《Mana Whisperer》 Prologue - The Arrival In the distant countryside of East Valharden, in the air above a junction between the nearby plains and the mountain region bedecked by the canopies of massive trees, at the end of a ridge, a fissure in the fabric of time and space emerged. As this was a world built solely on an energy source to which the name ¡®mana¡¯ was given unto, it was surprising to see such destabilized dimensional matter in its domain. Here, certain humans could achieve superhuman feats, wingless flight to mention one thing, and break through the mold of normalcy. In this place, above the gushing waters separated into two steady streams by a large boulder, the very air distorted as a spatial tear began to wrench and vertically rip apart space. As the dimensional wormhole opened up, the surrounding air grew thin, sucked in as if there was a desultory siphon connected to the nothingness of space inside, void of matter and life. Every living creature in the area grew increasingly mute; a maturing deer raised its tiny head from afar, staring towards the unnatural phenomenon, its beady eyes reflecting deep-seated dread, its limbs frozen. The better part of the animals inside the forest scurried off at mach speed. From within the unnerving pit of darkness of the void inside the spatial distortion came nothing ¡ª at first. Before long, sounds of a wailing infant faintly emerged like a drowning man¡¯s futile calls, until, finally, they came as a thunderclap in the midst of the soundless environment ¡ª so sudden and piercing, indeed, that it made even the trees in the area tremble, the stems of the incipiently falling leaves wilting akin to the loss of hair in humans when met with tremendous, life-ending stress. It was in the middle of summer, yet this was a sight reserved for autumn. It was only when the infant was gently placed down onto the boulder beneath the vortex-portal by an invisible force that it fell silent, comforted by the invisible force¡¯s touch to the cheek. "My son..." Dulcet tones echoed faintly. Then, the ¡®force¡¯ dissipated, forever. Leaves fell, floating down through the area like spring petals of some significant yearly event, and as if a moth drawn to flame, a young man from the local area scouting out the outskirts of the village nearby had approached, gazing upon the diminishing spatial tear with his eyes wide open in awe at the sight. He wore lavish armor for such a desolate area in the countryside, the plated mail gleaming golden in the dim-lit shade of the forested junction between plains and mountains. The few rays of sunlight that struck his face through the canopies made him squint a few times, both out of disbelief and a natural ocular reaction to the change in the sunlight¡¯s intensity. ¡°By the twelve¡­ how has a tear in space occurred here?!¡± The youth spoke, his voice shaky, but his astonishment ended prematurely once the infant swathed in a plain red blanket entered his vision by the tip of the sabatons on his feet. Approaching with worried steps, the youth, Eustace, crouched down to scrutinize the foreign child¡¯s features and appearance. It was a simple baby, its pudgy cheeks yet to be molded by age, and tufts of dark-blue hair on a head of pure white devoid of scars or the vicissitudes of time. ¡°... Did this little guy come from¡­ that?¡± Hardly believable. His green eyes, carrying the gentleness of a field of grass, shifted between the baby and the spatial tear. It wasn¡¯t possible, right? The air it gave off felt otherworldly. The scrutiny was short-lived, however, as the vortex began to close in on itself. The world¡¯s own mechanisms began to repair the wound in its axis of space without complaint or hesitation. If he had the capacity to stomach this, surely he¡¯d have exploited this opportunity to examine the intricacies involving the spatial forces of nature! Left alone with the silent baby, Eustace found himself unable to abandon the child due to a severe case of personal principle, staring into the twinkling, innocent, purple eyes of the child with a helpless look. ¡°Hey, now, you can¡¯t just stare at me with those eyes and think I¡¯ll be charmed¡ª,¡± but the child reacted with a rub of its face with the wrist wrapped in its blanket, instantly forcing Eustace to douse a squeal stuck in his throat. He had a soft spot for adorable things, in the end; it was an uphill battle for him from the beginning. ¡°Ah, hell, whatever! You win!¡± A small curve to his lips shaped an amused smile on Eustace¡¯s face. Picking up the baby, which inadvertently began to pull at his nose and jaw, the young knight seemingly on leave or some sort of roaming trip began to wander back to the local village, fighting back the infant¡¯s infringement of private space meanwhile. Back home, little did they know that he¡¯d be bringing back a second little orphan, and a brother to boot, for them to take care of! And this one had a background even more elusive than the former two combined. Entering through the doorstep, Eustace happened upon his aunt staring at him with her lips spread apart ¡ª she had been leaning against the windowsill of the kitchen window earlier, when he jaunted into the garden with a baby in his arms much too casually for her tastes. ¡°Eustace,¡± her voice was a low croak, and her eyes gave a twitch. