As his crystal clear mind returned to the present, Tercius knew that something wasn’t right.

Something in the way that the old man spoke had been off-putting to Tercius. Off-putting in the same way when a space to which he was used to suddenly came to lack a sound that he knew should be there or when it had a smell that had never been present before. In each of these cases, a part of him had registered these things as an anomaly— a breaker of patterns— and he knew that something wasn't right.

—"The power of the old ones is weakened but not spent… The Imperials might just be waiting for them to die naturally, rather than lose more people. Picking off from the sides slowly, rather than risking a head-on collision,"—

There had been something there… he could still feel its edges. Something about the way his grandfather… had spoken? Looked? Acted? What are you up to, old man?

When Tercius had started learning the Empire’s Common, over a decade ago, it was from Ciron’s mouth that he extracted the sounds, the words, their inflections…

Only Ciron spoke the language slowly and deliberately, as if measuring his words in the same way he handled structural dimensions, and that had made him the perfect starting point for a young Tercius to grab the edges of the spoken language.

The sounds that came from the back of the throat, somewhere between a gurgle and a grunt, Tercius had learned properly from him. Same with the nasal ones. It had taken countless hours of dedicated observations, and it would not be an exaggeration to say that he knew the old man’s speech pattern by heart.

His grandfather spoke little, but when he did he spoke slowly and articulately, he spoke with his deliberate mind behind each word and most importantly, he had never been… like this.

“I want you to promise me that you will keep this close to your chests and remember it well,” Ciron said, dead serious.

There it was again, his ears said. That hardness. There was something there for sure. A hook that had prompted Tercius to go immediately to mortality. I need something to help me with this. Something to sharpen my ears and eyes…

Luckily, he had just the skill.

Acting [7]

Your ability to observe and interpret detailed movements, gestures, and intonations of individuals is increased by a small amount, while the skill is in use. Your ability to perform observed movements, gestures, and intonations is increased by a small amount, while the skill is in use. Every skill level increases the effect by a small degree and lowers the cost of use by a small degree.

The skill’s first part was the one that he was after and the only one he actually used the skill for so far. Back at the Academy, with limited mana and no supplemental Energy to power level the skill, he had had to choose his focus skill and Quick Learner had come out the clear winner. In fact, it was the main skill he focused his free time in the past two days, bringing it to [20] Luckily with all the Energy he had on him, levels [6] and [7] were gains from the previous day, gains that had taken very little from him— an hour at most.

He activated Acting and as his mana fell sharply, his grandfather spoke again.

"Promise me that you will never speak of this again, not even with each other and certainly not to anyone else. The only time either of you are allowed to talk about it is when you pass it down to someone down the line. Only in death will I, and now you two, be free of this geas. Daughter, promise me," Ciron said.

—“Promise me that you will never speak of this again, not even with each other and certainly not to anyone else. The single time either of you are allowed to talk about it is when you pass it down to someone down the line. Only in death will I, and now you two, be free of this geas,”—

Certain words grandly resonated to him, conveying meaning beyond what he was able to grasp on his own. Tone, inflection… To his skill enchanted mind, in the last sentence, the actor both looked and sounded like he was saying goodbye.

"—I promise," Petra answered in a weak voice. His mother was still riding high on the surprise, merely going with the flow.

“Tercius… now you promise me,” Ciron said.

“Grandfather…” he said, absentmindedly. With Acting on he saw and heard and felt… more.

“You have to promise me, grandson,” Ciron said.

Acting was a voracious mana consumer, somewhere up there with Quick Learning, but ever since he came home his Well had always been in a state where it was brimming with Energy. Every few hours he visited Flu and harvested more Energy which was then used for raising some of his skills, helping Ciron and Amber level their skills, sweeping his body with Energy to stave off sleep, and finally to keep his mana regeneration rate sky-high.

—“You have to promise me, grandson.”—

With the skill to aid him, he noticed more than mere words. He noticed a tremor in Ciron’s tone… and a sad… no… almost desperate… look in his eyes. This meant a lot to him, and the thought that Tercius might decline it…

“I am not expecting you to honor the faith or practice it in any way, but I do need you to honor the geas. Promise me,” Ciron said.

