ã€ŠAberrant: Unbound Soulã€‹


 Prologue

    What awaits us at the end of our lives?

    Death, most obviously. But what about beyond that?

    The notion of an afterlife was something Shep had contemplated on occasion during his limited time on Earth. Though, he never thought too hard about it; nor did he particularly fear its arrival.

    Lingering on such things never did anyone good. After all, the cold blade of the reaper¡¯s scythe was inevitable.

    So Shep lived fast and he lived freely, paying little mind to the beginning after the end.

    However, as he was now, Shep regretted not putting forth just a little more effort. Even if it was only another day. Another month. Another year. It was time he could spend with others ¡ª time he could have spent not here.

    How often did he yearn for the warmth of life now?

    The swelling pride of accomplishment...

    A belly full of laughter¡­

    Or the lingering promise left behind by another¡¯s intimate touch¡­

    Regret. His soul ached for these fleeting feelings, desperate to experience them one last time.

    In the past, Shep often found it much easier to forget the good moments in favor of the bad ¡ª especially when he was young and his future was still uncertain.But now, confronted with an eternity of suffering in the cold and dark void of the afterlife, Shep knew that there was nothing left for him; so he clung to any lingering joyous emotions with a tenacity born from necessity. It was all he could do to keep himself from dissipating into nonexistence.

    With life ¡ª consciousness ¡ª there was always a vague lingering hope.And hanging by this thread of hope, Shep persisted. For years, decades, maybe even centuries, he wandered through the darkness.

    In time, he found that he was not alone.

    He passed by numerous departed souls that burned with a fiery passion as they shot off to seek their loved ones. Like fireworks in the night sky, their existences were loud and bright. They caught Shep¡¯s attention, filling him with a sense of wonder.

    Hope. Maybe if I just feel strongly enough, I¡¯ll be able to defy this actuality. Rise above it, and achieve closure. It was hard not to think this way when confronted with these spectacular stars.

    Nonetheless, they faded. They all did.

    Despair. What a futile battle it was, Shep realized. He witnessed many who ultimately lost themselves in the unending struggle to retain their will.But he didn¡¯t blame them. In fact, he was almost envious of their oblivion.

    Why he didn¡¯t allow himself to succumb to the same fate, not even Shep himself knew.

    With each passing second, the creeping chill sunk deeper into his mind, gnawing away at his very essence.

    There was no way out. And it all felt very wrong.

    Anger. After a while, he couldn¡¯t stand it. He wanted to reach out to the others. Warn them. They didn¡¯t know the folly of their struggle. But no matter how he called out to them, stretching his ethereal arms to yank them back down to the ground ¡ª they all slipped through his fingers.

    After some time, Shep came to regret these actions. The more he focused on others, the less energy he could spare for himself.

    Resignation. He imagined himself like a wizened old man as he traveled now. Tutting softly beneath his breath as he saw these young and ignorant souls burn themselves out. All he lacked was a proper stoop and a cane to complete the image. And in more than just his imagination, he really was a bitter man nearing the end.

    Slowly, ever so slowly, he could feel his soul fading.

    Pain. His thoughts grew muddled, and the dreams he had held inside his heart blended together in a blurred mess of color, reminiscent of an abstract oil painting. Even the faces of those he held dear ¡ª stowed away under lock and key in the recesses of his mind ¡ª were ground into dust by time. Nothing could escape it.

    But even as he lost everything that he had left to hold onto, Shep fought. Resisting with the final dregs of his will until the last sliver of strength left him.

    Eventually, only one thing remained clear. A name. Shep.

    He remained alone on his imaginary stoop as the newly deceased continued to pass him by in great numbers, venturing out in search of their own reconciliation.

    Shep saw them off through the hazy lens clouding his eyes. He wished them well on their journey. He hoped they could find the answer that he couldn¡¯t.

    ¡ªWhy?

    Why was this the way it all ended?

    Had he failed in some way?

    Was there really nothing else? Nothing more?

    Fear. Shep sighed as the weight of his thoughts became too much to bear. In his soul¡¯s final moments, he truly felt fear. Because he knew. He knew for certain this time that there was nothing beyond this¡­

    ***

    ¡®W-Who¡¯s there?¡¯ Shep¡¯s soul apparition fluttered into awareness at another¡¯s gentle prodding.

    Bobbing gently up and down in front of him was a rather peculiar fellow. A soul unlike any he had seen. Its silhouette was indistinct and cracks ran down its length like the consciousness held within was threatening to burst out at any moment.

    ¡®What do you want from me?¡¯ Shep grumbled in his mind. ¡®Can¡¯t you see I was about to fade? There¡¯s nothing I can do for you.¡¯

    Shep¡¯s eyes began to close once more, but the soul remained persistent. And for some reason, this greatly bothered him.

    ¡®Did you come to gloat? I can assure you ¡ª your time will come soon!¡¯ Shep waved his arms around, swatting angrily at the pesky guy. ¡®Just let me spend my final moments in peace¡­¡¯

    He¡¯d tried but he¡¯d failed. It¡¯d been long enough.

    He was tired.

    Shep slumped forward, but suddenly, the fuzzy smear of light reached out, latching onto him.

    ¡®You little¡ª!¡¯ Shep barked as he struggled to free himself.

    Please...

    He heard something. And for a moment, all his thoughts departed, leaving only a surging whirlwind of raw emotion inside him.

    Please...

    Shep extended an arm, running his hand across the soul¡¯s unstable vessel.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Gazing intently at the soul, he intoned in his mind, ¡®What do you want me to do?¡¯

    It tilted its head strangely as if the answer was the most obvious thing. Then, it grabbed his other arm.

    Please.

    Again, he heard it. More clearly this time.

    The soul inside the fractured shell sloshed around like a yolk, and as it fought against its constraints, some of it spilled over into Shep.

    Vague memories and feelings that were not his own welled up inside him. These were the last things that this man could not bear to part with.

    Shep understood the sentiment well. Few were willing to completely let go.

    Just as he had, this soul had fought against the shackles that restrained it in this place. But instead of coming to accept its fate, it had lashed out in a fit of frenzied rage, resulting in its current fragile state.

    Left with no other alternative, it had sought out a being to meld with in order to preserve its existence in the only way it could think of: leaving its legacy with another so that it may live on through them.

    Shep was willing to comply with its request, but he needed to make one thing clear--

    Me.

    ¡®I retain control. But I will not forget you.¡¯

    He decided in a fit of sudden fervor that he would use this soul as fuel to begin his quest for answers.

    Understandably, it hesitated for a moment. But between becoming Shep¡¯s strength or becoming nothing. The answer quickly became evident.

    You. It nodded.

    So with the remains of his power, Shep clawed at the fragments of the worn husk surrounding his meal. Piece by piece he picked it apart as the soul and consciousness bubbled forth, spilling into him with great excitement.

    Electricity jolted through his mind as he absorbed his first bite. Another quickly followed. He was like a man dying of thirst who had come across a pure and cool mountain spring as he eagerly stuck his mouth in the midst of the shimmering stream of liquid light.

    Utterly consumed by a tremendous hunger, Shep devoured the soul with zeal, not even leaving the shards of its vessel behind. And in doing so, a trickle of heat suffused his old and weary body. It traveled down from his jaw and into his gut where it stoked the embers of hope that had been lying dormant for so long.

    Shep reveled in his newfound purpose.

    Another soul was lost. But he had found a path.

    He did not know where it would lead ¡ª and it may very well only serve to further prolong his miserable reality ¡ª but he would walk it regardless.

    Shep stood up and stepped down from his stoop.

    ***

    Inexhaustible, Shep journeyed through the chasm of darkness. Stopping only on occasion to gorge upon a willing soul.

    Who they were before they entered the afterlife mattered not. And they all knew what they would become when they were devoured.

    Yet, like moths to a flame, they continued to flock to him. The other wanderers were drawn to his momentum and boundless spirit, proactively giving themselves up as he continued to gather strength.

    Time tried its best to hold him at bay, but its steady corrosion could not match the pace at which he advanced.

    Gradually, Shep grew more confident, and his perception of the space around him began to change.

    He could see an end to this place. There were limits ¡ª a boundary that entrapped the souls of the damned.

    Finally...

    The vague confines quaked as he approached, rippling like a pool of water.Tentatively, Shep took a step forward, his arms held out in front of him.

    Elation and apprehension twisted into confusing knots in his stomach as his fingertips passed through the wall, met with no resistance.

    ¡®How could I have missed this?¡¯ Shep wondered.

    Before he had consumed his first soul, Shep had traveled for far longer and further than the amalgamation he had become. But even so, he had never encountered anything like this.

    ¡®Did I stop too soon? If I had just continued on a little longer, would I have made it here intact¡­ as myself?¡¯

    He¡¯d done it again, hadn¡¯t he?

    Given up too quickly.

    ¡®No,¡¯ Shep growled.

    He could not allow his doubts and regrets to weigh him down again. He had to push through. Not just for himself, but for everyone and everything that had helped him reach this point. His hopes were no longer his alone.

    Shep roared, his spirit flaring within the inky darkness as he gathered all the strength his soul could muster and leaped through the barrier¡­

    Freedom.

    On the other side, he was met with an unfathomable sight.

    A river containing countless vibrant souls meandered in a lazy circuit through the vast universe. The beings within shining brightly even in comparison to the stars all around them.

    Shep found his reprieve to be short-lived as he was swiftly drawn into the vortex that carried the souls. He struggled briefly against the force that apprehended him, but soon, drifted peacefully along like the others.

    As he entered, the surrounding souls regarded him curiously. They reminded him of innocent children as they poked and prodded at his bizarre form without the slightest hint of malice. Shep just chuckled to himself and ignored their antics. He was like a wolf that entered into a flock of sheep at the behest of the shepherd. The thought of this amused him to no end as he restrained his hunger.

    Every once in awhile, Shep would see a soul being carried off toward a planet they passed. He surmised that they were destined for a reincarnation of sorts.

    ¡®Is it possible that I may rejoin the realm of the living,¡¯ he pondered. In all his time spent floating through the void, this prospect had never once occurred to him.And now, confronted with the opportunity, it didn¡¯t excite him as much as he expected.

    All he wanted was an answer ¡ª not another chance.

    He hadn¡¯t done enough in his first life to deserve a second one. The evidence of that had been laid plain before him. Or so he assumed.

    ¡®How can I break free from this cycle?¡¯ he began to think.

    Another life would lead to another death. And he may not be so lucky as to wind up here again.

    Shep began to more carefully observe the cosmos. If his soul had initially been bound outside of this river of reincarnation, then surely there must be other destinations as well.

    But what was the purpose of their separation?

    As Shep pondered, many souls departed to their new adventure, while many more joined him in the river.

    It wasn¡¯t until they entered a rather peculiar galaxy that he finally noticed something different. There was a qualitative change in the atmosphere.

    First, he noticed it in the new souls. They thrummed with vitality far beyond the others ¡ª even comparable to Shep himself in some cases. And within a few of their vessels, flowed hazy purplish-blue energy.

    Before long, Shep realized that this energy wasn¡¯t only present within these souls, but was woven into the very fabric of space around them.

    The nebulous of gas, dust, and stars glittered brilliantly alongside the aurora of mystical energy.

    ¡®What could cause this? What is this energy, that it''s so pervasive and powerful it could infringe upon the soul?¡¯

    Shep wanted to learn more, so he slowed down his pace, lingering for as long as he could.

    He saw that the energy afforded these souls more maneuverability than himself. They swam through the river joyously, sometimes even escaping the unseen vortex only to be quickly drawn back inside.

    Accurate conclusions were difficult to draw, but if this energy could be used to further his quest for the truth, he would gladly gather it for himself.Unfortunately, Shep was met with no success, even after a multitude of varying attempts. This frustrated him immensely as he knew that it was possible. The souls that departed from these worlds had achieved it.

    But what allowed them to do so?

    None of those who entered the river ever seemed able to accumulate more of it. There was a possibility that they only lost this ability due to their memories being purified before entering the river, but Shep suspected that it may also require a physical body.

    Either way, he was running out of time. Shep was moving as slowly as possible, but even then, he was flashing through the galaxy at a velocity beyond the speed of light.

    He had to make a decision. Who knew how long it would be before he encountered something like this energy or substance again?

    Maybe, just maybe¡­ if he could harvest enough of it¡­

    Go¡ª! The lingering remnants of the souls inside of him shouted all at once.

    And so, Shep went.

    He pushed against the flow of the river, making his way out to the edge.The force binding him inside sought to squeeze and suffocate his vessel. Twisting and wrenching him back onto the preordained path.

    But he was the one who had emerged from the depths of the Chasm of Lost Souls. He was not so easy to tie down.

    Shep tore through the barrier. Hundreds and thousands of souls gushed out of the pipeline alongside him, flooding the galaxy with their splendor. Many were abruptly drawn back in before the leak could be patched, but just as many were not.

    Shep tumbled down like a skydiver without a parachute. He was no longer guided by the unseen hand, but he was also unable to control his destination.

    Though, to him, it mattered not. He smiled with youthful glee as a particularly large and lush planet, reminiscent of his previous, entered his sights.

    Long forgotten was the spiteful old man who had raged at fate from his stoop.

    An opportunity was before him and Shep was determined to persevere until the end no matter what obstacles rose to block his path.

    He would have his answers in due time.

 Chapter 1

    Down past the stratosphere and into the empty expanse above the world he fell. The planet stretched out below him, and Shep found himself tumbling toward a landmass shrouded by a loose grey fog that stretched its ghastly arms into the surrounding sea. It was an area that seemed to have been hidden from the rest of the scattered surface world.

    Shep lamented his ill luck, but as he passed through the gloomy strands of mist that climbed even higher than the clouds, the fog vanished, and he could still clearly see the starry expanse behind him. The occasion was odd, but not any more so than the existence of the mysterious energy, so he refocused himself ahead.

    Fitting... Shep smiled wryly as his descent finally slowed.

    Judging by the fullness and deep grey color of the downy blanket that covered the sky, it must¡¯ve been a rather dreary evening for the people below.

    He came to a stop and waited, held afloat by sheer force of will.

    Waiting for what? He wasn¡¯t entirely sure. But he had an inkling that something would guide him to his destination if he was patient. And fortunately, he wasn¡¯t forced to linger for long.

    There was a tug on his soul. Gentle at first, but it quickly escalated in force. An indistinct lasso of the blue and violet energy formed in the air and wrapped around him. It appeared that someone or something in this world didn¡¯t take too kindly to alien souls wandering around freely.

    Shep allowed himself to be pulled along, dipping below the layer of clouds and swooping down like a bird of prey eager to snatch up its meal.

    Rain. How troublesome.

    The torrential downpour obscured much of the landscape, seeking to erode all in its silent fury. Shep squinted and shielded his eyes but the heavy droplets passed seamlessly through him, uncaring of his desires.

    All he knew was that he was headed somewhere to the north.

    There was a dark and imposing spine of mountains stretching across the horizon, and a turbulent sea that raged endlessly behind them. He sought more detail, though his efforts still were in vain.

    Shep¡¯s vision contorted and blurred further as he picked up more speed. Faster and faster he flew as the rain and wind roared at his vague form. He clenched every imaginary muscle of his ethereal body, bracing for an impact he knew he would never feel as the earth expanded rapidly in his eyes.

    But it was at this moment that a radiant glimmer suddenly winked into existence and captured his complete attention. A soul. Time slowed ¡ª nearly to a complete halt ¡ª as it shone crystal clear through the suddenly lethargic sheets of falling water. It emerged directly in Shep¡¯s path, drifting away from its body as it readied to head into the beyond.

    Without even thinking, he opened his mouth wide and swallowed it whole as he encroached upon it. The consciousness struggled against him on instinct, but it was weak and ignorant of its fate. He would guide it.

    Be at peace. Shep declared, his voice containing all the dignity and authority of a rightful sovereign. I shall set you free if you so desire, but if you have any lingering attachment to this world ¡ª I would offer you another choice.

    He was not able to thoroughly convey his intentions, but it could understand enough, so he spat it back out.

    The soul trembled. It¡¯s youth showing in its protracted hesitation. But Shep was patient. He would give it as long as it needed. Suppressing the rope of energy that remained wrapped around him, he waited.

    Time resumed its steady cadence and hours passed in the pouring rain as the two souls faced one another. It was dark now, but neither¡¯s brilliance had faded.

    I agree. The soul finally stepped forward, flames born of desire blazing in its hazy eyes.

    Shep nodded in appreciation of its determination as its body liquified, melding into his own like wet clay.

    The acceptance of this soul into his vessel was very different from the previous acts of devouring. This time, he allowed the two of them to blend more thoroughly in order to patch up the erosion left behind by the dark chasm.

    Shep was no longer in need of energy to fuel his journey and he also wanted to properly respect the will of the body he was soon to inhabit.

    Stroud. A sudden deluge of fresh memories, feelings, and regrets crashed into Shep¡¯s mind with the force of a tidal wave. Reeling from the impact, he was unable to put up a defense against the whirlpool of remorse that dragged him into its depths. In the next moment ¡ª everything was still and black.

    Shep was filled with an immediate and overwhelming sense of dread upon meeting this sight. It was all too similar to his arrival in the afterlife. Cold, lonely, and utterly dark.

    ¡®Please¡­ not again¡­¡¯ he whispered into the void.

    Panic was worming its way through his body, and his chest heaved as he desperately sucked air into his lungs. And then ¡ª his eyes shot open.

    Stone. Smooth. Real.

    He was unable to piece together a single coherent thought as his mind suffered from a wild stampede of emotions.

    ¡°A-Ah¡ª¡± Shep spluttered, coughing violently as he inhaled too sharply and too rapidly due to his surprise. His throat was dry and hoarse, and his whole body ached with a dull pain ¡ª particularly in his stomach where it felt like someone was scraping a dull knife through his intestines with every slight shift of his torso.

    ¡°Shhh. You¡¯re okay, Stroud¡­¡± a gentle voice cooed as a warm but calloused hand stroked his hair. ¡°Maeve, would you fetch some water, please?¡±

    Shep closed his eyes and breathed in again as he heard the soft pitter-patter of feet scampering across a wooden floor.

    A heavy door swung shut.

    An old chair creaked at his bedside. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    And again, he heard the voice.

    ¡°How¡¯re you feeling, my valiant knight?¡± it asked.

    Shep¡¯s tongue moved in an unfamiliar manner as he wheezed out, ¡°...Alive.¡±

    He spoke. But it was not in any language he should have known. Moran. A faint recollection told him. Or a northern dialect of it, to be more precise. The way of speaking was very harsh, and the pronunciation was stunted, almost hard.

    ¡°Y-Yes¡­ Yes, you¡¯re okay,¡± the voice repeated as it choked up, seemingly more to seek reassurance itself than to comfort him. Shep reopened his eyes and his head rolled to the side to face the source of it.

    His own tears welled up as he gazed at the kindly, mature woman still running her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Every part of her seemed to smile with immeasurable relief and affection as she gazed at him. From the subtle wrinkles around her thin, upturned lips to her soft brown eyes¡­ There was a beauty and warmth to her that he couldn¡¯t explain.

    Celina. Mother.

    ¡°T-Thirsty¡­¡± Shep managed to croak out.

    Celina nodded vigorously. ¡°Maeve is on her way with some water. She should be returning any moment now.¡± Somehow, she managed to speak clearly amidst the jumbled mess of laughs and sobs that wracked her frail body.

    Shep looked away as peace and unease engaged in a perplexing battle in his heart. As they fought, the room settled into a mellow quiet.

    Celina was perfectly content to coddle him with murmurs of motherly affection. However, his thoughts now churned in an unceasing loop of regret and confusion. There was just too much to process. Too much to feel. It didn¡¯t matter how prepared he thought he was for such a moment... Shep was gradually being overwhelmed.

    His breath quickened again.

    ¡°It''s alright¡­ You¡¯re safe now, Stroud.¡±

    Celina repeated those words over and over, but despite the assurance she poured into them ¡ª they resounded harmlessly through the dark void surrounding Shep¡¯s mind. With his eyelids serving as the backdrop, he sank back into the abyss. The flesh and blood of his new body faded until all that was left was a tired and empty soul...

    ¡°I¡¯m back¡ª!¡±

    The image shattered, and Shep returned to a gut-wrenching pain as his body recoiled from the sudden noise.

    ¡°Oops! Sorry¡­¡± Shep saw a young girl in her early-to-mid teens hunching her shoulders sheepishly, withering under the older woman¡¯s glare.

    Maeve.

    ¡°He just needs some peace and quiet now, dear,¡± Celina clarified, her visage softening.

    ¡°Right,¡± Maeve whispered. The girl did her utmost to remain quiet as she tip-toed over to the nightstand and carefully placed down the jug in her arms. ¡°Should I call in my father for another round of healing?¡±

    ¡°Not just yet.¡± Celina wrapped an arm around the girl¡¯s waist, drawing her in for a familial embrace. ¡°Thank you for standing vigil with me. Your presence and well wishes meant a lot to us both. But the hour is late now ¡ª you should get some rest.¡±

    Maeve hesitated, and Shep didn¡¯t need to look to sense her apprehensive fidgeting at his side.

    ¡°O-Okay¡­¡± she sniffled after a few tense seconds. ¡°I¡¯m really glad Stroud is better now. I-I¡¯ll be back again in the morning with my father to see him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you then,¡± Celina rubbed the girl¡¯s back and sent her off with a compassionate smile. Immediately, she turned her attention back to Stroud, filling a wooden cup from the jug and bringing it to his cracked lips.

    ¡°Slowly¡­¡± she chided as Shep lifted his chin, gulping down the lukewarm water.

    As the sweet nectar trickled down his throat, Shep released a deep and satisfied sigh, indicating with his eyes that he wanted more. Celina happily obliged, doling it out to him in small doses, so that his eagerness wouldn¡¯t cause him to choke.

    ¡°Satisfied?¡± she asked after the jug had lightened considerably.

    Shep nodded and settled back down onto his rough pillow.

    ¡°Good. Now get some rest. As soon as Chef Oren is awake, I¡¯ll bring some food up for you.¡± Celina stood up and stretched her stiff limbs as she stifled a yawn. ¡°I¡¯m right next door, so just call out if you need anything. And Stroud¡­¡± she added offhandedly as she moved toward the door, ¡°...Do show some kindness to Maeve when she returns. The girl has been so consumed by guilt that she has scarcely slept or eaten in the three days since your injury.¡±

    His puzzled frown in reply didn¡¯t seem to inspire much confidence in Celina, but she didn¡¯t press the matter and soon departed.

    Shep returned his blank gaze to the bare ceiling.

    ¡°Stroud¡­¡± he uttered out loud after a few minutes. He repeated this action a number of times as he tasted the name, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. He quickly found that he rather liked it. And not solely because of the new start that it represented.

    No. Shep liked the name because he admired the young man he had inherited it from. It hadn¡¯t taken long to sift through the departed boy¡¯s memories.

    The original Stroud was far superior to himself. He was brave, and he lived with conviction and confidence in himself despite everything this world had thrown at him.

    Orphaned at a young age, he was eventually sold off by a greedy caretaker to a slaver. In his new master¡¯s care, he was quickly labeled as a piece of worthless baggage. He was frail and weak ¡ª not suited for labor. And neither was he pretty enough to catch the interest of the more perverted patrons.

    The master incessantly whipped and berated him for his incompetence.

    As Stroud grew older, he took it upon himself to look out for the younger children who were bought or kidnapped. Making sure they were healthy and at least somewhat well-fed, even at his own expense.

    It wasn¡¯t until the slaver entered the northern reaches of the Tristan Principality, on the turn of Stroud¡¯s 10th year, that his life finally changed for the better.

    The master had grown complacent after years of successful bribery and extortion, failing to take heed of the rumors of Baron Marwood¡¯s righteous personality. While making his way to the small town of Ebbinside, seeking some hearty slaves, the master was beset by the Baron and his men, eventually falling victim to a knight¡¯s blade.

    Stroud and the scant few slaves who still remained were set free. The younger ones were taken to an orphanage in the town of Magend, but they claimed he was too old. Undesirable.

    This left the Baron in a bit of a predicament. The man couldn¡¯t bring himself to abandon this scarred and steely-eyed child who was too weak for farmwork, but neither did he want to personally shoulder the responsibility of his upbringing.

    Eventually, a compromise was struck when they returned to his estate. The head maid of his manor took an interest in the boy. She and her late husband had always wanted a child but were never able to conceive.

    Celina took Stroud in and raised him as her own; teaching him etiquette and how to read and write ¡ª so that he may serve the Baron when he came of age.

    Stroud quickly developed tremendous respect for Celina. She never brought up his past or took care to give him special treatment. She showed him unbiased love; and most importantly, gave him hope for a future that he could decide.

    That was all he wanted. All he needed.

    Stroud. He was everything that Shep wasn¡¯t in his past life. But then again, Shep had grown much in his time as a wandering soul: developing his ability to endure, along with a steadfast belief in himself.

    As Shep thought more about it, he was able to find an increasing number of similarities between his current self and the departed Stroud.

    The wild ambition of two men began to blend together inside the dark servant¡¯s quarters.

    Shep was ready to shed the shell of his former self and truly become something new. Something more.

    ¡°Stroud¡­¡± he muttered one final time, feeling his soul shiver and writhe with glee.

    Then, all at once, a wave of exhaustion washed over him and he promptly fell asleep.

 Chapter 2

    Stroud was roused in the morning by a soft rapping on his door. He rolled over, squinting his eyes as the first rays of sunlight crept above his windowsill and scattered through the room, broken up by the lattice covering the narrow pane.

    ¡°¡ªCome in!¡± he announced breathlessly after thoroughly quenching his thirst with the leftover water from the previous night.

    Celina strode inside at his call, wearing a plain grey dress with her hair tied up in a neat bun. She carried a tray of food with her, supporting some lightly buttered toast and sliced fruit.

    ¡°Breakfast in bed!¡± a deep and merry voice rumbled behind her, ¡°If only my wife would spoil me so¡­¡±

    ¡°Even if she would, I would never allow it.¡± Celina quipped, rolling her eyes as she placed down the tray atop a small dresser tucked in the corner of the room.

    Baron Marwood laughed heartily as he stood in the door frame. ¡°I think that¡¯s exactly why she hired you all those years ago!¡±

    Stroud flinched back from the bombardment of noise and enthusiasm, shrinking further into his bed as the Baron¡¯s rather large presence quickly filled the small servant¡¯s quarters.

    ¡°Maybe so¡­¡± Celina smiled knowingly. ¡°But let¡¯s be on with it, my Liege. The prince¡¯s agent should be arriving shortly.¡±

    Baron Marwood¡¯s face contorted into a dark scowl. He didn¡¯t speak any further as he rolled up the sleeves of his pine green doublet and sat in the chair beside Stroud¡¯s bed.

    Moving lightly, he pulled down the heavy wool blanket and placed a hand over Stroud¡¯s exposed gut. There was a lengthy, jagged wound marring the otherwise soft and pale skin. It reached up from just below his navel all the way to his ribcage, almost like someone had tried to slice him in half from the waist up.

    Stroud sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he saw the injury for the first time. His memories of the event that had left him in such a sorry state were hazy and disjointed at best. But as he strained himself to recall, they flitted through his mind like the projection from an old movie reel.

    He saw flashes of Maeve. Her long red hair billowing in the wind. A defiant smirk was plastered on her face as she stretched her arms out wide.

    She spoke to a man. A gaunt man with blotchy skin and curly black hair.

    He sat atop a dark steed, gazing down upon the vague silhouettes gathered behind the girl with contempt. The air around him seemed to bend and flow at his will, leaving the onlookers cowed.

    Only Maeve had stepped forward to confront him, while Stroud hung just a tad behind her.

    The man grew increasingly upset the longer he argued with Maeve. Spittle and curses spewed from his mouth as he raged. And right when it seemed as if he¡¯d had enough and sought to depart, the man suddenly turned back. In the ensuing moment, he gathered the wind around him into his palm and sliced his arm through the air with a devious glint in his cold, deep-set eyes.

    Reacting on instinct, Stroud jumped in front of Maeve to intercept the gleaming blade of verdant light that the man had shot forth. It connected with his body, but surprisingly, he felt no pain. In fact... it was warm?

    Stroud¡¯s mind entered a state of utter confusion as he sank to his knees. The dream world around him slowly drained of color, until all that was left was the bright crimson guts and blood spilling into his hands.

    So why was he feeling warm? It should¡¯ve been cold as his life slipped away...

    ¡°...Stroud. Stroud¡ª!¡± The Baron¡¯s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

    With wide eyes, Stroud looked down again at the wicked scar, feeling a blissful warmth spreading through his stomach as the vibrant green glow that poured forth from the Baron¡¯s hands seeped into his skin.

    Magic. There was no other way to explain the phenomena he was currently witnessing.

    It was not a completely foreign concept to him. Both Shep and the previous iteration of Stroud were familiar with it to varying extents. To the former, it was the thing of fairy tales, but to the latter, it was a very real existence. One to be feared.

    The men and women who wielded it did so with near impunity. And they cared not for pitiful existences like himself. At least, that was the impression of Magi Stroud had. He viewed the Baron as more of an exception to the rule than the norm.

    Many times, he had seen the few Magi that dealt with the slaver exert their power on a whim. And the same could be said of the principality official that had lashed out at Maeve with a spell.

    It¡¯s all in the past¡­ Emotions churning, Stroud forced himself to take a deep breath so that he wouldn¡¯t spiral downward into those particular memories again.

    Instead, he thought about the mystical aurora of energy he had seen inundating this galaxy.

    Was magic a direct result of its presence...?

    Unfortunately, Stroud wasn¡¯t afforded the time to think upon the topic at length.

    ¡°There. All done!¡± Baron Marwood exclaimed as he clapped his hands. Sweat dribbled down the man¡¯s forehead and he looked quite weary, but a jovial grin had graced his pudgy features once more. ¡°It went much better this time,¡± he said, glancing over at Celina.

    ¡°Wonderful! I¡¯m glad to hear it.¡± Celina clasped her hands in front of her chest and shot Stroud a meaningful look.

    He picked up on it quickly and dipped his head as he addressed the Baron, suppressing his unease and embarrassment, ¡°Thank you, my Liege. I will do everything I can to repay you for your generous care.¡±

    This manner of speaking was unfamiliar to the present Stroud, but it was deeply engraved into his predecessor¡¯s bones. He had showered his Lord¡¯s family with flowery words for four long years, and the master his entire life before that.

    Even now, as a servant, his rung on the social ladder was not all that much different than a slave¡¯s. In a time period like this, freedom didn''t afford the young much flexibility in their life choices when their access to knowledge was so limited. Stroud recognized these facts clearly, but he still loathed the ease with which subservience had promptly arisen within himself.

    Nevertheless, he had a role to play while he was in the care of the Baron. And reflecting honestly, his current position was rather suitable for himself. He¡¯d always had a tendency to fade into the background...

    ¡°Repay me?¡± Baron Marwood scoffed, startling Stroud as he slapped his knee. ¡°It is I who still owes you. You saved my precious daughter¡¯s life. My debt will not be repaid until I make sure the official who wounded you is left to rot in a dungeon.¡±

    Out of the corner of his eye, Stroud saw Celina draw her mouth into a thin line. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°I am already satisfied, my Liege. Everyone is safe, and that is all I can ask for.¡± Stroud knew why his adopted mother was worried. The only way the Baron would see that official punished ¡ª was if he had the strength to enact the sentencing himself. Exacerbating the issue would only lead to future troubles for house Marwood.

    ¡°Then you are a better man than I am¡­¡± Baron Marwood sighed. The man¡¯s clear eyes gazed deeply at him for a long breath. But in the face of such an intense and inquiring stare, Stroud didn¡¯t allow his gracious smile to waver in the slightest. ¡°Very well. I will not pursue this matter too assiduously, for the time being. If there is another way I can make it up to you, just let me know.¡±

    Stroud nodded, and in the moment of silence that followed, Celina swooped in.

    ¡°Here.¡± She placed the tray of food down in his lap. ¡°You still need to eat well and rest if you are to recover your strength.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mother.¡± Stroud waited patiently for Celina to usher the Baron out of the room before he dug into the meal. He hadn¡¯t realized just how hungry he was until the sweet and buttery smells wafting upward had tickled his appetite.

    Lost in the pleasure of food after so long, he paid little mind to the new visitor who had poked her head into the room.

    ¡°S-Stroud?¡± A hesitant query finally reached his ears as he devoured the last piece of toast and licked his fingers clean, still greedy for more.

    His gaze flickered over to the doorway where he saw Maeve wringing her hands as she chewed on her lower lip. Stroud kept his voice level as he replied, ¡°Yes? What can I help you with, Miss Marwood?¡±

    Maeve frowned as she heard his conventional address. He knew that she preferred speaking openly and informally with each other, but no matter how much she pestered him to drop it ¡ª he never would.

    For one, Celina would be irate if she found out. She was insistent upon remaining professional at all times. And furthermore, Stroud had never seen himself as her equal.

    She was a Baron¡¯s daughter, destined to immerse herself in the world of the Arcane. Maeve would amass her own power and influence, achieving great things. Whereas he... he would have been considered lucky to even make his way into the ranks of the Marwood¡¯s knights. The weak body he¡¯d been born with still hounded him to this day.

    Thus, until a time came that Stroud felt he was deserving of standing on equal footing ¡ª she would always be the young Miss Marwood. His renewed aspiration told him such a day would come, so he was content to wait until then.

    ¡°Stroud?¡± she asked again. ¡°Can¡­ C-Can you forgive me?¡±

    Stroud met her gaze, causing her to flinch. But even so, she didn¡¯t look away.

    ¡°I already have,¡± he replied, gently.

    ¡°Do you really mean it?¡± Maeve¡¯s thin brows furrowed as she tucked her hands behind her back.

    ¡°How could I even be angry with you?¡± Stroud sighed. ¡°You were only standing up for your people. I can find no fault in that.¡±

    ¡°B-But I¡ª!¡±

    He cut the girl off with a pointed look before she could spiral any further into self-loathing. ¡°That official¡¯s greed and lust were plain for all to see. After failing in his coercion, he was merely looking for an excuse to vent his frustrations.¡±

    Maeve looked away, attempting to discreetly wipe her wettened cheeks. ¡°Still¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Stroud.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m humbled by your kindness, Miss Marwood.¡± Stroud allowed a sly smile to creep onto his face.

    When Maeve saw it, she stamped her foot in anger. ¡°You¡ª! Do you take my apology as some kind of joke?¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± Stroud chuckled, his gaze softening in the next moment. ¡°But it pains me to see you saddened, Madam. Please, do not allow the events of the other day to cast a shadow over your heart. And know... that I truly do not place any of the blame upon you.¡±

    The fiery-haired girl puffed out her cheeks, whimpering pitifully. ¡°Thanks¡­ I¡¯m really glad you¡¯re okay¡­¡± Maeve blushed before darting out of the room in a hurry, leaving her grief lingering in the air behind her.

    ***

    In the weeks that followed, Stroud continued his recovery as the estate settled back into a peaceful lull.

    Each morning and evening, Celina would bring him his meals, filling him in on the manor¡¯s affairs while making sure that he kept up with his studies.

    She too had realized long ago that his prospects of becoming a knight were slim; and therefore, directed him towards math and literature in hopes that he may fulfill an administrative role in the barony in the future.

    The original Stroud had never enjoyed such tedious and dull activities, but the new incarnation took to them with considerable enthusiasm. He did so because ¡ª despite inheriting all of this body¡¯s memories ¡ª there was still a certain lethargy and spontaneity to his ability to access them. In which case, he felt it was best to paint a fresh picture of the world around him in his mind. It also didn¡¯t hurt that he was limited to his bed, so there wasn¡¯t much else to distract himself with.

    Celina was enthused by his newfound passion and happily continued to pass him books from the Baron¡¯s study upon his request. And Baron Marwood, still weighed down by his feelings of guilt and regret, was more than willing to oblige.

    All in all, Stroud was exceedingly pleased by the arrangements. It served as a smooth adjustment period for him. He was able to slowly integrate his new knowledge with the old in relative peace, while also growing accustomed to spending his time inside of a living and breathing vessel once more.

    The only bother that ever cropped up was the occasional visit from Maeve. She was an energetic girl ¡ª someone who was easily bored, and Stroud was her only companion in the manor around her age.

    Their backgrounds were too different for them to ever really grow close as friends, but Stroud had always been quiet, making him a great listener in her eyes. And it seemed she consistently had something on her mind to speak about at length.

    But even in these circumstances, there was useful information he could glean from her words; knowledge that one couldn¡¯t pick up from books alone. So he patiently lent her an ear, feeling his body and mind recovering rapidly with each passing day¡­

    ***

    It was another night Stroud sat in his bed, sinking deep into his thoughts as a cold wind blew in through his open window. His eyelids bore the weight of a day¡¯s exhaustion as he leaned back against the stiff headboard. But sleep would not come to him any time soon.

    He was restless. With his rehabilitation nearing its end, anxiety had begun crawling through his body in the vacancy of pain and exhaustion. Ignorance was truly bliss because for once, Stroud felt like he knew too much.

    There were many old questions left festering inside the emotional wounds plaguing his soul, and many new ones were constantly swimming through the back of his mind.

    This world ¡ª or the Terram Vagari as the inhabitants called it ¡ª felt so surreal. There were humans here, and a culture that was distinctly familiar in many aspects, albeit of a medieval era. Too many connections for him to ignore the events and society around him and only devote himself to his pursuit of reconciling his past in the afterlife.

    Stroud felt trapped almost. Like he had landed inside another box. He wanted to believe that he had escaped the Guiding Hand that managed the affairs of the departed souls¡­ but it felt more like he had broken free only to return to the boundaries of its domain. Even with the fresh breath of life filling his lungs, he could still feel its presence festering inside him like a cancerous tumor once removed that was now ready to once again rear its ugly head.

    As a soul, he had been fortunate to subvert the Hand''s notice long enough to escape. But if died again... would he be so lucky a second time? Stroud shuddered. The presence of higher beings that manage the afterlife aside, the worry that had taken root inside of him the deepest was something much more simple: How did he wind up in the Chasm in the first place? He had no memories from death to arrival.

    How did they filter the souls, determining who ends up where?

    What if he died again, but was instead sent directly to the river of souls, having his memory wiped?

    Questions like those sent Stroud''s mind tumbling into an abyss and he was only able to pull himself out at the last moment for one reason: At least here, something existed in defiance. The energy he had seen. Magic.

    It could subvert the Hand''s will to some degree, and he would do whatever it takes to grasp that power. But he had to stay alive in the process. Death was too great a risk.

    ¡°Soon¡­¡± Stroud muttered to himself as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. With great effort and the nightstand as support, he pushed himself up into a standing position.

    The muscles in his stomach beneath the ghastly scar twisted and squirmed in protest, but he held strong, gritting his teeth. Stroud took his time, exhaling a series of long and deep breaths before he walked with halting steps over to the window hanging above his dresser.

    He gazed out at the twin moons that encroached upon each other in the night sky. One pale and full of craters, the other smooth, exuding a warm and youthful amber light.

    Orena and Naleen. The sisters that embody the old and the new ¡ª or the beginning and the end, as some scholars preferred to phrase it. Life and death.

    In a few days, their paths would intersect, heralding the coming of a new season.

    Summer.

    At that time, Stroud would emerge to seek his answers.

 Chapter 3

    Every morning, the servants of the Marwood estate emptied from their domicile, scurrying about the grounds to see to it that their duties were completed. The groundskeepers worked the gardens and the lawn, while the housekeepers maintained the central manor and occasionally cleaned the barracks. Only a few ¡ª such as Chef Oren and Celina ¡ª had special roles.

    In the past, Stroud worked with the grounds crew. He liked tending to the plants, and he could use his duties as an excuse to sneak over to the training grounds to watch the knights go about their drills. He was pitied by many, so the work assigned to him was never too intensive.

    Those first years after his adoption were kind to him. Simple.

    But life would never remain stagnant for long. Fate moved without care or conscience, and time¡­ time would see an end to all things good ¡ª as Stroud knew well.

    After his injury, he was suddenly thrust into the ranks of the chosen few. Baron Marwood made the decision to assign Stroud as Maeve¡¯s personal attendant to reward his loyalty.

    It represented an elevation in status, but also in scrutiny. Both Celina and the Baron were paying him more attention, albeit to greatly varying degrees.

    In the weeks following his reemergence, Stroud was subjected to an intensive round of lectures on court etiquette at the hands of his mother. He also had to begin taking riding lessons, learn how to drive the carriage, and attend to a whole plethora of bothersome things which detracted from the time he could spend pursuing his newfound objective: learning more about magic.

    Suffice to say, he was not pleased with his new role. But he kept his head down and worked hard, and eventually, new doors were opened to him.

    At the end of the summer, Maeve began formally studying Arcana, preparing for her transition into adulthood and apprenticeship.

    She was self-taught, in a sense. Neither the Baron nor the other Magus working for the Marwood''s, Landon, was around or had the spare time to provide her with introductory lessons before she actually began cultivation. There was also no possibility of hiring an outside Magus to serve as a tutor as their services were much too expensive for a minor noble house.

    Instead, she could only rely on the books gathered over the years by her family; which were limited in both scope and breadth, considering their availability to the general public. And as a result, Maeve quickly grew frustrated with her task.

    Her whole life, she always had someone like Celina at her side to assist her with all she needed, and the girl also suffered from a lack of general patience. Thus, without a supporting hand at her back, she was like a small boat adrift in a stormy sea. She gave her best to navigate the turbulent waters of information, but try as she may, the task appeared too daunting. The waves of confusion relentlessly battered her. She was completely lost.

    Without anyone else to turn to, she looked to Stroud. And he quickly became her beacon of hope ¡ª an island to anchor herself to.

    As for his part, Stroud was more than willing to participate in her studies as a tolerant confidant. He read through the passages with her, absorbing the information voraciously while copying two sets of notes: one for her and one set for himself.

    In his mind, pursuing anything unrelated to Arcana was an ineffective way to spend his time, so he acted accordingly. He prepared ahead of the study sessions, planning explanations and activities in order to extend their work as long as possible. It was his priority to eke out as much time with the books as he could while no one would pester him to sweep the hall or practice serving tea.

    And for a long while, he managed just that. The days flowing smoothly by as the winds inevitably took on a chill and the earth grew cold and hard.

    It wasn¡¯t until the first snowfall ¡ª after the third Lunar Crossing of the year ¡ª that Stroud¡¯s schedule began to take on another significant change.

    ***

    Back straight. Head level. Eyes forward.

    Just as Celina had taught him.

    Stroud pushed open the heavy double-wide doors of the manor house and strode inside.

    He walked through the vaulted entryway with all the poise and elegance befitting his position as a special servant of the Marwood household, only pausing once to pull off his gloves and briefly glance over the neatly arranged antique furniture. After confirming that all was as it should be, he nodded to the familiar housekeeper dusting off a bust of the late patriarch, Christopher Marwood.

    ¡°Stroud! What brings you here today?¡± the elderly woman probed, a bit too enthusiastically to come across as a casual question.

    Stroud dipped his head politely, taking no offense. To find him walking outside of Maeve¡¯s shadow could be considered an unusual sight indeed.

    ¡°I am here for an appointment with Baron Marwood and steward Landon. My 15th birthday has just passed a few days ago,¡± he clarified.

    Birthdays in the Terram Vagari didn¡¯t have much cultural significance. People were generally healthier ¡ª including babies and young children ¡ª thanks to the mysterious energy pervading the atmosphere. And those who had an appropriate aptitude to harness it could live for hundreds of years if they grew powerful enough.

    Still, not all birthdays lacked meaning. There were a few considered major turning points in everyone¡¯s lives, one of them being the 15th. It was generally accepted that one¡¯s mind and body could finally be considered mature or well-developed enough to begin cultivating their energy centers. Namely, the Sea of Nura and the Spirit Locus.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± the housekeeper mused, appearing somewhat disappointed as she turned back to her work. ¡°Then I wish you luck,¡± she added offhandedly.

    Stroud tutted inwardly as he bid her farewell. Shouldn¡¯t Maud be getting on with her retirement? The woman held nary a sliver of arcane energy within her body and she had to be nearing her late 60s based on her looks. Clearly, her life was approaching its end; yet, she insisted on continuing to clean the main hall, day after day, so that she could gather gossip from the comers and goers.

    He wanted to warn her, to scream out that she should cherish what little time she had left, and spend it meaningfully. How could she be so complacent?

    But wasn¡¯t I the same once¡­. Stroud sighed as he began his tromp up the wide, imperial staircase to the second floor, taking the steps two at a time. He knew better than to spend his effort interfering in the personal affairs of others. Stroud firmly believed that he only needed to focus on himself and continue to advance.

    Determination burned in his chest, and when he reached the landing at the top of the stairs, he turned left, working his way up another staircase towards the western wing where the Baron¡¯s study was located.

    Running his hand across the length of the railing as he walked, Stroud temporarily immersed himself in feeling the gloss of the polished wood beneath his fingers. He inhaled the damp, musty smell hanging between the walls and he listened to the softly echoing whispers of the other servants as they moved about their business...

    Despite having spent almost half a year in this world, he still reveled in the most mundane of sensations. Simple things, like the morning bird calls or the gentle caress of a warm breeze, sent calming waves through his heart.

    He knew well enough now not to take a single moment for granted. Every second needed to be squeezed dry for all it was worth ¡ª because he was still a long way from beginning to scratch the surface of the truth.

    The journey here would be far more arduous in many ways than his time in the Chasm, Stroud continued to reflect. This world was fraught with peril; he needed focus, determination, and likely a bit of luck if he was to accomplish all that he desired.

    And he would never¡­ never¡­ allow himself to return to that pit of unfathomable darkness and despair again.

    Stroud took a deep breath to calm himself as he stood outside the study door. He knocked twice, fixing his face into a pleasant smile.

    ¡°Come in,¡± the muffled voice of the Baron sounded from inside.

    ¡°Good afternoon, my Liege. I hope this day finds you in good health ¡ª despite the foul weather.¡± Stroud bowed formally as he entered and then inclined his head to the other man seated next to the Baron. ¡°And to you as well, Sir Landon. I¡¯m glad we finally have the chance to formally meet.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    He took a quick glance around as the men turned their full attention towards him.

    The study was a rather small but cozy room. Tall bookcases framed by ornate wood trimmings wrapped around the space, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The Baron and Landon sat in leather armchairs at one end of the room, flanked by a crackling fireplace, while Stroud stood near an unoccupied desk that he seemed to garner a lot of use. A multitude of ink stains, scratches, and chips in the earthy wood scarred its surface.

    Baron Marwood was the first to reply to Stroud¡¯s greeting, ¡°I¡¯m doing well, my boy. Doing well indeed. Though it is true that this snowfall is shaping up to be a nasty one.¡±

    ¡°Fate is always fickle that way,¡± Landon chuckled dryly. ¡°It is always the poorest of harvests that yield the harshest of winters.¡±

    The Baron groaned, massaging his temple. ¡°...No need to remind me. Part of the reason I gathered us at this busy hour was to avoid speaking with Celina about these troublesome matters.¡±

    Landon shook his head and turned his attention back to Stroud, pushing his spectacles up his nose as he spoke, ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you as well. I don¡¯t wish to breach any sore memories, but I would like you to know that it has been my sincerest regret that I wasn¡¯t here to deal with that deplorable official in your place.¡±

    The blond-haired man spoke with a cordiality unbefitting his position, but his gaze was as sharp as one might expect. Stroud knew he was being measured. And he needed to demonstrate his value if he was to receive what he wanted.

    ¡°Please, do not concern yourself with such things. No man can be everywhere at once. And your duties are of great importance. I only wish you to have peace of mind in your work.¡±

    Landon was someone Celina spoke well of quite frequently, and he was said to share the same forthright nature as Baron Marwood. If only to mask his shrewdness, Stroud detected. But more important than his character was his status. The man was an official Magus and the fiefdom¡¯s liaison in the principality¡¯s capital.

    It was likely that he had access to the most information of anyone at the manor, so he was at the top of Stroud¡¯s list of people to get in the good graces of.

    ¡°I see Celina has taught you well,¡± Landon smiled wryly.

    ¡°Too well,¡± the Baron added with a snort. ¡°But enough with the pleasantries. Stroud, I¡¯ve already warned you that aeditari will be difficult ¡ª if not downright impossible ¡ª given the lingering effects of your injury. Without an intact Sea to accumulate Nura, there is no future in cultivation for you.

    Hidden deep within Baron Marwood¡¯s hardened gaze, there was a hint of profound sadness. Stroud knew the man wasn¡¯t trying to discourage him or put him down. No, the Baron was just letting him know the harsh reality of the situation.

    ¡°...I would still like to know my affinities,¡± Stroud spoke slowly, but neither Landon nor the Baron was put off by his hesitation or request. ¡°It should be useful information, regardless; and my Spirit Locus yet remains intact. Thus, with the assistance of external resources, I should still be capable of casting a spell or two in times of peril.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Then let us proceed. Landon, if you would¡­?¡± The Baron gestured at the man sitting beside him.

    ¡°Of course. It would be my honor to do the reading for the young hero.¡± Landon reached down for the dark leather satchel resting next to his chair. His hand fumbled around inside for a moment before he procured a small lockbox.

    With a pleasant click, the latch sprung open, revealing five finger-sized gemstones of varying color. Scanning from left to right, Stroud paid careful attention to the aura of each crystal; they all had a distinct presence, evoking subtle feelings as they resonated with his soul.

    ¡°We¡¯ll start here,¡± Landon announced, holding up the prismatic stone that shimmered with multiple hues. One moment it emanated heat, the next a biting chill, and so on. Compared to the others, it was much more scattered in nature. Versatile.

    A flash of muted light burst from the steward¡¯s hand as the gem leaped into the air to hover in front of Stroud. Seeming to contain a life of its own, it dipped and ducked, twirling around his body like a precocious little sparrow.

    After only a few seconds, it withdrew back into Landon¡¯s grasp where he inspected it carefully. ¡°Low elemental affinity,¡± he remarked in a neutral tone, to which the Baron nodded.

    Stroud frowned subtlety. Anything below an average affinity meant the person would be incapable of gathering enough Nura to advance as a Magus. They would be forever trapped in the ranks of an Apprentice.

    Next up was the transparent gemstone ¡ª which more closely resembled glass than a mineral extracted directly from the earth. Gleefully, it darted around Stroud, filling him with a sense of raw, unadulterated power. In addition, he thought he could hear a low buzz emitting from it. Quickly, the noise captured more of his attention, increasing steadily in intensity and tempo as his heart raced faster and faster to keep up.

    Blood roared in Stroud¡¯s ears as the chorus reached a fevered pitch; and all at once, his mind, body, and soul shuddered in the wake of a silent shockwave of energy.

    As Stroud recovered, he saw the gem plummet to the floor.

    Baron Marwood sprung to his feet, an indecipherable mix of emotion flashing across his face as Landon hunched down to retrieve the crystal.

    ¡°Supreme Primal affinity,¡± the steward¡¯s voice was low, almost reaching a whisper. He pulled out a quill and some parchment from his bag to make a note.

    ¡°Ah... excuse my outburst,¡± Baron Marwood chuckled dryly as he sat back down, sinking low in the chair. ¡°Let¡¯s press on.¡±

    The following trials only continued to further astound the two men, Stroud noted. It was found that he had an above-average affinity for both the Malignant and Sanctus Disciplines of Arcana. And finally, an average resonance with the Conspiris crystal rounded out the results.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s about everything, Stroud,¡± Landon spoke with trembling hands as he locked up the case and tucked it away.

    Taking note of the tense glances the Baron was exchanging with his steward, Stroud felt it necessary to dismiss himself from the room. He had acquired the information he desired, and there wasn¡¯t much left to be said.

    Now, he could only hope they would value his potential and strive to find a suitable healer for him.

    ¡°Thank you both for playing along with my selfish request. I should be getting back to my duties.¡±

    ¡°R-Right... pass on my regards to Celina.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Baron Marwood¡¯s breathing was growing heavy as replied. ¡°Send Maeve my way when you see her.¡±

    ¡°It shall be done, my Liege.¡±

    Upon receiving an acknowledgment from the Baron, he bowed and ducked out of the room with haste. As the door closed softly behind him, Stroud finally allowed the broad grin that had been building in his chest to creep onto his face.

    The results are much better than I anticipated¡­

    Affinities were supposed to be derived from the ¡®inclination and strength of an individual''s body and spirit in relation to the core competencies of a Discipline¡¯ ¡ª as described by the Magister who had written the Fundamentals of Arcana textbook Stroud had been working through with Maeve.

    Therefore, disregarding his bloodline, he had suspected that his affinities may end up scattered all over the place due to devouring so many souls.

    And while it was true that they were ¡ª his spirit seemed to have accumulated quite a bit of power to compensate for that. The final result was that he would excel in 3 of the 5 major Disciplines of Arcana. And that left Stroud with plentiful opportunities...

    ***

    ¡°Landon¡­ are you positive that those resonance crystals are working properly.¡±

    ¡°Of that I am certain. I checked them personally just before the meeting.¡±

    Baron Marwood¡¯s chest heaved up and down as he stewed in impotent rage. ¡°That damned official¡ª! I swear I will see him dead by my own hands!¡±

    Landon sighed, still attempting to ease the quaking of his heart. ¡°Walter, you must erase those notions from your mind. Prince Ajax would see you under the headsman¡¯s ax should you lay a finger on that man.¡±

    Walter Marwood stilled, the armrest of his chair splintering under his white-knuckled grip. ¡°Then you¡¯ve completed the investigation, I take it?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. The man is known as Falke of Fairvault, and he is one of the most accomplished commoners to emerge from the Nenean Trials since your father. Before the age of 25, he has managed to advance his Spirit Locus to the edge of the second layer and completed the first major Cycle in his Sea in its entirety. You know as well as I do that Ajax values talent above all else and will not abide by anything that complicates his upcoming campaign for Redenia''s throne. Falke is likely to receive a title of nobility should he complete the next major Cycle and become a fully-fledged 2nd Order Magus before 30.¡± Landon pulled out the full report he had prepared and handed it over to the Baron.

    Walter only needed to spare it a quick glance to see the long list of Falke¡¯s transgressions. ¡°If talent is all he wants, then surely he would favor Stroud over this capricious man!¡±

    ¡°While beneficial in many ways, the strength of one¡¯s affinities does not equate to true talent in cultivation, Walter.¡±

    Baron Marwood stood up, pacing about the room as he spoke, ¡°You can still say that after meeting the boy? He is steadfast. And mature well beyond his years.¡±

    Landon followed the Baron back and forth with eyes, but his expression remained neutral. ¡°That¡­ I can agree with. But the fact still remains that his Sea is crippled.¡±

    ¡°Gah¡ª! If only my spells were more suited for the healing of others¡­ This is driving me mad!¡± The Baron clenched fistfuls of his thick, russet hair.

    ¡°If you can say that ¡ª imagine how the boy must be feeling.¡± Landon''s tone was sour.

    Walter instantly deflated upon hearing those words. ¡°...Is there nothing we can do?¡±

    Landon hesitated. ¡°I¡¯ve asked around with my contacts in the capital, but healers are scarce up here in the north. They¡¯re well-received anywhere they go, so why wouldn¡¯t they travel south, into Redenia proper ¡ª where the climate is more temperate and the resources more abundant¡­¡±

    The Baron slumped down into a chair at the table. ¡°Enough, enough... I get it,¡± he said as he waved a hand weakly, ¡°Do you think it worthwhile to broaden our search?¡±

    ¡°I think we should wait until after Maeve¡¯s reading. It¡¯s only a few weeks until her birthday, and it won¡¯t be too late afterward to stake it all on Stroud.¡±

    Walter frowned. ¡°I at least owe it to the boy to try, Landon. I do not wish to end up becoming a man like the prince who treats his subjects as tools.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I apologize for those callous words. I¡¯ve been spending so much time in the circles of the capital that I have a tendency to forget myself. I¡¯ll send out feelers into the kingdom as soon as possible.¡± The steward marked down another note.

