With Amber asleep in his arms and Mistress Kalina in a reflective silence, Tercius took the quiet, slow walk to come to grips with his own issues.

He went over the events of the previous night and imagined them as if they happened years ago, decades even, and now that he met Mistress Kalina he wondered if there would come a day when he would use centuries as default there.

It was a technique he had picked up from Mr. Sullivan, a state of mind suitable for sorting things into a hierarchy of importance and untangling threads from complex issues and simplifying them to bits. Time always places things into perspective and when it’s not there you make it yourself, the old man used to say. So Tercius reflected on the things he did, some things he thought about doing, and wondered what would have happened if he had done things differently.

After time took its due, a single thing stood out.

He was ashamed of losing his calmness following Caeso's mocking laugh and his revelation. His act had dropped at that moment, a cocktail of fear, trepidation, and anger flooding his system, making him forget who he was supposed to be. He had lost his cool and almost strangled a man. What if he had returned his attention to Caeso only after it was too late? If he didn't cloak himself in a telekinetic body suit his mana would have crystallized Caeso's neck and most likely his head. That mocking smirk and the glint in those dark eyes would have been erased by fear and then that fear would have been frozen in crystal forever.

He couldn't care less for the man himself. Live or die, Caeso would be done in by his own actions. But… If he had to kill the man, rather than do it accidentally and unaware he’d prefer to do it on purpose and with intent.

At his home, the three of them found the household awake. Awake and clamoring.

As soon as a droopy-eyed Petra saw him, she ran to him and took his head into her hands, moving his head this and that way.

“Mother…”

She ignored his protests as she gave him a once over. "Where the Hells have you been?" she demanded, smacking him on the shoulder.

“I’m just back from a walk,” he answered.

“A walk?! Tercius…”

Mistress Kalina looked ready to defend him, but Tercius quickly gesticulated the Ruge for “No”. Luck was with him for the woman noticed his signal in time and she went on her way under Petra’s piercing green-eyed gaze.

The last thing he needed now was for someone to defend him. That would only prolong or escalate his mother. Possibly both. Besides, his mother might even go after Mistress Kalina if the mage were to step in the current radar setting… and then he would have to choose to either take a side, which was always tricky or stay out of it, which had its own price. It was better to let Petra unwind solely at him. The nightly excursion had been his idea, after all.

As his visibly tired mother unloaded a string of perfectly reasonable grievances one might have over a suddenly missing child, Tercius endured with agreeable nods at appropriate times and looked properly chastised. Not only did it allow Petra’s tense nerves to relax a bit, but most importantly the two peeping heads with the hair of tar and blood got an indirect lesson. The two of them tried to stay hidden behind the corner and only eavesdrop, but curiosity got the better of the eight-year-old and the three-year-old and forced them to take a look from time to time.

“Mother—” he said calmly as soon as the first major pause from Petra came.

"Don't you dare do that again!" Petra snapped back into the offense. "I thought that they took you!—"

Petra needed more time to unload, something he could understand considering the pressure on her shoulders and so Tercius was there to listen to her. She held his forearm the whole time as if to stop him from escaping again. She had three kids that she had to raise and worry about, four if he counted himself. What's more, Petra's mother and husband were on the other side of the continent, and not a single word from them had reached Petra in over four months. She had been running the house and the garden on her own ever since Rona and Septimus left, with some help from Ciron, but nonetheless, it was an endeavor that would have run anyone else ragged. Then she had the il' Drusus people that she had to worry about and he would have lifted that burden by telling her that the issue was over, only he didn't know for sure that it was, and even if he did he was not sure that he should tell.

A million and one little things were on Petra’s plate.

Tercius knew that he had to take some weight off her, or…

But he knew that he was bad at comforting people…

When little Leo’s head popped around the corner to spy, Tercius’ eyes brightened with an idea. Speaking was overrated anyway. He waved for them to come. The two of them shook their heads, but Petra noticed his signal and looked in their direction. The duo immediately tried to bolt.

“Stop right there, you bunch of little spies. No use in escaping now. We saw you both,” he called for them. “You’re terrible at hiding.”

Leo’s voice rose in protest, but whatever the boy had said the sounds that came to Tercius and Petra were muddled beyond recognition.

Petra looked at Tercius with a raised eyebrow and he just nodded to her to wait a moment. The two children took their sweet time shuffling their feet, thinking themselves in trouble for spying. The taller Aurelia walked behind the just over a meter tall Leo, both holding him by the shoulders and pushing him forward.

Tercius shook his head with a smile. A resigned Aurelia using the squirming Leo as a human shield was just… perfect in so many ways. The image was worthy of a painting.

