《A Mage's Path {Interactive Quest!}》


 1: A Mages Choice

    "It wasn''t my fault!" I shout behind me as I clutch the stolen card to my chest and sprint around the corner. Spells slam into the wall behind me, sending chips of stone flying. "Just stop, I can explain!"


    They don''t stop. My body knew they wouldn''t; I''m still running at full tilt. No part of me really believes there''s any way out of this. My one hope is that I can run long enough and far enough for them to forget.


    The warm fire of the card against my heart is proof they won''t.


    Merien, I swear, you are dead. If you''re not out of the city already, you better get running, because this is not something I can sweep under the rug.


    No more excuses this time. I don''t care what he''s gotten himself mixed up in and I don''t care how he tries to justify it. Some things you just don''t do.


    I grab at the wall as I careen around another corner, not a moment too soon. I''m only three steps away when a fireball splinters the wood facade, setting fire to the fragments as they fly in all directions.


    Almost to the main thoroughfare now. I glance down at the card. Another two hundred twenty-three heartbeats to full charge. With how frantically mine''s pounding I''d have expected it to be filled already.


    The second''s glance already wasted several, so I press it back to my chest and look up--


    Just in time to slam full-on into a passing merchant''s mechanical horse. I bounce off the copper and gold contraption and next thing I know I''m on the ground with half my face numb and my skull throbbing like my brain''s trying to burrow out the back of it.


    The man seated atop the contraption stares down at me. I can''t tell his expression, but it''s probably either avarice or disinterest. There''s no other reason for anyone like him to pay attention to someone like me.


    "You shouldn''t try that without a resonator," is what he says instead, and tosses me a small glass and copper cube, like an oversized die with a round opening on one side and angular patterns carved deep into the glass on each of the other faces.


    Before I finish examining the thing and look up, his steed has already clip-clopped its way into the crowd.


    "There he is! Grab him!"


    I scramble to my feet and dive into the crowd. Something wraps around my waist and tugs me back sharply.


    I''m overbalanced. I slam flat to my back, breathless for the second time in under a minute. The cube slips from my hand and bounces away across the stone as the cord drags me away, back into the alley.


    I don''t dare look at the card again. I''m counting heartbeats, pulsing in my head, roaring in my ears. It has to be getting close. It has to be getting close...


    Someone grabs the back of my shirt and hauls me to my feet, then slams me against the wall. The thick coil around my waist snaps to it like a magnet, holding me tight with no way to escape.


    "It wasn''t me," I protest breathlessly. The card remains pressed to my chest. Please... "It''s not what you think."


    The man standing in front of me is tall and thin, and his arms and legs have the faintly metallic hue that implies augmentation from birth. He''s holding a spellbook in one hand, casually held open with a thumb as it hangs at his side, and has his other raised in command to the two men with him. They''re shorter, only a little taller than me, and heavier. They''re not even out of breath from our little chase, and I''m gasping like a beached fish.


    "Hmmmm." He leans forward, takes a step toward me. Between one blink and the next, a set of spectacles with mismatched lenses appears on his face. The right side is clear, showing the jade-green of his eyes, while the other is like a window into an endless well, a swirling curtain of blue stars and silver fog.


    I flinch back against the wall, but I can''t look away.


    "I believe you." He sounds surprised. He gives a twitch of a headshake and the spectacles vanish as suddenly as they appeared. "So you''re an unsuspecting pawn in all of this, are you?"


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    I nod.


    "You have no idea what you''re holding, do you?"


    I hesitate, glance down at the card. It''s written in Highenish, which I don''t know how to decipher, but the countdown at the bottom and the central image are easy enough to understand. Only 18 heartbeats to go, but I can''t imagine he''ll let me charge it any further. "A shield?" I hazard.


    "Not just a shield. The shield."


    "I''m sorry. I''d give it back if I could."


    "You don''t need to apologize. You''re as much a victim in this as them." He jerks his head to indicate his pair of cronies.


    They look at him, then each other, confused.


    In the moment their attention leaves him, his fingers twitch. Twin fireballs blast out from his spellbook and incinerate the pair in a burst of heat and conflagration that makes me flinch. The stone behind me heats up uncomfortably, even through my clothing. The ground is melted into a pair of rapidly-cooling puddles of lava.