    ¡°Good. And may the gods finally bless us with some fortune¡­¡±

 Chapter 4

    Stroud drummed his fingers lazily atop the makeshift desk he had built from the old crates in his room. Currently strewn in front of him were all the notes he¡¯d written on the Disciplines of Arcana, derived from his meager selection of readings.

    ¡®My clearest advantage lies in my supreme affinity with Primal magics. However, that doesn¡¯t tell me which subcategory within that field I should pursue...¡¯

    Just like how those with an Elemental affinity tended to specialize in a single element, Primal attuned Magi would want to prioritize one of the three divisions within their Discipline: Evocation, Abjuration, or Invocation.

    There were methods to further test his affinity with each one, but they required expensive consumable resources and there was no chance the Baron would purchase them on his behalf.

    ¡®But before I should even consider that, there are still many hurdles to cross.¡¯

    The most obvious of which was his damaged Sea of Nura.

    Stroud¡¯s mouth plunged into a grim frown.

    Based on his current understanding of the power confluences of Magi, he was doomed without it ¡ª just as Baron Marwood had said.

    Located below the navel, the Sea of Nura served as the furnace through which Magi fueled their spells. Through many diverse methods of meditation ¡ª or aeditari as its widely known ¡ª one would draw in the ambient arcane energy suffusing the atmosphere and store it in their Sea where it undergoes processing to eventually settle as concentrated essence, Nura. The Nura is then channeled into the Spirit Locus in the brain where it invokes stored spell imprints, allowing Magi to disregard lengthy incantations or the use of external materials.

    Thus, even if it was possible for Stroud to engrave spells in his Spirit Locus, without any Nura stored within his body, he couldn¡¯t truly call himself a Magus. And that was only the beginning of his problems.

    As someone of a common background, he was severely limited in his access to runes, sigils, and all of the other advanced knowledge related to spell models and their casting.

    He could be certain that the Baron likely had some, but most groups and individuals ¡ª especially among the nobility ¡ª were very particular about who they shared those types of resources with. There was often a legacy attributed to them, and no sane person would willingly share their advantages and inheritance with outsiders.

    To counteract the hoarding of information and suppress the discontent of the masses after a long and bloody rebellion in the Empire, various schools of arcane learning, known as the Arca Disciplinariums or Arcaniums, had been founded. They were scattered all across the Draimor Empire, and in an even greater number within the northern vassal states such as Redenia. Ideally, he would enter one and absorb all the knowledge therein before moving on.

    In fact, that was precisely what people with a status similar to his own often did. Following the signing of the Accords of Nenea a few centuries past, people of all backgrounds could gain admittance to the Arcaniums, contingent upon passing an exam. Nonetheless, as a cripple, entering into the selections was not a possibility.

    Stroud had a few contingencies set in place that didn¡¯t rely on the Baron¡¯s benevolence, but none of them were particularly ideal. He would need money for a healer ¡ª lots of it.

    ¡®Maybe I should¡ª''

    ¡°Stroud? May I come in?¡± Celina¡¯s voice outside the door interrupted his ruminations.

    ¡°One moment!¡± he called out in reply, shuffling the dry slips of parchment into a neat stack. After tucking them under his mattress and stubbing a toe along the way in his rush, Stroud opened the door for his guest, wincing in pain. It wasn¡¯t that there was anything inherently wrong with what he was researching, but his secrecy was rooted in habit and his wariness of this world.

    ¡°What¡¯s all the fuss?¡± the woman huffed as she entered. ¡°I warned you that I would be visiting this evening.¡± She sat down atop the stool in front of the desk, staring at him intently as he plopped onto the bed.

    ¡°Apologies, Mother. I was sorting through some of my things and didn¡¯t want to leave out a mess.¡±

    ¡°Stroud, you can always speak to me if there¡¯s anything bothering you¡­¡± Celina started, her forehead creasing into lines of worry.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I was only¡­ thinking over the results of my meeting.¡± Stroud sighed as he leaned back against his bed frame.

    ¡°Then I take it there¡¯s no change?¡±

    ¡°None yet.¡± Stroud shook his head. ¡°Though, my affinities were by-in-large very good,¡± he added in a self-deprecating tone.

    Celina¡¯s jaw moved up and down, seeming to chew on her next words before she spoke, ¡°Do not give up hope, Stroud. For all the suffering you have endured, there will be a bright future ahead¡­¡±

    Stroud exhaled a deep breath. This was not the first time Celina had encouraged him so, and it wasn¡¯t something he could fully understand.

    She was the one who always advocated for his studies, and had sought out the Baron to rent the resonance gems for his reading. But why? They lived a generally peaceful life here; wanting for not and serving a humane lord.

    Celina held a degree of sway over matters of the manor and was well-respected by her subordinates and superiors alike. Yet, she seemed the most desperate at times to see him become a Magister.

    Stroud tried his best to hide his inner turmoil, but the woman saw right through him.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡±

    ¡°...Why?¡± Stroud uttered, his voice coming out hoarse.

    ¡°What mother wouldn¡¯t want the best for her child?¡± she asked rhetorically, picking up on his meaning. ¡°Magisters are the ones who stand at the pinnacle of society, and no longer is their ascension restricted by birthright. You have the opportunity to become someone who stands on equal footing with the Baron ¡ª or to even elevate your status further!¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Celina stood up and moved over to Stroud. She next down next to his bed and took his hands into her own. ¡°The kingdom needs more good men like you. I don''t wish to simply fill your head with fanciful thoughts. I really believe that you will achieve great things if you put your mind to it. This injury will not be where your road ends.¡±

    ¡°...I am not someone as kind and gracious as Baron Marwood,¡± Stroud whispered, turning his head away from Celina¡¯s burning gaze.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. You are so much more. You possess a determination that he doesn¡¯t. Bravery and poise. Have faith in yourself, Stroud.¡±

    ¡°I do, but¡ª¡±

    Celina¡¯s brow furrowed again as she raised a hand. ¡°No buts. Continue on. Always. And a path will open up. It may not be the one you expect, but never allow yourself to think you are completely out of options.¡±

    ¡®How true that rings¡­¡¯ Stroud sighed inwardly as he nodded resolutely. ¡®If only it didn¡¯t take me an entire lifetime and centuries within the chasm to see the truth of those words.¡¯

    Speaking with his adoptive mother, it was easy to understand why the original Stroud revered the woman. She had a way of instilling confidence and warmth into those around her.

    ¡°Here. Take this,¡± she added as he briefly lost himself in thought. From within her long coat, Celina procured a scroll. She ferried it to him tenderly, as one might when holding a newborn.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Stroud inquired as he carefully received it.

    ¡°It was my husband¡¯s family sigil. Originally, he wanted to pass it down to our child, so that he or she may continue to spread the Aleksander family name¡­ And although that never came to pass, I know he did not want the legacy to die out with him. There is no more suitable candidate than you to take up the mantle.¡±

    Stroud hesitated, looking to her for affirmation before he unfurled the ancient scroll. Celina smiled fondly, giving him a supportive nod.

    All his countless years of emptiness seemed to fade from his mind like the whispers of a forgotten dream. At that moment, naught but anticipation flowed within him. With a racing heart, Stroud pulled the frayed binding loose and allowed the parchment to unravel.

    Inside, there was a complex drawing consisting of interlocking geometric symbols, lines, and curves. His eyes scanned over it, trying to make some sense of the connections but he was entirely unable to. Fortunately, there were some footnotes in the bottom right-hand corner of the page that shed some light on the sigil¡¯s nature.

    Imbuement of Strength

    Tier 1, Invocation

    Runes: Apell, Inda, Vas

    Allows the user to draw power from their Nura for as long as they are able to sustain the spell.

    ¡°It may not seem like much, but with only the strength of an Apprentice ¡ª this sigil allowed Reed to become the most decorated knight serving under the late Baron, Christopher.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it. There is great potential in this spell,¡± Stroud assured Celina after seeing the worry in her eyes. ¡°Are you sure you wish to leave it in my care?¡±

    ¡°You would question my discretion?¡± Celina quipped, sending him a reproachful glare.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Stroud chuckled, pulling the scroll tighter into his embrace. ¡°...Thank you, Mother.¡±

    Celina reached out to run her fingers through his mess of short dark hair as she was so fond of, combing it into a neat and somewhat presentable shape. ¡°There is no need to thank me, Stroud. I only ask that you don¡¯t hesitate to speak with me about your concerns.¡±

    ¡°I will¡­¡± He couldn¡¯t help but cast his eyes away. Her affection was almost too much to bear.

    ¡°Good. Now I¡¯ll allow you some time alone to puzzle over the sigil and whatever other notes you were just working on before I interrupted.¡± Celina re-adopted her matronly glare as she stood. ¡°But don¡¯t let it distract you from your regular duties. The next week or so will be especially busy with the preparations for the young Madam¡¯s coming-of-age.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll see to it that everything is properly handled.¡± Stroud¡¯s smile was pure, only happiness lingering beneath for maybe the first time since he entered this world.

    He rushed Celina out of the room and immediately returned to his desk to pour over the sigil. His understanding of them could only be considered surface-level at best, but he was enthralled by the profound nature of their existence.

    How could this ¡ª a symbol, allow someone to possess superhuman strength?

    It was unbelievable, even to him who had experienced magic firsthand on multiple occasions. Surely, there must be some other secret to it. One that only the select few were privy to.

    Yet, the proof he held within his hands could not be denied. Celina would never mislead him, and his own readings suggested that it really was as simple as it appeared. Although, appearances could be deceiving. Hidden within the sigils were layers of profound principles that every Magus needed to unravel for themselves.

    And the heart of these truths came down to runes, Stroud knew. Derived from an ancient language used by the first Magi, they represented the various means those pioneers discovered related to manipulating arcane energy. By joining runes together in different combinations to create a sigil, one could cast a proper spell.

    Most of the books Stroud had read seemed to dramatically oversimplify the concept of spellcasting; either glossing over it or forgoing the mention of runes altogether, leaving him with many a headache and unanswered questions.

    However, there was a more pressing matter to concern himself with currently. This was a fully fleshed out sigil in his hands. Capable of translating Nura into a spell. There was no need to dissect it right away. Rather, he wanted to imprint this sigil into his Spirit Locus as soon as possible. It was a strenuous process that could take multiple weeks, or even seasons, and hinged upon the fact that one¡¯s mindscape was properly excavated and prepared beforehand.

    He¡¯d gotten a head start, but Stroud still had a long way to go before the first layer of his mindscape would be wholly cleared. So with that in mind, he settled into a comfortable position and steadied his breathing. His patience and awareness had long been thoroughly tempered as a soul, and with some previous practice, it didn¡¯t take much effort to retract his consciousness into the Spirit Locus.

    It was a center of power for all Magi. Said to be located inside the head ¡ª behind the glabella.

    Stroud had been stunned the first time he entered the space. Was this something only people of this world were born with? Many believed in similar existences to the Sea of Nura and Spirit Locus in his old world. Maybe it was only the presence of arcane energy here that allowed the residents of the Terram Vagari to tap into it directly.

    Unfortunately, Stroud''s current insights only allowed him to make such broad and sweeping conjectures. For now, he could only accept things as they were. Settling his mind, he gazed over the space.

    The mindscape was gray and foggy and shaped like a hemisphere that he looked down upon from a birds-eye view. His objective here was to slowly wipe away the sludge-like mist; like one might do when clearing the fog from a windowpane. But Stroud knew that he couldn¡¯t just proverbially swipe away at will. The process began from the hemisphere¡¯s focal point and proceeded outwards in strictly defined areas of an ever-increasing size that had been designated after generations of intensive study. The end result would look like a diagram of the layers of the atmosphere.

    After taking a second to survey the progress of his work during the past week, Stroud¡¯s consciousness dove down to the point where he¡¯d left off and began to meticulously rub away the viscous fog. He continued long into the night, only stopping once to board up his window and climb into bed after an especially biting winter squall had howled through his room.

    It was with great regret that his time in the Spirit Locus eventually came to an end in the early morning hours. And it wasn¡¯t a choice he had made himself. Rather, his mind could simply no longer bear the strain and lapsed into unconsciousness.

    Stroud smiled faintly as he sunk deep underneath the thick wool blankets laid across his bed.

    After completing his reading and receiving a spell, this day had marked the true first step in his journey ¡ª and there would be many more to come.

 Chapter 5

    The Arcane Tide leading up to the winter solstice was a miraculous event. Spanning the course of an entire week, the atmosphere was flushed with an especially dense and pure surge of arcane energy. Like a cool beverage on a hot summer¡¯s day, it provided a welcome reprieve for the denizens of the Terram Vagari. A short period during which people could shed the bleak veil of winter and revel in life and the burgeoning anticipation of a new year.

    Such a miraculous occasion should have been a cause for celebration. And for many, that was truly the case.

    But those people were considered fools ¡ª persons of low status who were ignorant to the Tide¡¯s true purpose.

    In the great suzerainty of the Draimor Empire that extended into the northern reaches, the tradition was far different for any with relation to a Magus.

    For those who sought to unravel the mysteries of the arcane, the Tide was a period of isolation and reflection. A time to consolidate their year¡¯s worth of efforts and better themselves ¡ª making breakthroughs in their cultivation and understanding.

    Thus, as the Arcane Tide rolled over the Marwood estate, all was quiet. Stroud wished it could stay this way forever, but fate was never so patient. And neither were teenage girls...

    ¡°Damnit¡ª!¡± Stroud¡¯s breath was visible as he huffed out a low curse while pulling on his tall leather boots. He hated the things. They were thick and ugly, and quite ungainly to walk in. But lamentably, he couldn¡¯t avoid wearing them any longer as he would need their protection against the snow.

    Over the past week-and-a-half since his affinity reading, it had continued to accumulate in periodic flurries, nearly reaching up to his knees at its current height. It made traveling back and forth between the manor house and the servants quarters difficult, and the constant chill seeping through the dark stone walls was even more irksome. Though, despite the snow''s many inconveniences, the heavy white blanket covering the land had yielded him many benefits to compensate.

    For one, Stroud¡¯s daily tasks were cut down significantly as everyone hunkered down to ride out the Tide and poor weather. This freed up a lot of extra time to work on excavating his Spirit Locus, which he thoroughly enjoyed. There was something very calming yet invigorating about clearing the fog from his mind, like the first sip of a hot cup of coffee.

    The accumulation was also a very steady process. Akin to working out the body in many ways. It required diligence and effort, leaving him exhausted afterward. But Stroud could feel the progress in a tangible way ¡ª making it all the more addicting.

    His five senses grew sharper and his memory improved. There was no longer a need to take as diligent notes during his reading, and the subtle headaches he would endure after spending long hours studying history or literature were no longer as impairing. Overall, it just significantly improved his quality of life. And what was there not to enjoy about that?

    ¡®It should only be another few days before I can make headway into imprinting the sigil Celina passed me¡­¡¯ Stroud mused as he stood up and tromped over to hooks on his wall where he hung his cloak and a knit cap.

    He had no idea if his progress could be considered quick, but Maeve¡¯s birthday had finally arrived, so he would soon have someone to compare against.

    There wouldn¡¯t be any grand feast or celebration for the occasion due to the weather and disappointing summer harvest, but Stroud had promised to accompany her into Ebbinside after her own affinity reading in the morning. And now, it was just about time for them to meet up.

    Stroud finished getting dressed and waited for a few moments in front of his door, allowing his body to warm up beneath the layers of clothing as he steeled his mind for the barrage of chatter that was sure to come his way.

    ***

    ¡°Stroud! There you are!¡± Maeve waved to him from her seat on the low wall that surrounded the frozen ebonstone fountain in front of the manor. Already waiting next to her was the family carriage drawn by a sturdy dramoth. The large, hairy beast nuzzled its long snout into a snowbank as it snorted impatiently.

    ¡°Good morning, Miss Marwood. I apologize for my tardiness,¡± Stroud called out, bowing from afar.

    Maeve hopped to her feet and trotted over to him; her fur-trimmed cloak rippled in the wind, revealing the bright red dress she wore underneath. Even from afar, he could see her hazel eyes sparkling with glee.

    ¡°It''s okay! The meeting with my father and Landon went faster than I anticipated,¡± she replied as they met halfway. ¡°Can I help you carry anything?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m all right.¡± Stroud shook his head as he shrugged the large pack hanging over his shoulder into a more comfortable position. They would only be going out for an afternoon trip, but Chef Oren had insisted on packing supplies that could last them days.

    Maeve fell into step behind him as he continued over to the carriage to unload. She appeared intent on speaking, fidgeting with the bronze brooch pinned on her chest that depicted a lone, stalwart oak. But it was just as clear that she didn¡¯t know how to approach the topic she had in mind.

    ¡°Is there something bothering you, Miss?¡± Stroud took pity on her and asked.

    The girl let out an exasperated sigh, reducing her speed and widening the gap between them. ¡°Well¡­ aren¡¯t you interested to know how it went?¡±

    ¡°Of course I am.¡± Stroud chuckled as he continued forward, unabated. ¡°But it would be rude of me to pry into your personal affairs.¡±

    Maeve abruptly dashed out in front and held up a hand for him to stop.

    ¡°I give you permission to launch an inquiry, Sir Stroud,¡± she declared in an excessively formal manner. Her hands rested on her hips, and the playful inclination of her chin exuded pride.

    Stroud would be remiss if he didn¡¯t oblige. ¡°I am interested to hear the results of your reading, Miss Marwood.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you ask.¡± Maeve spun around on her heels and marched toward the carriage as her voice drifted over her shoulder, ¡°The outcome was favorable. My Sanctus affinity was well above average, and I retained the Marwood compatibility with the wood element. I think it may even be possible for me to inherit my father¡¯s title instead of my elder brother should I take well to the family¡¯s aeditari method.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only natural, given that the young Madam is so talented.¡± Stroud acknowledged. He knew that Maeve didn¡¯t get along well with her brother. In fact, no one at the manor really did ¡ª so he wasn¡¯t thrown off by her overt intent to snatch the fiefdom.

    The Baron¡¯s wife had spoiled the eldest rotten, resulting in a ¡®lazy and incompetent¡¯ young man as Celina had once so bluntly described him to Stroud.

    Personally, he had nothing against Lord Samm Marwood. Though that was in large part due to their lack of more than a passing meeting. For the past five years, Samm had been attending the small Arcanium for hopeful Magi in the nearby town of Magend, ruled by Viscount Berg.

    Generally, the students would spend nearly the entirety of the year there. Studying and cultivating until they advanced beyond the apprentice ranks. As a result, Samm rarely came back to visit and was rather reclusive when he did.

    ¡°Hah¡ª!¡± Maeve snorted as Stroud slung his hefty bag into the backseat of the carriage. ¡°I know it''s still nothing compared to you!¡±

    ¡°Oh? And what do you know about that?¡± Stroud quirked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Everything. That old crone, Maud, isn¡¯t the only one capable of gathering information around here¡­¡± Maeve crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaning back slightly as her lungs swelled. ¡°Do you hate me even more now?¡± she blurted out.

    ¡°Miss¡­ I thought we already established that I bear you no ill will. Now, will you please board the carriage so that we can set off?¡± Stroud was desperately searching for a way to steer the conversation away from this topic. No matter how often and vehemently he had ensured her since the accident, she still seemed to dwell on the matter often.

    Maeve dug her boots deep into the snow. Her answering glare was resolute. ¡°No. I¡¯m not budging until you give me an answer. Why aren¡¯t you more upset?¡±

    Stroud shrugged helplessly. ¡°I was angry. For a time. Angry at that man, angry at the injustice¡­ However, the past can¡¯t be changed. We can only strive to do our best as we move forward.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like Celina talking,¡± Maeve grumbled. She hung her head briefly before perking up. Her next words came tumbling out in a flurry, ¡°My father¡¯s working hard, you know? He¡¯s going to be attempting to complete his next major Cycle and breakthrough to the 2nd Order before the Winter Solstice. Even if he¡¯s still unable to heal you, he¡¯s already looking for those who can¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be hoping for his success,¡± Stroud replied as he opened the carriage door and gestured for her to climb inside.

    ¡°As am I¡­¡± Maeve muttered as she approached with dragging steps. Stroud accepted her proffered hand and helped her aboard. But as she disappeared inside, a faint whisper brushed past his ear.

    ¡°...I¡¯ll be working hard too¡­¡±

    Stroud nodded, smiling faintly as he climbed up to the driver¡¯s bench.

    With a sharp whistle, he cracked the reigns, spurring the dramoth into motion.

    ***

    Listening to the soft crunch of the carriage¡¯s wheels as they plowed through the snow, Stroud wrapped his cloak tighter around his body. He wasn¡¯t freezing, but it was just cold enough to make him uncomfortable.

    Briefly, he glanced at the dramoth wading steadily through the white expanse before allowing his eyes to wander back toward the town of Ebbinside in the distance.

    Calling it a town was generous, in his opinion. There were none of the walls or centers for religion or governing that would typically classify it as such.

    Instead, it consisted primarily of dense clusters of quaint wood cabins. They huddled together closely ¡ª as if to shield one another from the wind constantly shrieking through the mountain valley. And how it howled today. The clouds of smoke drifting up through the chimneys were swiftly whisked away by the violent gusts to disperse into the clear blue sky. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Stroud inhaled a long breath through his nose, savoring the fragrance of the burning pine. Even without the flickering light of the fireplace in front of him, just the smell alone was able to reassure him, providing comfort and warmth.

    At that instant, his only wish was to be able to thaw his hands by the flames...

    ¡°Stupid beast,¡± Stroud cursed under his breath. He similarly wished to curse the name of the man who had the brilliant idea of turning dramoths into pack animals.

    Progress through the Baron¡¯s lands had been slow. Due mostly in part to the fact that the pace of the dramoth pulling them had never surpassed walking speed. It¡¯s wide and heavy body certainly wasn¡¯t designed for speed, but the creature had proved obstinate to an extreme. No matter how he urged or prodded, it couldn¡¯t be bothered to move any faster.

    Stroud knew that dramoths were popular cattle in the northern reaches ¡ª when they were well contained. Their thick fur was useful for clothing, and their bodies contained large quantities of meat. The sharp, steel-like tusks of the males were also considered valuable for their use as tools.

    ¡®But who suddenly thought this was a good idea,¡¯ Stroud glared at the mound of brownish-grey hair.

    In more favorable traveling conditions, he could make it to Ebbinside by horse in less time then it took to eat a formal meal. It was a relatively straight path from the manor at the mouth of the valley, to the northwest ¡ª where the stretch of upward sloping land met its end at the base of the behemoth Mount Vennear. A number of times Stroud had made the trip out here as part of his riding practice, and to run errands for Celina. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for the estate to exchange much of their produce for the firewood, pelts, and meat foraged by the hunters living in the area.

    ¡°Stroud? Are we almost there?¡± Maeve unlatched the carriage window and called out. All she could see from inside the vehicle were the towering mountains to their left and right, and the dense pinewood forests crawling up them. However, it seemed that the faint vibrations of music and celebration in the distance had roused her from whatever meditation she was engaged in.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be coming upon it shortly, Miss,¡± Stroud replied. He snapped the reins to urge the beast to push itself just a little harder up the final length, but all he received in reply was an irritated swish of its whisk-like tail.

    The remaining minutes of the journey passed sluggishly as the sun began to descend from its zenith, and Stroud began to wonder how worthwhile this trip really was. Though, it was a little too late for that, he supposed. Still, it was unfortunate that they wouldn¡¯t have more than an hour or two to shop and partake in the festivities before having to return.

    But in the end, it only mattered that Maeve was happy with the arrangements. The inconvenience was a small price to pay if this trip quelled her desire for any sort of grand birthday gala as the Baron likely hoped...

    ¡°Oi! Is that you, Stroud?¡± A young man in his late teens shouted from the town¡¯s edge. His spirited greeting carried clearly over.

    At his side was an older man with broad shoulders and thick arms. With the sun at their backs, any more of their features were too difficult to make out. They appeared as no more than dark silhouettes as the rays of light diffracted around their robust frames.

    Despite that, Stroud recognized them immediately. He tilted back the lip of his cap as he called back, ¡°Indeed it is. To what do I owe the honor of receiving the greetings of the great warrior, Hastyr?¡±

    ¡°Must you always spew those fancy words¡ª¡± Hastyr¡¯s rebuke transformed into a pained yelp as his father smacked the back of his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, Stroud.¡± The Ebbinside Chief¡¯s deep voice rumbled through the air. ¡°What brings you and your Liege here today?¡±

    Stroud cringed inwardly at the man¡¯s pointed mention of his vassalage, but he didn¡¯t allow his dissatisfaction to show on his face as he shook his head. ¡°Miss Marwood and I have only come to observe the preparations for the Solstice Rites and engage in some trade. We will be leaving before it grows dark.¡± When speaking with the Chief, he¡¯d learned that it was best to state his intentions concisely and bluntly.

    These townspeople were rough and hardy folk ¡ª having settled in the area and hunted in the mountains long before the land was designated as the Marwood fiefdom. As a result of their pride and long-standing independence, they refused to pay tribute to the Baron, and it had become somewhat of a sore point for all the parties involved.

    However, they bore no ill will against those who visited with a full purse. It was the same in this world as his last. As long as one was flush with money or valuable goods, they would be well received wherever they went.

    Stroud eased the dramoth to a stop in front of the Chief and stepped down to assist his charge out of the carriage.

    ¡°Well met, Chief Brynyng.¡± Maeve spoke lucidly as she hopped down into the tracts of snow. ¡°I do not wish to impose upon your people. Truthfully, I am only here to satisfy my own curiosity and nothing more.¡±

    ¡°That is no trouble at all, young lady.¡±

    ¡°Yea! I¡¯d be happy to show you around!¡± Hastyr hurriedly offered his services, his icy blue eyes lighting up as he gazed at Maeve.

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll be in your care.¡± Maeve only complied after receiving a nod of approval from Stroud.

    He agreed because his impression of Hastyr was a favorable one. The chief¡¯s son was one of the few who proactively came to speak with Stroud whenever he visited, and he didn¡¯t bear the same petty grudge against the Marwood¡¯s that the older generation of Ebbinside did. Moreover, he couldn¡¯t be blamed for his eagerness. Maeve was certainly a budding beauty and Hastyr was a hot-blooded youth who had spent his whole life in this isolated community.

    Hence, Stroud felt at ease as he passed off the carriage to a stablehand that had rushed over. He followed dutifully behind as they were led into the streets of densely packed snow.

    By all appearances, Ebbinside seemed to be a popular gathering point for some of the smaller communities and villages living deeper within the mountain range. And the result was quite a lively time.

    There were colorful banners strewn between the buildings and all manner of bizarre games and musical scores being played at the street corners. The people wore thick furs and danced and sang raucously. It was all very... wild.

    Stroud swallowed his misgivings. Or at least, he tried his best not to let his discomfort show on his face. Loud and dense gatherings of people had always unsettled him.

    Images of the rowdy crowds bidding merrily at the slaves auctions flashed unbidden through his mind...

    In time, they moved deeper into the residential areas, and it was here that they met with many hunters who took to the tradition of displaying their most prized trophy of the year on their front doors. Whether it be skulls, pelts, claws, or horns, pretty much anything could be found about. Moved by some of the pieces, Maeve quickly adopted an interest in asking about the origins of many of these bizarre items.

    Naturally, the hunters gladly regaled her with their valiant tales of conquest.

    Having Hastyr around proved useful as well. He was an animated host, gesturing to this and that, and he politely introduced the Marwood heir to those who were curious. For her part, Maeve was rather quiet. She bought a few baubles from the abundance of booths set up by craftsmen and tried one or two of the local dishes, but there was a trace of disappointment lingering behind her pleasant smiles. Nothing seemed to truly strike her fancy.

    ¡°Lady Maeve, have you seen anything that¡¯s caught your eye?¡± Hastyr eventually asked, looking a bit flustered as they stopped for some food and drink. ¡°I would be willing to negotiate on your behalf. Just say the word,¡± he added, placing an arm across his chest in a knightly salute.

    Maeve giggled into her hand before stopping to seriously consider the question. In the ensuing lull, the low buzz of conservation and vendors hawking their wares washed over them.

    ¡°...I¡¯m looking for a gift for my father,¡± she began, pausing to chomp on some of the mixed nuts Stroud had distributed. ¡°Something of arcane origins preferably. But I understand that such items are rare and often coveted by their finders.¡±

    Hastyr tapped his foot as he sunk into thought, and Stroud found his interest was piqued as well.

    ¡°Hmmm... most of the potent herbs any of the hunters find are immediately bought by the old witch Gau to brew her medicines¡­¡± It took a few moments, but eventually, something dawned on the older boy. He stomped his foot as he exclaimed, ¡°Wait, I know just the thing!¡±

    Maeve startled, looking from Hastyr over to Stroud. ¡°This sounds like quite the spectacular item?¡±

    ¡°It most surely is!¡± Hastyr declared. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it slipped my mind before¡­ Follow me!¡±

    He wasted no time rushing off toward the town square, and Stroud found himself nearly sprinting alongside Maeve to keep up with the young man. It was an area they¡¯d avoided for the most part previously; the reason for this becoming abundantly clear as they arrived.

    Many of the townsfolk sat hunched over on their knees, silently engaging in prayer. Their worship was directed to a large totem that had been erected in the center of the small plaza. It was thick, like the trunk of a tree, and covered in intricate carvings from head to toe. Most of which depicted a woman clad in scant furs engaged in the various stages of the hunt.

    ¡°What¡­ is that¡­?¡± Maeve asked quietly, between her ragged breaths when Hastyr had finally slowed enough for them to catch up.

    ¡°It is our tribute to Rennlaudr, the guardian spirit of Mount Vennear,¡± Hastyr explained, his expression unusually solemn. ¡°During the Solstice, she makes her return to the mortal plane, gracing all life in the northern reaches with her abundance. Those trophies you saw earlier will be sacrificed to her during the ritual in a few days ¡ª in hopes that their bearer may receive just a little more of her favor in the coming year.¡±

    Stroud processed the boy¡¯s words in silence, tuning out Maeve as she followed up with a few questions.

    He was genuinely interested in observing the sacrifices. Myths like this were often rooted in some sort of truth, so there was a chance that he would be able to catch a glimpse of the supernatural. It was a tempting prospect for him who was hungry to expand his knowledge and experiences.

    ¡°Stroud, hurry up!¡± Maeve beckoned as she circled around the crowd behind Hastyr.

    ¡®This will have to be our last stop,¡¯ Stroud sighed as he looked up at the setting sun.

    In short order, they arrived behind a small crowd in the corner of the square. A very lively bunch, unlike those gathered around the totem. Their bodies were drenched in the heavy scent of ale, and they jeered at Hastyr as he pushed his way through to clear a path for Maeve.

    ¡°The great warrior!¡± a burly man with his hair tied back in a braid teased, smacking Hastyr on the back as he passed. ¡°Here to poach another of our trophies to make yourself look good for the sacrifice?¡±

    Hastyr¡¯s face flushed red as he visibly fought down a retort. ¡°I¡¯m here to assist Lady Maeve in her search for valuables, Udrin. And I believe your team to be the only group capable of satisfying her requests.¡±

    The man¡¯s smile broadened as he caught sight of Maeve, gold coins practically dancing in his eyes. ¡°Of course! We would be more than willing to show the lady some of our... excess offerings. Don¡¯t shy away yourself, Hastyr, if anything catches your interest.¡±

    Udrin stepped to the side, revealing a hawk-nosed man, with a long scar slicing across one cheek, sitting behind a low table. He folded his hands in his lap as he met Maeve¡¯s gaze. ¡°You are looking for materials carrying traces of spiritual remnants, I presume?¡±

    ¡°If you are referring to items containing arcane energy, then yes.¡± Maeve confidently replied.

    The hunter shrugged off her retort and reached into a sack behind him, procuring three items which he then laid across the table.

    ¡°Take your time to look them over, but be warned, the cheapest among them will be 7 of your gold Mors¡­¡±

    Maeve flinched at that price. But that was the luxury of having a monopoly out here, Stroud knew. He was in no way capable of purchasing something like this himself ¡ª even if he saved his entire salary for the next few years. Still, he wouldn¡¯t shy away from browsing while the Miss made her decision.

    Starting from the left was a set of dark, sinister claws, strung from a twine necklace. They exuded a coldness and sense of imminent dread that was very similar to the resonance gem of the Malignant Discipline Stroud had encountered not long ago.

    Unfortunately, that made them ill-suited for Maeve or her father who were favored of light Arcana, Sanctus, so she quickly moved on to the next item.

    A feather, seemingly ordinary at a glance. Its presence was much more subtle and gentle than the claws, and Stroud was only able to pick up on the energy hidden within when focusing intently. Fleeting and carefree, the jade feather whispered the promises of the wind.

    Again, Maeve glanced over it, but nothing more.

    Ultimately, her eyes arrived on the final offering. And it was here that Stroud¡¯s focus has landed as well.

    ¡°May I touch it?¡± Stroud asked, catching everyone by surprise ¡ª except for the stoic man behind the table.

    He nodded. ¡°You are welcome to.¡±

    Desire burned in Stroud¡¯s chest as he reached out for the dim crimson organ.

    ¡®A bladder? No. Something different¡­ more potent,¡¯ he concluded as he weighed the fleshy mass in his palm. The energy it contained vastly outstripped the other items.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Stroud spoke fervently, his thoughts were racing toward all manner of possibility as he brushed his fingertips across it.

    ¡°That, my friend, is the Core of a Spirit Beast¡­¡±

    Maeve gasped as Udrin and the surrounding hunters grinned broadly.

 Chapter 6

    For the umpteenth time, Stroud glanced to the Spirit Core wrapped tightly in a bundle of cloth at his side. He only breathed out after confirming it was safe.

    Maeve was a ball of nerves as well, choosing to join him on the driver¡¯s bench rather than idling inside the carriage. The steady thumping of her boots against the floorboard continued relentlessly as her knees bounced up and down. It was fortunate that the journey back was a much faster one, or Stroud thought he may have been driven mad by the incessant noise.

    They were able to travel downhill, along the path that they had paved earlier in the day, following the winding brook that ran down from the mountains and cut through the valley.

    The scattered pines around them eventually gave way to broader, clearer pastures, as they passed by the dormant fields and the homes of the serfs working in Baron Marwood¡¯s fiefdom.

    To the west, the greedy shadows of dusk extended their hands from the mountains and out across the whitewashed land. Though, try as they might, they were unable to completely suppress the sweat-like glimmer radiating from the sheet of refreezing snow.

    Ordinarily, Stroud would have been content to soak up the view and admire the creamy orange hues of the sunset, but once again, he found his eyes drawn to the inconspicuous bundle.

    ¡®Snap out of it,¡¯ he admonished himself. ¡®That prize is not yours to keep.¡¯ It would be wasted on a cripple like him anyway. And Maeve was the one who had shelled out the vast majority of the staggering 12 gold Mors they had ended up paying for it.

    Stroud had chipped in with some of his own savings, but he was sure to be reimbursed by the Baron. After all, some money could in no way compare to the value of greatly improving one¡¯s strength as a Magus. In fact, there was a high likelihood he would be rewarded for helping secure such a precious resource.

    If the Baron was able to use the energy stored inside the Spirit Core to complete his advancement, then the entire estate would receive many benefits alongside the man¡¯s rise in status.

    Yet, Stroud was unable to completely let go of his desire to possess and study the item in detail. Something inside him had sparked at the sight of it. For him, it didn¡¯t represent a mere step forward in strength ¡ª it embodied an entirely new path. One that could allow him to circumvent the roadblocks he faced.

    If beasts were able to use a Spirit Core to harness arcane energy, why couldn¡¯t he do something similar? The idea of using an alternative energy furnace didn¡¯t seem entirely far-fetched, and his heart ached with desire. As well as a degree of frustration.

    He realized now that he¡¯d been too focused on the conventional means of cultivation. Too quick to accept word for fact. And it was only when the Core had stared him right in the face, that this had occurred to him. But once it had, it was like a dam that had been impeding his thoughts suddenly burst, and all at once, a torrent of ideas struck him ¡ª each succeeding one with more force than the previous.

    To accomplish his goals, he would need to open himself up to a broader range of possibilities. Humans weren¡¯t alone in this world, and he wasn¡¯t the first cripple driven to pursue the Arcane.

    As Stroud¡¯s mind stirred, he barely registered their progress homeward. He was too busy staring into the distance.

    Fortunately, the dramoth lugging them along was experienced, performing a lazy turn to the left as it aimed up the slope toward the manor house.

    ¡°...Stroud? W-What¡¯s that?¡± The panicky inflection in Maeve¡¯s tone and their sudden, jerking stop, finally roused Stroud. He breathed in deeply, his eyes darting around as he surfaced from the sea of speculation.

    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t be sure, Miss.¡±

    He found that they had just crested the hill, arriving on the lawn that stretched toward the manor. And the object of Maeve¡¯s attention was easy to pinpoint. Even a blind man would be hard-pressed to miss the massive bird warming itself in the final rays of sunlight.

    It appeared like some strange cross-breed of a wyvern and an eagle. On its haunches, it sat as tall as the dramoth, unwittingly radiating its majesty. The beast craned its long neck, its large golden eyes blinking curiously as it regarded them. Those two bright orbs contained a surprising intelligence and they drew Stroud into their depths, filling his vision until nothing else remained.

    Magic. In his old world, it had only existed in the far-off and mystical realms crafted by dreamers. But after transmigrating to this place and witnessing it firsthand, Stroud had quickly come to terms with its actuality. Or so he thought...

    He had envisioned arcane energy as a tool. One that he could use to clear a path to his answers. There was a system to it. Logic. And that stood within the bounds of what he could accept.

    But the existence of this creature defied those bounds, shattering any pretext he had formulated in his mind to shelter himself from the fear of the unknown.

    This beast forced him to confront a very different manifestation of magic¡¯s presence. And he found this one much more difficult to acknowledge. This shouldn¡¯t be real. It can¡¯t be. Yet here it was, eyeing him with disdain.

    His breath had long since frozen in his lungs, and there was a weight that had settled in his stomach, holding him in place. Heavy and oppressive. It was helplessness, and it told him that this beast was the hunter and he the potential prey. He surmised that the only reason it hadn¡¯t devoured them immediately upon their arrival was that it didn¡¯t view them as a worthy meal.

    Why would the proud eagle dirty its beak in the mud, scrounging for worms, when it could just as easily savor more appetizing flesh.

    The Spirit Beast crooned softly as it dipped its head and returned to preening its luxuriant white feathers. At first glance, the plumage rippled seamlessly under its silver beak, promising of a soft and inviting space to rest his head. But Stroud¡¯s eye was not so easily fooled. He saw the sharp and menacing glint of the feathers¡¯ edge as they caught the fading light.

    Long seconds passed in agonizing silence before Stroud calmed his trembling heart enough to break his gaze from the creature and process the surrounding scene.

    Calm. That was strange. Peace and quiet were the last things he expected to find in the presence of this monster.

    Blood and viscera, smoke and rubble. These were the accompaniment of such a harbinger of death. And yet¡­ nothing was out of place.

    The servant¡¯s quarters stood inconspicuously to the west, hiding behind a row of snow-burdened trees, while the knight¡¯s barracks and the training grounds sprawled to the east ¡ª the dark green banners of the Marwood household hanging proudly from their walls. And to the north, across the lawn, soft sounds of merriment drifted out of the manor.

    Stroud exhaled. Guests. A surprise for Maeve then? Possibly, but Stroud assumed he would have been privy to such arrangements.

    An unexpected but powerful visitor. He deemed this the most likely.

    After coming to terms with the notion that his life was not in imminent danger, Stroud managed to muster the courage to act.

    ¡°Allow me to assist you, Madam.¡± He stepped down, bundle tucked under one arm as his mouth turned up into the polite, close-lipped smile he always wore when attending to his duties.

    Maeve didn¡¯t reply ¡ª her face drained of all color ¡ª but she accepted Stroud¡¯s aid and the two began their long, precarious walk through the snow across the lawn. They gave the beast a wide berth as they skirted around the eastern edge, looping towards the manor house.

    It was with much relief that they found the maid, Susane, waiting for them at the bottom of the wide stone staircase leading to the home¡¯s grand entryway.

    She waved to them from afar when she caught their attention. Her mouth opened briefly to speak, but she seemed to think better of it and held-off until they drew closer.

    ¡°...My apologies, Miss Marwood. I was entrusted to wait for your arrival and escort you into the great hall; however¡­¡± Susane spoke in a hushed voice, her eyes flickering to the predator lurking nearby.

    ¡°There is no need to worry. I don¡¯t fault your actions¡ª¡± Maeve straightened out her clothes as best she could with trembling hands while Baron Marwood¡¯s booming laughter resounded from inside. ¡°Though, I would appreciate it if you could fill me in on the situation.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes!¡± Susane startled, chuckling nervously as her outburst attracted a side-long glance from the beast. ¡°Marchioness Adelais arrived not long ago to meet with your father.¡±

    Maeve flinched noticeably but managed to gather herself. ¡°Very well, give me a moment and we can head inside.¡± She smacked her cheeks a few times to bring a little blush back to them.

    In the meanwhile, Stroud puzzled over such a powerful woman¡¯s sudden appearance, especially during the Tide. The Marchioness had inherited the title of Warden and could be considered the true overlord of the northernmost fiefs in the principality. It was widely known that the prince didn¡¯t bother much with anything related to governance aside from collecting taxes.

    ...What could a second-generation noble family like the Marwoods possess to attract her interest?

    ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± Maeve announced after she¡¯d fiddled with her appearance to an acceptable standard. She marched up the stairs ahead of them without waiting for a reply.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ***

    The great hall of the Marwood manor was a room Stroud knew well. After all, he¡¯d cleaned every nook and cranny of it on multiple occasions. Though, it had been a while since he¡¯d last done so.

    It was an esteemed space ¡ª the pride of the Baron¡¯s wife. As it was the only area in which she was given permission to display the family¡¯s relatively meager wealth.

    In the span of Stroud¡¯s five years in the service of the estate, the hall¡¯s decor had undergone multiple iterations. Ranging from bold, ostentatious finery of purple and gold, to the more inviting and earthy tones reflective of the Marwood household¡¯s colors.

    But this year, Lady Marwood seemed to be aiming for subtle elegance. Silver, sapphire, and bronze predominated.

    Inside the hall, milky marble slabs were inlaid into the floor, their smooth surfaces reflecting the warm light of the myriad candles that adorned the chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling.

    Everyone within the room bathed in the soft amber glow as they sat around a long table. It was a work that had been commissioned from a carpenter in Ebbinside who had built the current Chief¡¯s longhouse. He was renowned for his ability to breathe life into wood through his fine engravings, and his skill shone in every petal and stem of the flowers wrapping around the table¡¯s legs, base, and crust.

    Stroud abruptly ceased the roaming of his eyes as they stepped deeper into the room. The subdued chatter that had accompanied the sharp clinking of silverware petered out as Susane announced Maeve¡¯s presence.

    ¡°Greetings: Father, Mother, and esteemed Marchioness.¡± Maeve curtsied to the sole guest in attendance and removed her cloak, which Stroud received while trying his best to ignore the weight of the surrounding gazes. There was one, in particular, that sent a shiver racing down his spine. He noted that in the silence, the room had suddenly lost its grandeur, feeling more hollow and foreboding than anything else.

    It was fortunate that he was not an object of attention like the young Madam because Stroud felt himself naturally shrinking away from the pressure. He sought out the nearby shadows for relief, finding solace in a corner.

    Breathing out his fear, Stroud closed his eyes.

    The Marchioness exuded a more refined pressure than her companion outside. It was well-contained and sharp in the way she wielded it ¡ª stifling, like a blade pressed against the throat.

    First, it had been a beast, and now it was man. In such a short time, Stroud¡¯s sense of safety had been stripped away by both, leaving him feeling vulnerable. He hated it.

    Because their strength had told him what he really was. A fragile and hollow shell.

    His senses had improved to the extent of allowing him to vaguely gauge their power, but he had no ability of his own to shield himself with.

    Although, for once, time was on his side.

    Stroud breathed in, feeling the rapid beating of his heart and the blood racing through his veins. With life, there was hope. He opened his eyes and turned his attention back toward Maeve.

    She glid confidently across the room in her flowing ruby dress, drifting past the arched windows and the paintings that hung between them. Both mediums displayed the fiefdom frozen in time, painting a contradictory backdrop to the girl¡¯s fiery appearance that threatened to set all around her aflame.

    When she arrived behind her appointed seat at the long dining table, she received a welcome nod from her father.

    ¡°Please, have a seat, Maeve. I was just telling Lady Adelais about your trip to Ebbinside. I take it everything went well?¡± Baron Marwood swept his hand in a broad, inviting gesture, smiling fondly. There was a half-empty glass of wine in front of him and his roasted chicken had been picked clean; by all appearances, he was at ease.

    But Stroud easily picked up on the stiffness of his words and the faint beads of sweat glistening between the compressed rolls of fat on the back of the man¡¯s neck. He too was struggling to protect himself against the powerful woman¡¯s acute presence.

    In fact, Lady Marwood seemed to be the only one enjoying herself. She sat next to the Baron, her eyes upturned with self-satisfaction. Hosting the Marchioness was likely something she would brag about to her friends for years to come.

    As for the esteemed visitor, Stroud didn¡¯t dare look her direction errantly. But judging by the flat tone of her voice, she was none too pleased with her current reception. ¡°Yes, it is unusual that I get the chance to venture this far from the capital or Frostrane, and I¡¯ve found myself intrigued by Lord Marwood¡¯s tales of the northern hunters and their rituals.¡±

    Maeve savored a long sip of wine before she replied, ¡°I must admit that it was actually my first experience with their Solstice celebration, Your Grace. But it was indeed interesting...¡± She went on to explain all that they had learned from Hastyr that afternoon: the details of the hunting trophies and their use in the sacrifice to the spirit of the mountain.

    ¡°Is it really as you say?¡± Marchioness Adelais exclaimed, a hint of surprise creeping into her crisp voice.

    ¡°Just so, Your Grace. If not for the danger that roams these lands in the dark, I would have liked to stay and witness more of the rituals for myself¡ªif only for the atmosphere,¡± Maeve replied, echoing a similar sentiment to what Stroud had felt earlier in the day.

    ¡°I should think anyone would,¡± Lady Adelais replied before adding offhandedly, ¡°Such an opportunity is rare¡­ But I don¡¯t think you returned completely empty-handed, correct?¡±

    Stroud¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he clutched the bundle tighter against his chest.

    She felt it. And his immediate thought was that she would claim it. No one here would be able to stop her.

    While Stroud cowered ¡ª the Baron panicked. Maeve had lost her voice. The three of them were shackled by dismay and indecision alike.

    Only Lady Marwood had the bravery to speak. The woman¡¯s eyes roamed around, confusion swirling within them as she tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. ¡°What is it, Maeve? Did you find something nice? I¡¯ve been meaning to take you shopping for some new clothes...¡±

    Maeve was still unable to respond ¡ª a lump caught in her throat, but in her place, the Marchioness laughed earnestly. The sound of it was bewitching, though the effect was quite the opposite as the three frozen members of the dinner party suddenly regained their senses.

    ¡°Be at ease,¡± Lady Adelais appealed, covering her mouth with a dainty hand, as her chest trembled with suppressed mirth, ¡°I would never covet something I had not earned myself.¡±

    She turned her attention to Baron Marwood before she continued, the man meeting her gaze as best he could while forcing smile. ¡°My only thought was that it was an endearing gesture on your daughter''s part, and I selfishly wanted to share in the surprise.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow at that, easing back into his chair somewhat as he glanced over at Maeve.

    ¡°L-Lady Adelais speaks the truth, Father. Stroud and I came across a stroke of tremendous fortune while searching for a gift to aid you in your advancement¡­¡± Her voice trailed off as she gestured to Stroud with her eyes.

    Head down, he hurried over and presented her with the wrapped Spirit Core, scurrying back to his corner immediately after.

    Maeve had everyone¡¯s undivided attention as she unraveled the cloth to reveal the steadily pulsing orb. And for the first time that evening, Stroud felt the pressure of the Marchioness recede. He greedily inhaled oxygen into his deprived lungs, afraid that he wouldn¡¯t receive another chance.

    ¡°Is this¡­?¡± the Baron began, fresh sweat precariously dripping down his forehead. His eyes were locked on the object in his daughter¡¯s hands.

    Lady Adelais seemed to take pity on the man as she spoke up once more, ¡°May I?¡± she gestured questioningly. ¡°I think I should be able to shed some light on its origins for you.¡±

    ¡°O-Of course, Your Grace,¡± Maeve fumbled out, placing the Core down on the table and retracting her hands.

    An unseen force guided it over to the Marchioness in the next moment. She reached out, but she didn¡¯t touch it. Instead, she kept her hands hovering just above it like a fortune teller would with a crystal ball.

    During her lapse in concentration, Stroud took the chance to finally observe the woman.

    He wasn''t surprised to find that she looked much younger than someone who had reigned over the reaches for decades should. Her midnight blue hair was draped over her shoulders, appearing silky and smooth just like her pale, unblemished skin. A sharp and valiant brow accentuated her refined features, but behind that beautiful mask, lurked an indescribable chill. Stroud felt as if he was staring at a wasteland of naught but ice and torrents of hail as he looked into her stony grey eyes.

    Fitting, Stroud thought, for the one who rules over the north.

    The woman closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, savoring the organ¡¯s aroma before she deigned it timely to explain herself, directing her words to Maeve and the Baron.

    ¡°I am unsure of the knowledge you possess in relation to Spirit Cores ¡ª as even I would not claim myself to be an expert ¡ª but I see it fit to mention this: in the same way that our aedetari methods allow us to manipulate our Nura in favor of certain elements, Spirit Beasts are able to attribute their Cores.¡±

    A flash of enlightenment passed across Baron Marwood¡¯s face to which she nodded and said, ¡°It is as you expect. Consuming the Nura inside of a Spirit Core can be harmful or wasteful if it is not inclined similarly to your own.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­?¡± the Baron inquired hopefully.

    Briefly, Stroud thought she may be playing a trick on them in order to claim the prize for herself, but her next words set him at ease.

    ¡°No need to worry, for your daughter is surely blessed by the heavens. I can say with confidence that not only is this a 2nd Grade Core, but it also contains pure Nura of the wood element. While not perfectly suited to the predominantly light attribute that you cultivate, it should still prove a great boon to your advancement. Congratulations.¡±

    Baron Marwood trembled, appearing on the verge of tears. ¡°L-Lady Adelais, I-I don¡¯t know how to thank you¡­¡±

    ¡°Thank me¡­¡± she chuckled. ¡°Thank your daughter, you dolt.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right, my apologies. ¡± the Baron laughed with his whole body, causing the plates atop the table to quake and his wife to lower her head with embarrassment. ¡°Maeve¡­ thank you, dear,¡± he squeezed out.

    ¡°Your welcome, Father.¡± Maeve¡¯s face flushed a bright red that almost matched her hair as the Marchioness gazed between the two, smiling gently.

    ¡°I knew my choice was the correct one,¡± she mused out loud. ¡°Now, I think it''s time to move on to the true purpose of my visit.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes. Of course¡­¡± Baron Marwood puffed himself up. ¡°What might we be able to assist you with, Lady Adelais?¡±

    The woman stood up from her seat and moved around the back of the chair, resting her hands upon the top rail. ¡°Recently, I have decided to step down from my position and pass on my title to my eldest son. He¡¯s already approaching the end of his first century, so it''s about time he started gaining experience¡­ but I digress. I don¡¯t wish to idle away the remainder of my days, and therefore, I¡¯ve decided to open a new Arcanium up here in the edge of the reaches.¡± She swept her eyes over the table as her words dropped to the floor with the weight of a boulder.

    ¡°The prince has agreed with me that the Arcanium in Magend is insufficient, and he as offered up a significant amount of resources to help me in this endeavor. But¡­¡± she held up a finger, ¡°A suitable location and resources are not enough on their own. An Arcanium must have apprentices as well.¡±

    The eyes of the Baron and Maeve were alight with passion as Lady Adelais¡¯ purpose became clear.

    ¡°Lord Marwood¡­ I would like to extend an invitation to your daughter, pending a brief assessment.¡±

    ¡°Really¡ª!¡± Maeve yipped before swiftly covering her mouth with both hands.

    Adelais nodded. ¡°Christopher was an acquaintance of mine in the past. And one of the few peers I considered to possess a talent comparable to my own. His understanding of Spellcrafting was unparalleled. If not for his late start as a Magus¡­¡±

    For a few breaths, the woman lost herself in her memories. Providing enough time for Baron Marwood and Maeve to communicate with silent gestures and meaningful stares.

    ¡°It would be our honor to have Maeve attend your Arcanium, Lady Adelais.¡± The Baron bowed his head, as did Maeve and Lady Marwood.

    ¡°Wonderful. Following the Solstice, I¡¯ll be sending representatives out to verify the results of an affinity reading and confirm the health of each candidate. Then, after the First Crossing, the new term will begin in the Spring.¡± Adelais clapped her hands together and waltzed over to the foot of the table.

    When it seemed as if she would head directly out the door, Lady Marwood called out to her. ¡°Y-Your Grace, is there nothing else we can offer you during your stay? The hour is getting late¡­¡±

    The Marchioness brushed off her words without breaking stride. ¡°No need. My schedule is tight at the moment. There is still more recruitment to be done. Word doesn¡¯t spread as easily this time of year.¡±

    As if pushed by a violent wind, the doors swung open, and like a fleeting breeze, Adelais vanished from sight.

 Chapter 7

    The days following the Marchioness¡¯s visit were a storm of activity. Tide or not, things needed to be done.

    Landon took over the affairs of the estate as the Baron bunkered down in his quarters with the Spirit Core to make his breakthrough. The steward¡¯s primary objective was to prepare Maeve for her examination. There was never a doubt that she would be going to an Arcanium somewhere, but to receive a direct invitation from one of the most influential Magi in the Principality produced a whole different array of expectations.

    If Lady Adelais would be overseeing the students herself, then the chance to learn from her ¡ª even if only indirectly ¡ª was immensely valuable. It also couldn¡¯t be discounted that she and the prince would be working in tandem on the project, bringing to bear an impressive collection of knowledge and resources.

    Therefore, it was imperative that Maeve exhibit herself well. And that meant spending all of her time pushing her spiritual centers to their limit under Landon¡¯s guidance. Devoting dawn till dusk to aeditari and clearing her mindscape. They went at it with such voracity that it was as if the steward hoped to mold her into a fully-fledged 1st Order Magus in just a little over a week. Obviously, such a task was impossible, but the impending visit of the Arcanium¡¯s representative loomed over them with a weight surpassing that of the ponderous Mount Vennear.

    Another consequence of the new arrangements was that Stroud¡¯s presence was no longer needed at her side. And he felt as though he had been liberated.

    Stroud redoubled his efforts to improve himself. For him, the significance of this opportunity wasn¡¯t any less than it was for Maeve and the Marwood house. A blessing had been so kind as to drop itself into his lap, and he wouldn¡¯t see it wasted.

    Mornings were spent excavating his Spirit Locus, scraping away with diligence. As charged with excitement as the atmosphere of the manor was, he couldn¡¯t allow it to affect him in his advancements. Everything he had learned indicated that the foundation of the mindscape was vitally important. Without a sturdy base to support them, the higher layers would tumble and crash under the burden of more advanced spell models. And there was no remedy to fix a broken mind.

    His afternoons then belonged to the training grounds. Stroud was beginning to come around to the idea that he may require a stronger constitution. For two reasons. The first being his worry over any complications that may arise when potentially accepting an alternative energy furnace into his body. He still held out hope for meeting a healer that could mend his shattered Sea, but he wanted to keep all options available to himself.

    The other factor that spurred his sudden bout of exercise was even more pressing. Magi, for the most part, would be able to use their stored Nura to slowly improve their bodies. But that was something he could not do. Thus, when considering that the spell he would soon be imprinting into his mind focused on enhancing his physical prowess ¡ª he worried that his vessel would shatter under the pressure of a power it couldn¡¯t handle.

