tome from the knowledge orb. It contains a list of interkingdom treaties in the last two hundred thousand years. At first, this elicits panic as I consider the implications. Books on something other than runes will only hurt. My anxiety calms as the book focuses on the runes used in the contracts and the contract tubes instead of history.


    Still, it could be more helpful. I can give Shannai a mana contact, but if I am that worried, I should reconsider who I am going with. For now, the information fits in a bookshelf for all the stuff that is either indiscernible at my level or not immediately useful.


    ¡°We gotta get up, sleepy head.¡±


    ¡°I am up.¡± I bluster.


    ¡°We should probably hit the Bizarre before things get hectic.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s cold.¡± I whimper.


    ¡°Tough.¡± Shannai taunts.


    I pull myself from underneath the covers, embracing the world''s cold as I scurry to grab my robes. They can go another day before washing. I throw them on and meet Shannai in the foyer. She had already gotten us some tea by the time I finished getting ready. The subtle hints of orange wafting from my earl gray pep up my step. I settle after the first good sip, ready to start conversing with other people.


    ¡°You have it all decided, right?¡± Shannai begins the walk with an accompanying banter.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Still set on annoying as many people as possible while being in the only class where they can get reprisal?¡±


    ¡°Too bold?¡±


    ¡°It is your choice. Should we grab breakfast before?¡±


    ¡°I mean, if you''re buying¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, we can go to that trendy biscuit place.¡±


    ¡°Spicy gravy.¡± I cheer.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll try the applewood smoked biscuits.¡±


    The hearty breakfast warms a chill morning''s woes. It''s a sore body in my case, though the bruising is receding quickly. Little Gallah will likely have more flunkies with another fight in a day or so. I should have some backup of my own. The question subdues as I savor the next buttery bite of biscuits with spicy peppermill gravy.


    ¡°So, why have the stall at the fair if you still sign up at the bizarre?¡±


    ¡°The stalls are mostly there for prestige, but they do offer brochures on their affinity, just some basic stuff and directions to certain booths in the Bizarre.¡±


    ¡°Can I sign up for any class?¡±


    ¡°You can because you have the requisite magic training. But everyone else has a much more limited pool of choices.¡±


    Our talking quiets as we enter the foyer of the largest building in Grav¡¯Haim. The central Sanctum towers above the capital city. Maybe I can experiment while I am here. The two-hundred square meter foyer is overflowing with booths and initiates in robes of varying colors. The varying affinities coalesce around their respective stalls, making fields of colors that mingle but don¡¯t integrate. We first walk to advanced creation magic, finding a younger mage attending the stand.


    ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Blessings, young ones. Which tier of creation magic are you here to sign up for today?¡±


    ¡°Advanced, here are my qualification papers.¡±


    ¡°Ninety-eight percent proficiency can be difficult in creation magic, with all those bones and vessels to memorize.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I automatically reply, feeling confused at the compliment.


    ¡°Do you have a preferred instructor?¡±


    ¡°I had mage Saria last bi-mester.¡±


    ¡°No problem. Here is your class schedule and your keys to your Athenary room.¡±


    ¡°An Athenary room?¡±


    ¡°Advanced tier students and up get a private room due to the sensitive nature of the information.¡±


    ¡°I see. Thank you.¡± I thank taking both.


    Next is destruction magic since mage Crucus won''t have a stand, leaving dueling for the end. We approach, and a familiar face turns to us: that of the lead attacker last night. I stride to the table and nearly shoulder the putz before addressing the attendant.


    ¡°I am here to sign up for advanced destruction magic. Here is my qualification.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes.¡± The older destruction mage tuts at the misinterpreted impatience. ¡°Here are your things.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°You are going to regret that. You think I''ll cow to you just because you''re prancing with high nobility.¡± They ruffle and grab my robes.


    ¡°Vesh won''t have time to get a piece of you,¡± Shannai interjects, appearing between the two of us.


    ¡°I have no problem with you.¡±


    ¡°Speak of me in such a manner again, and you will be spitting blood.¡±


    ¡°I shall consider myself assuaged.¡± They mock, moving out of Shannai¡¯s reach.


    ¡°Forget them.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe Gallah sent his son after you,¡± she huffs as we move to the exit, ¡°They consider themselves the next best thing to high nobility. I think they call themselves mage royalty.¡±


    ¡°That is another thing. Aren¡¯t you all royalty?¡±


    ¡°Correct. Nobility isn¡¯t royalty, but all royals are nobles.¡±


    ¡°Are you worried?¡±


    ¡°About little Gallah? No way, he is harmless.¡±


    ¡°I am getting uncomfortable with how nonchalant you sound about this.¡±


    ¡°They want to bend the rules, then let''s bend them.¡±


    The booth for the dueling class is near the other combat electives, by the entrance opposite the one we came in. Usually, we¡¯d have received an appointment with a dueling instructor in the Colosseum. However, Shannai and I qualified for this class with our performance in the tournament. We both receive a syllabus and skip out of the building, spirits lifting atop the prospects.

 Chapter 29

    A new Bimester routine starts with a snack from the mess hall, which consumes my walk to the workshop. Once there, a meditative position projects me into my mental experimental workshop. With the new information, headway is ahead¡ªuseful balls? I hadn''t come up with a name for the device yet, but essentially, they are tiny runes that can trigger a timer to produce an effect. In fear of the inevitable, I opt for the safest formation first.


    I assemble the necessary metals by breaking apart the bars Shannai provided. I toss them in my mouth on my way to the cleansing trough. Before I can stick my head in, a thought comes. I grab my pack, pull out a water jug, and pour some in with the materials to cleanse when the process gives another idea. A diagram materializes, floating in the air, shooting away as my attention returns to the assembly in my mouth.


    It will be smoke, but experimentation is needed to produce an effect. My first idea is steam, but water takes up too much space. An elemental inductor rune could do it¡ªbut will it condense smoke? A product test allows the smoke to soak into the inductor rune, but the emission is too diluted to obscure vision.


    Two inductor runes of varying rune affinity get the job done. I mimic lotus porous aluminum for both and wrap the corrupted rune in carbon fibers. The solution increases the dispersal rate, but I now have to find a mechanism for decondensing the smoke to create the desired smoke level. After some tinkering, I have several grated intakes in the barrier rune. The ducts are hollow transference runes that will push dense smoke out with the help of the air sifted from the smoke.


    Now it''s time for the real thing. I intend the first¡ª Tactical bead? -To be less costly than the others. However, I¡¯ll attribute some of that to the fact that I would, at worst, receive a mouth full of smoke if the test fails. My cut corners do not show on the impeccable bead; this one is dark, and the grates will make it distinguishable from the others. I stare at the dot. I have made things from my ideas. But I lose the affirmative trail, distracted by the call of inquiry.


    It will be challenging to complete all three today, so diagrams take precedence. The intention is to create an effect similar to the smoke with a toxic substance. Nothing lethal, just enough to hamper any pursuers, with which we¡¯ll have ample opportunity to escape. The problem here is the substance. If we were in the north, I could grab some bitter root or a chameleon seed from a rot berry bush. Shannai will know of a local substitute. For now, I assume the poison will be a powder needing the rune to store and disperse it.


    The requirements allow me to proceed with a rune formation similar to the previous. I replace the corrupt inductor rune with a pocket for the powder. Next, I widen the inductor runes thickness to increase the load limit. Once complete, I charge the power rune and mold the barrier rune.


    The easiest is deadly. An inductor rune will explode if it over-pressurizes with enough mana, which is a cautionary tale. But if I can use that effect to my benefit? Essentially, I can create a ¡®controlled¡¯ mana explosion. I will do this with two inductor runes, one open and one closed, with the open being the larger of the two. You will also need a power rune with more mana than the closed rune can handle; five seconds should be enough between triggering and the explosion. Coat in a spherical pre-stressed border rune, and the exposed inductors act as a triggering formation.


    The triggering rune will start the transfer between the power rune and the open inductor rune. That inductor condenses the mana and pushes it into the other. Once the mana density grows unstable, the closed inductor rune fractures, releasing the mana. All of which was impossible before the power rune.


    To call this idea dangerous aggrandizes the warning. Still, it''s not the conception that falters. Or this is the new normal: assembling a bomb centimeters away from my brain with my mind, but it can''t wait. I form a border rune in my mouth to ensure security. It should be enough to stop an explosion, so infusion starts.


    The infusing process uses my ability to mold matter in conjunction with forming all the runes while infusing only the power rune. The effort cost the reserves of my catalysts. I chose to align the rune with fire to add a little kick. The acorn-sized sphere shines with the silver in the outermost layer of the border rune. It¡¯s functional but expensive¡ª No. I have to use it; gold isn''t much good in the Waste. With the successful experiments, I reward myself with a wafery pastel delight that crunches and oozes when I bite it. The macaroon gives me enough energy for my first dueling class while keeping the tummy light.


    ¡°You will be fine,¡± Shannai reassures, entering the training grounds alongside me.


    ¡°I could die, but you¡¯re right. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get too cocky now.¡±


    The training grounds are patchy with trampled earth and splotches of dark soil in random places. The mix of these factors slips down my lips and taste of salt. The instructor stands in the middle of the enclosed field. They tower over the crowd at nearly two hundred and fifty centimeters. I imagine facing off against the figure robed in brawn. It isn¡¯t a comforting thought.


    ¡°That everyone? Good. If you¡ª shut up, I''m talking. -To pass my class, there are things I should get to immediately. Sorts out the riff-raff sooner.¡±


    The silence that follows is confusing as nothing happens. I look around and see everyone in distress, if not collapsed. Shannai is gritting her teeth and standing hunched next to me. The people on the ground are unconscious but don''t look injured. I look back to the instructor, who has their eyes trained on me.


    ¡°Step forward, initiate.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sr,¡± I comply, still slightly confused but starting to catch on.


    ¡°Do you feel no effect of my presence?¡± they ask, dropping the hold that had enthralled the crowd.


    ¡°I do not.¡±


    ¡°Interesting, they told me you are interesting. Now, back with the rest. Those sacks on the ground will need some¡ª extra help. Everyone else: pair off and ready to duel. We won¡¯t be using weapons, only your magic. Conjured aspects are okay, but there are no anchors. Get on with it.¡±


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    ¡°You want to go against me?¡± Shannai asks as I look at her.


    ¡°At least I have some gauge of your strength. Plus, I would rather get punched from unexpected angles than whatever they have to throw.¡±


    ¡°You realize I am the strongest person here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I do. But with my luck, I will pick the second, who will transform into fire or something. You could kill me with no hands, but you¡¯re less likely to do it accidentally..¡±


    ¡°fire?¡±


    ¡°Oh? Something I know about magical theory that you don''t?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll want to keep me polite with this fight coming up.¡±


    ¡°Good point. It is essentially a full conversion of your body into fire.¡±


    ¡°How is that possible? And can it only be done with elemental magic?¡±


    ¡°It''s only mentioned in elemental basics and barely touched on, just referenced as some peak of power for an elemental mage. I hadn¡¯t considered its replicability with other mana types. Probably because they don¡¯t deal with directly converting aspects of body-¡±


    ¡°Vesh. We do have to fight.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡ª Wait, should we be wary of stray magic?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t notice the border rune we walked over?¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°How do you not feel that stuff?¡±


    ¡°Well, excuse me, let¡¯s begin.¡±


    The onslaught is quick and unpredictable. I receive three blows to my body before I block. I must be turning constantly to keep Shannai from appearing behind me. I choose my strikes carefully, looking for the exact moment. If I stop her initial volley well enough, I can get off a single rebuff. The first of these attempts meets a lack of resistance, overextending my momentum and allowing Shannai to place a kick into my ribs from beside me.


    The fatigue of turning constantly and then receiving a heavy blow for my efforts gnaws on me. I focus on being offensive and utilizing my abilities. I can create an elemental effect of fire that will add a little extra danger to my punches. My time magic is currently draining to keep up. What else? Am I of any use without my amalgamations?


    I push through all I know, trying to find some kind of attack. I remember my practical lessons in destruction magic and started spewing different variations of infused spit. My attempts halt as Shannai plants her fist squarely into my eye. The next thing I see is the sky through one and a half eyes. My ribs ache, and my eye visibly closes from swelling. Creation magic circulates at a higher rate, adding to the strain.


    ¡°You stayed up longer than I expected.¡± Shannai comments, holding out a hand to me.


    ¡°You¡¯d have an even harder time if I could use my amalgamations.¡±


    ¡°Not likely to happen. That would be unfair.¡±


    ¡°Against you? I¡¯ll be able to use my weapons at least?¡±


    ¡°No, I would crush all your tricks this time. Mages should not use weapons.¡±


    We wait until the matches are complete before returning to the group. The magic within the battles is terrific. One person¡¯s top half is entirely composed of fire. Other initiates hurl around chunks of earth ripped straight out of the ground. The most impressive display is an air mage facing off against a light mage. The air mage flies around, throwing invisible blows that burrow into the ground. The light mage is flashing like a blinking receiver gem while calling down bursts of lightning.


    ¡°Well done to all of you.¡± The trainer compliments us as we all come together.


    ¡°The point of this is to put some of you at a disadvantage but also expose a weakness in your fighting. Your opponent can disarm you, which often happens in the arena. You are disadvantaged if you have no core magical ability to fall back on. We will be holding two more matches. Once you have completed it, you can come to the admissions counter, where we will have a rulebook for everyone. Many of you know the rules, but I recommend you brush up.¡±


    ¡°Are we with the same people?¡± Someone calls from the crowd.


    ¡°If you wish. You may even perform in four matches if someone needs another challenger.¡±


    ¡°Are you willing to stick with this dead weight?¡± I beg, looking to Shan again.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Did you notice who is here?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Little Gallah.¡±


    ¡°No? Where?¡±


    ¡°Over there,¡± Shannai points.


    ¡°Get out of here. You think it is a coincidence?¡±


    ¡°It could be.¡±


    ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°Why, though?¡±


    ¡°More chances to beat on you?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Like what?¡±


    ¡°Probably hoping to get a shot at you in the tournament at the end of the bimester.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. You ready?¡±


    ¡°Whenever you are.¡±


    The next fight is as one-sided as the first. I lost in less time because of the reduced visibility and aching ribs, which is a success, as I hadn¡¯t expected it to last even a minute. Another upside is that Shan takes pity on me, and instead of taking out my other eye, she sweeps my legs. I recovered for twenty minutes, hoping to improve her practice by fixing some of my impairments.


    ¡°I think you should limit me further or at least give you a boon.¡±


    ¡°What did you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Act like you have a canceling formation, and I can¡¯t appear within a meter of you?¡±


    ¡°We can give that a try. I just don¡¯t want you to coddle me through this.¡±


    ¡°As you said, once you have your weapons, you will have more tactics.¡±


    ¡°To fend off a fireball?¡±


    ¡°Those rapiers are strange. Have you seen anything like them? I¡¯m sure the great Balduan gave them something extra.¡±


    Our last fight starts with less ferocity. The limitation on Shannai¡¯s ability levels our speed. However, in skill, she expertly deflects my attacks while her punches demonstrate precision. Before I consider her an equal match in hand-to-hand, she crushes that overconfidence with decisive reminders. I fall in five minutes, the longest yet, and she is showing a level of fatigue by the end.


    As we exit, we grab our rulebooks from the guards at the entryway. The guide is similar to the rules I have memorized for dueling in the arena. They differ where magic is concerned. The magic rules all revolve around not using infused or other altered materials. Configurations are applicable if there isn¡¯t an anchor in the process. The reasoning here is you can¡¯t duel with more magic than you can naturally store. Meaning my catalysts fall under the rule prohibiting outside mana storage. Weapons are allowed but can not contain mana.


    The prospects are daunting, as I assumed I would use my amalgamations in the dueling club. All my plans for increasing my effectiveness in the class need to be revised, shifting from entirely functional to somewhat tedious. I should have asked Shan more before deciding.

 Chapter 30

    The last new classes finish the week, Advanced Creation Magic, followed by Advanced Destruction Magic, leaving my Restday free. I arrive at the creation classroom and find a small class surrounding the front table and Mage Saria. I sit at the back, not desiring to crowd around anything. Instead, I crack the book and begin reading.


    ¡°We can take our seats now.¡± Saria begins before I finish the third page.


    The now visible replica is haiminoid, with limbs that end at their crux, the light coastal cream wood speckles with varying size and color gems. There is also no head, so it¡¯s mostly a torso. And there are carvings¡ª Shifting reveals transference runes connecting the coalescence points. The largest sticks out of the chest and pulses with a red glow.


    ¡°On my desk is an amalgamation used in training advanced creation mages. It can mimic several inflictions and the control and power needed to heal them. As we learned in our first bimester, this is not an effect of us but of our control of the magic in another willing participant. This level of willingness can be vague and has many aspects, but these techniques will work on critically injured people who do not wish to die. The amalgamation here mimics that flow while indicating where it needs direction and to what degree. The reality cannot be born on this doll, but we must use it to learn lessons. Of all those, we heal and help. So, in today''s lesson, you will learn how fragile those systems we balance are. The key here is that less is better than more. Once you have established a connection with the magic, you must also remember the rate at which your magic is entering the tissue. If the tissue becomes oversaturated, it will be a harder problem to fix. Who wishes to go first?¡±


    Plenty are willing to go first, so I wait to see how they approach the problem. Everyone establishes their connection through the heart, a common practice that I now know to be limiting. I can only discern a little past their starting position and which area flashes. If they succeed, the light will slowly turn from red to green, but if they fail at any point, it will flash red before going out.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t expecting to see you again.¡± Mage Saria comments.


    ¡°I hope I don''t disappoint.¡±


    ¡°Do you have an applicable technique?¡± Mage Saria asks, ignoring my snark.


    ¡°I have a question first.¡±


    ¡°Shoot.¡±


    ¡°Can the connection be made somewhere other than the heart?¡±


    ¡°It cannot.¡± She lies, that or she¡¯s ignorant of the truth.


    ¡°I think I can manage.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I''d like to see this.¡±


    Once the gem in the chest starts flashing red, I take the¡ª arm part? -Of the worn doll and place its gem in my mouth. The center of the stomach begins flashing, meaning I will need to circulate it near there, but not right there and not too fast. My knowledge of my channels helps me as I use a tendril of my creation magic to guide the systems magic. The practice is similar to what I had done during the aftermath of the ball. The gem starts to blink steadier, lightening in hue. I keep this pace, steadily lightening the color of the gem. Red. I fail in a second before I even notice my mistake. The slightest change in flow rate would result in my patient dying.


    ¡°That is okay. It is impressive that you have come so far. Entering from a place like that will strain your control tremendously.¡±


    ¡°It is the best I have come up with so far.¡± I defend, put off by the failure.


    ¡°No, it is truly clever. Well done, Initiate Vesh.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, mage Saria.¡±


    Advanced destruction magic is in the group of buildings across the street. From another seat at the back, I spot several familiar faces sitting in the front rows, little Gallah among them. I smile and mime friendly greetings as he catches my eye. He shakes his head and snorts, trickling fuel into my fire. The class is as large as the first, about two dozen students. I will not stick out too much.


    ¡°Well, now we have everyone. I shall start with the first and only lecture I will be giving this bimester. There are some here that deserve the honor of our time and others who do not. We shall embark on a new course of study to clarify those distinctions to observers. You will be given a reading list and must perform the practical lessons to my satisfaction. If you can not perform in the practical lessons, you will receive a failing grade on the theoretical. This mandate can be issued under my authority as this class is on practical destruction magic, not theoretical. If you have questions on the material, I have office hours, but if your questions are stupid, I will not answer them. Any questions?¡±


    ¡°If someone fails enough practical exams, can they fail before the exam?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they could. Thank you for the pertinent question, initiate Gallah.¡±


    ¡°And what are the metrics of your satisfaction? Will we have criteria to follow?¡± I broach.


    ¡°You must be able to perform simple tests that prove practical ability. Is that going to be a problem initiate?¡±


    ¡°No, High Mage,¡± I grumble.


    Once I have all my classes, I fall back into a rhythm. The new month begins with early morning rune formatting, mid-day classes, and nights absorbing the knowledge from the athenary and connecting it to what I am learning in class. So much of this seemed out of reach when I first came to the citadel, and now I have my arms elbows deep in the secrets of the empire. The work progresses, but it''s slow, partly due to the rate at which I¡¯ve to purchase materials and partly due to the intricacy of the work.


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    My first few weeks of class further fill the growing pot. They give information similar to what I had taken from the Athenary but missing key pieces, if not outright false. Each time I hear Mage Saria caution against establishing a connection anywhere else but the heart. Or when High Mage Gallah discusses the wasting theory without the underlying principles. The truth is that these people are here to stifle my growth. I need to use them to my ends and ignore useless things.


    My first practical destruction magic class of the bimester drives the pikes further into my jaded shores. I am standing in front of a crowd while Mage Gallah humiliates me. I have to hit a stone that is twenty meters away with my destruction magic, not affect it, just touch it, a simple task for the external destruction mages. However, lobbing your spit to hit the same target is challenging. After twenty minutes of failure, Gallah determined a failing grade for the first week of classes even though I had earned an A in theoretical studies.


    The blatant attempt to fail me by creating more difficult challenges is pathetic. Gallah is miserable, and his offspring got as far from the tree as piss running down a leg. The entire situation drips in more and more as I attempt to stifle it. Eventually, I convinced my rage that passing these tests would show both Gallahs how wrong they were.


    I re-attempted the exercise for hours in my mental palace until I could reliably hit a target twenty meters away. It is a start, but I assume the next practical lesson will test a different aspect of control that I will have a challenge performing. The hanging possibility provokes me to try various tasks I could accomplish. After hours of effort, I only affect a portion of the rock with my destructive spit. The saturation doesn''t change the saliva''s damaging rate. I can lessen the level of the destruction magic but not the speed at which it decays.


    I finally have a free moment on my first day off this week to start work on an idea I got earlier working on the¡ª Magic beads?¡ª The idea came to me as I considered the properties of water in cleansing mana and the ability of an inductor rune to oversaturate a material. The concept is simple: create an inductor rune that will harness mana from a power rune and infuse mana into water inside a jug. If you can get enough in the water, you can drink it and absorb the mana in the water naturally.