    "Fortunately," the man continues, as though he didn''t just kill two people right in front of me, "you are a lot more valuable than they could ever dream."


    I swallow uneasily. I should answer, but words escape me. He just killed his underlings. Right in front of me. Without pause. For no reason. Who is this man? I glance back at the busy thoroughfare at the other end of the alley.


    He follows my gaze and laughs. "No one cares. Even if they saw, no one would do anything. You are mine now." A twitch of his hand, the invisible cord around my waist tugs me closer to him, and he lowers his voice and leans in close, so there''s no chance of being overheard. He presses the card back against my chest, eyes boring into mine as each of the eighteen remaining heartbeats pass. "This is your one choice."


    The card goes hot and soft under my fingertips, like I''m holding a half-cooked omelet. I have to use both hands to keep the card from slipping away. It''s not solid any more, it''s a puddle of liquid. My eyes dart to the fallen resonance cube, suddenly grasping what its purpose must be. It''s way too far away for me to reach, all the way at the mouth of the alley.


    "You can surrender this power, release it back to the aether, and I will bring you to the Enuvai to pass their judgment on you. You can give them your story, but I see no future in which they show mercy on one who has destroyed the sanctity of their succession game."


    I shiver and shake my head. He''s not wrong, but the fact that he''s framing this as a choice has my mind racing to think of what the alternative could be.


    He only continues to watch me, waiting. He''s going to make me ask. Bastard.


    "What''s the choice?" My voice is hoarse, barely recognizable as my own, and dull with resignation. I knew the moment I unwrapped the card that the Enuvai would kill me for it. The only question is how long and painful the path is to that end. "You want me to lie to them for you?"


    "No. The other option is that I lie to them for you." He reaches out and closes my hands over the warm pool of liquid power. "Take it. Hold it. Embody it. Your life is forfeit and you know that as well as I do." He flicks his fingers toward the alley mouth and the resonance cube lifts itself from the ground and zips over to his waiting hand. He holds it out to me. "I will arrange for you to live somewhere far away, where the Enuvai cannot reach you. In return, you will swear to serve me and protect my house''s interests. Travel where you will, but any time you see my mark, you will go to that person and offer your service. I do not care who or what. If they refuse you, you are not obliged to press them, only make the offer."


    I''m not sure I can believe what I''m hearing. "You want to sponsor me to leave the city?"


    "I am offering to buy your life. Call it what you will. It will serve my interests regardless of how you title it."


    I look down at the cube held out toward me. Then the man''s other hand, still holding the spellbook that he used to melt two men instantly into ashes buried in liquid stone.


    It is no choice at all, and we both know it, but I find myself desperately grateful for the facade of dignity it grants me. And perhaps another man would have chosen to do what the Temple would demand, release the stolen power and atone for its transgression, but I know better than most that doing what the Temple demands serves only them. It would earn me no favors and end with me just as dead.


    "I accept." I tilt my cupped hands, allow the liquid power to fill the resonance cube. It fits perfectly. The icon of the shield floats on its surface, and the text that was on the card''s top now surrounds the circular opening. But though the cube is tilted, the power within doesn''t slant like normal liquid, but remains suspended perfectly in its center. I turn it this way and that, and even holding it fully upside-down the shield card doesn''t fall. I look up at him and find he''s backed away to the other side of the alley. "I don''t know what this mark of yours looks like."


    He doesn''t answer. "What field do you wish to pursue?" he asks instead.


    "Field?" Things are happening so fast, I don''t even know how to react any more. It feels like everything is distant and blurred. Uncertain. I just can''t figure out what he''s asking.


    "Of magic. You hold an unsealed card of Gold rank. You will need to choose a vessel and a path. I can find you a teacher, but the decision of what to study must be yours."


    <hr>

 2: Options

    I stare down at the golden cube in my hand, then up at the man who will turn this disaster from a death sentence into a path to power. I swallow and shake my head. ¡°How am I supposed to choose, I don¡¯t know¡­¡± anything about magic. The admission sticks in my throat.