    All signs pointed him towards physical training, making it clear it was something he¡¯d been neglecting for long enough.

    There weren¡¯t many knights serving the Baron, maybe a few dozen at most. And there were even fewer among them who desired to workout during their time off amidst the Tide. But it was fortunate that enough of them did to the point that the grounds were mostly cleared of snow. Stroud took to running laps around the area, building his stamina before all else so that when he eventually fell in with those participating in drills, he wouldn¡¯t utterly embarrass himself.

    Still, it was an unfortunate truth that Stroud¡¯s body really was much weaker than even he expected. His bones felt brittle and his lungs wheezed from the slightest exertion. It was so much easier to just stay inside and focus solely on his mind. The improvements in that aspect were much more pronounced ¡ª and much less painful.

    It was really only fear that continued to push his weary legs to the eastern grounds every day. Though, that was an emotion he could cope with well. Fear had been one of his strongest motivators for a long time.

    Fear woke him up early in the morning and kept him up late. Long after the sun dipped below the mountains in the evening and deep into the dark and frigid hours, Stroud would remain inside the foggy realm hidden in his mind.

    Each day was nearly the same as the last, continuing in a perpetual loop of exhaustion. Mind, then body, then the mind again. But each minute he wasn¡¯t suffering from such a state, was a minute he felt was wasted.

    He had witnessed the true strength a Magus could bring to bear with their mere presence alone, and now, his eyes were only filled with the image of the Marchioness¡¯ receding back. During the brief and sparse occasions when he encountered Landon, Stroud noticed that the man¡¯s aura was so... bland, in comparison. Faded and mute, like an old t-shirt that had been through the wash one too many times.

    Lady Adelais may not be able to provide him with any of the grand answers he sought, but he had an inkling she could point him in the right direction at the very least.

    His heart itched at the thought.

    Patience. Stroud reminded himself time and time again. As long as he moved forward and remained attentive, he firmly believed that opportunities would continue to present themselves.

    And so they did...

    Three days after the Solstice had passed, Baron Marwood emerged from his seclusion.

    The man looked at least fifty pounds lighter. Diminished somehow. And Stroud¡¯s immediate impression was that he¡¯d failed. But then, the Baron unleashed the strength he¡¯d buried within his hefty gut. And in the next moment, he appeared infinitely larger ¡ª as though he would burst through the manor¡¯s lofty ceiling and into the clouds above.

    Baron Marwood was everlasting. He towered over them all. Unswayed by the wind, and unfeeling of the cold, he reached directly toward the sun to gather vitality from its light. And the resolution in his jade eyes told them that he would protect all who made their homes in his shade.

    Stroud struggled violently against that feeling of comfort and shelter as he stood behind Celina in the recesses of the hall. Tempting as it was to give in, he knew that he could only advance towards his goals if he pushed there himself.

    ¡°Congratulations, Father.¡± Maeve was the first one to speak. She stood at the base of the imperial staircase in the entryway, Landon and Lady Marwood at her sides. Her bow was low and deep.

    Baron Marwood¡¯s grin threatened to split his cheeks at the seams as he gazed down at his family and confidants from the landing. His skin was rosy, shining with a healthy glow that it lacked previously, and it appeared as though nothing could strike down his mood. The man didn¡¯t speak, choosing instead to laugh loudly and freely as he so loved to do, taking each step slowly as he descended.Stolen novel; please report.

    As soon as he landed on the floor, Lady Marwood leaped into his broad chest, weeping like a child, and immense relief was evident in the tenderness of the Baron¡¯s replying embrace.

    This wasn¡¯t the first time he had attempted to make his breakthrough, and the chances of his success would lower with each succeeding one. Without the appearance of the Spirit Core, he may have been stuck forever at the upper edge of the First Grade.

    A seemingly insurmountable obstacle like that could grind away at the soul. Slowly draining the world of all its joy and splendor until all that remained was the image of success you had conjured in your mind. You could see it, almost feel it as you stared through the glass that separated you from your imagined happiness.

    Stroud knew that feeling all too well, but unlike the Baron, he had never been able to push through that final barrier in his past life ¡ª or even muster the self-awareness to tear his gaze away. A painful knot twisted in his stomach until he felt a hand on his lower back.

    He looked back over his shoulder and saw Celina smiling at him. His own look of happiness stared back at her, but the squirming pit in his gut only grew denser. Heavier.

    For the first time, Stroud regretted embracing a new life. Knowing what he did, he never felt safe to indulge in relationships and simple pleasures like this. He had lost them all once. And he didn¡¯t think he could bear the agony of losing them again.

    All the more reason I mustn¡¯t allow myself to fail.

    From their corner, Stroud and Celina continued to watch the family¡¯s joyous reunion. Only after all the hugs, kisses, and pats on the back had been exhausted did they make their move.

    Celina led, striding over to the Baron to offer her compliments and fill him in on a few matters that she deemed important. At her back, Stroud waited, mulling over the words he would speak countless times in his head.

    A chance. He saw it as the Baron walked away. The man may never be in a better mood in his entire life than he was now.

    ¡°Excuse me, my Liege,¡± he called out. Stroud¡¯s back was straight as an arrow as he set his jaw in a hard line.

    ¡°Ah, Stroud¡­ Is there something you¡¯d like to report as well?¡± Baron Marwood turned his head. Landon, who was leading him back up the stairs, did the same. Their frowns contained no malice, but there was an evident impatience in the way the rest of their bodies remained facing forward.

    ¡°Apologies. I know this isn¡¯t the best time, but I fear I may not receive another chance if I don¡¯t beg this of you now. I¡¯d like to call upon that favor you once said you would grant me¡­¡± Stroud trailed off, bowing his head while his eyes remained upturned.

    The Baron stopped and spun wholly around to face him. He didn¡¯t respond with any words, but his expression told Stroud he was listening attentively.

    ¡°...When the representative arrives to examine the Madam¡­ I¡¯d like to receive an assessment as well.¡±

    ¡°Stroud, what use is there in that¡ª¡± Landon was cut off as Baron Marwood¡¯s aura surged outwards once more. But this time, it lacked all of its previous gentle reassurance. There was only a weathered strength that flowed from the man and connected him to the floor. He had made his decision and he wouldn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not. But that is not all you desire, is it?¡±

    Stroud¡¯s head dipped even lower as he nodded. ¡°I would also like to accompany the Madam to the Arcanium as her attendant if I¡¯m not received as a student.¡±

    Baron Marwood rubbed his chin for a long while, seemingly distracted by the distinct lack of a second one beneath it. ¡°That is something I already expected of you, Stroud. Speak on what you need.¡±

    ¡°Coin, my Liege. There are some extra preparations I¡¯d like to make in order to ensure Miss Marwood¡¯s safety at all times.¡±

    ¡°Draft up a list and have it delivered to Landon by the end of the week. I¡¯ll assist you with what I can.¡± The Baron dismissed him with a wave after saying such and continued off to his study with the steward in tow.

    Stroud basked in his victory, small as it was. He felt a strong desire to seize on this momentum and carry on with the next step in his plan. The first layer of his mindscape was clear. It was time to begin imprinting the sigil.

    ***

    Surrounded by a nest of clothes and blankets, Stroud huddled in their warmth atop his bed. He held the Imbuement of Strength sigil in his lap, tracing his eyes across the dark symbols with a burning intensity. They stood out with such clarity against the rough, yellowish parchment, that it looked as if they would leap off the page and directly into his mind should he bid them to.

    ¡®If only it was that easy.¡¯ He smiled wryly and rolled up the scroll. There was no need for him to look at it in the first place. Since long ago, he¡¯d memorized its content down to every last stain and wrinkle on the page.

    Tonight, he¡¯d only looked at it to remember one thing: the feeling he had when he first held it within his grasp. The wonder and excitement that had filled him.

    He wanted to use those feelings as extra fuel for the imprinting to come.

    It would be much different than the process of scraping away the fog. He would have to dig deeper, engraving the sigil into the smooth slate-like surface of the first layer. There was no room for error, and by all accounts, it would be a taxing and painful experience.

    Stroud exhaled as if blowing smoke, following up with a series of short and stunted breaths. It meant nothing in the context of the task, but was merely another exercise in hyping himself up.

    ¡®Just get on with it...¡¯ he growled.

    A vast and grey expanse unraveled in his vision as he pushed his consciousness into his Spirit Locus. Gently, he floated down toward the semicircular ring at its base that shone with a pristine glint. It looked much like a blackboard that had just been wiped clean with a sponge.

    Shifting his mind¡¯s eye from left to right, Stroud hesitated. He¡¯d already made a decision about where he would engrave the sigil on the first layer, but it was hard not to second guess himself in the moment.

    Three spell sigils. That was his current limit. Was it truly wise to use one of them now?

    It wouldn¡¯t be long until he had access to more information, or so he anticipated. More spells. And likely spells much better suited to him.

    But could he afford to wait?

    There was a constant sense of prickling danger lingering on the edge of his perception. He¡¯d long grown used to it ¡ª knowing it was more a reflection of his anxiety than anything else ¡ª but it wasn¡¯t something he could wholly dismiss either. It was best not to leave things up to chance.

    Regret was something he feared more than anything else.

    He needed to act decisively. In many respects, he wished to return to being that monstrosity who carved his way through the Chasm and emerged before the river of souls.

    Swelling with determination, Stroud molded his thoughts into the shape of a point chisel and raised its edge to the surface of the slate. There were many ways to imprint a sigil, but the key was visualizing something you were most comfortable with.

    And something deep within his soul had pleaded with him to take on this form. Stroud called upon that feeling, allowing it to guide him as he began to hammer and chip away at the surface of his mind.

    Each strike stung like a sharp pinch on his skin, but his concentration was unwavering. His hands flowed with practiced ease as the picture of the engraving grew increasingly vivid in his imagination.

    Starting his efforts in the bottom left-hand corner of the sigil¡¯s outermost layer, Stroud went to work. Chips and shavings fluttered down into the void, and peace came to him quickly.

    A soft symphony akin to the vibrant blossoming of Spring drifted through the lonely sculptor¡¯s studio as the surrounding fog faded away.

    In time, all that was left was an artist and his canvas. It was a medium he¡¯d never had a chance to work with before, but he had a feeling he would produce his best work yet...

 Chapter 8

    Reeve Mainard grimaced as he plopped down into the slush of mud and snow. First, his new cloak had been caked in a layer of flaking grime. And now, his freshly polished boots had fallen victim.

    ¡®What was even the point¡­?¡¯ His heart ached as he felt the shallow weight of his coin purse. He¡¯d wanted to look good for his new appointment as an examiner and instructor, but the weather had seen it fit to render him a wet mongrel instead.

    A warm breeze drifted through the damp fabric clinging lightly to his skin. It carried with it an earthy smell; fresh and light. Spring would be coming sooner than expected, but that only grated on Reeve¡¯s nerves all the more.

    He longed for the calming scent of his favorite lavender incense and the sterile chambers of the Tzalmere Sanctum. It was still hard for him to accept that soon, all of his hard-earned peace would be gone, intruded upon by a bunch of young and ignorant apprentices.

    But... Lady Adelais had given him a choice. He could only live with the consequences of his decision now.

    Sighing deeply, Reeve took the mare¡¯s reins into his hand and sloshed over to the man waiting for him in front of the manor house.

    Both the home and the man were rather unimpressive in his eyes. The architecture was uninspired. Weathered and rustic like the whole of this meager fiefdom. He supposed that it did have a certain charm to it. Some preferred the simplicity of the countryside, after all. But Reeve¡¯s eyes were those of a city dweller through and through, and all he saw was a vast and empty land before him. Where could one find entertainment in a place like this?

    ¡°Welcome, honored representative.¡± The Magus deferred to him, bowing.

    This was a simple act, but it carried a lot of meaning. Magi of the same Order ¡ª or even a lower one ¡ª would almost never bow to one another. But this man had. Reeve could respect that willingness. He felt that too many of his peers clung uselessly to a false sense of superiority; when in truth, they were nothing more than ants to the likes of the Marchioness. Their pride was useless in the face of real power and influence.

    ¡°Please, straighten yourself up. I think we share a similar fate ¡ª you and me.¡±

    Looking somewhat bemused by his words, the man rose hesitantly.

    Reeve revealed his intent by unmasking his aura. He smiled as understanding flashed through the greeter¡¯s eyes.

    Diluted. That the best word for them both. Men whose Seas of Nura had been flushed with impurities as a result of chugging down one too many poorly concocted elixirs in a foolish bid to push themselves toward the next cycle.

    They were kindred spirits in that their ignorance and impatience led them into the service of another.

    ¡°Landon.¡± The man reached out his hand.

    ¡°Reeve,¡± he replied, accepting the proffered shake. Their eyes met, and nothing more needed to be said.

    ¡°Shall we head inside?¡± Landon gestured to the stairway behind them.

    ¡°Let¡¯s.¡±

    After beckoning for a nearby servant to receive Reeve¡¯s steed, Landon ushered him into the manor¡¯s entryway.

    The hospitality was quite generous, he had to admit. A decent-looking maid received his cloak and boots for a wash while providing a pair of cozy slippers. And Lady Marwood was already waiting in the hall to offer some hot tea and hors d oeuvres.

    While his eyes idly roamed around the building''s interior, Reeve gratefully accepted the former but refused the latter. More valuable than anything was his time. He wished nothing more than to finish this visit quickly and move on to the next.

    Fortunately, his hosts understood this point well. The Lady quickly dismissed herself while the Baron and his daughter were already prepared, waiting for him in the second-floor study.

    They stood up from their seats with haste as he entered the room behind Landon.

    ¡°Greetings, Sir¡­¡± The colossal man positioned in front of the cold fireplace trailed off, waiting for him to offer up his name.

    ¡°...Reeve. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Marwood.¡± This time, it was Reeve¡¯s turn to bow. He was in the presence of a Baron. One who had clearly advanced to the Second Order. That was something deserving of respect.

    His hair stood on end as the man swept his vivid green eyes over him. He was both excited and terrified. Lady Adelais would be pleased to learn that the Baron had succeeded, but it was impossible for Reeve not to feel uncomfortable standing within an aura that so greatly eclipsed his own.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to meet you as well, Sir Reeve. I appreciate you coming all the way out here. I know the journey is not an easy one from Frostrane.¡±

    Reeve scoffed as he unslung his satchel and placed it down atop the empty table in the room. ¡°I¡¯ve long wished to experience more of the northern reaches. So for me, this was no trouble.¡± He wore his most gracious smile as he lied through his teeth.

    The baron laughed at his words, holding his rumbling stomach with both hands. ¡°You can speak freely with me, Sir Reeve. I won¡¯t be offended.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ I-I meant¡­¡± Reeve¡¯s tongue flopped around uselessly in his mouth as he fiddled with the clasp on his bag.

    ¡°Father¡­¡± the young Madam glared reproachfully at the rosy-cheeked man, rescuing Reeve from his floundering.

    Baron Marwood sighed. ¡°My apologies. We¡¯re here for business, not to satisfy my poor sense of humor.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Lord Marwood.¡± Coughing lightly into his hand, Reeve focused himself and swiftly retrieved the necessary examination tools. With care, he laid them out in the precise order of their use. Once satisfied with the arrangements, he glanced up and addressed the room, ¡°Before we get into it, I¡¯d like to clarify exactly what parameters I¡¯ll be using to assess, Miss Marwood.¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Baron Marwood and his daughter moved over to the opposite end of the table. The girl looked curiously over the instruments, just as he¡¯d seen all the candidates do before her. The man; however, had locked Reeve firmly in his sights. ¡°But there¡¯s one thing I¡¯d like to ask first ¡ª if you¡¯ll indulge me.¡±

    ¡°By all means¡­¡± he gestured for the Baron to continue.

    ¡°There¡¯s another among my vassals, of a suitable age, that I¡¯d like to have examined.¡±

    Not unusual. Reeve saw the man¡¯s eyes flicker to a dark corner of the room and his own soon followed.

    Standing perfectly straight in the shadows cast by the crackling fireplace was a thin and unassuming young man. His deep-set brown eyes stared passively into the room, looking at no one in particular, but Reeve could feel a powerful spiritual perception originating from the boy, and it suddenly sliced through the shroud that clouded his Sea.

    He shivered. There was something menacing about the way the boy had pried open his secrets so easily, though he knew it was mostly unintentional. It was like watching a novice swordsman practicing with a real blade for the first time. The young man wielded his perception roughly, forgetting that the edge was genuinely sharp should he have swung it in your direction.

    ¡°Stroud¡ª!¡± standing off to the side, Landon hissed a warning.

    The boy startled as the realization of what he¡¯d just done dawned on his face. His mouth hung open awkwardly before he leaned over in a hurried bow. ¡°Apologies, Sir Reeve. That was uncouth of me.¡±

    Reeve held up his hands to demonstrate he took no offense. Then, he took a deep breath and continued on with his spiel, ¡°It¡¯s well within our purview to examine any who the Lord wishes. Though, I can¡¯t promise any more than a reading of his affinities.¡±

    ¡°That is all we would ask,¡± Baron Marwood grimaced awkwardly as though embarrassed by something. But Reeve quickly put it out of his mind.

    ¡°Who would you like to start with?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Stroud, you¡¯re up first.¡±

    Reeve regarded the approaching boy with wariness.

    ***

    ''I''ve laid out all my cards, and I trust that this man will report to the Marchioness diligently. Now... all that remains is her decision. Based on my impression of her during our meeting, I have no doubt she''ll remember me...''

    The examination went about as well as Stroud could have hoped.

    Despite the chill still lingering within the manor¡¯s walls, the representative was sweating bullets. His silky, baby blue doublet had been dyed the deep azure shade of the sea, and he constantly sent glances into the corner where Stroud waited to observe Maeve¡¯s results.

    Landon had wanted to send him out of the room as soon as his reading was finished, but the Madam¡¯s competitive spirit had been roused, and she insisted that he remain in the study ¡ª much to the examiner¡¯s dismay.

    The man was rattled. Unnerved. Just as Stroud wanted. Even if he would be stepping on Maeve¡¯s toes by showing off his impressive affinities, he sought to leave a lasting impression that would make its way back to Lady Adelais.

    Two trembling hands unlatched the metal box resting in the center of the desk. This would be the final step of the comprehensive exam.

    A softly glowing crystal orb laid on a bed of feathers inside. It rolled to and fro playfully as the sputtering light of the candles landed upon it ¡ª almost as if it was engaging in a game of hide-and-seek with the hands that sought it out. By the time the visiting Magus had wrangled it, the table was covered in a smattering of the full, stark-white feathers.

    He lifted the orb, chuckling dryly as he walked precariously around the desk to offer the capture to Maeve.

    ¡°Go on, take it. Quickly¡ª¡± he urged, shaking the orb in front of Maeve¡¯s wide eyes. She glanced around nervously before stretching out her hands while wincing and looking away. From her reaction, you might think that the man was about dump a horrifying insect into her grasp.

    The perfectly round little creature leaped into her palms with none of the hesitations she was demonstrating and unhinged the gaping jaw that spanned its entire body. Dark and unfathomable, a hungry vortex churned within its body.

    Stroud shuddered and pressed himself further into the corner until his back bumped against a wooden shelf.

    ¡°Feed it from your Spiritual Sea,¡± Reeve instructed as he dabbed away the moisture on his forehead with a cloth. Still, Maeve faltered. ¡°It won¡¯t hurt. Gluttonous Sprites are generally harmless. We only use them to measure the purity and quantity of a Magi¡¯s Nura.¡±

    A puff of gold mist sprung from Maeve¡¯s hands without warning, scattering minuscule particles that were visible to the eye like a cloud of pollen. They floated gently in the air with streaks of green dancing in their midst.

    The brief flash of light was immediately inhaled by the Sprite. And as a more controlled stream of energy followed, it continued sucking it up without pause. Rich gold light the color of honey swirled within the opaque body, drawing thin trails of smoke as emerald roots crawled along the sprite¡¯s skin. Like a dry paintbrush meeting water, Maeve¡¯s Nura dyed the creature her color.

    It was a beautiful sight to behold, but one that was short-lived.

    Reeve snatched the sprite out of the Madam¡¯s grasp and stuffed it back into the box in a flurry of motion that Stroud found hard to follow. And as she stood rooted in place, panting, the man announced her results.

    ¡°Mixture of Sanctus and wood element gaseous Nura of moderate purity ¡ª approaching the first round of initial condensation and compression.¡±

    To Stroud, those words meant nothing, but he suspected the result was good if the pleased smile Landon wore was any indication. Baron Marwood also struggled to keep his obvious joy from showing.

    After finishing with his final notes, Reeve snapped up his journal and began stuffing his supplies back into his bag. ¡°I think Lady Adelais will be most pleased with both candidates, but I can make no guarantees for a vassal. There is no need to have either participate in the upcoming Selections... Unless you plan to consider other Arcaniums ¡ª as is your right.¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡± The Baron waved his hands. ¡°We are most pleased with the terms of Lady Adelais¡¯ offer.¡±

    ¡°That is most assuredly the best choice. I have seen the environment being prepared for the students with my own eyes. And I can say with confidence that there is no better within the Principality.¡± Reeve bowed again to Baron Marwood, holding his satchel against his chest with both arms. ¡°I wish I could stay and share insights with such accomplished Magi as yourselves, but I must be off at once to my next meeting.¡±

    The Baron sighed and clasped the man on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. ¡°We appreciate you sharing your time to travel out here. Should you ever find yourself nearby again ¡ª for any reason ¡ª don¡¯t hesitate to stop by. We would love to properly host you then, Sir Reeve.¡±

    Landon voiced his agreement, ¡°Indeed. I do hope our paths have the chance to cross once more.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m undeserving of your kindness.¡± Reeve tidied himself up, a smile creeping onto his face as he nodded to them both. ¡°I¡¯ll be working with the other instructors at the School, so Maeve is free to seek me out if she¡¯s ever in need of assistance.¡±

    ¡°You have my thanks.¡±

    Reeve shouldered his pack and turned to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be off then. I wish you all good health and fortune in this new year.

    As the old, rusted hinges of the door protested against their sudden movement, Stroud suppressed his eagerness in the shadows.

 Chapter 9

    Old Witch Gau. It was a name Stroud heard often in his visits to Ebbinside.

    She was something of a legend in the community. An omnipresent existence. The woman helped deliver babies, tended to the wounded hunters, and brewed medicine for the sick ¡ª seemingly all at once if you went by the stories.

    But as soon as Stroud made an effort to find her, it was as if she had become a ghost. No more than an idea with which to entertain travelers or scare off ruffians.

    Every. single. time... he would just miss her. She would be spotted heading to the butcher¡¯s in the morning only to appear across town in the market when he arrived in the rancid, bloody shop. Then, after a hurried trip to the square, a passerby would point him toward the apothecary on the southern outskirts where he had seen the witch last.

    No matter what, Stroud always seemed to be chasing after her tail. There were days he just ran around randomly in hopes of bumping into her, but he had to quickly put an end to that after earning a reputation for harassing old women.

    It was immensely frustrating. And if not for the vehement word of Hastyr and the Chief, Stroud really would have believed the townspeople were just tooling him around.

    He could accept that it was part of her mystique ¡ª only appearing where and when she was needed...

    But he needed her now. So why was this so difficult?

    There were only a few days left until he would be traveling with Landon and Maeve to Frostrane. The Mors he had received from the Baron to buy supplies jingled conspicuously in his purse, but he had none of the tools he thought he needed to ensure his safety in a crowded city full of Magi.

    Stroud exhaled a deep breath, leaning against the damp logs of a cabin. It had rained again last night and the streets of Ebbinside were slick with mud.

    Overhead, the dark clouds continued their hurried passage through the skies, threatening to unleash more of their burden should they find themselves displeased with the gazes of those below.

    There¡¯s always more rain. Stroud craned his neck, looking skyward. For days on end, it had continued. Flooding the brook that flowed through the valley and washing away the final traces of dirt-smeared snow. The First Crossing was approaching at the end of an unrelenting storm.

    A bad omen. Stroud heard the whispers. Disorder. The new year would be full of unrest as the old was swept away by the violent waters of change.

    He¡¯d never been one to buy into superstitions, but Stroud felt the unease in his gut growing. Like a parasite, it fed on his fears as it wormed its way to his mind where it nestled comfortably.

    A low growl rumbled through his chest as Stroud unleashed some of his burdens, kicking his boot into a nearby puddle in agitation. He watched as the droplets soared through the air to finally land on the hem of a tattered grey cloak.

    ¡°What¡¯s all the fuss, child? If there is something bothering you ¡ª speak with your elders. Sulking here in an alley does no one any good.¡±

    Stroud sighed as he heard the aged, raspy voice. Another offense to add to his list of transgressions against the old women of Ebbinside.

    He bowed without looking at the speaker. ¡°My apologies, Ma¡¯am. I allowed my frustrations to get the better of me.¡±

    Cackling laughter, that sounded like an old parchment being crumpled, entered into his ears. Startled, Stroud finally gazed up at the other party.

    She sported none of the traits that were so common in this area. Her hair was thin and grey, scattered across her forehead in a frizzy mess, and her eyes were a pale yellow shade that appeared almost feral in nature.

    How had he never seen her before?

    Pretty much all of the townsfolk had thick blonde hair and blue eyes, so this woman should have stood out like a black sheep among the flock.

    Her broad grin revealed decayed and yellowing teeth, with quite a few missing in-between. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since someone addressed me as Ma¡¯am. So I suppose I can forgive your lack of actual remorse.¡±

    It¡¯s her. Stroud¡¯s mind stumbled through the errant block of surprise that threw it off-balance. He reached out, opening his mouth to call out to her. She was so close, but she already seemed to be slipping away.

    ¡°What¡¯re grabbing at me for, boy?¡± the woman snapped as she shrunk away from his hand. One of her eyes opened wider than the other, observing him cautiously. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re the one who¡¯s been harassing everyone? I¡¯ll scream for help if you take another step¡­¡±

    Stroud flinched back immediately, retracting his hand and holding it tightly with his other as if to prevent it from acting on its own will. ¡°Ah¡­ Are you¡­ are you the old witch, Gau?¡±

    ¡°I much prefer Ma¡¯am¡­¡± the old woman began shuffling around Stroud like a crab as she attempted to pass him by. ¡°...But that is what they call me around here.¡±

    ¡°Please!¡± Stroud¡¯s hand shot out again subconsciously, but he quickly wrangled it back in. ¡°I just need a moment of your time!¡±

    Gau froze, her legs spread wide apart in an awkward stance. ¡°What¡¯re you after?¡±

    ¡°Potions, elixirs, whatever you¡¯d like to call them. I have a¡­ unique condition, and I need some medicine to help me out. I¡¯m willing to reward you generously for any help.¡± Stroud¡¯s words tumbled out of his mouth like a landslide and his heart palpitated wildly. He had no idea why he was so nervous speaking to this woman.

    ¡°Rewards¡ª¡± the witch scoffed. She held up her hand and rubbed her fingers together in the universal sign for money. ¡°I only care about coins that shine of silver and gold. Don¡¯t speak to me as if you¡¯re some Lord offering his vassal a pat on the back for a job well done.¡±

    After that quip, Stroud decided it was best to hold his tongue altogether. He held up his coin purse and gave it a shake for her to hear.

    ¡°Good. That¡¯s all that needs to be said between friends.¡± Gau cracked another toothy grin. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything to mend that shattered Spiritual Sea of yours, but we can still take a look at my wares. Come along¡­¡± She spun around, whipping the tatters of her cloak through the air in a pompous manner as she stalked off toward the woods at the edge of town.

    For a moment, Stroud felt stuck in place, sinking into the mud as he realized that Gau had seen right through him from the very start. As for himself, he hadn¡¯t even detected a trace of her spiritual perception or aura. He wondered how safe it was to follow after her...

    But the witch moved with a speed that belied her age; there was no time to falter if he didn¡¯t want to lose her again.

    Stroud¡¯s boots lifted from the brown sludge with a wet suction-like noise as he ran towards the dark forest.

    Gnarled, grasping branches and dense underbrush did their best to impede his progress, but Stroud was unwilling to lose sight of the woman ¡ª another spark of hope. He scampered along the trail, his ragged breath sounding loudly in his ears...

    ***

    Following a short hike, they emerged from the damp and springy shadows, arriving in a clearing devoid of the dense moss and trees, characteristic of the mountains.

    The old witch hurried into a ramshackle hut at the edge of the glen while Stroud followed closely, picking his way carefully through the small herb garden out front.

    ¡°Cloak off. Let me get a good look at you, boy.¡± Gau croaked out as Stroud closed the thatch door behind him.

    He quickly did as the witch bid after noticing that she had done the same. It was a bit of an odd request, but he didn¡¯t think there was any kind of strange intention hidden behind it. Cautiously, Stroud took in her decrepit form as he folded up his cloak in his arms.

    Appearing devoid of all vitality, her dry, withered skin clung tightly to her bones, and in contrast, the plain trousers and tunic that she wore drooped loosely from her stick-thin frame.

    Gau attempted to roll her sleeves up past her sharp elbows, but they slid right back down, in contempt of her efforts. She huffed in annoyance as she began rummaging around through the many wicker baskets that cluttered the floor of the hut. ¡°Alright. What kind of potions are you after?¡±

    ¡°Liquid Nura. Should danger find me, I need something I can use to help me cast spells¡ª¡± Stroud gagged suddenly, covering his nose and mouth with the water-logged cloth in his arms. It was really difficult to see anything in the dim room ¡ª as Gau had lit no candles ¡ª but whatever she had just uncorked smelled something awful. The acrid aroma stung his nose before traveling down into his lungs where it left him no room to breathe.

    He coughed loudly a few times which seemed to attract the witch¡¯s attention as she stood and turned around to face him.

    ¡°What attribute of Nura, boy?¡± she grumbled, placing her hands on her hips as she glared at him. ¡°You sound so assured, but you come to me without even knowing what you need¡­¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°I-I have a primal affinity and an invocation spell in my possession¡­¡± Stroud forced out as he regathered himself.

    ¡°Raw Nura then. Well, you should know that raw Nura isn¡¯t cheap. Even though it pervades our surroundings, natural ingredients that gather pure arcane energy are difficult to come by ¡ª especially in these parts. And on top of that, the distilling process can take years¡­¡±

    Stroud waved a hand. ¡°I don¡¯t need it to be perfect¡­ Just enough for me to use.¡±

    Gau clicked her tongue as she returned her attention to the baskets. ¡°Half-measures will yield half-results, boy.¡±

    ¡°Well, unless you know of someone or some method to heal my Sea ¡ª this is the best I can do for myself right now.¡± Stroud clenched his jaw to prevent his frustration from leaking as he spread his spiritual perception through the room. A chaotic jumble of results returned to his mind, swirling around in a multi-colored haze before he felt his consciousness abruptly slapped away when it approached the witch.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t anyone ever tell you that was rude,¡± Gau grumbled as she waded through the mess. She soon arrived at a long counter that she leaned over, rummaging around like a raccoon digging through the trash. Her bony fingers tossed scraps of paper and empty sacks through the musty air.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you look at me first,¡± Stroud retorted before he could bite back his tongue.

    He heard a muffled snort from behind the wood. ¡°I didn¡¯t look at you, I looked around you. That empty hole in your gut makes you more conspicuous than you realize. Your body appears like a void in the haze of energy.¡±

    Stroud grimaced as those words pierced his heart with the sharpness of a knife. Everyone at the estate tended to tread carefully around the topic of his injury. He¡¯d never had someone speak of it so matter-of-factly. ¡°You make it sound like there¡¯s nothing that can be done about my Sea.¡±

    Gau grunted with exertion as she hauled a heavy wood case onto the counter and dusted it off with her hand. ¡°No. There just ain¡¯t no way to heal it.¡±

    ¡°...What do you mean by that?¡± Stroud took a hesitant step forward.

    The witch slowly unlatched and opened the case, shaking her head. ¡°And here I was thinking you Magi were supposed to be a learned, scholarly folk... The wound is already healed, boy. Poorly. It¡¯s been too long since your injury to make amends now. There may be a scar on the surface, but the Sea below it is as good as gone. It¡¯s not as simple as piecing it back together like a shattered mason jar.¡±

    ¡°But the Baron said that¡ª¡±

    Gau snapped the case in her hands shut. ¡°Don¡¯t believe anyone around the northern reaches that says they can fix an injury like that. They¡¯re either liars or fools. The kind of spell required¡­ well, it would have to be capable of reversing the flow of the time. More than likely, you¡¯ll need to find some way to regrow a completely new one.¡±

    ¡°So there¡¯s a way¡­¡± Stroud breathed out.

    ¡°There¡¯s always a way ¡ª should the heavens will it.¡± Gau approached with three thin vials in her hand. The substance inside of them was as clear as the water of a pure mountain spring, but it sloshed around leaving trails on the glass like it had a syrupy texture. ¡°I¡¯ll cut you a deal. Three standard doses of raw Nura for 8 gold Mors.¡±

    Stroud clenched his hands into fists, splattering drops of water onto the floor as he wrung out the cloak. That price seemed outrageous. It was more than half of what they¡¯d paid for the Spirit Core, and he¡¯d only been given 10 gold Mors and some change, in total, for buying supplies.

    ¡°How many times can each dose allow me to cast?¡±

    ¡°Boy, you¡¯re lucky I¡¯m such a gentle and kind old woman because anyone else would have snatched every last coin from you while leaving you with nothing more than piss-water¡­.¡± The bird¡¯s nest of twigs, leaves, and thin hair on Gau¡¯s head bobbed up and down as she lectured him. ¡°This is some high purity stuff, but the amount of times you can cast is all dependent on the spell. That¡¯s something you¡¯ll have to figure out for yourself. Most people wouldn¡¯t even think of using an external Nura source to cast either. They¡¯d be sucking this down into their Sea to advance or using it for their own concoctions. Such a waste...¡±

    Stroud¡¯s frown sunk so deep that it threatened to spill below his chin. ¡°What other choice do I have? I can¡¯t defend myself without it.¡±

    ¡°What exactly are you defending yourself from, huh?¡± Gau was practically manic as she waved her arms around. ¡°Stars above, child¡ª! Do you understand that carrying this Nura around will invite more danger to yourself than anything you could possibly be imagining right now? Even that soft old Baron would be tempted to snatch them from your grasp¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, then what am I supposed to do!¡± Stroud shouted, his chest heaving. ¡°I can hardly pick up a sword, and I can¡¯t cast a spell¡­ Am I just supposed to bend over and offer my head?¡±

    ¡°Of course not! You¡¯re supposed to think!¡± Gau dashed toward Stroud with a speed he couldn¡¯t track and flicked him square in the forehead.

    The force of the blow rippled through his mind and quelled his brewing anger in an instant.

    ¡°Don¡¯t allow your fear to bend your thoughts to its will. You know nothing about the ways of cultivation, yet you came to me with answers in your head instead of questions.¡±

    ¡°I-I¡­¡± Stroud paused and inhaled a long, shuddering breath. ¡°I apologize¡­ I don¡¯t have much time before I¡¯ll be leaving and I allowed my urgency to push me into an imagined corner.¡±

    ¡°As long as you know,¡± Gau grunted, crossing her arms across her chest. ¡°Now, go on¡­ ask me.¡±

    Stroud¡¯s eyes turned up toward the ceiling, tracing across the rotted wood planks and cobwebs as he sunk into thought. ¡°What can I do to¡­ improve myself?¡±

    ¡°Start with your body,¡± Gau stated bluntly. ¡°Cultivation is all about balance: between the body, mind, and spirit. You Magi have a tendency to lump the mind and spirit together, but I can assure you ¡ª they are very different. I think one of the reasons you may be feeling so anxious is because your spirit vastly outstrips your mind and body.¡±

    ¡°Can that be dangerous?¡± Stroud twitched, wondering exactly how much she knew about his soul.

    ¡°Yes. Very. It places a lot of strain on your other aspects.¡±

    ¡°All right¡­¡± he began slowly, trying to suppress his resurging agitation. ¡°Then how can I improve my body? And how worried should I be about my spirit?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll improve your body with these.¡± Gau unfurled her hand, revealing the vials of Nura again. ¡°As for your impending death¡­¡± she casually tapped a finger against her chin, ¡°I¡¯d say you have a decade, give or take a couple of years, before the pressure from your spirit ruptures your body and collapses your mind. All of this can be solved by advancing into the second realm of Mortal Shaping.¡±

    ¡°...Of what?

    The witch waved her hand dismissively. ¡°The Second Order, or whatever you call it. You get the idea.¡±

    Stroud¡¯s heart sunk into his stomach where it settled next to a new knot of squirming concern. That was an awfully vague and short amount of time to accomplish such a monumental task ¡ª even for someone who had an intact Sea of Nura. Most Magi in the reaches didn¡¯t advance to the Second Order until they were in their 40s, like Baron Marwood.

    He spoke through clenched teeth, ¡°I¡­ understand. So, how can I use this Nura to improve my body?¡±

    ¡°Same way as any other practitioner. I¡¯ll help you through one round of energy dispersion as an added bonus, but I¡¯ll still be needing those Mors.¡± Gau¡¯s cheeky grin was almost enough to set him off, but Stroud controlled himself at the last moment.

    He didn¡¯t wholly trust the witch, but neither could he think of any reason to refuse. She¡¯d already demonstrated an overwhelming superiority. And if she was really interested in swindling his money ¡ª she could just take it by force. They were all alone out in the woods, after all.

    But if her method worked, Stroud would certainly reap some benefits. If it didn¡¯t¡­ well, there wasn¡¯t much that could be done to weaken his body further.

    ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s get this started ¡ª now, if possible¡­¡±

    ¡°Right, right¡­ you¡¯re a very busy man. How could I forget¡­¡± the old crone remarked sarcastically, but she began clearing a space amidst the clutter on the floor.

    When it was wide enough, Stroud placed his belongings to the side and sat down in its center, assuming a meditative position.

    ¡°The first step is easy,¡± Gau instructed from above, ¡°Just drink the Nura and let it settle into the space below your navel. Though I should warn you: this stuff is raw, so it''s likely to be quite painful.¡± She poured out a spoonful of the liquid into a nearby cup and brought it down to Stroud¡¯s lips.

    He took a deep breath, then pinched his nose and crumpled his face, gulping it down like it was some sort of nasty medicine.

    Power. Destruction. Dominance.

    Raw Nura was everything Stroud imagined it to be.

    It felt like he¡¯d swallowed a lightning bolt whole.

    The potent liquid traveled down his throat in a sizzling torrent. He could feel its progress clearly as it slithered down through his chest and into his gut, leaving scorched and frayed nerves in its wake.

    Unable to exhibit any measure of self-control, Stroud¡¯s eyes bulged and his mouth flopped open, emitting an inaudible roar.

    ¡°The next few times won¡¯t be so tough ¡ª push through it,¡± Gau urged.

    He struggled, but his body only contorted and spasmed awkwardly as if a puppeteer was jerking him around. All the while, a bloating feeling spread through his lower body, swelling rapidly.

    A hand pressed into his back, and the pressure building in his stomach abruptly discharged in a miniature explosion, like someone had forced him to swallow a lit firecracker instead of some viscous medicine.

    The resulting pulse of energy traveled out through his extremities in a charged wave, eventually dispelling into the atmosphere.

    Stroud gasped, finally able to draw in air, and the power in his body disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived. If it wasn¡¯t for the tingling of his skin ¡ª he may have thought it was all a brief illusion.

    ¡°Not too bad, eh?¡±

    He remained silent.

    An ache slipped through his bones and his muscles clenched tightly. It hadn¡¯t been that he felt nothing, he was just numb.

    Sensation slowly returned and he groaned loudly as all the pain that had been suppressed washed through his system.

    Undeterred, Gau continued babbling on, ignoring his moans and gasps, ¡°You¡¯re gonna need to rest up for a day or two before trying again. And¡­ because I won¡¯t be around to assist in the future ¡ª I¡¯ll pass along a basic breathing technique that will help you disperse the Nura.¡±

    Struggling to his feet, Stroud nodded. His tongue still felt too swollen to speak, but he fumbled through his coin purse and handed over the payment.

    The witch accepted the coins with a gracious dip of her head and handed over the vials and a tattered notebook she¡¯d pulled from who knows where.

    Stroud tucked them all away in a daze, but before he could turn to leave, Gau caught his eye.

    She tapped her forehead thrice as she spoke, ¡°Remember: mind, body, and spirit as one. Don¡¯t push your mind any further than the first layer until your body catches up.¡±

    Stroud sharpened his gaze and nodded. ¡°Thanks for the help¡­¡±

    Gau winked and practically dragged him out of the hut. His boots scraped against the floor as his mind stirred back into motion.

    A heavy mist greeted him as the door swung open and he received a final shove in the back

    ¡°Wait for just a¡ª¡± A last-second question popped into his head and Stroud turned around to¡­

    It was gone. He stood alone in the hazy glade; accompanied only by the soothing rush of the nearby creek and the steady pitter-patter of water dripping from the trees.

    Stroud stood listlessly in the clearing, rolling the vials of Nura between his fingers as he pressed the rough cover of the journal against his palm.

    A heavy drop of water landed on his head and trickled down the back of his neck, evoking a shiver.

    ¡°Fuck! ...She stole my cloak.¡±

 Chapter 10

    Staring at his reflection in the full-length mirror, Reeve sighed. He fidgeted with the stiff collar of his robe and tightened the silver sash around his waist... but something was still off.

    The colors?

    No. He liked those, he had to admit. The layering of white trim atop the soft sky blue was a nice touch. But it didn¡¯t slim him down as much as the old black uniform did. Though, this new one would look better on the students.

    Is my wig on crooked?

    Not that either. The brown curls bounced in his hands. A bit too unnaturally, but his colleagues all knew it was a piece anyway.

    He sighed again. Lady Adelais would be expecting him soon.

    Turning around, he swept his eyes over the pile of boxes cluttering the room. Moving was always a pain ¡ª even if there would be others handling the heavy lifting.

    But this time, it will be to the upper halls of the Sanctum, Reeve!

    Typically reserved for visiting Magi of the Second Order or greater, the living spaces of the upper halls would be an improvement from his current conditions in almost every way. He tried to cheer himself up, but the excitement rang hollow.

    Every little irritant seemed to nag so fiercely at his mind, while everything he should have been celebrating retreated from the ghastly visage of his fears. Reeve knew himself well enough to realize why he felt the way he did, but it did nothing to stop the tumultuous roiling of his emotions.

    The former Marchioness was playing a dangerous game, and he¡¯d tagged along willingly as soon as she dangled a juicy prize in front of him like he was one of her prized Vellatzals.

    Up until the recruitment trip, he¡¯d been able to ignore the gnawing apprehension. But now, it was all too real. And things were starting to move too fast.

    Maybe in his youth, he¡¯d be able to keep up. Instead, it had become the very thing he was chasing after.

    Reeve picked his way between the boxes and unlatched the door, stepping outside into the corridor. Instantly, a gust of cool wind swept through the thin fabric of his uniform.

    He shrugged it off as best he could and continued down the long hallway.

    Servants were scurrying around everywhere as a chorus of doors slamming open and shut echoed off the tiled stone walls. Their work was swift and orderly, but there was a noticeable stiffness in their bows as they acknowledged his passing. The final preparations for the impending arrival of the apprentices were reaching their climax.

    Everyone was feeling the stress, so Reeve replied with a polite nod and a smile. Acknowledging all who he passed slowed him down significantly, but he had a reputation to uphold.

    ¡°Ah, Reeve! Off to make your report to the Headmistress?¡±

    Reeve¡¯s head swiveled toward the blue-clothed man weaving his way through the hall. His stomach sank.

    Alen Gen carried his aura with pride. His handsome face beaming in a genuine smile.

    ¡°Alen, it¡¯s been a while! And you¡¯ve guessed it. Are you just now returning from your own meeting?¡±

    The young Magus approached and shook Reeve¡¯s hand vigorously; his eyes sparkled with ambition and youthful exuberance. ¡°I got back early and concluded my meeting a few days ago¡­ It''s good to see you, friend.¡±

    Chuckling dryly, Reeve returned the man¡¯s smile. ¡°Likewise. So what brings you down into the lower halls then?¡±

    Alen broke off the hand-shake as his eyes roamed around. He exhaled a wistful sigh before he spoke, ¡°I just wanted to take a look around one last time¡­ soak up the atmosphere and the excitement¡­¡±

    Internally, Reeve rolled his eyes. Alen had only advanced from his apprenticeship last summer. He hadn¡¯t even spent a whole year as an official Magi of the Sanctum, yet he would already be moving up to the upper halls.

    ¡°I understand the feeling well. Just wait till you¡¯re an old man like me ¡ª then the nostalgia will really hit you in the gut.¡±

    Pity. The last thing Reeve wanted. But he saw it in the wrinkles around Alen¡¯s half-smile and felt it in the hand the young man placed tenderly on his shoulder. Though, he supposed he¡¯d brought it on himself with a self-deprecating line like that.

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to be the one held responsible for making you late, so I¡¯ll let you get on your way.¡± Alen transitioned his sympathetic grip to an awkward pat on the back.

    Reeve just nodded his thanks and stepped by. Alen was all too similar to himself in the past. He could already feel the first hints of sluggishness in the cold winds swirling around the man.

    But as much as he wanted to turn back and say something, Reeve only allowed himself to look forward.

    He reached the end of the hall with long strides and stomped up the narrow, spiral staircase all the way to the top floor. Each level he passed was marked by a wide window that displayed the glittering white city below.

    From the silver spires and array of towers of the inner district, all the way out to the vast tundra beyond the walls that had yet to regain its color. Arid grasses and shrubs stretched across the rolling hills in a motley sea of browns and light yellows. Whether it be this year or one soon to come, all would crumble into dust to make way for the fresh and newly sprouted greens.

    It was a view Reeve knew well. And in a few hours, it would be blanketed by heavy shadows, leaving only a cluster of twinkling lights and laughter from the city shining through the darkness...

    He¡¯d be in need of a heavy drink tonight. Begrudgingly, Reeve¡¯s feet carried him up the final steps.

    Lady Adelais¡¯ office and living-space spanned the entire length of the highest floor of the Sanctum, and the staircase exited right into the reception area.

    Reeve was greeted by her taciturn assistant, Mazar. A man who veiled himself beneath a head-wrapping and spoke more with his gestures rather than words.

    He indicated for Reeve to take a seat on one of the granite benches as he went inside to inform the headmistress.

    There were no backs to any of the benches or chairs and no hot tea was served to warm the bones. So Reeve could only sit on the cold slab, slumped forward, waiting impatiently.

    Lady Adelais was ready for him, he knew that very clearly. She was never not ready for anything. But she always made her guests wait. Long enough to grate on their nerves, but quick enough that they wouldn¡¯t grow truly angered. And it didn¡¯t matter how familiar one was with her methods. They would wait all the same. Just as he was now, despite his twenty-plus years in her service.

    The seconds on his pocket watch ticked loudly and slowly in his ears, but he wouldn¡¯t look at it. She was watching, and he didn¡¯t want to give her the satisfactionUnauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Five minutes, then ten, all the way until the twenty-second, he waited. Time passed in silence until Mazar finally returned, propping open the door. With a twitch of his head and eyes, he indicated it was time.

    Reeve stood up and followed the man into the antechamber where the twin white marble statues of the imperial vellatzals loomed over them both; the amber gemstones lodged in their eye-sockets looking down on Reeve with disdain.

    Ignoring their haughtiness, he kept his gaze trained on the door at the end of the room. It sprung open at Mazar¡¯s gentle touch, revealing Lady Adelais hunched over a stack of papers at her desk. There were no candles or adornments in the office, only a single skylight in the ceiling and glowing roots of hoarfrost that crawled up the walls.

    Reeve swallowed the lump of saliva in his throat and stepped inside. A loud slam followed him, ringing through the space as the door swung shut.

    ¡°Begin,¡± the headmistress ordered without looking up. She dipped her quill into the inkwell and pulled a fresh sheet of parchment in front of her.

    ¡°Of the four candidates I was sent to assess, three of them passed.¡±

    ¡°Who was the failure?¡± Lady Adelais¡¯ voice was dry and crisp.

    Reeve hesitated, as he watched her hand hover menacingly over the page. ¡°Viscount Berg¡¯s fourth son. B-But¡­¡± he added hurriedly, ¡°his twin ¡ª the second daughter ¡ª was the most promising of them all!¡±

    The woman¡¯s stormy eyes flickered up, and Reeve was forced to avert his gaze lest he loses himself in their abyss. He suddenly wished he¡¯d loosened his collar a bit more as it still felt awfully tight.

    ¡°Did you fail him on the spot?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ As per your instructions, I said that we would consider his admittance further during a collective meeting.¡± The back of Reeve¡¯s robe was already sticky with sweat.

    ¡°Good.¡± Lady Adelais returned to her notes. ¡°You will send a message to inform them that he meets our standards.¡±

    ¡°Y-Your Grace¡­ wouldn¡¯t the daughter be enough? The boy¡¯s foundations are deplorable ¡ª especially his Spirit Locus. Making it into the First Order is the extent of his capabilities...¡± Reeve always found himself complaining about the pride of Magi, but now, his own was rearing its ugly head. He didn¡¯t know what the viscount had been thinking when he allowed his son to butcher the process of clearing his mindscape so badly.

    She placed down her quill and Reeve began cursing himself furiously in his mind. He already knew the answer.

    ¡°Reeve¡­ I¡¯ve already told you this once. We¡¯re after connections, not talent. If I cared about attracting the most promising youths, I¡¯d have our Arcanium focus solely on the Selections and ignore private recruitment altogether. We must bring the noble families of the northern reaches uniformly to our side.¡± Her fingers strummed once across the surface of her desk as the air in the room thickened.

    ¡°I... understand¡­. Your Grace¡­¡± Reeve was having trouble finding his breath.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t correct you the first time because we¡¯re in private, but it''s Headmistress now. You¡¯d do well to remember that.¡± A visible clamp of swirling azure wind grabbed Reeve¡¯s head and forced him to meet her eyes. He would¡¯ve shuddered if his body was able to move. ¡°I see you understand. Now, what of Baron Marwood? Has he succeeded?¡±

    Reeve stumbled forward as he was released. ¡°Yes... H-Headmistress¡­¡± he wheezed out, gripping his chest as blood pumped rapidly through his veins. ¡°The result was better than anticipated, though¡ª¡± he bit his tongue wondering if he should say more. Lady Adelais was only interested in listening to what she wanted to hear.

    His thoughts tugged back and forth. But in the end, he felt like the servant boy was still worth mentioning. ¡°There was one other matter of interest...¡±

    Lady Adelais¡¯ thin eyebrows raised, but she was already back into her work.

    ¡°I examined a servant at the Marwood manor. He had a supreme affinity with the Primal Discipline.¡±

    The room froze. ¡°This boy. Was he the daughter¡¯s attendant?¡±

    ¡°I do believe he was¡­¡±

    ¡°That cripple¡­ Interesting¡­¡± The headmistress smiled ¡ª a deep, bone-chilling smile. ¡°You¡¯ve done well bringing this to my attention, I¡¯ll handle the rest. And as promised, your reward awaits you in your new lodgings. Do make sure to keep a close eye on all of your candidates¡­¡±

    ¡°By your will, Headmistress.¡±

    <h4 style="text-align: center">***</h4>

    ¡°Stroud, are you ready? It¡¯s almost time for us to go!¡± Maeve¡¯s shout leaked into the bedroom, muffled by the thick wood and stone.

    Stroud sat up slightly and half-opened one eye as he replied, ¡°I¡¯ll meet you on the lawn in a few minutes!¡± He shook his head as he looked at the dresser partially blocking his door. On more than one occasion in the past few days, his possession of the raw Nura had nearly been exposed. Maeve had a habit of entering rooms without knocking, and she¡¯d been a whirlwind of excitement and nerves as the day of their departure loomed near.

    ¡°...Fine.¡± Receding stomps indicated the girl¡¯s full retreat.

    Settling back down atop his bed, Stroud opened his mouth in the shape of an ¡®O¡¯ and sucked in a sizeable breath. He trapped the air in his lungs, shaping it into a bubble before he pushed it down into his gut.

    The bubble sunk down into the nest of turbid energy below his navel and popped like a balloon as he exhaled out through his nose. Sparks scattered, but their propulsion was weak. Stroud strained himself to push the Nura out and through his body, achieving some measure of success ¡ª though nowhere near what he wanted.

    He took out his dissatisfaction on the breathing manual at his side, picking it up and tossing it harshly over to his bag near the door. It hit the stone, high and well to the left with a loud slap, traveling with much greater speed than he intended.

    Some ¡®breathing technique¡¯ that is. All it really told him to do was push oxygen down into the remnants of his Sea ¡ª where the Nura traveled when he drank it ¡ª and to use the bursts of air to expel the liquid essence through his body.

    It worked... to an extent. But he still felt like there was so much potential being wasted. He hadn¡¯t even come close to achieving the same strength of dispersion as Gau had during the first session back in her hovel.

    He couldn¡¯t seem to manage to push it all at once, even after limiting the amount he used in each dosage. And the distribution of energy through his limbs was often uneven, which was more worrying than anything else.

    One of the vials was already half-empty now, through only three sessions.

    Stroud grumbled some choice curses under his breath, directed at Gau, then clambered off his mattress. He moved over to his pack with tender steps and rifled through it one final time to make sure nothing important was left out.

    The spell sigil was tucked carefully inside a case, hidden beneath the sparse layers of clothes. A sharp dagger rested in its leather sheath, and his notes were all folded up in a neat wad. With the final additions of the journal and the vials, he was all set.

    It wasn¡¯t much, but he neither had many personal effects nor did he feel much attachment to the few he did. Stroud was glad to leave the Barony behind him for a time. Only a little under a year had passed since his re-awakening, but it had become glaringly obvious just how limited the resources in the area truly were.

    He needed change. Progress. Anything different to stifle his deep-seated apprehension toward complacency.

    Shrugging the bag over his shoulder, Stroud pushed his dresser back to its normal spot, cringing at the grating screech of wood dragging across stone.

    Deep breath. Stroud opened the door and stepped outside, refusing to look back. Forward was his only direction...

    The makings of a crowd were beginning to gather at the end of the lawn. He saw the Baron, Lady Marwood, and a whole host of servants and knights waiting to see Maeve off.

    But before Stroud could make it over to them, he felt a figure approaching quickly from behind to wrap him in a sudden hug.

    ¡°Were you going to leave without saying goodbye to your poor old mother¡­¡±

    Stroud shrugged off his pack and turned around so that he could embrace Celina properly. ¡°I thought you¡¯d already been waiting with the others.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be over there soon to say farewell, but I had to see my boy off personally, first.¡± Celina looked at him tenderly, combing through his hair as she smiled. Burgeoning tears glistened in the corners of her eyes and Stroud struggled to repress the pangs of guilt in his heart as well as the longing in his soul. He hadn¡¯t been spending as much time with her as he should have. She deserved more.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mother. I¡¯ll be back with Maeve as often as we can.¡±

    ¡°I know you will,¡± she laughed through a choked sob. Celina halted her tidying and held him at arm¡¯s length. ¡°You¡¯ve been looking healthier these days, Stroud. Don¡¯t let the city keep you from your exercise, and don¡¯t let the excitement halt your studies¡­ But I believe it¡¯ll be tougher on Maeve than it will be on you. Keep an eye on her.¡± Tears spilled down her cheeks as Celina eyed him with worry and warning.

    Stroud poured all his determination into his returning gaze. ¡°I will.¡±

    ¡°Good¡­¡± Celina looked like she wanted to say more, but she stopped herself from rambling further and squeezed Stroud back into her embrace with all the strength she could muster.

    As they separated, she took a moment to wipe her cheeks with a cloth. ¡°I hope for you to make some friends, but be wary of who you trust, Stroud. Listen to your gut. More often than not, it¡¯ll be a better judge of character than what your eyes and ears will reveal.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mother.¡± Stroud nodded stiffly.

