《the Outsiders》


 Chapter 1: Nirvana

    An enormous bellow of thunder boomed across the great seas, the gap Kirke and his most trusted retinue has been trying to traverse since childhood. The both of them, Reese and Vincent, kept their eyes peeled for any sort of change. The storm had been brewing for a while - the first time since their trip began a few years ago. It was a foreboding - a great shift in their journey. Would they find their destination?


    ¡°We¡¯re close,¡± suspected Kirke, a thin, anticipating smile lining his lips. But of course, the great seas is only traversed by few specialized mercantile vessels, the juggernauts and their tight crew, trained for the arduous three-year journey across the wide seas: the only known route connecting the islands of Ambrosia, and the continent of Elysia.


    Lands which rarely have any interaction with each other. Even the merchant families from Ambrosia never spare much time with the Elysians; Kirke had no clue where the culture began - but the nomadic families of Ambrosia are content with their own wars, politics, and shenanigans. Thankfully, strife and corruption isn¡¯t yet the majority, but what¡¯s never going to change is their aversion to non-Ambrosians.


    A way of thinking that Kirke has never subscribed to. So he wished to travel; he¡­ rented a juggernaut for himself.


    Quite simply, Kirke was free from all of that since three years ago.


    The juggernaut that Kirke rented was perfect: a complete stock of food, some booze, a few board games and puzzles to pick at - and it was the best in two things:


    One, it can run swiftly across the ever-changing and chaotic tides of the great sea.


    Two, it¡¯s designed to overcome the oncoming storm. This storm, called the Nirvana, is a never-ending storm that complete seals any entrance towards the Ambrosian isles. It encompasses what is called the belt, in which a perpetual ravaging storm exists. It¡¯ll bombard any unprepared vessel with giant waves, unrelenting rain and hail, and the wrath of lightning. The Nirvana is one of a type of phenomenon universally known as an arcadia, a set of space where magic reigns supreme over physical laws.


    Only the ingenuity of the Naga family had provided the blessings of juggernauts, and they weren¡¯t plenty. Kirke suspected they had a lot of resources for their juggernauts, but opted to keep that from the public.


    Reese has probably got a clue - well kind of, I guess. As likely, Vincent has it figured, but he''s still unsure.


    But Kirke knew the now softly smiling Reese; she probably had a clue from some sort of intelligence she''s happened to come across. Her short, thick brown hair rose with the wind; she brushed them behind her ears. Reese¡¯s downturned-shaped blue eyes caught Kirke¡¯s accusing gaze. She playfully stuck out a tongue. But beneath her small frame and short height, a maturity can be seen in her eyes, even as she poked fun at Kirke. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re wondering, the answer¡¯s no, I''m not telling,¡± she teased, her tone soft but firm.


    Kirke shrugged and chortled.


    Reese wore a battle-suit, a synthetic flexible metal that had a matte finish. They were tailor-made, created using the malleable metal Ascite. It was a sturdier but flexible alternative to steel that allowed more freedom and ease-of-movement, as well as being magically malleable, too; they allowed much more integrity and quantity in terms of enchantments and inscriptions. Reese had a pink, chiffon scarf around her neck, which she clutched unto with her right hand. It was a habit of hers.


    The wood creaked under the shifting weight of the boat, and the undulating currents stopped at nothing. Kirke had no fear, however, while a slight giddy threatened to erupt from Reese. ¡°It¡¯s about time,¡± Vincent¡¯s silvery voice prompted Kirke to attention. He looked towards the horizon and was hazed by the flashing lights brought upon hundreds of forked lightning.


    ¡°Do it,¡± Kirke¡¯s tone was imperative.


    Vincent stepped forward, his long, black hair flowed as he stepped casually in front of Kirke. He was a head taller than Kirke, but he slightly bowed his head before he passed him. Kirke nodded in acknowledgment. Vincent wore the same battle-suit as Reese did, but fashioned it with a white sash full of pre-made inscriptions of his own make. Tiny letters, symbols, and numbers were littered on small pieces of paper attached on it.


    Vincent was a pale man with a slightly long face. His sharp, blue eyes studied the lightning strikes, as if he meant to count them. His head turned to Reese for a brief moment, who simply stared on. She was ready.


    As the ship was about to meet head on with the storm, Vincent tore two pieces of paper from his sash. He threw them upwards, and they zoomed past the tumultuous wind with ease, stiff from end to end. They stopped in the middle of the rain of lightning, spaced a few feet apart. A white circle emanated from the ends of the papers, and slowly, like small branches sprouting in unreal time, various lines formed from the edges of the circle and intersected, creating an array that shined with a bright, white light.


    Reese jumped up; as high as the spell array. They were in the middle of the storm now.


    ¡°Conduit, Lightning¡­¡± her eyes glowed purple as her body released particles of the same lavender hue. The particles disappeared into nothingness as they drifted upwards, but the circle formed by the inscriptions shook with engaging power. Kirke¡¯s eyes were glued to the scene, as his body felt the pressure exuded by Reese¡¯s magical manifestation.