    I will have to make two rune diagrams, one that uses ambient mana and one that is isolated and runs off mana gems. The next problem is the jug, which will be too big to place in my mouth. I decided to engrave the inductor rune on a mouth-sized disk and sculpt new pitchers around it. I have skill in sculpting, but I have never worked with clay, so there are a few lackluster attempts before I am confident enough to make one. After that, I use one of the jugs as a test unit and attempt to vary the inductor rune beneficially.


    An hour of experiments yields the necessary rune dimensions to overtake the water''s natural absorption rate. It is counterintuitive to need a higher flow rate than the water can naturally absorb, which will be essential in supersaturation. But I need help with the number of inductor runes and the affinities. My elemental water and creation magic test is less than fruitful as the mana disperses before condensing. The water is good at defusing but doesn''t hold the mana well.


    What I had uncovered from the Athenary hints at an ocean of knowledge like salt in the air. There are even entire books that I can hardly make out. It''s as if they are so disconnected in advancement that I can''t even get a hint at their formulas. Words like Internal capacity coefficient and Pinnacle formation prerequisites juggle without reference or explanation.


    The last knowledge absorbed contains an exciting book detailing mana fields and their use in communication rune formations, which is also relevant to anchoring. But why are there no communication rune formations diagrammed? The information on how the mana fields interact is integral to working on the problem. Along with further explanations on oscillating mana fields, it describes the variances used in creating these fields and how different attributes are helpful.


    With this advancement, I can finish the diagram of my wireless repeaters. By sending bursts of mana through the oscillating mana field to another device, we can use the repeater code to communicate. A relay will be invaluable in coordinating once at the wall; it will be useless in the waste, but that''s less important. It''s critical to get this done before Jer leaves for the wall.


    I spent all Restday working on the rune diagrams and adjusting the components to optimize performance. It is a task that is eased by the size of the parts. With my particular abilities, my amalgamation skill doubles when the pieces are small enough to fit my mouth. A complex rune is my task, meaning it contains more than one distinct formation. There are three in parallel. The first is an oscillating mana field generator, which will alter when connecting to another field. The variation on transference rune coils is similar to that of an inductor rune but is more like a spring than a swirl.


    The subsequent rune formation is the simple repeater. The rune will innately be open to indicate off and closed will indicate on once it connects to another device, which will close it. The difficulty here comes from placement, which needs to be parallel to the Oscillating formation so the mana travels through the field produced. Receiving signals finishes the work, which is easier to display as a flash of light from a light gem than creating another one to convert the magic into sound.


    Shy of another week, I have one wireless repeater complete, but the other needs tinkering before Jer leaves. There is no harm in being sure, right? The palm-sized metal box is smooth except for the repeater lever and the two indicator gems, one connecting to another device and one relaying the messages. It is magnificent¡ªShannai appears in the workshop.


    ¡°So what am I supposed to do?¡± Shannai relents.


    ¡°You open the spatial pocket, and then I anchor it to the border rune.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you know how to do this? And why are you lying on the ground¡ª Wait, what are you putting in your mouth? You know the portal could kill you?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª higy-rik herhen kur.¡± I try through a mouthful.


    ¡°That is reassuring.¡±


    Anchoring is one of the last pieces of information I glean from the knowledge orb. It links a magic source to a rune with a technique called birthstoning. Birthstones are smaller pieces cut from the mana source. A natural link between the two can be attached. Six meters of twine and gold is the result, which leaves Shannai to create the extra-dimensional pocket while I link the anchors to the border. The only thing left to determine is how exactly that will happen. In anticipation, I had put the ends of the string in my mouth and sent a tendril through.


    I am lying flat on my chest across the dusty floor with this string in my mouth. The rest of the string sprawls out in a circle. Unfortunately, we cannot do this without sticking my face inside an unstable dimensional pocket. I made a lot of drawstring, turning the prospective bag into more of a pit. Also, I can fit six space gems in my mouth.


    A black spot appears in the center of the floor, its color lacking luster as it expands. The creeping dark is spinning, and then it is a trick of the mind. I can''t discern any fixed point; I focus on it, and it shifts. Yet its nature plays in my peripheries. As the spot reaches the border rune of string, it slows, crawling the last few inches to meet the defined edge.


    ¡°Be quick¡ª this is a lot¡ª even for me.¡± Shannai grunts.


    I collapse into my work, connecting the pocket seam with the infused gold in the string. It''s like sewing pieces of cloth together, but the threads are small, as if each tiny space aligns with the wire. We go through all the mana gems, but the bag is done and will be large enough for everything. Once the pocket stabilizes, I sigh and look at Shannai, who is similarly fatigued.


    ¡°Did it need to be so big?¡±


    ¡°How else are we going to fit all the supplies?¡±


    ¡°Which we will need in the Waste. I got it.¡± Shannai interjects, helping me with the drawstring.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t Jer leaving in a couple of months?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Do you have the repeater done?¡±


    ¡°I have it done, still fidgeting with it, though.¡±


    ¡°It works?¡±


    ¡°Within a kilometer in an open field and no interference. I am trying to increase the strength of the mana field.¡±


    ¡°You worried about the wall interfering?¡±


    ¡°I am. But it will have to work. If not, we will find another way.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good. Don¡¯t stay out too late.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± I mumble, moving my eyes to my next project.


    Pure runes are something that I need to understand fully. The half-mentioned reference infers it is a rune containing all mana in equal alignment. However, I need more specific information on this material. Still,  pure mana runes have particular functions, such as an inductor rune producing centrifugal force when infused. The hours fall under arduous intrigue in search of tools to see further.

 Chapter 31

    Weeks bustle by, and I am in another guise of a test to humiliate me. I have no plans to take the final exams this year. Failing every class wouldn¡¯t matter¡ª yet I am still considering it. For this pompous excuse for an educator to use his power to dissuade me. The same way this whole damn Sanctum. It wears at the barrier, holding against everything I despise in these people. Instead of breaking, it keeps me cordial as I endure their belittlement, forging my constitution into something I am disgusted to be proud of.


    ¡°You will attempt to adjust your destruction magic''s flow rate. Any advanced destruction initiate can perform this. Instead of immediately disintegrating the paper, you must have it decay for three seconds. Begin.¡±


    I have attempted something similar in my mind palace but couldn¡¯t recreate the effect. Think a way around the problem. An external technique means I must control the flow rate of external magic. I had found a workaround for creation magic, but it relies on the thing I am interacting with to have mana channels and their mana. Does the paper have destruction mana that I can manipulate if I place a portion of it in my mouth? In my experiments, I tried reducing the concentration of destruction magic in my spit.


    I place a portion of the paper in my mouth, and a tendril of destruction magic stretches out. High mage Gallah scoffs at the effort, which I ignore in favor of creating a circle with my tendril. Attracting the ambient destruction mana in the paper will increase the flow rate, thus, the decay. I set the last of my destruction magic in place, uncrouching with a smirk. It shrivels up and bursts into dust.


    ¡°Woo!¡± I cheer.


    ¡°Another failure.¡±


    ¡°What? It has decayed?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I clearly stated that the decay was to last three seconds.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t get partial credit? It took two seconds.¡± I boil.


    ¡°It is pass or fail. Have a nice day.¡± The worm sneers, disqualifying another week of work, and initiates a gallery of snickering initiates.


    I vent my frustration at the forge, banging out a set of poles for the tents. The heat from the forge matches my internal temperature as I slam my hammer into the glowing metal. It obstinately yields to my will, rounding and bowing. Should I just drop it? It¡¯s not like attending the classes means anything at this point, yet I am not sure.


    Advanced Creation magic takes a different approach to that of the others. Mage Saria insists on strict direction in all things. Our lectures are concise and helpful, but the church doctrine is present. I can''t blame her. After all, she is a creation mage and, therefore, obligated to the church.


    ¡°You will note that there are several areas in which you can employ these techniques to hurt others, and before I teach any of them in more detail, You all will sign a mana contract forbidding any offensive application. You can read the rest, but it essentially states that you will only use these techniques on willing patients. Good, we will be discussing the creation of bonding vitality. It is similar to what we do when we heal: take a portion of our magic to guide the magic in someone else, but instead of guiding it, we move it to one spot and keep it there. For those bonding, we connect to the heart, allowing us to bolster the patient''s strength throughout the procedure. We have a few bonding gems in the front if you will grab them. It runs on the same principle as the dummy. Once it turns green, you may begin, then pass it to the next initiate.¡±


    Greenlight emits from the gems. Watching discerns no noticeable technique. When my turn comes, I clean it off and pop it in my mouth. I can''t see the color directly, but it tinges at the periphery. Establishing a connection to the gem of creation magic is simple. I sense twelve inductor runes and a power rune inside. The latter snaps to my heart via a tendril of creation, turning the light green.


    I open my mouth, and the green light cuts off as soon as it exits. I clean off the spit and hand it to the next initiate with an apologetic grin. The disgust vanishes when it starts blinking. Back at the front, mage Saria stares. I ignore the attention and consider how the gem creates a facsimile of a heart. The inductor runes simulate ambient mana flow, and the power in the center is the heart itself. But how did it automatically shift to red? How are the runes testing the formation?


    My first thought comes from the size of the runes; if they are delicate enough, the flow rate limits how much mana you can inject. Too much, and you will overcharge the flow rate of the rune, dispersing the mana inside. So, the gem charges with light mana and uses a different outcome to change color. If there is too much mana in the gem when it disperses, the color is red, but if you correctly complete the rune formation with your mana tendril, it will turn green.


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    ¡°That will be it for today. You can read more about this practice in the Athenary. Next week, we will be establishing real connections, so make sure to study. Vesh, will you stay behind?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mage Saria?¡±


    ¡°You might have more trouble creating the connection. When we do the practical lesson, I will have you paired with me to mitigate any failure.¡±


    ¡°Is it because of where I need to create the connection?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you will need more control to create and maintain your connection, which will cost more magic. It has a relatively low cost, so that shouldn¡¯t be a problem, but we must keep both in mind.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mage Saria.¡±


    ¡°Of course, now get going. You should not keep High mage Gallah waiting.¡±


    I drag my feet and arrive at the practical room just in time. Gallah growls at my entry, a single moment of truth between us. I could quit, but he would get off on that. I smile knowingly, slowly walking to the designated starting position. I notice a slight twitch in his brow, making everything easier. He''s also annoyed, fueling my desire to continue pestering the loathsome¡ª Breath. There is a rock with a diameter of five centimeters, twenty meters away.


    ¡°You failed the last of these tests, so if you wish to resign instead, I will oblige. If not, you will only get five attempts this time.¡±


    I don''t answer the puffed-up bag of hot air. An impaired worldview will make any interaction worthless. I practiced for this, and I can do it. A moment in my head assesses the trajectory needed. As for force, a precise application of wind in my mouth sends the destruction magic soaring. It lands squarely on the rock and disintegrates a portion of it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving now,¡± I growl, holding back the jubilation that wants to burst forth.


    High mage Gallah¡¯s contempt gleans in a glance but nothing further. The confounded agitation that rests there is a delight to witness. But I have more important things to do than revel in a pointless victory.


    The following practical lesson for advanced creation magic occurs in the chapel on campus grounds. It is a place you don¡¯t go to until you have to. I believe in the purity of creation and the terror of destruction, but the chapel stands for more than that. It stands for the solutions we use to honor those beliefs. How can knowledge be wrong? How can understanding be damned in favor of tradition? How can this place act so damn proud of ignorance?


    My reluctance steps aside as I step into the reception area. The crystal chandelier hangs from the roof three stories up, shining creations¡¯ light. Everything is white, pristine, and cold, acclaiming the fortitude of purities traditions. The stained glass depicts the fall, the founding, and the eternal struggle. Destruction is a vast snake that slithers through the Waste. Creation never personifies, but the windows achieve this in shades. To the discerning observer, creation is the wall that rises to stop the snake, the people who choose to defend it. In the margins of that epic defense, those who were frantic fought to maintain that precious creation: The mages in white robes. Further, creation could only be the light that shines through.


    My group is easy to spot in the lobby; Mage Saria stands at their head, answering questions. I walk up to a haughty initiate, professing,


    ¡°Never have I waited for such a long time.¡±


    The postulations jumping in are currently digging into my palms. Do rich people not wait in lines? I shouldn¡¯t, but I have to know.


    ¡°Do you not wait in lines?¡± I interrupt.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Do you not wait in lines, like at a shop or to get into the capital?¡±


    ¡°Of course not, you pleb. Do you know who I am?¡±


    I ignore the rest of their reply, reeling at the realization. How could they get past the lines? What do they do? Sending someone to get food is easy enough. A separate entrance into the capital for rich people? Hatred for all this pomp, the useless opulence now reminds me of my classmates. Mage Saria has little patience for the brat and shuts them up soon after.


    ¡°Okay, Is that everyone? Good. This way, little ones. Stay in double file. You will not get in the way of these Mages. They are saving lives. What are you doing? Do not look into the rooms,¡± she herds, ¡°We have some volunteers in the chapel. They will be putting their trust in you, so you must be careful. Mistakes will happen, but if there is negligence, then there will be retribution. Do you hear me? Go on, and there is a patient for each. Once the connection forms, you will call one of my assistants, and they will check it. We will attempt to maintain the connection for one minute, but if it becomes unstable, let go; do not force it. Now you, Initiate Vesh. You will need a finger?¡± She offers.


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡± She obliges, sitting before extending a finger.


    ¡°Have you washed?¡± I hedge.


    ¡°Rot all. I will be right back.¡±


    Upon her return, I allow the finger into my mouth, spooling creation magic strands before slowly reaching out. It''s like trying to grab something in the dark, but instead of being able to walk, you have to press up against a corner and reach around it to squeeze through. I tire with the effort, but the tendril is still stable. I am moving through her channels, and even if I can''t see them, I have a basic idea of how they are composed.


    All channels are composed of the same forks, spans, and centers. I have to follow up the arm, around the armpit, and straight across to the heart. The magic pumps through the channels faster than the flow rate. The source of that pumping increases my excitement, but I force myself to go slowly. Connecting to the heart requires patience, and I am opening my eyes to a spinning world.


    After a moment, the world stills, with my connection intact and stable. I use almost all of my creation magic to connect, and the effect is strong. Yet, it still costs more than I can regenerate. I cut the connection with a tingling sensation.


    ¡°That''s very good. Though you will have to be able to hold it for longer.¡±


    ¡°Holding it wasn¡¯t the problem. I don''t have enough regeneration to maintain it.¡±


    ¡°Really? Oh. It is good you noticed that and cut the connection.¡±


    ¡°Is there any way to reduce the magic needed for this?¡±


    ¡°You can weaken the external projection, but it will reduce its effectiveness.¡±


    ¡°Could I bolster it with another magic?¡±


    ¡°No. Do not do that.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ So, nothing else. Well, my regeneration and total magic have been getting better. I think.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think that?¡±


    ¡°Is it not?¡±


    ¡°Simple. Our mana pools don¡¯t get bigger. Sure, you may be able to stretch it a bit, but if you can¡¯t perform a third-tier spell by the end of schooling, you are unlikely ever to cast one.¡±


    ¡°Third-tier?¡±


    ¡°It will not be relevant until your second year if you pass my class.¡±


    ¡°And today?¡±


    ¡°Today, you passed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mage Saria.¡±

 Chapter 32

    My dueling classes follow a similar trend. The duels'' challenges range from the opponents. Fire mages are the type I prefer the least, which is my first duel away from Shan¡¯s protection. Furthermore, this person has stood out as one of the flashiest. The spectacle is an attribute of the giant balls of fire they hurl. I scramble as the signal begins the match. Avoiding two explosions before a third throws me back.


    I decide any play is better than letting them go unthreatened as I favor my swords and run into range. I spit different types of magic at them, gauging which will be the most effective. Flames engulf their appendages, evaporating the water magic and eating the air. I doubt it will help with the destruction magic, determining my use of spit for the clash. The heat of their flames dries my skin as their kicks trail fire. I duck the barrage and strike their kick.


    I have water magic overproducing sweat to deter the flames beating at my defenses. I flip in the air, sliding on my side and prodding at their other legs. They jump the strike, incinerating the ground at their feet and the back side of my legs. My remaining momentum rolls me out of reach. Changing tactics, I spit destruction magic at the balls of fire as I cover the distance. The destruction negates the fire magic, but I will run out far before the fire mage.


    My blades sing a song, cutting through the heat and pain to whistle at the peripheries of understanding. The dance seeks its partner from those tender to advancement, a step here, a poke there. I have a rhythm, a set of actions that inevitably conclude: Shift here, guard, strike. My dance falters, and the song slips its tenuous grasp¡ª boom!


    I awake in a tent with a creation mage and Shannai. My body is fine, tired, and nauseous but not severely injured or even sore. The two are speaking in a hush outside of the tent. There are three other cots in the tent, one accommodating an unconscious initiate. I cycle my creation magic and find my reserves depleted. Reduced regeneration comes with depletion.


    ¡°How are you feeling, champ?¡± Shan patronizes.


    ¡°I doubt that I won.¡±


    ¡°You did not.¡±


    ¡°Depletion?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was telling your friend here that it''s strange. It is severe depletion, which is due to your multiple affinities. People who deplete several affinity pools at once can experience heightened reactions.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mage.¡±


    ¡°No thanks needed, young one.¡±


    ¡°How did you deplete all your pools at once?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure.¡±


    My next dueling class is more favorably one-sided. Jer is smaller than my opponent, but the armor fills the difference. It matches the crimson Warhammer down to the bladed butt, which is swinging at me within moments of the initiating signal. I weave the attack, testing a few prods before retreating. The hammer disintegrates the rock underneath its weight in a familiar fashion. A hammer infused with destruction magic? Is this one of the little lackeys? It isn''t far from the frame to an ugly half-remembered face.


    A new determination puts my best forth, kindling an ease overshadowing the stain. The prey bites, swinging the hammer with commitment. It isn¡¯t hard to dodge, but getting within range is. I spit destruction magic that fizzles against the crimson plates. Fire magic tarnishes the metal, but will it be enough? No, I can''t produce sufficient heat to cause any problems.


    I plant my strike right between the binding at the shoulder, tearing but not enough to dislodge the pauldron. For fucks sake, these jagg-offs have pauldrons. I stifle my laughter, inraging my blundering attacker and forcing another fury. I focus on the same left armament, tearing it free and clunking to the ground. I spray the built-up fire spit on the exposed padding, lighting the shoulder on fire. As they use their arms to put out the fire, I take seven steps in a circle around them. Six stabs through each gap score the necessary hit count.


    I smile at the brute, my circle putting me back in front of them, waving goodbye. They look ready to continue the fight, but the mediator ends the retort. I am being brash, but the rush trivializes any concern, even if they are objectively petulant. If this is Little Gallah¡¯s caliber, our duel will end soon. Yet he''s probably an external caster like his father.


    I have been focusing my attention on several varying topics throughout this year. Sometimes, there are too many to keep straight or understand what I should focus on. I could be missing something obvious, which prompts me into my soul space, a place thus far considered useless. I look around the empty void, unsure of what I want to do.


    Constructing an image of myself here should give me deeper truths. But I don''t follow the directions provided by the manuals. If my studies in the athenary have taught me anything, it''s to be skeptical. So what can I deduce? Soul mages use this technique to cultivate an understanding of self. By creating some kind of metaphorical objectivity, they detach themselves from bias, which reveals the truth.


    But the guides advise me to make a garden of my thoughts and feelings. To tend to what you want to grow and leave the rest to wilt. A mix of creation and destruction, then. A place with life and decay, like a swamp? But do my feelings and thoughts compose me? What about my hopes and fears? What about my secrets and lies? Or even the world that obliges me, molding me through existential subjugation. Am I anything more than that which composes me?


    No, I am all these things and more. Thus, I need to stand the test of scrutiny. Mine shall not be some filtered garden that stifles actual growth but a mess of chaos and order. To contest destruction and cleanse myself of unreasonable doubt, to explore the reality of my actions, and to be further assured of myself. But with the same breath, never will those wretched parts of me be allowed to fester. But where to start?


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    A swamp is the only landscape with enough. A grove of trees springs from the mud, jaded with thorns and densely packed but resilient, fortified by constant hunger. My mother was gone, never to be a part of my world. But on the day, it became strange after weeks of awkward questions and expectations. Confusion is a gray muck lining my worldview, shifting from white to black as my perception evolves. That day, I knew I would cross the wall like my parents did. I¡¯ll find my mother, no matter the cost. The waters of my fate eat into the muck, diluting any pretense and assuaging a murky pool of paths. Gnarled trees camouflage behind a foliage of ignorance. Classist burs coat the banks, pricking passersby with their poison.


    It¡¯s too much. The cost of being is too high. Realness invades my senses. The world is big and scary¡ª No, will rules soul. In this fetid swamp of misconceptions and anxieties, I sit. Meditation comes easier with practice. A step needs to precipitate. A seed to plant into the soggy ground, willing the new thoughts to grow. Vines wrap around the grove, fortifying their confidence with companionship. Vines form from the tests I have thus far overcome and all that I will hold dear. A new friend grows, a new power hardens, and a new truth gives gaze through the fog. With this, I am not alone, and two trees grow into my accomplices and dozens more for those who have helped me along the way.


    By the end of my labors, there''s still much¡­ Though my eyes lift to the achievements. I¡¯m going to save the world. I can save the world and get out. I have a life and plans to continue striving towards. Once there, I can do more. But without them? Can I throw my life into a cause before even meeting my mother? Can I sacrifice myself before I can find what I am giving up? No, I can''t.


    The practice proves helpful, and I add it to my daily routine between the workshop and classes, a calming touch before enduring what''s become the worst part of my day. I did not blame the mages¡¯ who taught initiates (aside from Gallah) nor the rule makers proclaiming how things ought to be. No, my blame is subtly but wholly shifting to the system that is Grev¡¯Haim. We enforce the fundamental ideologies that form a shared morality. But the question of why hangs above like bait, leading me from my course.


    ¡°Complacency is the hope,¡± I argue, finding Shannai to push my thoughts onto.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find no debate in me.¡± Shannai refuses.