    ¡°All right, let¡¯s head over.¡± Celina drew herself up and dabbed at her eyes one final time. ¡°We¡¯ve left them waiting long enough.¡±

 Interlude: Travels

    As they rumbled along the dirt path, Stroud gazed out the carriage window and returned the waves of all the serfs still out tending to their fields. It was the busiest period of the year for them ¡ª breaking up the tough soil and rushing to get their crops into the ground before the onset of the hardy northern weeds ¡ª so even the beckoning of night couldn''t deter their efforts.

    "Ugh... Stroud, would you close that please." Maeve wrinkled her nose as she gestured toward the window.

    The smell of manure hung heavy in the evening air, but Stroud had grown accustomed to it some time ago. This relatively flat stretch of the reaches was covered from beginning to end in sprawling farmland and spanned much of the length of their journey to Frostrane.

    Though considering the Madam spent pretty much all of her time stuffed up in the carriage, it was reasonable that she would still be unsettled by the stench.

    Stroud obliged and leaned back against the cushions behind him as he felt the rough churning of the wheels below.

    They continued like that for a time, basking in silence and the lingering whiffs of shit. It was entirely unpleasant; too bumpy to concentrate on engraving in the mindscape, and too dark to do any light reading. He could only wait until Landon found a suitable spot to pull off from the road and make camp.

    Travel was never something particularly exciting, but this method or horse and carriage really seemed to drag it on ever so painfully. Stroud didn¡¯t feel this way often, but these past few days he¡¯d really longed for some of the modern conveniences of his past life. They didn¡¯t change the fundamental downsides of travel, but at least they allowed it to be over with quickly...

    For now, he just had to bear with the tedium.

    Each morning, they rode for hours into the rising sun, keeping the offshoot of the Aequore River to their right as they followed it to their destination. That was Stroud¡¯s quiet time alone on the driver¡¯s bench. He was more than glad to have the first shift of the day ¡ª  as he was someone who always liked to get troublesome things out the way early if he could.

    There wasn¡¯t much to do or be seen at the helm. Rectangular plots of drab, green and brown pastures spanned into the horizon, only broken up on occasion by the rolling hills of tall grass and rocky outcroppings. As such, none of the scenery was of any interest to Stroud. He was more focused on using his rare periods of peace to work on perfecting his breathing method ¡ª without the accompaniment of Nura. That way, during the trip, his body could receive a well-needed reprieve, and in future sessions, his results with the technique would hopefully see improvement.

    Stroud¡¯s only misfortune was that he couldn¡¯t spend his whole day on the driver¡¯s bench doing just this.

    When it came time for Landon to take over, they would stop for a short lunch to feed and water the horses. Maeve would seize this chance to stretch and burn off some of her energy, but it never seemed to do much good because as soon as Stroud entered the carriage, he would be assaulted by questions without end.

    What did he think Frostrane would be like?

    Would any of the older students at the Arcanium be friendly?

    These were the periods of the trip that irritated him the most. And if it wasn¡¯t for the horses lacking stamina, he would have pushed them all day long to avoid being trapped in that box with the Madam. In hindsight, Landon probably would have let him too, because as the days wore on, the man¡¯s shifts grew shorter and shorter.

    As soon as the Magus noticed the halo of warmth and light hanging over their shoulders beginning to dim, he would signal a halt to their progress. There weren¡¯t many proper towns or villages for rest along the road, so they were forced to sleep outdoors or in barns ¡ª just as they were on this night. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Stroud exhaled his boiling frustrations as the carriage rumbled to halt. He hopped out and helped Maeve step down, allowing the cool air to wash over his body.

    There were no homesteads in sight, so it looked like they''d be camping along the riverbank.

    Landon wouldn''t be happy, but this was actually what Stroud preferred. He felt at peace under the expanse of stars. They were so full and bright, filling the sky in great numbers¡­ And they reminded him of his objective.

    One day, he would make his return to the cosmos and blaze a brilliant path through the darkness that none of them could ever compare to.

    Tonight, his thoughts were no different as he sprawled out by the carriage with a full stomach.

    ¡°What¡¯re you thinking about, Stroud? Are you¡­ still upset you weren¡¯t accepted as a student?¡± Maeve¡¯s voice was accompanied by the soft crunching of grass as she laid a blanket down next to him.

    Shaking his head, Stroud laughed internally. Gaining admittance to Lady Adelais¡¯ Arcanium as a student was never within his expectations. She was sure to have a sharp memory and she wouldn¡¯t have missed that he was a cripple when they met at that dinner. Just gaining her attention was enough. And the fact that he¡¯d been mentioned in the Headmistress¡¯s personally addressed admittance letter to the Marwoods was enough to prove he¡¯d achieved that goal.

    But this girl still always thought he was mad about something.

    Maybe I¡¯ve really been doing too much brooding these days¡­ Lifting himself up, Stroud verified that Landon was off to the side, poking around in the remnants of their fire pit and not paying them any mind. ¡°What do you think is up there¡­ beyond the sky?¡± he asked before shifting back into a more comfortable position on the crook of his elbow

    Maeve took a moment to settle into a similar position before she replied. ¡°Well, it''s the realm of the gods, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°But what if it wasn¡¯t? What if¡­ it was nothing? Just a dark and empty space¡­¡±

    Only silence and the steady gurgling of the river greeted his question for a long breath.

    ¡°You don¡¯t believe in the existence of any gods? Then how would you explain us? Arcana. The energy that nourishes our lives and the world around us? Who else but all-powerful beings could create all this.¡±

    Stroud rolled onto his side to look at Maeve, finding her doing the same. Her eyes glowed softly underneath the shadows cast by the embers of the fire and the hair cascading over her face.

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying there aren''t higher powers¡­¡± he started. ¡°I just think that, maybe¡­ the afterlife isn¡¯t all we make it out to be¡­ No new realm for those who ascend, and no everlasting paradise for those who don¡¯t¡­ Would knowing that change how you live?¡±

    Unblinking, she considered his answer. ¡°Well¡­ if that was truly the case¡­ Then, I still don¡¯t think it would change the way I live my life that much.¡± Her answer was so confident and matter-of-fact that it caught Stroud off guard.

    ¡°What? Why?!¡±

    Maeve shrugged and propped herself up on her elbows, returning her gaze to the heavens. ¡°I never really imagined myself as someone who would reach the pinnacle of the Arcane. No one really does, I think. So few people have managed to do so in the entire Empire¡¯s history, let alone our tiny Principality. Even then, they¡¯re most likely just rumors¡­¡± She paused for a long while, allowing their steady breathing to meld into nature¡¯s chorus. ¡°All that stuff is so beyond me, Stroud¡­ So far away...¡±

    Stroud watched as she inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes, reigning back in her distant thoughts. He didn¡¯t blame her, and neither did he know why he even brought up such a topic in the first place.

    Allowing your mind to drift in the direction of death¡­ is nothing other than dangerous.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re right of course, Miss.¡± Stroud chuckled self-deprecatingly. ¡°Ignore me. I was only speaking upon a stray idea¡­¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond, but as her eyes reopened, he could see that they were clouded by a vague haze.

    ¡°Idiot¡­¡± Stroud cursed himself and flipped back over to continue wrestling with his fears. It was always in the darkness of night that they became the most active.

 Chapter 11

    Frostrane was once considered the first bastion of refinement and learning for Magi in the north.

    An ancient city reclaimed. The gateway to the Frozen Wastes.

    The Adelais family were among the first to accompany the third king of Redenia, Vinyius, when he sought to resettle the harsh lands of the reaches and expand his domain. They progressed further than the others, venturing all the way to the eastern edge of Crosspar mountain range that shielded the north from the relentless battering of sea. And there, they found their chance.

    After engaging in a long conflict with the Tundra Walkers that had crept in from the barren plains, the Adelais clan seized the ultimate prize ¡ª a blood-stained and weathered diamond. Frostrane.

    With painstaking care, they restored the once glorious city and rapidly rose to prominence. While some envied their success, others flocked to their banner. Many Magi believed that there was some sort of inheritance from an era past hidden deep within the ruins, and they all hoped to acquire a taste of the family¡¯s newfound knowledge.

    Wealth and manpower willingly delivered themselves to the edge of the world and the Adelais clan seized upon it. The Tzalmere Sanctum was established and it swiftly became the largest hub for Magi in the reaches. Rumors of it even reached the inner courts of a few of the Empire¡¯s border cities, spurring many to make a pilgrimage to Redenia¡¯s crown jewel.

    But as time passed, no profound secrets revealed themselves and the establishment of Arcaniums throughout the lands opened up new avenues of learning and progress. The brilliance of Frostrane dulled once more and the doors of the Sanctum were closed to outsiders.

    Forgotten, they bided their time, waiting for the right moment to open themselves up to the world once more. And now, it appeared that time had arrived.

    Large caravans of merchants and travelers intermingled with the ornate carriages streaming through Frostrane¡¯s titanic rimesteel gates. The blueish-silver metal glistened brilliantly, reflecting the afternoon sunlight like a rippling pool of water, and the wondrous material covered every domed roof and every spiraling tower¡¯s crown. It was as though the ice-laden city had been set ablaze in a sheet of white flames.

    The fire licked upward toward the peak of the jagged, snow-capped mountain framing the scene as the city rose in ever-rising layers up its width.

    Stroud took it all in, in awe of its artistry and repose. The city that burned obstinately in the frozen lands.

    ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful, but¡­. there¡¯s no life here.¡± Maeve let out a long sigh.

    It took him a moment to understand what she meant. After all, the sleek, grey brick roads were flooded with streams of pedestrians going about their business. But it wasn¡¯t the people she was referring to, it was the distinct lack of green. There were no gardens or parks, or even potted plants on the second-floor balconies of some of the larger homes. Frostrane was a wash of cold silver, white, and blue.

    Something like that could indeed be off-putting to an apprentice like Maeve who was in tune with the elements closely related to nature.

    ¡°Will that be a detriment to your studies, Madam?¡± Stroud asked, keeping his tone light. He was in the process of unloading their bags from the carriage as Landon negotiated with an innkeeper nearby.

    She shrugged, her eyes still roaming the rooftops. ¡°My speed of gathering Nura will be hindered, but my father said it shouldn¡¯t be hard to supplement the loss of efficiency with the abundant resources of the Arcanium.¡±

    Humming his acknowledgment, Stroud hefted Maeve¡¯s pack alongside his own onto his shoulders. It was no surprise that hers was the much heavier of the two.

    While busying himself with that, he saw Landon tuck a few silver Mors into the hand of a grizzled old man and pass him the carriage¡¯s reins before he walked back over. ¡°I¡¯ve booked myself a room for the night, so we can make our way to the Sanctum. Is there anything you¡¯d like to see or buy before we head over, Maeve?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯d rather get settled in first,¡± she replied while rubbing the fabric of her cloak between her fingers.

    The steward nodded. ¡°A wise choice.¡± He immediately led them up the wide and sloping main thoroughfare toward the inner district.

    Stroud paid careful attention to the many shops and businesses that they passed. Peering through the foggy glass panes that revealed their wares. He would be in charge of procuring all of their basic needs and supplies during the course of Maeve¡¯s studies, so it was in his best interest to familiarize himself with the various marketplaces as soon as possible.

    As they proceeded deeper into the city, the roads tightened and the buildings rose higher, and soon, another set of formidable battlements loomed overhead. They passed through the heavily guarded portcullis rather easily after Landon flashed Maeve¡¯s letter of admittance. But once they arrived in the inner city, it was as if they had suddenly entered a maze.

    Stairs spiraled in every direction. Some precariously wound their way up to the top of the fortifications or different buildings, while others led to even more stairs or seemingly nowhere at all.

    There appeared to be no order to any of it, and the city¡¯s layout only grew more confusing as they progressed. Dark monoliths rose up from the ground with no particular coherence to their position ¡ª as did the winding towers; and the walkways between them became more convoluted as a result.

    With Landon still in the lead, their group traveled up a curved ramp in order to cut through an alley, only to appear on an arched bridge that led them over a waterway flowing down the mountainside. Such circuitous routes seemed to be commonplace.

    Even with a significantly improved memory, Stroud was having trouble keeping track of their whereabouts.

    ¡°You seem to know the city well, Sir Landon,¡± he remarked after a while, adjusting the bags on his back with a low grunt. Stroud had been impressed by his own endurance up to this point. Success to which he could only attribute to the Nura dispersion as most of his physical exercise had come to a halt before the trip. He was both elated and a little shocked by the discovery, but the technique really seemed to be yielding more benefits than he had thought. It was just a shame that the number of doses he had been able to purchase from Gau were so few...

    ¡°I¡¯ve traveled here on a few occasions. The Sanctum used to host biennial gatherings off all the various circles of Magi in the Principality.¡± Landon¡¯s reply was terse, but it sparked Maeve¡¯s interest.

    ¡°Oh, that sounds fun! What would you do?¡±

    The steward snorted, clearly displaying his disagreement as they rounded another corner. ¡°It was supposed to be a chance for everyone to display the results of their research. Exhibiting new alchemical recipes or spell models¡­ But it always devolved into a contest of egos and strength. Who had made a breakthrough or improved their cultivation the most¡­ I can¡¯t say I look back upon the events with any fondness.¡±

    Probably because he never advanced much himself, Stroud mused internally. He¡¯d come to realize that Landon was someone who carried a chip on his shoulder. After the Baron had advanced to the Second Order, the steward had grown increasingly disgruntled, verbally lashing out at the servants and the others working at the estate more often.

    It was safe to say that no one was sad to see him returning to the capital in his current state.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Maeve smiled forcefully, training her gaze over the outer district as they ascended to another level.

    Landon¡¯s response had sufficiently killed the burgeoning mood, so they could only travel in a tense silence the remainder of the way.

    The long and winding walk through the city was still immensely straining for Stroud, but he managed to hold on until the end. His breath was short and ragged in the thin air and his knees felt like jelly when they arrived at the large plaza crowning Frostrane¡¯s precipice. Now, only the upper third of the mountain loomed overhead.

    They stood before its southern face which had been sheared into a smooth, even surface ¡ª like someone had taken a blade to the rock as if it were a pastry, seeking to split the peak down the middle.

    Numerous alcoves and windows of varying size and length dotted the cliff¡¯s outer veneer, and upon straining his eyes, Stroud could see a few curious faces gazing down at the gathering of Magi and apprentices below. The new entrants and their posses crowded around the Sanctum¡¯s entrance, a few of the Arcanium¡¯s representatives barring their path inside.

    Magi were a group of people always eager to distinguish themselves, making them easy to pick out in a crowd. And it only became even more obvious when they were all grouped together like this.

    The clash of colorful finery in the square almost gave Stroud a headache.

    Gaudy robes were abundant. The women wore fur-trimmed mantles and adorned themselves with jewelry while the men casually displayed their fine leather gloves and pocket watches while glancing frequently at the time.

    Practitioners of the Arcane also tended to have more vibrant natural appearances as well, Stroud noted. Brighter hair colors and eyes ¡ª that contrasted with their fair skin ¡ª were commonplace.

    He and the other servants in their rugged gray and brown heavy clothes somehow stood out the most in the flock of peacocks.

    But no one paid any mind to them, regardless, as they stood off to the side surrounded by luggage. Stroud joined up with his fellow companions as Maeve and Landon hung at the back of the procession waiting to complete their registration.

    The line dwindled slowly, so Stroud turned his ears to pick up on the conversations buzzing through the crowd. But the wind refused to cooperate with his efforts. Howling around the peak, it tore the words out of any and all mouths before they had a chance to carry over. Instead, the heavy perfumes that many of the women wore swirled around the open space, filling the air with an overbearing, nauseating scent.

    In the end, Stroud could only distract himself by turning his attention to the servants around him. Many of them were much older and predominantly male, clustered together in small groups of two or three. Initially, he wasn¡¯t sure how many servants the apprentices would be able to have accompanying them, but the answer appeared to be plural. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Stroud knew that the Sanctum would have dedicated servants of its own. Though, judging by the impressive musculature and wary eyes of the surrounding men, they were more likely warriors than housekeepers or butlers.

    The knot of worry in the back of his mind squirmed.

    ¡°Stroud! We¡¯re checked in... Let¡¯s go!¡± Maeve jogged over and caught his attention.

    He spared one last glance over the bodyguards nearby, noting each of their appearances, before he picked up the bags and followed after Maeve. Behind them, there was still a steady stream of new arrivals trickling up to the plaza.

    Landon was waiting for their return by the Sanctum¡¯s massive arched entrance that led into the mountain peak. It stood nearly as tall as the city¡¯s main gates, and was shrouded in deep shadows. Drawing closer, Stroud could see a few pale blue fires dangling inside lanterns within the wide corridor, illuminating the space in a ghastly light.

    ¡°Miss Marwood, Landon, it''s good to see you both again.¡± A familiar face suddenly stepped out of the darkness.

    ¡°Ah, Sir Reeve! Well met!¡± Landon shook the older man¡¯s hand with enthusiasm while Maeve bowed politely. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you personally came out to greet us?¡±

    Smiling wryly, Reeve glanced around. Stroud noted that the man appeared much more at ease here than he had at the Marwood household. More assured. ¡°Would that be so much of a surprise?¡± he feigned hurt.

    ¡°Not at all.¡± Landon chuckled. ¡°But I must admit that I took you for a man more devoted to his research than matters of exchanging pleasantries.¡±

    Reeve laughed along with the steward, patting him on the back. ¡°You¡¯ve got me pinned, Landon. I¡¯d stay cooped up in my lab all day if I could get away with it. Alas¡­ we all have our duties. Though, I must admit: I¡¯m excited for all new blood entering the Sanctum. The youth bring a lot of fresh ideas to the table which is something we¡¯ve been sorely lacking over the years.¡±

    Landon scoffed. ¡°Be careful not to flatter these scions too much, Sir Reeve. They¡¯ll quickly let it go to their heads.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Reeve chuckled awkwardly as he scratched his chin. ¡°Well, as soon as the others I examined arrive, we can set off on our tour of the facilities¡­¡± The Magi¡¯s beady eyes flickered around before they latched on to the sight of another apprentice, ¡°Lord Ernhart! Over here!¡±

    Stroud glanced over the approaching party, quickly sizing them up. Overall, they were the most subdued of any of the groups he¡¯d seen. Wearing plain martial robes of muted shades of brown, the young man leading them lifted his arm and waved, revealing the healthy tan already warming his skin despite the time of year.

    ¡°I¡¯m unfamiliar with the Ernhart¡¯s,¡± he whispered to Maeve. The both of them were standing somewhat out of sight behind Landon.

    She recoiled slightly at his words. ¡°Really? The majority of the territory we passed through on the way here was their land¡­¡±

    ¡°Forgive my ignorance, Madam.¡±

    ¡°Well, I suppose it makes sense,¡± Maeve huffed out impatiently. ¡°Their family has always been rather¡­ secretive. Well, don''t let their appearance fool you, Stroud. Earl Ernhart is widely considered to be the wealthiest man in the Principality ¡ª aside from Prince Ajax himself.¡±

    Stroud nodded which was enough to satisfy Maeve.

    They continued to whisper back and forth while Reeve took his time to mingle with the new arrivals. Accompanying the Ernhart heir, there looked to be two other boys and a single girl among his vassals that would be studying at the Arcanium. That was quite the number considering most other apprentices he¡¯d seen were only accompanied by their servants.

    ¡°Maeve, I think it''s about time I retired to the inn. I¡¯m hoping to get a good rest before embarking to the capital.¡± Landon walked over and remarked stiffly. It hadn¡¯t taken him long to grow impatient upon being ignored. ¡°If you find yourself in need of anything, send Stroud to find me before the sun climbs over the walls in the morning.¡±

    ¡°All right. I wish you safe travels, Landon.¡± Maeve smiled weakly.

    ¡°Study hard, Miss¡­ Don¡¯t let down your father¡¯s expectations.¡± The man flicked his eyes over Stroud and dragged him away from the group without waiting for Maeve¡¯s reply.

    "Stroud. The Baron allowed his gratitude to cloud his judgment, but I have not. I¡¯ve seen what you¡¯re up to. And I can assure you that Lady Adelais cares little for your talent. So, do not allow your personal desires to drag down the Marwood name. It¡¯s time you accepted your condition and kept your head down. Even if you were to recover¡­ People like you and me were never destined to rise above the clouds...¡±

    ¡°Safe travels, Landon. I can assure you I will do my best.¡± Stroud¡¯s face remained a mask of indifference even as the steward frowned and tightened the grip on his shoulders.

    Landon opened his mouth to say more, anger finally flashing across his eyes. But ultimately, the man decided against pursuing whatever thoughts he had. He simply turned around and left Stroud standing alone while he went back over to Reeve to bid the Magus farewell.

    Inwardly, Stroud smiled as he watched Landon cross the plaza and disappear down the steps. Of course, a man like that would never achieve anything great. Someone who so heavily valued the perception of others would never make it far. After all, Ego is a very fragile thing...

    ***

    Maeve breathed out a sigh of relief after Landon departed. He had embarrassed her with his words and actions today.

    Unwillingly, memories of her early years with him resurfaced. Bright laughter ringing through the gardens as she chased him around... She used to love pestering him to show off his spells, to which he always happily obliged with a broad grin.

    But that enthusiastic man was no more, and it saddened her to see. Her father was hurt by it as well, she knew. The steward had stuck by his side through the rough and sudden transition to leading the family after grandfather had passed. They were both young then ¡ª promising new Magi... Yet their paths had diverged so greatly. Each day they grew further apart.

    She turned her head to the Sanctum¡¯s entrance; excitement lightened her upper body, but somehow, her legs felt heavier than ever. After she stepped inside, who would she become? She knew who her family expected her to grow into, but Stroud¡¯s questions the previous night had illuminated the unease lingering behind her heart.

    What did she want to accomplish? Why did she want to study Arcana and strengthen herself if not to achieve ascension?

    ¡°...Madam. I think it¡¯s time we regrouped with Sir Reeve. It appears as though everyone has arrived.¡±

    Maeve¡¯s heart fluttered nervously as Stroud¡¯s soft voice caught her by surprise. She¡¯d been finding he did that increasingly often these days. He hovered around so quietly, always hanging just outside the edges of her perception. And even as she cleared more of her Spirit Locus and developed her awareness ¡ª he somehow moved in accordance.

    Once or twice on the trip to Frostrane, she¡¯d sent out her meager spiritual perception as a joke to probe him, but it was like there was a stone wall perpetually surrounding his body, hiding his true self from view.

    Although, he¡¯d always been the most difficult person to get a read on for as long as she¡¯d known him.

    ¡°R-Right¡­¡± she muttered. Then, her stomach abruptly dropped, dipping below even her Sea. She saw the final students Sir Reeve had been waiting on. The Berg twins.

    Virgil and Sybil.

    Maeve chastised herself for being so naive. If she had made it here, of course, they would have as well.

    Of the few noble heirs in the reaches she¡¯d met around her age, Sybil was the one she detested the most.

    Virgil was much like her own brother ¡ª interested in only himself. But that made them easy to maneuver around. Stay out of their way and they would stay out of yours. Sybil however, very much liked to poke her nose into the affairs of others.

    Fortunately, the silver-haired girl had yet to turn those icy blue eyes upon her. Maeve averted her gaze and approached the back of the group, hiding behind the Ernhart vassals.

    ¡°Wonderful!¡± Sir Reeve clapped. ¡°Looks like all my charges have arrived safe and sound! I¡¯d like to be the first to welcome you all to the Frostrane Arcanium, otherwise known as the Tzalmere Sanctum.¡±

    All around them, instructors in their elegant sky blue robes were gathering the students they had examined and were performing the same spiel. They reminded her of the mother ducks that would sometimes lead their chicks into the back garden¡¯s pond as they ferried everyone through the entryway in neat lines to show them around the Sanctum.

    The teens following after the Magi looked around in hushed wonder and Maeve found her own budding anticipation growing as Reeve waved their group along.

    ¡°All right, so to begin ¡ª this is the Borean Tunnel.¡± The man spread his arms out wide as they passed below the grand arch. The wind whispered along the walls as they proceeded onward. ¡°If you continue all the way through, you will eventually arrive at the Northeastern Gardens where we breed spiritual herbs used for alchemy. Not exactly the most original name, I know, but¡­¡±

    Maeve slowly started tuning out their guide as he rambled on. She was interested in exploring everything the school had to offer, but couldn¡¯t shake off the burning gaze she suddenly felt trained on the back of her neck.

    Sybil. It hadn¡¯t taken the girl long to pick her out after all. Maeve¡¯s stomach tumbled over itself as she turned around and saw the Berg heir¡¯s lips twisted up into a pleased grin.

    ¡°Greetings, Miss Berg. It¡¯s been a while since we last met, but you look even more stunning now than in my memories.¡± She meant what she said, feeling her jealousy stir as she took in the other girl¡¯s willowy figure.

    Sybil¡¯s perfect white teeth sparkled as her smile broadened. ¡°I should say the same of you, Miss Marwood. What¡¯s it been¡­ two years since my second brother¡¯s graduation celebration from our Arcanium in Magend?¡±

    They walked side-by-side so as not to fall behind. ¡°I believe so, though I must admit it feels like much longer ago.¡±

    Maeve flinched as Sybil¡¯s intense stare hardened. ¡°Why to me¡­ it feels like just yesterday. My brothers never allow me to forget the grace and beauty of Lady Marwood,¡± she drawled sarcastically.

    That was quick, Mave lamented in her mind. She knew at least one of the eight Berg boys had requested her hand in marriage. Her father had managed to hold them off so far, but they were a persistent bunch. All the more reason she needed to sufficiently surpass Samm and inherit the title. Only then would she be able to decide her own future.

    ¡°I¡¯m undeserving of their praise¡­¡±

    ¡°You think so too?¡± Sybil widened her eyes in mock surprise. ¡°I tried to tell them that, but they just wouldn¡¯t believe me¡­¡±

    Maeve bit her lower lip. Don¡¯t stoop to her level. She just needed to make it through the day, then do her best to avoid or ignore the girl.

    Sybil waited expectantly for her response, but luckily, a loud call from Sir Reeve ahead demanded both their attention.

    ¡°Listen up! Because you¡¯ll be coming to this junction frequently in the future¡­¡± They had reached the mid-point of the tunnel and were standing outside an opening in the wall, framed by glowing amber sconces. It led to staircases that branched both down into the mountain and up toward the peak. ¡°From here, if you take the southern facing steps downward, you¡¯ll arrive at the training and research facilities. We won¡¯t be exploring them today, but do note down their location!¡±

    The Magus paused to catch his breath before continuing, ¡°The northern staircase leads to the upper halls. That is where all the instructors and other important staff reside. If you ever need to seek me or any of my colleagues out ¡ª that is where you can find us. Understood?¡±

    After receiving a round of nods and mumbled acknowledgments, Reeve chaperoned them along toward the dining facilities.

    Maeve glanced to her side, ready with a retort for Sybil that she had prepared in the meanwhile, but she found that Stroud had interceded between the two of them. The large packs on his back blocked the other girl from view.

    ¡°Servant! Step out of the way. I was having a conversation with your--" Sybil¡¯s angry hiss was cut off as a sharp spiritual perception churned around Stroud. His eyes were almost lifeless, refusing to look anywhere but the blank cavern walls.

    ¡°H-How dare you¡ª!¡±

    This time, a lazy voice sounded over hers, ¡°Would you shut up, Sis? I¡¯m trying to pay attention.¡±

    Maeve smiled, ducking her head to avoid notice. She never would have guessed that Virgil would be the one to suppress the situation. How she wished she could see Sybil¡¯s face at this moment...

    ¡°...And this brings us to the end of our tour, for the time being.¡± Sir Reeve called for a halt at the entrance of a diverging tunnel. ¡°The Headmistress desires to address our first batch of apprentices. Please proceed inside and find a seat. Her presentation will begin shortly.¡±

    With that, the Magus hurried off, leaving them to funnel into the chamber.

    Marchioness Adelais. She was scary, but the woman commanded respect and consideration everywhere she went. Maeve only wished that one day she could stand before others with the same confidence.

 Chapter 12

    With his back against the wall, Stroud let his eyes wander across the canopy of glittering azure crystals that illuminated the presentation hall. Judging by the grand decor and the massive size of the room, he assumed that this must have been one of the areas that the Sanctum held those biennial gatherings in. And with spaces like these already existing, it was no wonder the Marchioness was able to so easily establish an Arcanium.

    The cavern was wide and rounded; although, not very tall. Instead, the floor sunk deep into the earth in descending layers until it reached a marble dais that currently stood empty. Each layer was encircled by a long, nearly continuous table, around which the few hundred new students sat scattered about.

    Their hushed whispers filled the air with a low buzz as everyone waited upon the Headmistress¡¯s appearance. It had already been around ten minutes, by Stroud¡¯s estimates, and the noise level continued to escalate with each passing second.

    Impatient, his gaze turned back to Maeve. There were many empty seats around the tables ¡ª as all the servants had been told to stand in the back ¡ª and yet, the Madam found herself wedged solidly in between the Berg twins. Much to her obvious dismay.

    Her brows furrowed darkly as the girl with the long platinum braid dangling down her back made what Stroud assumed to be another snide comment. Childish bullying; he knew it for what it was: jealousy.

    His hope was that Maeve would be able to brush it off, but he knew how difficult it could be to ignore day in and day out. They were a long way from home, and the insults would slowly erode her self-esteem and patience. He would do what he could to help ¡ª as was his duty. Though, there would be many occasions, such as now, when he was in no position to intervene.

    His spiritual perception crept out towards them again, but a sudden torrent of wind and light burst through the room, interrupting his observation. Stroud was forced to shield his eyes, retracting his consciousness hurriedly as his heart skipped a beat.

    Gasps of mixed surprise and fear swept away the low chatter, and the room sunk into silent expectation as the light faded.

    Crisp footfalls rang out as Lady Adelais¡¯s presence swallowed everyone¡¯s attention. She glided down the steps towards the speaker''s platform, her aura and ornate sapphire robes billowing outward in tandem. Cold and regal, she lifted her chin proudly like she was a goddess descending from the heavens to impart her will upon her devoted believers.

    Stroud scoffed inwardly at her grandstanding, but his nerves tightened as he vividly recalled the pressure she had suffocated him with during their first meeting only a few weeks ago.

    ¡°Welcome, students,¡± Lady Adelais¡¯ clear voice traveled smoothly into the ears of everyone present without raising her volume above a conversational level. ¡°It fills me with tremendous joy to see you all here today. I¡¯ve been waiting a long time to reopen these halls, and who better to fill them with than the brightest young minds of the Principality!¡±

    She paused as applause thundered through the cavern. ¡°Now¡­ Some of you may know me as Marchioness Adelais or the Warden, but here ¡ª I¡¯m just the Headmistress. I want us all to put rank and pretense aside and focus ourselves on exploring the Arcane.¡±

    Applause sounded again, albeit much less enthusiastically. Lady Adelais¡¯ smile only widened. ¡°Many of you have traveled long distances from all over the reaches to get here. And we want everyone ¡ª regardless of circumstances ¡ª to reach their full potential. Our mission is to provide you with the best environment to do so.¡±

    Her eyes circled around the hall as she rotated to meet everyone¡¯s expectant gaze. ¡°This year, the 732nd of the Draimor Imperial calendar... will go down in history. I say that with confidence because it is the year that you all have taken your first steps towards becoming Magi. Your glory and prestige will shake not only the Principality but the entirety of the Redenia Kingdom and the broader lands of the Empire for years to come!¡±

    As outlandish as her claims were, she had sufficiently riled up the young apprentices. Stroud could feel the swelling pride that pervaded the room with his powerful perception.

    He didn¡¯t know what Lady Adelais¡¯ true goal was, but it was certainly not to win the favor of these teenagers. The barren depths spanning underneath her lofty pride had revealed that much to him in their last meeting.

    From Stroud¡¯s perspective, this woman cared only for herself, looking down on all others. And her ambitions could not be contained within this city ¡ª or even this kingdom.

    He tried to peer deeper while her attention was scattered, but her spirit locked him down in an instant. Without turning to look at him, her voice was delivered seemingly directly into his mind.

    ¡°Find time to come visit my office tomorrow morning. I reside above the upper halls. My attendant will be expecting you¡­¡±

    Startled, he glanced around to see if anyone else had heard anything, but the servants around him remained fixated on the headmistress as she waved farewell.

    In the next moment, her parting words rang out for all to hear, ¡°Prepare yourselves to be challenged and inspired¡­ I look forward to seeing everyone working hard in the coming days!¡±

    Another flash of light followed, and she was gone, replaced by a young Magus with dark hair.

    Stroud¡¯s mind stirred into action as the hall erupted with excited babble.

    Barely anyone paid attention to the man¡¯s frantic announcement, ¡°Quiet down, please! Staff members are waiting outside the hall to pass out schedules and room keys! Please make sure to pick them up on your way out¡­¡±

    ***

    The first night in the Sanctum passed uneventfully.

    After the previous afternoon''s meeting had adjourned, everyone was funneled back across the Borean tunnel to the Sanctum¡¯s eastern wing.

    The entire eastern half of the mountain peak that contained the Arcanium had been reappropriated to solely housing the apprentices and their servants. It seemed an excessive amount of space for barely more than a thousand or so people, but considering this place was previously used to accommodate Magi and their extensive posse¡¯s up until now... maybe the opposite could actually be said.

    Regardless, Stroud was still pleased with his new room as he rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes and glanced around. The bed rested atop a low slab of stone, but the mattress was feathered and actually large enough that his feet didn¡¯t dangle over the edge. But most importantly, there was a washbasin in an attached area for his sole use. He¡¯d grown used to drawing well water alongside the many housekeepers to wash at the Marwood manor, so these new luxuries were thoroughly satisfying.

    Overall, he found it quite cozy. Though, he knew many would inversely see it as a relatively gloomy and cave-like space. The roof and walls were all curved, and there were no windows... But there was a grate in the ceiling that he assumed was for ventilation.

    Yet, as satisfied as he was, Stroud couldn¡¯t completely shake off the stirrings of jealousy as images of the mistress¡¯ room flashed through his mind. The abodes of the servants could only be described as humble when compared to the formal, multi-room dorms of the students.

    He¡¯d seen Maeve¡¯s when he helped her unpack her belongings yesterday, and admittedly, he was awed by the sight.

    All the students had running water for both bathing and cooking ¡ª which Stroud had yet to figure out how it was achieved ¡ª and reception areas to host guests. They also had large workstations, and the young apprentices occupied all the outward-facing rooms with large, floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city.

    The Madam had been delighted and he¡¯d already been charged with purchasing decorations and plants while she attended her first lectures. But that would have to wait until later in the afternoon because right now he had an appointment to keep.

    Stroud stepped out of the room and jiggled the key in his door¡¯s lock until it snapped into place with a satisfying click. He¡¯d spent much of the previous afternoon and evening contemplating the outcomes of this meeting.

    Would she have a solution to his problem? It seemed plausible. Otherwise, he couldn¡¯t imagine himself being of much use to her.

    The price she would exact for a favor was certain to be heavy, but he was willing to pay almost any price for the opportunity to cultivate and gain power. And she likely knew that.

    He would have to tread carefully. There was too much he didn¡¯t know about Magi and the extent of their powers; his meeting with Gau had made that clear. Lady Adelais could exploit him in a multitude of ways he wasn¡¯t even aware of in all likelihood...

    Stroud exhaled a deep breath and put on his mask of apathy as he walked down the corridor toward the Borean Tunnel.

    They were similar in that regard, he briefly acknowledged. Both he and Lady Adelais were skilled at hiding their true emotions and intentions.

    Crossing the wide tunnel, Stroud immediately headed toward the intersection that had been pointed out to them during their tour. There was no need for a map in this place as the layout of the Sanctum was fairly straightforward ¡ª making it abundantly clear in his mind that these halls had not been designed by the original inhabitants and builders of Frostrane.

    Puzzling once more over the incomprehensible layout of the inner city, Stroud took the northern staircase that spiraled toward the very top of the mountain peak. Upon reaching each floor, he slowed briefly to look out the windows revealing the cityscape. However, he found his eyes and mind were drawn more to the plains stretching beyond the walls.

    It was so vast and bleak, and seemed to drain the brilliance of the city through its overwhelming scope. Out there, life continuously struggled to gain a foothold as grass and wildflowers sprouted amidst the sea of dirt and weeds. But these hearty plants could never fully overcome winter¡¯s culling. They withered and perished year after year, only to bide their time below the surface ¡ª poking their head out precariously once again as the soil loosened in the spring. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Even more impressive was the Tundra Walker''s ability to persevere in such an environment. For centuries, their attempts to step into the kingdom had been thwarted after they¡¯d been driven out by the Adelais family. One might think that such a long history of oppression would render them weak and hapless, but instead, they continued to thrive in the barrens and returned stronger to the borders each time...

    Turning away, Stroud¡¯s gaze was solemn. In the next few breaths, he finished his journey to the aerie, arriving in a cold and austere lobby that would put even medical professionals to shame.

    A man wearing a full headwrap noted his arrival and held up a hand, signaling for him to stand by before disappearing behind a set of doors.

    Stroud sat down upon one of the long benches, twiddling his thumbs idly as he waited¡­ and waited. As time passed, he eventually settled into his Spirit Locus to work on his engraving. He figured he might as well get some work done if the Marchioness wanted to flex her authority.

    At this point, more than a third of it had been completed; though, the most difficult part was yet to come. The inner portion of the sigil had more winding curves as well as varying depths and details in the markings. These were things difficult to distinguish when using the two-dimensional drawing on the parchment as a reference, so he had to feel them out naturally as he proceeded.

    However, Stroud wasn¡¯t worried about making any mistakes. It would just take time: about two more weeks for the interior, then another for the other half of the outer patterns, by his estimates. If he focused solely on its completion, he could cut down that period by a few days. But the cost in time was worth the payout ¡ª especially when his bodily strength was still lagging so far behind.

    Feeling out the essence of a sigil and the runes within, allowed a Magus to increase the potency of their spells. It was one of the ways they distinguished themselves from their peers, and also the main reason that newly designed sigils were often the most effective in the hands of their creator.

    Unfortunately, as soon as Stroud had settled into his work, the attendant reappeared and motioned him inside. He cursed Lady Adelais in his heart as he walked through the antechamber.

    Statues depicting the same beast that had accompanied the woman to the Marwood estate glared down at him. But after experiencing the gaze of the real thing ¡ª the grandeur of mere marble and stone could in no way compare.

    His steps carried him quickly into the office. Tucking his hands behind his back, Stroud straightened his posture as the doors slammed shut behind him.

    The Headmistress didn¡¯t speak right away, instead focusing her attention on the documents organized neatly atop her desk.

    Throughout the room, tendrils of hoarfrost climbed the walls, throbbing ominously as they released a pale glow. Stroud¡¯s heart quickly synced with their steady rhythm as he did his best to remain still and composed.

    ¡°I can¡¯t give you exactly what you want.¡± The woman finally said as she dragged a fresh sheet of paper under her quill. ¡°But I can offer you a degree of assistance ¡ª if you agree to work for me for a time¡­¡± A breeze swept through the room, punctuating Lady Adelais¡¯ words as she let her offer hang in the air.

    Stroud swallowed his saliva as his intestines squirmed uncomfortably. His final light of hope had been snuffed out so unceremoniously. Although, a part of him was relieved that she hadn¡¯t claimed to be able to heal his Sea. He¡¯d come to accept that what the old witch had told him was the truth. No one in the reaches ¡ª or possibly even the entire Empire ¡ª was capable of magic that could reverse the damage that had already been done.

    ¡°First, I must know what this work would entail,¡± Stroud replied, his voice shivering. She was much more¡­ straightforward in her speech than in her actions, so he would try and behave in accordance.

    Lady Adelais tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she halted her work and sat back in her icy throne. ¡°Do you know the number one reason why Magi in the reaches ¡ª and in the Redenia Kingdom as a whole ¡ª struggle to advance to the 2nd Order?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Headmistress.¡± Stroud shifted his feet as her steely eyes fixed upon him.

    ¡°It¡¯s because their bodies are too weak,¡± she spat out, her face briefly scrunching up with distaste. ¡°Nura is easy enough to accumulate given time, but most Magi neglect improving their physique. This occurs either due to ignorance or their limited access to a properly designed aeditari technique ¡ª a more common problem in the reaches than one might expect...¡± Lady Adelais watched his reaction carefully, a smile now tugging at the corners of her lips.

    ¡°...Some people, like Baron Marwood, are blessed with natural robustness that allows them to avoid this pitfall. But many are born not much better off than you, and only manage to overcome their deficiency by spending decades in constant contact with the Nura stored in their body. And by that point, their lifeforce has greatly deteriorated. I only tell you this so that you¡¯re aware: Even if you recover your Sea or cultivate through other means ¡ª which I have surprising confidence that you will ¡ª your progress will be sorely limited.¡±

    ¡°I presume you are offering a solution then?¡± Stroud remained stiff, his eyes trained over her left shoulder.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± The Headmistress sat forward, clasping her hands together as a predatory chill seeped through the office. ¡°But we would have to perform a binding oath before I¡¯d be willing to share the details. This involves one of my family¡¯s closest held secrets, after all.

    Goosebumps crept across Stroud¡¯s skin, and he was unable to tell if they resulted from his excitement or the rapidly decreasing temperature. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ fair. Though, I would still like to know more about what working for you would entail.¡±

    Binding oaths were not uncommon among Magi, as far as he was aware. He''d seen mention of them a few times during his studies. When the law was unable to coerce people with supernatural power to abide by their word, practitioners could only resort to other means. Stroud was only hung up on the issue because he was unsure of their exact rigidness and consequences.

    ¡°Working for me is simple,¡± Lady Adelais replied promptly. There was a note of levity in her tone now. ¡°I need more discreet eyes and ears within Frostrane and the Sanctum ¡ª especially from those willing to get their hands dirty.¡± Her words rolled off her tongue in a fluid, practiced manner, ¡°Most Magi have an innate presence, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve felt, and this generally makes them poor candidates for subterfuge¡­¡±

    Stroud could see where she was going with this, and he wasn¡¯t entirely averse to the idea. Rather, his confusion stemmed mostly from disbelief. Who would dare make trouble in the Marchioness¡¯ domain?

    ¡°...Your role as a servant is quite the opposite. It places you in an ideal position in the background.¡±

    Nodding to indicate his understanding, Stroud carefully posed his next question: ¡°May I ask who it is you need these eyes and ears upon?¡±

    Her reply was blunt and assured, ¡°The prince¡¯s men. He didn¡¯t help fund this school out of the goodness of his heart. It was only a convenient means for him to wedge his own agents into the Sanctum.¡±

    Stroud fought the urge to step back. With a single word, this had become a matter he had little desire to involve himself in. And his hesitation was evident.

    Lady Adelais snorted dismissively. ¡°What? A powerful family suddenly opens up an Arcanium¡­ Of course, the prince would want to keep an eye on them. I only need my own agents to ensure the peace of mind of my students. I¡¯m sure you can understand that, right?¡± Her frown was innocent, but her eyes smiled teasingly.

    ¡°Headmistress¡ª¡±

    She held up a hand to interrupt him. ¡°Prince Ajax and I stand at odds. It won¡¯t be much of a secret for long. Redenia has long been fragmented, and the divide has only grown more clear now that the three princes are competing for the throne. Sides are beginning to form and it¡¯s only a few of the more isolated nobles who remain unaware of this.¡±

    Her voice took on an edge as she continued, ¡°I¡¯m offering you a chance to reap some benefits before the conflict escalates in the next few years. It matters not to me where you stand, Stroud. But for you ¡ª every step must be taken with care. I will give you a few days to decide. Think carefully...¡±

    She waved him off unceremoniously and he departed after satisfying her with a hasty bow. The Magus wearing the guise of an attendant was nowhere to be seen as he passed back through the antechamber and the lobby.

    Stroud slunk down the stairs and back into his cave in a daze, barely registering his arrival.

    He felt light-headed and sick to his stomach as he sat in the darkness at the edge of his bed. While en route, his worries had uncoiled from his mind and punctured his heart with their poisonous thorns, wrapping snugly around it.

    Part of him was relieved to discover that his fears had never been unfounded in the first place, but that glimmer of self-satisfaction was greatly overshadowed by their strengthened presence. They wrested themselves out of his control, swiftly growing beyond his range of comfort.

    He had thought time to be on his side for once, but it had betrayed him again. Events had already been set rolling into motion and they were tumbling downhill with a speed he was not certain he would be able to outrun. Lady Adelais was no fool, but neither was Prince Ajax...

    A few years¡ª! Blood pumped furiously through Stroud¡¯s veins as his dark eyes widened, blazing with a hint of madness. He refused to close them because all that waited for him behind his eyelids was the abyssal black waters of the Chasm.

    Think, Stroud!

    Lady Adelais¡¯ estimate was sure to be generous. ¡®A few years¡¯ was likely when the conflict between her and the prince would erupt on the surface. Their battle in the shadows had already begun, and he had willingly delivered himself to the forefront.

    Stroud¡¯s breathing was heavy and ragged. In his mind, he could see the Guiding Hand grinning down at him from the depths of the void as he stumbled headfirst into every trap and pitfall it had designed. And it felt like looming behind Lady Adelais¡¯ offer was another quagmire ¡ª deeper and more dangerous than any of the others. He would not be able to climb out with his meager strength.

    It was no longer a simple matter of benefit or healing his Sea. It had become a fight for survival. And survive he must. There were still too many mysteries lingering behind the shadow of death and the process of transference into the afterlife. Unless he knew where the ferryman of the damned would deliver him and could ensure another successful reincarnation, Stroud was determined to exhaust every last option available to him in this life.

    He contemplated running away. There were some meager funds remaining that could ferry him to another town or city¡­ But what then?

    More than anything else, he needed power and information if he was to become master of his own destiny. Since his very first day in this world ¡ª this thought had already been looping through Stroud¡¯s mind in a neatly paved circuit. And his anxiety was the racecar scorching around this track. But now, his brakes had been cut and it was only a matter of time until his focus slipped and he crashed headfirst into a wall.

    If he escaped and wandered aimlessly through the reaches, there were no guarantees. He had no practical skills outside of literacy and math, and those were not liable to take him far in such a dangerous world when he had no more connections to fall back on.

    Stroud refused to rely on luck when the Mistress of Fate was dealing the cards.

    At the Sanctum, he wasn¡¯t completely without options. But with certainty, the Headmistress would make his life miserable if she didn''t just outright have him killed for refusing her. The threat lingering at the end of her proposition was evidence of that.

    Stroud had unknowingly delivered himself to the lion''s den, and the lioness had issued him a choice: Join the pride or become their next meal.

    Though, he rather imagined his existence in her mind would be more akin to a gladiator¡¯s than a valued member of a family. He would fight in her name against the prince¡¯s champions, receiving prizes for every victory whereas failure would mean his death.

    For how long he fought in the bloody arena would be determined by how quickly he could gain her favor and prove himself more valuable than a mere pit fighter¡­

    This was no longer a matter of him allowing his paranoia to rule his actions. Stroud was truly penned in. And he could only rely on himself.

    The thorns punched deeper.

 Chapter 13

    ...Spell bridges can be formed during the process of casting in order to link two or more sigils for combination effects.

    The prerequisite for forming a bridge is the compatibility of the spells and the existence of focal points. Focal points appear naturally in every spell sigil, and the majority of sigils Tier 3 and below can contain upwards of five or six focal points.

    In order to locate the various focal points in a sigil, one must look for points where the spell energy converges or gathers during the casting process.

    Important: identifying all focal points does not guarantee two sigils can be bridged! Experimenting and discovering which ones allow two spells to work together is the key.

    Additionally, there may be multiple possible solutions, each yielding different results. Trial and error using talismans is strongly encouraged before deciding upon which spells to imprint into your Spirit Locus¡­

    ¡°What do you think, Stroud?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± Stroud glanced up from Maeve¡¯s notes as his hand ceased its idle waving of the feather duster. He turned around to find the girl standing in the center of the room with her hands on her hips, looking proudly upon her work.

    ¡°It looks nice, Madam,¡± he remarked. ¡°Very inviting¡­ I think Lady Marwood would approve of your taste.¡± Eyes roaming around the space, Stroud took in the many dark green and brown accents, and the bold red rug.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I much prefer this cozy feeling to the sleek and cold look of the city¡­¡±

    Stroud¡¯s ever-simmering agitation cooled as he saw Maeve smiling wholeheartedly for the first time in days.

    The quick transition into the Sanctum had been obviously unsettling for her. And her unease was only aggravated by the constant harassment from Sybil Berg. She needed a safe and comforting space to come back to, so he had put extra effort into helping her shop and decorate her room the past few days.

    It was also work that he could immerse himself in, providing a convenient distraction from the image of Lady Adelais¡¯ assured smile and the decision that hung prominently in the center of his every thought. Furthermore, spending more time in Maeve''s quarters meant that he could steal looks at her notes and books from her lectures. He never tried to be sneaky about it ¡ª as she was well aware of his interest in Arcana ¡ª but it wasn¡¯t really appropriate for a servant to be rifling through his master¡¯s personal effects, so he aimed for subtlety, at the very least.

    ¡°...There is one thing still missing,¡± she mused out loud, tapping a foot impatiently.

    ¡°And what would that be, Madam?¡±

    ¡°Plants!¡± Maeve brightened as she held up a finger triumphantly. ¡°Sir Reeve informed us that we won¡¯t be able to access the Northeastern Gardens until after the Second Crossing, but soon, the weather will finally warm up enough for them to begin cultivating new batches,¡± she informed, casting a sideways glance to the empty workstation attached to the bedroom. ¡°In the meantime, I¡¯d like to start working on tending to some herbs ¡ª spiritual or not ¡ª of my own. I¡¯ll need them around to practice with the spell I¡¯ll be imprinting soon...¡±

    Stroud considered her answer as her voice trailed off, nodding casually. ¡°I can look into it. Though, it may take some time to locate a suitable botanist.¡±

    As it happens, he was more than happy to. It would be ideal if he could find another person with alchemy expertise that may be willing to sell any doses of raw Nura. At this point in his internal deliberations, he couldn¡¯t see himself refusing Lady Adelais and her promise of a method to improve his physique. But it was always imperative to have contingencies in place.

    Frostrane was a large and prosperous city. He just needed to stay safe long enough to take advantage of all the opportunities it offered.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Maeve strolled over to her desk and plopped down in front of the notebooks which he¡¯d been perusing moments prior. ¡°With lessons taking up my time, it¡¯ll be at least another week before the first layer of my mindscape is wholly cleared, and then, I¡¯ll have to complete the engraving process as well¡­¡± she released a long, drawn-out sigh as if she had finally realized the full scope of the workload ahead of her.

    ¡°Remember not to rush yourself¡­¡± Stroud chided softly, moving to finish his task of clearing dust from the room.

    ¡°I know¡ª¡± Maeve groaned, sprawling forward. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ my birthday was so late compared to others, and everyone else got so far ahead of me¡­¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing that can be done about that, Madam.¡± Stroud whisked the duster across the trunk at the foot of Maeve¡¯s bed as he contemplated how best to placate the girl. ¡°The road ahead of you is long and it is best to retain a steady and assured pace to reach the end¡­¡±

    He looked over when Maeve laughed and saw her wrinkling her nose at him, ¡°That sounds almost exactly like something my grandfather used to write in his journals.¡±

    Stroud smiled. ¡°He was a smart man, was he not?¡±

    ¡°True.¡± She returned his grin briefly before launching back into her studies.

    The two of them worked in companionable silence as the sun continued along its trajectory into the crystal clear southern skies. Brilliant afternoon rays shone down on the Sanctum¡¯s sheer face undisturbed, spilling in great numbers into Maeve¡¯s room on the second floor.

    It was peaceful, blissful almost. The soft rumble of conversations in the corridor drifted beneath the door as the stone beneath Stroud¡¯s feet was saturated with warmth.

    But it made him anxious. Do not indulge. His throat constricted as the tendrils around his heart shifted in agitation. All of a sudden, the walls began pressing in all around him as his breath came in short, rough gasps.

    ¡°Madam¡­ I think I¡¯ll be taking a trip into the lower district to begin my search. Do you have any plans for the remainder of the day?¡± Stroud tucked his clammy palms behind his back after stowing away his cleaning tools.

    Maeve tapped her chin absentmindedly. ¡°I have a meeting scheduled with Sir Reeve after lunch hours¡­¡± her brows furrowed. ¡°I think he wants all the entrants under his care to form a circle for research and study.¡±

    Sensing her hesitation, Stroud made eye contact and replied seriously, ¡°I think it¡¯s in your best interest to attend. Purposefully avoiding Lady Berg will only prove to her that she''s getting under your skin. You must demonstrate confidence if you want things to improve.¡±

    Looking away, Maeve shrouded her face in her hair and grumbled under her breath, ¡°I know, I know¡­¡±

    Stroud sighed as he watched the girl. Seeing her so distressed elicited a tightness in his chest that seemed to supersede even his own worries. ¡°I¡¯ll be off, for now, Madam. But keep me informed if things get any worse.¡±

    Hearing her murmured agreement, he walked over to the coat rack in the entryway to retrieve his cap, scarf, and fur-lined jacket. It hadn¡¯t taken him long to realize the importance of these clothing articles in the city.

    Winds ¡ª especially in the inner district ¡ª were brutal, and could easily pass through the thinner fabric of a cloak. But even worse was the glare of the sunlight off the rimesteel shingles and window trim. At this point in the day, it could be blinding without any protection for the eyes.

    Stroud cast one final glance at Maeve before heading out the door. They both could use some fresh air and some time alone.

    Walking briskly, he passed by the apprentices loitering around in the corridors. They had a tendency to ignore anyone who wasn¡¯t wearing the formal robes of the Sanctum. As long as Stroud kept his head down, he was practically invisible to the haughty heirs; however, the blossoming pride of the commoners who had passed through the Selections and entered the Arcanium was a different matter entirely.

    He found their behavior particularly insufferable, and he was an easy target for them due to his size and age relative to the other servants. His thoughts were punctuated by a young man who somehow bumped shoulders with him in the wide and nearly empty Borean Tunnel.

    ¡°Watch it, dreg¡ª!¡± the apprentice cursed.

    Stroud¡¯s blood roiled as the fiery toxins of the thorns seeped into his heart and pumped through his veins. He was not in the mood to satisfy this boy¡¯s newfound self-importance.

    Carried forward by long strides, his lips remained sealed. But when the student followed to pursue the issue, Stroud lashed out, employing his spiritual perception like a whip.

    Stunned, the boy flinched back. And that was all the time Stroud needed to put enough distance between the two of them. The wind howled in his ears and frustration smoldered in the pit of his stomach as he crossed the plaza with haste and tromped down the grand stairway, descending into the city below.

    Calm down. Endure. Stroud doused himself in the simple mantra as he ducked into one of the many dark and narrow alleys. He knew he needed to maintain a cool head if he were to surmount the complications he felt piling on top of him. Composure.

    Resolve temporarily suffused his gaze as his feet carried him through one of the few winding paths he was familiar with in the inner district.

    During his previous outings to shop and resupply, he¡¯d taken to wandering around the streets outside the mansions of the nobles and wealthy elites. For one, he deemed it wise to familiarize himself with as much of Frostrane as possible. And furthermore, the roads that climbed higher up the mountainside were much less crowded. Quiet. Great for simply walking around amidst pleasant scenery to clear his head. It was easy to lose himself in the twisting pathways filled with shadows...

    Stroud had realized after his meeting with the headmistress that it was dangerous for him to spend too much time sitting alone in his room, bathing in questions and angst. When his body was moving and the world was shifting around him ¡ª it felt much easier to think through his problems.

    Today was much the same. If he was really interested in finding a botanist, he would have asked around at the Sanctum first. This trip was nothing more than a thinly veiled excuse to separate himself from Lady Adelais¡¯ roost.

    But he wouldn¡¯t be able to run for much longer...

