Tylee was with me the next morning. Although I was used to her being reserved, she was even more subdued than usual. Despite my efforts, she only responded to me in simple sentences before we left the manor. Only when we were on approach to the temple of Tyr did her newfound stoicism fade. Whatever Tylee was worried about, it was obvious that she was just as concerned about how I was going to handle my upcoming interview.

To be honest, I was more than a little leery myself.

“Everything will be alright.” Tylee muttered, a firm hand resting on my shoulder.

“That’s because you’re not the one being interrogated by mind mages,” I pointed out, “Mind mages who most recently slapped your brain around for a couple days.”

She grimaced, then turned her eyes to the temple, “The Seekers of Truth are nothing like the monster you faced.”

The temple of Tyr was an imposing edifice. While the temple of Orianna was constructed of marble, and practically shone through the daily efforts of temple dedicants, the structure before us was of a subdued dark gray. I suppose it would have been too on the nose for them to make it completely black. It was still ominous in any case. Where the temple of Orianna had soft, gentle curves, the temple of Tyr was constructed in the more gothic sense. All sharp angles and pointy spires.

The fact that it doubled as the courthouse of the city probably didn’t help my interpretation of its façade. Still, they could have tried to make it a little more welcoming.

“Captain Quentus will be utilizing a spell to detect lies, not a full mind read, or even a probe.” She said.

“Are you sure that you don’t have something more important to do?” I wondered aloud, “Like counter the machinations of your father?”

She raised an eyebrow at me, “Are you aware of any plots by my father which need to be… countered?”

“No,” I admitted, “He just seems like that kind of guy.”

She smiled gently, “Father does his best for the house in his own way. Though what is best for the house is not always the best for the individual.”

“So you admit he might be up to something which will have unfortunate effects for you?” I asked.

She shrugged, “Besides arranging my marriage?”

“Well,” I said, “That too. How is that going by the way?”

Tylee grimaced again, “Not well. Anyone who will take our offer is not in a position to provide us enough with advantage. Anyone who could offer something substantial wants too many concessions.”

“Do you like any of them?” I asked hesitantly.

She regarded me, “By that, I assume that you mean my heart, rather than my judgement.”

I nodded.

She sighed, “To be honest, I do not know any of them. What I do know is that I have a duty to my house, and that duty must be fulfilled. Were I still a member of the order, I would seek out a companion to whom I could entrust my heart. As it stands, I must make a union which would not degrade my power.”

“That seems very… sad.” I admitted.

Something flashed through Tylee’s eyes when I said that. I knew the woman well enough to see that she too was disappointed by this turn of events. Duty will only carry you so far. It seemed that Tylee was reaching some kind of breaking point in hers.

“For what it’s worth,” I said, touching her arm, “I hope that you can find someone who makes you happy.”

She smiled back, though it was strained, “It is one of many things for which I beseech the goddess every day.”

The moment of vulnerability faded, leaving behind the strong, imposing woman whom I had come to know. Her eyes flashed for a moment as she met my eyes.

“Come Master Dyre,” She said peremptorily, “I feel as though you are playing my emotions to give yourself more time.”

I grinned, “My lady!”

She raised an eyebrow at the shocked note in my voice. I was not fooling her with that. I will not deny that it was part of my intent, but in all honesty, I was worried for Tylee. I covertly watched her out of the corner of my eye as we ascended the steps to the temple. Lines which had previously been absent now ran along the outer side of her eyes, and her brow looked like it spent a little too much time being furrowed. Being the prospective heir of her house was taking a toll on Tylee.

With our banter subsided, the cold sense of dread that had been building since we set out this morning began to grow again. The only thing that kept me moving was Tylee’s solid presence beside me.

“We are here to meet with Captain Quentus.” Tylee said, addressing a skinny man seated behind a desk.

The man squinted up at us through a pair of spectacles, “Ah, you must be the lady Arefina. Wait here for a moment. Boy!”

The last was a shout, and one of a group of young men hurried over to him. He gave the youth instructions, then sent him scurrying away.

“Novices.” The man noted dryly, “I swear that they just don’t make them like they used to.”

I glanced over at Tylee, who was smirking.

“The Sisterhood has no trouble with their dedicants.” She pointed out smugly.

The man peered at her again and harrumphed, “You would be the sister who was a member of the Sisterhood of Light then?”

Tylee grinned, “The very same.”

The man scowled, “It’s funny that you should mention the sisterhood. We had a dedicant in the other day who wouldn’t stop chatting and giggling. The girl likely had little more than air between her ears.”