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    And with such integrity. The both of them, actually.


    The bellows of thunder continued on into the night, but the ship passed by peacefully as the zaps of lightning were attracted by the rod¡­ circle of mana.


    It was the teamwork he was so proud of when it came to his Vincent and Reese. Their solution was simple. The first problem was creating an actual conduit, to manifest a spell-object that could embody that aspect. Then, there was the longevity - it should take enough beating and be mana efficient until they passed Nirvana.


    When it came to Reese, it was up to her to actually make the circle a conduit. Sure, Vincent could have inscribed a similar function - but the efficiency and effectiveness would not have been up to par with the combination of them both. Their ship was basically unscathed, save for the damage done by the sheer length of the journey.


    ¡°I guess you both pass the test!¡± Kirke exclaimed, his grin from ear to ear. Vincent snuck a personal clasp of victory, and Kirke was content to leave him to himself. Reese however, was in a more celebratory mood. Pleased with herself as she reminisced for a bit, then looked Vincent in the eye. He nodded.


    They stood in front of Kirke and was about to kneel, until Kirke stopped the both of them. ¡°There¡¯s no need to do that,¡± he urged, not really a believer in authority - but they chose this. He also believed in choices, and if its in Kirke¡¯s power, and not against his will or beliefs, he is not against doing what he can to provide for these choices.


    ¡°Thus forth, you are now dubbed legion, for you are one that are many - masters of magic,¡± The air rumbled and a comforting chill wrapped around their bodies, chilling them except for Kirke. ¡°So what does the many seek in reward?¡± The environment stilled, even the ship¡¯s rocking and the waves stopped in patience.


    ¡°To call you Master,¡± their voices resounded in cadence. Kirke sighed. ¡°Are you sure?¡± as if in mocking, the world began to move once more; Kirke scratched his head. There was no response apart from their eyes - resolute, loyal and faithful. There was no other way to do it, Kirke decided: he had to hold dear the trust he¡¯s been given.


    ¡°Ah, well, sure I guess,¡± Kirke never wanted his own Legion, or subordinates even, to begin with. But then again, maybe they¡¯re not subordinate; they¡¯re just believing in the same dream as he did. He thanked them for their support, and extended his hand. They took his hand, and Kirke could feel the Fate of the both of them change right at that second.


    ¡°Now I get to call you Master,¡± Reese spoke meekly, but her voice still cut through despite the brushing of the wind past their ears. ¡°And you don¡¯t get to say no,¡± she smirked victoriously. ¡°Guess that goes the same for me too,¡± Vincent nudged apologetically, though there was a hint of amusement hidden in there.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s fitting, don¡¯t you think?¡± asked Reese as the rays of the sun hampered her vision; she blocked it with a well-placed hand. ¡°What better way to test your aides than by overcoming a calamity-type arcadia,¡± she placed a hand on her hip, her confidence now starting to show.


    ¡°There was bound to be some kind of test like that, I¡¯d figured it a long ago,¡± Vincent added. He coughed. ¡°I found out when I first volunteered to become your aide. I passed that test simply based on that knowledge alone,¡± he proclaimed as a melancholy overtook Vincent¡¯s expression for a brief moment. ¡°I had no doubts of the peril I was to face, so the answer was simple.¡±


    "Why didn''t you say that you had an impression?" Kirke asked, truly curious. "I was afraid I''d be wrong," Vincent revealed.


    Kirke simply smiled fondly. He remembered Vincent¡¯s answer.


    ¡°Challenge is a choice I take,¡± Kirke parroted as he recalled. "Don''t you think that you''re not really challenging if you don''t do things head on?" Kirke asked. Vincent snickered. ¡°Now that I think about it - the quote sounds bland anyway,¡± Reese commented as she laughed. Vincent chuckled in return, although there was a slight shake in there that Kirke didn¡¯t know how to take. Though, he simply moved on. It was fine since though Vincent says he''s afraid, he''s not afraid to let that fear show. It was a trait that Kirke appreciated - the eyes say more than words, he''s learned.


    ¡°Then I too, accept that challenge,¡± Kirke swore. ¡°To bring new sights,¡± he looked at both of them, ¡°I¡¯ll lead you to each. Be my guides,¡± he requested solemnly. In his legion¡¯s eyes, they saw a new fire.


    The skies were soon clear, and though the thunder still call out from behind them, in front lay a word of possibility for Kirke. The lands across the horizon were thick with vegetation, it seems; from this distance, if the trees were already this big, it¡¯d be gigantic once they reached it.


    The first willing travelers of Ambrosia has just seen the first few acres of soil they¡¯ve seen in three years. Kirke¡¯s excitement and longing grew in his heart as he thought of people, cultures, food and events that¡¯ll take place. He¡¯s decided to be himself this time; to not be bound by rules.