    In what seemed like no time at all, Stroud arrived at the wall separating the two districts. The guards at the gate nodded to him as he flashed his Sanctum medallion in a familiar manner and strolled by without breaking his stride.

    Passing into the outer city was abrasive, as it always was. A myriad of smells and loud noises washed over him in a foul wave. There was such a drastic difference, that it really felt like there was some sort of invisible barrier ¡ª in addition to the large wall ¡ª that separated the two major sectors of Frostrane.

    Fighting the urge to pinch his nose, Stroud made his way directly to the west-central market. The location was about as high class as it could get in the Verum. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Verum, he had learned early on, meant true heart, and was derived from the old tongue the contemporary Tundra Walkers had inherited from the ancient and isolated tribes who had called the frozen wastes their home long before the nobles of Redenia had migrated into their territory and seized their cities.

    As a result of their long history, a good percentage of the native residents he¡¯d met in Frostrane could trace their bloodline back to one of the various northern tribes, and they all considered the inner district as being a part of the Sanctum and not a true part of the city. And it was hard to disagree with that sentiment considering how lifeless the upper paths of the mountain often were...

    Stray thoughts continued to wander through Stroud¡¯s mind like a pack of starving animals as he arrived at his destination. He roved between the stalls and benches scattered around the open square, sniffing greedily at the air as he was finally saved from the stench of festering waste. There were quite a few nice restaurants in the market and they all kept their windows open, allowing the smells trapped inside throughout the morning to waft into the air and tempt passersby.

    Regrettably, he didn¡¯t have any money to indulge in the food, but Stroud was able to bury himself in the crowd. He spent a few minutes just circling around the area, dipping his cap low over his eyes.

    A few of the shops that had actual storefronts displayed interesting wares. Mostly jewelry and other fine articles of clothing, but there was one in particular that he repeatedly came back to. This store displayed interesting gadgets covered in the distinct markings and geometric patterns of spell sigils. Previously, he¡¯d entered the building, only to quickly find out that the clerk didn¡¯t take kindly to people coming in to browse.

    Though, it made sense. The items were all ridiculously expensive but relatively small in size which made them easy to steal.

    Still, a single angry shopkeep couldn¡¯t hold Stroud¡¯s curiosity at bay and he found his eyes glued to a metallic ball the size of his fist once more. His bare fingertips pressed against the cool glass as he stared hungrily through the window.

    He had a feeling that these were the kind of tools he would need ¡ª even if he had no clue what their purpose or function was at the current time.

    Eventually, his lingering captured the attention of one of the older assistants inside. With a menacing glare, the man approached the window. They locked eyes in a determined clash of will, but not for long because both their attention was captured by a sudden commotion across the market.

    An apprehensive murmur rippled through the crowd as people began congregating outside one of the restaurants.

    Stroud hurried over, sidling between the heavily dressed bodies until he found some space to observe the scene. He lacked the height to see over anyone, so he decided to perch atop the base of the fountain in the center of the square.

    ¡°Guards¡­! Guards¡ª!¡± A heavyset man blustered as he stood over a tall and thin figure struggling on the ground. He grasped the hood of the perpetrator¡¯s cloak between his meaty fingers to make sure the person wouldn¡¯t try to run off.

    ¡°Make way!¡± A gruff, bearded soldier shouted as he marched toward the scene. His spotless chainmail glittered almost as conspicuously as rimesteel and identified him as one of the city watchmen. The onlookers parted, allowing him to approach unmolested.

    Sensing this man coming near, the accused began to struggle, pushing and kicking weakly at the restaurateur, but was ultimately unable to muster the strength to even stand up.

    ¡°Basil! What¡¯s the problem here?¡± The guard''s voice was low and menacing as he rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. He swept his gaze across the crowd, daring them to step any closer.

    Basil released his grip and folded his arms, scowling. ¡°Took you long enough, Horace,¡± he barked, gesturing to the captive, ¡°this thief broke into my larder ¡ª intent on making out with my stock.¡±

    Horace snorted somewhat dismissively in reply and kneeled down to help the accused sit up properly.

    Stroud strained his eyes, but he wasn¡¯t able to make out any of the thief¡¯s features through the layers of rags serving as a makeshift scarf. All he could plainly see was Basil¡¯s victorious grin and the concern etched onto Horace¡¯s forehead.

    It perturbed him how familiar the guard and restaurant owner appeared with each other. Though, it was also evident that they shared no love between them. Bristling with anger, Horace supported the quivering thief''s back.

    ¡°Not this again¡­¡± A woman¡¯s loud sigh sounded to Stroud¡¯s right.

    ¡°Are there any witnesses that can support your claim, Basil.¡± Horace towered over the fat man, loosening his broad shoulders in an overt attempt at intimidation.

    ¡°Ha¡ª!¡± Basil refused to back down, laughing loudly in the guard¡¯s face. ¡°There¡¯s no need for this kind of interplay today, Horace. This isn¡¯t one of those filthy urchins you so doggedly defend¡­ Take a closer look at the thief and your questions will resolve themselves!¡±

    Horace took a confused step back as the thief''s trembling intensified. Turning back and forth between the fat man and the willowy figure on the ground, realization finally seemed to dawn on the guard.

    His face reddened as his body stood rigid. ¡°Basil¡­ you¡¯ve gone too far this time¡­¡±

    Stroud could barely pick up the man¡¯s words over the low whispering around him. But in the next breath, he clearly heard the voice of the accused thief for the first time.

    It was a musical noise ¡ª a light and ephemeral ringing akin to the subtle shaking of glassware. And Stroud¡¯s immediate impression was that the language was exceptionally beautiful, albeit bizarre.

    However, the mob seemed to think differently. They released a collective gasp, causing the thief to shrink back.

    ¡°What¡¯re you waiting for, Horace?¡± Basil barked. ¡°You¡¯ve heard it. That thief is a Cosmae! A Stray!¡±

    Cosmae. Another race, perhaps? Stroud had never heard mention of them either in passing or in literature. It was possible they were reclusive people, but everyone else seemed well aware of their existence.

    ¡°I know what it is!¡± Horace bellowed back, chest heaving. His hand was back on the hilt of his sword. While the guard was obviously reluctant to apprehend the Cosmae, the mass of people around the market was growing denser with each passing second. The pressure on the guard to make a decision intensified.

    Anger boiled in Stroud¡¯s stomach. His impression of Basil had reached the lowest possible depths. The man evidently thought he had won, and his smile broadened as he soaked up all the attention. Vile was the only word Stroud could think of to describe someone who reveled in the misfortune of another.

    A flash of light caught his eye as Horace pulled more of his sword from its sheath and the steel bathed in the cool air. ¡°I will see you ruined for this one day¡­¡±

    Basil rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, ¡°You say this practically every time. But if you did a better job keeping riff-raff off the streets ¡ª we wouldn¡¯t be having this issue!¡±

    ¡°You¡ª! You¡¯re the one who lures them in!¡± All but the tip of Horace¡¯s longsword was exposed and many in the crowd began to back away nervously.

    ¡°Horace! Stand down!¡±

    A white-haired man donning silver plate-armor bulldozed his way to the conflict, flanked by two more guards. His presence exploded when he reached the clearing that had formed, pushing the onlookers back further.

    Stroud was shocked by the robustness of the older man¡¯s aura. He cut a figure more sturdy and dependable than the walls surrounding the city. At least 2nd Order¡­

    ¡°My apologies, Captain Obrite. I allowed things to get out of hand.¡± Horace¡¯s sword immediately found its home back in the rugged sheath as he bowed low to his superior.

    ¡°Captain Obrite! I¡¯d like to lodge a complaint against¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up, Basil.¡± Obrite¡¯s pale blue eyes froze the restaurateur. With a flick of his hand, the guards behind the captain apprehended the thief with haste. ¡°In accordance with Redenia law, this Stray is to be executed for violating the Non-Admittance Pact. The date and the location of the sentencing will be announced two days henceforth.¡±

    Frantic, grating cries rang from the mouth of the Cosmae as it struggled in the grip of the guards. Its words had lost their splendor, sounding shrill as the voice was overcome with despair. Horace frowned, but he seemed resigned to the decision.

    In fact, everyone did. It was as if a dark cloud had descended over the market. The mood was heavy as many turned away from the scene and scurried indoors.

    Stroud too, couldn¡¯t bear to observe any longer. There would be no trial... no presentation of evidence. The Cosmae had been identified and the only outcome apparently resided beneath the executioner¡¯s blade.

    His stomach churned at the thought, and he felt it may have been a very poor idea to go out for a walk¡­

    ***

    Satisfied, Reeve smiled softly as he gazed around his accommodations.

    A fire crackled softly in the hearth, shedding its light across the warm oak furniture. Having the wood imported was costly ¡ª especially with the Sanctum¡¯s rather inconvenient location ¡ª but he much preferred the more durable and darker material. Pine was too light to complement the deeper reds and yellows he liked, and it was too cheap to be befitting the quarters of a Magus.

    He didn¡¯t expect the students to wholly appreciate his taste and efforts in establishing a comfortable environment, but that didn¡¯t mean Reeve would allow himself to suffer anything less.

    The snacks were laid out and the water for tea was heating in the kettle; now all that awaited him were his guests. He hoped everyone would be in attendance. Though, he knew that might be difficult to actually arrange. The Marwood and Berg heirs did not get along.

    Bringing them together more frequently could escalate the issue beyond what he was comfortable intervening between, but separating them might cause the Berg girl to seek out the other party of her own initiative. And that would certainly be worse.

    At least, the presence of the young Lord Ernhart prevented Sybil from acting too boldly.

    Reeve sighed as his mind played out the possible outcomes. He thought this would be best for the girls, but then again, he¡¯d never been too successful in dealing with the bullies present during his own apprenticeship.

    Maeve was the primary victim, and as a result, his favor lay with her. However, he couldn¡¯t allow that sentiment to show for fear of offending the Bergs. After all, they were more valuable allies than the Marwoods, and their father had formally thrown in his lot with Lady Adelais¡­

    A knock on the door roused Reeve from his thoughts.

    ¡°Coming!¡± Worries forgotten, he rushed over to welcome the first arrival. ¡°Ah, Lord Ernhart! It¡¯s good to see you!¡±

    Impassive brown eyes glanced briefly up at Reeve before the young man entered. He looked around the room and gave a silent nod of appreciation.

    Pride surged through Reeve¡¯s weary bones and he was unable to suppress his smile. The approval of an Ernhart was not easily won.

    One might think that they had an inclination toward the unembellished, but the opposite was more close to the truth.

    Subtle displays of wealth were their forte. A primary example being how the Ernhart heir had chosen to forgo the Sanctum¡¯s uniform and still wore his plain brown robes. The outfit professed more humble origins, but Reeve knew that the boy¡¯s clothing was actually spun from Weaver¡¯s Silk ¡ª one of the most expensive materials available in the kingdom. Due to its scarcity, it was only imported a few times a year, and even Lady Adelais only had a single dress composed of the silk.

    It was notoriously soft and pliable and breathed extraordinarily well. A less discerning eye may have mistaken the fabric for something else, but its muted gloss and light shifting wasn¡¯t missed by Reeve.

    If only one day he could get his hands on such a fine robe, his life would be complete¡­

    Upon hearing a shrill whistling from the kettle on the hotplate, Reeve pushed those fanciful dreams from his mind and got to work as the host.

    ¡°Please, have a seat, Lord Ernhart. Has the Sanctum been treating you well thus far?¡± he moved into the kitchen area to pour out a cup of tea but stopped abruptly when the boy held up his hand.

    ¡°All is well. My father would approve of the arrangements.¡± Lord Ernhart¡¯s voice was unintentionally quiet as he pulled out a chair for himself. It carried the weight of someone who was used to having his listeners hang on his every word.

    Reeve nodded, removing the spirit shard from the spell formation on the counter. When the boiling water had settled, he replied, ¡°I¡¯m relieved to hear that¡­ Might I ask if your vassals will be joining us?¡±

    ¡°We are here to discuss our plans for pursuing a supporting vocation, are we not?¡± Lord Ernhart cocked his head to the side, staring questioningly.

    ¡°Correct¡­¡± The word left Reeve¡¯s mouth slowly.

    ¡°Then all is well,¡± the boy¡¯s lips curled up, but his smile didn¡¯t reveal any teeth. ¡°My vassals already have their futures laid out for them. As soon as they have the ability to cast my family¡¯s spells ¡ª they¡¯ll spend their days enriching the fiefdom¡¯s soil and overseeing all of our harvests.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Reeve chuckled dryly. He did not envy those young men and women, realizing how fortunate he was to have entered the service of the nobility after already having become a Magus.

    But before their conversation could continue, loud shouting erupted in the hallway. Reeve huffed angrily. Who had the audacity to cause a disturbance in the upper halls?

    He marched over to his door and swung it open, glaring at the offenders.

    ¡®Heavens above,¡¯ he lamented.

    Miss Marwood and Miss Berg stood an arm¡¯s length apart from each other, just outside his room. Already, there were hints of murderous intent in both the young girls¡¯ eyes. They were so focused on each other that they had completely missed his presence.

    ¡°...What achievements could a base noble like yourself ever hope to have in the refined fields of Arcane research?¡± Sybil ridiculed.

    Almost immediately, Reeve surmised that this meeting may have been a very poor idea after all¡­

 Chapter 14

    Stroud closed his eyes to the bleak lobby, intent on entering his mindscape immediately. But as he arrived in the vast space, the desolate cries of the Cosmae echoed through his consciousness, destabilizing his normally steady hand.

    The same issue had disrupted his efforts at engraving the previous night as well. Initially, he intended to shove the uneasy feeling into the mass of worries he already had, but he thought better of strengthening his fears and decided to come to terms with this one ¡ª if only because it was comparatively easy to unravel.

    He already knew why the Cosmae¡¯s predicament had disturbed him.

    Here, in the Terram Vigari, there was no due process ¡ª no checks and balances... Because it was individual power that granted authority and not the other way around.

    Common citizens of the Tristram Principality adhered to a set of laws, like most others. But some people unavoidably lived outside those bindings due to the presence of magic. Thus, rendering them a brittle shield for those who relied on their protection.

    When the guard captain had arrived on the scene, he simply announced the Stray would be executed and that was that. No one who had been present at the time had the ability to say otherwise, even if the law was on their side.

    Stroud could guess that there was more involved in the immediateness of the sentencing; a reason why the Cosmae were to receive no trial... Regardless, it made it all the more obvious to him ¡ª more real ¡ª that unlike in his old world, there were some existences here that paid no mind to societal rules or norms.

    Lady Adelais was one such being. And he knew from the beginning that she had only given him the illusion of choice. There had only ever been one answer to her calling: serve.

    As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, there was no denying her influence. If she wanted him dead ¡ª there was nothing that could protect him. He had the impression that the former Marchioness feared no organization or person in the reaches.

    Stroud exhaled a shuddering breath as the supposed thief''s screams dissipated, and his acceptance stabilized his quaking mind. He could only continue biding his time.

    A loud creak suddenly alerted him to prying eyes, so Stroud rose to his feet. The large doors of the antechamber were pried half-open and the cloth-masked attendant urged him inside.

    His familiarity with the Headmistress¡¯ office did little to ease his nerves, but he managed to keep his back straight and his gaze forward ¡ª trained on the back wall.

    As she had previously, Lady Adelais had him suffer through a few tense, cold moments before she finally acknowledged his presence: ¡°I take it you¡¯ve come to a decision.¡±

    Stroud grimaced as he watched her punctuate whatever she had been writing with a satisfied tap of her quill. ¡°I have¡­ I am ready to take the binding oath and enter into your service, Headmistress.¡±

    ¡°Very well, you may approach the desk.¡± Lady Adelais¡¯ thin fingers pushed the freshly completed document into the center of the table as he approached with short steps. The rug beneath his boots crunched softly with each footfall like it was covered in a layer of frost.

    When he was close enough, Stroud finally got a good look at what she had been working on. It was a spell sigil ¡ª much to his surprise. And an exceedingly intricate one at that. Compared to the one in his possession, this sigil had deeper and more profound layers; and to his untrained eye, it almost looked like it was composed of multiple complex spells woven together rather than a singular, more detailed one.

    ¡°...What is this?¡± Distracted by his awe, Stroud couldn¡¯t prevent the question from escaping his lips.

    She returned his question with her own, ¡°Are you familiar with the different classifications of runes?¡±

    ¡°I am not¡­¡± Stroud was still unable to tear his eyes away from the sigil, but his desire for new knowledge eventually won out and he diverted a portion of his attention to listen to her words.

    ¡°Well, there are three basic types: conversion, principle, and alteration. Typically, some combination of these three is used to form a spell¡­¡± Stroud could feel her inspecting his reaction carefully, but he was truly ignorant of most information related to spellcasting. ¡°...However, there are a few runes that cannot be placed into any single one of those fields ¡ª because they incorporate aspects of all of them.¡±

    That statement seemed completely contradictory to what she had just previously said. ¡°Then¡­ wouldn¡¯t that just make them a sigil?¡±

    Lady Adelais shrugged indifferently. ¡°Some Magi argue that point, but most agree to acknowledge these anomalies as transcendent runes.¡± She held up a hand before Stroud could inquire further. ¡°Of course, there¡¯s a reason for this: Most of them can actually be combined together with other runes without spell bridges. Sigils, on the other hand, absolutely require bridges to be able to work together.¡±

    Stroud nodded. He could see the distinction. ¡°So then¡­ this sigil¡­¡± he said, gesturing to the document, ¡°contains a transcendent rune... or runes?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡± Lady Adelais wore a pleased smile as she pointed to the central rune with her quill. ¡°This is the principle rune for binding: Alliga. And I have connected it with the transcendent runes for oath and time ¡ª allowing us to form a contract.¡± She moved her hand across the page as she spoke, illuminating each component.

    While grateful for the lesson, Stroud was unsure why she was taking the time to educate him on the topic ¡ª or if she was even telling the truth. His impression of binding oaths, from some further research these past few days, was that they were a verbal affair, sealed by blood. Maeve also hadn¡¯t mentioned there was an actual spell involved when he¡¯d probed her knowledge.

    Stroud would have loved some more time to research these oaths again in order to ensure he wasn¡¯t being taken advantage of, but now, that opportunity had passed him by. He didn¡¯t imagine Lady Adelais would allow him to back out at this current juncture¡­

    Soft laughter interrupted his train of thought. ¡°I appreciate your caution, Stroud. I¡¯ve seen too many ignorant young Magi in a hurry to sign away their futures. Because binding oaths are so commonplace among our ilk, people have a tendency to overlook the foundational details. They forget that these transcendent runes are calling on a higher power than we are capable of manipulating ourselves ¡ª making them more dangerous than we can fully comprehend.¡±

    A spark of life flourished in the barrens of Lady Adelais¡¯ eyes as she spoke. ¡°These runes are absolute in nature. Do you understand? Defying any of the terms we are hereby agreeing to will break the binding between us and result in death for the offending party.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Shivers crawled down Stroud¡¯s spine. And for the first time since entering the room, they weren¡¯t a result of the frigid temperature. ¡°T-Then could you allow me a chance to study up on the runes? It wouldn¡¯t take me more than another day or two¡­¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The blossoming excitement vanished from her face, replaced in short order by her cold and sharp mask. ¡°I would never deceive anyone in my service ¡ª as you¡¯ll come to appreciate. My requests and conditions are always made clear, and I always offer appropriate reparations. That is my code.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ understand¡­¡± Stroud clenched his hands behind his back. Her code was honorable, in a sense. But he knew she could only afford to live by such standards because she had the strength to strong-arm anyone around her into compliance. Her orders were just as absolute as the spell that bound the two parties together¡­

    ¡°Good. The duration of this contract will be five years ¡ª the typical length of time it takes to complete an apprenticeship. Though, if Maeve becomes a First Order Magus before this time period is up, we can renegotiate if she desires to leave the Sanctum.¡±

    After receiving a nod from Stroud, Lady Adelais continued, ¡°The basic stipulations are that you will adhere to all orders or requests of mine during this period, and in exchange, I will pass along my family¡¯s method for body strengthening and other suitable rewards for any tasks completed. Additionally, you must not reveal ¡ª to anyone ¡ª the secrets of the Adelais family or the Sanctum that I will disclose.¡±

    ¡°Very well¡­¡± Stroud exhaled a despairing sigh as reality and another bout of helplessness set in. He didn¡¯t make any effort to hide his reluctance, but the headmistress paid him no mind as she procured a brush and a vial of clear liquid from her desk.

    With practiced ease, she dipped the brush into the strange ink reeking of arcane might and traced it over the lines of the dark sigil.

    Following the silent and tense completion of that step, she passed Stroud a thin needle.

    His jaw clenched as he hovered over the contract, needle positioned above his pointer finger ¡ª copying her movements.

    ¡°Now¡­ All we need to do is seal the contract with a drop of our blood and issue our vows out loud for the heavens to bear witness. I¡¯ll lay out the terms and exact details of the contract, and when I indicate for you to speak, all you need to say is ¡®I agree.¡¯¡± No signs of anticipation or agitation were evident in Lady Adelais deft movements as she quickly pierced her finger and squeezed the bright crimson drop onto the sigil.

    Stroud followed closely behind, and as their blood splattered, a boundless pressure descended on the room. It felt like a massive primordial beast was breathing down his neck as Stroud shakingly began to recite his oath. He was so distracted by the sudden arrival of the being nearly forgot to continue at a certain point.

    What is this...? Could this be a higher being!?

    Whatever or whoever it was, its power was certainly unfathomable. Stroud''s breath grew haggard as his mind spiraled toward numerous different possibilities.

    Is there really a realm of Gods or beings that transcend the limits of the world? Are they related in any to those who manage the afterlife?

    ...Is it possible to speak with them or contact them through ceremonies such as this?

    It took an exceptionally icy glare from Lady Adelais to finally bring him back into focus. For now, Stroud could only temporarily swallow his questions and continue, but transcendent runes had definitely shot to the top of his list for future subjects of research.

    With every word, the pressure built. And accompanying the pressure was a subtle but omnipresent sensation of being watched.

    Stroud fought against the urge to glance around as his legs quivered like jelly. He had a feeling that his mind would be unable to remain intact should he meet the gaze of the being witnessing their contract.

    Finally, as the last syllables of their chants echoed through the office, the contract glowed with an eerie, bloody light. The pressure vanished without a trace.

    Releasing the breath he¡¯d been holding in, Stroud looked down at the currently dull and faded sheet of parchment. Lady Adelais was already seated back in her chair, fingers casually reaching toward a stack of documents as if all that had just occurred was a fleeting illusion.

    Almost as an afterthought, the woman glanced up briefly and tossed him a thin booklet that had been hiding behind her pile of work. ¡°You may go,¡± she remarked dryly. ¡°I will call for you sometime in the next few days, and you may return the journal then¡­¡±

    Stroud¡¯s mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water as he swallowed a reply. In the end, he simply tucked the journal into his coat before ducking out of the room.

    ***

    ¡°This better have been worth it¡­¡±

    The loud thumping of a heart drowned out the hoarse muttering; each rapid beat traveling in a pulsing wave through the darkness.

    Stroud¡¯s trembling hands fumbled to light the candle at his bedside as anticipation surged momentarily to swallow his dread. His future would soon be revealed by the worn pages of the notebook resting atop the blankets beside him.

    Hope or despair¡­

    A small spark of light accompanied the swift scratching of a match, and quickly, his shaking fingers were transferred from their position hovering above the candle over to the book¡¯s leather binding.

    The title on the cover was written in a script that Stroud didn¡¯t recognize, but his worst fears were allayed when he laid his eyes on the carefully scrawled notes in the first page¡¯s margins.

    Having seen Lady Adelais¡¯ handwriting in her office, he knew that the annotations were not made by her. The letters flowed more flamboyantly and naturally than her steady and precise hand would allow.

    This provided him some measure of comfort, but Stroud was unable to entirely subdue the squirming of the thorns deep in his chest. Moving carefully, his gaze traveled down the page as he consciously swallowed his saliva.

    Blood Steeping.

    That was the name given by the original translator to the body strengthening method described in the notebook. And overall, it was a fairly simple process once the ingredients were all gathered.

    The difficulty instead lay in the gathering process: harvesting blood directly from the heart of live Spirit Beasts.

    Stroud stifled a groan as he continued skimming through the short pages. His initial thought was that the Adelais family method would be similar to Old Witch Gau¡¯s ¡ª gathering spiritual herbs to brew or distill a specialized elixir mainly comprised of Nura. While that idea wasn¡¯t too far from the truth, the addition of the blood gave rise to a host of complications.

    According to the translator¡¯s notes, the potency and effects of the medicinal paste derived from Blood Steeping depended primarily on the characteristics and strength of the Spirit Beast that the blood was drawn from.

    That meant he likely needed to find a beast of the Primal attribute if he wanted to achieve the best results. And he needed to somehow capture it alive¡­

    He was also confident that Lady Adelais would offer him no assistance in this regard ¡ª unless he accumulated sufficient merits in her service, of course. But that was only the beginning. There were still many spiritual and mundane herbs necessary for extracting the potent lifeforce and essence from the heart blood.

    In all likelihood, these herbs would be similarly expensive or difficult to find; and the ones marked as the most important ¡ª like the Vitum Leaf ¡ª would have their supply controlled by the Adelais family. Even though he had declared an oath not to disclose the secret of Blood Steeping, that didn¡¯t mean no one could steal his copy of the method or that he couldn¡¯t leak it in some roundabout way.

    Therefore, he was confident that the Adelais¡¯s would have the means to prevent their enemies from benefiting from the recipe they¡¯d recovered.

    Stroud could already picture the Headmistress gazing at him expressionlessly as she dangled the precious ingredients in front of his eyes while he jumped through all of her hoops. He clenched his jaw as he took out his own journal and copied down all the unfamiliar names of the mentioned herbs and the steps to carry out the steeping.

    When he was all finished, he carefully hid away both books and inhaled a deep breath to calm himself. First, he needed to gain a comprehensive picture of the situation before he jumped to conclusions.

    Ideally, he would be able to gather everything himself. He already had a good excuse to go asking around at some of the local suppliers of alchemical ingredients, and the hunters in the area would have more knowledge of the Spirit Beasts present in the region...

    Stroud knew he wasn¡¯t entirely without options. And he would be damned if he didn¡¯t exhaust every one of them before completely bowing his head in front of the Marchioness.

 Chapter 15

    In the dark and reverberant room, Stroud¡¯s facial muscles twitched sporadically while he sat closed-eyes on top of his mattress.

    Within his misty mindscape, fragments of ethereal shale and stone chips rained down through the void. His engraving was finally nearing completion after the past few days of frantic work.

    But as rivulets of sweat streamed down his face, he forced himself to stop short. His mind was strained to the limit, nearly resulting in an errant swipe of his consciousness across the growing sigil just moments prior. Minor mistakes could be remedied, to an extent, but anything that harmed the integral structure of the spell model would require a wipe and a complete restart ¡ª erasing precious weeks of effort...

    As many times as he told himself not to be too hasty, Stroud found it increasingly difficult to abide by his own decrees.

    Eyes fluttering open, he breathed out, exhaling the tension in his body as he glanced down at the clear vial in his lap. Typically, this would be the time of night when he swallowed some of the raw Nura to work on his body.

    Only now, there was just this single dose left. The others had been exhausted during his time in the Sanctum thus far, and he hesitated to squander his remaining supply.

    With an alternative method for enhancing his physique now in hand, he could now use this Nura as he¡¯d originally intended ¡ª to cast spells in times of need. It would likely be a crucial trump card in his missions for the Headmistress as Stroud had a sneaking suspicion that his tasks would never be as harmless as eavesdropping on a few conversations, or the like.

    And while he loathed that his progress would stagnate during the time it would take to gather the ingredients for the Blood Steeping, it seemed inevitable.

    Dismissing his apprehensions concerning his personal progress, for the time being, Stroud turned his thoughts to another pressing issue that had recently cropped up in his mind.

    It had taken him some time, but he finally realized just how self-absorbed he¡¯d been while wallowing in anxiety. Stroud firmly believed that his burdens were his own to carry. But as he shut everyone else out, he¡¯d also neglected to consider their involvement in the Headmistress¡¯s ploys.

    Earlier in the evening, it had dawned on him that the Marwoods probably had no idea about the impending conflict between Lady Adelais and Prince Ajax.

    When recalling the scene at that dinner gathering, Stroud felt it odd that the Baron was so surprised and eager to send Maeve off to Frostrane ¡ª because it was equivalent to throwing his lot in with the former Marchioness.

    A decision like that would normally require some serious consideration. And while the Marwoods held no love for the prince¡¯s regime after the incident when the official had attacked Maeve¡­ that didn¡¯t mean they were immediately ready to stand beside a potential usurper.

    Ultimately, Stroud believed that Baron Marwood was no fool; he was just lacking critical information. This train of thought didn¡¯t need to run along its tracks for very long before it arrived at a culprit: Landon.

    The steward must have been shirking his duties, intentionally or otherwise. This was the only conceivable explanation for the Baron¡¯s ignorance ¡ª given that the whole purpose of the man being stationed in the capital was so that he could stay up to date on the happenings of the principality and the kingdom.

    That being the case, it remained to be seen what Landon¡¯s motives were. He was obviously dissatisfied with his current lot in life, but at worst, Stroud had seen him vent his frustrations through harsh quips and an aloof demeanor.

    He didn¡¯t seem like someone who would allow his bosom friend to essentially offer up his daughter as a hostage.

    Yet, nothing could be ruled out. Jealousy and resentment could give birth to many complex feelings and thoughts...

    Stroud sighed, the sound of his heavy breath concealed by the creaking of his stiff joints as he stood up and stepped over to his desk. Wax dribbled slowly down the shaft of the fresh candle he had lit before his engraving session. His murky eyes followed the droplets in a daze while he gathered his thoughts. The quill in his hand remained stationary.

    Clarity eventually arrived in the time it took for nearly a third of the pale stick to burn. It wasn¡¯t his duty to dissect anyone¡¯s motives. All he needed to do was report.

    Stroud didn¡¯t fear Landon. He was only worried about how the Baron may react to the news.

    Matters¡­ would certainly grow more complicated. But the man deserved to know what his family had become embroiled in.

    After sliding the inkwell within reach, a soft scratching echoed through the room.

    ***

    ¡°...Morning, Stroud.¡± Maeve¡¯s blearly voice barely reached his ears as she poked her head around the half-open door to her room.

    The girl¡¯s hair was frazzled, billowing up and outwards like crackling tongues of flame. She rubbed absentmindedly at her drooping eyelids as the torchlight in the hallway glared angrily.

    Taking in her appearance, Stroud procured his pocket watch from within his coat and frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t you have a lesson to attend soon?¡±

    Coughing lightly into her hand, Maeve composed herself and slanted her brows into a stern expression. ¡°I¡¯ll be ready shortly. I was just up late last night doing some reading and happened to oversleep.¡±

    ¡°Mhm¡­¡± Stroud wasn¡¯t buying it, but he had too much he wanted to accomplish today to waste time pestering her. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ll be checking out some botanists again this afternoon. Do you have a list of anything you want me to keep an eye out for?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes! Hold on!¡± Maeve jolted fully awake. The warm rosy glow on her cheeks deepened as she spun around and scrambled back into her room, finally drawing the curtains. When she returned moments later with a small purse and a crumpled note in hand, the door swung wholly open, revealing her pajamas and the disheveled state of her bed. ¡°Here you go¡­¡± uncertainty flashed across her eyes, ¡°...These are only some of the herbs I know of from home. But if you see anything else that¡¯s interesting ¡ª don¡¯t hesitate to buy it. I¡¯m not too worried about the cost.¡±

    Stroud bowed his head as he retrieved the items from her hand. ¡°It shall be done, Madam.¡±

    Groggy students wearing their bright blue robes began filing into the corridor as their exchange was completed. Stroud wanted to leave before activities at the Sanctum kicked into full-swing, but as he grumbled to himself and turned to join the flow of traffic, he saw Maeve slouch dispiritedly before she disappeared behind her door.

    His chest tightened, pressed down upon by an inexplicable weight. His charge¡¯s despondence seemed to be growing in parallel with the mounting pressure of his own worries. Torn between turning back to comfort her and carrying on with his day, Stroud stood rooted in place. Though shortly, his choice was made for him. Jostled forward by the growing crowd, he was quickly swept away...

    ¡°May as well get on with¡­ We¡¯ll have plenty of time to speak in the evening¡­¡± Stroud grumbled to himself as he arrived in the empty plaza.

    It didn¡¯t take long for him to refocus after leaving the Sanctum¡¯s confines, and despite the earlier hiccup, his steps were more assured today as he quickly cut through the inner city and skirted around the Verum. His first order of business was to send off the letter he¡¯d written last night, so he disregarded all the familiar markets and shops as he made directly for the Courier¡¯s office.

    The building was located near the outer wall¡¯s main gate and looked just like any other in its vicinity: tall and broad with dirtied white walls and numerous small, shuttered windows. Stroud only knew of its location because it was right near the inn where Landon had booked a room the day they¡¯d arrived in the city.

    Waiting outside for a few minutes was plenty long enough to see numerous young men hurrying in and out of the bright royal blue door. Satchels dyed a similar color hung around their shoulders, and their frantic eyes turned left and right as they dodged around the foot traffic, making split decisions about the route they would take to their destination.

    However, upon entering, Stroud discovered that the atmosphere inside the building was quite the opposite of what he anticipated. All the couriers sat in small groups around rounded tables, drinking tea or other dark beverages that emanated warmth and a rich fragrance while they ate their breakfast.

    Soft conversations churned together in a low gurgle as the men laughed and joked with one another. Their casual attitudes infected Stroud with a surprising immediateness. He paused in the middle of the spacious lounge and breathed in the comforting smell that reminded him very much of a cup of coffee.

    Nostalgia hit him hard and fast, so it was fortunate that someone nearby promptly interrupted him before he sank too far into his reminiscing.

    ¡°Hey, kid! Messages are to be delivered over there ¡ª to Martin¡­¡±

    Stroud swiveled his head to locate the speaker and swiftly landed his eyes on a balding middle-aged man who was pointing him toward a long counter that stretched across an alcove in the back wall.

    He opened his mouth to offer his thanks, but before he had a chance to squeeze out the words, the man spoke again: ¡°Otherwise, if you¡¯re looking for work, just seek out Rica.¡± Despite the lack of hair atop his head, this messenger had plenty of it dangling below his chin. He stroked his russet beard thoughtfully as he eyed Stroud up and down. ¡°Yea, you look decent enough¡­ Tell her Armin sent you.¡±

    At this point, the gangly, sallow-faced teen sitting across from Armin had heard enough and chimed in, ¡°Cut the act, Old Man. You know we need all the help we can get these days.¡± As soon as he finished rebuffing his comrade, he stuffed a burnt sausage link into his mouth and started chewing noisily.

    Stroud was originally ready to pass by the two and get his business over with, but after seeing that Armin didn¡¯t protest, he leaned in with some interest. He¡¯d already begun thinking about some ways to earn extra coin and this looked like a good opportunity to at least scrounge up some information.

    ¡°Oh? What¡¯s the pay like for messengers working within the city limits?¡± he asked, casually.

    In response to the question, Armin sighed and leaned back in his chair, raising his mug to his lips. But he didn¡¯t speak.

    Rather, it was the thin man who answered Stroud through another mouthful of food: ¡°Well, it¡¯s all the old-timers like Armin who have the pleasure of ferrying letters and notices around the outer city. Most of the new guys are stuck with the correspondence leaving Frostrane. Pay is pretty decent though ¡ª as the office is offering almost twice the normal rate for each delivery. Seems like everyone in the city has got something going on all of a sudden and needs to get out the word. It¡¯s awfully fishy if you ask me¡­¡± he finished with a low grumble.

    ¡°Better keep your nose out of it, Tor ¡ª no matter how enticing the stench gets,¡± Armin reprimanded. The aged man scratched at his scalp, issuing a sigh before he finally shooed Stroud off, ¡°If you can¡¯t spare any time traveling out of the city just forget about it, kid.¡±

    Unbothered, Stroud reached into his purse and pulled out a silver Mor before Armin had a chance to return to his meal. He rolled the conspicuous sliver of metal between his fingers, immediately catching the eyes of a number of the nearby couriers.

    ¡°I¡¯m not from around here, so I wasn¡¯t exactly looking for work in the first place. But I am in need of someone to point me toward the best botanists and local hunters¡­¡±

    Tor promptly swallowed the spoonful of hard-boiled egg that had just been dangling in front of his mouth and looked at Stroud with eager eyes. Unfortunately for him, Armin snatched the coin with surprising speed.

    ¡°Heh, you came to the right man, kid. I¡¯ve been working the streets of Frostrane for the past 15 years.¡± Armin¡¯s sly and toothy grin stretched from ear to ear. ¡°Best hunters around are definitely the Walkers. A lot of ¡®em frequent Margo¡¯s Well.¡± He gesticulated with enthusiasm while he continued on, ¡°It¡¯s a tavern not too far from here along the western wall. It¡¯s a real... local joint, but you shouldn¡¯t run into any trouble ¡®long as you keep your head down and leave most of your coin at home. Breigr¡¯s group hangs around there most evenings, and that¡¯s who you¡¯ll want to speak with...¡±

    Thin tufts of facial hair slipped through Armin¡¯s fingers as he paused to think with a far-off look in his eyes, ¡°Botanists are a bit trickier. Most ¡®em do business closer to the Verum, and the only one I¡¯m really familiar with is Miss Harmont¡¯s place¡­ She¡¯s a cranky old codger but she has a reputation for doing honest work.¡±

    Stroud nodded along with the man¡¯s explanation and pulled out a slip of paper once he¡¯d finished. ¡°Alright then. Mind marking them down for me?¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Armin grunted his agreement and fetched an inkwell and quill from a nearby group. He started sketching out a rough map of the area, noting down landmarks while using the Courier¡¯s office as a focal point.

    It was at this point that Tor was unable to continue suppressing his urge to join the conversation. ¡°My older sister dabbled in Alchemy in the past...¡± he flouted as his knees bounced up and down beneath the table. ¡°She used to always go to Mar Vincent¡¯s shop near the west-central market.¡±

    The man ignored Armin¡¯s glare as his eyes remained fixed on Stroud. ¡°His prices are higher than the rest, but my sis never went anywhere else because she said that he always had the best quality herbs and the widest selection.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to take a look, thanks.¡± Stroud tipped his cap to the duo and handed each of them another coin after he received the shoddy map from Armin.

    He was finally about to head over to hand off his letter when the older fellow stopped him with a serious look and a word of warning, ¡°Be careful around Mar Vincent, if you visit. I¡¯ve heard he¡¯s a Magus that¡¯s been hiding up north from his enemies. Those folks are dangerous, kid¡­ You never know what might set them off.¡±

    ***

    Strolling through a familiar section of the city, Stroud shook his head absentmindedly as he wove between the passing bodies.

    The ramblings of the two couriers had raised his doubts, but the queue for outgoing mail at the office had been worse than he ever could have expected. Martin, the man running the operation, had warned him that it would be at least another week before his letter made it to the top of their list. Then, it would still take a few days of travel to arrive at the Baron¡¯s estate.

    He wasn¡¯t exactly pressed for time regarding the delivery, but earlier was obviously better. Instead, most of his worry was related to the trustworthiness of the messengers.

    Stroud had already avoided using the Sanctum¡¯s exclusive mailing services because he wanted to keep the content of the letter as private as possible, but there was still a nagging worry the contents would be exposed given how many hands it would pass through. He was clueless as to how deep Lady Adelais¡¯ or the Prince¡¯s men had infiltrated into the communication networks ¡ª but he imagined that it would be an area of priority for them both.

    Though, nothing could be done about it now. It was just another aspect of life he would have to adjust to and accept for what it was. Control and privacy were hard to come by in this world.

    He needed to¡­ let go in many ways, or the shadow of paranoia lingering behind him would rise from the earth and restrict him from making any progress forward. Stroud knew this well. He¡¯d circled around many similar thoughts an uncountable number of times in the past weeks. It was just really hard to take that first step in the right direction mentally...

    After a period of time, his ongoing battle with doubt and unrest came to a halt as he arrived in front of Harmont¡¯s Alchemical Supplies. Stroud didn¡¯t imagine himself actually purchasing much here. He mostly wanted to check this place out first so that he¡¯d have a baseline to compare against Mar Vincent¡¯s prices.

    The soft jingle of a bell rang above his head as he entered, and a myriad of earthy and pungent smells assaulted his nose and lungs. Stroud pulled up his scarf to catch his breath and began moving between the aisles of long tables to inspect the shop¡¯s wares.

    There weren¡¯t many live plants on display; instead, the rows were filled with small jars of seeds. Each vial had an index-sized piece of parchment lying in front of it that presented the herb¡¯s name and gave a few details about the growing and care processes.

    During his first few minutes of browsing, he completely ignored the petite, wizened woman who was closely following him around. Primarily because he was still struggling to open his mouth without immediately coughing or sneezing due to the haze of dust and pollen floating through the air.

    ¡°Have anything specific you¡¯re looking for, young man?¡± The old crone finally broke the silence as she pinched her fingers impatiently.

    Stroud paused his meandering and wiped at the corners of his watery eyes with a handkerchief. ¡°The young Miss of my family instructed me to purchase some spiritual herbs for her practice¡­¡± he replied through short breaths, ¡°If you know of any that are good for beginners¡­ I¡¯m open to suggestions.¡±

    Miss Harmont disregarded his coughing and spluttering, gesturing for him to follow her to a corner of the room. The woman moved with short and rapid steps ¡ª almost like she was shuffling her feet rather than walking ¡ª as she led him to a counter that radiated a faint but familiar energy.

    The table was low to the ground, like all the others, to account for the height of the proprietress, so Stroud had to bend over in order to read the descriptions of each herb. A quick scan actually yielded him a pleasant surprise. This little shop actually carried one of the herbs he needed for the Blood Steeping recipe.

    Par Concordia: Most commonly used as a reagent in antidotes. Possesses a soothing aspect that aids the body in counteracting strong or harmful energies.

    Stroud picked up the bottle, inspecting the seeds carefully while Miss Harmont¡¯s beady eyes gleamed with anticipation.

    ¡°You¡¯ve picked out a good one,¡± the woman croaked. ¡°Most of the medicinal efficacy of the Concordia is concentrated in its pistil, but I might add that the leaves of the plant are also great for brewing a calming tea¡­¡±

    Humming an acknowledgment, Stroud smiled and reached into his pouch of coins. ¡°Madam has been quite stressed lately, so I¡¯m glad to hear that. However, I didn¡¯t see any price listed¡­?¡±

    Miss Harmont spread her arms out wide and offered a helpless shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t get many customers looking for spiritual herbs. All the Magi and nobles reside in the inner city and make most of their purchases directly from the Sanctum.¡± She paused, twiddling her bony figures as she looked deeply at the bottle in his hands. ¡°Three gold Mors for the lot. Or¡­ I can sell them to you by the seed ¡ª for four silver each.¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± Stroud agreed immediately, pressing three gleaming gold coins into her palm as they shook hands. He had counted 10 seeds in total inside the bottle. And at a going exchange rate of 10 silver Mors per gold Mor, Harmont was offering what he believed to be a fair deal.

    Additionally, each round of Blood Steeping required three shares of Concordia. So even this number of seeds might not fulfill his needs in the long run. He was willing to splurge a bit considering he didn¡¯t know when he¡¯d find this kind of opportunity again.

    Suddenly feeling much better about his prospects, Stroud smiled warmly and bought a few bottles of mundane herb seeds, some of which were from Maeve¡¯s list.

    When all was said and done, he shook hands with the shopkeep again. ¡°It was a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Harmont. Should the Madam be in need of more herbs, I¡¯ll be sure to come back again.¡±

    The old woman stood by the door and propped it open for him, returning his grin. ¡°My, such a polite young man. You¡¯re always welcome to stop by, and please, pass along my good wishes to your house¡¯s Mistress.¡±

    Stroud placed a hand across his chest and performed a polite bow. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to. But¡­ before I depart, might I ask you to keep an eye out for these herbs for me?¡± He procured a copy of the list of ingredients he needed. It included a few extraneous herbs, along with everything required for Blood Steeping except the Vitum Herb and Beast blood ¡ª which he was wary of revealing his need of.

    ¡°Of course, of course¡­¡± Miss Harmont received the note and gave it a brief glance, not giving any indication of surprise or apprehension. ¡°How should I get in contact with you should I have any luck. To be honest, I only recognize a few of these herbs by name and haven¡¯t actually come into contact with them myself.¡±

    ¡°Well, I was referred here by Armin at the Courier¡¯s Office¡­¡± Stroud stepped forward and pressed his shoulder against the heavy door relieving the elderly lady of the burden. ¡°If you find anything ¡ª leave a message with him. I¡¯ll stop by the office from time to time to check in over the next couple of weeks.¡±

    Wrinkles of surprise emerged as Miss Harmont scrunched up her face. ¡°Armin is it¡­ Sure, that¡¯s no problem.¡±

    ¡°Perfect, then I¡¯ll be off. I wish you a pleasant rest of your day, Miss.¡± Miss Harmont waved distractedly in reply as Stroud tipped his cap and left the shop. Her eyes had a distant and forlorn look as she disappeared behind the door, accompanied by a muffled jingling of the bell.

    Stroud immediately returned to the streets, ready to seek out Mar Vincent¡¯s after carefully securing the bottles inside his coat. It was nearing mid-afternoon, and the walkways were even more crowded as many laborers sought out a meal or a quiet spot to rest. And it came as no surprise that the west-central market was one such popular location.

    There wasn¡¯t much shade, but there were plenty of benches and tables surrounding the fountain for people to lounge, and the quality of the restaurants was rather high. However, Stroud felt a prickling displeasure as he entered the area. He still clearly remembered the events of his last visit, and as such, gave a wide berth to the shop of the fat restaurateur.

    Young and old, rich and poor, all manner of people came and went as the market bustled and eventually began to clear up as the shadows cast by the sun stretched towards the east. And yet, despite his long time spent wandering, Stroud still hadn¡¯t found a single clue as to where Mar Vincent¡¯s shop exactly was. Tor had only mentioned that it was located in this general area.

    Somewhat frustrated, he decided to approach a particularly well-dressed and groomed man to ask for directions. And as luck would have it, the guy was a frequent customer of Vincent¡¯s and happily pointed the way for Stroud.

    The rumored Magus¡¯ shop was located just off the main square, tucked behind the store that sold the impressive gadgets Stroud liked to admire. It made him wonder if the two businesses were connected somehow, and of course, he made sure to sneak a few glances inside the storefront as he moved around it.

    At first, Stroud was doubtful of the veracity of the direction giver¡¯s words, because as he proceeded deeper into the alley beside the building, he had yet to find any signboards or markers that were indicative of any form of organization.

    A few doors lined the walls on either side of the alley, but they were all worn and cracked, a few even hanging off their hinges. Stroud loitered around briefly, scraping some of the dirt and grime from the bottom of his boots against the stone bricks as his mind raced through his options. He didn¡¯t want to just randomly start checking the entrances and was instead about ready to turn back and clarify the shop¡¯s exact location when a woman suddenly emerged from the door nearest him.

    They both startled upon seeing each other, and Stroud could only offer a wry smile as the dark-haired lady squared off from him warily.

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m¡­ looking for Mar Vincent¡¯s,¡± he explained, weakly. ¡°I was told it¡¯s around here.¡±

    The woman¡¯s posture noticeably eased, but she had already pulled the hood of her mantle forward to hide most of her face. She didn¡¯t speak and simply pointed him to whence she came.

    Stroud voiced his thanks and approached the door slowly. But as soon as his gaze left the other party, she swept past him briskly, carried out of the alley in a flash by her long legs.

    Finding the encounter altogether odd, Stroud shook his head and entered the store with even more caution in his heart. Mar Vincent did, in fact, seem to be hiding from something just based on the location he had chosen to set up shop. And while the man he¡¯d met out in the market seemed friendly enough, the latest encounter had set Stroud on edge.

    Initially, he had an inclination to just turn around and head home. After all, he¡¯d already been successful at Miss Harmont¡¯s. But¡­ if Mar Vincent was truly a Magus like Armin had said, then he should be much more familiar with spiritual herbs and their growing process. It was a chance to gain information, and potentially elixirs, that Stroud felt he couldn¡¯t pass up; because just getting his hands on the seeds wasn¡¯t enough.

    Gathering his courage, he pushed forward.

    Only the low groan of the door creaking open announced his entrance this time. And no one inside greeted his arrival. It was utterly quiet and the interior was rather dark. Stroud¡¯s eyes took a few moments to adjust as he stood like a statue in the entryway.

    When he could finally see well enough to observe the space, he nearly cursed out loud at the woman who had sent him inside.

    It was empty.

    There were no tables or shelves ¡ª or even a shopkeep. It was an altogether blank and sterile place. The only sign of life was the lack of dust covering the slats of wood lining the floor.

    ¡°Hello¡­?¡± Stroud called out.

    No answer.

    ¡°Hello!¡± he cried out again, much louder this time.

    ¡°...Yes, yes, what is it?¡± A faint voice sounded from the back of the room as a tattered curtain hanging over an empty doorway was pushed aside. The man who emerged soon after appeared far outside of Stroud¡¯s expectations.

    He was fairly young, and handsome, dressed neatly in grey linen pants and a long dark coat. Mar Vincent¡¯s dark eyes swirled with a hint of blazing orange as he and Stroud stared at one another, each with an ounce of surprise in their measured gaze.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± The alchemist asked, slicking back his long brown hair.

    ¡°M-My name is Stroud¡­ I¡¯m looking for a few spiritual herbs at the behest of my family¡¯s young Miss, and I was directed to your store after some asking around.¡±

    Mar Vincent¡¯s posture stiffened as he took a few steps forward. ¡°I see¡­¡± he muttered and held out a hand. After a few moments of awkward silence, he frowned and barked out, ¡°List, boy! Give me the list! Haven¡¯t you heard the rules¡­?¡±

    ¡°Ah, my apologies!¡± Stroud blurted out as he began fumbling around in his pockets. He was still in possession of the list he¡¯d received from Maeve, but unfortunately, he didn¡¯t have another copy of the one containing the herbs he needed for Blood Steeping after he¡¯d given it to Miss Harmont. Therefore, he could only smile awkwardly and ask for a writing utensil.

    ¡°Why are all my customers so ill-prepared these days¡­¡± the man grumbled, but he handed over a thin tool similar to a ball-point pen despite his complaints.

    With haste, Stroud narrowed down the remainder of Maeve¡¯s list and included his own. He also made sure to add a few random herbs into the mix that he¡¯d spotted at Miss Harmont¡¯s in an attempt to obscure some of his true purpose.

    There was no way for him to know if Mar Vincent knew the recipe for Blood Steeping, but in turn, Stroud also had no idea how valuable the other herbs he needed were. The fact that Miss Harmont had only heard of them in passing had already raised some suspicions.

    Stroud fidgeted uncomfortably as the man scanned the note now in his hands. It was also at this point that he could confirm that Mar Vincent was indeed a Magus. Some of his aura suddenly began leaking out as his eyes darted over the slip of paper.

    Hot and tempestuous gusts soon flitted about the room, accompanied by the faint smell of smoke.

    Stroud loosened the scarf around his neck, but he was unable to escape the stifling, fiery winds as the pair of blazing eyes across from him suddenly narrowed.

    ¡°Who sent you?¡±

    The question rang out like the toll of a heavy bell, clear and crisp, its deep reverberations echoing through the air. Both Stroud¡¯s mind and his heart froze in tandem.

    Not good. He wasn¡¯t given the chance to respond as the man stepped forward and the pressure surged.

    ¡°Was it the prince? I thought I made it very clear to both him and Lady Adelais: I will not be a participant in their struggle.¡±

    Trembling and drenched in sweat, Stroud fought to remain standing. ¡°N-Neither, Lord Magus!¡± he croaked out, his throat hoarse and constricted by the fumes.

    Mar Vincent flicked the note in his hand and it burnt to ashes in the blink of an eye. ¡°It must have been one of them... or there¡¯s no way you or your Miss would have knowledge or need of the ingredients on that list.¡±

    Gritting his teeth, Stroud sunk to his knees, no longer able to bear the pressure. He feared he would burst into flames just like that slip of parchment should he speak any further. His whole body felt brittle and combustible like a parched log of wood.

    But he didn¡¯t see any other way out than the truth. ¡°I¡¯ve signed a binding oath with Lady Adelais!¡±

    His head was lowered and his chest heaved up and down, but he was still alive, so Stroud continued: ¡°As part of our deal, she gave me a¡­ medicinal recipe. Since then, I¡¯ve been trying to hunt down the ingredients. I didn¡¯t intend to imply anything with my inquiry.¡±

    ¡°Well, kid¡­ You won¡¯t find what you¡¯re looking for here¡­¡±

    The torrent of scorching heat abated and Stroud mustered his strength to look up. An empty room greeted his eyes once more.

    ¡°Get out!¡±

    A harsh voice lashed across his exposed face like a whip, sending him tumbling backward. Stroud felt greatly aggrieved by the situation, but he had no other choice than to obey.

    Burying his frustrations deeper in his heart, he stumbled out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

 Chapter 16

    A loud and resounding bang followed Stroud into his room as the door slammed shut.

    Clenching and unclenching his fists, he stood solemnly in the darkness. Thin rivulets of blood seeped between his fingers, dripping onto the cold stone floor. His heart beat rapidly in agitation, but surprisingly, the cluster of thorns that was wrapped around it actually trembled and loosened its grip.

    It feared the dense pit of anger building inside the vital organ ¡ª but so too did Stroud.

    Dread and doubt were vices he much preferred to fury and hatred.

    Rage was an overwhelming emotion that would devour all other thoughts and feelings. And Stroud very clearly recognized that he couldn¡¯t afford to act rashly.

    He¡¯d tried being a bit clever, intending to conceal his aims from Mar Vincent, but the Magus had seen through his amateurish ploy with a single glance. Admittedly, it wasn¡¯t a whole-hearted attempt at deception ¡ª as Stroud didn¡¯t think there would be any severe consequences for simply seeking out a few spiritual herbs¡­ But he¡¯d underestimated the reach and severity of the conflict between Lady Adelais and Prince Ajax within the city.

    Clear lines were drawn between the two, and he already fell on one side. He was truly lucky that Mar Vincent was one of the few who remained rooted in the middle.

    Unfortunately, this realization also greatly hindered Stroud¡¯s plans to gain strength right under Lady Adelais¡¯ nose. With circumstances as they were, if he wanted to complete a round of Blood Steeping, he would likely have to acquire most of what he needed through any official channels the Headmistress already had in place.

    Releasing a deep sigh as the tension in his hands eased, Stroud decided not to seek out Miss Harmont or others like her any further. They were harmless people just trying to eke out a living like anyone else, and he didn¡¯t want to unnecessarily drag them into danger by involving himself with them.

    Still, there¡¯s always a way forward...

    Stroud took another step toward his desk, but as he did so, a dry crinkle sounded underfoot, interrupting his momentum. He hunched over and lifted the letter caught beneath his boot.

    Curious, but also apprehensive, Stroud carried it over to his desk, fumbling around to light a candle and take a look. A tiny corner of his mind held out hope that it wasn¡¯t what he thought it was...

    But alas, his worst fears were realized and his fingernails dug back into the wounds they¡¯d just left behind. Written in bold, messy script was a simple note:

    Orders from Headmistress Adelais

    Issued: Spring, Day 37 of the First Crossing

    Servant Stroud of the Marwood house is to report to room 205 in the upper halls at tomorrow¡¯s first light. Further instructions will be disseminated at the destination.

    Failure to check-in will result in punishment.

    The Adelais family crest was stamped below the message to verify its authenticity.

    Venom seeped into Stroud¡¯s eyes as he glared at the brilliant white wings that fanned out from behind a silver kite shield.

    It came sooner than he anticipated.