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me¡­¡± ¡°Yup!¡± He beamed back. ¡°I found another little kid lost in the woods! I¡¯ve got amazing luck, haven¡¯t I? I have two little brothers now, found in the exact same manner as I was when young, hahaha!¡± The aunt raised a hand to her face, palming the middle of her face, rubbing her temples for a while. In the end, she could only yield - sighing, she lifted her head to view the child in his arms. And it seemed like she had an even softer spot for little things¡­ ¡°Look at this little¡­ adorable, adorable,¡± the woman, Nessa, cooed, her voice soft, softer than cotton candy if physically measurable, ¡°adorable thing! He doesn¡¯t seem much more than¡­ two? Three years of age, too. Poor baby, to have been left out in the woods¡­ Yet another orphan joins among the townsfolk of village Gallot.¡± Eustace gave her a long look, contemplating her words. The spatial tear was a fresh memory in his mind, and it kept replaying. For some reason, he felt something was amiss ¡ª he had an ominous feeling that came from the most base animal instincts of survival. And his was off the charts amongst the human race. ¡°Right, I¡¯ll leave him in your care, then. How¡¯s that spry rascal, Gilthunder?¡± Eustace¡¯s eyes turned gentle at the thought of his younger brother ¡ª an infant smaller than even this spatial tear-baby ¡ª found in a very similar fashion. In response, Nessa¡¯s lips curved up sharply, her eyes teasing, ¡°Look at you, so doting on these oddballs appearing out of nowhere.¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Her timbre was by no means reprimanding. ¡°Haha, sorry, Auntie. It¡¯s a principle thing¡ª¡± Before he could clarify, the very core of the planet seemed to tremor, attempting to shake something off its back, as the silver and glass wares in their small home began to rattle and sway. A few glasses fell down the kitchen table, splintering into thousands of pieces. Eustace had already grabbed Nessa and stabilized her, for she held the baby wrapped in red, unable to cope with such external stimulus on her lone. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous inside! I¡¯ll go get Gilthunder!¡± Eustace shouted through the rumbling sounds of the earth tearing apart. It felt no different from the end of times, and it wouldn¡¯t be surprising for the more religious inhabitants in the tiny village comprising only three blocks of houses ¡ª gardens, really, as they were all fed by their daily agricultural work ¡ª to kneel down and implore the heavens to have mercy upon them. The tremors grew increasingly intense, and a fracture spread through the main beam supporting the stability of the house. With a shaky foothold and a reeling mind, Nessa and Eustace, one older and one younger, fought their way outside, an infant wrapped in a red blanket in her arms and another wrapped in blue in his arms. They had no time to fetch their personal belongings ¡ª it was much too late! The moment Nessa stepped out of the house, it caved in on itself. Eustace managed to scarcely jump through the various falling stones and beams and splintered woods, shielding the babe in his arms with his upper body, landing outside safely with an unharmed baby brother. Luckily, he was almost an Empyreal Knight, stuck at a bottleneck to ascension. Gazing at the debris and aftermath, after heaving a sigh of relief, Nessa turned to look at Eustace whose entire body appeared stiff ¡ª something in the distance caught the attention of the young knight, and as she turned her head, a bad feeling began to nest itself in her stomach. And, then, Nessa¡¯s premonition came true. In the distance hovered three figures, the appearance of each so grotesque that her heart skipped a beat; an aura of unprecedented strength surrounded each figure, eclipsing even the young man¡¯s already very lively presence of ¡®mana¡¯ beside her. The outlines of these figures were humongous, several stories long and tall as a rough estimate; their faces appeared beastly, each a variation of the cardinal animals: feline, mammal and avian. A lion-like chimera blended with the bloodline of dragons, as if in jest; a minotaur with rippling, bulging muscles; and a garuda-like creature with razor feathers. All three winged ¡ª one pair leathery, another fleshy and a third sharply feathered ¡ª floating gently up and down in the air in a rhythmic, synchronous manner. Behind them, a tall, glossy, spire made of a building block of stone with a surface so immaculate it gave off a reflection of the world ¡ª or, perhaps, it was soil? ¡ª sprouted from the ground. For some reason, when Eustace gazed into the surface of the spire, he saw