    It¡¯s this spirit that would forever alter the history of Elysia.

 Chapter 2: Armunnd

    Vincent sighed. That was a few things accomplished, but there was still an important task to do. He hoped he didn''t have to do it - the earlier test against the arcadia took a lot out of him mentally. He just wanted to rest.


    The ship was moored to an anchor, inserted on the firmer, saturated side of the sandy beaches. Reese fortified it with a few more magical buffs, with a few inscriptions drawn by Vincent, too.


    ¡°What will we do about the ship?¡± Vincent threw the question specifically at Kirke, eager to witness the kind of magic that would ensure the safety of their ship. It was definitely secured in terms of location, but the ship itself was a different matter. Any kind of calamity, circumstance or greed could spell the end for it, and their way home.


    But he knew he might not be granted such a sight. As he took a pensive look towards Kirke, he saw his master¡¯s shoulders slump, and his head shake slightly. ¡°Figure something out,¡± he said before turning away.


    That would have normally been a bad first impression for a new master, but Vincent knew Kirke from way back. Vincent was only a year younger, so he had bare witnessed to much of Kirke¡¯s misadventures. It was obvious to Vincent the reason why Kirke refused to use his magic.


    Kirke wasn¡¯t Vincent¡¯s teacher, or anything like that - but there were times when Kirke would give a word of encouragement or some spark of inspiration, and that was one of the mantras which Kirke stuck to the most. Intriguing, in that he doesn¡¯t discourage magic, rather¡­


    His master believed he was not fit for magic. Cursed, even.


    Vincent was pulled out of his thoughts by a light shaking on his arms. Held by Reese, she gave a questioning look, ¡°what will we do about the ship?¡± she asked, almost mockingly. Vincent sighed; she knew he hated doing much.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just work something out,¡± Vincent relented. To be honest, he was also looking for some time to relax. If his master had decided to just deal with it then, it would have been a blast. Still, he wasn¡¯t feeling too bad about it, he¡¯d get to rest after they¡¯ve settled the ship.


    Now that he¡¯s thought about it, that arcadia was something. He¡¯s never seen so many successive lightning strikes in his life, and the thought that he needed to be up close to channel that inscription sank his heart at first. It was a task two notches more difficult than anything he¡¯s encountered. If his spell object ran amok and failed to embody Reese¡¯s conduit spell, it would¡¯ve been disaster for him.


    Facing an arcadia like that wasn¡¯t easy, in fact, Vincent was still out of his wits and unsure if he actually survived - his legs would have been shaking, had he not been practicing his whole life to keep it still. It was the closest he¡¯s ever gotten to dying; he knew Kirke wouldn¡¯t have done anything to save them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t save those who can save themselves,¡± Kirke had once said. Vincent elected to think in terms of benefits: at least, he¡¯d forget about the whole ordeal when he¡¯s occupied with work. He was a hard lord, but he would never let them face calamity alone if they could not handle it.


    ¡°Alright then,¡± Reese readily agreed. She wasn¡¯t against work like Vincent, and she actually loved to do a lot of things. Unfortunately, logistics wasn¡¯t a strong suit - she wasn¡¯t into crafting or numbers crunching of the sort¡­ what she was good at though, she was eloquent when it came to.


    They both worked on the ship for hours, with Vincent installing defense inscriptions that alerted them of movement along with a few other deadlier options, and modifying a few defense enhancements on the ship. Meanwhile, Reese created wards, which allowed particular conditional spells to take effect. Wards could last from a few minutes to indefinitely depending on the caster.


    Needless to say, Reese¡¯s wards were indefinite.


    They then worked on the teleportation ward, with Vincent creating a platform inscription and Reese supplying the spell and ward. The inscription was efficiently crafted, and allowed unperturbed transfer of mana at a great pace. This allowed the ward to last longer, and to have additional effects.


    By the time they finished work, the sun was setting.


    Kirke appeared out of nowhere; he was holding freshly cooked skewered meat. The aroma wafted and delivered a smell that reminded Vincent of civilization. He bugged out his eyes in realization and looked towards Reese, who wore a similar but more subdued expression.


    ¡°Where have you been, Master?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a town a few kilometers from here,¡± Kirke said without reserve before taking a bite.


    Vincent gulped, not only because he was hungry, but because that meant that Kirke¡¯s been in contact with other people. If there was one thing Vincent prepared for, it was the mesh of cultures they no doubt would encounter.


    ¡°Reese?¡± Vincent looked back, only to see a giggling Reese. ¡°He¡¯s bound to have done some trouble, hasn¡¯t he?¡± She grinned. ¡°I feel like visiting this town now,¡± Reese¡¯s energy was met by Kirke with enthusiasm. ¡°Great, we¡¯ll probably be there by night time,¡± said Kirke with more gusto than what was acceptable for such a sentence.


    Vincent lamented; so much for rest.