—“I am not expecting you to honor the faith or practice it in any way, but I do need you to honor the geas. Promise me,”—

The way that his grandfather was passing down the torch… The almost melancholic narrowing of the eyes that kept looking down and briefly avoiding eye contact… then there was that occasional deeper, sad tone that his grandfather spoke certain words…

Acting [7] is now Acting [8]

After a long moment of silence, Tercius collected enough focus to say, "I promise,"

The old man’s facial muscles relaxed and his shoulders deflated slightly.

“Good,” Ciron nodded. “That’s good.”

***

***

***

"I had always wondered why the Imperials stopped when just a few old ones remain in plain sight in Spheros. But if what you say about spirits is true then… The power of the old ones is weakened but not spent… The Imperials might just be waiting for them to die naturally, rather than lose more people—" His fists clenched. The truth of those words rang clear in his being. "—Picking off from the sides slowly, rather than risking a head-on collision,"

Just like they were picking his own family now— wearing them down with daily insults all to get him to act. These Imperials were doing to him and his what their ancestors had done to his ancestors.

Ciron regretted listening to his daughter that day. I should have done away with them then and there.

“Daughter, grandson,” he said slowly, a realization overcoming him.

Something had to be done. This couldn't go on any longer. His grandchildren were living in daily fear, just because some pompous Imperial lord gave an order. Ever since that day when they tried to take her off the street, he had seen how little Aurelia now feared being alone. His independent little girl, who never feared walking in the dark, had evaporated that afternoon. Little Leo started using that skill of his any time a loud shout or sound happened, where before the little one used it only to play. His daughter was brave and tenacious, but he had seen on her face uncertainty and worry. They were gnawing on her insides. He might have been deaf, but he still had eyes.

Every time he saw any of them flinch, a knife had stabbed at his heart.

Now that he heard again, that knife made an additional cut each time.

If this went on for much longer these people would scar his family permanently, and he would be damned if he allowed that.

“I share this with you today, just like my grandfather passed it down to me. Remember it well and pass it down along the line,” he said, choking off the emotions from voice. What was coming to his mind was foolhardy and ill-conceived and yet what other recourse was there? Go into hiding again? With these men on their tails?

Not bloody likely.

Old blood sang in his ears, loud beating drums that he hadn't heard, only felt, in a long time. He had his grandson and his mage teacher to thank for that, among other things. His body and back hadn't felt so good in ages. Now that he had his wits, will, and body together…

Tercius's teacher was taking a risk by coming to their home, in more ways than one and he had told that to the woman. She had laughed at his warning. Some stories about mages might be false, but some were true. Their arrogance knew no bounds. He hoped his grandson proved more level-headed. When he spoke to Tercius about it, his grandson assured him that the woman laughed because she would have no issue whatsoever in dealing with these people.

But how could that be? The boy was just placating his worries, like usual. Ciron knew the way of the world far better than his twelve-cycles-old grandson or his middle-aged mage teacher ever could. Even if the woman was older than she looked, what with her potions and everything, what could one mage do against that kind of pressure?

He had seen how Imperials ground anyone unsuitable under their heels and a single mage had no way to shoulder it, no matter how powerful she was. It was by standing together that the mages of today stood still defiant.

After he bound his progeny to the same geas of silence and duty, Ciron urged them to their rooms to sleep.

Then he settled to contemplate.

Ciron realized that by sharing that story with his daughter and grandson, he had completed what he had promised to his grandfather. The sole duty he had been bound by the old man was done. Two more people in the world knew of the deity called Architect. While the geas bound him with silence to his grave, that was no duty nor a great difficulty.

His wife had secrets of her own, he knew, and she probably knew that he had some of his, but each of them knew not to ask the other for answers to questions they would never get. It was their silent agreement, one felt but never spoken. Both he and his wife were people bound by duty first and it was in that shared commonality that their bond first grew from.

Learning from Tercius that his home was now essentially a temple to an old one, one that his wife was in service of, he knew that there was no leaving this house now. The choice between duty and family was not something he wished for his wife to have to contemplate, so now it fell to him to give her and the rest of them a way forward where duty and family converged.

A way for them to stay together.

As he waited for the new day to come, Ciron steeled his nerves. He knew but one way that would allow him to accomplish his wish. His grandson childishly spoke of growing so big that they become unassailable, and Ciron encouraged him even while he knew that one man would never be able to stand against many regardless of skills and skill levels.

Ciron chuckled to himself. Even if a man could become a mighty tower, even towers fall.