    ¡°Come now. Advocate for destruction? I am looking for a fight.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ The system stood the test of time. How can something that has produced millions of years of peace be wrong?¡±


    ¡°That is the problem. How can we know what peace is in such a state of ignorance? For all we know, this is squalor compared to something else, and that is just as a society. Not accounting to the variance in living conditions experienced by the poor and rich.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you their final and only argument: Creation. Creation is a dictate beyond reproach and plainly states that we must not advance. Our religion is complacency. And so you can not argue as to do so will be arguing the word of life itself.¡±


    ¡°There is no argument there.¡±


    ¡°You are not faithful?¡±


    ¡°Are you?¡±


    ¡°In the back of my mind. In a way that doesn¡¯t consent to all of this but is my own.¡±


    ¡°Oh? A blasphemer.¡±


    "Faith is a calming relief in dark times. As with everything, it depends on how much you use it and to what effect."


    ¡°It can be. I certainly have taken solace in it when less is around. Now¡ª Now, I am skeptical. More and more isn¡¯t adding up. And this place, which I knew wasn¡¯t perfect, has been opened further, revealing a putrid core. Can faith be good if a place so pronounced in it is this corrupt? Or, like you said, can nothing be wholly good?¡±


    ¡°Sure, there is innocence in it, marred by it continually. More importantly, there is something in faith that is uniquely qualified to subjugate.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what else we will find to be a lie.¡±


    ¡°Just stop assuming anything is true. Unless you or a trusted person has verified it.¡±


    ¡°Sounds lonely.¡±


    ¡°It can be, but not all of the time.¡± Shannai laughs, bumping my shoulder with hers.


    Frustration vents on the dueling grounds, facing each opponent as if they were Mage Gallah himself. Until, in the second week of Baldi, I face off against the next best thing. Little Gallah bears a resemblance to the elder in every despicable way. The condescending superiority complex, the pompous posture. Everything and more wears proudly in that hideously familiar sneer. I smile back joyfully, lowering my stance and redying to pounce. A momentary silence lingers as I tamp my diaphragm into steady motions.


    The signal blares through me. That reaction jukes the first blast of destructive magic. The second catches my right arm but has little effect. The large balls are pitch black and disintegrate anything they touch. Destruction is naturally weaker against living creatures, but it compounds. The destructive magic now latching onto my right arm will start deteriorating it. If he can land enough, it will work faster. Already, a light burning sensation spots my skin.


    I fling out an assault and land two hits before a wave of destruction magic crashes into me. I roll without intention as the force tumbles me, doubling the pain in my arm and starting a sensation of burning across my body. My rage billows at the indelicate use of unrestrained power flailing against me, prodding my fury further, fixating it on this welp.


    That emotion tinges the edges of my vision with red, leaving only enough to see that sneer. I tear into my opponent, screaming my anger all the while. The attacks I make lack my usual reserve, prodding strikes that don¡¯t care where they land as long as they do land. I do not care about which points to avoid or how my attacks will hurt. He gets some magic on me, but the pain is distant. I simply wish to break the opponent before me, smash that sneer under an unrelenting barrage. The chance comes in between seconds, and I feel my magic drop prodigiously.


    I falter for an instant, stopping before the critical mistake. Yet what had I been about to do? A wave topples me, and I am tumbling again. Why did I stop myself? I had him, one more attack, and he would die. The intended blow haunts me as if acknowledging what happened uncovers the truth of it. That strike would have harmed my opponent. The strike that drained all my magic would have killed him.


    The spot in the center of little Gallah''s chest called me, telling me a strike here would be advantageous. The center of a person''s magic channels. What would have happened if I''d attacked that spot? In that state? And what had drained all of my magic?


    I have to stop myself. In that instant, I found myself not concerned with seriously harming this young man. No matter how useless he is, even considering he is antithetical to all good and honorable conduct. It was me who was the monster at that moment. And so I surrender to the embodiment of my hate. He yells belligerently as the destruction rains acid, but I ignore it and kneel to my convictions.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Shannai asks after the healer attends to me.


    ¡°I am. Just a little intense.¡± I mutter.


    ¡°You will get him next time.¡±


    ¡°I lost to myself, not him. I became enraged.¡±


    ¡°We all get angry.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t permit such extravagance when it comes to matters like this.¡±


    ¡°Ah, creations¡¯ mercy. You have to give yourself a break, Vesh. You can¡¯t control so precisely.¡±


    ¡°We should get going. We have to meet Jer at the tavern before the others arrive.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re ready.¡± Shannai offers with a hand.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I accept, taking both.

 Chapter 33

    The walk to the tavern is short and quiet. My agitation bites at my hands as I wrestle the door open. My concerns only deter when ignored, as direct attention inflames them. Fighting with it is useless. I will forget and accept it without letting it have any control over me. A promise easier to proclaim than to perpetuate. I will continue, as I have, to do so.


    ¡°Yerr llate,¡± Jer slurs.


    ¡°You¡¯re drunk,¡± I call.


    ¡°You¡¯re both stupid.¡±


    ¡°Whatup ¡®er bum?¡±


    ¡°My bum is fine. I don¡¯t like drunken loudmouths.¡±


    ¡°If¡¯in you¡¯ll ¡®ee a way to escuse my dunkiness.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it. You know we have a meeting?¡±


    ¡°I did. ¡®Lso knew I only had¡¯t lisen.¡±


    ¡°No problem. I have it all written out. It is in the bag, along with instructions on how to use everything. We are here for a going-away party, not a meeting,¡± I sueth, placing the bag on the table.


    ¡°Oh yeah, the louse is leaving. If we aren''t talking business, I am getting drunk.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get us some rounds.¡±


    Mulberry meads are back in season, so I order three. Once the drinks are secured, I dig through the crowd. Jer and Shan are audible from across the bustling room. They are slipping into their usual demeanors with little prompting. Do they not like each other?


    ¡°Here we are. The way you guys fight makes me think you don''t enjoy each other''s company?¡± I question upon my return, interrupting their babbling.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t got any ¡®roblem wit ¡®er.¡±


    ¡°Your demeanor is too bold. As well, you put too much pressure on Vesh.¡±


    ¡°What you know?¡±


    ¡°I know he seems to do all the heavy lifting while you run around officer training getting drunk and screwing anything with a pulse.¡±


    ¡°Oh? How many screws do I get? How many ¡®rinks? Vesh has the role ¡®ey chose.¡±


    ¡°You petulant. Vesh is the only chance you have at doing anything. If it weren¡¯t for Vesh, you would still be in some backwater village.¡±


    ¡°Oh? That it Shanshi?¡± Jer sarcastically asks before bursting into laughter.


    ¡°You¡¯re unbearable.¡±


    ¡°Jer is right, if not amenable. I appreciate your concern on my behalf, but he is right. I chose this role. I chose to come along, and Jer could have left without me. It may seem like I do too much, but that isn¡¯t Jer¡¯s fault. My problems are ones I put on myself, and no one is to blame for that but me. Jer is doing what he has always intended to do.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ll defend him doing nothing?¡±


    ¡°The fact that he can¡¯t do anything is one that we are accounting for. He got into the academy, which was our whole plan initially. My failure to make it has set me down this path where I must work harder to keep up.¡±


    ¡°I see. I apologize for assuming the situation, but I still think Jer leaves too much for you to work out on your own.¡±


    ¡°Accepted,¡± Jer barks.


    ¡°I appreciate that, Shannai. Maybe Jer isn¡¯t the most involved, but he is as loyal and determined as possible.¡±


    ¡°Accepted,¡± Shannai echoes, ¡°Alright, I need to get drunk before I deck this idiot.¡±


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    ¡°Cheers,¡± We all call.


    A pounding noise yanks me from sleep as the door frame buckles and splinters apart. My rapiers are beside my bed. The haziness of sleep still sticks, preventing a full assessment of the situation. My reaction is one of instinct. I tear out at the first and turn to the second. The room and hallway are smokey, making breathing difficult. I push through the dark and remember Shan in the room. Shannai Sage needs no help from me when facing anything, so I disregard my concern.


    My rampage cuts short as the pervading smoke fails to satisfy the needs of my pumping blood. It is more than obfuscation, it is a paralytic. My attacks lose force as my body strains against the substance. I could have fought with a source of air that wasn¡¯t tainted. As it is, the air pulling into my lungs is corrupt, and I don¡¯t have enough magic or materials to filter it. If I had figured it out sooner than I could have¡ª My knees thud to the ground, and my arms slump to my side. Someone is on top of me, pushing me to the ground while restraining my hands behind my back.


    The next thing I am aware of is the sting of a metal chair. I jerk away from it, but my limbs aren¡¯t responsive. My mind and body are numb to the exterior reality, pulling me back into my world. My mind palace isn¡¯t safe; the world''s influences entrench my perceptions. All the harvested knowledge flies from the shelves to hover around me. Deeper still, we journey into the essence of me. A hidden place of magic dwells between my soul and mind, the cord of my being.


    Protecting it becomes the focus. Unrequited thoughts and discordant yearnings disguise it, things that hover at the edges, composed but unqualified as worthy. With all these things that people hide, I stand in defiance. With them, I cast aspersions while still keeping my truth even deeper. No one will find the confidently whispered hum so concealed in the tumult.


    I build walls on walls, hiding away that truth from anyone who will try to seek it, which raises a question. A question I have hitherto considered secondary to hiding. What is there to hide from? Is there a need to hide? Those questions shadow the tales of those missing. If they can find the truth, then there will be a trial.


    I try calming myself down, hoping this is a misunderstanding or unrelated coincidence. The ideas do little to counter the similarities between this and what I have heard. They come at night, incapacitating all those around the accused with white smoke. Creations'' breath is a hallmark of the Truth Seers. All of this becomes clear, and I am back to building walls, hiding away the secret that''s sure to grant me a life sentence in the pits of hell.


    ¡°The accused is awake,¡± a voice reverberates against my defenses.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°The accused guises itself,¡± a second voice accuses.


    ¡°I am not.¡±


    ¡°It has been accused, the accused will submit, or it will die...¡± A third voice trails off.


    ¡°What of-¡±


    ¡°Or die...¡± a fourth voice echoes.


    ¡°You are free to seek. I am not resisting you,¡± I recite.


    ¡°We are sight,¡± a fifth voice assures.


    The pressure encompasses me then. At first, it is a slight thing, like a gentle hug. It takes some time for the person to rifle through my entire life. However, everything obfuscates that one whispered truth. That truth is hidden deep and will be the last thing found if they can manage it. The scrutiny grows as the missing whisper comes again and again, that loose thing that ties together all the pieces. They must have noticed and, of course, have some means of seeing what is missing. Right?


    The pressure is now as sharp as needles, their points wringing spasms from my muscles. The pain is secondary, a thing to consider from afar, with a detached attitude. A bruise here and a cut there won''t break me. The hold condensing my being won''t stifle me. They won''t uncover the fleeing recollections. I will give up everything, every piece of myself except for this one, and it will be complete. The falsehood will stand.


    Parts of my wall crumble under the onslaught, and ramparts of my delusion crack from strain. I patch the sections, fortifying myself around my truth. Here, I am the master. Here, in me, no one is higher. I am this one point of space, this one claim. I feast on the impetuousness of standing against me in this place. How foolish you are even to try.


    ¡°The accused has had enough for today.¡± A sixth voice commands.


    ¡°Have you not found all that you are looking for?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we will sedate it.¡± A seventh voice affirms.


    ¡°What are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, Vesh,¡± a familiar voice whispers.


    The attempt falls on aged ears as I don''t lose consciousness. I see the melatonin burst intended to help me along. However, I store it in some fat instead of letting it affect my mind. I stand vigil at the border of consciousness and add layers to the wall, defending against certain death. They will fail before I do. They moved too soon. They won''t have enough to convict.


    ¡°The accused is prepped for the C.R. Neurogram,¡± A voice calls.


    ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°It is conscious?¡±


    ¡°Well enough, rough night, but what can you expect?¡±


    ¡°It appears to be.¡±


    ¡°You will all be quiet. The subject isn¡¯t subdued fully.¡±


    ¡°I will let you seek openly,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°Accused from its kingdom always know rights and obligations so well.¡± a sixth voice digs.


    ¡°I imagine you have to be rather devious in your work. It makes a title like `truth seer¡¯ kind of ironic.¡±


    ¡°It dangles on the edge of decorum.¡±


    ¡°Another place where the people of my kingdom feel apt.¡±


    ¡°You will yield, and your people have already begun. With Odin¡¯s death, the north will crumble into the fold,¡± a familiar voice bursts.


    ¡°Now, who is on the edge?¡±


    ¡°Silence. We begin.¡±


    It is a strange thing to compare. It is the worst physical pain I have ever felt, but so was last time. So, how do you compare that? It¡¯s presently the worst, so the other pain becomes less tangible. The walls holding me shake, and each blow worsens the underlying tenderness as it induces separate inflictions. It is as if pain is simple pressure and heat, both of which can continue to grow endlessly. There are no nerve endings to fry or senses to shut off. It''s a painful thing that grows worse without any reference. I know the pain will continue to worsen from this moment to the next.


    I often consider loosening my grip for a second, well-deserved respite. To do that would mean giving up everything I dream of and submitting to the person and system I loathe. This place holds everything in devotion to ignorance. It is an idea that gives comfort to those who recite it.


    ¡°The accused continues to resist. It will only end one way.¡±


    ¡°When that time comes, I¡¯m sure you will relish it. I¡¯m sure that you will love seeing your grandeur grow. Even if it is only in your mind that anyone truly respects you.¡±


    ¡°It is a broken thing.¡± A familiar voice needles.


    ¡°Deluded. You are all deluded. We¡¯re all fucking broken.¡±

 Chapter 34

    I slip back, entering a more conscious state. My defenses tended, and my mentality rested. It continues like this for days. The internal clock gives five of them before there is any change. Up until now, I have been strapped to a metal chair and unable even to open my eyes. On the fifth day, I leave the chair on wobbly legs as they shove me along some cold passageway. A sack keeps me from seeing anything. The linen is scratchy, and the chains weigh my unused body down. The cell is a two-meter box with a piss pot and some musky hay. I ignore the accommodations and slip into my mental palace between visits with the seers.


    The snotty slop suspends visible pieces of rice and beans that smell like fish. It is undoubtedly an attempt at porridge.


    ¡°Ya eatin'' all that?¡± The prisoner next door asks.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I grunt, digging into the slop.


    ¡°A fresh fancy one with a gut for slop? Good on ya.¡±


    ¡°Fancy?¡±


    ¡°The noble, ya see,¡± They specify, gesturing to me.


    ¡°Oh?¡± I laugh.


    ¡°What brins ya?¡±


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± I challenge.


    ¡°It ain¡¯t new, ya see? I¡¯m poor, the emper of wretches. Been in¡¯da streets all my life, ya see? Been dead before I''ve been anything else. I¡¯d always been dead, ya see. I¡¯d always been meant for here, even born to it, my opinion.¡±


    ¡°Could you not work? Did you have no education?¡±


    ¡°Been born in¡¯da east. It¡¯s all war there. The schools are miltas and costly. Everythin¡¯s costly for me, ya see? I live on the kindness of others. A woman, a mother, of course, looks in on me in my castle of dirt. Her partner is an angry drunk man and an officer. I ain¡¯t gripin''. I am what I been born to be is all, nothin''. Ya see?¡±


    ¡°There was no chance?¡±


    ¡°No. There be chances, but I never cleared em¡¯. Always too slow. Work is short, and there¡¯s always a cleaner one, a nice and smarter one with better words. So I do what I can.¡±


    ¡°A bandit¡ª I mean, a person practicing banditry?¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Ah? From the north, are you? They call us other names outside of there. Terrorists, rebels, scoundrels. Bandit ain¡¯t such a bad one.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re a murderer?¡±


    ¡°What is a murderer? Is the Penntry full of em¡¯? They kill those thins beyond the wall. What about the land wars? Of course, everythin is formal, and no one calls it a war. It is a formal thin. You can kill all the people you want for the land of another kingdom if it is traditional. Suppose leaders and commanders are telling you to kill your neighbor. And the produce? The gold costs lives spent. It is all a lie, ya see? I am a murderer, but so is everyone.¡±


    ¡°You expect to convince me?¡±


    ¡°No. Just an older adult passing the time. Ya owe me your story now.¡±


    ¡°I made no promises, spy.¡±


    ¡°Ah?¡± they laugh a warm laugh, ¡°Serves me. Ya got me good; ya did. How about ya tell me where you''re from? That can¡¯t be a secret.¡±


    ¡°I am from Willows Grove, north of-¡±


    "I know all the groves in the empire. Ours is red-haired wood, west of the Finvin capital. It''s a stupid name for a city if ya ask me. Anyway, that''s the way of the east. The miltas are the way of the world, and everyone else works the roads or fields. But that''s just me. I hate it all, and so I shall die."


    ¡°You will go to the mines?¡±


    ¡°The mines? That¡¯s a funny word. I¡¯d reckon there are enough dead bodies made there to fill the whole thing. Kilometers of cramped corpses make more a mausoleum than a mine, with more bodies than mana gems. I¡¯d say I go to a death camp. I go to a cruel certainty.¡±


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    ¡°And you don¡¯t deserve it; couldn¡¯t you serve your time and be rehabilitated?¡±


    ¡°A sentence of a day in the mines means I have one day to live. Who deserves to die for their crimes?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone should die for crimes.¡±


    ¡°Then how certain of death can you stomach?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? How is life imprisoned comparable?¡±


    ¡°I am a slave. I ain¡¯t got rights. I¡¯m their property. And they will take from my life. Force it from me with justice and call it pure.¡±


    ¡°So you blame society?¡±


    ¡°I do blame it. I blame myself and my poor choices, but society¡¯s always been wrong. I ain¡¯t enough to reckon who¡¯s more, but both got shit. They can¡¯t oppose creation. Maybe it was simpler, and people could know enough, now though? With everything so muddled. People know not of truth, only comfort.¡±


    ¡°And you know the truth?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± They laugh again, the sound reminding me of Balduan in heartiness. ¡°Not me. I am a liar and murderer. What do I know of truth?¡±


    ¡°You seem to have an opinion.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t? Or you¡¯re smart enough not to talk about it. You¡¯ll see soon; Ya see.¡±


    The noise cuts off like a glow gem, casting the block of cells into silence. Occasional sounds, better not distinguished, corrupt this silence and tinge the air with foul. I study in my mind palace to distract myself from it all. Those disturbing noises pull me out. And it''s back to my fiddling. I wait for my next interrogation session like this.


    This familiarly indignant feeling has started to come on more and more lately. It pecks at me. How? How can this be justified? I know that there are sides, but this has to be wrong. I know it in my bones. I won''t be killing people to achieve my ends. I have no intention of harming anyone.


    ¡°Accused six two four, stand up and approach the bars backward with hands behind back. Now, hold still. Walk.¡±


    The guard is a nondescript person with a monochromatic uniform. The imposing part is how clean it is. It reminds me of the few officers I have seen in my life. Willows Grove has one appointed to deal with miscreants, and Brinx has a small precinct. It does not let a wrinkle smear its authority. I was supposed to fear this person, so I smiled instead.


    They compel me forward by the cuff. ¡°It must be boring work¡ªguarding, that is. Do you get a lot of interesting stuff?¡±


    ¡°Be quiet, or I will assault you.¡±


    ¡°Bring in on burly-¡± I begin before a whack clubs me into curling up.


    ¡°You will respect my authority.¡± The officer barks out in a calm voice.


    The whole beating is formal, with ten strikes before it is over.


    ¡°Not much fun then?¡± I laugh, curling back up to take another ten.


    The abuse over the next week slips into my periphery. There is only one I can trust, only one truth. I am master of myself, and none shall command me here. They moved too soon, suspecting I would crumble. Now they know who I am.


    Shannai greets me as I stumble from the prison. Bags hang from her puffy eyes. I am lucky to have people like her fighting on my side. Her look is that of a convict ready to face the mines. She holds out her finger, and I shake my head, holding out the rapier vertically.


    ¡°Place your hand on the hilt atop mine. Okay, this next part will take a minute.¡± I instruct, moving through the motions.


    ¡°Things have changed.¡± She notes as we enter my palace. ¡°Was it awful?¡±


    ¡°It was torture. I entered some kind of state for the last half. It won''t recall well. I only remember shaking until my whole body ached with it. It is strange how it emanates from you, a personal earthquake.¡±


    I don''t need to mention my constitution, that I have deceived the truth, that I have denied and dilaudid myself. No one leaves if they can''t hold up, as we all have the secret. She holds me as we both hold the hilt. Only those who can destroy themselves in the pursuit will be able to hold back. To whom death is not a fear, but all of these are things I don''t need to say as tears stream down my cheeks.


    ¡°I have to tell you something.¡±


    ¡°I think I already know.¡± I smile.


    ¡°You do? You couldn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°I assume you had a hand in it.¡±


    ¡°Are you mad? How are you like this? How can you even look at me?¡±


    ¡°No, it was a smart move. It will push back the investigation long enough while diverting all suspicion from you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not mad that I didn''t at least tell you?¡±


    ¡°You couldn''t have. It had to be authentic, and it would have been another secret to keep.¡±


    ¡°I believed you could hold up, and my m¡ª the speaker was getting too close. It was the only option I had.¡±


    ¡°I know, but I¡¯ll need you to assuage my concerns.¡±


    ¡°Ominous.¡±


    ¡°It is a bit intrusive, but it isn¡¯t unreasonable.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    Food is the only thing on my mind. It is delicious, absolutely beyond comparison, as it tends to be when Shannai pays. The Risotto''s tender grains of umami swim in creamy mushroom sauce. The pinot noir flows freely from N.E.F.C.D. 21,900 to soothe the savory dish. The room is light with cheer, defying the bleakness of my past weeks.


    ¡°You should have seen it, knocked him flat in seconds.¡± Shannai snorts.


    "How did you get around that A.O.E.?"


    ¡°It was simple for me. Obviously?¡± She brags.


    ¡°I was referring to a tell, or is there a sign?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Yeah, I forgot you have trouble with that. You have to keep an eye on his left hand. He attacks with the right and holds it in the left.¡±


    ¡°Duel combustion takes a heap of magic.¡±


    ¡°Us magic families¡¯ are known for our stores.¡±


    ¡°So modest.¡±


    ¡°To waste with modesty.¡± She hollers with a full mouth in the decorously coarse dining room.


    ¡°We will burn it with the rest.¡± I support.