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    Reese marched with a muted spring in her step as their party approached the towering gates of Armunnd. It was the first civilization, the realization of their dream. Behind them were a vast plain stretching far as the eye can see. Beyond that were the gigantic trees with trunks that swallowed objects, much like quicksand. An arcadia called the Prison Forest, it was the first line of defense of Armunnd against invaders coming from the sea. Or so, that was how Reese saw it.


    If one could circumvent the Nirvana, they would be in the perfect position to mount a two-pronged attack; however, the existence of the Prison Forest denies that advantage. Still - their party, both Vincent and their master, ran through the forest with ease. Who¡¯s to say that there weren¡¯t others who couldn¡¯t do the same?


    It didn¡¯t have to be an army that attacks unexpectedly, and Reese was always on the lookout for such security breaches. Though, on the lookout might not be the right term to use, as she just simply understands the things she needs to understand.


    The keys to victory.


    Of course, that was a cautiousness instinctive of Reese; it wasn¡¯t as if it mattered to her what happened to this city (though that thought in itself troubles her.) What¡¯s important was that she witness any¡­ amusing events involving her master, and be there for him when she¡¯s needed. Well, she knew no one else besides Vincent and him.


    She ought to make friends, she thought to herself. She didn¡¯t think that Kirke dreamt of this journey without wanting to meet new people; his first destination was a town, so that was more than enough of a clue. Reese hoped to follow Kirke¡¯s example.


    She just hoped that this place was more civil than her opinionated country.


    The charcoal-like brick walls were draped in the sweet scent of magic, and it was thick and wide, fit for three people to rest comfortably on top of its walls. At first, she wondered how the stout walls allowed the gentle noise from inside the town to sit comfortably in the background, but she saw an enchantment for sound. This town, perhaps, was a trading city, if they were this inviting.


    But then, she also perceived a reflective barrier briefly shine a thumb¡¯s width away from the actual walls. This barrier is high-grade, and is three layers deep. Reese frowned. Would a society of peace have a need for such defenses? Heck, if it wasn¡¯t weak in comparison with her country¡¯s enchantments, she¡¯d be certain this ¡®small town¡¯ was run by warmongers.


    According to Kirke, the town was more akin to a small city, and was bustling by the time Kirke had arrived earlier. This explained his undiminished determination to make the trip even if they made it later than sundown. Whatever this city was, it is an important destination; Reese made a point to investigate further.


    Even outside, there were numerous caravans of augmented steel make rolling to a line of about fifteen carriages. Each could carry around 20 large boxes of goods, and these goods were kept a close eye on by their traders and the guards at watch. There was another line of a dozen carriages ferrying passengers, most of whom weren¡¯t disembarking, in favor of staying plopped on their comfortable seats.


    ¡°What do you think those are?¡± asked Reese, pointing at the carriages ferrying people as she patiently waited for the pedestrian line to move. ¡°Must be the passenger carriages. They have a fixed route and fare - they¡¯re a very efficient way to travel as they can become faster than horses. You can drop off at any location and ride the next route towards where you want to,¡± Vincent explained then he thought for a bit. ¡°Simply by riding these passenger carriages, you could theoretically visit most countries,¡± he concluded.


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    That gave Reese thought. That was in fact, efficient - but there was a reliance that Reese couldn¡¯t quite put in there. Maybe Vincent would know, but she¡¯d ask later. She wanted to ask Kirke if he noticed something strange. As the line drew more forward and she turned to follow, Reese felt a tap on her shoulder.


    ¡°Reese,¡± a pensive Vincent whispered to her. ¡°Aren¡¯t they a bit reliant on tools?¡±


    Suddenly, everything clicked for her. Vincent was right. On the sheaths of what she assumed were warriors or mages were swords, shields and wands; that was why Reese found it weird when she saw a carriage full of people. Goods are just simply too bulky and unnecessary to transfer with any form of magic, so that she understood. She might even say that her ¡®genius¡¯ country had a fatal oversight in that department.


    Truly a land drowned by pride. It¡¯s unfortunate how the Ambrosian Royalty values freedom; but she also understood that to be truly free, there must only be overseers; those with power but simple pleasures. She shook her head. She couldn¡¯t expect a solution from them - they weren¡¯t meant to be the solution.


    But this city of tools¡­ Is this not a city of magic?


    Then, the tension in the air was suddenly made aware to Reese. Most adventurers and gaurds were readying their hands to draw their weapons, their eyes wandering from Kirke¡¯s party to the cityfolk allies. Reese looked at her clothes, and then her master, and she almost face-palmed. Of course, they would notice - who would not?


    You could see in the way Kirke¡¯s deep-set, black eyes stare at anyone, unfitting his appearance. They were observant, attentive. They actually looked into your eyes, not around them - and for sure, anyone who Kirke notices would look at him he¡¯d lock eyes with.