Tercius crouched so that he was on Leo’s eye level. “You’re not in trouble. While spying on people is strictly forbidden, right now we'll forgive you. But only this once! We—” he pointed a finger between himself and Petra. “—need your help with something.”

Aurelia’s face went from resignation to realization only to settle on a beaming smile. “Just say what!”

“Oh…” Leo’s chubbily cherubic face seemed relieved as well as he nodded his agreement.

“It is a difficult quest, one that requires courage and bravery and that means that… Leo will go first.” Tercius said as he pulled Leo closer to Petra, despite Aurelia’s protests. “Now wrap your arms around her as hard as you can and don’t let her go.”

He pushed the boy to Petra and Leo’s head fitted neatly close to Petra’s left hip. The woman messed up the boy’s hair with a laugh.

“Hug her, and hold tight— as hard as you can. Can you do that?”

“Mmm,” The boy grunted with the same agreeable grunt that Ciron used.

"Now that you've seen your brave little brother in action, you know what must be done. Your sacrifice won't be in vain sister," he said as he grabbed Aurelia's arm and pulled her close. The girl laughed at him as she nestled herself into Petra's side while wrapping her arms around Petra's torso.

"Use those arms properly and don't let her move," Tercius said.

Petra laughed as she hugged her children. “What are you up to now, you scoundrel?”

Tercius just smiled in reply as he took a hug of his own. For a few moments he let Petra lean on his shoulders and he could hear the woman let out a sigh. From one moment to the other, with that single sigh, the weight on his shoulder lessened.

Then he let her go and took a few steps back to take in the full view.

When he started this whole thing he had wanted to use his new skill to make them all fly a little together, but… the kids would surely brag of something like that to their friends so it was better left for some other time. But just because one thing was off-limits, currently, didn't mean that there were no other ways to have a little more fun.

“Are you holding her in place properly?”

“Mmm,” Leo grunted.

“Of course!”

With a smile, he waved to Petra. "It seems that you're a little busy for that punishment you've mentioned earlier, so… I guess that we can all agree that we'll completely forget about it. Thank you for falling to my evil plan so easily."

Even as Tercius’s words jumpstarted Petra’s memory and her eyes brightened, he was slowly moving away from them. “Kids! He’s trying to flee from justice! After him!”

At those words, he ran away with all the speed he possessed. "Give up! You've missed your chance!" he shouted to the trio that ran after him. "You will never catch me now!"

“Get him!”

***

***

***

Running before breakfast was a sure way to make the body crave food. The shrieks and laughter had brought them viewers rapidly and while Tercius continued to play with Aurelia and Leo, as soon as the guests arrived Petra fell away.

While Seliana, Penelope, and Kriti helped with the children and the kitchen, Tercius realized that they also bound Petra to not being able to feel free in her own home. Tercius couldn't remember Petra swear a single time in the presence of the guests. To Tercius it was evident that Mistress Kalina's presence was the one that bothered Petra the most.

But what could he do there? Should he do anything?

Tercius ate whatever was given as he glanced at the silent, “adult-only” part of the kitchen. For Ciron, he had a few questions and before he spoke to the old man, he would likely have a few more.

The weirdest, by far, thing to happen was that the nameless spectral-looking Spirit cat, that inhabited their home, seemed to have moved away from going after Mistress Kalina’s Well and seemed quite content to laze on Petra’s shoulders, although its head seemed to be turned to Mistress Kalina at all times.

In fact, during the whole breakfast it stayed curled around Petra’s neck, a behavior that based on the few days that he had been observing the Spirit was strange to Tercius.

Provided that Mistress Kalina was absent, most of the time the Spirit normally just… floated around the house. When the mage was present, it kept trying to get to her Well and the Energy contained in it.

That had been a constant for his current observation.

Why did the Spirit abruptly stop pestering Mistress Kalina only to cling to Petra? As his hand brought food to his mouth to eat, he used his Mana Sight and Energy Sight, both in dark mode, to observe for any kind of anomaly around Petra and the Spirit.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but…

“Brother, you promised to teach me how to make those floating colors,” Aurelia said.

“I did,”

“So…”

"You will need two skills first,"

“What kind of skills?”

“Granddaughter…” Ciron’s deep voice rumbled and attracted the attention of everyone in the room. “We spoke of asking others for their skills. What did I say?”

Aurelia took only a moment to remember the motto. “Ask not of others, speak not of your own.”

Kriti and Seliana nodded their heads in agreement, praising Aurelia, even as Mistress Kalina shook her head as she ate, a slight movement that no one likely saw.

“You don’t agree with that, Mistress?” Petra asked.

“I do not.” Mistress Kalina after she swallowed her bite.

“Are things done differently back where you’re from?” Petra asked.