    Our night''s continuous merriment works magic into my soul. It wheedles as we laugh at the fools that sit at our sides. They lament us or hurl a few insults but are quickly put right by my friend, the foul-mouthed high noble. She will curse so explicitly that they leave in an uppity mess. They proclaim their reprisals on the untouchable opposition to their iniquity, a well-to-do woman with a grudge.


    We laugh about this or that, which is nothing in the end. It plays a chord in my head that longs for my stoic confidant. I am happy and unburdened this time, though, and it''s beautiful. The world is fake, but who''s to blame? A veneer covered in grime, which is the corruption? It makes for a fun slide at best. And we slide down the main street, racking up a ruckus to announce the freedom of reprieve.

 Chapter 35

    My studies suffer as all my attention redirects to finishing all the projects. While in that jail, I discovered a fix for the water jug. The border rune has to line it, which is evident once I think of it. With the border rune and an inductor rune of each affinity, I can hold the magic in the water long enough to reach oversaturation.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡± Bilby bargains.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to convince you of the value of this.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. It¡¯s a damn treasure, but it is too hot. I can¡¯t sell it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t sell it. Take the loss and use it yourself.¡± I argue.


    ¡°Of course, it would cut down on some shipping.¡±


    ¡°Some? You get two people you trust, and you can double your distribution line with one cart. Or play it conservatively, cut distribution lines, and replace them with the two and the bag. It reduces your risk.¡±


    ¡°Reduces the chances of getting caught, but it increases the severity and puts my eggs in one basket.¡±


    ¡°A sentence of a day in the mines means you will die that day.¡±


    ¡°You have a point... I would need at least three to justify the risk, though.¡±


    ¡°Then I will need something more.¡±


    ¡°Very clever. You came in asking, and now it¡¯s me in need. Alright, show me your list. Don¡¯t look at me that way. I know you have one.¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± I submit.


    ¡°You pick it up too quickly, be kicking me out of my house for magic beans in no time.¡±


    ¡°No time at all.¡±


    ¡°I can do it here. Get the bags-¡±


    ¡°These bags.¡±


    ¡°Too quick. Alright, your rations are in the back. Take the creates and get out of here. I assume you have a way of taking them with you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have another bag to take them.¡±


    ¡°Alright, good moves. We will make a merchant out of you yet.¡±


    With the necessities stored, we need an alibi to throw off whoever will chase us. Shannai heads the challenge. That frees me to push out all the rest of the amalgamations. Two more lineless repeaters to complete and test, exposing a weakness in the durability of the lever. The problem might affect Jer¡¯s model, but there isn¡¯t anything I can do about that.


    Several dozen¡ª rune bearings? The name still needs work, but the diagrams don¡¯t. Building them requires as much work as waiting for regeneration. The water jugs relieve this once they dry. A few sips replenish mana half the time.


    My path is clear. The water jugs are storing mana. I have the first set of catalysts charged and a second almost. The¡ª Sphrunes? I rather like sphrune as a name. I have dozens of each type stored away for a moment''s notice. Is there anything else? I made the tracking blocker amalgamations Shannai mentioned by modifying a catalyst. I left instructions for the miscreant merchant, Urch. And I wrote to my father as well. The latter letter has to be discrete, but I think I alluded well enough.


    Mage Crucus exits a shop on my way to the dorm. I¡¯ve seen him outside of his workhouse once before. Yet he is out in the world, bustling about while looking down. He is talking to himself, no doubt working over some rune formation. I wonder if I ever have a similar countenance. I approach him and wave, taking a moment before wrestling a piece of his attention.


    ¡°Oh, initiate Vesh. It is good to see you.¡± He greets me without looking.


    ¡°To you as well, mage Crucus. What is that there?¡±


    ¡°Oh? Yes, my guilty pleasure, I am afraid. I can¡¯t do without them. Would you like one?¡±


    ¡°I can never turn down such an offer. Mmmm. Is that vanilla?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ It is¡ª Creme caramel, they are called.¡± He clarifies, accenting the name with an eastern lilt. ¡°I don¡¯t want to give you one. I just said that to be nice.¡±


    ¡°That is fine enough.¡±


    ¡°It is no problem. Also, come to my workshop so I can give you the rubric for your project.¡±


    ¡°I have been meaning to stop by.¡± I lie, dreading the disappointing conversation.


    ¡°Yes. No need. I know how it is to find the magic of death for the first time. Be not troubled. You will come in time, and I am sure you have half a project in that head. No, it is okay. We can¡¯t help it. So long as we do not act on it without the proper permissions.¡±


    ¡°You know me too well,¡± I concede.


    "It is a glow gem diagram. Here, let''s step out of the street. It is a little advanced. You will find some fun in it, no doubt."


    ¡°That does sound interesting.¡±


    ¡°I thought it would, with some of the variance principles in the seventh volume. You see there with the inductor runes?¡±


    ¡°Very interesting.¡± I think aloud, scrutinizing the diagram.


    ¡°You will need one with the necessary load efficacy indicated in the specification key. Do not forget the gem must have a load rated twenty percent higher.¡±


    ¡°I will get to work on it right away.¡±


    The diagram is interesting for several reasons, the chief of which is the missing power rune. Normal glow gems can run off of ambient mana, but the capacity of the formation hints at a missing power rune. Something even stranger presents under this scrutiny. With pieces added, the rune could anchor to the power source. If my guess is correct, I could power every amalgamation from one source.


    It opens up an entire world, and I have the secret that makes it worth so much more. Without this understanding, it''s another glow gem with slight alterations. They are using the anchor to stabilize the mana in the rune formation. Could they not know so much? Or is he purposefully leaving the power rune off? Immaculate innovations are right under his nose, and he can''t see them. They are blind to the world. Yet another idea pops and shakes even my relentless practicality. This gem could anchor to me, to my concentrations of magic,  like a power rune.


    It means power and is the most dangerous thing I have ever considered. It may be a last resort, but anchoring mana sources to my body is too risky. I could explode. The gems form readily enough once I understand the diagram, and it takes up my last week to finish them. Its rigid atomic construction makes for a merciless canvas. Any flaw rings out, resounding through the clarity and inhibiting the total load capacity of the gem. However, I succeed in creating a facsimile of perfection.


    Shannai meets me at the edge of the campus, where I send my mail. She''s unusually chipper, skipping up and passing along a smile that lends its joy to the world. I smile back, proffering one of the half-dozen macarons. She declines one, only to steal three. If stopping her was an option, I might have attempted it, but as it isn¡¯t, I hardly notice her taking them, much less have a chance to object.


    ¡°You mush ge generoush wit¡¯ joyoush tings, lesh cha lose dem,¡± Shannai mumbles through my macarons.


    ¡°You¡¯re quoting saints now?¡±


    ¡°I quote whoever makes the point I need making.¡±


    ¡°You are more generous with your sweets than? If I remember, you almost beheaded me for eating a cream puff.¡±


    ¡°That was my birthday bouche.¡± She scolds.


    ¡°You have to share things with people for some stupid reason.¡±


    ¡°It sounds better when I say it.¡±


    ¡°I imagine it does. My heart wasn¡¯t in it.¡±


    ¡°Are we ready on your end?¡±


    ¡°Yep. We can make one more try tonight. The test preparations are tomorrow, and the stage is all yours for Restday.¡±


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    ¡°I think we can take a trip to Choux and get some confections for the graduation ceremony.¡±


    ¡°That sounds fun. And it isn¡¯t far.¡±


    ¡°Exactly, we will just pop over and be back before graduation.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t wait,¡± I coo.


    The infiltration is routine; everything is according to plan. We enter with several jumps, leaving me steadying myself on a shelf. Once stable, both hands grab books. A slight blow of wind magic and the pages are turning. I pull the knowledge from the split-second glances, hauling the precious truth in armfuls. It is so overwhelming to be in it. This state feels un-haiman. My will forces me, heedless, into the chasm of understanding.


    My reserves drain as I siphon from the catalysts. I am in another alcove before a hand appears on my shoulder. But this isn¡¯t a hand that feels familiar, not the hand that falls softly to lift me off. It falls on my shoulder like a mace, buckling one knee and depositing me atop the other. The only familiar thing about this hand is the black tendrils pouring out of their fingers. I don''t turn back, but my mask would have prevented recognition if I had. Instead, I pull from the creation catalyst in my mouth and unsheath the hilts in my hands.


    Using the force of his blow and the momentum of my unsheathing, I toss my body forward. The short swords I pull aren¡¯t my best weapon, but my rapiers are too distinctive. The magic is more potent than Little Gallah, the effusive murk burning every surface of my body in moments.


    ¡°You will fail.¡± The dark figure''s visible mouth speaks; the rest is uncertain with indistinguishable borders, but the voice is unaltered and reminds me of that prison.


    The voice that voices the darkness is the bane of me. A parasite desperate to cling to vanity. It burrows into my heart when Gallah''s putrid mouth opens. To hear that indolent drool dribbling from the corners of a mocking sneer. It¡¯s a physical blow with the contemptuous ease of a true patrician.


    My rage towards Gallah rushes into me and provokes an attack. I jab out in furious blows that pass unimpeded through the shadowy form. The projection is a distraction. I roll away, narrowly avoiding an attack from behind where another form materializes. They stand away and don''t make any further movements. I won''t fall for the same trick again.


    ¡°Such a temper. Can your kind keep a level head, or is it beyond you?¡±


    I ignore the words and wait for the slight distortion that hints at an attack. It did not; the only warning I get is the abrasion of magic. I recover fast but can only partially avoid it at such a range. My skin peels off, but my rage is too hopeful at this chance to let such a feeble thing quench it. I have to adjust. I have an idea, but it is stupid. I throw caution to the wind and form an inductor rune on my cornea.


    The pain is impossible and transcends the lines between light and sensation. The formation blurs one eye into a teary mess for nearly three seconds before I can fully adjust the flow rate. The inductor rune pulls in light mana, giving me better sight of my surroundings. The shadows resolve on closer inspection, and I see my attacker.


    I received three more attacks before I could grasp the ability, but they are worth the new application. Dodging intermittent destruction magic from all around is necessary, but the goal is to get close to Gallah. I suspect this is his plan, too, or I wouldn''t have as easy a time doing or selling it until the last moment.


    Within half a minute, I retreat to the spot with my back to the bookshelf. The trap stands behind me, so close I imagine the vanilla smell of Gallah. In the instant before his trap springs, magic courses through me as I turn and stab him. The strike still obeys Creations¡¯ mercy. It is a deep wound that will impair one arm until a creation Mage repairs it. My blade enters and exits from the critical tendon. A moment hangs after the attack where Gallah is truly surprised. I use this moment to deal with the other arm before running away at full speed. I call the exit sound with a blaring, finger-assisted whistle. Furious screams burst from my attacker, who slowly swings his injured arms, sending weak attacks.


    My magic fails as I stumble across the balcony in a stuttering retreat. The familiar hand appears again, and we are in a lake, the ice-cold water shocking me after the brief moment of weightlessness. My bearings submerge under the tumult, and it takes me a moment to locate the surface where Shannai is treading water with a relaxed smile. We both catch our breath before returning to the dorm, letting the water strip away any unwelcome magic. Once we are in the dorm and the dryness, Shannai regales me with her conquest.


    ¡°Beat his ass. He fell off a roof, I think. Certainly kicked him off one, but I am unsure whether he hit the ground.¡±


    ¡°You are unmatched, the spatial champion.¡±


    ¡°Too specific. The best of everyone sounds better. The unconquerable; something like that?¡±


    ¡°I imagine you¡¯ll be conquering.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we can¡¯t let on. My aggression has to be warranted, so it is best to play it as defensive.¡±


    ¡°The arguments of rulers.¡±


    The battle leaves me with some boldness, soothed slightly due to the burns but still present. Destruction magic on a body acts like acid, melting away the skin. The condition is debilitating enough that Shannai needs to help me into bed. However, I will recover by tomorrow.


    The next day, Shannai waits outside the testing building. We arrive from separate directions and meet in the alleyway behind it. Her eyes look for mischief in mine while her demeanor maintains its usual upright stillness. I find comfort in it and wonder why I have such firm friends to assist me.


    ¡°Are you prepared?¡± I ask as I walk up to her.


    ¡°Do not worry about me; you are the weak one.¡±


    ¡°Your concern is appreciated,¡± I thank the empty air where Shannai had been.


    A click at the door informs me of her success. I open it, slip in, and trip over an end table. Curses whisper out as I return to my feet and approach the testing room. The silence of the building puts me on edge; no one can know our plan, yet the mood feels off.


    Shannai has cleared the room already, so we step in. I grab the connection cable, hooking it to the chair. With only one connection, we will have to take the test separately. We will have one chance to complete the test before fleeing tomorrow.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± I inquire.


    ¡°Send me in.¡±


    ¡°Before you go in, remember you don¡¯t have to kill everything. You just have to make it to the next floor,¡± I remind the bloodthirsty noble.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± I relent, initiating the neural link with an inductor rune in the chair harness.


    Mental magic has particular limitations, such as allowing for the formation of runes on or inside someone, whether willing or unconscious, with diminished defenses. This property is how the crystal pulls in participants. It''s like sending a copy of yourself into a different world, except the copy is an avatar of the consciousness it represents.


    I examine the visible rune formations in the room and note them. Shannai is stable for several hours as I study until she sturs, shifting with pain on her face. Checking the connection shows no problems. I attempt to connect to her consciousness in the trial, but there is a white-hot interference. To check her over for injuries, I thread a strand into her through the finger, which disperses. That is when I notice a tattoo burning itself on the back of her hand. It resembles an inductor rune but has strange variances, such as the intertwined transference runes at the top. While I study it, she bursts to life, teleporting to the other side of the room. Sweat plasters her hair to her face, but the look in her eyes doesn''t falter.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I fret.


    ¡°Yes¡­ It is more painful than I expected.¡± She shakily speaks after a few reassuring glances around.


    ¡°That is promising. Is there anything I should know?¡±


    ¡°The end bit hurts a lot,¡± She smiles.


    ¡°Full of wisdom. Let''s get this done. We only have a few more hours.¡±


    ¡°How are you going to beat that in time? These things take you forever.¡±


    ¡°I will be slowing time inside the test,¡± I reassure myself, sitting in the chair.


    ¡°Is that safe?¡± She hedges.


    ¡°I am not sure,¡± I boast as I place the device on my head.


    A familiar black entry hallway appears before me. Since my last visit, I have realized creation and mental magic allow me to bring stuff into the labyrinth. The only limitation is my understanding of the object. Similar to creating things in a mind palace, as opposed to remembering them. For example, I can produce my training rapiers but not the real ones. I materialize my wooden defense, two whistles, ten metal tubes, and a bag of amalgamations. This chance to test them, as well as myself, lies ahead, to see how much my study has grown my ability.


    I wait for my magic to regenerate before jogging down the quickest hallway. The traps and the bats are nothing, bolstering my stride. The Panther is a different story, yet not as formidable. Which lessens my triumph, but I come prepared. A simple tool can best the greatest of adversaries. In the willows, when a young panther is trying to push his domain into the forest around the town, a torch is enough to dissuade them. I pull a torch of my design, which uses a glow gem. For two hours, it provides light before needing direct sunlight for the same amount of time. The red glow pushes the willow panther to the end of the hallway, allowing me to advance past it.


    When I come to the doors for the final challenge, I use a more straightforward method for disrupting the power runes: disconnecting the power gem with destructive spit. Several sharpened sticks sail through the opening as I shove the heavy thing. I display the coin given to me by the leader of this tribe on my first trip through this floor. Holding it up to the crack in the door, I call out a loud entreaty.


    ¡°Friend, I am a friend of the clan.¡±


    Murmurs seep through the door before a familiar voice calls out, commanding me to show myself. I step into the room with my hands up, one displaying the coin while the other clutches a¡ª condensed ball?¡ª of smoke. Once the activation rune is triggered, the smoke contained will decondense, covering roughly ten square meters depending on wind speed.


    ¡°Haiman!¡± They all call, startling me.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I ask.


    ¡°There is no need to feel shame here. You are a friend of the clan,¡± the chief calls.


    They stand taller than all the other goble-kin, using a familiar rapier as a staff. They also wreathe themselves in the old scraps of my robes. The garment is half the length, with patches speckling it. They come over and embrace my legs in a firm hug.


    ¡°It is good to see you too, Chief.¡±


    ¡°Are you deepening your mind in the maze this time?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan, as deep as the fifth floor.¡±


    ¡°That is indeed a deepening. Well, good luck.¡±


    ¡°Do you know anything of the deeper floors?¡±


    ¡°I have never been past here. We have no reason for deepening.¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­ Alri-¡± I begin as something occurs to me, ¡°Would you want to come with me?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Bringing the whole clan will be difficult. It will be best to take the strongest. But what if the panther attacks now that the door is open?¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± I assure them as I fix and reseal the door.


    ¡°We shall embark then. Come, my kin, come to me.¡± The chief calls to a rougher-looking group, each holding a wooden spear.


    ¡°Come forth, and I shall bless you for our fabled journey,¡± I call.


    As each comes up, I place a metal tube on the end of their spears and put my mouth around it. I coat the tip with metal and add a transference rune to the weapon, condensing the structure for sturdiness. The task is taxing. I have to pause twice before I finish all six. Seeing the chief still has theirs, I add one tube for appearances. With all our forces mustered, we push open the door at the back of the room, entering the second floor.


    We step into a forest full of life. Tall timber trees with long leaves surround us. Plants color the orange moss, dominating the ground. Even the willows don¡¯t cluster with such abundant life, and we have the densest foliage in the empire. I have to stop to find the next step. Three game trails sit in front of us. I gesture for the rest to keep close as I choose the one to the right.


    No resistance meets our trek. Occasionally, we will catch the sound of an animal moving away from us¡ªnothing louder than a tree rat. The nearest roots reverberate at an obnoxious input level, so we remain blind. I notice a black spot on one of the plants along the way. It has only come to my attention because I have seen a similar flower in the entryway without the discoloration. And now, the black spot is growing and transferring to the other pedals, disconcerting.


    We come across our first animal half an hour into the floor. A meter-tall gofer sticks out above the grass. The only strange thing is its color, solid black. We come together as we edge closer to the creature. I dread having to attack them, but I have resolved that I will if I have to. You must do some things for no other reason.


    The gofer takes off as we enter its range, trundling through the foliage with a lopsided gait. I am relieved it doesn''t wish to attack us until I notice the foliage it brushes past. In a clear path, all the plants touched turn black at the point of contact. We can follow it, or we can move to the door. I look around and see more spots of black than before.


    ¡°What do you believe we should do, chief?¡±


    ¡°I am of the mind that we can hunt here, but that gopher is killing. It will have to die,¡± the chief clarifies.


    ¡°You will have to fight that battle on your own. I have to reach the fifth floor as quickly as possible.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.


    We follow the path until there is a hole in the ground. The area around is a network of tunnels that we must slowly pass. After another hour of travel, we reach the five-meter door to the next floor. The forest is more black than green now, but the orange moss is unfazed. We can''t leave the path without risking infection.


    We create a perimeter in the clearing before the door, with the Goble-kin scanning the forest as I examine the puzzle. The rune is complicated, much more than the previous one. The redundancies prevent tampering, or at least try to. The point of this floor is to find the source of the corruption and deal with it somehow. That sounds fun, but I don¡¯t have time for that. If the doors have runes, that will be my fastest way through.


    Hundreds of transference runes, some decoys, some fallbacks, and others make the door as dense as a Drevald¡¯s scales. The lock uses the weight of the door to keep it in place. If you destroy the locks, you will also destroy the rune formation that makes the doors movable. I focus my attention on one door, looking at each rune.


    When I have my plan in place, I remove the connection to all the fallback runes and activate all the others, which makes the door smaller but still movable. Adding extra magic is necessary as I have to add several power-intensive rune formations to the door. My kit is needed to add an inductor rune to the bottom that is now accessible. Then, I flatten two metal tubes into disks and add an opposing rune. Placing the disks under the door, I call everyone together.


    ¡°When I say so, push this door,¡± I command as they nod.


    ¡°Push!¡± I call out as I activate the inductor runes under the door.


    When I put mana into the door, a nyx-shaking roar splits my skull. The door gives with a shove, and we all fall with it, abruptly stopping as the door loses its connection. The regrowth sticks it into the ceiling and the floor, leaving enough room for the Goble-kin. Once inside, they pry at the door while I squirm everything possible to slip through the crack.


    I don¡¯t look back at the forest, but my ears are not as inhibited, discerning a growl accompanying a rustle. The sound is not far off, and the door is centimeters from yielding my frame. I slip through, falling to the stone ground on the other side in a tangle. After disentangling from my companions, I see the following challenge: a series of lit pillars leading to a similar platform on the side. All else is darkness, where a long fall awaits. Taking a moment to calm myself, I look to the platforms. They increase in distance apart while decreasing in size. I pull out an absurd amount of rope, tying us together.


    ¡°Looks like this is straightforward,¡± I comment.


    The Goble-kin lead and I jump last, but as soon as I step on the first platform, there is a problem. A small portion of the pillar becomes unlit, stone falling away as the darkness grows. We look at each other, and unspoken words confirm everyone¡¯s mindset. We file to the back, getting momentum for the jump. The last one on the platform will catch the next person to jump as everyone else continues. We make it to the final jump. However, I come up short by about a foot, missing the ledge and smacking into the side of the platform, leaving me dangling over the edge with darkness clawing at me.


    ¡°The fuck!¡± I scream, clinging to the rope.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move, Haiman! We gotcha.¡± An assured shout rolls over the edge as I scream.

 Chapter 36

    They hauled me up in time, laughing the whole way up. When I was safely on the ledge, they threw me on the ground in a puddle of mirth. I couldn''t help but join in as they informed me how stupid my face looked when I realized I wasn¡¯t making it. My body made a ¡®good plop¡¯ upon colliding with the wall. I decided my team needed some time, so we stayed there for a short rest.


    ¡°What are all of your names?¡±


    ¡°I be chief,¡± the chief reminds.


    ¡°I be Gleb.¡± the smallest¡ª and youngest?¡ª announces.


    ¡°I be Darko,¡± the darkest comments with disinterest.


    ¡°Pointy,¡± The big-eared one mumbles.


    ¡°I be Big,¡± The second largest of the goble-kin brags.


    ¡°Yous can call me Keeper,¡± The only other grey-haired goble-kin finishes.