    His disheveled brown hair was wavy, and his face smooth; a bit of a baby face, but no one Reese has ever met had mistaken him for a brat. He had a prominent jawline and he was built athletically, his well-developed body was hidden by the same armor Reese wore, although more loosely-fit and a murky white, while he wore a fur coat. The lands of Ambrosia are said to be frostbitten.


    He was also tall enough to be seen by most people, standing at two heads taller than Reese, who was of average height.


    She didn¡¯t like how they stared but she didn¡¯t know what to do. Did her master do something earlier?The situation must be a simple confusion, as though she was getting ready for Kirke¡¯s antics, she felt that he was good-natured at heart. He wouldn¡¯t do something to elicit this kind of defensive, would he? He¡¯s simply more resolute about a few things that¡¯ll make people belch.


    Then she looked at Vincent, his pale face ruddy and steaming. His scowl was threatening, and he grit his teeth. ¡°Find something interesting?¡± His hands were shaking; likely from the fear that his master would scold him and from the pain he¡¯s about to give.


    Vincent had a temper regarding a few things; stuff that he has a really shallow bottomline. Disrespect for Kirke was one of them.


    She had to stop him.


    Before she could continue, Kirke wrapped his arms around Vincent¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Someone as red as you would catch the eye of anyone. That¡¯s why they¡¯re called apples of the eye - they¡¯re red,¡± Kirke said convincingly, as he turned to the crowd.


    ¡°I know you find these two weird, but please don¡¯t mind them. They¡¯re good people,¡± Kirke smiled. Reese saw the people somewhat calm down, sighing and relaxing their bodies.


    ¡°Move along, you two,¡± Kirke said as he egged them forward with a grin. The line was now depleting at a quicker rate. ¡°Whatever differences and similarities we have, I don¡¯t really think it matters,¡± Kirke said, his eyes looking forward as they moved closer to the inspection booth. ¡°But that¡¯s why we can have fun with it, feel sad about it - you know, things that are taken for granted at the isles,¡± they reached the booth and he made eye contact with the guard.


    ¡°Greetings. Won¡¯t you agree that magic is to wonder?¡± Kirke asked the guard calmly, his tone both gentle and curious while his eyes seemed to peek inside the guards very soul.


    ¡°Uhh¡­¡± Confused with how to answer, the guard simply stammered. It was an unsettling experience that Reese has been through numerous times, and he should be glad he was only stammered. Reese had seen hell in those eyes - and sometimes she could feel hers burn with the same fury as well. Still, she wanted to help out.


    Reese wasn¡¯t good with individuals - so she didn¡¯t know what to do. It wasn¡¯t like Kirke was bad with people, neither - he''s just startingly open about his thoughts at times. Unsurprisingly, there were moments when they do happen at unexpected situations, like these.


    Vincent took a step forward. Reese admired that part of Vincent. He¡¯d always been a lazy scaredy-cat who happens to do a lot of things and faces a lot of fears. ¡°Magic is indeed a wonder, and he means he feels the same way as us,¡± Vincent rephrased, back to his usual anxious calm, his hand fidgeting. The guard simply nodded, a flash of familiarity lining his face as he did.


    ¡°We¡¯d like to take passage today,¡± Vincent gestured towards Reese, who raised a shy hand, and Kirke who smiled back. ¡°I¡¯m back,¡± Kirke exclaimed. Seemed like their master didn¡¯t need help with entry after all.


    The guard shook his head, waking himself out of his stupor. ¡°Oh yes, venerated healer. Thank you for returning, are they your friends?¡± the guard inquired.


    ¡°They are, can you allow them passage?¡± Kirke asked politely. ¡°Definitely,¡± the guard said with vigor. ¡°I apologize for earlier. I¡­ was a bit lost for words,¡± the guard said. ¡°It isn¡¯t something to worry about. We¡¯ll get going then,¡± Kirke said as he once again pushed the both of them forward.


    For a while there, Reese was both anxious and excited; she thought her master had done something whimsy again, but apparently not. That was the exciting part about her master. Will he be salvation?


    Or the other way around?


    As they entered the city, Reese wasn¡¯t able to give herself a moment to admire the view before she broke out into raucous laughter, earning the ire, curiosity, and shock of the passerbys. ¡°For a second there, master, I thought we¡¯d already be in trouble,¡± she said, referring to his past adventures in the Isles.


    It seems that the answer for today was his magic had been a blessing. It was wondrous, and Reese thought to celebrate by teasing him a bit. She couldn''t be that playful towards anyone else, apart from her brother and Kirke.


    Kirke laughed in return. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. I didn¡¯t come here to cause a ruckus,¡± Kirke rebutted in false offense. ¡°Did you think I¡¯d be causing trouble unknowingly?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that you¡¯d cause trouble unknowingly,¡± Vincent asked, a relief in his voice. ¡°It¡¯s just that it¡¯s not as if trouble bothers you, you¡¯d spur something knowingly if left alone,¡± he reminded. ¡°Well, I¡¯m in no rush,¡± Kirke said.