a crisp reflection of the world bathed in flames and death, the buildings behind him set aflame and razed down to the ground. When he looked back, the world was as he knew it, unsettled yet peaceful. Following the spire came a tower of runic stone, which was as wide in diameter as the village itself, blotting out the sky, but, fortunately, it only uprooted the very outskirts of the northern part of the small hamlet. It would hardly surprise Eustace if even the most seasoned carpenter or stonemason, or both combined, could not assess the material used to construct such a tower. Soon, it ceased its eruption, the tremors inadvertently following suit, coming to an eerie, sudden stop once the front gates were revealed, heralding a silence that was suffocating. Upon the gates, seemingly made of steel yet the senses foretold of imperviousness unmatched, the image depicting an angel and a wingless creature with two horns on its head on each side, on the verge of clashing with one another, was engraved. The spire itself pierced the clouds, the entire structure seemingly grabbing the heavens in a show of arrogance. As the reading of energy he got from this tower sent his senses reeling, he felt fear penetrating deep down into his bone marrow, a kind of feeling that had not occurred to him ever since he had encountered the wielder of the blade of darkness. Nay, this was leagues beyond that, something a human could not recreate. Swallowing the spittle in his mouth, hard, he glanced aside, ¡°Nessa, take the kids away. Far, far away. In fact, go to the major town closest by, or the capital if you can! Seek out Captain Greymane of the Empyreal Watch.¡± There was no room for discussion in his voice. It was an order, and the glint in his eyes as he looked at her told her enough of the severity of the situation. Nessa did not shovel through the debris in search of any of the vestiges of their old home or personal belongings, for she always carried their money on her person and that was enough. She took to the road minutely, holding both infants in each arm! Soon, after traversing quite a distance away from the little hamlet surrounded by forests, she heard loud noises from behind her, glancing back to see the vague outline of four figures in the air, one small tangling with three large. Her heart sunk, but she was powerless - and, then, she involuntarily gave a cry as she saw the small figure plummet to land after meeting an attack of all three of its foes simultaneously! The beastly vociferations were more than several miles away, yet she could hear them so crisply, as though they were emitted right beside her ear. She wiped away her tears, clutching Gilthunder tighter in the gesture. Hushing at the children, who both began to whimper ¡ª whether because they could feel the danger and grief emitting from her, she could not determine ¡ª Nessa brought the foreheads of both close, giving each one a deep kiss. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯ll be fine!¡± Perhaps it was said to comfort herself. She had known that young knight since he was a little babe, after all. She was torn, whispering to no one in particular, ¡°You better live, Eustace!¡± Chapter 1 - Gryswold City Chapter 1 - Gryswold City The fields outside Gryswold City extended into the distance like a prairie of wheat and greens, culminating towards the gates where encampments had been set up to provide shelter to those seeking entry into safer walls, rather than spending more time in an open hazard. Dusk was settling onto the land, and light fled to one side of the world, darkness arising from the other. A fire crackled in the midst of a downtrodden, weary group of shady-looking individuals, the jumping embers stoked by a fully robed, hooded figure whose face was illuminated by the burning light, while the horses around gave a few wheezes, bordering an occasional cry. Several tents spanned the plaza outside the dark-grey walls, of old stone from a time bygone. The road in between the fields seemed as though a split in the middle of a man-made harmony, a preordained path for any to walk, only to reach Gryswold City. The snap of a twig brought to attention a figure on the road, shrouded partially by the coming dusk. She wasn¡¯t a sight for sore eyes, but the tedium of a long travel was visible in how she walked, ambling almost, with a pair of infants bundled in strips of leather and furs, rather than the less heat-insulant cloth from weeks prior. The season was on the cusp of winter, thus it was for the best, though she stowed everything within the small backpack she procured recently for later use. This was Nessa, of the Eques bloodline, a once noble family of knights passed down now to orphans like the ones in her arms. Not that she didn¡¯t already consider them both her own. Conjointly, the dark-blue haired and the crimson-haired infants leaned against the woman¡¯s stout form snuggly, at complete comfort and blissful sleep. Unlike her, they weren¡¯t as worse for