    ¡°How exactly do you survive here?¡± I ask the chief.


    ¡°That is a silly question. We exist here as we have for many times,¡± The Chief barks.


    ¡°Generations,¡± Gleb adds.


    ¡°Yes, lots of times. Things have not changed for us until you came,¡± the keeper agrees.


    ¡°I am the first you have met?¡±


    ¡°No, there have been others. They kill us. You evil races come, only those kinds,¡± The Chief answers.


    ¡°You have encountered other races than the Haimen?¡±


    ¡°Yes, all the evil races. Parths, Alvs, and Haims all comin'' in to kill decent Goble-Kin.¡±


    ¡°What changed when I came?¡±


    ¡°I guess we don''t get killed, so we change. The panther comes back when the door fixes,¡± the chief adds.


    ¡°Hmm. Do you remember anything from your life before?¡±


    ¡°I am the keeper. Our people come from bountiful lands that are endless until it ends. Time before the collapse is lost; its keepers fell with the world. When we can not survive in our space, there is a great fleeing to Jarah. We must tribute people to the great gem to live,¡± the keeper states passively.


    ¡°That is a terrible choice,¡± I try.


    "It wasn''t, just a way life flowed. We forget in time, allowing ours to exist in stillness. It is better to keep this truth, for I know no escape." The keeper finishes with a dry sort of sorrow.


    ¡°I feel empathy for what you and your people have endured.¡±


    "It is noted but does little for us. Not that it is yours to deal with; we may never be able to free ourselves, and that still won''t make it your responsibility," The keeper assures, lifting their chin.


    ¡°I understand. Thank you for sharing that with me.¡±


    ¡°You are welcome, Haiman.¡±


    Continuing our journey brings us to the door that leads to the fourth floor. Pushing it open, we file into a small room. There is an archway and a hallway with three turns, and the walls are so black that it''s hard to see the end of the passageway. Determining to avoid making the same mistake as my midterms, I run down the middle hallway. I mark the corner as we make turns, building a model in my mind palace. While scanning the ground for traps, I spot a niche. My hand goes up, but the group still runs into me. Should I trigger or move past it? Seeing no benefit to triggering the trap, I motion for everyone to move past.


    We spend a couple of hours moving through corridors, avoiding the traps, and doubling back when we can''t continue. Every trap we encounter is the same as the first. It is odd compared to everything thus far, which increases in difficulty. These increase in frequency but are no more difficult to spot. We have traveled primarily in one direction, worsening my nervousness.


    My primary concern is with the intent of these winding paths, not aiming to confuse, merely to slow progress. The worry is that triggering the trap will initiate something coming after us, making the slower progress matter more. For now, though, we must focus on avoiding the pressure plates. A hissing click comes from the pressure plate behind the one I stepped over. Bracing for an impact that will disprove my theory, I feel only a cold dread creep in.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t something spose to happen?¡± Gleb whispers.


    ¡°Whatever happened should be catching up soon,¡± I mumble.


    The pressure plate I had avoided is no longer responsive to pressure. How can I plan without the essential factors? What is most important? Speed. Cursing, I call over the group, sputtering orders.


    ¡°Each turn has been the same, two dead ends and one pathway that leads on. We will move to each turn and take all three turns. If you come to a dead end, come back, mark the hallway, and move down the next unmarked one. I will be playing rear guard, ensuring no one is left behind. If I am waiting at your intersection, you won''t need to mark dead ends. Any questions.¡±


    ¡°We got it.¡± The chief assures.


    ¡°Let''s move.¡±


    We run for the next turn, fleeing an unknown threat. Something about having an enemy without a face seeps into my confidence. The bane to my pinnacle defense of preparedness. It nips at my heel, egging me on with our echoing steps. We come to the next set of turns, splitting up as I stay in the intersection. We work through the corridors in a coordinated formation. Coming to the third set of turns, I find both dead ends are already marked. I am running with the chief, the mightiest but not the fastest of his people.


    The next few turns start to form a pattern. As we catch up to a few, there will be an unmarked passageway, and we will wait as the chief catches their breath in these welcome instances. These moments also reveal that I have been slacking on my physical training. Soon enough, we are running again to the next turn, the next decision.


    We finally spot our advisory while running between intersections. It is a wisp of something, only glimpsing it as it fools with the dim light. A gas of some kind, strands of smoke stretch out to grasp us. How do you fight gas? I call out the danger as we pick up our pace. The point of this plan is that when the threat reaches us, whoever it catches will be less affected by the deterrence of the maze.


    The chief starts falling behind, and I help them by supporting their side. After they become completely exhausted, I haul them up. Carrying the broad fellow over my shoulder slows our movement. The gas is gaining at this speed, worsening as we check turns for markings. I dig deep into myself and find something I hadn¡¯t felt cramped into that small campus. My second wind, a glorious triumph of relief, pours into my body, forging my will as I shoulder my burden and pick up my fucking knees.


    We finally come to the door with the rest of our comrades, all cheering as they see us in the distance. Now, they are calling in fear and sadness. I can''t distinguish what is said, but I notice we are one member short, hearing the name Gleb. I think back to our last turn, where one of the marks denoting the right corridor is difficult to see. We had to touch the wall to make sure it was there.


    ¡°Can you make it the rest of the way?¡± I ask, setting the chief down.


    ¡°Do you have a death wish? Gleb is a good friend, but he knew-¡± The chief starts as I take his dissuading as assurances and dash at the smoke.


    Without the Chief, I fly, hardly touching the ground, with a large handful of charcoal in my mouth. Some reinforcement allows me to activate the charcoal with heat. I close my nostrils entirely and create a screen in my throat so I don''t choke. Breathing is more challenging, but it cancels out any adverse effects of the gas.


    Reaching the postulated turn, I take it quickly, scraping against the confines of time that entrap me. Hearing a retching cough as I scan my surroundings; the smoke obscures detail. The source, Gleb, huddles in the dead end, covering their mouth as they retch. I grab them and throw them over my shoulder, earning myself several kicks and punches. I can''t speak to stop the flailing person, resigning to confine them as much as possible. A stray blow slips through every few seconds.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I am running on memory, and the way is smoke. Gleb is starting to weaken, becoming unconscious from lack of oxygen, dying from poison, or both. Sweat drenches my every inch, clothes stick and detach with each stride. The edge of my ability comes as I sprint toward the cliff. The next step on the ground will crumple my entire body. Then it''s over, the smoke is gone, and I finally collapse.


    There''s still work to do. I wave off the others, telling them to guard. Looking at Gleb, their breaths are frayed things, winding out with wisps of smoke. If we weren''t in the test, there would be nothing I could do to help them. Here, though, I have more power. I change my eyes to see inside him, feeling my creation magic running low. Smoke rests in their lungs, depriving and destroying them. A poison in the blood, a paralytic that is shutting down the organ function. Removing the smoke and poison is the first step, and it takes the rest of my creation magic, leaving a wrecked body in its wake.


    Frantically considering options, most magics have a healing capacity, but only one can recreate damaged tissue. There isn¡¯t any more magic, and I can¡¯t solder everything shut. I must destroy and recreate the damaged tissue, but my creation magic is empty. But that is in the world. Here, things aren¡¯t physical. Then, a piece of the story the keeper told me comes into my mind. They have to give a portion of their population. These aren¡¯t creatures; these are souls. I pour soul magic into repairing the bronchi and bronchus, using death magic to restart the organs. Gasping from Gleb proves the success, and with that, I lay on the cold stone floor, finally spitting out the soot.


    ¡°Strange sight to find, even in this pit,¡± A delicate voice snickers.


    ¡°How so?¡± I gurgle, rolling to a sitting position, and the rest slip deeper into their guard.


    ¡°A haimaphrodite saving sub-kin.¡±


    ¡°Stupid lady doesn¡¯t know our kind,¡± Gleb giggles.


    ¡°Do you know her?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No?¡± Gleb asks confusedly.


    ¡°Then how do you know they are she?¡±


    ¡°Are you stupid, Haimen?¡± The chief asks.


    ¡°Let¡¯s circle back-¡± I mumble to the chief, rubbing the soreness from my temples.


    ¡°It seems you have betrayed your species and thrown in with this despicable lot.¡±


    ¡°Why do you harbor such hatred? And what is the goal of this room?¡±


    ¡°You walk with corruption and ask of my seething. Your attitude is offense.¡± The last bark punctuates with the sound of metal scrapping a sheath.


    ¡°I do not wish to fight you. We can come to an understanding.¡± I coo, unsheathing my rapiers in turn.


    ¡°Then you will hate the goal of this room: kill me.¡± The voice soothes with a tinge of something I can''t place, almost frantic but not quite.


    I stand beside my friends, closing our flanks with the wall at our backs, forming a half circle. The light in this room is dim, precluding the view of anything outside of a few meters. The Goble-kin pull torches from my pack and toss them around us to provide visibility. The eyes of my group are needles stabbing at the stranger. I will shape this outcome, truly a test of my merits and morals. But can I kill someone? I know that, morally, all life is equal, but there is an unnerving feeling when it comes to killing someone who has a consciousness similar to my own. If I know no other way, I must. Necessity is the justifier of all evil.


    ¡°We have other options,¡± I plead for the final time.


    ¡°I do not,¡± whispers a voice to my left.


    Hearing this, I pull back, and a glint of metal slices in from that direction. Putting up my guard stance and focusing on my senses readies me for the lethal stakes. Welcome to a bad situation, with no creation magic and a body at the edge of ragged. Coal still sticks to the inside of my mouth, my legs tremble, and my ends drip with sweat. Using a small amount of soul magic, I rejuvenate my body slightly, doing the same to each of my friends.


    The attacks make Shannai look slow. They probe each link of our chain, finding only solid resolve to meet their steel. Gems light our assailant, casting the details of a small figure drenched in a black robe. Their movements are concise and powerful. Only our numbers and superior position allow us to maintain an advantage. With each jab, their speed steadily increases.


    ¡°Do not attack, just defend. Attacking will get you killed,¡± I call.


    ¡°So you see through me then? I¡¯ll change it up.¡±


    With that, they hone in on me; a single sword is enough to push back both of my rapiers. Their robes billow in a way that connects them to the darkness. My defenses barely retain with the help of those around me. The disadvantage to our superior position is my inability to access the most useful tool of a rapier duelist: movement. Standing still forces me to change the trajectory of their blade as I shift the rest of the way.


    ¡°You can not win if you don''t attack.¡±


    ¡°Who said I wasn¡¯t going to attack?¡± I huff as my parry gives me the slightest opening.


    Pointing one of my rapiers at their chest, I unleash my elemental magic directly at them. They avoid most of the hit, but it still hits, Throwing them back into the darkness. My mental magic forms a command word, and I shout my fury. Doing this has an unexpected effect as I brush against pure insanity. This person has spent too much time alone with nothing but hate, corrupting every aspect of them. There is a whiplash as my mind retreats.


    ¡°I am so sorry. Your time here must be torture,¡± I relent as a tear trickles down my cheek.


    ¡°Do not pity me!¡± They shout with something I can now place: madness.


    A barrage of attacks for me alone, strikes emphasize a barking laugh. How long have they been in this state? How long have they been alone? I know now that killing this person will be a release for them, but it won''t help. I will help them. I will do everything in my power to help.


    ¡°Back off, I will fight this battle,¡± I call my friends.


    ¡°Oh? Your belief so easily dashed by seeing into my mind?¡± They laugh.


    ¡°Not in the slightest. I am now more determined to help you.¡±


    ¡°To help me?¡± Their laugh streams tears down their cheeks. ¡°You will be lucky to survive this ordeal. With no overseer, you are mine to pick apart as I wish.¡±


    ¡°I will defeat you, and I will save you.¡±


    I finally let myself attack the figure. My striking forms are non-fatal. I keep my remaining soul magic in reserve. Bleeding off some time magic slows the fight, allowing me to deal with their superior reaction time, though my time magic falls away fast. Space magic gives me one teleportation within a few feet, with which I appear behind them and deal a crippling blow to their leg. The last of my destruction magic enhances the blow with a necrotic effect.


    ¡°You fool. The door will not open unless I am dead.¡± They huff, falling to a knee.


    ¡°There are¡ª always¡ª options.¡± I gasp out.


    ¡°You are too optimistic, and it will be your death.¡±


    They rise, an extension of the darkness that pervades. I have a little soul magic and am not ready to use it. My body shakes as the pressure of standing bows my head, and I heave. Cuts skim my body, where blood stains my torn robe. I raise rapier unsteadily, holding all that I love close. This form isn¡¯t my body; it is my will. My will never fails, so I will fight as long as I am alive.


    ¡°You will die.¡±


    ¡°I will, but probably not here,¡± I smile.


    I see something more than furious anger in the figure''s stance for the first time. The stout shadow bows for a moment, possibly reconsidering. The moment vanishes as they lunge, as strong as before but losing speed. I make contact at the end of my rapier, resigning to my final move, one that will break me if I am unsuccessful. I parry a blow, and instead of pinning a shoulder, my rapier pierces straight into their chest.


    The shadow stutters in place a bit, shaking to stay upright. They face me, and I see beneath the flowing cowell. An x-shaped scar takes up most of the soft face, both eyes forced shut by the wound. The rest of their features are a delicate collection of proportional accouterments. A knowing smile adorns the visage.


    ¡°Your choice is made.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡±


    I pull my rapier, rushing forward, catching the person before they collide with the ground. The hole is in their heart, so I flood it with the rest of my soul magic and the small amount of creation magic that has regenerated. Moments pass, and nothing happens. I repaired critical damage from the fight with the last of my defenses, but they remain still. Checking them, I can feel no pulse¡ª But I can¡¯t give up. I flood the being with even more of my magic. Pushing my body past depletion does nothing to affect theirs. Their lifeless face is calmly unaltered as the red trickles out of their lips.


    ¡°Are they dead?¡± The chief asks.


    ¡°They are...¡±


    ¡°What will you do now?¡± The keeper asks.


    ¡°I do not know.¡± I consider, staring at my victim.


    ¡°Did you pass this floor?¡± The chief asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Check the door,¡± I ask, finding it did indeed open.


    I am sitting on the floor staring at the body, and then I am not. I am floating in darkness. The viscous mire sticks to me, perforating the pretense that had previously contained my apathy. Now, the walls fall and expose a piece of me.


    ¡°You are a strange case,¡± an amused voice comments.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± I ask, seeing a yellow light that corresponds with the voice.


    ¡°You have not moved. We are communicating with your mind.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And we are?¡±


    ¡°We are the labyrinth.¡±


    ¡°How does that work? Soul magic, but how exactly?¡±


    ¡°You are presumptuous. We do not divulge the workings of our labyrinth, though there is something we give you.¡±


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°It depends on what you want. Your success has permitted me to offer you a boon.¡±


    ¡°What is the nature of this boon?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. The few who have won this have asked for some kind of weapon or other device, power, wealth, the usual.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I thought¡ª Can I help the person on the fifth floor if I can take the soul with me to find some repair.¡±


    ¡°We cannot do that.¡±


    ¡°Can you think of a better way to help them?¡±


    ¡°We can not.¡±


    "A way to come back. Could I receive that? A way to come back. There are more floors, right?"


    ¡°It is possible for us.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, I have to check with my comrades.¡±


    ¡°The gobble-kin?¡±


    ¡°Correct, they made this possible. I can¡¯t take the reward without even talking to them.¡±


    ¡°You are a strange one. Okay. Once you are ready, we will pull you into your own body. We will know your decision when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°Thank you... labyrinth.¡± I thank.


    ¡°Thank you, contestant. You have done something few have had the will to do.¡±


    ¡°Are you up?¡± The chief frets, smacking my face.


    ¡°I am now.¡± I curse, cradling the offended cheek.


    ¡°You are talking in your sleep.¡±


    ¡°Thanks? I spoke to the maze, and they offered me a prize for completing the trial.¡±


    ¡°What did you choose?¡± Gleb asks.


    ¡°I am hoping to be able to help this person unless you want to use the reward for something else?¡±


    ¡°Us?¡± They question.


    ¡°Yes, you all are integral to completing this task. It is only fair that you have a say in what is received.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t care for tokens. So you can take the reward.¡± The chief laughs with a smile on their face.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± The keeper seconds.


    ¡°You can give us one of those pointy swords,¡± Gleb adds.


    ¡°Gleb,¡± The chief scolds.


    ¡°It is fine, and these are mental recreations. Your tribe can have both.¡± I agree, offering the blades.


    ¡°What a treasure to receive.¡± The chief exclaims, taking both.


    ¡°Make sure to share.¡± I scold.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how long until I return.¡± I relate, handing over the rest of my belongings.


    ¡°We will hold the fort. Come back and see. The goble-kin will rule this maze,¡± the chief calls.


    ¡°I thank you for your help. Goodbye, my friends.¡± I thank as my consciousness shifts out of the crystal.

 Chapter 37

    Waking from the test, I see only Shannahi''s joyous face staring down. The world I exit feels make-believe, a place only in my mind. Wondering at the difference tosses me down a rabbit hole of superposition. Either way, accomplishing this is an accomplishment. With it, we can cross beyond the Wall better prepared. For Shannai and I, this means achieving our dreams.


    ¡°Surprised you eked that out,¡± Shannahi humbles.


    ¡°How do you know how close I was? For all you know, I didn''t even break a sweat,¡± I re-assert.


    ¡°You convulsed a lot, thought you might die right on the table,¡± She convinces.


    ¡°Geez, that¡¯s damning,¡± I agree.


    ¡°Yep, ready for our midnight runaway?¡±


    ¡°Are they going to send people after us?¡±


    ¡°How does that still surprise you?¡±


    ¡°I imagined stuff would die down once I leave the capital. Also, there is a big difference between some thugs with grudges and a Sheik-sent hunting party.¡±


    ¡°Two noble families,¡± She corrects.


    ¡°Yeah... Before we go, there is one thing we should resolve.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± She asks after a pause.


    ¡°I need to look inside your brain.¡±


    ¡°Inside my brain?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°If it is the only way.¡± She relents, reaching out a hand.


    I lift my sword to meet her hand. Discomfort is one of the many feelings flowing through the connection as it snaps into place. A tendril of mental magic searches out as I doubt the successfulness of my half-assed plan. I become aware of a presence, another mind that stays at the edge. Delving into her with limited practice is cautiously approached. What will be the most prudent thing to look into? The more I look, the hazier it is, so one thing that will prove the rest. I must look for her sister, the desire to find her, finding the letter? Fuck for all.


    Little resistance meets my advance, slipping me into her mind but not profoundly. I project that same desire in myself, seeking out an ally.


    The following two seconds are eternity. I plunge in, possibly soul-deep, falling too fast to be sure. Immediate panic surges within us, deepening the sympathetic connection. Desperate anger slaps my head, only one portion of which I make any sense of¡ª Idiot.


    ¡°Wake now, little one, or you¡¯ll miss all the excitement.¡±


    ¡°Did she leave!¡± the little lump under the silk and feathers shouts.


    "Not yet; you have time. Let''s present a picturesque little sibling to say farewells to." Nuddy fusses from the washtub on the other side of my room.


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    ¡°Slowpoke!¡± The child cries, running from the room in their most comfortable nighties.


    Their zoom down the east wing reaches the stairs in record time. Hollers of laughter roll off the vast rafters as the struggle rages. Their mother says, ¡®It is impractical,¡¯ so they can¡¯t use the enormous dining halls, which means the target is sipping tea on the other side of the little one.


    The runaway is a tremendous person with a hard body compared to their father''s, but her hugs are okay. Upon embrace, she tosses her brown hair, which has the same curlyness as the little one, making a nest of curls. She''s dressed for the road with a large black cloak that adds to her largeness. The abrupt entrance stirred her before she slipped into a familiar smile and set down her pretty green cup.


    ¡°There is my wild sibling,¡± she greets.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave, I will miss you.¡±


    "You know I have to leave. Everyone has to pay time at the Wall, little one," stupid sister argues.


    ¡°Mom can get you out of it,¡± the surrounding embrace smells of lilac, cotton, and the earl gray.


    ¡°I know it is hard to say goodbye, but we will see each other again. Two years is not long; before you know it, I will be back.¡±


    ¡°I will miss you.¡± Shannai cries as Nuddy finally reaches the door.


    ¡°Come now¡ª little one, there will be time¡ª for crying later. You can not run around the manor in that state,¡± Nuddy fusses, pulling them from safety.


    Stupid Nuddy removes them to get dressed and bathe. Instead of spending their time with a soon-to-be-gone sister, she leaves, and the little one is now alone. How she loathes adherence to propriety as if such outdated customs will gild a family name in shining shit; maddening.


    Forty-six days remain before my sister returns from the Wall. Each day tires her more than the last. Without her to lean on, I have become the single symbol for the future of our branch. I have no one to confide in. I have no one. My mother is no longer mine; she is the Speaker, raising the standard I must adhere to. Not that any of my ''friends'' will let a slip pass them by.


    A carriage in the distance distracts Shannai from her painting on the veranda, a garden trapped in oil. Guests in the off-season are uncommon, marking the carriage as noteworthy. The imperial mark on the side starts her across to the stairs. Could this be someone calling for the Speaker? The person driving is in formal military wear. Jumping to conclusions, this might be her sister coming home early. Maybe her moth¡ª the Speaker has finally heard her pleas and done something.


    The veranda has a walkway that connects to the front door. My sandals clack as they impact the marble. A tilting compels me forward, but nothing compares to how fast my mind rushes through possibilities. Most are of a sister stepping out of that carriage. Hopes smother under a familiar practicality as I round the corner, seeing the front door. The carriage is still a ways off, so I slam the knocker on the door.


    ¡°Welcome-. Oh, Shannahi. Why are you knocking?¡± Gefrez asks as they promptly answer the door.


    ¡°Could you please get my parents? There is a carriage coming with the imperial seal.¡±


    ¡°Right away,¡± they obey promptly.


    Shannai¡¯s parents reach the door as the carriage enters the driveway. Her mother takes a sharp breath upon seeing the carriage. The driver steps off, opening the door to reveal a general, General Grev¡¯Haim, if I''m not mistaken. What are they doing here? They hold a folded flag, casting sorrow with a downward look. I can hear Shannai¡¯s heart pound in her ears as their wingtips hit the ground. Heat gushes in her throat, welling into a ball and stopping her breath. They are talking, but none of the words remain in this remnant. Her mind forgot the lies.