    ¡°Aww, and I was looking forward to something fun,¡± Reese said as she marveled at the view. Buildings as tall as five floors were sprawled evenly and neatly, with each building growing taller as her sights moved closer to the center of the town. On the middle was a tower that showed twelve numbers and two dials that rotated to the right. One was larger and slower than the other; meanwhile, the thinner and longer one ticked with rhythmic repetition.


    ¡°Quite a simple magic but it¡¯s impressive, don¡¯t you think?¡± Kirke asked Reese. Vincent squinted his eyes but sighed, literally unable to comprehend magic with sight alone. There were few who had the ability to appraise, and it was a trait Reese shared with their master, to a lesser extent.


    The clock tower was big and an engineering work of wonder, and the foundations of carpentry and architecture alone astounded Reese; obviously, such grand works of building construction were beyond the capacity of nomads constantly on the move, but they understood the concept, having an access to it.


    What amazed Reese was the simplicity of the inscription, to the point where even she understood how it was made (inscriptions would be foreign language to her had it not been with the help of Vincent). The mana acted as a sort of timer that triggers the forward movement of the longer dial. The shorter dial was then gradually moved by the longer dial. Judging by this alone, she recalled what it was called from her memories the books that she read from when she was young. It was a clock.


    As Ambrosians, they had a lot of books, concepts and information that originated from Elysia. They were information bought by the mercantile families of Ambrosia, and eventually spread across the country. Thus, they were well-informed about the people of Elysia - but up close, seeing how innovative they could be¡­


    It¡¯s true then, that it didn¡¯t matter that they relied on tools such as measuring time. It was fascinating that the simple thought of them creating their own path was magic to her. That was what mattered.


    Magic is indeed a wonder. She wished to explore more, reaffirming to herself that her decision in accompanying his childhood friend was food for the soul.

 Getting Acquianted

    After a few stints with figuring out where in this massive sprawl of a city where the inn was, they finally found solace in a busy street a few blocks from the giant clock the denizens called the Tower. The road was chock-full of people; loyal customers greeting their favorite storeowners, traveling merchants peddling their wares and the hustling during trade.


    The overall look of the buildings around this area was stylishly rustic. The wooden walls were slightly glossy, with large, decorated windows. There were restaurants of varying sizes, and these windows allowed the smell of their menu to drift to Kirke¡¯s nose.


    He felt excited but wanted to save the satisfaction for later. For now, he needed lodgings.


    The inn they found was huge. It¡¯s exteriors were coated with a smooth, white finish. Looking up, he could see people on top of what seemed to be a roof deck. With that in mind, he finally noticed that most buildings and houses had similar roofs. He wondered how they dealt with the rain, but magic could easily solve that in a lot of ways so he left the thought on its own.


    Entering, its large size was tantamount to the amount of guests it served. The walls were a dark, ornate yellow, while the lighting was a soft, diffused light coming from a single magical chandelier on its ceiling. There were paintings and sculptures placed neatly about the room, and a lounge that faced the reception desk. Conversation was everywhere, but the reception desk was currently serving only one customer.


    From the looks of things, Kirke could tell this was an expensive restaurant. That was one thing Kirke liked about Ambrosia; the prices of goods were cheap - but the ambrosians were aware enough to know if something was beyond normal means.


    ¡°Looking for rooms, sir?¡± the receptionist was a tall, pale woman with a small face. She smiled politely as she welcomed them, but there was a subtle look of confusion in her eyes. She kept glancing towards their clothes, but it felt as if she was looking for something else. Earlier, he also had a similar experience with most people - it wasn¡¯t surprising that when Vincent and Reese arrived, the people were also as alert and confused.


    The exact reason why though, Kirke would have to figure out.


    ¡°How much is a room for three?¡± Kirke smiled brightly, placing a hand on the desk.


    ¡°We have rooms that have up to three single beds, or two double beds available,¡± the receptionist answered promptly; a true professional, Kirke thought. ¡°Breakfast and dinner is free. We price per person, and its fifty silver each per day,¡± she explained. Kirke glanced behind him to look at Vincent. Reese simply stood and took a glance around, feeling the foreign scenery.


    ¡°About the price of a single meal,¡± Vincent revealed, looking pleased. Kirke nodded in satisfaction. Maybe this place wasn¡¯t cheap after all.


    ¡°We¡¯ll book a single room with three beds for a month,¡± Kirke decided.


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll be needing a downpayment of half the price,¡± the receptionist said. Kirke nodded and looked back to Vincent. His legion simply stared back, nonplussed. A questioning gaze replaced Kirke¡¯s glee and was soon met with a realization.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have the money?¡±


    ¡°Master, I was trying to tell you but you kept saying we had to find an inn first,¡± Vincent explained.