Mistress Kalina nodded. "Besides teaching spellwork, our Academy also has skill courses— although those are a bit more difficult to get by. A diligent student of years three, four, five, and six can get commendations for their work and dedication from their teachers. Those commendations can then be exchanged for all kinds of specific skill tutelage, but this is limited to the student's already small amount of free time. Skill tutelage can't intrude into other aspects of their education and as soon as they start to, they are terminated. Other than that, there are volumes upon volumes of books written solely about skills are available in our Librarium, available to everyone's perusal, as Tercius well knows. Most mages are also very keen on exchanging skill knowledge with… well anyone."

Mistress Kalina’s words placed a lock on everyone’s mouth.

That was not how things were done in the Empire.

Knowledge of personal skills was dangerous in enemy hands, which was why most if not all individuals kept the names and descriptions of their skills exclusively for themselves. The slogan that Aurelia spoke there was what people around the Empire had been teaching their kids for generations. It was how Petra and Septimus had been brought up, as well as Rona and Ciron, and most likely the generations above theirs.

There was usually a small circle of people to whom you could speak about specific skills, like the Priesthood where Rona had been born and raised or the masonic peers of his grandfather, but people limited those kinds of interactions to a minimum of two to three specific skills that everyone knew that you knew.

His grandfather was a stonemason, so people expected for him to have a skill like Stone Shaping.

Before Petra ran from Spheros, a decade and a half ago, she had been an apprentice seamstress. While she never formally stopped being an apprentice, just by knowing that she had been trained as one and most people would have likely guessed that Petra had skills that made her fingers nimble and that she was handy with a needle.

There, his mind went on a tangent.

Needles and fast fingers… Big, thin, pointy needles, along with fast fingers, and skill like Precision… Perhaps even Accuracy and Dexterity and his mother could make a porcupine of any invader… Go for the eyes and… An eye used as a pincushion…

He shuddered at the last image that came to his mind. Why the Hells didn’t this occur to me sooner…

Would it even work?

If for some reason that didn’t work, he would give her the small blades set that Lux left for him and try to impart what he learned from Lux.

Or perhaps a bow and arrow?

He would have to talk about this to Petra…

As his thoughts drifted from everything he would have to do, they slowly went to the nice personal gift that he left behind for Caeso and everyone who worked under him. When they woke up, sometimes close to the evening, they would be in for a treat. If only he could see the reactions on their faces…

***

***

***

The unpaid mercenaries scattered as soon as they saw each other, some clamoring for their missing money, but most just vanishing as fast as they could. Blood magic, they whispered. Even though Caeso knew that there was no blood fucking magic at hand, he didn’t stop them. Why would he? His pockets were empty and the mission was over…

All of his work undone by one sick sneaky old bastard and a bucket of paint, a deranged Expert that couldn’t let Caeso keep a tiny sliver of dignity.

He shouldn’t have fucking laughed! He knew that. But the panic that Caeso had felt from that black-robed Expert had been oh-so-sweet. The world had been behind him at that moment and he had gloated and now… Fuck.

What the old stonemason did, with calling for the recordkeeper and peacekeeper, had most likely been a bait of some kind for Caeso. He saw that now. A bait that he had acted on. Why and with what purpose… he had no idea and… Caeso fists clenched. He had gotten to where he was by knowing his enemy…

To add insult to injury, that bastard with a strange voice robbed everyone of every single coin piece, marked everyone who had been asleep as if they were livestock, and he did it all without alerting a single soul.

Other than Caeso, but that had been intentional.

The sole time Caeso spoke to his men he saw them afraid. Their necks and foreheads had the same marks as his own. When they saw his bruised neck and he explained what had happened, all of them, even Burr, had been quiet.

The robbed noble had clamored to bring in the Peacekeepers and sweep the town for his money and jewelry, but after Caeso explained the situation the man had settled. He was fuming at his loss, but the man was not stupid.

Money was regained easier than life.

Going after a man that could enter the inner wall, bypass sentries and patrols, make his way into a tightly guarded house, and then do whatever he wanted without being found out… The only thing that kept their lives intact so far was that this man didn't want to raise any dust around himself or his proteges, but if they were to push him… Might as well call it a suicide.

He looked at the sharp razor in his shaking hand and Caeso cursed. He would have to shave off some of his skin… but his hands couldn't steady for a moment, let alone enough for what he was trying to do. Looking at himself in the still water of his shaving bowl, Caeso didn't blink once as he slowly read the words reflected from his neck and forehead. The storm-damned letters were written with some blood-red paint that couldn't be washed away no matter how hard he scrubbed.

“Severed,” the bruised neck said.

“Dead,” the forehead said.

With a roar, he swiped at the shaving bowl and its frame, flipping both into the far wall. Metal crashed and bounced around, as the water fell on the stone floor with a splash.