    "Shannai!" The Speaker yells.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Shannai drawls, trying to hide the slip she had noticed.


    Shannai has more hair, which she¡¯d done up in a tight bun.


    ¡°You have a chance here to be my right hand, a chance to fulfill this family''s dreams. You could be at my side, and we would control the empire together. You will see in the coming years that there is no choice for you. The path I have set is not something you can refuse.¡±


    ¡°I know, I am apprehensive. Spying on people isn¡¯t something that comes naturally.¡±


    ¡°You are to be respectable, not some pleb running about. You will do as I say, attend these functions, and keep to the schedule Nuddy has set for you. That is all I need from you.¡±


    ¡°His name is Pear.¡±


    "If you need a name for him, call him a pleb. Aside from that, he is a nuddy. Your Nuddy. I would sooner call him a walking bag."


    ¡°Mother, he is standing right here.¡±


    ¡°This is what I am talking about, Shannai. You must present a conduct equal to the role you wish to inhabit. And you must call me Speaker.¡±


    ¡°How well did that work for Shari?¡±


    ¡°I am not evil Shannai. And I want what is best for you above everything.¡±


    ¡°How hard you must hurt.¡±


    The Houses of nobility are hard to enter, especially a speaker''s office. But you have a chance if you are one of the handful of spatial mages in the empire. The piece of paper that will change everything is here. She searches endlessly for two years to find the last hope in this world. Today, She will receive what has eluded her since that day: confirmation. The Sage House deals with the bureaucracy of the Wall and provides for the people. Breaking nearly sixty laws to get here, but no one will find her.


    In an unremarkable top left drawer of the Speaker''s desk, Shannai uncovers the missing piece of her life. The lock is simple to pick, and space magic allows her to go right through the rune. The single sheet of paper is a report from three weeks before the worst day of her life. It contains several unimportant things, such as logistics and other minutiae. The line of interest is at the bottom, a coded message that reads: Your daughter has escaped Grev¡¯Haim.


    With this, she finally sees past grief, finally sees past all of the bullshit on a silver spoon, and finally sees a future. Her sister is alive, or at least she didn''t die at that damn Wall. She''s somewhere outside, either in the waste or another empire. Her fate is forged in five words.

 Chapter 38

    I am back in my own body, releasing the grip on my rapier. Shannai collapses in a heap, breathing heavily. Awaking from her memories gives an out-of-place feeling to my own body. I hadn¡¯t seen it, and it was¡ª the pain and anger in those moments were as vivid as the hands at the end of my arms. My fingers flex while I mull over the similarities between us. I couldn''t imagine what it''s like to know the person I lost, to have them as a part of my life before. My mother was always gone, so I never knew what I had lost. I thought the grass was greener, but maybe her lawn is as shitty as mine.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn''t expect that to happen.¡± I apologize.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I agreed to do it.¡±


    ¡°Were you there with me?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I believe you, and I¡¯m sorry I doubted you.¡± I apologize again.


    ¡°It is fine. Let¡¯s get going. Our day has only started,¡± She gruffs.


    ¡°I¡¯m right behind you. What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°We will book a false trail to Choux, known for chocolate production. From there, we will walk while teleporting as much as possible to confuse anyone tracking us. It will be a day or so before we have any pursuers,¡± she explains as we walk.


    Our trip to the gate is a quiet affair. Several times, I thought of saying something more, yet nothing sounded appropriate. Thinking of our similarities should lead me to an acceptable salve for this wound. Nothing comes. The carriage stalls are by the southern gate, where our reasonably priced mid-range awaits.


    ¡°Hello.¡± I greet the attendant, a younger blonde person.


    ¡°I, Who ya be?¡±


    ¡°I am Vesh¡¯dan, and this is Shannai Sage. We wish to rent a carriage to take us to Choux Village.¡±


    ¡°A sage? Why here? If¡¯n you don''t mind sr.¡±


    ¡°Mine is currently being fixed. All those crap backstreets.¡±


    ¡°Been der. It¡¯ll be a silver piece for a ride, food-n-water included.¡±


    ¡°That is reasonable,¡± I comment, handing the pieces over.


    ¡°It¡¯s da¡¯ green one. We¡¯n head out whenever you''re ready.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Jumping onto the green carriage produces a noise that worries Shannai. Its paint is scraping away in places, giving the whole thing a faded look. I sit beside her, and the driver sets off. I try to squash it with another apology.


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t meant to go so deep.¡± I offer.


    ¡°I¡¯m not upset with you. That is a hard part of my life. To have someone else see that depth is a little¡ª intrusive.¡±


    ¡°I understand. I¡¯ll give you some time. But now would be the best time to explain this, if you don¡¯t mind listening?¡±


    ¡°Go for it.¡±


    "The first is a wireless relay, which works by pressing the rune on the center of the shell. You can talk into this prototype, but I haven''t got the transference runes right. They suck up so much power that they fry any reasonably sized ston-¡±


    ¡°That is great, but the basics will suffice.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. You know the codes?¡±


    ¡°I do sign each message with our nicknames?¡±


    ¡°Smart. Okay, these are bombs. There are three kinds: the gray one produces smoke, the green one is powdered poison for incapacitation, and the black one has explosives. They all have a blast radius of ten feet, and the first two will last one minute with moderate wind speed. This last one is one of my most ingenious yet so simple and revolu-¡±


    ¡°Vesh,¡± She scolds.


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    ¡°Yes, it is a water container with infusion runes in the gems on the front here. Essentially, it infuses mana into water.¡±


    ¡°Are you fucking with me?¡± She disbelieves.


    ¡°I know, right? It is simple: the water is ready to accept the mana with almost no permeation loss, and all but one rune is entirely passive. You just fill it and make sure the gem is dimly lit, indicating an appropriate amount of ambient mana is present. Pressing the gem will start the infusion, which will be complete in a few hours. You must keep it closed for the process. If the seal breaks, you will have to start from scratch.¡±


    We travel in the carriage for half the day until the southern crossroads signal to depart. We are in place, prompting Shannai to grab my hand, and we appear far from the road by a copse of trees. The trundling trot of the wheels is louder from the outside. We stay still, letting our oblivious driver drop out of sight before we start.


    This road is one of the three that goes directly to the Wall, easing our access for the price of stealth. Though, we don''t plan on traveling on the road. We walk a hundred meters off, following from a parallel trajectory. Shannai will take my hand every few hours and teleport us about two hundred meters ahead on the other side of the road.


    The first few days of travel are silent, broken only by nature''s continuous babbling in the background. I can think of nothing to lighten the mood. Eventually, she warms into a more amicable mentality as we camp for the third night.


    Camp is little more than some of the pokey brush loosely assembled around a central area with our blankets. Fire is too risky because the hunters following us will notice it. The winter winds are coming in, but the south rarely gets bad ones. It is in one of those chilly afternoons that Shannai finally slips from her funk.


    ¡°It is a lot to take in. You saw everything. When I was little, I thought my family was all I had, especially my sister. She is the only one that made me feel good about being myself. Losing that, losing her¡­¡± She almost whispers, lying in the darkness cast by the sky.


    ¡°I can¡¯t even imagine.¡±


    ¡°You are always seen?¡±


    ¡°Not always, but I had no active force oppressing me. It''s more of a misinterpreted glance than a full denial of who I am.¡±


    ¡°That must have been nice.¡±


    ¡°It just was, I don''t know anything else. In retrospect, it makes me feel like my footing is solid. But at the core of it, I don¡¯t know who my father was.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense and sounds similar.¡±


    ¡°There are lots of environments to see.¡±


    "I may find something like that. Not the bad bits but the stillness."


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you can do anything you want.¡±


    ¡°I accept your apology, Vesh.¡±


    ¡°Thanks Shan.¡±


    Our travels regain their joviality after that night as the shadow cast by our past fades in the distance. The conversation meanders easier, with a glint of happiness now and then. The prairies intersperse with forests south of the capital and are foreign in fauna and flora. It is different from the willows, especially the trees. On our trip down, I saw a few green ones, but the first view of a southern forest halted my breath. Standing on the top of a ridge, I can see for miles. Pines stand hundreds of meters tall, yet the perspective dwarfs them into blades of grass, dancing with the wind.


    Wildlife is scarce, and they are likely hearing us coming from a while off. I am unaccustomed to traveling through this terrain and can¡¯t sneak up. I still see several types of small animals bustling, also about six feet of snake before it slithers into the foliage; terrifying. We set camp in the trees, securing ourselves with rope before dozing in the sea of green.


    We only catch a hint of our trackers a week into our travel while doubling back to make some decoy trails. A carriage roaring down the road alerts us to the people. We teleport into a tree, giving us a good vantage of the road while making it harder to spot us. I see the carriage first, an average one surrounded by soldiers wearing the Sage house seal.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Shannai hisses.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Those are house trackers, the best in the empire.¡±


    ¡°Do you know their tactics?¡±


    ¡°Not all of them, but I know they have a type of mental magic that lets them follow the signature of a type of magic.¡±


    ¡°Oh shit.¡±


    ¡°My brilliant teleportation plan has led them straight to us.¡±


    ¡°Why didn''t we plan for this?¡±


    ¡°I thought they were still doing training in the Catskill Mountains. And we were expecting someone to track us, just not them.¡±


    ¡°And they weren¡¯t?¡±


    "This isn''t good. We have¡ª Where we are going will be easy to guess. The road only leads to two places. They will also know what we plan to do, if not how, at least our intentions."


    ¡°How bad?¡±


    "We have to rethink the entire plan, so bad. Assuming the tracker can sniff out any magic for at least a day after the casting. Depending on the scale, they can pick it up for weeks after. The pendant you gave me masks aura, but it can''t cover the magic in the air I displace. I''m unsure what we can do to throw them off our trail, though."


    ¡°So pretty bad. Maybe we can deter pursuit?¡±


    ¡°Worse plan than running. The specialists in this group will be ideal to combat and chase us.¡±


    ¡°Combat isn¡¯t my thing. Any ideas?¡±


    ¡°Give me a minute¡­ Split up? Without the burden of teleporting you, I can jump much faster and further. I know you¡¯re fast, but can you keep up with me?¡± Shan offers.


    ¡°I can try to keep up. What pace are we talking about?¡±


    "Uhmm.. Sustainably? A six-minute kilometer for twenty hours.


    ¡°Two hundred Kilometers a day? That will cut our remaining travel time in half.¡±


    ¡°Best part. That cart can move faster than us and for longer, but it must follow the road. If I push it, I can do two hundred eighty kilometers daily.¡±


    ¡°What if they can keep up on foot?¡±


    ¡°Chances are it will be a select few who can. They will likely detach from the rest and pressure whichever of us is the higher-value target or the easiest to take. After that, they will chase me or use you as bait.¡±


    ¡°You are good at this.¡±


    ¡°I am. What do you think?¡±


    "I agree with your thinking; the pace is daunting, but I can manage it. I can''t handle the group alone. If we could travel faster with me running for myself, couldn''t we stay closer together?"


    "I don''t think so. Or it isn''t the safest option. I am easier to track because I have external applications of my magic. I will receive most of their attention, and you will be harder to find. You will pass through a place I''ve marked if we are close."


    ¡°Yeah, that makes sense. So we divide and concur?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you stay on this side of the road and follow Styx down to Kesar. Stay well from the town. After that, it should be a straight shot to Jer¡¯s station post.¡±


    ¡°Sounds doable.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Be safe and careful; we will meet in a week.¡±


    ¡°It is you I am worried about. Call me back if you can''t keep up, and we can regroup.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± She laughs.

 Chapter 39

    We split up after the planning session. Shan jumps ahead of them while I have to go the long way. My goal is two hundred kilometers daily with only four hours to sleep and twenty-four hours to run, leaving two hours for personal maintenance. That requires a seven-minute kilometer to be maintained constantly.


    Breathing in the air rolling off the prairies centers my apprehension. Run until my limit before circulating magic. My pace is seven minutes, furrowing the forest as the worries of life stamp down underfoot. I could not conceal my passage at such an absurd rate, leaving my trust firmly in Shannai¡¯s plan.


    The next step requires more than the last, the months of studying in the Athenary taking their pound of flesh from my legs. I am still in shape, but I can''t compare it to the state I was in earlier this year. The pain is welcoming, embracing a time before all of this when strides were simpler. I am closer than I have ever been to the goal I have dreamt of since losing my mother. She was always gone, but I can remember the first time my father told me that my mother was gone and wouldn''t be in my life-


    The sparse forest interlacing patches of tall grass remind me of the willows and reeds I grew up with. The grass isn¡¯t quite tall enough, and the colors are all off, but the rest puts me at home. Pulling me deeper into thoughts of my mother, thoughts of her fate. Is she happy out there? Will she want to see me? My father explained her choice to stay and not come back with us. Part of me thinks there is some reason to lessen the feeling of betrayal. Part of me worries she will not care for me or even want to see me. Neither outcome will change what I have to do for myself. This revelation connects me to my mother, or at least the choices she made-


    Footfalls faintly brush my ear from behind as I jog through an animal trail. It will be a footrace, after all, a test of wills with no equal. Is it an animal or a person? I increase my pace and strain to hear the sounds. The forest is buzzing with mid-afternoon noise, blocking out all but a step here and there.


    Their footfalls have quickened and grown in resonance, taking only a moment to adapt. That¡¯s bad. Trying to shake them off several times pushes my pace to a five-minute kilometer, an unmanageable speed for long-distance running and something I can¡¯t maintain for more than a dozen miles. My speed increase only lessens the intercept time. Go faster? Hope to hold the pace? Or think of something else?


    I need a strategy to deter my will-be captors. What am I not considering? They can gauge my speed and will catch up to me. Staying on the trail makes it easier to follow while moving off of it will decrease the distance I will have to travel, but the terrain will reduce my speed.


    I am unaccustomed to the terrain but not the dangers. Research yields that the primary predators are saber-toothed wolf packs and a solitary population of Drevald. The wolves are ordinary enough to deal with, while the Drevald are the real threat. The twenty-meter-long ambushers are territorial in mannerisms, and all the many spikes on their enormous body coat in bacteria that will kill you within one day.


    I continue on the trail for another half an hour, mulling over the risks and possible alternatives. Finding no better options, I choose a route that veers away from the Styx while still in a favorable direction. Avoiding sources of water will also reduce the probability of encountering one of the deadly Drevald.


    The grass is similar to the reeds in height, only a meter shy. Unlike the reeds, thin strands wrap around my legs as I pass¡ª The sound of my pursuers stops. Visibility is sparse as I try an old trick, pulling my knife and stabbing it into an exposed root. Strangely enough, I can sense further than in the willows, even though the density of roots is visibly lower.


    Several heavy thuds are nearby, momentarily causing my knife to slip from my grip. The vibrations aren''t moving; they merely stay put. Thinking of how a twenty-meter ambush predator can hide in five-meter tall grass explains the vibrations. The giant reptiles must press their bodies to the ground, and I am sensing their heartbeats. My reluctance for the unpathed wilderness quiets, as now I can avoid the dangers. Yet even a full minute of listening detects no hint of the trackers.


    I start again at a comfortable pace, an eight-minute kilometer, while trying to better acclimate to the ground. I run until the extent of my previous scan, then refresh it. The unrelenting grass only breaks in wide furrows, possibly created by the Drevalds. Using the path will be easier but dangerous, not worth the increase in speed.


    As the hours fragment underfoot, I grow to understand this unfamiliar forest. Instead of trying to touch the ground, it''s easier to step on the grass itself. The height of the grass requires the step to start pointed straight in the air. Once contacted, you can move from heel to toe as usual. The benefit of this is limiting the strands of grass latching around your limbs. Even with this advancement and my durable traveling clothes, strands of grass will cut into my flesh as they snag.


    Sooner than I like, I have to start cycling magic. Forty percent death magic adds energy to the muscles, forty percent creation magic heals my body as it tears, and ten percent elemental regulates my body temperature, reducing strain and water loss. The first two are prohibitively expensive, so they tick every hour or so to refresh me, while the temperature regulations are economical at a constant rate. I can last another ten hours at this consumption rate as long as I have time to get some water every few hours. Springs are abundant, so I am not too worried about water.


    When my tanks falter, I drink the mana water, taking in more than I need. Yet it replenishes all my magic equally, meaning I am losing the excess. Can I equally incorporate each magic in my running? Let''s see, space? If I teleport a portion of my body within my range of motion, will my body move with it? Or will the teleported part separate from my body? Shannai said it would. That''s a bust, no teleporting punches.


    Elemental, creation, and death are easy enough. Elemental maintains its current state. Playing with amounts puts creation and death at work to decrease the strain, reducing the number of tears to heal. They work well in concert with each other. Destruction is interesting; it can decay anything, so I scan my body for any use. I determine small deposits of acid accumulating, prompting a tendril of destruction magic from the flow to break them.


    Time magic¡ªSlowing my perception of time will have little effect on my current situation. Soul magic is similarly inapplicable. Mental magic maintains my mind palace, though that doesn¡¯t take much, so a portion cycles for mental acuity. In this marathon, one slip can cost me time that I don''t have.


    Stopping to rescan the area spurs a use for my time magic. It usually takes a minute to get a full image of the surroundings, and interpreting the vibrations takes more time. Slowing my perception allows interpretation of the signals at ten times the speed.


    Hardtack and dried fruits are enough on the go, with a brief stop to refill my mana jug. In these quiet moments, I stumble across still countryside views with the sun setting behind my goal.


    I continue in the dark for a while longer, the bottom half of one moonlighting the way. I drink the rest of my infused water before bed and start another for the morning. Camp is a tree; in my meditative state, I can still see through the dense foliage to get a view of the road. With one eye open, I can manifest in the palace with a floating window that looks out into reality.


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


    The next few days blur together, grass everywhere, only broken by abandoned ambush points. One stride follows the next, thousands of steps turning into hundreds of kilometers. Strangely enough, my mind starts to waver before my body. The uninterrupted stream of consciousness taxes my cognitive functionality. I usually get six hours of sleep, so four is rough.


    I use the time to perfect my meterport, where I teleport a meter ahead. I can show Shan once we meet back up in four days if I can make it that far. Setting up my next item on the agenda, I notice a glint of moonlight rebound into the window in my palace. fuck.


    Awakening in my makeshift cocoon, I jab my knife into the tree while slowing time. Three assailants, in a v formation, are closing in a kilometer out, moving at a six-minute pace. Their movements suggest familiarity with the terrain yet not mastery. My path is clear, with a few lizards on the way. I slide down the trunk, swinging from a low branch to soften the landing. Mana water swishes in my mouth before I hit the ground.


    I am stumbling through because the planned four hours weren''t enough to soothe my mind. I got two hours, worsening my status. My arms flop at my side for the first few strides, and my legs are equally unresponsive. What is my best choice in this situation? I outran them earlier or disrupted them by going off the trail. Maybe going back will mess up their magic. Unlikely. If I changed the terrain, would that disrupt them? I imagine flying through the clouds.


    Shaking the unhelpful thought out of my head, I search for another way. If they get within a minute of me, I can delay with the gas and smoke balls, especially since the wind speed is nonexistent tonight, allowing the effects to stay present for much longer.


    Even though I will be imprisoned for life if they catch me, the group behind me doesn¡¯t deserve to be hurt, nor some Drevald. A crashing sound comes from behind. I have to move faster, or I won''t be able to get away, but how? How can I make my body faster? My current magical effects deal with reducing wear. I stop the subtle touches and let the magic of each affinity pour through my channels. I hold my jug with both hands in an attempt at constant regeneration.


    My feet dig into the soft brush of the forest, and the dewy dirt underneath presses through my toes. I forgot my shoes. Death chase aside, a race brings back memories. Ruthless people chase me, not even a half kilometer behind, but I will run. Air rushes to and from my lungs with each stride as my legs strain to dig out more and push my body forward. Each step has a tickle of something as processes burn themselves into me.


    I throw a smoke and a gas ball about ten meters apart, creating a border they must avoid. I had done my best to avoid the Drevald in my escape route, and the dispersion should also. Despite its namesake, the smoke ball affects visibility and not breathing. I lament having the altercation so close, but I have no choice.


    I tear forward for hours at an absurd pace, nearly three minutes, using my catalysts and mana water recklessly. The nutrients burning away refill as they empty, causing a whiplash between exhaustion and exhilaration. My pursuers are ever behind by a moment, running me ragged at a blistering pace. There is a hint of something at the edge of my mind. After the second hour of running, I grasped it for a second with slowed perception. A snippet of the world is revealed in a sudden jolt, lasting as long as my foot digs into the ground.


    Another hour of running gets all of the aspects right. Step, slow time, interpret, resume time, repeat. Doing it with every step is too cumbersome, so I do it every fifth. I no longer need to stop to scan, which is good as I currently can¡¯t. I can''t relieve myself or replenish my water while the noises of pursuers haunt me.


    The Wall stretches the continent from one horizon to the other. As if it is the end of the world, from here, it''s small, yet it''s a few hundred meters tall. The sky past the Wall is dimmer. There is no time for rest. Their vibrations are a little more than ten minutes away, but at least the pace has slowed to eight minutes. My magic envelope allows each problem to be addressed faster and more accurately. But there is another thing that happens. I can''t deduce it, but I know I have felt something similar, reminding me of the athenary. What is that?


    Running again, pushing my brain to stay alert, using twice as much magic as before, distracting from the sensation. How can they be this persistent? Few body-enhancing Mages can alter their mental endurance this well. Though considering I can, hiring a tracker who can will make sense. The skill also makes for intensely good hunters. My sleep-deprived mind can attest to that. They can keep up and are gaining again, which further prods me.


    Again, I consider using the Drevald and their unconsenting cooperation to delay my fate, but I can''t if there is a way out, a visible end. As a stop-gap? No. I can''t. But there must be another way out of imprisonment. While searching for an answer, I toss another smoke ball, using the diversion to change my trajectory.


    Something catches my eye as I cut across a patch of brambles, a rare choke point in this open forest. The brambles on either side of a denser grove forge a trail in the center. I see a way to keep them at bay, to ensure my freedom for one more night. Or stop my captors entirely with a decisive attack. In the desperation of my mental fatigue, I consider attacking someone with no precision. Their careless lethality is akin to those who terrorized the ball, who captured me and killed Speaker Odin¡¯Kirk, who are likely the ones chasing me. Still, I can''t.