It was Tylee’s turn to scowl, “This girl wouldn’t have a name, would she?”

The man grinned, “It seems to have slipped my mind as of now. It’s so hard to differentiate the sisters one from another. They seem to be cut from the same cloth.”

I looked between the two of them. It was almost like they were trying to one-up, or in this case, denigrate each other. Was there some kind of rivalry between the orders of the two gods of the Aramorans?

“Who is this then?” The man asked, indicating me, “He’s too old to put on a novice robe, but we could always use more lay brothers.”

“He serves the goddess.” Tylee said primly, gripping my arm possessively.

“I would appreciate it if you two wouldn’t treat me like a bone between two dogs.” I said dryly.

The two focused hard gazes on me. Luckily, I was saved by the return of the novice.

“Master Beckham,” He said, “Captain Quentus has asked me to take them back to his office.”

Master Beckham paused, then nodded, “Very well, but mind you keep an eye on this one.”

He indicated Tylee.

“She’s a member of the Sisterhood, you know how much trouble they can be.”

The novice looked like he would rather melt into the floor than do any such thing, but he nodded weakly. I would have tried to offer him some encouragement, but my own sense of impending doom was making me remarkably silent. Tylee and Beckham’s interaction had distracted me, but now the show was on, I was worried.

The novice led us through a series of corridors adorned with the ubiquitous symbol of Tyr. The image was that of an eye, below which were three vertical commas, as if three tears were escaping it. According to official church doctrine, Tyr had an all-seeing eye. Not entirely surprising considering the fact that he was the patron god of black mages. The tears were a mystery to me though.

“Why the three marks below the eye?” I asked the novice, letting my curiosity out to quash my fear.

The novice quickly responded, “Tyr is the god of justice, mercy, and perseverance. The first is the tear he wept when humans were little more than animals. They were weak of body and had not yet learned to use their minds. With his first tear, he bestowed upon humanity the power of reason.”

“And the second?” I asked.

“When men used their reason to dominate and subdue one another, Tyr wept again,” The novice continued, the story well-rehearsed in his memory, “With that tear, he graced men with the law of Tyr, that all might be judged righteously.”

“How does that work in practice?” I asked, rather skeptical.

The novice tried to puff himself up, “We strive to seek the truth in all things and judge it so.”

“You can’t have that many black mages.” I pointed out.

The young man deflated, “No… But there are a good number of investigators and judges who can do almost as well.”

“What about corruption.” I asked.

Even Tylee looked scandalized at that, “Ethan!”

I shrugged, “When people gain power, they abuse it. Tell me I am wrong.”

Tylee arched an eyebrow at me.

“See.” I pointed out, “All that power has gone straight to your head.”

The novice did not seem to have an answer for me, so I shrugged it off, “What about the third?”

The novice hesitated, “We… do not know.”

Well, that was startling.

“What?” I asked.

The novice shrugged, “The records are silent as to why there is a third tear. It has been handed down to us from the time of the breaking. Some ancient shrines to Tyr in the Broken Lands only have two tears. We assume that it has something to do with the breaking, but during that time… much was lost.”

I was still trying to work out why a religion would leave such a hole in their doctrine.

“Isn’t there a story or something?” I asked.

The novice looked at me with horror, “A fabrication? Of the records?!”

“Ethan!” Tylee snapped, “I believe that is enough.”

I quieted down. Based on the reaction of the two, I assumed that putting something that was not verifiable in these records of theirs was a major taboo. I had met one of the gods of this world, so I could only assume that Tyr had appeared to someone and literally given the people a basis for the laws by which their kingdom was run. Maybe something like the ten commandments from my world? I decided that it was worth looking in to.

We arrived at Captain Quentus’ office without me digging myself any further into the bad graces of the church of Tyr, though the novice gave me a sulky look as he left. I felt sure that the other novices, and possibly Beckham, would be hearing of my blasphemy. Some day I am going to learn to keep my mouth shut.

When we entered, Captain Quentus was working on a large stack of papers. He gestured for us to sit, took a few more moments on the form he was on, signed it, then looked up.

“Lady Arefina,” He said, “Thank you for bringing Master Dyre to see me.”

“Of course,” She said, “I will be remaining in the room for the interview. Ethan is not comfortable with black mages right now.”

Captain Quentus nodded, “If what you told me is true, then I have no doubt that there is good reason for it.”