There would always be a weakness that could be exploited. Just look at what happened to his ancestors, when they got outnumbered. Of them, only a few specks remain in hiding.

His family was not going down that road.

A high-pitched meow scared the shit out of him as his whole body tensed and some gibberish word meant to be a curse escaped him. Ciron's eyes fell to rest on a small, kitten-sized creature that Tercius brought back with him.

Amber, he called her.

"You scared me senseless," he said with a sigh while patting his tender heart.

He remembered catching these little herbivores as a small lad, at some points of the cycle they were found everywhere around the river in seemingly infinite numbers, and bringing them home for his Ma to prepare. The legs, especially…

After another meow, the small creature leaped up and settled in his lap, after making a circle to properly pat and prepare the resting place with her paws. When she settled, his hand tentatively reached behind her flickering ears and she started purring.

A weak laugh escaped him and he shook his head. Tercius was his grandson, but judging by this little creature, his wife had no small amount of influence as well.

The boy would be angry with him. His grandson had plans, he knew, but this whole issue was… Something that a boy of twelve shouldn’t even know of, let alone plan to deal with. At times all of this seemed too much, even for him.

As Ciron settled back in his seat, a single tear fell from steel-like eyes. He would be doing right by them, and that was all that mattered to him.

***

***

***

From the first day he had gained a room of his own in their new house, Tercius had always liked to keep it simple.

First came some bare necessities. A wooden chair and a handcrafted stone office table with six wooden drawers, three on each side. There was a lot of paper in those drawers, physical memories of things he learned and things he taught to others. On the same wall where the door was, was a stone shelf filled with books he had purchased from Perdy, with the earnings he got from his work with Neiran and Ciron. One stone-framed bed on which wooden planks sealed the middle and it was on those bare planks that Tercius laid now, his chest, arms, and legs bare while a round amulet rested on his chest.

A year ago sleeping on a mattress-less bed had not been that bad, but now that he got used to the bed at Seliana’s home and the even better bed at the Academy, the polished wooden surface proved somewhat challenging. But he would get used to it again.

Besides, the reason that sleep had trouble finding Tercius later that night had nothing to do with the state of his bed. His eyes were open and staring at the ceiling of his room, as the strange way his grandfather acted repeated itself over and over in his mind and he couldn’t quite understand what was going on—

Suddenly, something touched him on his left leg, near the foot, but he recognized the touch instantly.

Tercius’s head rose to observe Amber. She had grown to the full size that female river lions were supposed to grow to, but she was still smaller than a normal house cat— her current size was on par with a bigger kitten of the normal house cats, he would say. It was because of this little scamp that his room now had a decorative addition added— a plain stone pot that would soon grow Amber’s favorite plant.

He stood up to sit on the edge of the bed, much to Amber’s protest. With Mana Sight active he looked down and saw that Ciron was still in the basement, sitting in the same place where Petra and Tercius left him over an hour ago.

What was the old man up to?

From Familiar Bond, Tercius could sense dissatisfaction with his movement escapade. Human, don’t test me… she seemed to say, as her eyes glared at him. The little one was getting better with sending him human-shaped concepts, while he got better acquainted with her point of view and together they managed to bridge the gap between species.

Amber, he sent. Go to the basement and keep watch over this human— He sent her the image of his grandfather, via the bond. Visualization proved immensely helpful there.

Contrary to the inter-species gap that proved surmountable, it was the intra-species gap between her and her carnivorous cousins that she had trouble dealing with. His grandmother’s cats and Amber got along as well as you can expect of newly acquainted cats, he supposed. Lots of running and chasing, some broken items— nothing of any value, but still…

While Amber was weaker, physically, her scales were such that the claws of the cats had no way of penetration. That had taken him by surprise. The scales that she cast off every so often were incredibly light, thin, and most importantly malleable even after they were discarded by her. But while cat scratches don't leave a mark on those scales, she made a point to point that out, the physical blow itself hurt and that she wanted revenge on the abominable furry mongrels.

And Amber had a plan.

In the past two days, any time a chase ensued, Amber lured his grandmother’s cats to the kitchen and then soaked them with water— often using the boiling water meant for making tea for the many inhabitants of the house. He made sure to properly reprimand the little one after each time, but he wasn’t sure that his words had any effect mostly because he placed very little heat into them. After all, Amber was only responding to their aggression.