    I know the six classes, of course, everyone knows them. I know their colors, the identifying marks. I know to avoid the stiff-collared sorcerers and not to try to steal from black-sleeved enchanters.


    What I do not know is anything that could help me choose between them. They are all so far above me, so foreign to a low ranking thief and part-time courier that he may as well have pointed to High Hill and asked me which of the palaces I¡¯d prefer.


    Being offered any one of them would be overwhelming, but I¡¯d at least know how to say ¡®yes.¡¯ Being given a choice is paralyzing.


    I glance up at the hunter, but he bears no identifying marks. Only the book, which is a common enough artifact for any class. He¡¯s probably an elementalist.


    ¡°You have¡­¡± he leans forward and stares deep into the cube with its molten card within. ¡°Four days. If you do not decide by then, the card will make its own choice. It will take me at least a day to arrange an appropriate teacher.¡± He glances around, up and down the alley, before continuing in a softer tone. ¡°You are already marked by this power. You understand that neither of us has any choice here? To leave you alive will cost me dearly, and the longer you choose to run around this city in plain sight the harder it will be to convince them. If you do not want to follow through, tell me.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± I swallow again, clear my throat. I¡¯ve never been so terrified in my life, the past hour has been unrelenting panic, even speaking is a struggle. Every instinct in my body wants me to run, now that I¡¯m no longer restrained, but I¡¯ve seen what this man can do. There¡¯s nowhere I can escape fast enough. If he wants me dead, I¡¯m dead. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die.¡±


    ¡°Then choose a vessel class. I will get you away from the city before anyone can find you.¡±


    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡±


    He points to the cube. ¡°That card is bound to you, whether you use it or not. A gold rank. In the hands of someone outside the Succession. I would be a fool to ignore it.¡± He glances me over, then looks both ways down the alleys again. ¡°We can¡¯t stay here much longer. That¡­¡± he taps the cube, ¡°is going to attract attention sooner than later.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t take it? Hide it somewhere?¡± I hold it out to him. ¡°I don¡¯t need it. Never wanted it.¡± If I didn¡¯t have it, if I¡¯d never touched it, all of this would be easier. I could forget about it, go back to scrabbling for existence in peace. The understreets is a chaotic life, unpredictable, but reliable. As long as I did what I was told and stole enough on the side, I¡¯d survive. Stepping into the realm of card-holders and mages is a vast, terrifying unknown.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I cannot,¡± he answers. ¡°Once it chooses its owner, that decision cannot be changed. The card can be destroyed, the wielder broken, but that card¡¯s ownership can not be transferred.¡±


    My eyes flick to the book at his side. ¡°How many cards do you have?¡±


    It¡¯s at least two, maybe three, depending on whether the blade attack and fire attack were different from the one he used to incinerate the two guards with him or if that was the same fire card.


    Even that already makes him the most powerful mage I¡¯ve ever seen. The top enforcers each have one¡ªone is enough to catapult you to the top strata of the organization. Wielding power over others, rather than subject to the whims of those fortunate enough to get their hands on an unbound card. Rumor says the boss has three, but that hasn¡¯t been verified.


    ¡°Seven. One copper. The fire spell you saw. The rest are iron rank.¡±


    I swallow. Copper. No wonder he was able to instakill them. I may not know how the actual spell classes work, but everyone knows rank dynamics.


    Each level is qualitatively superior to the previous. Dust rank is everyone without any card¡ªme, and everyone I¡¯ve ever known.


    Stone is the enforcers, the boss, the people all but untouchable.


    Iron is a step above them, the city guard, adventurers, warriors and heroes.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Copper are even higher. Paladins and knights. Nobility. So far out of reach as to be irrelevant to my life. Until now.


    Who is this man?


    Then there¡¯s bronze. Silver. And¡­


    My eyes go down to the cube in my hand. I¡¯ve been reacting in panic mode up until now, seen the card as a detrimental thing to be rid of. Something people can and will kill for. So what if they can¡¯t get the actual power out of me, they can do an awful lot of horrible things in the process of trying.


    But having this¡­ once I can initialize it and choose a path¡­


    I¡¯ll be only a single step below royalty.