wear, but it was obvious by the grime on their once milky skin and the tiny hints of a frown on the middle of their brows that they weren¡¯t in the best of conditions. Children at the age of three did not fare well on solely oat porridge, after all, and a lack of vitamin certainly was no help. The one stoking the fire, a long-browed foreigner with swarthy skin, raised a brow, lifting his head to gain a better visual--and by proxy gain Nessa¡¯s sharp-witted attention. ¡°Another one,¡± he remarks, in his baritone, husky voice that suggested unmatched experience on the road--and its dangers. By his side lay two, black-edged scimitars against the tree stump where several similar warriors sat seated. ¡°There haven¡¯t been as many migrants as these days, lately, due to the sudden appearance of those towers,¡± he adds, engaging in conversation quite naturally, whereas Nessa had scruples with responding to a stranger as she stood by the road, facing the road further down the slope to the gates currently filled with a throng of people. Her head turns towards the man with skin darker than ink, age making it fold and seem akin to soot. The campfires spread about in each encampment lit up the moonless dark like massive beacons, giving rise to a pattern of rhythmic crackles of embers that reflected the sobriety in the air. ¡°¡­what do you mean?¡± She sends back, hoisting up the small Gilthunder in her right arm to set his arrangement into a more comfortable position. ¡°It¡¯s an unsolved mystery,¡± he quickly replied, eyes wide open in a sudden blink. ¡°We¡¯ve seen countless platoons of Valharden Knights and soldiers leave Gryswold City. Our questions go unanswered.¡± For a foreigner, he was quite well-spoken, and more outspoken than she liked. Nessa pursed her lips, appearing grim while in thought. Her eyes grew slightly misty once the image of Eustace flashed through her mind, but she quickly shook it off, taking a seat by a free spot on the four tree stumps placed around the fire in a square. Surrounded by a backdrop of tents, the flames cast their shadows in a subdued, tame dance across the green leathers and bound ropes covered by night meant to temporarily provide lodgings to all refugees by courtesy of the city regent. ¡°Eat,¡± the leader of the scimitar wielders said, his troop of four divided equally on each side of their head honcho on their bench adjacent to hers; in his hand a loaf of bread was extended towards her. ¡°¡­We don¡¯t get to do it often.¡± Not one to shy away from the kindness of others, Nessa takes ahold of it, looking into his dark eyes. ¡°I appreciate it¡­¡± Her gaze falls onto the children currently on each side of her lap, partly on the makeshift bench of felled oak, partly resting their heads against her black leather leggings, softly padded. Unlike conventional--or would the word traditional be better?--women, she was dressed as a warrior, always decked out in leather to accommodate her style of gear. It didn¡¯t hide her stout, well-built figure, however, on the well-fed side, though it isn¡¯t as much as it used to be. For she gave the loaf of bread to the children resting against her lap--chewing on it by the mouthful to macerate it with her spit, which made for easier consumption. Harsher times were around the corner, and everyone present in the refugee camp were exemplary examples. ¡°You said even the Knights of Valharden had gone out to investigate?¡± Nessa¡¯s inquisitive eyes shine a pale green in the light of the campfire towards the scimitar-wielder, a question in her gaze. ¡°Yes...however, they don¡¯t return. They only send more, and some more. It¡¯s really puzzling. Since you¡¯ve come to Gryswold, it must mean you¡¯ve felt the energy emitted from those towers, no?¡± She nodded. There was a tacit understanding between them, by virtue of their senses, that allowed her to asseverate the other as an individual awakened to the power of mana. ¡°They say it¡¯s a relic of the past--from the High King who unlocked the magic of angels, reality magic. Impossible dangers roam those towers, they say.¡± While she doused the surprise building up in her chest, breathing sharply, Nessa stared at him, lifting an eyebrow, but spoke no words. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°I¡¯m Alemid, and you?¡± He asked. One of his men gave her a long look, but she didn¡¯t pay attention to it. The other three were roasting some game they had hunted from the forest on twigs over the fire. For some reason, she felt as though they knew more than they let on. ¡°Nessa.