    In immediate need of a distraction, Stroud snuffed out the light and stormed off toward Maeve¡¯s room.

    ***

    ¡°...I just can¡¯t get it right, Stroud,¡± Maeve groaned. She furrowed her brows and wrinkled her nose as she stared with disgust at the poorly drawn spell sigil on the square slip of parchment.

    Before she had a chance to toss it into the waste pile to accompany her previous attempts, Stroud grabbed the page from her hands and looked over it carefully.

    ¡°How many times did you lift the quill on this attempt?¡± he asked while his eyes traced over the dark lines.

    Maeve squirmed in her seat. ¡°I think it was seven¡­ No, six this time!¡±

    Seeing her meek smile, Stroud could only swallow his retort. His count was at least eight lifts, but her pride and motivation were already fragile as it were. With care, he posed a question, ¡°And you said that a talisman similar to this will only achieve 30-35% of the spell¡¯s original efficiency?¡±

    ¡°Yea¡­ Well, I¡¯m only using normal ink now, but if I were to do it for real ¡ª then, that¡¯s correct.¡± Stroud hummed his acknowledgment, but seeing as he didn¡¯t speak, Maeve began spilling all her grievances: ¡°It¡¯s just not fair. Instructor Alen assigned every group a different sigil, but this Spark that I got stuck with is definitely the hardest¡­ And 50% efficiency is just impossible, anyway! I met with a few others in my lecture this afternoon, and even Evelyn ¡ª who¡¯s the smartest ¡ª only got up to 40%, she said¡­¡±

    Stroud placed down the mock talisman and turned his attention to Maeve. ¡°Oh? And which course is this for again?¡±

    ¡°Introduction to Inscriptions,¡± Maeve grumbled unhappily as she folded her arms. ¡°Instructor Alen just spends all his time appealing to the highest-ranking heirs, like Lord Ernhardt! His group got the Water Spout sigil, of course¡­ ¡±

    Chuckling to himself as he watched Maeve pouting, Stroud pulled a chair over to her desk and sat down. ¡°Let me give it a try. Celina has given me a few lessons in calligraphy, and I may be able to provide you with some advice after I experience it for myself.¡±

    Instantly, the girl brightened up. ¡°Really!¡± She practically shoved the stack of animal skins and the inkwell over to him.

    ¡°So¡­ the goal is just to draw the sigil with as few strokes as possible, correct?¡± Stroud asked as he readied himself. Spark was only a basic elemental cantrip, classified as a Tier 0 spell. It was composed of two runes  ¡ª lightning (conversion) and an expulsion (principle) ¡ª and both were fairly simple in design. After taking a few glances at the reference sheet Maeve was using, he¡¯d already memorized its entirety.

    Stroud had no intention of engraving a Tier 0 model into his mindscape, but learning more about foundational rune combinations like this was a first for him ¡ª and an eye-opener at that. It made him realize just how important a wide base of knowledge would be to his future development as he could already envision a myriad of uses for little talismans such as Spark, Water Spout, and how their runes fit into higher tier models.

    If I¡¯m successful, maybe I can convince Maeve to let me hang on to a few of these...If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Yea, yea!¡± Maeve affirmed, drawing Stroud out of his ruminations. ¡°It¡¯s a lot like engraving spells in our Spirit Locus ¡ª in the sense that you want lines to be as accurate and fluid as possible. Though, it becomes a lot harder to achieve that when using a brush and ink...¡± Her face puckered into another sour expression as she trailed off.

    ¡°Right.¡± Stroud nodded as he dipped the thin brush into the well.

    He mostly understood the point that Maeve was getting at. Engraving spells within the mindscape was a three-dimensional process. There was a depth to the markings, and you could more easily pick up where you left off. With ink, however, a disconnect would form every time the brush was lifted. And it was also more difficult to maintain the uniformity of the lines.

    Drawing a talisman required experience regarding the amount of ink required, a suitable starting point and path through the sigil, and most importantly ¡ª the application of a steady and continuous pressure with the brush throughout.

    Keeping all these things in mind, Stroud focused himself and began to draw.

    The first few attempts didn¡¯t even reach the stage of completion as he would realize halfway through that he¡¯d made an errant turn at one point or another. And while the talisman diagram did possess markings that indicated the most efficient path to take, Stroud didn¡¯t want to rely on rote memorization to complete the process. He had an inclination that feeling out a proper path with the brush would give him more insight into the design of runes, and allow him to more easily identify starting points ¡ª as well as focal points ¡ª on unmarked spell sigils.

    Additionally, as a result of his experience with engraving the Imbuement of Strength sigil, Stroud had discovered that he possessed an artistic flair and a poised hand that he¡¯d never fully realized until working within his Spirit Locus. Although, it was unknown whether this talent of his was lying dormant within the original incarnation of Stroud, or if it was something he¡¯d picked up during his time devouring souls in the Chasm.

    But in either case, it was a great boon to his current self as there was a lot more drawing involved in being a Magus than he could have ever anticipated...

    His hand hovered over another blank slip, and just like it had in his mindscape when he first began engraving, the gift manifested itself now. Tranquility engulfed Stroud as he immersed himself deeper into his task.

    Hazy memories unwittingly surfaced, and the flowing motion of his hand grew increasingly adept, seeming to mirror the lazy meandering of the brook in the Marwood¡¯s fiefdom. He traversed smoothly across the parchment, unbothered by the rough texture and gradient of the land which he treads across.

    Under Maeve¡¯s watchful gaze, everything began to proceed effortlessly after successfully completing his first mock talisman... Sheet after sheet piled up next to Stroud, but an uneasiness began to rise up from below his confidence the more he familiarized himself with the movements. The bubbling doubt continued to build into a boil until Stroud¡¯s stomach abruptly flopped over and the brush trembled as it lifted.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong¡­?¡± Maeve queried. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes flickered back and forth between the diagram and the blemished markings.

    ¡®That¡¯s odd¡­¡¯ Stroud thought, drawing his mouth into a thin line. He ignored Maeve¡¯s face ¡ª that had drawn so close to the page that she was practically sniffing it ¡ª as he sat back for a moment to contemplate.

    Despite his reservations about his own mental instability, more than anything... Stroud still trusted his gut above all else.

    By all means, his finished pieces looked like an almost exact replica of the original model. But try as he may, he couldn¡¯t shake that feeling that something was off. For a few moments, he tried to decipher the source of his uncertainty, but instincts were never so ready to openly reveal their answers; and therefore, Stroud could only resume his efforts and try to work it out through further trial and error.

    In short order, another fresh stack of mock talismans were piled up in front of him on the desk.

    ¡°Wow¡­ Stroud, that¡¯s amazing¡­¡± Maeve uttered breathlessly as the two of them took a break to bask in shared appreciation of the results. Excitement and eagerness glimmered in the depths of the girl¡¯s speckled irises. Ever since Maeve had begun her cultivation, their original brilliant emerald glaze had slowly taken on a golden hue. It now looked as if bright sunflowers were ever blooming in her gaze.

    ¡°Ah, thanks¡­¡± Stroud scratched his head, sheepishly. It was really a simple task for him, so it made the earnestness in her adoring smile almost difficult to bear.

    Ignorant of his embarrassment, Maeve bounced excitedly in her seat. ¡°How many lifts was that last one¡­ only two, right?¡±

    ¡°Yea.¡± Stroud agreed, frowning slightly. He glanced again at the mock talismans now shuffling through Maeve¡¯s hands. Although he still wasn¡¯t able to exactly pinpoint where he was erring while drawing the spell model, he did begin to gain an understanding of its core principles.

    The lines that composed Spark were jagged and acute in their angles; while the runes themselves appeared almost¡­ lively ¡ª like they were ready to jump off the page. Overall, it was very different from the powerful and deep-set strokes of the Imbuement of Strength Stroud was the most intimately familiar with.

    ¡®I haven¡¯t captured the essence of Spark,¡¯ he finally concluded after more reflection. But whether the fault lied in the diagram Maeve was supplied with or was an extension of his own artistic intuition ¡ª he couldn¡¯t determine.

    ¡°So¡­ think you can handle the real thing?¡± The hope laden in Maeve¡¯s voice wafted into Stroud¡¯s ears, prickling his guilt.

    He sighed. ¡°I could, but¡­ isn¡¯t it more appropriate for you to complete the task, Miss?¡± The life in the girl¡¯s eyes wilted, but he didn¡¯t relent. ¡°How will you complete the assignments tasked to you in the future if I help you out now. I may not always be around when you¡¯re in need of a talisman¡­¡±

    Stroud thought his warning would set Maeve straight, but unexpectedly, it seemed like he¡¯d given her the out she wanted.

    ¡°That¡¯s alright! You see¡­ this course is only temporary ¡ª part of the introductory lectures to help us pick out a supporting vocation to pursue. I¡¯ve already learned enough to know that Inscriptions aren¡¯t for me. I want to practice Alchemy instead!¡± Following Maeve¡¯s eyes, Stroud exhaled another long breath as he looked at the newly arranged planters in front of the windows and at the workstation.

    When he¡¯d arrived with the seeds earlier in the evening, she¡¯d immediately got to work planting them inside suitable soil and positioning them according to the levels of sunlight they¡¯d need when they sprouted. And after hearing more about the spells she planned to engrave in her mindscape, it was undeniable they were all well-suited for nurturing plants and spiritual herbs.

    Still, he couldn¡¯t let her off so easily. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then what use is there in me producing an excellent talisman for you? Wouldn¡¯t that just attract instructor Alen¡¯s attention? And what if he asks you to demonstrate in front of the apprentices?¡± There was a myriad of reasons why passing the work off to him would hurt Maeve in the long-run.

    Seeming to realize this as well, Maeve turned away and her voice became small, ¡°I may have made a bet with Sybil¡­ Also, it wouldn¡¯t be an issue if they learned that you completed the talisman. As nobles, our vassal¡¯s skills can be considered a part of our strength...¡±

    Yet another sigh escaped Stroud¡¯s lips. ¡°Fine, give it here... I can help you out this time, and with any talismans you¡¯d like for your personal use, but any official assignments you receive in the future will have to be completed through your own efforts.¡±

    Ignoring his stern glare, Maeve cheered and swapped out the regular inkwell for the one containing the special mixture of Spirit Beast blood and ink. ¡°Thank you, Stroud! And don¡¯t worry, there should be enough talisman ink for at least five attempts.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ Alright¡­¡± Stroud shook his head and relaxed his wrist as he steeled himself for the task.

    In the end, he chose not to try anything out of the ordinary with such a limited amount of materials. If he only had enough for five talismans, he would make sure five usable ones were produced.

    After all, Maeve only needed one for herself, and he didn¡¯t think she would mind if he pocketed the remainder¡­

    ***

    Pausing on the stairwell as he always did, Stroud inhaled a deep breath, gazing intently at the rays of sunlight scattering over the wall. They glanced across the rooftops and weaved through the rising smokestacks in a brilliant illusory dance.

    Separated by the window, their warmth evaded him. But as Stroud reached into his coat and felt the slight bulge in the lining of one of the inner pockets¡­ his chest swelled with reassurance all the same.

    The brambles clutching his heart loosened for the second time in as many days as he averted his eyes and strode into the second-floor corridor of the Sanctum¡¯s upper halls.

    However, this time, the thorns feared not the raging fires of anger. Stroud smiled faintly as his knuckles rapped against door 205.

    Hope had arrived when he¡¯d least expected it. And his grin broadened as the visage of Lady Adelais that was oppressing his mind was replaced by Celina¡¯s gentle and warm eyes.

    ¡®Continue on¡­ always¡­¡¯ her voice reminded him.

 Chapter 17

    ¡°Come in.¡± A voice sounded faintly from inside.

    Stroud slowly pushed open the heavy door. It swung inward smoothly on well-oiled hinges, but in his mind, his entry was announced by the most ear-piercing creaks and groans that only the old rotted doors in ancient castles long-abandoned could emit.

    Every time he ran through this scenario in his mind, Stroud couldn¡¯t help but imagine a dark and gloomy room bathed in eerie shadows cast by flickering candlelight. A black-robed Magus, hiding his face under a hood would speak to him with a distorted voice ¡ª issuing sinister orders...

    Of course, it was all a tremendous exaggeration woven in many iterations in the recesses of his imagination, but even still, Stroud couldn¡¯t help but brace himself for the worst as he entered.

    ¡°Welcome, young man. I hope this day finds you in good health?¡±

    Stroud took off his cap and smiled wryly as he looked through the room. ¡°...It certainly does, Sir.¡±

    Bright and airy, the quarters of the official Magi and instructors of the Sanctum were not all that different from the apprentice¡¯s rooms. Long vertical windows draped the posh furniture in patterned light, and the lingering smell of freshly cooked eggs drifted over from the kitchenette¡­

    ¡°Have a seat,¡± the man instructed, gesturing to the lonely chair across from him before taking a leisurely sip of his tea.

    A gaudy circular rug spanned most of the room, and it led Stroud over to the table.

    ¡°Finding it a bit cold in here?¡± A probing question rang out as he approached.

    Stroud startled, freezing for a moment before realization struck and his head swiveled back to look at the coat rack by the door. He subconsciously reached toward his pocket to grip the talismans.

    ¡°No, Sir¡­¡± he exhaled a deep breath. ¡°Please, excuse my manners. My mind tends to function slowly in the morning.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all right. I¡¯m quite used to it after having spent the past week lecturing apprentices. And I hardly think those talismans you¡¯re carrying are capable of more than singing my hair, anyway¡­¡± The man¡¯s amused smile and raised eyebrows eased Stroud¡¯s nerves, but his cheeks still flushed red as he entered the exposed side room.

    This was one area where this Magus¡¯ accommodations diverged from the norm. He had converted the room that typically housed the workstation into a more formal dining space. A waist-high bar rested against the back wall, displaying neatly arranged sets of colorful dinnerware. Intricate light blue and gold floral designs ordained the stark white plates and bowls, and also found their way onto the teacup held carefully in the middle-aged man¡¯s grasp.

    He seemed to notice Stroud appreciating the items and a pleased glint flickered in the depths of his round brown eyes. ¡°I make them myself¡­ In case you were wondering.¡±

    ¡°Well, they¡¯re beautiful, Sir. I¡¯ve yet to see anything quite like them¡­¡± Stroud praised briefly as he finally slid off his coat and rested it on the back of his proffered seat.

    ¡°Just a hobby of mine I picked up while traveling the Empire in my youth. Everyone in the north is always so concerned about staying warm year-round that they tend to forgo investing their leisure time into the arts or any hobbies other than drinking...¡± The man brushed off the praise with a boastful inclination of his chin. He then procured a wrinkled letter from inside his robe and placed it down on the table as Stroud settled in.

    Silence followed.

    The particles of dust illuminated in the air meandered lazily through the void between them, entirely unconcerned by the subtle tension gathering in the room.

    Stroud was itching to get the real conversation started and complete their business, but as he was uncertain how to conduct himself in this situation, he could only wait for the other party to take the lead. He averted his gaze, only catching the man¡¯s movements out of the corner of his eye.

    ¡°So¡­ you must be Stroud, correct?¡± Leaning back, the dark-haired Magus folded one leg over the other and clasped his hands in his lap. His facial features weren¡¯t particularly sharp, but the edge contained in his glare might make one think otherwise.

    He left quite an impression... But Stroud detected nary a trace of aura leaking around his lean frame.

    His control of his Nura must be extremely precise. Stroud¡¯s brow twitched into a subtle frown as he nodded in response to the question.

    ¡°Good. So young, yet you already possess a discerning eye. And more importantly ¡ª you¡¯re right on time¡­¡± Another sip of tea halted the man¡¯s compliments. ¡°I especially like working with those who are punctual. It¡¯s an important character trait that I think is often undervalued. Anyway¡­¡± he released a sigh, ¡°You may call me Magus Dowd or Instructor Renfry, and I¡¯ll be your official liaison with Headmistress Adelais from now on. Do not make any attempts to directly contact her in the future. All inquiries must be made through me. Understood?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Magus Dowd.¡± Stroud straightened his back.

    Satisfied, Dowd dipped his head to glance at the pocket watch dangling from his vest. ¡°All right, let¡¯s keep this short; I¡¯ve got a lesson to lead soon.¡± The instructor recovered his more laid back posture and slid the letter in front of him across the table. ¡°These are your current mission details.¡±

    He continued speaking as Stroud took a quick glance over the parchment, ¡°I don''t write the orders ¡ª I¡¯m only responsible for disseminating them¡­ So save your questions for whomever you meet up with later.¡±

    Their eyes clashed as Stroud nodded again. ¡°Got it. But there is one thing I¡¯d like to ask while I have your ear, if I may¡­¡±

    ¡°Go ahead, young man.¡±

    Stroud leaned forward. ¡°Who should I look for to receive my payments or rewards?¡±

    Dowd coughed lightly a few times, nearly choking on the tea that had just made its way into his throat. ¡°Of course¡­ that¡¯s the heart of the matter, isn¡¯t it?¡± the man finished under his breath, taking a moment to collect himself. ¡°The agents out in the city will report the results of any missions to their superiors, and this information will eventually land directly in the hands of the Headmistress. Then, the next time you come to receive a mission, I¡¯ll be able to tell you how many merits you earned. You¡¯ll also be able to submit your requests for materials through me or directly convert your merits into Mors.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Stroud considered the answer. It didn¡¯t seem like the most efficient or reliable system, but who was he to judge. ¡°And how will I know when we are to meet? Same as this time?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Dowd confirmed. ¡°Any notices will be delivered directly to your quarters. So if anyone attempts to contact you through other methods ¡ª ignore them, and report the details to me.¡±

    ¡°All right.¡± Stroud returned his gaze to the letter while Dowd finished his drink and began collecting the other dishes left out from his breakfast.

    The Magus gave Stroud another few minutes to look over the specifics while he cleaned up. Then, after he was finished, he came back over to the table and reached out an upturned palm. ¡°Do you have it all memorized?¡±

    Stroud answered by returning the note and getting up from his seat. He donned his jacket and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes while watching the paper erode rapidly in Dowd¡¯s hand.

    In less than a breath, it was gone; not even leaving any ashes behind, unlike Mar Vincent¡¯s trick.

    ¡°It was a pleasure meeting you, Stroud,¡± Dowd remarked casually while leading him over to the door. ¡°I must also mention before you go... Should anyone ask about our relationship, just inform them that I hired you to clean and maintain my quarters. It¡¯s not an uncommon occurrence in the Sanctum.¡±

    ¡°Very well. And you¡¯re too kind, Instructor Renfry. It was my honor.¡± Stroud smiled gratefully as the door was held open for him. He fit his wool cap snuggly back on his head and bid the man farewell. ¡°Best of luck with your lecture, Sir.¡±

    Dowd returned the gesture, his lips briefly curling upward. ¡°May the heavens watch over you, young man. A word of advice¡­ make sure to prioritize secrecy and your safety above all else. The rewards Lady Adelais offers us are generous, but they¡¯re not won lightly¡­¡±

    Standing back out in the corridor, a gust of cool air nipped at Stroud¡¯s ears. Dowd¡¯s warning was soon swept away along with it. His stomach fluttered ¡ª sinking downward as it was suddenly burdened by unease.

    ¡°Maybe I should skip grabbing breakfast along the way¡­¡± he muttered under his breath.

    ***

    ¡°Fuck! What the hell is all this!¡± Curses flew unbidden from Stroud¡¯s mouth.

    It was stifling. Horribly and wholly stifling...

    Thick, lingering smoke and ash clogged the air, forcing him to pull up his scarf.

    ¡°How am I ever gonna find this place?¡± Stroud grumbled into the cloth, squinting his watery eyes as his head swiveled back and forth.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    There weren¡¯t many other people in this isolated corner of the outer city, and for good reason. It was almost harder to see than it was to breathe, somehow overshadowing even Miss Harmont¡¯s stuffy shop. And as if that wasn¡¯t enough to disorient passersby, the sharp clashing of hammer on steel also rang out from every direction.

    The reverberant noises traveled in overlapping waves through the billowing dark grey smoke that glittered with hints of silver as it poured out from the numerous chimneys of the surrounding workshops. But instead of rising through the air to dissipate, the exhaust sunk slowly, as if weighed down by the fairy-like dust.

    ¡°Damn¡ª!¡± Stroud cursed again as he saw a dark silhouette pass through the grounded cloud in front of him. ¡°Excuse me, Sir!¡± he called out loudly as he chased after the tall figure. The dash through the smoke stung at all his senses, but he managed to grab a hold of his target before the shadow disappeared.

    Only when within arms-reach, did he finally get a decent look at the man. Wearing a full face mask ¡ª that included goggles made from some kind of shell or exoskeleton ¡ª the worker cut a bizarre figure as he turned around. Heavy leather and wool clothing covered him head to toe, and the entire ensemble was doused in burn marks and smears of soot.

    Stroud lowered his scarf, coughing heavily between his words. ¡°...D-Do you know¡­ where I could find¡­ N-Norfin¡¯s Smithy¡­?¡±

    Fortunately, he wasn¡¯t ignored, and the man gestured for him to follow. They continued along the worker¡¯s original trajectory until they arrived near the edge of the dense mass of roiling smog. Here, the air was significantly cleaner, but there was still a faint layer of the platinum dust sprinkled around everywhere, like a fresh powdering of snow.

    ¡°...Norfin¡¯s is ¡®at one.¡± The guide pointed to a large building on their right that looked more like a warehouse than a smithy.

    Change entered the man¡¯s gloved hand as Stroud thanked him and then watched his figure fade back into the fog. After waiting for another few moments to ensure that the coast was clear, he trudged around briefly in front of the workshop before slipping around toward the back when a gust of wind pushed some of the heavier mist in his direction.

    Amidst some piles of trash and debris, Stroud found the old, rotted back door. He knocked solidly three times, pausing for a breath in between each one. Then, without waiting for a reply, he entered, receiving the lovely grating creak of the door¡¯s rusted bolts.

    Dark and somber, a once lively workshop lay buried in ash. It carried such intense feelings of destitution that Stroud couldn¡¯t help but lower his scarf again and sigh with regret.

    The peculiar dust immediately punished his lungs for that mistake.

    ¡°Ha¡ª! Welcome to The Bellows, kid!¡± Deep, hoarse laughter echoed through the vaulted space to join Stroud¡¯s renewed coughing and wheezing. ¡°You must be another novice?¡±

    Tensing his muscles as he kept close to the door, Stroud spluttered a reply, ¡°I-I suppose so¡­ Are you Hrer?¡±

    ¡°Right you are.¡± A dark figure hopped down from a short pile of crates in the farthest most corner. The man was much thinner and shorter than Stroud had imagined after hearing his gruff voice, but the menacing glint of the thin object twirling between his fingers made him appear plenty dangerous, regardless.

    ¡°Take a seat wherever you can find one,¡± Hrer continued, his tone languid. ¡°I am supposed to give you some kind of briefing¡­¡±

    Much like the mess outside, an abundance of scrap material and other junk littered the room. Stroud¡¯s brow wrinkled with faintly concealed displeasure as he found his way over to a mostly intact box where he perched himself. His left hand rested on the lapel of his coat, ready to reach into his pockets at a moment¡¯s notice.

    Hrer chuckled again. ¡°Loosen up, would ya? We¡¯re all on the same side here¡­¡±

    The hint of sarcasm in the man¡¯s voice did little to soothe the rapid beating of Stroud¡¯s heart, but he did somewhat slacken his posture. That is¡­ until Hrer took another step forward and arrived in the midst of the sole beam of light shining into the room from a window high up on the rear wall.

    ¡°Y-You¡­?¡± Full of disbelief, Stroud¡¯s eyes locked onto the thin but distinct scar crossing the man¡¯s cheek. Understanding crushed his already delicate composure as he exhaled a warm, breathy sigh. In a single moment, he was left feeling utterly defeated. ¡°You¡¯re that hunter from Ebbinside¡­¡±

    Hrer¡¯s grin was devilish as he moved closer. ¡°And you¡¯re more naive than I thought, kid. I had you pegged as a clever one that day.¡±

    ¡°You overpraise me.¡± Stroud laughed dryly. ¡°Though, looking back¡­ it did all seem a little too coincidental.¡±

    ¡°Of course you can say that now.¡± Hrer flipped his throwing knife into the air, catching it deftly with his other hand. ¡°But greed does have a way of enrapturing the mind, so I can¡¯t blame you too much. Personally, I¡¯ve always found that a few gold coins can work just as well as a cold blade at the throat.¡±

    Shaking his head, Stroud pushed himself out of his stupor. ¡°But how¡¯d you know Maeve and I would be visiting Ebbinside that day?¡±

    ¡°Stroke of fortune, really.¡± Hrer shrugged. ¡°Saw you two leaving the estate on our flight over and made some quick adjustments to the plan. Rest wasn¡¯t too hard. Those hunters don¡¯t like you lot very much. The chief seemed almost eager to help us out with our little performance,¡± he finished with a chortle.

    Sharp, yellowing teeth flashed once more through the room¡¯s grey and lifeless haze. ¡°Don¡¯t get too hung up on it, kid. The boss doesn¡¯t like leaving things to chance¡­ or choice. That Spirit Core would have found its way into the Baron¡¯s hands one way or another. It just looked better packaged as a surprise gift than a bribe.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ I guess our working together now isn¡¯t much of a coincidence either?¡± Anger laced Stroud¡¯s voice as his mind returned to the current moment. It felt almost twisted in a way. Like Lady Adelais was flaunting her victory over the Marwoods to him.

    ¡°Wrong again,¡± Hrer retorted bluntly, eliciting another frown from Stroud. ¡°More like¡­ it was inevitable once you entered into the Headmistress¡¯s service. You see, I¡¯m the man in charge of training all the novices. Not like the boss was trying to send you a message specifically.¡±

    Stroud didn¡¯t wholly buy that excuse, but it was pointless to argue in this situation. ¡°All right¡­ So what¡¯s next?¡± He folded his arms across his chest, ready to move on. ¡°My orders only told me to meet up with you.¡±

    ¡°Nothing too difficult. I¡¯ll teach you some tricks, then we¡¯ll head out to pick on a few thugs. I like to keep things simple for first-timers.¡± Upon seeing the confusion still evident in Stroud¡¯s eyes, Hrer illuminated his primary directive. ¡°Our main goal, down and around The Bellows, is to keep an eye on the movements of the Tundra Walker gangs.¡±

    ¡°Tundra Walkers¡­¡± Stroud uttered. ¡°My impression was that I¡¯d be spying on the prince¡¯s men. And in the Sanctum at that.¡±

    Hrer rolled his eyes and the blade around his knuckles. ¡°The Tundra Walkers are the prince¡¯s men. The frontline of the battle is down here in the smog and grime ¡ª the outer city¡¯s underbelly.¡±

    Stroud scoffed. ¡°The Tundra Walkers despise the kingdom¡¯s nobility. You don¡¯t have to stay in Frostrane long to hear their mutterings. I really doubt they¡¯d willingly work with anyone in Redenia, let alone a prince.¡± It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t believe Hrer this time, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity to learn more about the conflict. Thinking further, he was also glad he hadn¡¯t immediately gone to seek out those hunters that Armin had recommended...

    ¡°True. But they especially hate the Adelais family. Plus¡­¡± Hrer shrugged casually, ¡°Prince Ajax is a bastard child ¡ª ostracized in Redenia¡¯s courts ¡ª so he wins some sympathy from them. And you can be certain that the conditions he offered are generous... Like I just said. Greed trumps a lot of other sentiments.¡±

    ¡°All right¡­ then why has the Headmistress allowed them to remain in the city?¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re asking the right questions¡­ The Walkers have been entrenched in Frostrane and the surrounding mountains of the reaches long before the first Warden reclaimed these lands. They were originally ousted, but they''re persistent, if nothing else... constantly worming their way back inside the gates. And they have many hidden supporters in the area, so the purge would have to be swift and thorough¡ª¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s where we come in,¡± Stroud interrupted, nodding slowly. ¡°We need to identify all their allies.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Hrer repeatedly tossed the knife high into the air, reaching closer and closer to the ceiling with each throw. ¡°Maybe you do have more wits about you than the average dramoth¡­¡±

    Ignoring his quip, confidence swelled within Stroud, burning through some of the cold fear clogging his veins. He felt much more assured now that he had a better idea of what he would actually be involved in. ¡°So, where do we begin.¡±

    In one smooth motion, Hrer caught the blade and sheathed it at his waist. ¡°Well, first¡­¡± he adopted a stern pose, folding his arms across his chest, ¡°...You need to learn two crucial techniques. Perception Warding & Probing. Our battles are generally won from a distance, and with our mind rather than our fist.¡±

    Before Stroud could get a word in, Hrer continued, ¡°You¡¯ve already got the hardest part completed ¡ª clearing the first layer of your mindscape ¡ª but right now, you¡¯re no different than an open book. I¡¯ve inspected your crippled Sea five times already since you entered... Mastering these techniques will help you seal yourself off from other¡¯s senses as well as slip past their defenses unawares.¡±

    ¡°Great. Well, I¡¯m ready to learn.¡± Relief and anticipation seeped further into Stroud as he carefully inhaled another breath and stood up. In front of Magi like Dowd and Lady Adelais, he always felt so exposed. Naked under their eyes. If this could help him out, even if only a little, it was already well worthwhile to learn.

    These were exactly the kind of opportunities he hoped to gain in the service of the Headmistress. Though Stroud knew they would be few and they would not always come easily like this.

    Dowd¡¯s warning slipped into his mind before leaping away just as quickly. He already understood that the first of his battles in the gladiator pits was fast approaching. His resolve exited the gate and trudged toward the center of the arena with weighty steps. He would win. He had to. Even if his hands were to be dyed the same bloody red as the sand...

    Unbothered by his fiery gaze, Hrer indicated for Stroud to close his eyes and commenced the lesson in a low, gravelly tone: ¡°Start by letting your spiritual perception leak slowly out of your mindscape. I can tell you¡¯re already fairly proficient in wielding it, so none of this should be too difficult...¡±

    Without missing a beat, Stroud allowed his consciousness to expand outward. He sifted through the dust and murky air as he waited for the next step.

    ¡°....Now, reign it back in, then release it again. Slowly,¡± Hrer drawled. The man¡¯s own perception enveloped Stroud as his voice lingered in a soft, mesmerizing echo. ¡°As it seeps out of your pores, feel your perception brush up against mine. When they make contact ¡ª stop ¡ª and maintain your perception just outside your skin.¡±

    Like a human-shaped bubble, Hrer¡¯s spiritual perception coated Stroud. He pushed up against it with his mind, but he was unable to escape. His heartbeat spurred in an erratic jolt as a faint feeling of claustrophobia set.

    ¡°Don¡¯t panic,¡± Hrer assured quickly. ¡°This is where it gets tricky, but it¡¯s all smooth sailing after this point. When our perception leaves our body, it¡¯s our natural instinct to have it see. Protect us. Warn us. But we mustn¡¯t let it. Because in truth, this leaves us defenseless.¡±

    While settling his heaving chest, Stroud¡¯s perception eventually settled around his body like a thin film of oil, molded by Hrer¡¯s will.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let this feeling escape!¡± the man suddenly barked.

    Stroud reacted quickly, ignoring his discomfort as he focused wholeheartedly on locking his spiritual perception in place.

    ¡°Good, good. Now keep a steady hold of it while I distance myself¡­¡±

    Instinct battled fiercely with intention as Stroud ground his teeth. His consciousness fought desperately to chase after Hrer¡¯s perception. The thin layer boiled like his skin was burning, and after a few moments, the strain became difficult to bear.

    Stroud gasped as his perception scattered before it followed a deep breath of toxic air right back into his body through his lungs. He coughed violently while Hrer cackled with hardly suppressed mirth.

    ¡°Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. Perception Warding is considered the more difficult of the two. But once you get the hang of it ¡ª conquering those impulses ¡ª it becomes easy to maintain indefinitely. Now, get ready. We go again.¡±

    Stroud protested with a strained groan.

    Hrer simply shrugged it off. ¡°Toughen up. We¡¯ve got limited time together, and this isn¡¯t something you can practice easily on your own, at least initially.¡±

    A steel-like perception collapsed around Stroud as Hrer¡¯s words faded. He still hadn¡¯t even vaguely recovered, but as the will pressed in on him, he straightened up and forced out his own¡­

 Chapter 18

    ¡°...Those two?¡±

    ¡°Correct. Now, avert your eyes.¡± Hrer gently pushed Stroud¡¯s head to the side. ¡°Most Walkers are hunters by trade, so they develop a pretty impressive ability to sense danger or that they¡¯re being watched. They¡¯re much more in tune with the nature of both predators and prey. The city only alters the terrain, but the dynamic of the hunt remains the same.¡±

    ¡°I got it¡­¡± Stroud replied quietly, leaning more casually against the balcony¡¯s railing. ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡±

    Hrer ripped a strip of cloth from a shirt on the clothesline hanging behind them and used it to tie his long hair back in a tight ponytail. ¡°Probe them out. I want you to tell me who you think is the more dangerous of the two.¡±

    ¡°And if I get caught?¡±

    ¡°We leave.¡± Hrer shrugged. ¡°They won¡¯t seek us out for a confrontation, but neither will we get anything accomplished for the day. That means no merits.¡±

    Stroud inhaled a deep breath and shot another glance at the rough-looking men currently shaking down an old shopkeep further up the street. Resigned, he released a strand of mental energy.

    He had to work quickly while they were in sight, so the shaping of his spiritual perception was a little rough, but he managed to thin and stretch it out, capping it off at a sharp point like a sewing needle attached to a length of yarn.

    After receiving a nod of approval from Hrer, he mentally reared back and heaved the thread of will down the narrow lane as if he was casting out a fishing line.

    Fortunately, there weren¡¯t many pedestrians around as they¡¯d mostly been scared off by the thugs, so even though Stroud¡¯s control over the mental energy was poor at such a long distance, he made it successfully into the vicinity of the two men without accidentally latching onto someone else.

    ¡°Good work,¡± Hrer commended. ¡°Neither of them have spiritual wards up, so the rest should be easy.¡±

    Stroud grumbled internally. It would¡¯ve been even easier if they didn¡¯t position themselves so far away.

    During their earlier practice session, he¡¯d gotten a hang Spiritual Probing almost immediately. Given, it wasn¡¯t any sort of complicated technique, but if he hadn''t been told its purpose and how to achieve it, it was something he may never have stumbled on himself. The method essentially just involved thinning out a portion of spiritual perception to the utmost, so that when you used it to prick someone, it wouldn¡¯t feel any different than a tiny pinch or a bug bite, and may go ignored altogether.

    Whereas, in the case that a target didn¡¯t even have any defenses up, piercing into their Sea of Nura to inspect it was almost laughably easy ¡ª at least, according to Hrer. And in this case, the scarred man¡¯s words proved to be true.

    As the needle of perception crept within striking distance of the Tundra Walker gang members, it suddenly lunged forward like a snake, full of subtle and venomous aggression as it pierced into the gut of the left-most man before departing just as swiftly.

    Solely based on appearances, he would¡¯ve been the one Stroud pegged as the most threatening. A tall and broad baldy with thick muscles and dark eyes that constantly darted around with a trace of wariness.

    But the presence of magic in this world made many things unpredictable. A truth that Stroud was made aware of yet again on this occasion.

    When he moved on, the gangly, short-haired man on the right¡¯s Sea of Nura revealed significantly more potent fluctuations of energy as Stroud slipped past his defenses.

    Retracting his spiritual perception, the tension in Stroud¡¯s brow eased, but in the same moment, his stomach sunk. ¡°The thin man should be more dangerous. Based on my experience¡­ he¡¯s almost reached the level of a Magus.¡±

    ¡°Aye¡­¡± Hrer sighed dramatically, arching his back as he gazed toward the sun. ¡°The tragic fate of many. So close to reaching the lofty status of Magus, and yet¡­ due to their poor aptitude ¡ª they¡¯re designated to the role of a mere thug. Destined to never reach those heights.¡± There was a hint of self-deprecation in his words that Stroud didn¡¯t miss.

    ¡°Now what? Do we just keep following them from a distance?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± Not bothering to explain himself further, Hrer ducked back into the abandoned, rotting building they¡¯d invaded while looking for their targets and made his way down the stairs.

    Stroud followed him back onto the street, resisting the temptation to pinch his nose as the stench of festering waste assaulted him with greater force. The smells pervading the outer city were never pleasant anywhere you went, but somehow, in the slums south of The Bellows, it was magnified by many degrees.

    ¡°Hold up.¡± Hrer grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into the shade before they proceeded after the Walkers.

    A generous helping of dirt and soot was then smeared all over Stroud¡¯s face, neck, and even his clothes in the ensuing moment. Hrer handled him roughly like he was a busy mother applying sunscreen to their child before letting them run off to play.

    ¡°Consider this your first real test,¡± the man continued as he held Stroud at arms-length to inspect him. ¡°You¡¯re going to take the lead.¡± A pointed look cut off any protest. ¡°Your job is simply to take note of where they stop and who they speak with. Consider any extra information you manage to glean as a bonus.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to take care of tasks like this on your own in the future. Plus¡­¡± Hrer gave his best attempt at what Stroud could only assume was a dashing smile. ¡°Someone as handsome and recognizable as me has much less freedom to stroll about as I please in Frostrane. There¡¯s a reason I have to spend most of my time hiding around The Bellows¡­ Take this with you as well. Just in case.¡±

    Hrer pressed a small dagger into his palm before he departed, diving into the deep shadows that stood in stark opposition to the tall and densely packed white buildings. The man was wearing dark leathers, so Stroud was only able to follow his movements for a few short seconds before he seemed to blur and fade from sight.

    Left standing alone on the ramshackle, tiled street, Stroud slouched dejectedly. Though not as an open display of his emotions, but rather, to adapt to the caricature he¡¯d been so abruptly disposed. A dirty, downtrodden vagrant of the slums.

    Hunchbacked and half-limping, Stroud dragged himself up the road toward where they¡¯d last spotted the two Walkers...

    A few breaths later, a muted sigh of relief escaped his lips. They were still there, engaged in their heated argument with the vendor.

    Stroud cowered and stumbled into an alley like a drunkard when he entered into their range of vision. Back pressed against a partially crumbling wall, he dared not look. Instead, he strained his ears, listening carefully to the undulating pitch of their voices.

    ¡°...God¡¯s sake, Ralf! Was the first time Trelti broke your hand not enough!¡±

    ¡°Course it was, you idiot! But it took me near the whole winter to recover... And if I didn''t have the money then, what makes you think I¡¯ll suddenly have it now!¡± Rough, heavy breathing followed the shopkeeper''s indignant cry.

    ¡°Look, old man¡­ The rules have always been simple. You cooperate with us and pay the fee for doing business on our turf ¡ª or we have fellows like Trelti take the fee anyway and leave you with a gift. It¡¯s not hard to figure out which of the two is less painful.¡±

    ¡°Gah¡ª! Curse you! Curse you two godsdamned disgraces to our ancestors! May you forever burn in the flames of purgatory alongside The Deseras''¡ª!¡±

    A shiver crawled up Stroud¡¯s spine as he heard the skinny thug who had been speaking with Ralf issue a cumbersome sigh. The sigh was shortly followed by a loud, sickening crunch and an anguished cry.

    ¡°...Have the money ready next time, Ralf. What we¡¯ve taken today isn¡¯t enough. The boss has less and less patience for any holdouts, and we¡¯d rather not have to ask your son washing dishes over at Margo¡¯s to make up the difference.¡±

    ¡°You better leave Sid out of this! I swear if you two lay a hand on him¡ª!¡± The man was cut off by the crisp sound of palm striking flesh.

    ¡°Enough, Ralf! You better learn how to hold your tongue or next time we¡¯ll be taking it¡­ C¡¯mon Trelti, we¡¯ve wasted enough time here¡­¡±

    Realizing the two were about to take their leave, Stroud peeked around the corner and sent out another sliver of his spiritual perception. He swiftly latched it onto the burly man and ducked away again.

    Seeing as they hadn¡¯t noticed his probing the first time, he surmised that moving through the alleys running parallel to the road the safest way to trail the men unnoticed. He could maintain a good distance from them by following this thread, then sneak try and closer whenever they came to a halt.

    Sure, he¡¯d been given a disguise, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to make thorough use of it.

    ''Out of sight, out of mind,'' he murmured. And so it began...

    Shit and indiscernible muck caked Stroud¡¯s boots in no time at all as he ran lightly through the tight passageways. His two targets had been moving through their rounds at a fairly decent pace. They mostly stuck to the main thoroughfares through the slums, whereas his chosen method of tracking caused more than just the occasional detour around certain clusters of buildings when he came upon dead ends or diverging offshoots. He discovered early on that he still knew too little about the area; the network of alleys and paths was more complex than anticipated.

    And ultimately, this roundabout method of chasing them around quickly left him exhausted ¡ª even though he was afforded relatively frequent breaks whenever the two men stopped for one of their shakedowns.

    On and on they continued for the better part of the late afternoon hours, winding in a circuitous loop through the slums¡­

    ***

    ¡°...Alright then, Druum. Originally, you were short this time, but with this... we can let it go. Consider yourself fortunate that your wife is so capable as an herb-gatherer. Our boss will like these Srodgess leaves. Make sure to save any you find in the future for us.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Stroud crouched listlessly in the shadows nearby; it was just another standard shakedown, and the burden on his knees and his concentration had grown increasingly heavy due to the constant repetition.

    However, a sudden jolt ran through his mind when the Srodgess was mentioned. His ears perked up eagerly. To think these goons would get their hands on Srodgess¡­ Fuck!

    Not only was Srodgess probably worth a few gold, but it was also another one of the main ingredients required for Blood Steeping. Stroud¡¯s eyes blazed with a hint of desire, but only for a moment. For now, he could only mark this particular vendor and location as important in his mental notes.

    After restraining his breathing and surging emotions alike, Stroud straightened himself up to prepare to leave.

    ¡°Of course, of course, Eira¡­¡± the current victim hurriedly replied. ¡°My Rundr knows all the best spots in the Crosspar Mountains. I¡¯ll make sure to give her a reminder when she returns.¡±

    ¡°Good. See that you do.¡±

    The steady plodding of two sets of footsteps faded around the corner as the string of spiritual perception extending from Stroud slowly stretched taut. ¡°Gods¡­ how much longer will this continue¡­¡± he muttered to himself as he spurred into motion.

    The subtle chill in the air had grown significantly more pronounced, seeping into his clothes damp with sweat as the sunlight drained from the clear blue sky, leaving behind vibrant trails of orange and pink.

    Hrer hadn¡¯t given him any indication of a timeframe, nor had he made another appearance since they separated, so Stroud could only continue on.

    His only glimmer of hope that this very... very long day was finally nearing its end ¡ª was a few familiar landmarks. It appeared that Eira and Trelti were nearly back to the original location where he''d begun the pursuit.

    ¡°Whad¡¯ya think, Eira? We got enough?¡± Trelti¡¯s deep voice carried across the empty street and into Stroud¡¯s waiting ears.

    ¡°...Should be,¡± Eira mused, slowly. ¡°Though, we¡¯ve been getting more and more holdouts. If it wasn¡¯t for that coward, Druum, handing over the Srodgess at the end¡­ we might ¡®av had to creep near the Verum to make up the difference.¡±

    Trelti rumbled some form of non-committal agreement that Stroud couldn¡¯t make out, but it was Eira¡¯s follow-up that subsequently set him alight with both interest and joy.

    ¡°Let¡¯s head back and dump it then¡­¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡±

    Finally! This is it! Stroud was elated. This was his chance to make a contribution.

    With his heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears, Stroud waited for a short time, then crept after them. Shivers of anticipation and nervousness swept through his body like little snakes of lightning; the adrenaline brought everything into a crystal-clear focus in his unblinking eyes.

    Opportunity was abound, but he also knew that this was also when his mission had become the most dangerous.

    No longer was he alone in the darkness as the two Walkers now also traveled off the beaten path. And it was because of this that Stroud decided to maintain an even greater distance, paying close attention to the tautness of the strand of mental energy attached to Trelti.

    Back and forth the spiritual probe went. A solo game of tug o¡¯ war commenced in a state of fragile balance. Because just as he was, the two thugs were much more alert and cautious than they¡¯d been out on the street.

    There were occasions when the Walkers suddenly doubled back or waited for brief periods around a corner... Stroud thought he''d quickly grow accustomed to it after a while, but every time that length of spiritual perception slackened ¡ª his heart would leap into his throat.

    However, what eventually grew even more concerning was that the game still had yet to come to an end.

    At first, he¡¯d assumed that Eira and Trelti were just walking through their standard procedure ¡ª employing tricks they were taught to throw off any pursuers and disguise the location of their safehouse.

    But now, real darkness was beginning to settle, and Stroud could see the faint outline of the twin moons emerging. They were set wide apart in the sky at this point in the season, but a very similar glint of mischievousness was still present in their burgeoning light as they looked down upon the world.

    Should I turn back? Also, where the fuck is Hrer? He had confidence that the man was lingering somewhere nearby¡­ And test¡¯s aside, this seemed like an appropriate time to reconvene. Something was evidently not right.

    Another gust of evening air blew by and Stroud shivered.

    He was cold, and his fear was using that chill to creep it¡¯s way back inside. But at the same time, an unwillingness he hadn¡¯t felt in a long while burned deep in his chest. The two opposing feelings battled for control.

    ...Isn''t this just what it takes? Stroud was frustrated. Not with the situation, but himself. After hearing from Hrer I knew what this job would entail! Dowd isn''t wrong to suggest I prioritize safety, but my circumstances are very different from others.

    Ten years at best... I have to overcome the deficiencies of this body and become a Magus. And I''ll never get anywhere close if I don''t accumulate merits.

    As the two men up ahead suddenly disappeared into the denser shadows of an offshoot of the long alleyway, Stroud clenched his jaw and reached into his coat to procure two items.

    In his left hand, he clutched one of the Spark talismans while he raised the vial in his other hand up to his lips. Using his teeth, he ripped away the cork stopper that was sealing the potent raw Nura inside the glass and spit it into the dirt. He poured the remaining liquid into his mouth and squirreled it into his cheek.

    Then, with the vial back in his coat and a dagger now clutched tightly in his right palm, Stroud slid forward, pressing himself closer to the nearest wall.

    The mental link with his target showed no signs of movement, but the sharp sound of knuckles rapping on wood let him know the moment he had been waiting for had arrived.

    They''re here...

    Stroud¡¯s adrenaline that had been constantly surging up and down in waves for the last hour or so, suddenly roared back in a more forceful torrent than it ever had. He captured everything around him in excruciating detail.

    The sequence of knocks...

    The offshoot¡¯s relative position to the main streets nearby...

    These were all the particulars that were crucial for him to memorize.

    But in the end¡­ one also needed to be alive and present to eventually make that report.

    A sinister voice sounded behind him and it pierced Stroud¡¯s body with a biting chill that the wind could never achieve. ¡°Well, well¡­ It looks like we finally caught the rat that¡¯s been scurryin¡¯ around all day.¡±

    Eira¡¯s broken-toothed smirk met Stroud''s gaze as he whipped around to face the man.

    Goosebumps emerged on his skin, and though he knew it was of little use, Stroud still held his dagger out threateningly. At the very least, it would distract their eyes from the talisman held closely against his side.

    ¡°What¡¯re you after, Rat? Don¡¯t tell me yer actually one of them little chicks always squawking for morsels from the big mother bird atop the mountain¡­¡±

    Stroud didn¡¯t respond. He couldn¡¯t, in fact. The left half of his face had gone almost completely numb from holding in the Nura for so long. He needed to take action ¡ª and quick ¡ª because the loss of sensation was even beginning to affect his vision.

    All around him, he saw the drawn-out shadows drifting around the area with sadistic glee ¡ª their stillness disturbed by the competing ripples of amber and silver moonlight... and Trelti¡¯s large frame that approached from behind.

    Rough surges of spiritual perception charged at Stroud from either side, but he swiftly blocked them off by wrapping himself in a Ward. His grasp of the technique was barely passable, but he didn¡¯t need much more than that to fend off these two.

    Unfortunately, that would not be enough of a deterrence. Eira¡¯s confidence was gone, replaced by a thin frown, but he remained rooted in place.

    The man¡¯s fingers twitched, eliciting a flinch from Stroud and a step forward from Trelti. They were currently locked in a tense standoff, but the gap between all three of them was slowly and subtly closing.

    I haven¡¯t even begun¡­ Faded memories of the Chasm of Souls flickered through Stroud¡¯s mind. The endless void of inky despair that dyed even the brightest of souls its color¡­ There was nothing else like it, and it was waiting for him. Again. The twisted beast was still lying in wait with its maw opened wide, and this time ¡ª he cut a much more appetizing meal.

    But even as the thorns cutting into his heart writhed in agitation, Stroud¡¯s mouth spread into a precarious smile, almost causing the Nura to spill from his lips. Self-mocking laughter echoed through his mind.

    Truly, how can the darkness of this world even compare¡­? Have I really become so weak that I can¡¯t even confront these paltry shadows?

    I''m still so caught up in what I left behind that I haven''t taken a close look at the obstacles ahead of me.

    Stroud breathed in deeply through his nose as his thoughts cleared. And in his vision, lacking as it may currently be, it appeared as if the light spilling from Naleen would be much brighter than her sister''s on this night.

    In this piss and shit¡­ This will not be where I fall.

    A blaze of warmth spread outward from the depths of Stroud¡¯s soul as he adjusted his grip on the dagger. He knew he needed to make the first move or it would already be too late if Eira or Trelti got jumpy and cast a spell.

    Hrer¡­ Don¡¯t let me down.

    With a swift swing of his forearm, Stroud flung the dagger forward. He cared not if it even connected with his target; all he needed it to do was provide a momentary distraction.

    He spun around to face Trelti in the ensuing breath, ducking low as he charged toward the large man. The strand of mental energy was still pierced solidly into his opponent''s Sea of Nura, so he could clearly feel its stirring as the Walker reacted to his attack.

    But spell or not, the man could crush him easily with his bare hands, so he had no intention of confronting him head-on.

    As his surroundings distorted further due to the sudden burst of motion and the ever-growing numbness of his face, Stroud slackened his jaw and spit out a portion of his burden onto the talisman still clutched in his other hand.

    Thanks to a single round of testing before his meeting with Dowd in the morning, he knew he only had a second or two before the spell activated once the parchment was saturated with Nura.

    So with arms-outstretched, Stroud dove to the right of Trelti and slapped the talisman onto whatever part of the man¡¯s body he managed to come into contact with.

    The maneuver was successful, but Stroud landed hard on his shoulder. Pain shocked his system, and he could only do his best to ignore it as he rolled to the side with all his might, just managing to avoid the massive gauntleted fist that smashed into the ground at his previous location.

    Chunks of stone and mud scattered through the air from the massive impact, followed by a blinding flash of vivid blue light.

    Trelti¡¯s pained groaned sounded out like the suppressed growl of some massive beast, and as Stroud recovered his feet, he saw the man sink heavily to one knee.

    The results were better than he had anticipated. Stroud hadn¡¯t expected much from a tier 0 spell, but he was more than happy to be proven wrong at this moment. And he also knew he couldn¡¯t allow his surprise to ruin this opportunity.

    Hrer still hadn¡¯t made an appearance, and he would need to do more than just temporarily stun one of the two thugs in order to escape.

    Stroud fished the last talisman from his coat as he crouched down and positioned Trelti¡¯s body between himself and Eira. The last bit of Nura spewed from the active corner of his mouth and in rapid succession ¡ª he smacked the damp talisman onto the struggling man¡¯s exposed scalp.

    However, the burly Walker was unwilling to go down so easily.

    Rope-like muscles and blue veins bulged from Trelti¡¯s neck as he grit his teeth and struggled mightily against the discharge of lightning that had paralyzed his nerves. His mountainous aura surged while he unleashed a primal roar and swung out his fist that was covered in a thick layer of stone.

    Stroud had dodged backward, but he was still clipped by the blow.

    All the air left his lungs as he was sent flying from the impact. But in such a narrow alley, his flight didn¡¯t last long. He smashed into the worn white wall, sinking back slowly as a metallic taste filled his mouth.

    Blue light flashed again, revealing a bloody smile of satisfaction as the final notes of Trelti¡¯s cry were sharply cut-off.

    ¡°No! Trelti¡ª!¡± Eira¡¯s shout pierced through the still air, and the silence that followed trembled with uncertainty.

    ¡°You little fucking rat!¡± Eira stalked past his partner¡¯s fallen form, a hazy green mist condensing in his hand. The man¡¯s scowl shifted back and forth between intense rage and sorrow several times in a matter of moments. ¡°I swear¡­ I swear to you...¡±

    Stroud tried desperately to distance himself from the oncoming storm of anger, but the sharp pain in his ribs caused his breath to hitch with every slight twitch of his body. And the remaining strength in his arms and legs would not carry him far, regardless.

    ¡°...If Trelti is dead¡­ then I swear I¡¯ll¡ª!¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll what?¡± A composed voice interrupted, drifting past Stroud¡¯s ears like a warm summer breeze.

    Eira¡¯s body stiffened and the vaguely shaped green blob in his palm fell apart. It seeped through the cracks between his fingers, hissing angrily as it dripped onto the ground¡­

    The man looked down at the thin throwing knife lodged in his chest with wide eyes. But when he looked back up, there was actually a hint of mockery lacing his red eyes.

    ¡°Ha! Poison! You think poison can¡ª¡±

    Lifeless, Eira slumped forward, his head landing just short of Stroud¡¯s boots.

    A splash and a deep sigh arrived behind Stroud as Hrer jumped down from the roof where he''d been perched.

    ¡°Well, kid. Boss ain¡¯t gonna be too happy about this one¡­¡±

    The disappointment in his tone was heavy, but as Stroud and Hrer made eye contact, two wolfish grins flashed through the dark all the same.

 Chapter 19

    ¡°Sit still, would ya. It ain¡¯t that bad¡­¡±

    Stroud winced, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth as Hrer reached past his coat and felt around the left half of his ribcage.

    ¡°May be cracked, but nothing was broken too badly. I can get you some ointment when we get back to Norfins¡¯ and you¡¯ll be good as new in a few weeks.¡± After passing on his diagnosis, Hrer extended a hand and helped him to his feet.

    Stroud finally got a good look at the scene as he rose, and as his eyes passed over the prone forms sprawled in the muck, an involuntary shiver ran through his body. It traveled from the tip of his toes all the way up to his scalp. Disturbed, he averted his gaze.

    The euphoria of survival and victory was long gone at this point, leaving behind a dull pain that accompanied the hollow remains of satisfaction.

    There was all manner of questions now buzzing through his head, but as Stroud watched Hrer checking Trelti¡¯s wrist for a pulse, he only managed to croak out a single one: ¡°Is he dead?

    ¡°Yup.¡± Hrer¡¯s blunt reply didn¡¯t contain any emotion as he allowed the Walker¡¯s limp arm smack back onto the ground. ¡°Were those Bolt talismans or Lightning Tendrils? I had trouble making it out from above¡­ Well, either way, they did quite a number on him. Fried his brain right up like a tender piece of meat.¡±

    ¡°Spark. They were just some Spark talismans¡­¡±

    The man tapped his foot, thinking out loud as he ignored both Stroud¡¯s listless reply and the pool of blood that had seeped out from Eira¡¯s body, splashing beneath his soles. ¡°I don¡¯t usually carry many talismans on me, but those were definitely more effective than my poison would have been against such a beefy guy¡ª¡±

    ¡°...Hrer. Hey, Hrer! Shouldn¡¯t we be getting out of here?¡± Stroud shared little of his partner''s composure. His eyes darted to either end of the alley, half-expecting a member of the city watch to already be blocking their path. The surroundings were so still and quiet. And that lack of noise left the atmosphere charged with an anticipatory pressure.

    ¡°There¡¯s no rush.¡± Hrer ceased his muttering only to brush away the tension with a dismissive wave of his hand. ¡°Rather, there¡¯s something I¡¯m very interested in...¡±

    Eira¡¯s body was unceremoniously flipped over as Hrer crouched down. He first extracted the knife still lodged in the man¡¯s chest before rummaging through the blood-soaked clothes and pockets. The sack of coins and the parcel of Srodgess were soon tossed to the side with the same lack of care.