He turned to me, “Master Dyre, would you tell me your tale, from the beginning?”

I hesitated, looking over at Tylee. She nodded encouragingly. As I spoke, a strange sensation settled over my mind. Quentus was using his magic on me.

As I described the events surrounding my capture and incarceration, Captain Quentus interjected questions of his own. At first, it was just to confirm certain things, but he soon started pointing out various inconsistencies which helped spark my own memory. The man was clearly a trained investigator. At length, I finished the description of my ordeal, going so far as to describe everything up to the point where had I met him.

He sat back and regarded me for several seconds, then spoke, “You are telling the truth.”

“Were you expecting something else?” I asked.

He shrugged, “Even when people know what I am, they try to lie to me. People lie out of habit. You haven’t. You are either exceptionally honest, or you worked out your story beforehand.”

I stayed silent. Quentus watched me with those eyes for a long moment.

“There’s enough here for me to deal with anyway,” He said, “Will you at least tell me that the things you have omitted are not a danger to myself or any other investigators?”

I certainly felt that holding back the fact that I was a white mage was nothing that would cause them any problems, dangerous or otherwise.

“As far as I know, it should not be an issue.” I said, “I would be surprised if it were.”

He watched me carefully, then nodded, “Very well. The lady Arefina vouches for you. I understand that some secrets must be kept. As a devotee of Tyr, I do not like it, but I can understand it. You mentioned that your mind was assaulted by this Solus. Would you like to requisition the services of a mind healer?”

I shook my head, “No. I don’t want anyone in my head right now. Maybe ever.”

“It does help,” He said, “So I am told anyway.”

I clenched my fists, “No.”

He looked down, made a notation on his paper, then looked at me again, “Very well. Then by Tyr’s grace, I pronounce you innocent of any wrongdoing. May you always find truth.”

I nodded my head in acceptance of the verdict, then felt the strange sensation of Quentus’ black magic fade. Solus had been quiet the entire time that I had been speaking with Quentus. I suspected that the echoes of Solus’ magic were particularly susceptible to the use of other black magic. Their sudden return set my teeth on edge.

Quentus scribbled down something on a scrap of paper and handed it to me, “This is a recommendation to Brother Joram at the Sanitarium. When the voices in your head get to be too much, I suggest you seek him out.”

I blinked, “You can hear them?”

Quentus shrugged, “It’s more like an itch between my shoulder-blades. It feels like you were hit by several powerful compulsions. Though based on the cacophony, this Solus was unaware that a proper compulsion requires precise phrasing. He is probably used to being able to bull his way through mental defenses through main strength alone. I am honestly surprised that you aren’t a drooling idiot.”

I shivered, “I think he wanted to use me for something, or at least get some information out of me.”

Quentus nodded, “Black magic is perhaps the only form of magic where being a great soul is more a detriment than a boon. He is likely more practiced at creating thralls by simply overpowering their minds. If he had tried doing so with you, it would have robbed him of the information he was looking for. Do you have any idea what he wanted from you?”

“The only real question he asked me was about my association with the Arefinas.” I said, “Although, from what I was able to discern, he is some kind of… collector. I mentioned the steel mage whom he keeps as a bodyguard. I get the feeling he has more than a few irregular mages hanging around. He might have just wanted to add a gray mage to that collection.”

Quentus stroked his chin thoughtfully. Though he was clean shaven, I got the feeling that he was used to having a beard.

“Thank you for seeing us this way.” Tylee said, rising to her feet, “I hope that we will meet again under more auspicious circumstances.”

Quentus nodded absently, he was still lost in thought when we left. Tylee led me out of the temple and down the stairs leading up to it.

“What is your plan now?” I asked.

“I will be taking you back to Mistress Tanna’s home.” She replied, patting the sword at her hilt, “I arranged with Master Derrick for the use of his forge. I was hoping you would spend some more time with my weapon.”

“I’ll need to stop at the library to gather my bag.” I noted, “I left it with Master Norry. I had been working on something special.”

She nodded, “That is not an issue. It will be good to be away from the manor for some time anyways.”

We traveled in silence, arriving at the collegium grounds in about fifteen minutes. Master Norry was mildly disgruntled to see me.

“Though the library is a repository for information, I would appreciate it if you would not treat it as a common storage facility, Master Dyre.” He muttered, “And you should speak to your friends about their manners. Begging your pardon mistress.”

Norry gave Tylee a bow with that. Tylee’s eyes sparkled with amusement at the dressing down I was receiving.