Poor cats… Tercius shook his head. He pitied them, but he was firmly with Amber on this.

Sleepy. Go away, Amber said, in her own way.

If you want more of that little plant you like, we can make a deal, Tercius said, while sending her an image, and Amber suddenly raised her head. He could feel her desire for a munch or two. Keep close to the human until the sun goes up. If you do that, you will get to eat your fill of your favorite meal. Do we have a deal?

With a meow that could have been a human word for agreed, she stood up, jumped down from the bed, and left the room through the small opening he made for her in the wall near the door.

With that taken care of, Tercius decided to take his mind off of his grandfather. He had been wracking his brain, but nothing had popped up.

Tercius stood up and then went to that flower pot made of stone. He sat on the floor near it and placed his hands on the earth, in the exact center where the day before he placed exactly a dozen seeds for a plant that he would call a cousin of Aloe Vera. He would have to make up his own end of the deal, but at least he could go ahead with reviewing some skill experiments he did two years ago, only now using his magically educated point of view as a point of reference.

With an inhale, he focused his mind on his hands and the sensation of life and water and light that would be flowing through them. That was how his grandmother had spoken to him while she taught him Gardening, and that was what came to his mind every time he used the skill.

A casual observer would say that he saw a kid who was sitting on a floor in shorts, holding his hands on a flowerpot, his glowing eyes boring holes on the tops of his palms. Tercius would say that he was solving part of the biggest puzzle that had had the pleasure of knowing.

A puzzle the natives called “Skills”.

Gardening [40]

Lowers the time necessary for the flora and fungi to grow. Every skill level increases the effect by a small degree and lowers the cost of its use by a small degree.

His Mana Sight revealed a barely observable red mana cloud, with gentle motes of dense mana, green and blue and golden in color, inside of that cloud. It was a harmony of tenderness and care that seemed to enrich the earth below his hands all the while sinking into ten dark holes— small objects of irregular shapes called seeds. The first time he had seen the motes, they had been these tiny dots left by a very sharp pen-tip. Tiny pinprick size, really. From his longitudinal research into the skill called Gardening he knew that with each level up those green, blue and golden motes of mana grew larger. Now they seemed… somewhat fatter as if made by a duller pen-tip if only a little.

These motes passed through the earth, only to linger around the seeds, and while some went even lower than the seeds, none ever left the boundary where the red mana cloud ended.

What was surprising was the mana density of that cloud was low, to an incredible degree that probably approached zero. But to what point did it go down? Zero point four? Zero point three? Was his Mana Sight even able to see something like that?

His Precision did reach [40] yesterday…

With a grumble, he wished he had a certain skill to help him with this. Mages used a lot of precise instruments to make theoretical calculations and then make comparisons, but all of those instruments were off-limits to students years one through four…

He ended the skill and using Mana Manipulation he pulled just a small sliver of mana out of himself. The mana in him was at a neutral point of compression for humans, which mages conveniently denominated with the number one, so he started using his skill to expand the mana, thereby lowering its density. Unlike compression, decompression of mana was easy. Too easy in fact. He tried to go slow but within three seconds, just as he went below the point where his experience was telling him that it was zero point seven, his mana slipped from his proverbial fingers— lost to a phenomenon called dissipation of mana.

Gardening can keep a low-density field of mana at a constant rate with no dissipation occurring… Tercius thought. Fascinating…

He knew from lectures that as his Mana Manipulation grew, he would be able to use more of that range of compressed and decompressed mana around the neutral point. For now, what he did when he broke the barrier of Mana Manipulation allowed his compression rate to go beyond what he was able to achieve by a factor that he calculated to be around six times— but only when he ‘drew’ Runes with mana. Why the Hells did his skill need to be so specific?

A question for another time, he thought and went back to Gardening.

The green, blue and golden motes inside the red cloud, on the other hand, were made of denser mana, which he placed between one point five and one point seven.

Considering that he had to go for at least a five to create even the most basic of spell components— which degraded considerably within minutes of compression— from a mage point of view, Tercius had to say that the way that this skill operated had little sense. But as mages openly admitted that spells had come from studying skills, that just meant that he was missing something…

A piece of the puzzle.

I better continue… Tercius thought. I have a lot to go over before I start with the next stage of the whole skill/spell. The missing piece might reveal itself in the process…