    Stroud winced as he watched the bundle of hearty leaves plop into the mud. What could the thug be carrying that was more valuable than those...?

    ¡°Ah-ha!¡± Hrer suddenly exclaimed, drawing back Stroud¡¯s attention. The man¡¯s scar stretched wide as he smiled and dislodged a smooth silver plate from the bottom of the boot he¡¯d separated from Eira¡¯s foot. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned¡­ I thought it might be this, but I didn¡¯t think Prince Ajax was really willing to empty out his coffers to this extent...¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Stroud probed. His brow furrowed as he inspected the plate. It looked wholly unremarkable.

    ¡°Kid¡­ This little Inscribed Implement is probably worth more than both our lives put together.¡± Hrer cradled the thin slab of metal tenderly in his palms.

    Still, Stroud couldn¡¯t put away his skepticism. ¡°You serious?¡± He didn¡¯t see any spell inscriptions or feel any kind of aura emanating from it.

    Hrer shrugged, brushing the dirt from his knees as he stood up. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t believe it either if I hadn¡¯t seen Lady Adelais purchase one from an Inscription Exhibition in the capitol last summer.¡± Silver moonlight bounced off the plate¡¯s smooth surface as he held it up for Stroud to take a closer look.

    ¡°The Magus in the Empire who created this named it a Tremor Plate. He developed the spell a while back and partnered up with an Inscriptionist to start producing these. But only recently did they start making their way into Redenia and all the way out here in the reaches¡­¡± Admiration and longing gleamed in Hrer¡¯s eyes as he carefully wrapped up the object and stuffed it inside his dark vest.

    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s it do?¡± Stroud¡¯s curiosity was wholly piqued. He had a general idea based on the name, but he still had to ask.

    ¡°It¡¯s only a tier 1 spell, but it¡¯s brilliant in function.¡± Hrer clarified, stooping over to pick up the bag and bundle of Srodgess he¡¯d thrown to the side earlier. ¡°When channeling Nura into the Implement, it will send out pulsing waves through the ground, returning with feedback if someone¡¯s moving nearby.¡±

    Stroud let out a long, painful sigh when he heard that. Grimacing, he clutched at his tender side. ¡°No wonder¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too hard on yourself, kid. Items like this are pretty rare, and you did a decent job tracking them throughout the day. The only big mistake you made was leaving one of them unmarked. If you¡¯re gonna use a method like you did, you gotta lay your eyes on them more frequently so that you won¡¯t get penned in if they split up. As you know, even these two idiots were eventually able to figure out how you were following them.¡±

    Hrer¡¯s words made perfect sense. After hours of observing the men moving as a pair, he¡¯d taken it as a given, and subsequently, relied too heavily on his spiritual perception. It would¡¯ve all been fine if he could control two different strands of mental energy at once. But that didn¡¯t seem in the realm of possibility¡­

    As if reading his mind, Hrer handed out another piece of advice. ¡°Might want to start looking for some spell models useful for tracking. Don¡¯t know how you got your hands on so much liquid Nura, but those talismans of yours seemed pretty handy¡­¡±

    Stroud chuckled dryly, ¡°If only spells were that easy to come by.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised, kid.¡± Hrer tossed the Srodgess into the air like he was playing with one of his knives. ¡°Merits are useful for more than just collecting shitty leaves like these.¡±

    The man¡¯s eyes suddenly hardened as the bundle landed back in his hand. ¡°Don¡¯t focus your efforts solely on procuring what you need for Blood Steeping. Trust me when I say that getting your hands on suitable Spirit Beast blood is a nigh impossibility.¡±

    ¡°Suitable blood? What do you mean by that?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°Just¡­ come to me first ¡ª if you happen to gather everything else. Manage that, and I¡¯ll gladly share the details.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± Stroud trailed off and shivered as the biting wind howling between the walls nipped at his ears. He pulled his cloak tighter and pushed those thoughts from his mind for the time being. His eyes wandered back over the field of battle.

    Stroud¡¯s sudden shift seemed to pull Hrer back into the moment as well. Drawing back, the man pocketed the other goods and glanced down at the pale, rapidly freezing bodies. ¡°I know I said the boss wouldn¡¯t be happy ¡ª she doesn¡¯t like us messing with the current status quo ¡ª but don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll shoulder the blame for this incident¡­¡±

    ¡°Why¡­?¡± Stroud couldn¡¯t help but utter.

    In response, Hrer spit to the side and gave Eira¡¯s corpse a solid kick. ¡°Been lookin¡¯ for an excuse to put an end to this one. I¡¯d only been hesitating because I wanted to get a better idea of how he and his partners were actually turning on our guys. It¡¯s unfortunate that the memory of the Exhibition only popped into my mind after getting a look at your predicament tonight¡­¡±

    Bitterness swelled in Stroud¡¯s mouth, leaving its lasting taste on his tongue. ¡°So I was just bait, huh¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t take it too personally, kid. I think your rewards will be plentiful with all that we¡¯ve recovered.¡± Hrer laughed lightly. ¡°Now, c¡¯mon. It¡¯s actually time we got out of here.¡±

    As Hrer¡¯s soft footfalls echoed through the alley, Stroud held in a breath and took one final glance into the sky. He craned his neck and looked deep into the starry expanse. His mind passed the moons and the glittering lights at their back, reaching toward the recently departed souls.

    ¡°I wish you luck in your journey... I hope you find your way to the River...¡±

    He wouldn¡¯t apologize for their death, but he would never wish upon anyone a fate of suffering in the Chasm.

    ***

    ¡°So, what¡¯ll it be, Sir Reeve?¡±

    Reeve smiled helplessly at the young man across the counter. The boy leaned forward confidently, but his cheeky grin laid his inexperience bare. ¡°...Just a pine of ale, Sid.¡±

    ¡°Comin¡¯ right up.¡± Humming a playful tune, Sid disappeared into the larder behind the bar.

    Reeve laughed to himself and shook his head. He shifted into a more comfortable position in his seat and pulled the hood of his cloak forward. His eyes shifted around the spacious hall, taking careful note of each group drinking and eating around the hearth.

    There were quite a few of them, and for good reason. Margo¡¯s was one of the preeminent gathering spots in the outer city thanks to the strength of their ale¡­

    A large mug slammed down on the table in front of him, and Reeve lost himself in bliss for a brief moment as he passionately inhaled through his nose. Lavender incense aside, this had to be his favorite smell in the world.

    ¡°Thanks, Sid.¡± He flipped the young man a silver Mor, then another to keep his attention. ¡°What¡¯s gotten so screwed up in Miss Margo¡¯s head that she¡¯s got you out here serving drinks these days?¡±

    Sid chuckled. ¡°Hey, hey¡­ Don¡¯t go ruining for me just yet. But truth is ¡ª Morrison hasn¡¯t been showing up for work the past week or so.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Reeve responded with mumbled acknowledgment. He lifted up the heavy wood mug and took a deep swig, guzzling the amber liquid down his throat and into his gut where it settled into a warm glow.

    He also thought that would be the end of their conversation, but Sid still stuck around. Wrinkles of uncertainty appeared on the young man¡¯s chubby face as he wrung the dirty dishcloth in his hands.

    ¡°...You¡¯ve been a long-time customer, Sir Reeve,¡± Sid started, ¡°But I think you¡¯d best avoid comin¡¯ in for a while¡­¡±

    ¡°Sid, I¡ª¡±

    Noticing Reeve¡¯s frown, the boy stuttered, taking a step back. ¡°I-I don¡¯t mean anything by it. I-It¡¯s just¡­ Things are getting tense around here these days. Morrison¡¯s not the only one gone missing. And¡­¡± Sid leaned forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping low, ¡°And I know you work up in the Sanctum. The people around here don¡¯t take kindly to those folk, so I don¡¯t want to see you gettin¡¯ in any trouble. You¡¯re a good man, Sir Reeve.¡±

    A heart-wrenching tightness enveloped Reeve¡¯s chest as he looked into the boy¡¯s clear eyes. He could see the sincerity and sympathy in their depths and it left him temporarily speechless.

    It took another long drag from his cup before he found his voice. ¡°I appreciate it, Sid. And maybe you¡¯re right. Though¡­¡± Reeve exhaled a longing sigh, ¡°I¡¯ll surely miss the ale.¡±

    Sid smiled knowingly. ¡°Well¡­ I best be getting back to work.¡±

    Sending him off with a nod, Reeve drained the remainder of his drink and got up to leave, no longer in the mood. Dejection had wholly replaced the burgeoning pleasant buzz in his mind.

    There were so few pleasures left in his life, and all of those remaining were being swept away by this mess.

    He couldn¡¯t help but wonder again how worth it this all really was¡­

    ***

    With a skip in her step, Maeve swept down the long corridor. She paused when she reached the end of the hall and looked down again at the dark pendant in her hands. Already, she was imagining the look of surprise on Stroud¡¯s face.

    It was always so hard to catch him off guard, but with this¡­ she surely could. A tier 1 defensive Implement was hard to come by ¡ª especially one like this ¡ª and she imagined he had yet to even see one.

    Another person''s image flashed through her mind as she continued toward the servant quarters, and it brought an equally large smile to her face. The twisted look of anger that distorted Sybil¡¯s pouty mouth when she realized she¡¯d lost the bet¡­

    Maeve breathed in the refreshing night air as she passed by door after door. 128 was the one she was looking for, and it didn''t take her long to find it.

    However, worry flashed across her eyes as she arrived. The torches lining the walls still flickered brightly, but she didn¡¯t see any light leaking out from his room. Where has he been all day¡­

    She hesitated but decided to knock anyway. ¡°Stroud¡­?¡± her voice was soft, but it sounded strangely loud in the empty hallway. ¡°Stroud!¡± she called out again, knocking with more force.

    For a long moment, there was no reply. But just before she turned to leave, the lock on the door clicked and it swung inward.

    ¡°...Maeve?¡± A haggard voice queried.

    Maeve spun around, her breath catching in her throat when she saw him. He stood stiffly, and the shadows at his back couldn¡¯t hide the discomfort in his eyes and the subtle crease of his brow. ¡°Are you¡­ Are you all right?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m doing fine, Madam. I was just laying down for an early rest... Is there anything I can help you with?¡±

    Anger smoldered in Maeve¡¯s eyes as she frowned. Why must he always hide everything?

    Tonight was supposed to be a happy surprise, but¡­ She took a deep breath.

    ¡°May I come in?¡± Maeve kept her tone level. ¡°There¡¯s nothing I require assistance with, but rather, I actually had something I wanted to give to you¡­¡±

    Much to her pleasure, shock overtook Stroud¡¯s pain as his bleary eyes widened. ¡°Of course, Madam. Just give me one moment.¡±

    Maeve waited patiently in the doorframe until the light of a candle flickered on at his desk. She approached with rapid steps as he pulled out the sole chair in the room for her to take a seat.

    ¡°You sit,¡± she declared, tucking her hands behind her back as she fiddled with the pendant.

    Stroud winced, but he didn¡¯t argue and sat down slowly and tenderly.

    I knew it¡­ Maeve grumbled in her mind. She also knew that he wouldn¡¯t admit to her how he got hurt ¡ª or even that he was injured in the first place. Her only small satisfaction was that her gift seemed more appropriate than ever.

    As they faced each other in the dim light, Maeve held out her hand. ¡°Here.¡± She shoved the amulet toward him. ¡°For you.¡±

    ¡°Miss, I can¡¯t¡­¡± Stroud slightly recoiled.

    ¡°Do you even know what it is¡­?¡± Maeve rolled her eyes. This time, she gained no joy from the bitter smile her words produced.

    ¡°This should be an Inscribed Implement, correct? I truly appreciate the gesture, Madam. I really do. But I can¡¯t make use¡ª¡±

    Finally, the moment she¡¯d been waiting for had arrived. ¡°Actually, yes you can,¡± Maeve interrupted. She flipped the pendant over in her palm, revealing the dark green gemstone embedded in its back. ¡°This Implement holds its own Nura ¡ª enough for three uses. And can be activated using only your Spiritual Perception.¡±

    ¡°M-Miss, I-I¡­¡± Stroud¡¯s voice quaked.

    ¡°Take it, Stroud,¡± she pleaded. ¡°This was won from Sybil thanks to your efforts.¡±

    ¡°Even still¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough.¡± Maeve was angry now. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to tell me about it, it''s fine. But I w-worry, you know?¡± She faltered as she felt her eyes and cheeks swelling with heat. ¡°Y-You¡¯re always going out into the city all by yourself¡­¡±

    Stroud looked back at her. Two pairs of reddening eyes met. And for the first time, Maeve saw traces of tears trickling down her friend¡¯s cheeks...

 Chapter 20

    ¡°Any honey?¡±

    ¡°Just a bit, thanks.¡±

    ¡°All right¡­ Here you go.¡± Stroud carefully received the steaming cup of tea from Dowd with both hands. Taking the seat across the table, the man¡¯s gaze bored into him, sweeping over the lingering injuries that had dyed the left-half of his ribcage a messy collage of purple, blue, and black. Layers of clothes and bandages covered the bruises, but they didn¡¯t seem to do much to impede the Magus¡¯ senses.

    Dowd sighed and shook his head ¡°Well, I never anticipated saying this to you so soon after our first meeting, but... the Headmistress has requested your presence. After our business concludes ¡ª you are to head directly to her office. Should you find anyone...¡± The instructions continued on, but Stroud¡¯s mind was already elsewhere.

    Trails of steam and a pleasant fragrance wafted into his nose as he drew the delicate cup to his lips. He sipped gingerly, savoring the scalding beverage¡¯s path into his stomach. Then, when it had settled there comfortably, the bitter notes and sweet undertones of honey traveled up through his body and into his head to disperse the drowsy clouds. And as they parted, Dowd¡¯s remarks finally made their way back in.

    ¡°A-Ah! My apologies.¡± Stroud hastily placed down his drink, feeling the weight of the Magus¡¯ prolonged stare. ¡°I was¡­ captured by your wonderful blend.¡±

    Fortunately, the hasty excuse earned him a nod of approval. ¡°I knew you would be able to appreciate it. After all, the man who taught me the recipe was a servant in a position very similar to yours. He was the sole attendant of Lady Faltheisi when I was serving as her tutor years ago. The Faltheisi family heads a powerful trading company in the Empire,¡± Dowd added offhandedly at the end. ¡°Anyway, Lady Faltheisi loved tea ceremonies, and with their access to all manner of exotic goods ¡ª I was able to learn quite a lot.¡±

    ¡°Mmm, I can imagine,¡± Stroud murmured his agreement ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ spent a period practicing and learning myself, but I can¡¯t claim much knowledge or skill.¡±

    Dowd folded one leg over the other, scoffing as he brushed off those demure words. ¡°All in due time. You have many years ahead of you. That is...¡± His gaze and tone grew grave, ¡°If you can manage to keep yourself out of trouble.¡±

    Smiling bitterly, Stroud lowered his gaze. ¡°Admittedly, things did proceed beyond my expectations. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop, stop, stop,¡± Dowd repeated. He held up a hand and drank from his own tea. ¡°I don¡¯t want to know,¡± he said after drawing in a deep breath. ¡°Nor should you tell me.¡±

    ¡°R-Right...¡± Stroud coughed awkwardly and returned to his tea to swallow the excuse caught in his throat. He felt off today. Everything was passing him in a blur, and it was almost like he was just an observer of it all. An outsider.

    The bloated bubble of nervousness in his stomach swelled as he thought of his impending meeting with Lady Adelais. He knew what he had to do. In fact, he¡¯d known since the moment Maeve had handed him that pendant.

    But for the past few days, he¡¯d only been able to lay in bed and wait, slowly recovering¡­

    ¡°Young man.¡± Dowd sighed again. ¡°If there¡¯s something bothering you ¡ª speak. I may not be able to sympathize, but I¡¯ve many years of experience working with people around your age.¡±

    The glaze over Stroud¡¯s eyes abruptly disappeared, and there was no more hesitation in his heart. ¡°Instructor Renfry¡­ I may be too bold in asking this, but¡­ do you have any family?¡±

    Surprisingly, the Magus smiled. It was an earnest and warm smile, quite unlike the proud curl of his lips he usually wore. ¡°I do. I never had any children, and I haven¡¯t spoken with my parents or my brother since I left for an Arcanium many years ago¡­ But I did have my wife. And even though she no longer remains in this world ¡ª she is still the most important person in my heart.¡±

    Dowd seemed to already have anticipated his next question because as Stroud spoke his smile grew wider. ¡°Is she¡­ Is she the reason you¡¯ve come all the way out here?

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Stroud nodded. That was all he needed to know. ¡°Thank you, Instructor Renfry. Your answer has helped me a lot.¡±

    ***

    Sitting hunched over in the cold and bleak lobby, Stroud reached into his shirt and pulled out the small, oval-shaped pendant. He flipped it over in his palm and trained his eyes on the dark green gemstone inlaid in the back.

    It pulsed with a faint light ¡ª at a rhythm that seemed to match his own heartbeat. Calm and steady.

    A sharp light flickered in the depths of Stroud¡¯s dark irises as a faint, tingling flame burned in his chest.

    In his mind, he asked himself a simple question: What was his greatest motivation to persevere in the void?

    An answer came easy.

    Wasn¡¯t it them! The loved ones he¡¯d lost¡­ all those precious memories and feelings¡­Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    The chasm had corroded everything he¡¯d ever cared about until all that was left were blurry, distorted faces and faint yearnings that reared up in his heart from time to time.

    It was much more painful to retain those indistinct reminders than to have them erased completely, but in the end¡­ hadn¡¯t he fought so desperately just to retain that pain?

    That pain made him who he was. After he devoured his first soul, that pain fueled his anger and his desire. It was his greatest motivation to find his answers. And wasn¡¯t that also why those other souls were so willing to join him? They too couldn¡¯t bear the thought of losing their families, their dreams, and their fondest memories¡­

    But in this new life ¡ª he¡¯d forgotten all of that. He was distracted by all the new memories and feelings, and these sentiments made him fearful.

    He was so afraid to lose it all again.

    So he pushed everyone away, and distanced himself emotionally, building a wall around his heart so that if he failed ¡ª he¡¯d have nothing to lose.

    It seemed like the perfect plan, but it was actually his greatest mistake. Because now¡­ he had no motivation. No anger to help him persevere.

    What would my answers be worth if I have nothing left to cherish at the end¡­?

    Without friends, without passions¡­ he was just empty. And it wasn¡¯t the answers he sought that would make him something more.

    What was a prize worth to a man who had no one to share his accomplishments with? All his victories would only resound within a hollow shell...

    ¡°The Headmistresses will see you now.¡± Seeing as how opening up the doors was not enough, the attendant¡¯s rough voice called out to him in anger.

    Stroud startled slightly, but he quickly tucked the pendant away and gathered himself. As the image of Maeve¡¯s radiant smile flashed through his mind, the flame in his heart mellowed out, easing into a warm golden glow.

    Stand tall¡­ Back Straight¡­ Eyes forward¡­ Just as Celina had taught him, he marched through the antechamber and into the office.

    ¡°Good day, Headmistress,¡± Stroud announced himself as he stopped a few paces shy of her desk.

    Lady Adelais paused her work and looked up. Amusement danced in her eyes. ¡°Do you know why I¡¯ve called you in?¡±

    Stroud¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°I assume it is to dispense punishment or reward for the completion of my mission.¡±

    ¡°In part, yes.¡± Lady Adelais paused and opened a drawer in her desk, reaching inside. When she laid the item she retrieved onto the smooth polished wood, Stroud¡¯s eyes widened.

    Truthfully, it wasn¡¯t what he¡¯d been expecting at all. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± he muttered. ¡°That¡¯s the talisman I drew for the Madam.¡±

    ¡°So you do claim ownership.¡± Folding her hands together, the Headmistress stirred a biting gale with the intensity of her gaze alone. ¡°Instructor Alen brought this to me the other day, and I must say ¡ª I had little faith he was telling me the truth. Talent in the field of Inscriptions is rare, and even the most prodigal geniuses usually still require years of repetition and practice before they can reach a level that qualifies them as a Master.¡±

    ¡°This too is still some distance from that peak, but nevertheless, it approaches closer to it than I¡¯ve ever seen of someone your age...¡± The hoarfrost clinging to the walls throbbed faster and faster as anticipation crept into Lady Adelais¡¯ tone. ¡°You must understand then, that I still find this difficult to believe. So you will show me.¡±

    Stroud struggled to swallow the saliva that felt like it was freezing in his mouth. Cold seeped further in, but today, the flames of his resolve could not be quelled.

    ¡°I-I have a request¡­¡± It was inappropriate for someone of his status to directly make eye-contact with a superior, but he did so anyway. In Stroud¡¯s mind, Lady Adelais was someone who placed her ambitions and results above propriety. And seeing as she didn¡¯t respond right away, he took it as an opportunity to continue. ¡°...If I am able to demonstrate my talent in drawing talismans, that would make me much more valuable as a subordinate, would it not?¡±

    Suddenly, she leaned forward. Her face froze and it became much more difficult to read her expression. ¡°It would. Continue on¡­¡±

    The loud thumping of his heart pounded loudly in his ears as Stroud caught his breath and mustered himself. ¡°Since that is the case, I¡¯d like to request an early renegotiation of the terms of our contract.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­? And what do you propose.¡±

    Warnings screamed through Stroud¡¯s mind. The veins of hoarfrost were expanding and air in the room seemed to be slipping away. ¡°M-My stipulations is simple. I¡¯d only ask that you not order me to directly or indirectly harm anyone bearing the Marwood name ¡ª or any who serve under their banner¡­¡±

    Long seconds passed in silence. Lady Adelais leaned back, drumming her fingers atop the desk. Her long nails produced crisp clacks as they made contact with the wood.

    When she finally spoke, she drew out her words in a low breath, ¡°I can agree to that.¡± In the following moment, an amused smile graced her features. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what spurred your change of heart, but the Marwoods are my allies, after all. For now. And should that change in the future¡­ it won¡¯t be too late to just kill you alongside them.¡±

    Immense relief flushed through his body. But after hearing her response, Stroud no longer felt the desire to speak any further.

    ¡°Though, before any of this ¡ª I must see the results.¡± There were plenty of blank papers stacked alongside her work, so Lady Adelais simply pushed a few to him alongside an inkwell.

    Stroud picked up the brush right away, read to draw the Spark model, but he was quickly stopped.

    ¡°No, not Spark. I want to see you draw this.¡±

    The Tier 1 spell model for Arcane Bolt was laid next to practice sheets. A scrutinizing look at the diagram revealed nothing that Stroud thought looked too difficult. In fact, as a spell of the Primal discipline, it shared some vague similarities to Imbuement of Strength in its nature.

    Hence, he quickly got to work. When drawing talismans or engraving in his mindscape, Stroud never felt any of the anxiety or hesitation that often plagued him.

    There were three pages for him to make use of, but after he reached the second, Lady Adelais already called for a stop to his work. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±

    Her voice was level and she still wore her mask of ice, but Stroud knew she was pleased. ¡°We can proceed with the signing of new oaths, but the cost of the Spirit Blood Ink required for drawing the severance pact and the binding oath will be extracted from any future merits you earn.¡±

    Stroud nodded and she proceeded on: ¡°This is also a good time to add a new clause to your duties. In addition to the missions you receive from me, I will also now require you to produce a set number of talismans for me each week. Materials, spell models, and a workspace will be provided and those will count toward your compensation. However, I will reward you with extra merits for each talisman that reaches beyond 70% spell efficiency.¡±

    Lady Adelais didn¡¯t offer him any chance to agree or disagree with her additional amendment. She swiftly drew out two large talismans ¡ª one of which Stroud recognized very clearly ¡ª and handed him a thin needle.

    ¡°Now, let us begin¡­¡±

 Chapter 21

    A dank, musty smell filled the gap between the walls as Stroud descended the spiraling stone stairwell. It reminded him of the air within the servants quarters back at the Marwood estate ¡ª still and thick, yet somehow full of cold drafts.

    Back then, he had hated it. He always blamed it as the culprit for all his headaches and any other ailment that waylaid him. But now, as he followed behind a mysterious grey-clothed man, it provided a measure of comfort and familiarity, and he almost had to consciously hold himself back from breathing it in deeply...

    ¡°¡ªPardon me!¡± An apprentice suddenly rounded the column and jostled by. He was clearly in a rush, but as Stroud peered back over his shoulder, he saw the young man stiffen for a split second, eyes flashing with uncertainty and a hint of fear before he carried on at an even more hurried pace.

    Well, it¡¯s good to know that others suffer the same¡­

    Stroud had a pretty clear idea about what had caused the student to pause. It was the bewildering presence of the man leading the way in front of him. The man who had seemingly stepped out of the wall when they met up just moments ago in the Borean Tunnel.

    Heavy layers of cloth shifted and swayed around the agent¡¯s thin frame as he slid noiselessly down the rough treads. The sway of his gait made him surprisingly hard to track with the naked eye, and because the color of his garb blended in so well with the environment ¡ª it all amounted to an exceedingly effective camouflage.

    Yet, that wasn¡¯t what left Stroud practically stepping on the agent¡¯s heels so as not to lose sight of him. There was something else, some sort of intangible barrier or layer surrounding the man that told everyone else to look away. And it wasn¡¯t a spell.

    Stroud¡¯s best and only guess by the time they reached the bottom of the stairwell was that it was some sort of advanced Spiritual Warding technique. Though, any further investigation would have to wait for another time because his senses were suddenly overloaded as they arrived in a bog of noise and feeble auras.

    Numerous blue-robed young men and women milled about in the lobby, chatting loudly in an incomprehensible babble while proudly displaying their cultivation progress in front of their peers who were lounging around or eating their lunch. There were a few older apprentices who actually seemed to be working on something as they shuttled glassware or equipment down one of the branching corridors, but overall, the lower halls seemed to be an almost purely social environment.

    ¡°Gods¡­¡± Stroud groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn¡¯t actually see any of the auras billowing around the domed chamber, but their presence produced a glare in his mind and they worked in tandem with the bright illuminating crystals in the ceiling to create a kaleidoscope of color that could only result in one thing: an immediate splitting headache.

    Only by burying his spiritual perception in the deepest corner of his consciousness was he able to slowly overcome the intense stimulation.

    Stroud soon calmed his breathing, but when he reopened his eyes, he nearly burst into a fit of laughter as he saw the man he¡¯d been following attempt to take a step forward only to lose his balance and nearly fall over.

    Who would have thought the greatest weapon against a powerful Magus is a room full of boastful teens¡­

    An amused smile crept onto Stroud¡¯s face as he walked behind the agent who was now staggering toward the easternmost exit like a drunkard. More than once, the man¡¯s ghost-like presence was nearly exposed by his errant, faltering steps, but with surprising fortitude, he made it out of the hall with none of the apprentice¡¯s any the wiser.

    Stroud, however, was unable to achieve the same, and in fact, had a much more difficult journey. His smile had long since disappeared.

    Apparently, servants ¡ª or simply anyone who looked like one ¡ª were in high demand.

    ¡°If you¡¯re cleaning the halls today, lab 15 in the Alchemy Wing needs tidying up.¡±

    ¡°Um, my partners and I need more reference material for our spell crafting research. Would you mind fetching us some?¡±

    ¡°Hey! My room in the Inscription Hall is nearly out of ink; what have you been up to all day?¡±

    Some apprentices were more polite than others, but nearly all of them had no qualms issuing orders to a stranger. At first, he tried to explain the situation, but it wasn¡¯t long before he realized the easiest way to get them off his back was to simply nod and agree.

    No wonder I never see any of the Sanctum¡¯s staff or servants heading toward the lower halls¡­

    ¡°This place has gone to shit.¡± When he finally arrived alongside his guide, Stroud heard a muffled voice sounding from the shadows beneath the agent¡¯s loose-fitting hood.

    He let out a dry chuckle in response and the two of them promptly turned their focus back to the task at hand ¡ª if only to quickly put that waking nightmare from their minds.

    Fortunately, for all the hustle and bustle of the lobby, the halls outside of it were nearly empty. A long, narrow corridor full of evenly spaced doors and torches lay before them, and of course, their destination was located all the way near the end. They trudged all the way down to Practice Room 36 and barged through the door.

    It was a large space ¡ª nearly empty and full or scorch marks and corrosive holes. The room¡¯s function was obvious at a glance. And though he recognized that clearly, Stroud was still left bewildered, so he posed a question to the empty air: ¡°I thought I was being shown to a private workspace where I¡¯d be producing talismans¡­¡±

    The agent turned to face him and produced a sealed letter from the folds of his robe.

    This¡­ feels familiar¡­ Stroud briefly weighed the note in his hand as he received it before prying it open.

    The existence of The Nidus and its entrances may not be revealed to anyone...

    The message was simple, and Lady Adelais¡¯ crest was imprinted at the bottom. He''d seen the white-winged shield once before, but this time, its presence was particularly glaring and Stroud was struck by a sudden idea. Unfortunately, it was not pleasant enlightenment, but rather, a foreboding realization.

    He held up the note for the agent to see and tapped on the crest at the bottom of the page. ¡°This can be considered as having received an order, correct?¡±

    ¡°Correct. Any item bearing her Anima Mark can be considered an extension of her person.¡± The man¡¯s reply was stated plainly but the words still bit deeply into Stroud¡¯s psyche.

    Questions. There were always more questions.

    He could see how using these notes would establish an absolute and efficient chain of command... But just how many order slips would Lady Adelais¡¯ agents be carrying on their person? And what would happen if the agent ordered him to do something that was in conflict with the terms of the binding oath he had established with her?

    Who would be punished? Or was this one of the means Magi had of circumventing the system¡­?

    But while his mind raced, Stroud only nodded lightly.

    The agent took that as his signal to continue and approached a blackened gouge in the rear wall. He stopped within arm¡¯s reach of the scar and held up a small object ¡ª resembling a badge ¡ª that Stroud couldn¡¯t quite make out.

    Bidden by the act, murky pockets of Nura emerged in the ground. Thin strands rapidly extended from these focal points and wove together like a network of veins or a web. Stroud frowned as he watched the scene through his mind¡¯s eye. He had to strain himself just to vaguely discern the magic¡¯s presence, so he was ultimately unable to make out the exact shape or form the array eventually took on before it disappeared back into the earth.

    His final grumble of frustration layered on top of the rumbling of stone as a pocket of the wall receded and slid to the side, revealing a passage deeper into the mountain.

    Stroud¡¯s eyebrow twitched as he approached the dark entrance. Wasn¡¯t he just producing a few low tier talismans? This whole unveiling felt awfully embellished and unnecessary and in contrast with what he knew of Lady Adelais¡¯ more imposing style.

    ¡°Take this.¡± The agent tossed Stroud the token that had triggered the formation. ¡°This will be your key to access The Nidus. I suggest you keep it on your person at all times because should you lose it¡­ well, your life is probably soon to follow.¡±

    As Stroud rolled the small metallic badge between his fingers, a sequence of sphere-like sconces began flickering on inside the passage. The crystals within them shined eagerly and seemed to be encouraging him forward, so Stroud obliged. He followed the trail of lights downward into the heart of the mountain, but it didn¡¯t take long before he reached a wide junction and had to let the agent retake the lead.

    Luckily, it was only one of two turns he would need to remember before they arrived at a set rimesteel double doors marking a dead end.

    ¡°Consider yourself fortunate,¡± the man grunted, distaste rolling freely from his tongue. ¡°This is one of the specialty labs reserved for Magi in the lady¡¯s service. It is now yours. Inside you will find a full-set of alchemical equipment and a workstation complete with a collection engraving tools for inscriptions and talismans. Every week, someone will come by and dispense your weekly quota as well as a supply of Spirit Blood Ink.¡±

    When he finished his explanation, a cold killing intent suddenly surged around the man. There was no power like Nura or spiritual perception behind it, but the bloodlust was tangible in a similar way. ¡°Though you may now enter The Nidus, do not take that as permission to roam freely around the area. Aside from the path that I showed you, you are not to take any others, understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir,¡± Stroud acknowledged, solemnly. Right now, all he cared about was that he would have a quiet and secluded area to do some research and take care of anything like Blood Steeping that was best performed away from the hive of apprentices roaming the Sanctum above. There was no need to do anything rash.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be off.¡±

    The man¡¯s killing intent lingered around the area long after Stroud had lost sight of him, and as he used both hands to push open the doors, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder just how many other grey-clothed specters were looming within the walls¡­

    A shiver ran down his spine as he did his best to put that thought to rest, and fortunately, the sight of the lab helped tremendously in that regard.

    Stroud felt a pulse of energy run through the room; it thrummed almost like an electrical discharge and it resonated with a much softer pulse that originated from the medallion tucked into his pocket.

    When the two throbbed in tandem, a bright blueish light filled the space.

    Another array¡­ He knew little about them ¡ª aside from some general knowledge ¡ª but in such a short time, he got to experience two in action.

    Another surge of energy swelled, but on this occasion, it emerged from within himself. It was his adrenaline born from anticipation. And it stemmed not solely from the neatly arranged laboratory that greeted his eyes, but that there was so much more for him to discover and explore.

    All he needed was a chance, and it had finally arrived.

    The upheaval in his first few weeks at the Sanctum had struck so swiftly and brutally that Stroud felt like he was constantly caught reeling. There was always too much on his mind and he didn¡¯t have anywhere to find solace¡­ make plans...

    He missed writing notes and reading atop the dingy boxes in his old room at the Marwood Estate, but he was more than glad to swap out that old rotting wood with the smooth marble tables that now invited him over.

    Lightly running his fingers across the glass beakers and test tubes and the rows of sharp chisels and other engraving tools, Stroud breathed in deeply. A cool current washed through his lungs and spread through his veins; however, it wasn¡¯t anything like the dark and creeping chill of his fear.

    This current was refreshing and it brought a shocking clarity to his mind ¡ª like he¡¯d suddenly dunked his head in a pale of cold water.

    Once. Twice. It continued circulating through his system for a few rounds before it eventually nestled into a small seed inside his heart. There, it accompanied the soothing golden glow that was shielding him from the poisonous clutch of thorns.

    Merits¡­ Merits come first¡­ Stroud mused internally. There was much he could accomplish with a sufficient amount of them as he¡¯d learned during his meeting yesterday. Spell models, Inscribed Implements, access to the Sanctum¡¯s archives¡­ the list went on and on. And Lady Adelais had already rewarded him with 12 for recovering the Tremor Plate and the Srodgess.

    Subsequently, he¡¯d lost two of them to make up for the cost of the Spirit Blood Ink used during their renegotiation, but still ¡ª 10 Merits was no small amount. Each one was worth about a single gold Mor if he exchanged them for currency. But even more exciting was the knowledge that by this time next week, he could potentially double his total.

    A quota of 20 talismans would be distributed to him tomorrow, and each one that he completed and achieved at least 70% spell efficiency would reward him with fractions of a Merit. Tier 1 talismans would earn him half of a Merit, whereas tier 0s would earn a quarter.

    Stroud had confidence in his ability to meet this standard, and he firmly believed that with a stable income, the day where he recovered his Sea of Nura or found a replacement would not be far off¡­

    Filled with grim determination, the wintry seed cycled through his body once more.

    ***

    On his way back from The Nidus, Stroud decided to stop by Maeve¡¯s room and check in on her. This was around the time in the afternoon when they usually met up, and it would be a good opportunity to express his thanks for the pendant she¡¯d gifted him. He¡¯d been in such a sorry state on that night that he hadn¡¯t done so at the time.

    A pang of guilt struck Stroud¡¯s chest as he thought of this, followed by another as he returned to the lower halls¡¯ lobby. It was lunch hours, he realized. That was why it was so crowded with apprentices.

    He looked at them laughing and jostling each other and thought back to all the times Maeve nibbled through her lunch at her desk with her head hung low.

    Fuck¡­ I¡¯ve been so stupid.

    Stroud barreled through the crowd and up the stairwell, paying no mind to the curses hurled at his back. He crossed the Borean Tunnel, and by the time he reached Maeve''s door he was hunched over, chest heaving.

    Taking a moment to compose himself, Stroud lingered outside. But as his breath recovered, he heard a faint voice sounding from inside, and not just one.

    A visitor?

    Stroud¡¯s knuckles hovered an inch away from the door. He hesitated. It wouldn¡¯t be appropriate to interrupt, but as the voices inside escalated, he decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

    Who knew if Sybil was upset from the loss of the pendant and had decided to escalate her bullying?

    The knocks reverberated loudly and a sudden silence followed. Stroud¡¯s heart thrummed.

    Short footsteps scampered toward the door, and a wave of relief washed over him as a familiar blazing head of hair poked out into the hallway.

    ¡°...Stroud? Stroud!¡± Maeve seemed surprised at first, but her eyes were quickly suffused with joy as she saw him. ¡°Come in!¡± she propped the door open wide and beckoned him inside.

    The girl¡¯s excitement immediately infected him, and Stroud returned her wide smile. ¡°Good afternoon, Miss¡­ I hope I¡¯m not interrupting anything?¡± As he hung up his coat and cap on the clothes rack, he inclined his gaze toward the petite, short-haired girl sitting on the edge of Maeve¡¯s bed.

    ¡°Not at all!¡± Maeve startled upon realizing she''d forgotten something so important. She hurriedly shut the door and ushered him over to make an introduction. ¡°Stroud, this is Ellei Zedri ¡ª daughter of Viscount Zedri. Ellei, this is my attendant, Stroud, who I was telling you about.¡±

    Ellei sprung off the bed and offered Stroud a slight bow. Large brown eyes sparkled under her long bangs as she made her greeting, ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Stroud.¡±

    ¡°A-Ah... The pleasure is all mine, Madam Zedri.¡± Caught off guard by her dismissal of usual etiquette, Stroud stumbled over his words. In the end, he could only offer a deeper bow than her own.

    Upon witnessing the slightly awkward exchange, Maeve giggled with delight, but fortunately, she didn¡¯t leave him hanging for too long. ¡°Stroud, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d already be well enough to be up and moving about. I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re feeling better.¡±

    ¡°It was only a minor accident, Miss. Nothing to worry yourself over. And really, if you¡¯re busy right now, I can always come back later to tidy up.¡± Stroud glanced back and forth between the two girls. By all appearances, Ellei was a nice and earnest girl. He didn¡¯t want to get in the way of Maeve finally making some friends.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s actually perfect that you¡¯re here!¡± Ellei voiced enthusiastically. ¡°You see, the reason I came to visit was to ask you for a favor.¡±

    Maeve nodded in agreement and added, ¡°Right. Everyone was really impressed by the talisman you made me, and when Ellei expressed her interest in hiring you ¡ª I thought to invite her to discuss and then seek you out for your opinion.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Stroud replied as some of his excitement dulled. ¡°You¡¯re looking for talismans then. I¡¯ve limited experience, to be honest.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s alright.¡± Ellei was quick to brush away his doubts. ¡°Based on what Maeve told me, you¡¯re a natural. After some practice, I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll have a problem with any tier 1 spells.¡±

    Stroud shrugged, peeking a glance at Maeve out of the corner of his eye. He already didn¡¯t like where this was heading. He would have rather had Ellei come over with the intent to hang out with Maeve than to do business. ¡°If you show me the spell model, I can give you a more clear answer.¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Already prepared, Ellei led them over to Maeve¡¯s desk and pulled out a large, rolled-up slip of parchment from within her robes. She spread it across the wood surface and invited them to take a look.

    ¡°Invigorate¡­ Hmm...¡± The spell was even more simplistic than the Arcane Bolt Stroud had drawn in Lady Adelais'' office. He was having a hard time thinking of a good reason to refuse. ¡°How many would you need?¡±

    ¡°Maybe only three or four each week¡­¡± Ellei wrung her hands as she saw Stroud frowning. ¡°And of course I¡¯d be willing to give you all the materials upfront.¡±

    Maeve too had noticed his dour look and jumped in to help out the other girl. ¡°Ellei is starting to grow some spiritual herbs of her own ¡ª just like me. We originally started talking because of our shared interest in alchemy and our plans for cultivating our herbs¡­ I have a partial wood affinity and my family¡¯s spells are well suited for the task, but Ellei is different. Her fire affinity means she¡¯ll have to rely on talismans to help her out, and when I heard about this¡­ It was really me who suggested getting your help¡­¡±

    Stroud let out a sigh as he saw Maeve¡¯s creased brow and her pouting lips. Truthfully, she was probably a better judge of character than he was. If she wanted to help out Ellei, who was he to refuse?

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. Though, I can¡¯t make any promises about the spell efficiency,¡± he warned.

    Ellei cheered. ¡°Yes! Thanks so much, Stroud. I should be able to provide even more low-quality Spirit Blood Ink than is necessary. So if you want to make a few extras for Maeve, I won¡¯t mind.¡± The small girl¡¯s wink at the end had Maeve giggling again.

    ¡°All right, all right¡­ don¡¯t worry about it¡ª¡± The deep, rumbling toll of a bell suddenly rang through the Sanctum and interrupted Stroud. Lunch was over.

    Maeve and Ellei both jumped at the noise, with the latter sporting a worried look.

    ¡°Ugh, I better hurry back to my room and grab my things.¡± She marched over to the door as the final crashing waves settled. ¡°Thanks again, Stroud. I¡¯ll see you in the lecture hall, Maeve.¡±

    ¡°See you!¡± Maeve smiled and returned the girl¡¯s parting wave. When the door slammed shut, she turned back to Stroud. ¡°Thank you. Ellei¡¯s really nice and has helped me out fighting back against Sybil. Without her, none of the other girls in my lectures would probably be willing to talk to me, so I really wanted to return the favor.¡±

    ¡°I understand, Madam.¡± Stroud looked away temporarily. Maeve¡¯s earnest, pleading eyes were almost too much for him to bear. They seemed to pierce directly toward his soul, and the brilliant amber glow within them went on to fill the golden shield around his heart with even greater strength. ¡°It really won¡¯t be an issue for me...¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Maeve chirped and similarly got to work readying herself for the lecture.

    Sunlight spilled into the room and a pleasant melody whispered through the air as Maeve hummed while collecting her books. Her smile and her presence were radiant, and she walked with a confidence that Stroud felt like he hadn¡¯t seen since before the incident where he was crippled.

    ¡°Oh right¡­¡± She paused abruptly and tucked a strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear as she turned to look at him. In that split moment where their eyes met, the space between them froze, and Stroud remembered exactly why he''d been so willing to jump in front of that spell for her. ¡°...Why¡¯d you come for a visit today?¡±

    Tongue swelling in his mouth, he could only fumble around in his shirt and pull out the pendant. ¡°This¡­ I wanted to thank you for this¡­¡±

    The amulet felt so warm in his grasp like it contained all of Maeve''s heartfelt intentions, and as it rolled between his fingers, that heat was transferred through his body and into his chest.

    The golden light ballooned due to the sudden influx, and a primal roar surged from the depths of Stroud¡¯s being. The thorns around his heart hissed angrily, coiling with all their might around the brilliant shield that was trembling and splintering.

    An intense battle was being waged and it reached such a ferocity that Stroud became wholly cognizant of it for the first time.

    Maeve¡¯s muddled reply was lost on him as he looked inward.

    Tracing the echoes of conflict with his mind, Stroud reached the field of combat just as it was approaching its climax.

    The bramble of thorns was blown back as the shield shattered. Drops of dark green venom dripped from its wounds as it reared back and wove itself into the form of a massive dark serpent.

    Similarly, the shield had not yet reached its true breaking point. The glimmering, golden shards rose into the air and pieced back together into a heroic, golden lion.

    A metallic sheen glinted off the lion¡¯s fur as it unhinged its jaw to release another bestial roar. In reply, the serpent flicked out its long, forked tongue and hissed a warning.

    The two archaic beasts eyed each other for a breath before they seemed to have reached an agreement and lunged at one another with explosive strength.

    Biting deeply into the serpent¡¯s neck, the lion completely ignored the thorns lining its back. He swung his head back and forth viciously while the serpent coiled its tail around his waist.

    Back and forth they fought endlessly, and each time they clashed, the ripples produced by their skirmish struck Stroud¡¯s consciousness like a hammer.

    What¡­ What is this¡­

    The pain was intense, but he could only look on from the side. And in time, a strange sensation of detachment took root beneath it all.

    ¡°Stroud! Answer me¡ª!¡± He could feel Maeve shaking his body, but there was a distance ¡ª almost like his head was submerged in water as her muffled voice landed in his ears...

    More tremors reeled him back in, and he watched the rivers of gold blood mixing into the growing pool of venom as the two apparitions accumulated more severe wounds. Soon, Stroud knew, a victor would be at hand.

    The lion¡¯s unyielding spirit and defenses were simply too great for its foe to overcome. The serpent was able to constantly regenerate the dark, gnarled vines that composed its body, but its endurance was nearing its limit.

    Poised to deal a death blow, the lion trapped the serpent¡¯s skull underfoot. However, before it could strike, a chaotic storm exploded into the space and gathered overhead.

    Thunder rumbled through the deep grey clouds, creating a buzz in Stroud¡¯s ears as he felt his consciousness slipping further and further away.

    In the final moments of his hazy blur, he looked up, but all he could see in the heart of the storm was an all-encompassing darkness that came to swallow him whole once more.

 Chapter 22

    Panting heavily, Stroud shot up in bed. His eyes flickered with a wild light as he stared up the bare ceiling.

    Each breath was strained, but he was overcome by such an intense feeling of deja vu ¡ª that he was almost able to completely ignore the pangs of sharp pain in his chest.

    Have I returned¡­? Plunging back into the abyss moments before a sudden and painful awakening¡­ It felt almost exactly like his first few moments waking up in this world.

    But this time, there was no warm voice at his side to soothe him.

    Stroud found himself alone in a long, sprawling room full of rough beds surrounded by half-drawn curtains. His only comfort was the familiar ache of his ribs that let him know he hadn¡¯t died.

    He sank back down onto the mattress, and for a long while, all he did was listen to his own breathing. There were no other sounds to distract from the chaotic thoughts that warred in his mind, pitching a frenzied battle. Stroud tried his best to distance himself from them, he really did, but there came a point where confrontation was inevitable.

    At a loss, he tightly squeezed his eyes shut.

    What¡­ What were those beasts¡­? Among all the competitors, this was the question that had emerged as the victor. It felt the most approachable, and he dared not stray near any thoughts that would lead him toward the jaws of the abyss that had swallowed his consciousness at the end.

    Carefully, Stroud¡¯s mind probed inward. He veered toward his heart and circled around it from a distance.

    The area felt so empty now in the absence of pain. There was only a dull ache. He prodded and pried but his fear didn¡¯t struggle against the pressure of his acknowledgment like it usually did, though neither did his feelings of kinship and familial love surge to fill him with strength.

    It was all just a shallow void, and Stroud didn¡¯t know if he even wanted to inspect it any closer.

    Those feelings in the past had always felt like they were his own. Sure, they placed him under a certain amount of pressure, but wasn¡¯t that just the nature of emotions? They influenced, but they weren¡¯t anything more, and ultimately, he was still in control¡­ right?

    Stroud bit his lower lip until blood was drawn as that doubt washed through him in an agonizing wave. As much as he might want to, he couldn¡¯t deny that when the lion and the snake had manifested ¡ª they were not under his command. And their rampage had brought about tangible harm...

    Could Gau have been wrong? He shifted his train of thought onto a new track.

    Is my spirit even more powerful than she could discern ¡ª my time less? Is this the result of my mind and body lagging too far behind?

    Suddenly, Stroud felt a ripple of response in the depths of his being. The trace of dread that had lingered behind that final idea triggered his fear, and upon feeling the snake stir, he could no longer resist taking a closer look.

    Within the chambers of his heart, two mighty beasts cowered in distant corners. Each one eyed the other as they licked their wounds.

    The lion¡¯s radiance had dulled and his mane was ragged, but the haughty looks that he sent toward the snake still contained all of his previous pride. In response, the withered, thorny reptile could only hiss and turn its head away. Stroud was glad to see the two in such a sorry state, but the knowledge that they had similarly survived the storm resulted in an equal measure of disappointment.

    He observed them a few moments longer, and the more he looked, the more that odd sensation of detachment he¡¯d felt when he¡¯d first seen the beasts built inside him.

    Those apparitions no longer seemed to be a true part of him, Stroud recognized. They contained their own will and a degree of power¡­ and they were dangerous.

    Sitting back up in the bed, Stroud swung his feet over the side and reopened his eyes. His sclera was laced with thin, branching threads of red, but there was a peace and certainty contained within the dark pupils.

    Right now, what they were, and their origin mattered not. There will be a day when I bring these demons under my heel.

    Bedraggled, and still drenched in the cold sweat of his fitful sleep, Stroud strode toward the only door at the end of the hall.

    Without the presence of the beasts to distract or prompt him, he had been granted a window of freedom. And opportunity was outside waiting for him.

    Stroud burst out of the healing ward, startling a group of three female apprentices who were passing through the hall. They whispered behind his back, but their words fell on deaf ears.

    There was only one thing occupying Stroud¡¯s mind at the moment. Merits ¡ª and all he could achieve with them.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ***

    Clenching her fists, Maeve stood in front of the tall, imposing door. It felt like even if she craned her neck she wouldn¡¯t be able to see the top of it.

    She knew that was just her nerves influencing her, but the longer she waited, the further she seemed to shrink and drift away from her goal.

    ¡°You can do this¡­¡± Maeve breathed out and lifted her knuckles to the wood. She knocked as loud as she could until her skin felt like it would tear and split open. There was a small hope inside of her that her determination would shine through and help her chances.

    Instructors weren¡¯t supposed to take on any apprentices as disciples until they settled on a vocation near the end of their first year, but¡­ she already knew what path she wanted to take and being a little early couldn¡¯t hurt, right?

    ¡°Enough! I¡¯ve heard you!¡± A weary voice sounded through the wood as it approached the door.

    Maeve pulled back her hand and blushed as a windswept tuft of hair mounted atop an angry glare looked down at her.

    ¡°Oh¡ª! Miss Marwood¡­ What brings you here?¡± Instructor Reeve inquired, his tone softening.

    ¡°U-Um¡­¡± Maeve faltered, unable to draw her eyes away from his scalp. She knew that he wore a wig, but it was her first time seeing the man without it. And it was clear to see now why he did.

    Feeling the heat of her gaze, Reeve scratched at his scalp and chuckled dryly. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come in? We can sit down and have a chat.¡±

    ¡°Yea, sure!¡± Maeve¡¯s blush deepened. Inadvertently, she had just insulted the Magus she was about to ask a favor of and was berating herself internally as she followed the man inside.

    ¡°Please, excuse the mess,¡± Reeve spoke over his shoulder as he cleared some room for them at the table in his reception area. There were glass bottles and vials and all sorts of bundled up or processed herbs strewn about the man¡¯s workstation, spilling into the rest of his room.

    ¡°I¡¯m not bothered!¡± she replied, cheerfully.

    The last time she had visited Instructor Reeve¡¯s room it was immaculately kept, but nearly empty. So when she had heard the rumors that he was the most accomplished Alchemist at the Sanctum ¡ª she had trouble believing them. However, what she saw now put any doubts to rest. In fact, she felt her spirits lifting as she looked around.

    ¡°So, what can I help you with, young lady?¡± Reeve smoothed out the bottom of his robe before he sat down.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Maeve hesitated to follow his example. She wasn¡¯t sure exactly how master and disciple relationships were supposed to work, but she didn¡¯t want to get off on the wrong foot by acting too casually around him. Instead, she drew in a lungful of air, puffing herself up before she bowed and blurted out: ¡°I¡¯m here to implore you to take me on as a disciple!¡±

    The words tumbled out of her mouth rapidly, and only the sound of her heavy breathing followed after. Maeve¡¯s guts squirmed as she shut her eyes and prepared for rejection.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Though she''d been anticipating it, the simplicity of the man¡¯s reply left her speechless. She raised her head, mouth unhinged, and looked at him. In his eyes, she saw a bottomless well of remorse and sadness, and it almost instantly reduced her to tears as she was drawn in.

    Even on Stroud¡¯s worst days, she¡¯d never seen him mired this deep in grief or despair.

    ¡°I¡¯m just an old man slowly crawling to his end, Miss Marwood. I¡¯ve been keeping track of my charges and I heard that you were interested in Alchemy, but¡­ my time has long passed.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± Maeve exclaimed. ¡°Everyone I¡¯ve asked says your techniques are the best! The older apprentices were blown away when you gave a demonstration in the lower halls last week¡­¡±

    Reeve shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve just practiced the fundamentals for a long time. Maybe decades ago I could have offered you pertinent reachings, but I¡¯ve been stuck in a rut and long surpassed by my peers¡­ in both theory and innovation.¡±

    ¡°Please, Instructor Reeve¡ª!¡± Maeve implored. ¡°I really want to learn from you ¡ª even if it''s only the fundamentals you speak of¡­¡±

    The Magus scoffed, but she could see the gloom in the wrinkles of his face receding. ¡°What¡¯s the rush? If you wait until the fall ¡ª you¡¯ll be assigned a mentor who will help you find the right master.¡±

    Maeve bit her lower lip. ¡°I¡¯m just tired of waiting. I already know Alchemy is what I want to pursue¡­ so why keep waiting¡­¡±

    ¡°Give me the truth ¡ª or I¡¯ll send you away right now!¡± Reeve snapped. His gaze had hardened, instilling in her a trace of fear.

    Instinctually, Maeve wanted to take a step back, but she forced herself to remain in place, standing tall. ¡°I want to help my friend.¡±

    Without speaking, Reeve gestured for her to continue on.

    ¡°Because of me¡­ he always has to place himself in danger. The first time he nearly died, and just recently, he came back bloodied and bruised from a trip to the outer city. B-But every time¡­¡± Maeve faltered, choking back the sobs building in her chest. ¡°E-Every time¡­ I can only watch from the side and do nothing¡­¡±

    ¡°I just want to help!¡± she cried out, releasing her long pent-up frustration. ¡°B-Because I can feel that he¡¯s desperate and I know he¡¯ll keep pushing himself into bad situations!¡±

    Maeve wiped at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve as she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. ¡°I know that if I learn Alchemy I can help him ¡ª and help others. I-I¡¯m just worried I¡¯m already too late¡­¡±

    ¡°I can teach you.¡± Reeve¡¯s voice was so soft that it barely reached her ears. ¡°But not as a Master. Once a week, come to my quarters and I can give you a lesson on the basics.¡±

    Unable to speak, Maeve could only nod. Unhindered, her tears kept flowing.

 Interlude: Between Friends

    Walter Marwood shielded his eyes from the fierce rays of the sun as he stepped out of his inn.

    It was hot outside. Much too hot for his liking.

    His steps across the weathered, stone tiled road were lethargic, and he could already feel beads of sweat trickling down his back. If not for the views, he couldn¡¯t imagine why anyone would choose to live in a place where the summer days grew this damn warm.

    At the edge of the steep hill across from his inn, he paused and rested against the trunk of an old leafy tree. A fair breeze ruffled his clothes and the lazy drone of insects filled his ears alongside the garbled, distant shouts from the Solum District below.

    It really is beautiful, he admired. Sprawling throughout the basin outside the city walls, the Armore lake glittered with brilliant sparks of joy. Small boats and masses of people were already gathered on its shores despite the early afternoon hour, and even though they were nothing more than small specks in his eyes ¡ª their exuberance was evident in how they scrambled about.

    Walter gathered a deep breath, trying to steal as much of that blissful and refreshing feeling as he could.

    It was something he found hard to come by these days¡­ And he needed it now more than ever in order to placate the flames of anger that burned through his body with even more heat than the burning waves of light that filled the sky.

    Landon¡ª! The growl emerged from deep in his throat as he turned away. In just moments, the fleeting serenity was already scorched into ash and expelled from his mouth as his chest heaved. Its taste was dry and bitter and he knew it would not leave him no matter how much food or drink he drowned himself in.