    Oh. ¡°Right, I did say that,¡± Kirke turned around to face the receptionist. ¡°How about I give the downpayment at the end of the month?¡± He jokingly said as he ruffled his hair. The receptionist chuckled. ¡°You see,¡± he gestured towards Reese and Vincent. ¡°These two aren¡¯t exactly from around here; fortunately, I¡¯m here to guide them,¡± Kirke said with pride. Reese was clutching her stomach in laughter, while Vincent had a resigned expression.


    ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯m not from around here either,¡± he said solemnly. ¡°But I think we can earn our keep - we just want rooms, and we¡¯ll get right to work,¡± he said. Actually, Kirke and his party didn¡¯t need rooms immediately. But they were here already, so why not try anyway?


    ¡°That isn¡¯t allowed,¡± a relaxed, gruff voice from behind Kirke replied in place of the receptionist. The receptionist bowed slightly in respect. Turning around, a man with a goatee smiled amicably at him and his party. He had a round face but he had a bony cheek. At around Kirke¡¯s height, the man was a bit chubby but was tall enough to offset it. He wore a set of brown suit and pants. A typical businessman, but the power emanating invisibly from his body was enough to clue Kirke in.


    This man was a powerful man. Maybe only two levels weaker than his legion. Not that there were ranks of the sort in ambrosia, but not just anyone could be dubbed a master of magic. In Vincent¡¯s investigations, it would seem that master sorcerers of Ambrosia are about two times more powerful than the so-called archmages of the Elysian continent.


    He¡¯d like to test them - Kirke didn¡¯t like wasted talent. But that was for another day. For now, there was this business-owner to meet. The gaze from his yellow eyes briefly locked with the void of Kirke¡¯s, before it instinctively shifted slightly away.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re the guy?¡± Kirke asked, as if in expectation.


    ¡°The guy?¡± The man wondered. ¡°I am not sure of this guy you speak of, but I am Luthier Slane, owner of the Pavilion,¡± the man extended a hand. Kirke frowned, unsure of what to do. Reese and Vincent stiffened, as perplexed, but Kirke surmised it was for a different reason. A few awkward moments later, Luthier moved on.


    ¡°So it is true that you¡¯re not from here,¡± Luthier said knowingly. ¡°And for sure, you¡¯re the guy,¡± in Kirke¡¯s mind, the guy was the first important person they¡¯ll meet in these lands. The one¡¯s they¡¯ll come back to for help (if they became friendly, of course). If this Luthier person was indeed that guy then, he was in for the ride of his life.


    Luthier laughed. ¡°If you¡¯re certain then I must be that guy,¡± he said, amused. ¡°May I ask what that is about?¡± he inquired. ¡°Sure,¡± Kirke said.


    They stood silently for a few moments before Luthier seemed to come to a realization. It¡¯s not as if Kirke didn¡¯t understand the question - he just doesn¡¯t like answering questions too broad to delve into. Not that he was into the specific details as well. It¡¯s just simply a dumb question to begin with - but Kirke knew that Luthier was being cautious about the way he spoke.


    ¡°Ah, well, there are certain characters I¡¯ve met in life¡­¡± he said that quietly, unintended to be heard but no words can escape Kirke¡¯s discerning ears. ¡°I can¡¯t let you lodge without the necessary downpayment - not even Kings have that privilege here in the Pavilion, yhat is bad business¡­ ¡± he said regretfully, though lined with a hint of professional pride. ¡°However, I¡¯m willing to hear you out. Mages of your¡­ caliber have always been good guests of my inn,¡± he said that last part hesitantly. He was unsure.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    But Kirke was the exact opposite of uncertain. He looked towards Reese and Vincent, who gave looks of understanding. They understood Kirke enough to know his quirks. His quirks didn¡¯t exactly cover simply the ¡®lighter¡¯ spectrum of things. Certainly, Kirke was aware of them - but he¡¯s not about to change something that doesn¡¯t need tweaking now, was he?


    ¡°If you will,¡± Luthier gestured for them to follow. The party was led towards the fifth floor of the inn through a shaft controlled by magic. The shaft had symbols, what Kirke assumed to represent each floor. With the press of a button, the party was elevated and shown inside the inn¡¯s penthouse.


    The penthouse was well¡­ a large training floor. It was a surprising ¡®office¡¯ for a businessman, but that must mean that Luthier considers himself a mage first. This place was warded from scrying, clairvoyance, or any type of surveillance spell. There was not a basic office or logistical tool - only weapons such as swords, spears, knives and a decent collection of armor. At least, that¡¯s only judging from Kirke¡¯s shallow knowledge of such equipment (there were only few physical tools that his land used, mostly only for tasks unsuited to pure magic, such as seafaring).


    His legion also looked at these weapons and there was a dissatisfaction in their expressions. As masters of magic, they were essentially free from these tools. Magic is the most basic foundation of the existence of Ambrosia¡¯s origins and using tools for most tasks was a sign of weakness or being unskilled. But - that could only be true for the ambrosians.