¡± The gates of Gryswold suddenly shook, the portcullis slowly grinding its way up, revealing an entrance into the city. A quorum of knights in golden mail stepped out in perfect synchrony, marching up the uphill road past the camps. Every gaze was upon them, but Nessa noticed an old knight in silver step out a short moment after. He stood in front of the gate like an impassable wall condensed into the shape of a human, but the kindness in his eyes was indubitable. While the march of the Knights in golden filled the area with the sound of clamoring metal--the mesh of their armor and boots playing a tune of cold steel in motion--the old man began to cough. It was a low sound. Yet, it drew the attention of each and every single person in the few five tents scattered about the gate entrance, as if the old man¡¯s breath alone had an allure they couldn¡¯t ignore. The brief daze ends for them all, and they couldn¡¯t help but feel a pressure that was nowhere to be found around the silver knight. This was magic¡ªa tacit agreement that was mutual for those capable of magic amongst the congregation of refugees. He was unpredictable, like a maze without end, ever-changing in nature. ¡°I am the commander of the Gryswold militia, Ainsworth, good friends from faraway lands, my compatriots, and those that can¡¯t be counted amongst the former two groupings.¡± He begins, stepping forth, overtly pleased by the silence. ¡°The regent has noted the sudden influx of refugees, and we¡¯ve come to a decision¡ª¡° his unfocused, blue eyes suddenly sharpened with a sweep across the area. ¡°Depending on usefulness and necessity, we¡¯ll allow entrance...and of course potentially becoming a citizen, yes.¡± However, as he finished looking through the various camps, an emergence of veins suddenly began to protrude at his temples; snapping his head towards the danger that he sensed, his steel-blue eyes land on Nessa after it had abruptly vanished from roughly where she sat. ¡°What an interesting young lady; a compatriot to boot.¡± He yells, unaware of his oversight. The nearby Alemid merely smiles to one side, tilting his head to let his cowl shade his face from the light of the fire. ¡°Come, come,¡± the old knight gestures for her to come hither. ¡°Allow me a closer look.¡± Picking up the two toddlers, she doesn¡¯t waste much time to approach, albeit unwillingly. Her steps were wary, and the way she looked at Ainsworth was rife with suspicion. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± While calm on his exterior, the old commander was mystified. ¡®How strange. I can¡¯t feel that threat anymore, and she isn¡¯t capable of producing such strength.¡¯ He noted the children in her arms, letting his sense sweep past both. A playfully delighted expression had his eyebrows lift up, dancing almost. ¡°These are some¡­interesting children you¡¯ve got.¡± He could feel mana beyond their years from them--and a toddler born with such was a rarity seldom seen. And here, two such rare gems had appeared in front of him. It made him instantaneously decide that they could prove useful in the future. For a moment, the old man stared long at the fur-wrapped Gilthunder and his portal-borne fellow infant. The former of the two infants almost seemed to be glaring back at the old commander. This was a great catch, he thought. The saying went that magi - usually knights of vocation - possessed the ability to sense what they shouldn¡¯t be able to. As all creatures were surrounded by ¡®energy¡¯, whether projected by themselves or by the natural world was a topic still often debated fervently within scholarly circles, there were also traces of an individual¡¯s ¡®emotions¡¯ and current mental state left within a subconscious aura. This old knight, however, wasn¡¯t quite at that level. To truly decipher emotions would require abilities on par with a Paladin-ranked individual ¡ª someone theoretically equal to the Knights of the Round from yore, at the peak of human power. ¡°Are you going to let us in, or not?¡± Nessa was not willing to stand around and expose the children to scrutiny from an old knight, breaking his bubble quite suddenly. The fact that she could not see through even an iota of his power did not help relieve her cautious nature. ¡°Oh, yes, I have a job offer for you¡­can¡¯t live in Gryswold without money, after all.¡± His smile was lipped and welcoming, but it made her hair stand on end. ¡°¡­Speak.¡± ¡°There¡¯s an old man who is in need of a caretaker. He lives in the Purple Courtyard district. It¡¯s sort of hard to take care of him without being capable of magic--which you seem perfectly capable of, no?¡± This surprised many of the people in the other camps, and some had faces green with envy. Unlike Nessa, they knew what it meant. The Purple Courtyard district housed the wealthiest individuals in Gryswold, after all. Ainsworth knew of her suspicions--he could virtually feel it--but he also knew he had the upperhand. ¡°Lodgings, food, everything is taken care of, yes. What say you?¡± Nessa couldn¡¯t help but glance back towards Alemid. He responded with an encouraging smile, while one of his men whispered into his ear subsequently, catching an occasional sideways glance at the old Knight. Her gaze falls back to Ainsworth. ¡°Fine.