“Wait, what friends?” I asked.

“That old fire mage who came by after you disappeared,” Master Norry grumped, “Threatened to burn a book if I didn’t tell him where you had gone!”

I shared a look with Tylee, “This fire mage wouldn’t happen to have been a middle aged, muscular man with a short temper, would he?”

Master Norry nodded emphatically, “That’s the one!”

I sighed, “Vesk isn’t exactly a friend… more like an acquaintance.”

Master Norry just glared at me.

“I promise to do my best to keep him out of here,” I said, “Besides, I think he might be allergic to reading anyway. I’ve only ever seen him scowl at written words.”

Master Norry rubbed the bridge of his nose and waved me off. I could tell that the librarian was relieved to see me, it was mostly the way that his wrinkled face had seemed to shed a couple years when I had first stepped up to the desk behind which he was organizing several stacks of literature.

“He seems to like you.” Tylee noted as we strolled towards Derrick’s shop.

“He’s a customer,” I said, “I gave him a treatment for joint pain a few weeks ago. I also spend most of my time at the library. I don’t know about friend, but he certainly seems to have me pegged as some sort of fixture for his library. Like a book that is always being borrowed, it might be gone most of the time, but it always returns home.”

We chatted idly until we reached Derrick’s forge. Upon entering, the large man took my hand in a strong grip.

“Ethan,” He said, a note of relief in his voice, “It does my heart well to see you.”

He released the grip and bowed to Tylee, “And the Lady Arefina, you honor me once again with your presence.”

“Master Derrick.” She replied, nodding her head, “I believe you offered me the use of your back room?”

“Of course!” He said, ushering us toward that area.

Coming back to that little room was like coming home in a way that returning to the Arefina manor never would be. I had spent a lot of time here, laboring with my hands to create all sorts of objects. The workbench in the corner had doubled as an alchemy lab when I wanted to do experiments here rather than trek to the school. Maybe it was my gray magic talking, but when I was in a place like this, I felt a small measure of peace. Nobody expected me to make decisions here, they just wanted me to make objects.

I realized belatedly, almost three years belatedly, that maybe gray magic was just as much a reflection of my heart’s desire as it was my affinity for magic. I loved to create, I loved to build. A small part of the jealousy that had plagued me since I had found out my affinity died in that moment. I wasn’t a cardinal mage, and now, I found that I had never truly wanted to be.

“My lady.” I held out my hand to Tylee.

Wordlessly, she removed the blade from its sheathe and handed it to me. I inspected the blade carefully. I had worked my way through the minor imperfections of the weapon in the hours I had already spent maintaining it. The blade was honed to a razor’s edge, normally a bad idea for such a blade, but not so when it was enhanced by the magic of a gray mage. There would be no point in sharpening it further.

Instead, I went to the worn leather that encased the grip. Tylee had probably owned the sword for at least a decade. It was almost a waste to rebind the handle with leather, but it was the next logical step that I could think of, besides trying to put an inscription on the blade itself. I was not certain how the metal would react to some of my experiments with using acid to etch an inscription into a blade, so I had another plan in mind.

I cut away the leather of the grip, revealing the steel core around which it had been wrapped, then went into my bag.

While I was uncertain of whether I could inscribe something onto the steel of the blade itself, I was not so hesitant about a strip of leather. A standard design for essence storage ran the length of cured hide which I pulled from my bag, along with a simple steel ring that was very similar to my own. I had been devising this in the time between when Megaine had awoken and I had been taken.

In a twist of fortune, my work with enchanting in Solus’ dungeon had made me bold enough to make modifications of my own. I settled down to the workbench and began working an inscription into the leather, connecting it to the essence storage which would power it.

I ruined a good thirty centimeters with false starts, but eventually got the design I was looking for. That completed, I began wrapping the handle of the blade. As I worked, I focused my will on the weapon and the leather. I convinced it that it was a part of the weapon, had always been a part of the weapon. They were not two separate parts, but one whole. The binding appeared to take.

Standing up, I handed to ring to Tylee, “Put that on and stand over there.”

I gestured to the other side of the room. Tylee regarded the ring for a moment, then put it on the middle finger of her right hand. When she had taken her position, I carefully moved myself away from a direct line between her and the blade. My spatial ring did not work by actually moving objects, but I felt that taking a chance would be more than a little foolish.

“When you channel essence into the ring,” I said, “The sword should… well, it should appear in your hand. Just keep an eye on it. It shouldn’t fly at you, but if it does, you’ll need to dodge.”