    Kirke understood that the tools the Elysian¡¯s used are not because they are impeded or crippled - it simply means they have found a path of their own, veering away from Ambrosian¡¯s own. It¡¯s a network of possibilities unheard of in Ambrosia.


    How exciting.


    Thus, Luthier was definitely the guy. Magical chairs were about to appear but Kirke raised a finger, interrupting the concentrating Luthier. Kirke sat down on the floor. ¡°Much comfier,¡± he said as he relaxed. His retinue followed suit and made themselves comfortable, although Vincent was still visibly fidgeting.


    ¡°So tell me,¡± Luthier sat down, intrigued by Kirke¡¯s mannerisms. ¡°From which land do you hail?¡± He looked towards Kirke¡¯s clothes, then to his retinue. ¡°Judging just by the way you look, these two are your¡­¡±


    ¡°Legion,¡± Kirke supplemented. ¡°Right¡­ your legion,¡± Luthier seemed to stifle a shake of his head, but wasn¡¯t able to stop putting a hand on his forehead. ¡°You¡¯re probably thinking you¡¯re confused, but we¡¯re just as - only you didn¡¯t know we were about to come,¡± Kirke said in understanding. ¡°It must be your first time seeing Ambrosians.¡±


    Luthier¡¯s confusion turned into wonder for a brief moment, before being replaced with suspected dubiousness. ¡°You are saying that you hail from a land of myths,¡± Luthier frowned. ¡°I am no greenhorn, I¡¯ve met a few characters in my life,¡± he said that as if it was the first time he said it.


    ¡°I know,¡± Kirke replied. Luthier didn¡¯t know how to respond, but simply shrugged. ¡°But even mages of your caliber should realize that making fools of the likes of me aren¡¯t exactly looked up to,¡± Luthier said, a bit threatening in his voice. Vincent stood up as an anger seemed to flood his very body. Reese only looked on but her body was ready to spring into action. Luthier grinned, probably not feeling any power coming from Reese and Vincent - and Kirke as well.


    Words are said to embody magic, magic powered by wisdom and emotion. Thus, even in the face of such rage, not feeling an ounce of strength must be a kind of salvation for him.


    ¡°That¡¯s true. And well, mages of our caliber don¡¯t exactly take each other for fools, now do we?¡± Kirke turned his head and silently commanded them to stand down. Kirke then looked back towards Luthier. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be likely - seeing as we still see a steady stream of commodities, artifacts and even fashion in our daily lives. But to find out that Ambrosians are just as sneaky and isolated as this,¡± Kirke chuckled.


    ¡°Master, so you¡¯ve figured it out,¡± Reese exclaimed meekly, both proud and disappointed she didn¡¯t get to one up her master. But of course, it wasn¡¯t a matter of skill when it came to the flow of information. Though, Kirke wasn¡¯t interested enough to fully immerse himself in the nitty-gritty, just the right amount of knowledge regarding the swing of things at the right times; he lets his intuition handle the rest.


    ¡°It is true, the crew of the juggernauts are highly skilled in many aspects such as trade and subterfuge. At least, according to reports,¡± Reese isn¡¯t good with details and is intuitive like Kirke, but unlike him, she¡¯s more than willing to try and absorb these types of information. It¡¯s simply not her strongest suit, so she chooses her battles. ¡°It¡¯s more than probable that they have a hidden hold on the Elysians than most realize,¡± Reese then gestured towards Luthier. ¡°You¡¯re probably in a position where you¡¯re close to knowing such confidential information, but not quite there yet,¡± she said that a matter-of-factly. Kirke agreed.


    Luthier however, simply smiled. ¡°Then, allow me to use the exact words you said before,¡± he spread open his arms. ¡°You¡¯re also definitely the guy. Welcome to Armunnd, I am its trustee, Luthier Slane,¡± Kirke nodded but gave a questioning glance towards Vincent.


    ¡°Yes, a trustee of the Kingdom of Lanuza is said to have full authority over the land it occupies. However, the ownership of these lands are still in the hands of the King. Unlike normal lords, the power of trustees aren¡¯t vested in their family names or prestige, but rather in their individuality, accomplishment, and trustful relationship with Lanuza¡¯s king,¡± Vincent explained. Luthier showed an impressed look.


    ¡°Precisely; because of this, I am indeed aware that you are from where you say you came,¡± Luthier revealed. Kirke looked impressed in return. ¡°So how¡¯d you figure out we were telling the truth?¡±


    Luthier raised two fingers. ¡°One, I couldn¡¯t feel anything from you even in such emotional states. Truly, a control of magic like no other - just like the myths,¡± Luthier said, a bit of childish longing in his tone. ¡°The second, you still haven¡¯t told me your names,¡± but when Luthier said that, Kirke¡¯s assessment of Luthier went up a notch.


    ¡°So that means you can let me meet this King?¡± Kirke said directly.


    Luthier¡¯s eyes went wide. Who more likely to give the necessary information they need than a King?