¡± After all, beggars can¡¯t be choosers. Chapter 2 - Departure The dark of night in the streets of Gryswold City illuminated by the dancing light of various torches and lamps scattered across the various buildings was a sight for sore eyes when Nessa wasn¡¯t. A majority were made of stone. On the way, Nessa did not speak much to the old Ainsworth. She occupied herself with thoughts on how to reach the capital from the eastern outskirts of the entire continent. In this region, a place separated from the rest of the Valharden continent by the East Marsh, she recalled that the most influential group was a coalition of scholars under the banner of an organization called ¡®The Society of Scholars¡¯. Beyond Gryswold, a few dozen kilometers west near the bog waters of the East marsh, lay erupted the city of Haine, home to the headquarters of all the scholarly circles. Yet, she could not bring these two infants with her, could she? Nessa shook her head. ¡°¡­Surely, you must have some questions for me, no?¡± Ainsworth walked through Gryswold city¡¯s uniquely named ¡®core street¡¯--a walkway that seemed to connect to all roads--with his hands folded behind his back, stealing a glance over his shoulder at his company. What he thought was a charming smile she interpreted as a slimy smirk. Nessa still held the toddlers in her arms, protective in terms of body language. This much even he could infer and quite easily at that. While they were seemingly roughly two to three years old, easily capable of walking by themselves, she had never allowed them to detach from herself, whether before or now. Both never spoke, staring at her with wordless curiosity, simultaneously. However, only Gilthunder seemed to possess a spark of intelligence in his eyes from among the two. ¡°That¡¯s a given.¡± Her inflection had been remote from the onset. Having a duo of toddlers constantly stare at her did not help her maintain a strong front, however. ¡°I sort of can¡¯t exactly understand why you¡¯re hiring my services for this ¡®old man in need of a caretaker¡¯, but I¡¯ll leave that be for now. We¡¯re inside the City already, after all--you won¡¯t just throw me out unceremoniously at this stage, even if he doesn¡¯t take us in, right?¡± For once, Nessa¡¯s frosty exterior broke with the light of humor; a small curl at the corners of her mouth made sure to convey that. Besides, she could question someone in the know about a few gripes she sought to resolve. Ainsworth¡¯s smile did not budge, but he halted, pausing with a middling stare at her. It did not take much for him to process a response. ¡°Right.¡± ¡°What¡¯s his identity?¡± She inquired, but noncommittally. ¡°Headmaster of Gryswold Academy; his name is Ainsworth, too. Yes, that¡¯s my brother, Zachariah Ainsworth, one of the key individuals in terminating the undead threat twenty years ago. My full name is Edward Ainsworth, for the record.¡± The name didn¡¯t register amongst the people Nessa knew, but that didn¡¯t undermine the solemn look on her face. ¡°It¡¯s just around the corner,¡± Edward added. The gates of the mansion came with a rather humbly styled fence drawing a square that girdled the entirety of the land upon which the old fellow in need of a caretaker lived. Inside, behind the bars of steel enhanced by runes, were shrubs, vegetation and miniature cliffs. The total area it occupied could easily fill at least five standard houses, and that was merely the slot delegated to a single resident in the Purple Courtyard district. Mansions of varying style spanned the entire residential area, but it was incomprehensibly massive; each with durable, secure walls, further isolated from the world outside through various formations of engraved runes. Runes, often engraved on mana stones, had the ability to make use of the mana in the air, the power of the world itself, and were virtually self-subsistent and without an expiration date applied to their lifespan, save for when external trauma offsets their structure. Only this single, lone yet homely abode possessed no such flair or extravagance; there was only the calm, vastness of nature radiating from beyond the cold steel that separated Nessa and Ainsworth from its interior once they arrived at the gates. Before Ainsworth could knock on the gates with the dragon-shaped doorknocker, the gates parted almost unnaturally, and the shrill, consistent screech of its hinges caused Nessa to wince. ¡°Edward,¡± an old voice said, before the torch hanging on the side of the gate wall shed light upon an old, white-bearded man in simple, pale blue robes standing in the middle of the gateway. ¡°Big brother. It¡¯s been a while,¡± the old, silver knight replied dapperly. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± Though it didn¡¯t take long for someone as well-versed in the arcane as him to register the tiny, but noticeable amount of mana from the children in Nessa¡¯s arms. ¡°Ah, you found more children with high, innate mana?¡± His voice held a natural aloofness to it, but the arch of his brows conveyed a pleasant surprise. His old, gentle gaze alternated between Nessa¡¯s eternally hard stare and the blinking curiosity in the eyes of the two toddlers. ¡°This is good.