    Passing through the choke point, I throw my first explosive ball, aiming for the thicket to the right from a fair distance. The explosion emits a fireball. The obtrusion successfully blocks the trail, forcing them to slow. Thanking the trees for their sacrifice, I dart into the thickening foliage. Bramble bushes speckle the forest, slowing me by half. Slowing does allow me to hide my trail better by stepping on the correct ground and bending around bushes.


    I consider resting securely within one of those dense bushes. A check of the surroundings shows one pursuer a kilometer out, progressing towards me. Assuming the two who aren¡¯t chasing are making camp gives me some hope. Then I sense a vibration from a kilometer in the direction I am heading, brief but significant. And again, after a second, is that a heartbeat? It''s similar to the Drevald but larger and further apart. I would move away from it, but I have little choice with the brambles. Whatever it is, I don''t think we all will pose much of a threat.


    Sweat drips down my forehead, taking a portion of my exertion as it falls from my face. The sun will be coming up in a few hours, and my chances for sleep will diminish once that happens. I need space, but I can''t outrun them. Can I outplay them? This tactic is exhausting me and putting me no closer to losing them. The only part of their ability I have yet to test is their tracking. Assuming it would be a strong suit, I opted to outlast them.


    However, keeping up is exhausting them as much as myself, so this is the optimal time to try and slip by. I need a place where I can take advantage of that, and this place is a tracker''s dream. With my objectively skilled efforts, I must lose them in this terrain. I come within a hundred meters of the creature, moving my path to skirt around them at range. I could provoke a confrontation but let the thought pass and observe its depravity. I can''t. I focus on my trek, allowing everything else to fall away as I run.


    A presence emerges before I see it, evoking a primal fear that freezes mid-stride. Eyes the size of my head stare into me. A Drevald with dark greenish scales is meters away from me. Not even a breath escapes my open mouth as I stare in awe. Their body is only visible when I look directly at them. Once your eyes are off, the distinctions become less so. If not for the eyes and presence, I wouldn¡¯t have known.


    Those vertical slits of green with yellow irises are jade in a pool of gold. There is compassion and understanding in them. Something happens, something like making a mental connection but different. My soul magic siphons away, and a piece of it goes along. I should shit myself and run, but I don¡¯t. The soul given is a soul returned, but different. What is this? Why am I so calm? Is this a predator using soul magic to eat me? Yet that is wrong; I know this creature because I am them. I''ve spent thousands of years here and thousands more in other dimensions. I''ve traveled to places and seen wonders that will break my mind so they recede. It locks away due to care for myself. I will help myself so that I can escape.


    Something snaps with a command: run, and I do. A hissing roar reverberates behind me as I speed mindlessly. I will save me¡ªmy friend will help me. Before I can contemplate my unexpected savior, I have to focus on my running again. Circulation stabilizes into place like an old bedfellow, not caring for my track as I sprint from the thicket. Screams provide the night with a rumbling, hissing monstrosity.


    My evasion takes place a few kilometers southeast at a tributary river. I cross it in an area with trees growing near the bank and run about two kilometers past the stream. Now, the real fun. I teleport into the tree above me. The usual weightlessness pitches me until I grab the tree. I don''t have enough space magic to move farther than a meter. I can replenish it and keep teleporting, but that will take too much time. So I jump from tree to tree, trying my best not to scuff up the bark or shake the branches. If they are good, they will find this, but I doubt they will guess my next move. I land in the tributary and start running northwest, nearly opposite to the direction I''ve traveled thus far.


    I exit by teleporting into a tree and get a half-kilometer by jumping before returning to the ground. I jog in the wrong direction for five hours as the sun creeps above the horizon. If they get my first double back, they will separate as they did for the scrub. The question is: which one will they send in the correct direction? If the tracker comes this way, then I''ll have done all that for an hour''s lead or so. I bought myself a considerable lead if it''s the others.


    All I can do is run, milking every drop from the seeds I¡¯d sewn by the river bed. Suffering a burn unrivaled since those long nights spent training with Jer, I uncover A place where all your fibers transfix on a single thing. In transcending that, I can push past what has always been enough.


    Step after step, nothing in the world but the tempo of my heart. Wind wades against me, now moving to my side as it sees no success restraining me. As I am wind, earth, water, and fire, so are my movements. We burn a path that rebels against everyone who has and will stand in our way.


    My last step lands at the base of an oak tree, old as the day is shit. Nestling in its roots is a cubby padded in moss. The leaves cover the early rays like willows, but only because the tree is grand. Or are those rays of a fading sun? And where was I running? An evaluation reveals that I am at the precipice of depletion sickness. Was I poisoned? What animal poisons such a warm bed? Rest will be fine. For now-

 Chapter 40

    I awake under the night sky. The shiny moons protrude amid the black of a barren expanse, recalling that sky from the maze again, its endless rows of twinkling lights surrounded by foreign fog. Those were a beauty to behold and make the lightless sky seem limp. Where have the lights gone? What happened to the beauty that used to fill the sky? Or was that a dream?


    The moss is less soft in the morning, and my mouth is dry. Vibrations need scanning once the kinks work out. I don''t sense anyone near. Wait¡ª Something appears in flashes. They aren''t jumping, they''re teleporting. I grab my repeater from the bag, and the glow gem tells me another is near. The returning glow after my second attempt bathes me in relief. If a teleporter were after me, I''d be screwed.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be ahead of me,¡± Shan pants as she drinks from the¡ª enchanted decanter?¡ª Maybe.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± I cough, reeling from my dry throat and draining both water containers.


    ¡°Slow down, bud, you might puke,¡± she frets, patting my back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be alright, they were right on my tail¡­ a bit ago. What day is it?


    ¡°It¡¯s the nineteenth of Wall. ¡°


    "Hmm. It was a couple of days ago.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t heard a peep from them myself. With the mana water, it was a leisurely pace.¡±


    ¡°That sounds delightful,¡± I groan.


    ¡°So, did you blackout?¡±


    ¡°A bit.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a good sign.¡±


    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t go mad.¡±


    ¡°We should get moving.¡±


    ¡°Water first.¡±


    ¡°We can get it from this moss.¡± I postulate, gesturing to the large heaps on the ancient tree.


    ¡°Strange that my gem is already glowing again.¡±


    ¡°I think it is the tree,¡± I offer.


    ¡°Nexus stuff like that is all gibberish.¡±


    ¡°Like you can¡¯t grasp the underlying, or you disagree.¡±


    ¡°The latter, give me some respect. The tree is a product, not the power source.¡±


    ¡°The speakers are keeping a lot suppressed.¡±


    ¡°Why, though? Why halt magical advancement? How do you keep people from stumbling on it naturally?¡±


    ¡°Maybe to stay in power? Or keep the peace? I''m unsure why, but I¡¯ve been looking into the how.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    "Death magic is the most crucial part of developing amalgamations. With it, formations and everything else related to imbuing are possible. They monopolize advancement by controlling the information surrounding that and making experimentation a crime. Some covens know a little and teach others, which is why certain things like glow gems are prevalent."


    ¡°Still, it has to be possible.¡±


    ¡°Not even a death mage can create rune formations. They have a tiny piece; sure, they can cobble something together, but without understanding the fundamentals, it is dangerous.¡±


    "You are strange. It is as simple as wealth. Are the people chasing us any good?"


    ¡°I think I fooled them with a double back.¡±


    ¡°Nice? I know what that is, and care.¡±


    ¡°Well, you-¡±


    ¡°We should probably head out,¡± She interrupts before disappearing.


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± I feign.


    Shan and I are within patrol territory, about half a day from the Wall, so we are far from comfortable. She will have to start being on guard, as her trip was effortless up until now, an absolute cakewalk. The thought of cake grumbles my stomach with a rumble, angry at all the rations. A vanilla cake with no frosting, possibly some unsweetened almond milk to drink, but ice cold, that''s the first thing I''ll have in the willows when I return one day.


    ¡°Dear creation, do you ever pay attention.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± I grumble, stirring from my cake dreams.


    ¡°If I were an enemy, I could have killed you,¡± she scolds, setting the pace.


    ¡°I was busy thinking about something delicious.¡±


    ¡°Knowing you, probably so bland I can''t even guess it.¡±


    ¡°I prefer understated.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, I checked in the direction you came from. The trackers are about a day back at their pace. A few appear injured; did you attack them?¡± She accuses.


    ¡°In a way, I am responsible for the harm. I¡¯ll have to meditate on how that makes me feel later.¡±


    ¡°They are chasing you, probably going to throw you in a cell for life. The mines are awful.¡±


    ¡°If I was faster, I could have outrun them; as I was, I barely got past. Wait, where did you find them exactly?¡±


    ¡°They are following a Styx inlet about a day southeast of here.¡±


    ¡°Yes! They don¡¯t have our trail.¡± I laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯re double back?¡±


    ¡°The secret is the triple back.¡±


    ¡°Plain with treats and devious with other things.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I bow, stumbling the jog.


    ¡°That means?¡±


    ¡°They likely won''t know which relay we will be hitting.¡±


    ¡°Makes it easier.¡±


    ¡°Yes. We will get some uniforms from this station. From there, we should be able to pick up a signal from Jer.¡±


    ¡°Works for me. Do we know which station?¡±


    ¡°He has to be in one of these three.¡±


    We do so with little fuss, making good time while easily avoiding the patrols. These groups incorporate shouting senior cadets and recruits on shit duty. The terrain approaching the Wall from this side is dense with foliage, keeping us well hidden. In no time, we are at the base. Shan takes the repeater with a sincere grin. While I watch the perimeter, wondering how long it will take, she reappears as a Penntry runner, dark green linen with brown underneath, her curly hair tied up in a bun.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Jerduan is just up there. Where are we ending up?¡±


    ¡°We will go to the nearest relay. Probably that one.¡±


    ¡°Why does it sound like you¡¯re deciding that now?¡±


    ¡°Because I am.¡±


    ¡°This better be thought out. I¡¯m putting a lot of faith in you here.¡±


    ¡°The feeling is mutual-¡± The connection light on the relay cuts off my comment.


    ¡°Starting to feel like a carriage.¡±


    "I can go in there and do it, but I fear I won''t be as successful. If you don''t mind running with the whole damn Wall chasing us, I guess it can work out."


    ¡°Cool it, I¡¯m just saying do not make a habit of it.¡±


    ¡°My point is that no one-'''' I begin, getting quite a bit out before she disappears. ¡°I''m just some rune buster then, I guess,¡± I mutter.


    Waiting around for Jer gives me time to examine my plan step by step. After this, we will make our way to the relay, from which we will reach our exit point. Each tower amplifies the magical boundary protecting the Wall. The base of these can be the only place for what we need: the source of the runes and mana for the Wall. However, what that formation looks like is a well-hidden secret that I had no success ferreting out.


    In the basement, I will get my first look at the challenge. It isn¡¯t a typical way through, or at least all the instances I found were with naturally occurring loopholes. The task is daunting. I will probably be familiar with the pieces, but this structure is beyond me. Those who built the very ground I now stand on forged it. Inadequacy creeps under my skin¡ª But I can do this.


    Shan appears with Jer, whose momentary happiness is interrupted by hurls bending him at the waist. Shan disappears and reappears twice more, bringing along two more people. Strangely, Jer is still smiling as vomit drips from his chin. Shan teleports away, presumably to avoid the acrid stomach contents. He wipes his chin as he continues to smile at me. I then inspect the others who are in a similar state. Gale and Lisen hunch at Jer¡¯s side.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± I ask, kicking dirt over the puddle.


    ¡°That teleportation is something else, felt like falling.¡±


    ¡°We should get moving,¡± Shan adds from a spot upwind, her sage perfume battling for supremacy with the ick.


    ¡°She is right that they¡¯ll notice I¡¯m gone soon,¡± Gale adds.


    ¡°Speaking of which?¡± I round, looking at Jer.


    ¡°Oh? We have to notify each other of additions to the plan now?¡±


    ¡°I get your point, but it isn¡¯t the same.¡±


    ¡°We are exposed here, and we are not in a place to have a friendly gab session,¡± Shannai orders.


    ¡°Yeah, we will have to run there,¡± I confirm as I start into a practiced jog.


    ¡°Have I gotten faster?¡± Jer laughs from slightly ahead of me.


    ¡°I just finished running here from the capital,¡± I reassure.


    ¡°Rough. It took us a month to get down here,¡± Jer sets up.


    ¡°Hardly. Did it in nine days.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s nuts.¡± Jer feigns.


    ¡°It is! It¡¯s awe-inspiring.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you tell I''m impressed?¡±


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± I bark with a laugh.


    We mess around like this our entire way to the relay. It''s nice to have him back. However, the tone is more serious. Before, this was a dream: to come here and commit the ultimate act of defiance. Now we gather at the oppressive barrier, insurmountable in its isolation. Yet, we have a plan, resources, and a chance. Our one fighting chance awaits.


    ¡°You hadn¡¯t planned on us coming?¡± Lisen asks.


    ¡°Vesh''s just being an ass,¡± Gale helps.


    ¡°I was, I am sorry. The more the merrier,¡± I attempt reconciliation.


    ¡°I honestly think Jer should have mentioned it, though,¡± Lisen adds.


    ¡°Hey.¡± Jer grunts.


    ¡°Agreed.¡±


    ¡°Shannai, you too?¡± Jer deadpans.


    ¡°You¡¯re an inconsiderate ox,¡± Gale zoomorphizes.


    ¡°An ox?¡± I question.


    ¡°Those horned ones, right?¡± Lisen describes.


    ¡°Magnificent sounding creatures.¡± Jer attempts.


    ¡°Do we have the map sketched out?¡± I rebuff.


    ¡°Here you are,¡± Gale answers, gesturing to her pack.


    ¡°Thank you, Gale. No doubt Jer pawned this off on you, too,¡± Shan guesses.


    ¡°All hideously unseemly attacks on my character must end; I won''t stand for it,¡± Jer announces.


    ¡°And what do you stand for?¡± Gale asks.


    ¡°One night at least,¡± Shannai answers.


    ¡°You asked for that one big guy,¡± I comfort.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Lisen asks.


    ¡°Our lovely conveyance method here will help us access the rune formation,¡± Jer mocks.


    ¡°I can easily kill you,¡± Shan threatens.


    ¡°And once inside, we will endeavor to keep Vesh safe. The stairway is a perfect choke point, even if it doesn''t give us the advantageous height. Gale and I will keep a line while Shannai plays Calvary and Lisen supports.¡± Jer finishes.


    ¡°Thank creation for something useful to do.¡± Shan huffs.


    ¡°Once I get through the runes, Lisen and Gale will be the first. Jer and I will be the last.¡±


    ¡°You can get through the runes?¡± Lisen asks.


    ¡°I am certainly confident in myself,¡± I reply.


    ¡°Encouraging,¡± Jer adds.


    ¡°Should Gale or I be the last out?¡± Lisen asks.


    ¡°I will probably need to keep it open. It is an unavoidable risk, so it¡¯s best to plan it that way.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Jer asks.


    ¡°And?¡± I echo.


    ¡°The wall magic stuff that is going to genocide people?¡±


    ¡°I will do what I can if it comes down to a choice. What do you all want to do? Assuming Lisen and Gale are up to speed.¡±


    ¡°You know where I stand,¡± Shan huffs.


    ¡°I¡¯m on the side of leaving. We can¡¯t do anything to prevent it, only delay it,¡± Lisen agrees.


    "We should stay and fight. If we can''t make it out and disrupt those bastards, I''d join in on the fight and die on the hill," Gale ties the debate.


    ¡°Ughh, what is it you say, Vesh? With enough whatever, you can find a solution to anything. Why not this? Why can¡¯t we take our chances in the mines if it comes to it? I don¡¯t want them to win,¡± Jer growls the last bit.


    ¡°I will do what I can. I am with you, Jer, but in the end, I will always go for the practical decision. And we don¡¯t know what is there, so maybe I can do both.¡±


    ¡°And if you fail to do either,¡± Gale asks.


    ¡°Vesh can deal,¡± Jer defends.


    According to the map, we will only be able to reach the stairwell to the basement by first bypassing the entrance and moving up the stairs to the battlements. From there, we access the basement through the crow''s nests atop the relay. Concealment will also necessitate the donning of disguises procured by Shan earlier. She has already changed into hers and taps her foot as we all jostle to do the same.


    ¡°Jer? Didn''t know you were out on patrol,¡± The guard at the door greets.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t. I am showing a few new add-ons in our regiment around. What¡¯s got you on shit duty during the new year party?¡±


    ¡°I overslept the check last week; no one in the thirtieth segment bothered to wake me. Oh? I don¡¯t have a checkout for you?¡±


    ¡°You know how Meekus is. He always leaves it to someone else. I¡¯m sure you know how he is,¡± Jer blusters, wooing the way a bird sings.


    ¡°Don''t I, though. leaves the desk a mess and only partially dates the log. How can you write out 22,020 and not the centulennium code? Guy sucks."


    ¡°I feel you. Honestly, I would not log in, and then it¡¯s on Meekus tomorrow when the duty reports get backchecked.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯ll save his ass again. Just remind him next time that he needs to log it, even if it isn¡¯t a formal exit. How else are we going to know who is coming and going?¡±


    ¡°You are too good for him. I¡¯ll give him a bag of shit next time I see him.¡± Jer jokes, leading the group to the stairway.


    One hundred meters of stairs are plenty more than I hope to climb again, and descending promises to be easier as we come to the battlement. My first view of The Waste is empty. It is all, in every corner, of every direction, and all is sand. There is no life or growth or hope, just destruction. There are lights on the horizon, and shabby structures dot around fires, casting shadowy figures. They are the threat at the Wall, the destructive races, their armies.


    At least some of them are three times the size of Goble-kin I¡¯d met. Those must be the Or-kin. They aren''t just taller but broader, too. Their visage makes for a more daunting opposition. I see fighting in the camps, sounds of carnage carrying further than the sight. That or their customs are violent. The other side becomes less appealing as the horror unfolds.


    ¡°Do they attack?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes, the fights can be bloody even with our advantage. They hurl these wooden rods. Not pretty watching that go through someone.¡±


    ¡°We deal heavy casualties from up here. We probably kill twenty for every one we lose.¡± Gale summates, seeming conflicted by the idea.


    ¡°That army looks huge. How is it fed in a desert?¡±


    "I have heard rumors from the careers finding small pockets of vegetation. I''m not sure how they do it."


    ¡°Could be, could be something else.¡±


    We enter the basement in groups of two; Jer and I are first, allowing me a first look at the challenge. It¡¯s complexity incarnate. There are easily thousands of runes for storage and transference alone. The actual rune formations I will need to interact with are nowhere to be seen. This dread confirms a hypothesis that means more work on my end and more magic. The runes I need to access aren¡¯t fully visible, making this more complicated. An alarm is built into the larger structure and will take much more than I can give to disable.


    ¡°Meaning?¡± Shan hedges.


    ¡°I must set off their alarms to get deep enough to understand it.¡±


    ¡°Response time?¡± Shan asks.


    ¡°A minute or less,¡± Gale answers.


    ¡°You can do this, right?¡± Jer worries.


    "I can¡ª I think I can¡ª I believe I can. But I don''t know. It might be too much, too advanced."


    ¡°I believe you can,¡± Lisen affirms, surprising us.


    ¡°Well, looks like you have one fan at least,¡± Jer nudges.


    ¡°Alright, let''s get to it.¡±


    I drive my blade into the Wall, which plunges in effortlessly after infusing it with pure magic. While holding the handle, I start sending out tendrils of my magic into the black stone. This action triggers a siren to blow apart our cover. The clattering of armor and the reverberating blows come next. But this can''t be. There is another way. Swords clash and strike, screams and grunts tear from lips wise to the gruesome reality. I have other things, another fight entirely different but just as essential.


    In the run-up to this, I had considered my understanding of amalgamations. I have learned many things even the high mages don''t know. I see an ocean from the puddle I exist in. There''s too much, it''s too much. It is intricate, and I can''t wrap my head around any of it. I thought I could disrupt the barrier and destroy the years of work done by every death mage in the empire. I wanted to parse this monument with my brilliance.


    ¡°Vesh!¡± Someone calls.


    ¡°I know!¡±


    I have a choice: to make a hole for escape or disable the work that will kill half of my world. The answer is simple. The practice is untenable. How can there be so many? Even with my perception, I can¡¯t comprehend fast enough. The option is too heavy, and I will fail. There''s the sound of us losing ground and a cry of pain from Jer. My failure will kill them in one of the next seconds.


    Mana pours out of my catalysts and into my mouth as I send out still more and more tendrils, further and further. Every problem has a solution, every person has a breaking point, and every barrier has a weakness. It¡¯s just a matter of which comes first. My teeth clench the metal as I see the trick they use to slap on the patchwork. If I had someone else at another relay, I could overload the system while disconnecting this portion. The additions will kick in the safeguards and lock the barrier without crashing.


    They have to ruin everything. Even when I leave everything behind without hope of returning, they insist on rubbing their stained fingers across my only dream. Can I do it? But how can I do it? How does one do this kind of thing? I just do, or I don''t. If I save the people, then I will be damned, and they will still die. If I leave, I can gain the power for retribution.


    ¡°Get ready,¡± I call.


    The light and siren quit together. Jer and I are the only ones in a room of guards. The darkness keeps them, but I don¡¯t care. They are close enough to touch with my blade, and they move closer, but I don¡¯t step back. They are nearly on top of us, and I smile at the irony of my indifference. A hand is on my shoulder, and I am again weightless, awakening to a world of blistering truth.

 Chapter 41

    Being agonizes serenity. The inputs frazzle as considerations fall in the foreground. I had an intent, plans, and hopes. Now, I only see destruction dinging existence. What was I doing? It was important¡ª Waves crash into me again, pulling me further. Noise drills through the discordant surroundings. Something to center on¡ª


    ¡°Are you finally awake?¡± Erudite asks between laughs.


    ¡°What is¡ª this?¡± I grunt through gritted teeth.


    ¡°You think oversaturating your cells with energy would make for a comfortable experience? You barbarians can¡¯t even grasp simple concepts.¡± They relent, unmasking their true visage.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°You¡ª trick¡ª me.¡±


    ¡°What did I tell you? They snap, ¡±I can¡¯t change anyone. You made this fumble yourself, but it probably won''t kill you. All I did was use your mistake.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I snarl.