    ¡°Mmm, now you see.¡± He takes my hand in his, cool against my overheated body, and presses it over the cube. ¡°This is an opportunity for us both. Survive. Learn. When you¡¯re ready, find my people and you can repay the favor.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a favor. I don¡¯t know what this is, but it¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°An opportunity. Like I said.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Too much. It¡¯s too much. I can¡¯t decide¡±


    ¡°Do you have any preferences at all? Anything you like more or less?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t think I want to be an Anima. The power is too distant, it¡¯s unreliable.¡±


    ¡°Summoners are no weaker than any other class for their limitation to a single spirit, but you¡¯re right that there is a level of disconnect between yourself and your power. The precision necessary for proper anima command is a skill that can be learned. Mystics are among the most powerful and influential mages in a group of their peers¡± He considers me, then shakes his head. ¡°No, I think your instinct is right. That is not the right path for you.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a suggestion for what might be a good path for me?¡± I¡¯m proud of the extent to which I manage to keep the desperation out of my voice. ¡°What are the others like?¡±


    ¡°I do not. And I must go. We have tarried here too long. I will find you in two days. Don¡¯t die. Don¡¯t get yourself captured. Don¡¯t tell anyone what you have.¡±


    The image of Merien¡¯s face flashes in my mind¡¯s eye. I wonder if he¡¯s thought this through at all, or if he¡¯s just taken his playing pranks a few thousand steps too far this time.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they will learn it eventually, despite everything we may do to obscure it, but with any luck it won¡¯t be until you¡¯re long gone. If you die, nothing changes. The Enuvai retain their stranglehold. The Succession remains uncontested. My fate remains in their hands, as do those of your friends.¡±


    I don¡¯t correct him.


    ¡°But if you live¡­¡± he continues, ¡°the future is open to possibility. Not today, not this year, but an investment in open potential is worth the price.¡±


    ¡°You want me to be some kind of rebel?¡±


    ¡°I do not want you to become anything but whatever pleases you. The only thing I do not want is to see you forced into the same cycle of corruption and excess that holds this kingdom in its grasp.¡± He flips the pages in his book, each one a single card, and holds out a hand. Wind gathers beneath his feet and he crouches onto the cloud that forms even as it lifts him into the air. ¡°Two days. I must make arrangements, then I will find you. Remember, you must select a vessel by the end of the week, or it will be decided for you. Choose carefully.¡±


    I nod as he rises into the air. If I were younger, I¡¯d probably have run after him, shouting questions until he was out of sight, but I know better than to make a fuss.


    I shove the cube out of sight within my clothing, then slip deeper into the alley.


    Survive for two days. Tell no one. Should be easy. Probably won¡¯t be.


    Questions and options flood through my thoughts with every step.


    Should I trust him? I don¡¯t know him or anything about him. A copper ranked mage, here! Beholden to the Enuvai but holding private ambitions. What does he want with me? ¡®Choose your own path¡¯ yeah right. He¡¯s got to have preferences.


    He was willing to kill the people working under him without a moment¡¯s pause. I¡¯m a potentially valuable asset. How much protection does that provide me, and is there any way of knowing its limits?


    Is there any other option? If I go on my own, run, hide¡­


    Copper rank. He¡¯ll be able to find me. Unless¡­


    I glance down at the liquefied card. Shield type, unformed. Is there a way to activate it for myself, instead of relying on him bringing me a teacher?


    There¡¯s a Temple of Stone within an hour of here. I could ask the clerics for information. It might put me in their notice, but it would be the fastest way to get clear and specific answers.


    If I visit the libraries, there might be enough information hidden in stories that I could try to go solo. If I could protect myself without needing to rely on anyone. I¡¯d still owe him for sparing my life, but it might keep me out of his direct influence.


    Or should I take him at his word, hole up in the Refuge, pretend everything is fine? If I deviate from my usual patterns, someone there might suspect something. Not this, surely. No one could imagine this. A few hours ago I¡¯d not have imagined it to be possible.


    That¡¯s the one thing in my favor. This is the kind of thing that would be perpetrated by a foreign country, not a nobody like me.


    But how quickly things spiral out of control. I''m sure I¡¯ll never again call the normal cycle of chaos in the Understreets anything but peaceful.