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Not in Nessa¡¯s ears, but the scene behind her persuaded her sufficiently. A pack of children, all of different ages, had appeared from behind the shrubs, the doors and windows of the mansion, peeking their heads out at the new arrivals. ¡°This- This is¡­¡± ¡°Ah, he didn¡¯t tell you, yet?¡± Zachariah gave his brother a displeased look, to which the recipient snickered without a morsel of remorse on his face. ¡°I take children with awakened mana under my tutelage; these are the exceptional ones that have entered my academy.¡± She was speechless, but the infants in her arms suddenly began to resist her hold on them. ¡°Alright! Relax.¡± Nestled in their furs, she let them off on the ground, to which they darted past the old Zachariah towards the children hiding by the shrubs. They appeared like miniature savages, and they acted like ones, for their first move was to grab one of the children and throw them into the artificial lake nearby. The victim screamed all the way over. This made Zachariah speechless in turn. ¡°A rowdy pair.¡± He appeared unsure, but Nessa is quick to cut him short. ¡°Can I trust you to take care of them, then?¡± From first impression alone, she felt safe in doing so. Eustace¡¯s potential demise left her restless, and giving them a better future worked in their best interest. ¡°Of course.¡± Zachariah nodded, in his own unique, languid way. Nessa paused for a long time, and neither of the brothers interrupted her. They could see the hesitation in her eyes as they fell to the ground. ¡°You seem riled up by something--a purpose rests in your gaze,¡± Zachariah chimes in eventually. ¡°It¡¯s best you solve any issues that have cropped up. As for Edward¡¯s so-called job offers, take it with a grain of salt. There¡¯s no need for maids when the children can be disciplined with chores. The two boys will still be here regardless of how long you take. This is a home, not a business, after all.¡± With a final nod, she stepped through the gateway towards Gilthunder and her still unnamed boy. ¡°Gil and¡­ Julian. Julian shall be your name,¡± she begins, to which the portal-borne infant reacts with a stare of its wide eyes into her crestfallen, emerald gaze. ¡°You two¡ªcan you promise your aunt that you¡¯ll be good and stay here?¡± Only Gilthunder nodded, as Julian cocked his head to the side, confused by words. She laughed at Julian, and ended with a smile at Gilthunder. Reaching out, she embraced both. After a short while, she let go, taking off a necklace around her neck usually concealed under the collar of her leather breastplate. Holding the simple, gleaming jewelry in her left hand, she used the other to fetch out a small ring from her satchel with the other. ¡°This used to belong to my mother, Eliana Eques.¡± She held out the necklace, neatly latching it around Gilthunder¡¯s neck, clipping it on. ¡°And this was my father¡¯s, Dupre Eques¡¯, ring of betrothal to my mother.¡± It was connected to a chain, which she coiled around Julian¡¯s neck. ¡°You two are now the next generation of the Eques clan!¡± Behind them, Zachariah couldn¡¯t help but feel a recoil from her statement--old men typically knew old families, even the ones fallen from grace. Deciding to sweep it under the rug, he merely coughs. ¡°Fate is truly unpredictable, but are you sure you wish to give them that name...?¡± Nessa gave him a sideways glance, but it was cursory, shifting back to the two children. ¡°I hope you two grow up well, alright? I¡¯ll be back before you even know it, haha,¡± she laughed feebly, the tone of her voice pained. She stood up, but Gilthunder had laid his tiny hand on her thigh, staring up at her with his trademark glare. ¡°Gil¡­¡± Reaching down, she stroked his cheek, before gently pulling his hand off to create a distance between them that neither could bear to see. She looked away. Frozen in her steps, she doesn¡¯t know how, but she managed to walk up to the old Zachariah. ¡°The answer to your question is...it depends on you.¡± And then she left through the gate, leaving behind a teary-eyed Gilthunder and a Julian staring at the former with a flummoxed, wide-eyed look, as if he couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. Zachariah looked on solemnly as she disappeared around the corner--the torch on the gate wall swayed forlornly, a dejected silence following her leave. The children at the manor¡¯s front had long retired to their own devices. ¡­and so, three years pass in relative quiet, the ripples across the High Kingdom coming to an eerie, sudden halt. ¡°Gil! Gil!¡± A voice of light, unaged tones screeched. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Zachariah bitterly shouted. Gilthunder ran around the garden at the front of the manor with an expensive-looking vase in hand. Both of the Eques boys were dressed in shorts and shirts of decent make. Zacharia seemed to have gotten a few additional wrinkles to his currently creased forehead.