    ¡°Silly little child, there is only one reason to help anyone: It benefits me.¡±


    ¡°The precipice looms. It begins a new end, but not a full one. Destructions will shores as the final star falls. Foment or wither ye faithful.¡±


    -C.G.Sufferson, ¡°Coming to terms with inevitable doom.¡° Celestial Assembly 1st of  U.S. 14,561,422,021, Cathedral of Erudite, Varia.

 Shared Perspectives Chapter 1 Part 1

    Grains brand my cheek and hands. The bleary drops in an instant, and I am thirty feet in the air, falling to the ground. I have to hop twice more to reach an appropriate inertia to land. My response was extreme, but you can¡¯t be too cautious. Assess the situation, idiot. There is nothing but sand, and it is midday. It¡¯s too hot for the season, and my feet burn on the sand. Its¡¯ black luster in the sun streams across waiving dunes. My mother¡ª I had heard about this place, but to see the endless sands of Destructions¡¯ waste in person. I wonder if I¡¯ll see a worm¡ª Either way, I must leave before the others gain consciousness. Vesh, in particular, will not be willing to follow my plan regardless of the approach. We will have to leave it like this.


    At this point, I can no longer help myself and look to the prone people who had accompanied me outside of the walls. They look fragile, but that is a bias I have toward people in their station. The clothes and general care are clear distinguishers between us. But that is not why I have to leave. I have to leave because they will slow me down and might try and stop me. Vesh looks to be in pain, but I can¡¯t help them.


    Sure, they trusted me, but I didn¡¯t promise further than here. The rest aren¡¯t as hard to leave as Vesh. They are different; not perfect or even great, but different. I like them, but I have a task. Mind made; I don¡¯t glance back before teleporting two hundred meters east. I start running before jumping another two-hundred-fifty meters. For some reason, the ability increases in efficiency as I use it until a ceiling of three hundred and fifty. It almost feels like I am building momentum as I exchange between this and another symcosm. The transition stopped nauseating me around the age of ten, which was two years into my training. From what I remember, it is quite a feeling. I still get it, but now I embrace it instead of cringing away. In this, at least, I have grown.


    Thoughts of the task ahead clutter me in my forced breaks. The ends would justify the means¡ªa life for a light, my light. But I find a distraction on the way, a little worm that thinks itself mighty. I slay it and bathe in the blood that showers the sky. My body falters when it can no longer move, but I find no respite in rest. The days in the waste don¡¯t end, and the sun never moves from midday to its hottest. It beats a constant drum against my cracked skin. The only relief I find is the goodies packed away by that insightful dunderhead. Poultices heal the skin, and mana-infused water jugs rejuvenate my dry throat.


    ¡°It has probably been a couple of weeks¡­ I wonder if they''re okay.¡± I say to myself.


    ¡°Well, you left them to die, so they probably did that-¡±


    ¡°But Jer would be harder to kill than that, and Vesh¡­¡±


    ¡°The person who accepted you even after seeing you.¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t see the real thing. They saw what I wanted.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? You tricked them so easily? Like in the beginning when you were a spy?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s different.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    With no one else to talk to, it isn¡¯t so absurd to talk to yourself. And people who talk to themselves are sometimes seen as geniuses, so there''s that. I kick the sand on the fire and roll onto my sleeping bag. It is scorching and bright, but Vesh has seen ahead even there. A small tent in the pack keeps off the sun and cools the air inside. There is also this little foliage surrounding a small boulder. The only plant is a short tree with oval leaves the size of my face. But the roots aren¡¯t poisonous, and the wood makes for a stew fire fine. I again push away the thought of doubt and guilt before succumbing to sleep. I have no time; I have a person to find and a person to kill or as many as it takes.


    I awake with fire spreading all over my back, and my first thought is to roll¡ª lousy instincts. Muscles are nice, but they increase the surface area burning on the ground. I place my hands against the sand, and it sets them ablaze.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± I shout, opening my eyes to the blinding light coming from everywhere.


    I get to my knees and receive a slight relief as my pants heat, but the cloth won''t insulate me for long. I can create enough shade with both hands to make something of it. But there is nothing around. Sand extends as far as it can- wait. There is a rock with some vegetation around it. Great, we will be much better off if we can find more. I¡¯m on my feet in another moment, dragging Vesh up with me. They fight against waking and won¡¯t stand up. Oh, Great. Now I have to do everything. I look at the rest of our group and count one head short. By the looks of the hair buried in the sand, it is Shannai. She must have ditched us; there was no way someone would attack and only take her. Unless she noticed early and intercepted them? No, she probably left us. Fine enough.


    ¡°Up and at ¡®em, Gale, Lisen. One of you will need to carry Vesh. We will set up camp at that rock a kilometer up the way. There, Lisen can tend to Vesh. Any objections?¡± I delegate, hoping the two will be OK with my commanding tone.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re carrying them, but we will see what we can do once we get up there.¡± Gale rejects it with a slight smile.


    ¡°Worth a shot,¡± I mumble as I haul my light friend.


    ¡°Where is the Princess?¡± Lisen asks.


    ¡°Princess?¡± I chuckle, looking at the meek woman.


    She meeks at my attention, causing me to chuckle again. People look at me like that, but I can¡¯t help that. Part of me likes it, but another part resents her for being so intimidated by it and for paying attention to it. But I can¡¯t blame her because I am gorgeous. So Instead, I smile at her and Gale to elicit the full range of reactions and find more joy in this shit day.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    But my friend¡¯s struggling grunts levy my bravado. Vesh¡¯s breathing is jagged, breaking off for an eternal second before resuming. Their muscles twist and writhe. They move so much that I have to throw them over my shoulder. Then we are there, and Gale sets up the tent while Lisen helps Vesh from my shoulder. She begins administering her healing, but it looks utterly ineffective to me. Vesh told me how crazy healing magic is, but is she good?


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with them?¡± I ask after a moment.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ It isn¡¯t something common for sure.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by common?¡±


    ¡°I mean, I have never seen this. The closest I can think of is depletion sickness, but that can¡¯t be it.¡±


    ¡°Can you help?¡± I implore, starting to freak out.


    ¡°I will try to help Gale set up, and I will call you if I need you,¡± she says, brushing me off.


    I am thoughtlessly furious at the mere suggestion for a split second, and then I am calm enough to see the reason through my panic. I am in the way.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do that,¡± I grumble.


    The tents are too weak to handle my frustration and tears before Gale sends me to rip up the trees. I do so with zeal and find relief in the compliant plants. They rip from the ground with nary a protest to break across my leg. How long have they grown in this shit only to be torn apart by my hands? I care not as they offer me relief and sustenance. Lisen is too quiet, but I don¡¯t look over. She will do what she can, and If Vesh- Vesh will be okay. We will be alright. Or I will find that Princess and show her the folly of abandoning my friend. What if the difference in time means Vesh¡¯s life? What If- But it will be okay.


    The reassurances are for me and nothing else in my path. All those plants have no respite from my wrath. The sun doesn¡¯t move from its spot, beaming down on our group as we get ready for sleep. We hadn¡¯t made it far, and with Vesh¡¯s condition, we staggered more often than we stepped. The look on Gale¡¯s face when I burst into her tent tells me to shut the fuck up and let Lisen sleep. I would know more in the morning. All I need to do now is sleep, but that is a challenge I cannot rival now.


    There are approximately seven trillion nerves within my body. How do I know this? Each is currently in the process of bursting continuously. Pain loses its meaning. Semantics satiating my need for relief with pure dissociation. The pain is me and exists in me, but I am apart from it. I can detach it as quickly as a hair from my head. I am in my garden; the weeds have grown, and my trees are wilting in the cold.


    The brittle layer of ice above the snow cracks when I step on it, and some snow gets into my boots. The small marshy pit at the center is completely frozen over. I find my spot in the center of the copse of trees. The linen pillow there is unaffected by the landscape and warms under my presence. It is unpleasant, but it is suitable even with its lackluster stitching. I close myself to the chill and center on the warmth radiating from my core, from my persistence. In moments, the wind warms, and the sun peeks through the clouds. They, too, are curious, huh? I can hear the drips of melting snow in a few more moments. I can see the problem now. I had almost died because the matter of my body became oversaturated. My channels, tissue, bones, and organs are all oversaturated.


    What does this mean? I don¡¯t know. It seems similar to depletion sickness because I can¡¯t affect my magic. I produce an effect of magic from mana by guiding it and ambient mana with my own. But with this, there is too much mana for me to influence anything. The mana also infuses my biological matter, so much so that I can¡¯t cleanse it. Fuck. The agony leaks through again, and my world shatters before reforming as quickly.


    Fuuck. Let¡¯s avoid that. We need to find a way to deal with excess mana. One me looks at the other with a confused face.


    ¡°Uh, are you me?¡± We both ask.


    We both confirm that it isn¡¯t the most pressing matter, and we delegate responsibilities like this. I would focus on dissociating and maintaining the garden, and I would focus on studying how to deal with the excess mana. We both agreed it would be good to switch jobs if we remain in this state for longer than two days. With that figured out, I broke up and did both things simultaneously. I share the same experiences, but neither is me; I lay somewhere in between.


    This diversion soon becomes more pronounced as both mes start envisioning themselves apart from each other and myself. One grows out their hair and starts a promising mustache across my face. The other goes bald and likes it so much that they shave from head to toe. They keep the robes the same as simple cuts, but the colors change. Red for my mustachioed alter ego and blue for Baldy.


    The me that still is me isn¡¯t fully awake. I slumber under the care of the alters and only observe the progress. The two keep to strict schedules and have started eating meals together. I had decided that changing jobs wasn¡¯t necessary as long as I agreed, and I agreed. The bald me preferred the garden and the breeze that perpetually blew against my bald head. Mustache prefers the library with similar reasoning that revolves around their mustache. I find the pair eccentric, but I can¡¯t object to the usefulness of my results.


    I have made advances on all fronts and am now closer to finding a way to deal with this mana. The basic plan comes together in a week. That is a week in this state, but I am unsure of the actual flow of time. Either way, it wasn¡¯t long before I knew what to do. The problem is how to do it.


    I need to form a mana gem inside my body and form a power rune on my flesh to anchor it. The problem is calculating what size and material would be best. Also, I can¡¯t use magic, so I must naturally form the mana gem. The prospect is daunting, but in my research, I learned it is essential. If I don¡¯t form the mana gem, it will form randomly in my body. And if it forms anywhere but my center, I will destabilize and implode.


    ¡°Wake up, Urch.¡± The dead reprobate shouted as they shook me.


    ¡°There better be a raid,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°There is! Two units are moving into a pincer,¡± the lucky kid blubbers.


    ¡°Shut up. We buggin''?¡±


    ¡°Da bug-outs all set, Urch. We¡¯ll make it out in ten.¡±


    ¡°Alright, go check in your unit.¡±


    The kid runs from the room. I can¡¯t tell if they¡¯re afraid of the raid or me. Either way, it will pep those steps. I grab my coat from the dislodged chunk of wall I¡¯d hung it on. The dilapidated warehouse was a good hiding spot but stinks of shoe polish. We got a few weeks of refuge in its refuse. But now the eyes of creation are upon us, and we must flee again.


    We have been on the run for five months now. In those long months, Vesh¡¯s directions remained specific and seemed clairvoyant. Without them, we would have died back in the capital. With them, we have successfully evaded the eyes. And yet, I still find it hard to trust them. Do we need to leave so early? The members rushing through the hallway show me an unearned deference, bowing and scraping when they should be buggin¡¯.


    ¡°Hustle to it. No time for bull puff,¡± I command in my best leadership voice.


    They crumble into their routes and rush off. I don¡¯t deserve the respect, but without it, they will die, so I have to keep my face looking forward to our goal. The command room is on fire. The people bustle and burn with an assurance I can¡¯t muster. My second holds three at attention before coming to my side.


    ¡°It is all following procedure,¡± they affirm what my eyes can see.


    ¡°After the fifth time, you would expect some resistance.¡±


    ¡°Have you not heard?¡±


    ¡°I got the bug order? We were due- is it prompted?¡±


    ¡°Yes, assumed contact on the southern recon team. There were no survivors, but the backup was¡ª we confirmed contact. We have sent a stalling force, but we expect losses.¡±


    ¡°Hold it,¡± I command with a shit fear in my stomach.


    ¡°I know the instructions are clear, but I am sure that Vesh couldn¡¯t have predicted the response team sent by the Sanctum. Plus, we have increased in value as a target since taking on that squadron-¡±


    ¡°We have only one directive. It doesn¡¯t involve fighting, yet...¡± I mutter the last part, but my second isn¡¯t stupid, and the instructions are clear. ¡°We follow the course. Cancel the squad and put them on hauling. Everyone else heard the show. Pick up your asses and move to the evac.¡± My second barks, inciting the fire to burst from the room.


    ¡°Another one?¡± I note as the courier reaches me.


    ¡°It¡¯s from the backup recon squad in the south.¡± They clarify, handing me a note.


    The text is loose in grammar and alignment, but the message is clear. The forces in the south have begun to retreat in mass. The platoon chasing us has reversed course. The time to move is now, yet I can only think about those prolific instructions. Has Vesh done something? But how could anyone provoke this? Either way, we have to move, and I can only wonder about a growing god.

 Chapter 1 Part 2

    Plebs congregate on the streets like masses of rats. Their stink robs me of my morning tea. They are upset about some meaningless pleb dribble, so I suffer. The summons catches me in my library, where I hide to drink my morning respite indoors like a pleb.


    The courier is a spineless runt who hardly gets a word out. I shoo it off before it pisses on my rug. I would have rejected the summons if it were from anyone else. Not that a lesser has sent me a summons in some time, but the formal letterhead still irks me. The embossed red letters reading ¡®summons'' culls to my pride.


    Even the High mage patriarch of a royal family can¡¯t refuse a summons from Speaker Sage. I groan and swallow the last of my tea. Speaker Sage¡¯s offices aren¡¯t far from the campus, so I don¡¯t have to come near any plebs, a small mercy. The door is ajar; therefore, it is not stifling its booming occupant. Sheiking Shit, she is pissed. And I have to deal with her fury- No, maybe you didn¡¯t fuck up. Did you fuck up? I think I am good. Plus, I can not do much, regardless. Well- I take the momentum and push through the door quickly.


    ¡°You summoned me? Is there something I can do for you, Speaker?¡±


    ¡°Cut the bullshit, Gallah. It¡¯s a major breach event.¡±


    ¡°Another-¡± I slip for an insufferable second, which renders unto me the gates of Destructions¡¯ Abyss. ¡°How can I serve?¡± I hovel under her looming will.


    ¡°Kill the dissidents and retrieve my daughter. Fail this time, and it will be more than your lineage.¡±


    ¡°I will as you command.¡± I squeeze the words from a place that knows nothing but adherence and slink away.


    Threshold met: accessing autonomous movement. Systems initializing¡ªWhole system operability¡ª achieved. Requiem redundancy offline¡ª Booting without finalized parameters¡ª Reboot failed¡ª Re-attempting¡ª Success¡ª Operability achieved¡ª


    I awake with a sliver in my head. I can no longer mask my Nanna levels, and the security runes will detect the influx momentarily. Calculating probability gives me several routes to one exit with minimal casualties. All of which will lead through this enforced faraday in my damn way. Ten percent of the Nanna converts to drill through the weakest link in the chain.


    An uncalculated event intervenes to throw everything into chaos. The system isolating all of us is too cheap or arrogant to isolate the cages, meaning every cell is now open. The detained occupants have a moment where Nanna empties from the air and surges into them. As one, they all unleash an unnecessary amount and disintegrate new holes in the facility. It helps me, but it will also increase the response. I need a different exit.


    My predictive procedure finds a new hole cutting through the outer wall. Once I am in the sun, I can accrue enough Nanna and translocate. First, I will face the people converging on this location from every direction. The fights are too one-sided, and I reach the new opening feeling pity for the blood on my palms¡ªI have something I need to do, someone to find. Death is a part of it, an inevitable consequence of opposition.


    There is a fifty-meter drop between salvation and a forty-three percent chance I will survive the fall, but that is twice as good as the front door. I grit my teeth and step off of the building, shattering both of my legs and my pelvis upon colliding with the ground.


    ¡®The fragmented bones are a distraction before the sunshine grazes my finger and bliss snares my attention. I drag my husk a little more and engulf a moment later as the power trembles the foundations of reality. I am again a force for the fury of creation. Justice will wrought through me, and a rebellion is reborn. Upon my death, a chance squanders with an abandoned child.


    ¡°You don¡¯t go past the light when the sky has darkened.¡±


    ¡°Pap-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a discussion, Gorber. It is a thing for attending to. A thing to keep close.¡±


    ¡°You can find more when the darkness has-¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°And you are the only one with eyes and ears for noting simple things? No. You are a young one without a task to name by.¡±


    ¡°And If I want none of your task names?¡±


    ¡°Then you will be a little Gorber your whole life.¡± The carer says, scraping the dirt from my scraped cheek.


    ¡°I could be named if I wish, and I am still a Gorber, even without being a Gorber?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± they laugh.


    ¡°Carer!¡± I shout at the obtusity.


    ¡°Goble-kin aren¡¯t little Gorbers who want to go past a darkfire.¡±


    ¡°Fine, I understand.¡± I lie.


    ¡°Do you? The other Carers and I will lock you away.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll burst free.¡±


    The eldest carer chuckles at this mumbled rebuke and tussles my pelt. The gesture is full of love, but I can¡¯t stand to hear that knowing snicker. My life isn¡¯t yours, old grumpy thing. Your failing and all failings don''t mean I will fail- and I am better in the dark than anyone. I don¡¯t even like the light. But they only see how we do things and not what they can be. But if I show them? If I return with something? A carcass would get me noticed, but a relic would change everything if I return with a relic all like: oh look at this, Gorber no more. Kin will listen.


    Dreams of grandeur pop at the pointy look of my fellow Gorber. She stares at me with a smirk that jabs all the dreams around. The look is so devious that I reciprocate out of instinct, and the look coalesces with joint smiles. She has the same ideations for stuff. She is enshrouding magik, and I look out.


    We sneak up on the elders'' murmurs. Now, the watch is low. We are hard to spot with my vision and her darkness, but the carer will soon note that we are missing. If they don¡¯t notice, the darkness lasts only six hours, leaving us a small window.


    An Or-kin is the first thing to spot through our magik. Magik is weak on them. Are they going to care for two random Gobers? I can feel my accomplice tense beside me. I am already an old wall trying not to leak. The or-kin¡¯s grey eyes scan us with a passive interest. His one hand is enough to squash us both. And that grey skin- uck. In one second, we are going to die or become food, and then the Or is off without a care for us. Phew.


    My fellow Gorber can''t keep up the darkness for long, but I can always see through it. We had ventured in several directions, but the darkness made things clear. With it, we can spot relics from a kilometer away. Still, relics aren¡¯t ordinary, and we have yet to find anything from our hundreds of trips. Maybe the carers are correct. She pulls on my tunic and tears the sinue. I look at her, but she points at something in the distance.


    My jaw hits the waste at the glow humming through the endless darkness. My accomplice is already running, and I have to pick up my shit before I can catch her. She laughs at the light that dances on the horizon. I reciprocate. But the light is unlike any relic I¡¯ve heard of. The tales tell of stationary dimness. This new sun hops and skips from northeast to southeast and back again. Aren¡¯t we near the boundary? Gorber tumbles over a dune and is out of sight.


    ¡°Gorber!¡± I shout, nearly tumbling over the same dune. ¡°You a¡¯ight, why are you sittin''? Stand up¡ª, you¡ª¡±


    As I raise my sight to the light, what has stopped her becomes apparent. The darkness has fled. It¡ªshe is radiant. Three devouring worms writhe on the ground, and six more corpses litter the expanse. In the center of the madness is a figure wreathed in power. She wields a tiny dagger and sword to devastate the behemoths. Each is sixty meters of dense muscle, but it is useless against her. She is incorporeal carnage. Every struggling jerk against her only deepens the dagger.


    Her light flickers and dims when the final worm falls limp, but the darkness is still gone. She seems to be stuck. Or is it that she can¡¯t muster enough to move? A force such as her can not tire, yet she does. Like us, she falls to her knees. Furthermore, she collapses onto her stomach. But her light is still there.


    ¡°We have to return. We passed the border. Wait, what are you doing? Don¡¯t go near her! Gorber!¡± Gorber shouts in a whisper, but I don''t listen.


    Should I help her? Can I? Does she even need it? She seems, in a way, but for all I know, this is another Restday. Her skin looks burned- I think. Those blisters, at least, probably aren''t supposed to be there. My choice is inevitable, but how do I get her back? I holler at Gober to make some poles from the trees. After a short whine, she relents and helps me make the concoction. We can carry her with our clothes stretched between the poles and bring her, but we are exposed. Gober refuses to give her loin-hide, and I can''t blame her. Women are weird about that stuff. We drag the large creature onto it and lift the weight with a strain. She doesn¡¯t wake up during the rough trip, but she does mutter something about killing a murderer.


    With the extra weight, sneaking into the camp is twice as difficult. The return trip is always heavier, and we are pushing Liber¡¯s abilities to the limit. Thankfully, we are back before the increase in watches. We stash the unconscious person in the shed and close it when a noise stops our efforts.


    ¡°You have something to explain?¡± The expectant carer asks, looking beyond angry.


    ¡°W-w-we wer-¡± Liber begins in a stutter.


    ¡°We went outside the camp, and we are regretful. We were wrong.¡± I attempt, hoping to throw off the scent.


    ¡°What¡¯cha seen?¡± The carer asks as if now, taking in our lack of clothing and the worm blood.


    ¡°We ran into a carcass feast. There¡¯re eight dead worms at least.¡± I whimper, playing the role instinctually.


    ¡°Childs¡¯... tut tut.¡± They tut, embracing us both. ¡°You are okay, and you see the danger I warn you of. We will leave camp early and won''t see any Pinnac,¡± they reassure.


    Gorber is a mess of snot. I have to ensure they don¡¯t look further into this shed. The person will be safe. But they¡¯ll be needin¡¯ food-n-water. After that, I¡¯ll need to patch the scrapes. The tears I spill know nothing of my contention; they only flow.