    <hr>

 3: Encounter

    I¡¯m halfway to the Refuge before I¡¯m calm enough to drag myself out of the spiralling thoughts and inanity of what¡¯s been going on. I take a deliberate turn toward Leaf Street, force myself to break away from my default patterns.


    I can¡¯t keep running blindly. I¡¯m far enough from the scene of the crime and well away from the trade district where the confrontation with my Copper-Mage benefactor slash hunter caught up with me.


    I don¡¯t have the luxury of time to panic. I can do that once I¡¯m safely tucked away on a carriage out of here to¡­ to wherever I decide to take the next steps in. I need to stop and think this through properly.


    I can¡¯t go back to the Refuge. Even if the only person who knows what I¡¯ve done is Merien, can I really trust him to keep his big mouth shut for once? I¡¯m not willing to stake my life on his silence.


    Likewise, I don¡¯t think I can confront him. Whatever madness incited him to setting this up, it¡¯s something I want to get as far away from as possible, not involve myself in deeper.


    If there were any way to be rid of this thing, even knowing how powerful it is, that would be by far the safest option. But there¡¯s no choice, so I may as well find the option that best allows me to continue to survive into the future.


    I tap one of the three coins hidden about my person. I was supposed to turn them over at the end of the week, cover the Refuge fees for my continued existence at their mercy, but the urgency of needing to find additional income methods has vanished completely. By the end of the week I¡¯ll either be far away from here or in a situation where being murdered would probably be a mercy.


    The Storming Swan is as tempestuous a bar as its name suggests, without any of the implied elegance. It¡¯s not somewhere I visit often, but it¡¯s under Refuge protection while not being directly within Refuge control.


    I don¡¯t think I can make it through the night without something to take the edge off. And maybe some casual chatter with some of the tired laborers who spend their evenings here will help clarify my options.


    It¡¯s a bit early in the day to be hanging around the Swan, but it¡¯s a good place to settle my thoughts and assess options. I scan the handful of patrons, but they¡¯re all local. The ones I want to talk with are still out in the fields or at the market. I break the first of my coins to get a drink for myself, which leaves me with enough change for a few more to use strategically later.


    The other two I¡¯ll reserve for food. If I¡¯m not going back to the Refuge, I¡¯ll also need to find someplace to stay, but that¡¯s a problem for later. I¡¯ve slept on rooftops before, I can do it again if necessary.


    Caen Carvaxen is a sprawling mess of a city. Even living my whole life here I¡¯ve seen barely a fraction of it, but I know the Dustways and a good chunk of Stoneheart. There are five districts in the Dustways, spread out around the south and east sides of Carvaxen.


    The two nearest the city are the trade district, which is where we put on a pretty facade and play nice for the guards and caravans, and the labor district. The Refuge operates out of the labor district, providing work and shelter for those of us who can¡¯t seem to break in to the kinds of work the rest of Carvaxen is willing to pay for.


    The three outermost districts are larger and more spread out, the farms and canals, largely self-sufficient except for massive hiring bursts around harvest and hunting seasons. There¡¯s always a handful of people being hired to help out year round, but the number of those who end up burned out, disqualified for injuries, or simply disappearing without a trace are too high for my liking.


    I¡¯ve spent too many of my years malnourished and couldn¡¯t keep up with the increasingly mounting strength requirements of the outer districts if I tried. Competition is already high, and that means the employers have all the power. They can disqualify people en masse with height and weight baselines that people like me will never have a chance at.


    The old saying is true. The path to improving your station in life starts with not being born poor.


    In a city as vast and populated as Carvaxen, there¡¯s always going to be someone who wants it just as badly as you, but was better off from birth. It doesn¡¯t matter how hard someone like me works and struggles, our trajectories were set twenty years in the past and a lifetime of momentum sets even the smallest difference apart by a vast gulf as it compounds on itself.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°You want company?¡±


    Halfway through my contemplation, I glance up, then frown.


    The man who¡¯s seated himself next to me is about as non-local as you could get. Not only is the color and fabric of his outfit far higher grade than is normal around here, the style is Droniien in cut.