    Walter had never experienced such an intense, all-encompassing rage in his life, but even still, he forced himself to maintain a steady pace and tread back down the road.

    His destination was the Ephrine Gardens, and it wasn¡¯t far.

    A multitude of estates and entertainment venues just like it littered the Caelum District and this one wasn¡¯t anything special among the lot. In fact, it was regarded as one of the more sordid establishments ¡ª if a majority of what he¡¯d heard during his past few days of investigating was believed to be true.

    Most esteemed Magi wouldn¡¯t be caught dead entering such a place, but Walter knew that with Landon¡¯s salary, it was likely one of the only places he could regularly afford to seek pleasure¡­

    Resentment continued to churn in his gut as he walked. He was wasting his time here. The summer harvest in his fief was only weeks away and he needed to be there casting spells to ensure the health of as much of the crop as he could.

    Winter¡¯s deathly chill still lingered in the bodies of many of his serfs. It had been one of the harshest in recent memory and it was important that they recover this year. Yet, here he was ¡ª strolling through the capital like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world.

    Walter abhorred himself for being unable to resist venting his fury, but after receiving Stroud¡¯s letter, he¡¯d been unable to focus his mind on anything else.

    It''s best to just be done with this quickly...

    After passing a few blocks, the avenue he was on widened, opening up to a small park that surrounded a pond. Willow trees dipped their heads toward the water to sate their thirst while residents amused themselves by tossing oats and kernels to the family of ducks swimming around. People laughed and chatted and pleasant music drifted over from afar. But this time, Walter didn¡¯t bother trying to enjoy the atmosphere. He knew now that it would only frustrate him more.

    So instead, he beelined through the park and toward the source of the music. It originated from a large and airy building that bordered the pond¡¯s northern edge.

    How grandiose. The Ephrine Gardens was designed in the imperial style that was slowly taking root in all the northern vassal states. Carved wooden beams and lintels stained rich colors predominated and the whole establishment stretched in one sprawling, single floor centered around a large courtyard.

    Walter released a portion of his aura barreled toward it and charged past the guards manning the open gate. Inside, he looked around at all the pretty young women dressed in tight uniforms and his simmering anger boiled. They scurried around carrying platters of fruit and drink to indulgent nobles and apprentices who no longer held any hope of becoming a Magi.

    ¡°Landon!¡± Walter bellowed as he stepped out into the courtyard. His aura surged uncontrollably as more sweat soaked into his silk shirt and dyed it a darker shade of green. He knew he looked like a crazed fool, but he cared little for the opinions of anyone present, and he intended to make sure that Landon would never be able to show his face here ever again.

    ¡°Landon! Get out here!¡± he called out again, his voice shaking the walls. Walter¡¯s spiritual perception had covered the entire building as soon as he arrived, and he knew his steward¡¯s presence well enough to recognize exactly where the man was. But even after his second shout had silenced all staff and patrons, Landon had yet to budge. ¡°If I have to come to find you ¡ª I¡¯ll tear this place apart and leave the bill on your head!¡±

    That threat finally caused a stir. The few people accompanying Landon quietly exited through the building¡¯s back door while the man himself stepped out into the open. His short blond hair was combed neatly to the side and his tidy, scholarly look completed the immaculate image of an upstanding Magus¡­ But it was all ruined by the gloom that twisted the man¡¯s features.

    ¡°Is all this really necessary, Walter?¡± Landon¡¯s stiff question was carried across the empty courtyard by a cool wind. It swept through the colorful beds of flowers, seeming to drain the radiant vitality that they exuded until everything was withered and gray. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Baron Marwood retorted immediately. He glanced around mockingly at everyone who had frozen in place due to either astonishment or fear. ¡°When I decided to visit ¡ª how could I miss taking a look at what you¡¯ve been spending all of my money on over the years¡­¡±

    Internally, Walter gloated at the obvious anger that flashed across Landon¡¯s face. It wasn¡¯t easy getting a reaction out of the other man. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see that you¡¯ve been having fun¡­ lounging about all day in a den of the lascivious and talentless¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± Landon snapped as their auras clashed. ¡°I know why you¡¯re here, so why don¡¯t we handle this in private.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Walter grunted. He hadn''t intended to find issue with any others, but his enmity was simply overflowing.

    A hushed chorus of whispers followed them back into the room in the western corner that Landon had previously occupied. It disappeared as the door slid shut behind Walter, but in mere moments, the elegant strum of the harp resumed to fill the empty air.

    ¡°Go on,¡± Landon stated blandly. The steward had already begun pushing the table and chairs toward the edges of the room.

    Walter observed the process, unamused. ¡°With what? Are you expecting a beating of some sort?¡±

    Landon stopped his movements. He straightened himself up and smoothed out his brocade vest. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious. Why else would you travel all the way here other than to vent?¡±

    That much was true, but instead of lashing out like the man had been expecting, Walter only sighed. He''d seen what he feared most. The dull, lifeless glaze over Landon¡¯s eyes had taken all of the fight out of him.

    In his heart, he knew a large part of the reason he came in person was that he hoped for an all-out argument. He wanted them both to lay their feelings bare because he believed that there was still a chance to reconcile.

    Instead, all he saw in his friend was apathy.

    Where was the passionate young apprentice that dreamed of visiting the imperial archives and traveling through the historical battle sites of Eleuthine¡¯s Rebellion?

    Where was the recently advanced Magus who had claimed that¡ªtogether¡ªthey would build the most prosperous fief in the reaches?

    Growing up, Walter had always been following Landon¡¯s lead. Every time he sat down to study¡­ every night he cultivated his aedetari method¡­ wasn¡¯t that all because of his friend¡¯s encouragement?

    The man before him now held none of that desire ¡ª that spark. And when Walter realized that, he knew his anger wouldn¡¯t be worth anything. Landon wouldn¡¯t fight back because he didn¡¯t care. He didn¡¯t care about their past or their present relationship. The man cared only for himself.

    Even still, he couldn¡¯t help but ask, ¡°...Why? I just want to know why? When was there ever something that couldn¡¯t be discussed between us?

    Landon too heaved a sigh. ¡°It''s because we¡¯ve discussed so many things that I already know how it would have gone. You would never have agreed to send Maeve to Frostrane.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, I would never agree to put someone I care about in harm¡¯s way.¡± Baron Marwood glared down at his former steward.

    ¡°But that¡¯s lunacy, Walter!¡± Landon retorted, shaking his head. ¡°Not joining Lady Adelais¡¯ side is the same as declaring your allegiance to one of the prince¡¯s. It doesn¡¯t even matter which one ¡ª they¡¯re all her enemies¡­¡±

    ¡°I have no desire to take part in this conflict at all. It is our enemies outside the border we must worry about,¡± Walter defended. He knew that this was a foolish thing to say, but the more hard-headed he was ¡ª the more it would rile Landon up. And though he no longer desired to mend their relationship, Landon had always been clever and his insight into the conflict was still valuable.

    He had to come out of this trip with something¡­

    Sure enough, emotion crept back into Landon¡¯s voice. ¡°There¡¯s no escaping it. You don¡¯t have the means to do so. King Mylon will be dead before the year is out, mark my words. And when war comes, people like us are only tools to be used by those with more power!¡±

    Walter folded his arms. ¡°If that¡¯s what you truly think, then I can confidently say that you¡¯re the one who¡¯s a fool.¡±

    ¡°Gah¡ª!¡± Landon¡¯s glare brimmed with rage as he breathed heavily. He pointed an accusatory finger as he cried out: ¡°You didn¡¯t even know what was going on until likely a few weeks ago! And what you think you know now is only the beginning...¡±

    ¡°Then tell me, damnit,¡± Walter barked. ¡°Isn¡¯t that your job!¡±

    ¡°My job... was to act in the best interest of the Marwood family. I gathered information about the conflict and determined that Lady Adelais has the best chance of unifying Redenia out of all the potential candidates. That is what is most important. Because should one of the princes emerge victorious... Redenia will be wiped off the map in a few years at the latest. The royal family¡¯s heirs are still too young or too weak. If this task had been left to you, Walter¡ªthe always indecisive¡ªnothing would be done until the enemies were at our doorstep. So, I was forced to make the decision. Like I always have been¡­¡±

    ¡°Who wins the throne has nothing to do with the Marwood''s longevity. It may benefit our status to choose the right side, but ultimately, we live on through our blood. So when did it become in the Marwood¡¯s best interest to sacrifice our heirs as political hostages? Maeve is the family¡¯s future, not me ¡ª and especially not you¡­¡± Landon looked like he wanted to retort, but Walter silenced him with a wave of his aura.

    ¡°Benefits mean nothing if we must sacrifice our character. My father always told the both of us: As Magi, we have been blessed, and we have the responsibility to enrich the lives of everyone around us that is not as fortunate. Wasn¡¯t that the goal of the first council of the Eleuthine ¡ª to empower the weak and the suppressed and bring everyone to a higher standard of living? We are only where we are today thanks to the Nenean Accords established through their efforts. I thought you aspired to those ideals, Landon...¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t help anyone if we are dead¡­¡± Landon muttered. The man turned away.

    ¡°But neither can we do so if we don¡¯t even try.¡± Walter pushed back.

    Defeated, Landon slumped down into a chair. ¡°...We are only two men, Walter. Two insignificant men in a vast world filled with countless beings more powerful than us. What we do or say means so little.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t argue with that. We have approached the limits of our potential, so why work so hard to prolong our lives? Shouldn¡¯t we instead ensure the well-being and safety of those who can make an impact in the future? Maeve is much more talented than either of us. She is bright and kind, and she cares for others. She has the desire and the means to achieve what we can¡¯t¡­ But maybe she will be brought down before she reaches those heights, regardless... because she has one glaring flaw that she shares with me¡­¡±

    The Ephrine gardens quaked as the anger that Walter thought he had displaced returned in a magnificent blaze.

    His voice shivered. ¡°She and I both trust too readily... and too wholeheartedly.¡±

    Walter stared intently at Landon¡¯s shrunken back as the man stood back up and left the room. He didn¡¯t chase him, nor did he have any desire to do so.

    They were strangers now, and they would each have to find their own way forward.

 Chapter 23

    Rising from the den, two men tramped up the steep cellar staircase and arrived out on a busy street. They waited for a few moments in the shadows at the edge of the alleyway, adjusting their hunting leathers and inhaling the morning air through their nostrils.

    A drunkard¡¯s vomit, a vagrant¡¯s small puddle of piss¡­ all the lovely surprises left by the night¡¯s passenger¡¯s greeted them. In reply, one spat to the side while his younger partner doubled over ¡ª nearly adding his breakfast to the growing pile of retch against the wall.

    Stroud¡¯s face was placid as he watched from the fringe of the crowd. For all the times Hrer harped about the Tundra Walker¡¯s keen senses, he neglected to mention how often it did them more harm than good in the slums.

    First, their nose wrinkled; then, they wiped at their watering eyes before it all became too much to bear and they finally grimaced and hurried away as their ears rang from all the shouting and cajoling and the distant sounds of the smithies. It happened every time without fail. Just as it did now.

    Lowering the brim of his tattered cap, Stroud followed the hunters into the stream of halting footsteps and jostling shoulders headed toward the city gates. Passage in this direction was always difficult at this hour because it flowed opposite the sweaty brook of pedestrians marching to The Bellows for work.

    The weather mattered little to these people who toiled in the smog. It was basically the only sector of Frostrane that offered work for the uneducated and lower-class residents, so hot or cold, rain or shine, they were decked from head to toe in whatever layers of clothes, leathers, and masks they could scrounge up.

    A low sigh escaped Stroud¡¯s lips as he bumped into a boy clearly younger than himself. The kid could barely see with all the gear he was wearing, but he plowed ahead anyway, stumbling through the many obstacles that cropped up in his path.

    ¡°We share a similar fate, you and I.¡±

    While making sure that his targets hadn¡¯t gone too far ahead, Stroud backtracked quickly and slipped a few silver Mors and some change into one of the boy''s pockets. It wasn¡¯t much, but he didn¡¯t have a lot to spare and it was more about satisfying his urge, anyway.

    Muttering again, Stroud refocused on his task. ¡°Now let¡¯s see what last bit I can earn¡­¡±

    A thin vial appeared in his hand. He uncorked it and swallowed the harsh liquid remaining inside whilst maintaining the straight face of an experienced alcoholic. The sip of raw Nura sloshed between his cheeks as it crackled and fizzed like a carbonated beverage. It numbed his tongue, but nothing more. Fucking swill, Stroud thought to himself.

    Despite their similar price, the doses of Nura he purchased from the Sanctum¡¯s alchemy department could in no way compare to those he¡¯d received from Gau. Their potency was manifold lower ¡ª to the extent that his Spark talismans probably couldn¡¯t even be used to light a fire with them.

    Stroud shivered as he thought of facing a beast like Trelti without the old witch¡¯s potent brew¡­

    Since then, he had handled each scouting mission with a high degree of caution, but he knew he was still fortunate not to have been cornered again. His experience was too lacking and the teams of Tundra Walkers escalated their anti-tracking measures with each passing day it seemed like. Their efforts made Merits hard to come by out in the field.

    What¡¯ll it be this time¡­ Another Tremor Plate; a cleansing talisman¡­ something new, maybe?

    As many means as Stroud now had at his disposal to trace someone from a distance ¡ª these men always seemed to have just as many to thwart him. The conflict out in the slums had devolved into a battle of resources: Who was willing to spend more to gain the information they wanted? And without his own source of Nura, the price was often sky high for him.

    Still, without effort, there would be no gain. Stroud reached into his coat and procured a Hunter¡¯s Mark talisman as he and his objectives reached the outer sphere of the slums. The foot traffic had finally thinned out enough for him to take a clean shot.

    Hunter¡¯s Mark was a tier 2 spell that he was sure the two men were intimately familiar with, but that didn¡¯t make it any easier for them to avoid it. It functioned very similarly to Perception Probing. A blunt arrowhead of raw energy and wind was formed and shot forth from the animal skin under the guise of shadows. When it connected with a target, a seal would be left behind on their clothes or skin and it would remain attached to the original talisman through a string of Nura.

    Drawing and casting a Hunter¡¯s Mark cost nearly a quarter of a week¡¯s earnings, but it was well worth the price as the missile was easy to miss and the force of the strike was nigh imperceptible through any sort of thick leather or hide. And sure enough, after Stroud spat out his Nura onto the slip of parchment ¡ª the taller Tundra Walker on the left didn¡¯t so much as flinch as the faded bolt struck his back.

    Seizing upon his momentum, Stroud sent out a sliver of his spiritual perception and latched it onto the handsome looking man with long hair who he¡¯d designated earlier as the stronger of the two. This was another habit he¡¯d picked up a few weeks back.

    By observing the stronger opponent¡¯s Sea using his mental energy, he ran a slightly higher risk of alerting them but he also gave himself a better chance at escaping a more powerful apprentice¡¯s spell.

    So far, so good.

    Neither had reacted to his intrusions before they took a branching thoroughfare that cut away from the gate and toward the Verum. Keeping his head down and his steps slow and off-balance, Stroud followed from afar.

    These two Tundra Walkers weren¡¯t the same low-level thugs he¡¯d encountered on his first mission with Hrer. The polish of their appearance and their accents when they whispered with each other told him they¡¯d spent much more of their life outside the city than within. And the air of authority and pride with which they carried themselves indicated that they likely held some measure of status within the tribes.

    Recently, most of his spare hours were spent lurking around The Bellows looking for targets, and these were the biggest fish Stroud had managed to spot within slum¡¯s murky waters thus far. Reeling any information out of them wouldn¡¯t be too difficult either as his past few days of observation had revealed the younger one¡¯s loud mouth. The consequences of getting caught by these two might be more severe, but alternatively, the reward would be well-worth his days of effort.

    Focus, Stroud urged himself. The slowly budding seed of cold energy was roused unbidden as he kept his breathing steady and his eyes trained on the ground. While it circulated, its presence aided him in eradicating all distractions and extraneous information. Almost all the concentration he could muster was focused on filtering through the various conversations floating down the street.

    ¡°...My father is arriving in less than a week. Do you really expect him to stay in that foul dungeon?¡±

    The marked man glanced around casually before he replied in a hushed whisper, ¡°Of course not. We¡¯re working... securing accommodations for... the Vulture¡¯s grand-daughter has her eyes everywhere... ¡±

    Scowling, the handsome young man opened his mouth to retort. He was obviously about to say something stupid, but someone must¡¯ve been watching over him from the heavens because whatever came out of his mouth was intercepted by a pack of teens that cut across the road behind them.

    Stroud clicked his tongue as the bout of ill-luck stirred some frustration and caused the circulation of the frost seed to falter. When it resumed, it did so with greater force, narrowing the scope of his attention even further.

    His vision seemed to zoom in on their backs as they made a turn down another street up ahead. This one cut away from the markets and storefronts in the center of the outer district and made it much harder to follow them inconspicuously. But he pressed on regardless, only loosening the gap between them to compensate. His fixation on the task at hand was freezing every other thought in his mind.

    Such an occurrence had become common while his nerves and fear were still locked away. The newfound clarity and single-mindedness were beneficial in many respects, but it hindered him in plenty of other ways.

    Stroud had found that information gathering oftentimes required an intangible instinct ¡ª a heat. It wasn¡¯t a hot-blooded boldness, but rather a lukewarm skepticism. And he lacked that when all that remained flowing through his veins was a steady supply of ice-cold blood...

    The path ahead narrowed and twisted in a winding curve causing the strings attached to his targets to be jerked askew by every turn. Each twitch of his perception was mirrored by a twitch in his heart.

    Not good. Roused by the demon¡¯s sudden agitation, Stroud came to a halt. The deep shadows and invisible eyes watching from every corner and window suddenly became so unmistakable. They had been warning him all along.

    Exhaling the breath frozen in his lungs, he spun on his heels and headed back the other way.

    The venomous snake¡¯s feelings of indignation continued to crash against the walls of its cell when not long after, Stroud¡¯s tie to the Hunter¡¯s Mark was abruptly severed. His Probe followed shortly.

    A Perception Ward instantly sprang up around Stroud as he retracted all his mental energy and darted into the closest alley. He worked his way back to the main road as fast as his legs could carry him, fending off three different surges of mental energy that materialized and swarmed him from all sides.

    He was frustrated by his failure, but not upset. All errors could be resolved. Stroud was absolutely sure those two hadn¡¯t been aware of him, but it was also true that he didn¡¯t usually venture this far outside the slums when he was operating as one of Lady Adelais¡¯ agents. It was entirely possible that their network was much more developed around the Verum.

    His mind started looping through the events that had led him to this point as he arrived back out on the main road, searching for a direction. The currents of will attacking him still refused to relent. They smashed at his ward with all the subtlety of a blacksmith shaping steel, and though his opponents lacked skill, they made up for it with numbers. Another apprentice joined the assault, followed shortly by a fifth.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Stroud¡¯s will quaked under the intensified barrage, making it difficult to concentrate, and in the end, it was his gut that led him toward the nearest concentration of voices. He didn¡¯t fear for his life with so many bystanders around, but having his identity exposed could lead to a whole host of problems, so he needed to act with haste. A homeless cripple wasn¡¯t odd at a glance, but if one went looking specifically for one, they would find that people without a Sea of Nura were much fewer in number than one might expect ¡ª even in a city as large as Frostrane.

    Stroud''s stampede into the large assembly gathered in the Verum¡¯s main plaza caused a minor commotion, but he was able to successfully lose his pursuers in the mass of bodies. And here, smelling like a dish-rag drenched in piss proved its benefits outside of only making his disguise more believable. Pretty much everyone was eager to allow him to pass by.

    Weaving toward the opposite end of the crowd and the plaza¡¯s northern exit, Stroud didn¡¯t pay any attention to what had so many gathered here today. His mind was still trying to sort through the events of his pursuit and how or when he may have been revealed¡­

    ¡°...People of Frostrane, come hither!¡± A loud cry suddenly rose above the din. It originated from a large wooden stage positioned in front of the monument of the First Warden.

    The towering stone knight stood solemnly, both of his hands positioned on the hilt of the sword plunged into the earth at his feet. His lifeless eyes looked scornfully upon the prisoners who cowered behind their execution blocks.

    ¡°Tomorrow... Orena watches over the commencement of the summer harvest. So today, we must cleanse our lands of that which plagues us. Their spirits will be our offering; their evils will become our bounty. Let us rejoice!¡±

    Stroud slowed to a halt. His eyes were drawn in by the deep, almost magnetic voice, but his mind wandered astray.

    Was it that time of year already? The warm summer days had blended together in a murky haze. So much of his time recently was spent either deep underground in his lab or wandering through the winding alleys of the slums¡­ Had he really lost complete track of the cycle of the moons?

    Routine had a way of hastening time¡¯s passage, but the Purgadium had arrived much sooner than he felt it should have¡­ And since when did it involve the sacrifice of human life? At the Marwood estate, they only slaughtered a few cattle each year¡­

    Confusion and doubt formed a whirlpool in his mind, drowning out the rest of the crier¡¯s speech.

    It wasn¡¯t until the first prisoner¡¯s head fell beneath the executioner¡¯s blade that Stroud came to his senses.

    Everyone around him cheered once more as the man¡¯s crimes were cleansed, spreading good fortune to all. Their cheeks flushed with heat and excitement as the hot crimson blood trickled down pale wood.

    Unblinking, he watched it all through a crystal clear lens. He saw their joy surge again as another head rolled, but it didn¡¯t resonate with him. He was distant. Aloof.

    As the seed of cool energy cycled through his body, Stroud only felt like he was observing something... interesting. He didn¡¯t understand it, but what he didn¡¯t understand ¡ª he would seek to.

    He started by tracking all the details.

    The city watch was present, but there was no seating arranged for special guests. And not everyone was swept up by the frenzied atmosphere. Scattered around were dark glares directed at the stage.

    Stroud shifted. How many prisoners? Eight. Six males, one female, and one unidentified.

    He zeroed in on the anomaly.

    It was very human-like, but it had pale, bluish skin and angular features that appeared like they were carved from ice. And as he looked closer, another image soon appeared in his mind and overlapped with the exceedingly tall and thin figure shivering on its knees.

    The Cosmae¡­ It was the Stray he¡¯d seen being apprehended outside that restaurant in the west-central market. He hadn¡¯t gotten a good look at it back then, but what he saw now was immensely intriguing.

    Faster and faster, the frigid stream flowed through his veins. It produced an almost irresistible desire to take a closer look. He needed to delve beneath the surface and find out what made it tick. What was their biology like? Did the Cosmae share similar organs to humans? Did they also cultivate¡­?

    Another rousing cheer erupted. The third prisoner¡¯s body slumped to the side. It was the woman, and now, the Cosmae was up next.

    ...Will its blood run red?

    That final thought appeared so harmless at first, but its echo struck like a bolt of lightning. Its presence became so foreign and¡­ sinister in Stroud¡¯s mind. The dissonance between his heart and consciousness grew, and as the executioner¡¯s blade fell once more, he turned away and retched to the side, spilling his guts over another man¡¯s boots.

    ¡°Hey¡ª! What the¡­?¡±

    Stroud stumbled away from the plaza. He felt dizzy and disoriented as the cool energy was swallowed back up by the frost seed before it returned to rest.

    It was time to hasten his plans.

    ***

    Picking his way through the clutter and rubbish in the back of Norfin¡¯s, Stroud arrived outside the door to Hrer¡¯s meeting room.

    It was closed and muffled voices sounded from inside, so he could only wait in the mist of dust and ash that floated through the warehouse. In the meanwhile, he turned his mind inward and inspected the state of the demons.

    Their vitality was returning. And the closer they drew to a full recovery ¡ª the faster their strength grew. The lion¡¯s coat shone with a faint luster and a venomous glow suffused the snake¡¯s eyes. In their respective chambers, they continued to idle, but the cadence of their breathing was steady and full of vigor.

    Quite possibly, the only thing keeping them in check right now was their mutual wariness toward whatever had suppressed and injured them during their first battle.

    I need to begin clearing the second layer of my Spirit Locus¡­

    Only then, did Stroud believe, he would have the minimum mental prowess to intervene in their conflict. Attempting to exterminate them in some way had crossed his mind more than once, but without their presence ¡ª his mental instability seemed to be growing worse. There were no balances to counteract or curb the increasingly extreme urges brought about by the frost seed or the potential emergence of new internal factors.

    Stroud chuckled dryly, his throat still hoarse from vomiting earlier. With or without ¡ª the danger of his spirit was a constant. Only by growing the strength of his vessel would he be able to achieve balance, but it was much easier said than done.

    Suddenly, the door creaked open and he took a step back. An older man whose face was frozen in a perpetual scowl stepped out.

    One of the Berg servant¡¯s, Stroud recognized. He dipped his head in greeting; however, the other man clearly didn¡¯t share the same understanding. His downturned eyes narrowed as he brushed by and hurried quickly to the back door.

    ¡°Stroud! Come in!¡± Hrer shouted from his office.

    Somewhat annoyed, Stroud responded to the call. He swept into the room and took a seat atop a crate across from Hrer¡¯s ramshackle desk.

    A composed gaze inspected Stroud from head to toe before the man spoke. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy as of late.¡±

    ¡°The city is stirring. Everyone is doing their best to reap what they can.¡± Stroud folded his arms and leaned forward, tapping one of his boots against the dirt floor at a steady rhythm.

    ¡°You¡¯re right about that,¡± Hrer replied with a nod. He turned his attention back to the slim stack of papers in his hands. ¡°Any news, then?¡±

    Stroud shrugged. ¡°Could be something. There was a man who showed up recently in one of the hunter¡¯s dens I was assigned to keep an eye on. He seemed to possess more status than the others, so I¡¯ve been watching him closely the past few days...¡±

    ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°...Nothing much had come of it until today. He was speaking with another Walker I didn¡¯t recognize and let it slip that his father would be arriving in Frostrane next week. His companion seemed to react to the news with some deference.¡±

    The sheaf of papers was slapped onto the rough surface of the desk as Hrer gave Stroud his full attention. ¡°Any names?¡±

    ¡°None.¡± Stroud sighed. ¡°Though I can provide an accurate sketch of the man.¡± Names currently meant much more than faces to the agents working under Lady Adelais. It was part of the reason why Stroud had been so persistent in his pursuit earlier.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Hrer scratched the stubble on his chin and kicked his feet up. ¡°For now, that¡¯s enough. We¡¯ll circulate the portrait through the prisoners and informants and see if we can turn anything up. I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re rewarded appropriately if we get any results.¡±

    Already prepared, Stroud separated a folded slip of parchment from the talismans hidden within his jacket. He stretched his hand out to pass it to Hrer, but paused halfway as he did so. There was still an answer he needed before he was dismissed.

    ¡°Hrer. Even without this week''s earnings, I¡¯ve gathered enough Merits to purchase two sets of ingredients for Blood Steeping¡­ I think it''s time you elaborated on that warning you gave me¡­¡±

    Exhaling a long breath, Hrer stretched back and closed his eyes. Silence reigned until one of them popped back open and pierced into Stroud with unprecedented seriousness. ¡°You¡¯re certain you want to go this route?¡±

    ¡°Would you just explain? How can I know for certain until I hear what you have to say?¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ alright¡­¡± Hrer reached out and snatched the portrait from Stroud. He stuffed it into a pocket in his trousers before he sat back up properly. ¡°How much do you know about Bloodline Magi?¡±

    ¡°Very little¡­¡± Stroud racked his brain. ¡°All I''ve read or heard mention of is that the Imperial family hails from a noble and exceptional lineage. But¡­ I¡¯m not certain if that is even related.¡±

    An amused smile stretched out Hrer¡¯s scar. ¡°It most certainly is. They are a family of very powerful Bloodline Magi, but they are far from being the only ones with that title in these lands. In fact, any Magus or person could partially adopt the bloodline of a Spirit Beast to strengthen their body if they had knowledge of a technique, but doing so may not solely bring about said benefits¡­¡±

    Skeptical, Stroud raised a brow. ¡°You¡¯re saying that Blood Steeping will alter my bloodline? It makes no mention of that in the journal¡­¡±

    ¡°What you¡¯ve read is only the footnotes of an old text copied down from an even older manuscript.¡± Hrer scoffed, rolling his eyes. He sighed as they glazed over in the following breath. ¡°I¡¯ve personally read the full translation of the original manual. My father was one of the scholars hired by the Adelais family to translate and catalog much of what they recovered from the ruins beneath Frostrane when they reclaimed the city from the Walkers¡­¡±

    Stroud consciously swallowed his saliva, waiting for Hrer to continue on.

    The man¡¯s eyes burned with anger as he called upon his memories. ¡°Before they were pushed out, the savages attempted to burn or destroy what they could of the city¡¯s history... It''s fortunate that the Warden¡¯s victory was swift and he had the wherewithal to prioritize the right resources.¡±

    ¡°Anyway¡­¡± Hrer shook his head, lamenting quietly. ¡°Blood Steeping is merely an adapted version of the remains of a technique that dates all the way back to the later years of the Primordial Era when Bloodline Magi were first starting to emerge and dominate the world. I can¡¯t say much more than this due to my oath ¡ª but you should know that it''s an imperfect method.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Stroud acknowledged. He could tell Hrer was trying to dissuade him in a somewhat roundabout manner, but his options were sorely limited. Some drawbacks were acceptable as long as the technique could deliver on its promise of improving his physique. He only needed it to buy him some time. ¡°...Would you be willing or able to explain wherein Blood Steeping¡¯s faults lie?¡±

    Hrer frowned. ¡°Since you¡¯re so insistent, I will try and lead you toward the answer. The rest will be up to you, but consider this a favor.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± Stroud shifted atop the crate. A favor was a somewhat steep price around The Bellows.

    ¡°Blood Essence¡­¡± Hrer posed. ¡°Considering you lack so much knowledge about Bloodline Magi, I can assume you know even less about this.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Stroud replied, slowly. He¡¯d never heard mention of it, but somehow, just hearing the term had set off a spark in his mind. The gears were turning as Hrer continued on¡­

    ¡°I can¡¯t claim much knowledge about this topic either, but think about the way in which you completed your binding oath with the boss. Nura is not our only source of power, and the same can be said for Spirit Beasts and all other beings. And just like our Nura signatures ¡ª each individual¡¯s blood will be unique. Some may find theirs to be similar while others very different¡­¡±

    The meaning in Hrer¡¯s tone and the inclination of his eyes was clear as he trailed off. Ideas were already tumbling through Stroud¡¯s mind in an avalanche.

    ¡°Be careful which blood you choose, kid. Because Blood Steeping is rather¡­forceful. ¡±

 Chapter 24

    Steely-eyed, Reeve carefully dripped the Chanterelle Fairy¡¯s blood into the tonic. Three drops in total splashed into the florid purple liquid before a cork stopper was then hastily stuffed into the vial¡¯s mouth.

    Reeve finally exhaled the breath he was holding. He lifted up the glass tube and turned his wrist in a slow circular motion, watching as the concoction swirled, hissing and fizzling angrily.

    Success¡ª! The older man smiled, but the elation of triumph was short-lived.

    A blurry grey figure stepped out of the wall and into his lab. ¡°Is that the last one?¡± it asked. The cold voice cut straight through Reeve, unhindered ¡ª like a frigid gale.

    ¡°...Yes.¡± His reply was soft as his free hand twisted the fabric of his robe.

    ¡°Good. We¡¯ll depart for the interrogations immediately. News reached us yesterday that requires verification.¡± The Lapis Servator glided toward the lab¡¯s exit soundlessly.

    Goosebumps crawled across Reeve¡¯s skin as he collected the necessary supplies and followed after the man. For years he¡¯d interacted with these elite agents of the Headmistress, but they still gave him the chills every time they appeared. They reminded him of the tales of wraiths and other ghastly spirits that the older boys on his block used to scare everyone with.

    Floating through the walls unseen and unheard¡­ always watching. There was hardly any true privacy at the Sanctum, even in The Nidus

    Lady Adelais was constantly peeking into their lives, searching for angles and secrets in order to draw them deeper into her grasp. Thoughts wandering astray, Reeve¡¯s body tensed up as they walked through the dimly lit tunnels.

    In his mind, every shadow held another pair of eyes. Be it the Servators or the lingering tormented souls ¡ª the caverns within this mountain were filled with a suffocating malevolence. He knew only a fraction of the city¡¯s dark history, but he understood that it grew bleaker with each passing day¡­

    The dungeon wasn¡¯t far from Reeve¡¯s lab, so they arrived quickly.

    Behind the bars and narrow, grate windows were many empty rooms. Reeve looked into each as they passed, remembering clearly the faces that once looked back at him.

    He had pitied some and loathed others, but no matter his feelings toward them, it did nothing stem the growth of the pit of guilt in his gut. And soon, it would be expanding further.

    Near the end of the long passageway, five Tundra Walkers were being held. They were positioned closely together because it always appeared to all the prisoners that there were never any guards, and they would often take chances to communicate with each other.

    Reeve could hear their whispering fade as his footsteps approached, but before they made contact, the Servator in front of him stopped. The man turned around and stuffed two pieces of parchment and a set of keys into Reeve¡¯s hand before slipping into the walls to watch.

    One ¡ª he already knew ¡ª was his orders, while the other turned out to be a portrait. For a moment, he admired the skillful depiction of a handsome young man with long, silky hair and a heroic jawline.

    Looks like I¡¯ll be busy in the coming days¡­ Reeve mused after he moved on to his instructions.

    The Walkers were starting to infiltrate the city in greater numbers. Concerning the overall conflict, this didn¡¯t mean much ¡ª as he was confident Lady Adelais was purposefully allowing them to do so. But it did promise that more prisoners would be filling these halls, and that meant more work for him.

    Folding up the papers, Reeve replaced them in his hand with one of the tonics he had just finished brewing. He approached the first prisoner. The faint jingling of metal echoed through the dark chambers... the lock clicked... the rusty gate screeched¡­ and soon, he stood before the man trembling on his knees.

    ¡°Drink this,¡± Reeve ordered right away. He knew he needed to get this over with quickly or his nerves would betray him.

    The Walker complied, slowly lifting his shackled wrists and accepting the vial with both hands. As quickly as he could, the man uncorked it and swallowed the contents, grimacing as the hot, bitter flavor scorched his tongue.

    Reeve remained still, waiting impatiently for the signs that indicated the tonic was taking effect.

    Cloudy eyes, a swaying body, and a low mumbling were what he needed to see before he proceeded. It didn¡¯t take long.

    Moving to the prisoner¡¯s side, Reeve supported him with one hand while he roused the Nura in his Sea and sent it streaming into the second layer of his mindscape. The Charming Voice spell sigil lit up resplendently, dispatching waves of alluring power into his lungs.

    When he opened his mouth to speak, a faint, pinkish mist poured out. It distorted and amplified his words, transforming them into an irresistible tickle in the subject¡¯s mind.

    The Walker was already fidgeting, anxious to reply as Reeve asked: ¡°Do you recognize this person, friend?¡±

    He held up the portrait in the prisoner¡¯s line of sight.

    ¡°I¡­¡± the man was eager to please, but even so, he wouldn¡¯t lie. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    Disappointed, Reeve stepped back.

    Without his support, it wasn¡¯t long before the bewitched man slumped onto his side, twitching as the fog in his eyes grew denser. He wasn¡¯t long for this world as the Chanterelle Fairy¡¯s poison went to work.

    ¡°Useless scum.¡± A rough, shard-like dagger slid across the man¡¯s throat as the Servator rose from the ground, revealing his body from waist to head.

    A thin line of blood spread across the pale skin, but before it could drip onto the floor, Reeve had a hand positioned underneath. He captured the blood essence infused with poison in an empty beaker. This was his reward.

    The Servator waited until a suitable amount was gathered before he spoke again, ¡°Quickly. Onto the next...¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Neither the second nor the third prisoner recognized the man in the painting either. Nevertheless, Reeve methodically collected his blood; although, he was beginning to doubt if the information they¡¯d received was accurate.

    It wasn¡¯t until they reached the fourth Tundra Walker that something a flicker of recognition flashed deep within the man¡¯s pupils. ¡°...He should be a Son of Darkwater, but not an inheritor of the main lineage. I only¡­ I only feel like his features look very similar to someone I know¡­¡±

    ¡°And who would that be?¡± Reeve¡¯s gaze was leveled over the man¡¯s shoulder, directed toward the back wall.

    ¡°Vennu ¡ª one of the three Heads¡ª¡±

    Before the prisoner could complete his thought, the Servator struck.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, for now. Make sure you have enough of those tonics ready in the coming days, Reeve. I¡¯ll make sure you have plenty of Darkwater tribesmen to question.¡±

    Sinking back into the earth, the Servator chuckled softly. ¡°Who knows? You may even have enough blood to complete your project before the year is up¡­¡±

    Reeve sighed, feeling the hollow darkness in his body expand as he knelt down and cradled another lifeless head. He at least had to ensure the essence of this man didn¡¯t go to waste.

    ***

    Lingering within the soothing fragrance, Stroud inhaled deeply.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve had the pleasure of drinking this one before,¡± he remarked.

    ¡°Indeed, it is a new blend.¡± Dowd smiled from across the table. ¡°This is one I¡¯ve been working on devising myself for a long while.¡±

    ¡°Well the smell alone is quite remarkable,¡± Stroud praised. He took a sip, savoring it carefully before offering an opinion. ¡°Hmm¡­ it reminds me of the white tea we had a few weeks ago. Though, the sweetness is much more understated in this blend. It''s just a personal preference, but I¡¯d usually go for the opposite.¡±

    Dowd similarly took a sip, swishing it around in his mouth for a few moments. ¡°I¡¯ll take that into consideration. I may not be steeping it for long enough. Now¡­ what brings you in today?¡±

    Stroud placed down his cup and reached into his coat to retrieve his list. He slid it across the table to the Magus. ¡°I¡¯d like to submit a request for materials.¡±

    Mulling over the items recorded on the parchment, Dowd nodded periodically. ¡°I must say, Stroud¡­ I¡¯m impressed by the amount of Merits you¡¯ve been able to accumulate in such a short time.¡± He looked back up. ¡°None of this should be any problem.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Stroud smiled casually, while inwardly ¡ª he heaved a sigh of relief. He was basically spending all his earnings at once, so he¡¯d been worried about a shortage of stock. Well, either that or a series of inquiries into why he needed such a large variety of Spirit Beast blood¡­

    Reaching a lull in their conversation, he hesitated briefly before deciding to ask a question that had been nagging at him. ¡°Instructor Renfry¡­? There is something else I¡¯d like to ask ¡ª if you have any time to spare.¡±

    Dowd set the list to the side and joined his hands together in his lap. ¡°Go ahead, young man. I have long enough before my next lecture to answer a question or two.¡±

    Exhaling a deep breath, Stroud jumped right into it, ¡°I was shopping in the outer district a few weeks ago when I happened upon the arrest of a Stray ¡ª or a Cosmae. I¡¯m¡­ not sure if there¡¯s a difference between the two, but anyway, I was curious about them.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes¡­¡± Dowd leaned back, stroking his light beard. ¡°I did hear that one had slipped into the city recently. What would you like to know?¡±

    There was so much to ask, but he knew it was best to shoot directly to the heart of his doubts. ¡°Do they also cultivate like humans?¡±

    ¡°They do... But their methods differ greatly from ours.¡±

    Stroud¡¯s heart started pounding in his chest. ¡°H-How so?¡±

    ¡°The Cosmae do not have a Sea of Nura, and instead condense what they refer to as an ¡®Astral Heart¡¯.¡± Dowd seemed to sense his agitation. The man¡¯s far-off look disappeared as he paused to eye Stroud closely. ¡°Don¡¯t go getting any ideas. Humans are not capable of replicating their techniques.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Stroud breathed out. He was doing his best to calm himself and his efforts stirred the frost seed. Ice-cold clarity washed over him, but rather than snuffing out his burgeoning ideas, it led to a whole host of new ones. ¡°As I said ¡ª I was simply curious. That¡¯s all.¡±

    Dowd clearly didn¡¯t buy it. The Magus frowned. ¡°Let¡¯s stop here. I¡¯ll submit your request for materials. It shouldn¡¯t take longer than two days, but I¡¯ll send a note down to your room when they¡¯re ready for pickup.¡±

    ¡°Many thanks, Instructor Renfry.¡± Stroud stood up and bowed. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking my leave¡­¡±

    ¡°All right, go on¡­¡± Dowd waved him off brusquely, but Stroud didn¡¯t mind. He exited the room in a daze and tramped down the stairs at the end of the hall.

    ¡®I need to ask Hrer if there is any way to submit special requests to Lady Adelais¡­¡¯ he thought as he crossed the Borean Tunnel.

    But instead of heading toward his or Maeve¡¯s quarters, Stroud stalked to the staircase winding down into the lower halls. The seed was starting to circulate out of control again and he didn¡¯t have the wherewithal to properly interact with others.

    Right now, he needed to be alone. So into The Nidus he went.

    In a short while, the soft whir of the array starting up in his lab sounded out. Its constant, low buzz soothed him somewhat, and as the heavy door slammed shut ¡ª he released a blissful sigh.

    Only here, did he know peace.

    Stroud walked over to his desk and cleared out a space for him to draw talismans. Sinking his focus fully into the task was the best method he¡¯d found to distance his mind from the cold energy of the seed.

    So long as he worked for a suitable amount of time, all would come to pass. And fortunately, there was still a portion of his weekly commission that needed to be done.

    The quill in his hand dipped into a vial of Spirit Blood Ink as he glanced over at the Spirit Hands diagram. It was a fairly simple Evocation spell that Alchemists commonly used when they didn¡¯t have a helper around to assist them with their experiments.

    Most of the talismans he worked on for Lady Adelais were very similar to this ¡ª supportive spells that weren¡¯t worth engraving in the Spirit Locus, but were still useful in different ways¡­

    Whisking gracefully across the beast hide, Stroud finished the first one in a matter of moments. His full focus was locked in on the image of the spell model in his mind. Another was completed shortly after.

    Three talismans, then five¡­ quickly piled up next to him. But as his hand reached out to place down the sixth, it brushed into something unfamiliar.

    It was soft and it reminded him of hair or fur. Absentmindedly, Stroud turned his head.

    ...Shit, he cursed. I thought I already got rid of these guys.

    A rat sniffed curiously at the talisman on top of the stack, completely ignoring Stroud and his hand. Its dark fur was sleek and jet black, and it was a decent size larger than the rodents that occasionally plagued the Marwood estate.

    Annoyed, he swatted it off the table. These things had a nasty habit of only popping out the walls when he was lost in his work. And they were fearless ¡ª as evidenced by the undaunted charge the critter made back up the leg of his desk.

    Even after he knocked it away a second time it still came right back.

    Praising the rat¡¯s persistence in his heart, Stroud reached out and grabbed it by the neck. He snapped the fragile bone, killing it. He already knew from experience that it would continue bothering him until he did so.

    Sighing, he placed the small body to the side and returned his attention to a blank slip of parchment. Disposing of the body would have to wait until he made his return to the Sanctum.

    A few minutes later, Stroud finished up his eighth talisman. There were only two more to go before he was done with this spell, but as he moved to reapply ink to his quill, he saw a small black figure plunging its face into the inkwell.

    Fucking rats, Stroud snapped another neck.

 Chapter 25

    The day Stroud had been waiting for had quickly arrived.

    In the morning, he rolled out of bed and lit a candle at his desk as was routine. Still bleary-eyed, he trudged over to the washbasin and splashed some cold water on his face.

    The materials I requested should be ready.

    Anticipation was building within him, but¡­ it was a strange feeling. It wasn¡¯t a burning excitement. It was a cold, taut string, and it pierced through his lethargy as it wove new scenarios and contingencies into his framework of existing ideas.

    Cool droplets of water dripped from Stroud¡¯s chin and his nose as he raised his head and turned around. Indeed, there was a letter waiting for him just inside the door. Or, letters ¡ª to be exact. Three of them in total. His brow wrinkled as he flipped through the notes.

    One of them he was intimately familiar with. He felt the texture of the paper and the weight of the fold and knew right away that the sender was Lady Adelais.

    The second item was a mystery, but the third bore the Marwood crest on its wax seal ¡ª a seal that had already been split.

    A low, rumbling growl echoed through Stroud¡¯s chest as he temporarily ignored the others and flipped it open.

    Fortunately, the Baron¡¯s handwriting was exactly as he remembered.

    Stroud, thank you for your letter. Celina and everyone else is healthy and doing well. And should the weather continue cooperating, the harvest looks promising this year. I¡¯m already looking forward to the day we can all gather and celebrate with a meal, but for now, please continue looking after Maeve.

    That was all it read. It was simple and superfluous, and yet, Stroud¡¯s pulse quickened as he gazed over it again and again. For a long while, he couldn¡¯t put it down.

    A throbbing pressure was building inside the chambers of his heart, cracking the foundation of ice. The lion had seen a chance and was seizing upon it, but its escape attempt was swiftly thwarted by the combined efforts of the snake and the frost seed.

    Dark greenish-black scales coiled around the golden beast¡¯s waist and dragged it back as the seed frantically worked to repair the damage.

    With trembling hands, Stroud walked over to his desk and tossed the letter into one of the drawers. He managed to stabilize, but a hint of anger flashed across his eyes. His thoughts were directed toward the Headmistress.

    The message from the Baron likely hadn¡¯t been tampered with, but Lady Adelais was also sending one of her own.

    I am in control. That¡¯s what she was telling him by having the letter unsealed before it reached his door. He had already guessed she might be tracking correspondence ¡ª he just didn¡¯t like the petty games she played.

    She didn¡¯t care what was being exchanged between him and Baron Marwood, but she was always hovering over everyone¡¯s shoulder, watching them with a smug grin¡­

    Stroud frowned and grabbed a small pocket knife to open the crestless missive. The number of people he had relationships with was few, so his curiosity elevated a notch as tore it open.

    Be careful in the coming days, kid. Unless you¡¯re tasked with a mission, try not to leave the Sanctum.

    This one wasn¡¯t signed, but only one person ever referred to him as ¡®kid¡¯ ¡ª and that was Hrer.

    He was skeptical that the man actually cared at all for his life, so rather than a true warning, Stroud assumed this was Hrer¡¯s way of telling him that the information he had last provided was important. Much more important than he initially thought.

    Whoever that young Tundra Walker¡¯s father was ¡ª he was dangerous. And soon, he would be arriving in Frostrane.

    What is their goal? Stroud¡¯s mind wandered as he positioned the corner of Hrer¡¯s letter above the flickering candle flame. It seems much too soon and too sudden for them to be preparing an attack on the city¡­ Eyes clouding over, he watched the parchment burn.

    Could they be making an attempt on Lady Adelais life? No¡­

    The woman never seemed to leave her roost, so unless the opponent was significantly stronger than her, such a mission would be exceedingly difficult. Otherwise, they would¡¯ve already ended things long ago.

    What then? Stroud strained himself, cycling the frost seed. Us? Lady Adelais¡¯ agents¡­ Is the man here to combat her information network. Pairing that idea alongside Hrer¡¯s message seemed to make the most sense.

    At that moment, the snake slammed into the walls, causing Stroud¡¯s heart to skip a beat.

    The final letter in his hands felt much heavier now as he unfolded it.

    Orders from Headmistress Adelais

    Issued: Summer, Day 72 of the Second Crossing

    Stroud of the Marwood House, your request for materials has been approved. However, due to the volume of goods being provided, it has been decided that they will be delivered directly to your lab. Report to the location before noon to receive them.

    In addition, your recent contribution has earned you 50 Merits.

    Fifty Merits was a lot. Everything he had just spent after weeks and weeks of effort only amounted to 65...

    Might there be a chance? he mused.

    Having it almost all replenished in one go got him thinking ¡ª thinking that the special request of his may not be such a far-fetched idea, after all. However, there was definitely a limited time frame, so he needed to act now.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Mind snapping back into focus, Stroud retrieved his pocket watch. Grabbing breakfast at the mess hall would be difficult if he wanted to swing by Dowd¡¯s office as well before reporting.

    Clothes flew out of his dresser in a flurry and he grabbed whatever was on top of the pile. In short order, his hand was scribbling across a page.

    Headmistress Adelais,

    In light of my recent accomplishment, I would like to submit a rather unusual request. I¡¯m unsure of the burial traditions of the Cosmae, but if the body of the Stray that was recently executed hasn¡¯t been disposed of¡­

    ***

    Hurrying down the winding stairwell that led to the lower floors, Stroud¡¯s breathing was heavy. Dowd had held him up for a few minutes longer than he would have liked when he went to drop off his inquiry.

    Damn. His stomach rumbled as he leaped down the last few steps and landed on the floor. He wanted to keep running, but now that there were apprentices around, he composed himself.

    Stroud kept his head down as he skirted around the edge of the busy lobby. He passed the hall that led to the miscellaneous workrooms and was just about to duck off toward the spellcasting chambers when a familiar voice called out to him.

    ¡°¡ªStroud! Is that you?¡±

    Stroud spun quickly on his heels, wearing a strained smile as a slender red-head blazed through the bustling throng of bodies. ¡°Good morning, Madam.¡± he bowed and straightened out his unkempt appearance. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d run into you here at this hour¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah!¡± Maeve startled, fidgeting with her robe like she was suddenly nervous about something. ¡°I was, um... Instructor Reeve was just providing me with assistance on an upcoming project, so we had to reserve a lab...¡±

    Arriving behind her rambling was the old, pudgy Magus

    Stroud¡¯s impression of this man was still mixed. When Sir Reeve had visited the Marwood manor, he was easily flustered and appeared somewhat incompetent. But here, in the Sanctum, he was always at ease. Stroud also knew that someone without a certain level of skill or usefulness would never last long working for Lady Adelais¡­ And rumor had it ¡ª Instructor Reeve had the longest tenure among the staff.

    ¡°It''s been a while, Stroud. I¡¯m heartened to see you doing well.¡± The man¡¯s wrinkled face creased into a smile.

    There was somewhat of an awkward air between the two of them that Stroud couldn¡¯t place as he returned the compliment with a polite dip of his head. ¡°I would say the same to you as well, Sir. Thank you for helping out the Miss in my stead. I¡¯ve been lax in my duties as of late¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble for me, young man. Maeve is talented and a hard worker.¡± He placed a hand on her shoulder as his grin broadened. ¡°If I ignored apprentices like her ¡ª I wouldn¡¯t be worth much as an Instructor.¡±

    Maeve¡¯s spirit recovered at his words. Her bright eyes sparkled as she asked: ¡°So what brings you here Stroud?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m running some errands for Magus Dowd. Speaking of which¡­¡± Stroud glanced to the side and shuffled a bit, trying to make his haste apparent.

    ¡°Oh! Sorry if we¡¯re holding you up!¡± Worry suffused Maeve¡¯s brow. She knew he¡¯d been working for Dowd for a while, and among the older apprentices, the Instructor had a reputation for being pretty strict.

    ¡°It¡¯s no problem! I¡¯m glad I bumped into you, Madam¡­ Instructor Reeve¡­¡± He bowed again to them both, waiting impatiently for Reeve to dismiss him.

    ¡°All right, I hope to see you around again, young man.¡±

    Maeve had left him with a wave before she spun off to head upstairs, but Stroud could feel the Magus¡¯ beady, dark eyes trained on his back as he raced toward the end of the long passageway with quick steps. They didn¡¯t leave him until he found his way into the familiar room containing the entrance to The Nidus.

    ***

    Arcane Bolt Control Test: Blended Spirit Blood Ink, low-quality raw Nura

    Result: -

    Stroud tapped his foot absentmindedly as he inspected the scorch mark left behind on the wooden test dummy. There was about a finger¡¯s width deep indent left in the center of the black smear. It was a pretty pathetic result, in his opinion ¡ª for a Tier 1 spell. But that was the cost of using the shitty raw Nura provided by the Sanctum to cast.

    He knew all his talismans were achieving over 70% spell efficiency because he hadn¡¯t missed out on any of the possible bonuses on his commissions for the last three to four weeks. On a dummy like this, Arcane Bolt should be capable of punching a hole nearly all the way through.

    At least my aim was pretty good¡­ he grumbled to himself as he moved back over to his desk at the other end of the lab. Most of the space in between had been cleared out to avoid any accidents while he was experimenting.

    Everything had been shoved against the wall nearby. It was a jumble of tables, equipment, and boxes. But since he knew what he would be working on, he hadn¡¯t wanted to unpack most of the supplies he¡¯d received earlier when he¡¯d arrived.

    Now, which blood should I try first? Stroud¡¯s eyes turned to the vials filled with viscous crimson liquid neatly arranged next to his journal.

    He first wanted to test the general potency of all the samples before mixing with them with his own blood another round of spells.

    Hrer¡¯s remarks the other day ¡ª especially the one about thinking back to how he signed his oath with Lady Adelais ¡ª was what had spurred this desire. And he was angry the idea had eluded him for so long.

    Was Nura a necessary ingredient in spellcasting? Up until a week ago, he would have absolutely answered yes. But now, he wasn¡¯t so sure...

    When Lady Adelais had them sign the binding oath ¡ª they had used their own blood to seal the deal. At the time, Stroud hadn¡¯t thought much of it. Maybe there was just something special about transcendent runes that required a different catalyst?

    But the more he thought back on the process, the more foolish it seemed to label that as a one-off occurrence. At its core, the contract contained within the oath was a spell, and the medium used to cast it was a talisman¡­ Talismans were written in blood to begin with, so there was surely some link between blood and spellcasting. Additionally, their potency was also affected by the quality of the blood used.

    Stroud sighed as he flipped open his journal again. There were so many signs pointing toward an answer.

    Blood could be used to catalyze blood. He was sure of it. There was something contained within the blood of all beings that gave it power. Hrer was trying to lead him there, but that was just the beginning¡­

    Spinning a vial between his fingers, Stroud checked the label. This one would be first. He used a measuring tube to separate the same volume of blood from the sample that he had used during the test with raw Nura.

    Arcane Bolt Test 1-1: Blended Spirit Blood Ink, Blood of the Single-Horned Saban (strength similar to a First Order Magus)

    With the appropriate amount of blood and an arcane bolt talisman in hand, Stroud approached the spot he¡¯d marked off earlier as his firing point. His nerves were almost completely suppressed by the frost seed. He could feel its cool energy radiating throughout his whole body as he tipped the open test tube, spilling the contents onto the parchment.

    Hot red rain poured down upon the blood-soaked landscape, and the metallic smell filled Stroud¡¯s nose as he breathed in deeply and angled the page toward his target.

    ¡°Please work¡­¡± he mumbled. There was a brief delay, and one of his hands twitched in tandem with his heart.

    His aim faltered, but the talisman didn¡¯t. A beam of brilliant, silverish light shot forth and pierced into the dummy¡¯s shoulder like a bolt of lightning.

    Stroud stood frozen for a moment. At least I didn¡¯t miss, he exhaled. And as he approached to inspect the damage, his lips curled into a very slight but genuine smile.

    The hole in the test dummy was much deeper and cleaner than his first trial''s attempt. He ran his fingers over the coarse wood, flinching back slightly when he felt the lingering heat.

    Hole around the size of my thumb, more intense heat. He was already making notes in his mind about the results, but there was one phrase, in particular, that had risen to the forefront.

    Blood Casting. That was what Stroud decided to call it until he learned the proper term. For now, it was enough to know that it worked; however, there was still much to learn before he began Blood Steeping.

    Stroud returned to his desk.

    Arcane Bolt Test 1-2...

 Update: Rest Assured (not dropped)

    Hey all!

    I''m back again with another update, and I''ll try and keep this short. The story is not dropped - I''m still working on it.

    Basically, in conjunction with getting sick, there were some complications with my allergies/asthma that followed and put me in the hospital for a few days. After getting back home, I had to wait another 5 days for new prescriptions to be mailed out. Its been a pretty frustrating past two weeks, but I''m healthy now and confident in getting back on track. Though, it may still take me a few days to get back into the swing of things. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Thanks for your patience!