    I note the bulge of his coin pursue, the careless latch of his belt, the heavy links of his necklace. Any other day, he¡¯d be the perfect mark. Beyond belief. I could get enough from him to satisfy my existence payments for two weeks.


    Today I scan the appropriate vulnerabilities and turn back to my half-empty glass without interest. ¡°Why, you hiring?¡±


    ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡± He tosses several Droniien coins across the counter and orders two full bottles of the best the Swan has to offer. He pops one open and shoves the other toward me, not bothering with a cup. ¡°You don¡¯t remember me?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem the sort of person I¡¯d forget.¡±


    He chuckles and sets something on the counter with a dull clink. ¡°I believe I saw you a few hours ago. But I understand if you weren¡¯t paying attention. You did seem distraught at the time.¡±


    It takes me a second look to put the pieces together. He¡¯s set an empty resonator cube on the counter between us.


    The man whose horse I ran into when I ran blindly out into Merchant Street..


    I swallow, dizzy. How could I have forgotten about him? Stones knew how many people he could have told. Some covert operator I am. One little life-shattering panic and I¡¯m forgetting key witnesses.


    One calculation insists I should find a way to dispose of him immediately. Another reasons that if he knows this much already and hasn¡¯t turned me in, I could at least get some information out of him.


    I take another gulp to wet my suddenly dry throat. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°To discuss our options, of course. I believe I¡¯m correct in saying that your core has not been clarified yet?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Who has time for core nonsense down here?¡± The Dust districts are spread out around the base of the mountain that makes up Caen Carvaxen. Even the Stone districts are elevated more by merit of buildings having two stories rather than any real geographical improvement. Only as you start to circle up the mountainside into the Iron and Copper and Bronze districts do you start to get high enough to actually feel the power in the air.


    I¡¯ve been up that high exactly twice, and the first time I was too young to remember. The second time I visited Copper tier, it was as a boy, delivering a message. I¡¯ll never forget it. The creak of gears as the elevator ascended, the view out over the rest of Caen Carvaxen as the districts where I¡¯d spent my whole life suddenly looked like toys scattered down below. Like I could have flicked a finger and crushed whole blocks.


    It was dizzying in more ways than one.


    It was only on the descent that I noticed the lessening of the air. A tightness I¡¯d never before noticed, released so gradually I hadn¡¯t felt it at the time, but with each moment dropping back toward the Stone tier that unseen oppression reclaimed me.


    It wasn¡¯t until years later that I learned enough to put a name on it. Sostanza, the immaterial material that made up your core¡¯s strength. Below the Iron districts, there¡¯s so little sostanza and so many people that almost everyone¡¯s core is malformed and suffocated. Farmers have it a little better off, with so much space they can walk without needing to share, but even that is nothing like even a few days spent in a higher tier.


    No one cares what we do down here, Stone and Dust, we can bicker among ourselves freely, and if anyone from a higher tier is careless enough to be robbed while down here they don¡¯t expect anything different. But there are rules. Lines we know never to cross.


    Entering the higher tiers without permission is one of those lines. Even an Iron-core child could obliterate the strongest Dust warrior in existence. Going up-tier inherently sets you at a disadvantage.


    Better to rule a kingdom of dust than be a slave in a higher realm.


    ¡°Well.¡± The Dronii merchant¡¯s reply is so late in coming I¡¯d almost forgotten he was here. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to make time for core nonsense.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re willing to clarify that at all?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be glad to. Please, come join me in my caravan.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± My answer is immediate and firm. Does he think I¡¯m an idiot? Dance myself right into his power? At least in here there are enough witnesses around that I can pretend he won¡¯t try to kidnap me in broad daylight. Though, judging by how wealthy he has to be if he¡¯s casually handing out resonators and riding around on a mechanical horse like it¡¯s nothing, he could probably do whatever he wants to me here and pay off the witnesses to say nothing. Down here, everyone is desperate enough to take it without a second thought. I can only hope he¡¯s unfamiliar enough with the city not to know that.


    ¡°You really want to have this discussion in public?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He shrugs and leans back, taking another swig of his bottle. ¡°As you say, it shall be. First, tell me what you know of your core and its level, then I¡¯ll answer any questions you may have.¡±


    <hr>