Tylee looked upon the ring with newfound respect and concern, then closed her eyes. I tried very hard not to blink as she moved into a fighter’s stance.

Her eyes flashed open and a quiet pop sounded in the room. Tylee was suddenly holding the weapon. We both stared at it for a long moment. I broke the silence by erupting in a cheer.

“Yes!” I yelled.

Tylee’s own face broke into a huge grin, and she sheathed the weapon before striding over to me and wrapping me in a bear hug. By the goddess this woman was bone crushingly strong.

“This is incredible!” She gushed, stepping back and summoning the weapon into her hand.

“Careful!” I warned, jumping back as the weapon materialized only a few centimeters from my body.

Tylee had the decency to look apologetic, “Sorry, I just… I don’t believe that anyone in the history of Esturia has owned a weapon quite like this. It will take some time to get used to it, and I will need to think very carefully about how best to use this.”

“It’s range is fairly limited,” I warned, “probably no more than thirty meters. The farther it is, the harder it will be to activate the ring.”

She shrugged, “I don’t intend to throw it around. In fact, I see it as more useful in thwarting a surprise attack or making one. Many men and women have died with their weapons in their sheathes because they did not have time to draw them, or they were on the opposite side of a room when they were needed most. How did you come up with this?”

I held up my own ring, “It’s a derivation of my storage and retrieval inscription set. My bag has a pocket dimension inscription inside of it, engraved on a plate of steel-gold alloy. When I need things, I channel a little bit of essence into my ring and speak the name of the object I want to retrieve. I figured that I could use the same inscription on the ring with a modified version of the storage inscription. There is a pocket dimension inscription on the leather of the hilt, which temporarily drops it into a pocket dimension, only to be immediately summoned by the ring.”

She thought about that for a moment, “Could I simply store the weapon in that dimensional space?”

I shook my head, “I tried that. I think the inscription being dropped into its own pocket dimension destabilizes it. The popping sound, if I am correct in my thinking, is the space collapsing moments after it forms. The inscription set works because the recall inscription summons it in the instant where the pocket dimension is in the act of collapsing. I ah… lost more than a few objects when their dimension just ceased to exist. Being squeezed out of a pocket dimension does unfortunate things to the structural integrity of the object being forced out. Very ugly.”

I had also understood why the merchant had insisted that I inscribe any storage inscriptions on an alloy, rather than pure gold, even though it was harder, and would reduce the total lifetime of the inscription. If that inscription were damaged badly enough, I would lose literally everything stored inside. I had started to hide money in my little room after that, with the hope that if something did happen to my bag, I would at least have some seed money left over with which to start rebuilding my finances.

The merchant keeping the inscription inside of a solid steel lockbox was more than a matter of keeping it safe from thievery. It was to protect the products from being mangled beyond any hope of resale.

Tylee sheathed the sword and faced me, “I believe that you should remain here for a time.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure that it is safe here?”

“Several of Vesk’s associates have been contracted to keep an eye on you,” She replied, “They are not spies, they are adventurers looking for a job between exploring the Broken Lands. They will be nearby.”

“Okay…” I hesitated, “What is this really about Tylee. You were very reticent this morning. You know that you can talk to me, right? I want to help, however I can.”

She took a moment after hearing that. I watched as she pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear, then nodded as she made some sort of decision.

“This is not something that you can help me with,” She said, “It is a matter of honor and duty. I must be alone to make several decisions, and I cannot do that while you are in the manor.”

I examined her features, “Tylee, I-“

“Ethan, please,” She cut me off, her voice quiet, “My shoulders are already bowed under my obligations. Do not increase my suffering. Just let me go.”

I opened my mouth, saw a flash of pain in her eyes, then snapped it shut. I bowed my head and nodded. For now, I would hold my peace.

“Thank you.” She said, touching my shoulder.

I leaned against the bench and watched the door swing shut behind Tylee. Derrick poked his head in to see my morose face. He glanced after Tylee, then sighed and stepped into the room.

“Women are always trouble.” He noted sagely, patting me on the shoulder, “Especially the ones who cannot decide whether or not they want to kiss you or slap you. Like my wife.”

“I heard that Derrick!” Came Tanna’s voice.

Derrick rolled his eyes, then headed back to his shop, “Stop eavesdropping, dearest!”

I looked around the small room where I had been working metal since arriving in Aramor city. Bereft of other things to do and wanting nothing more than to forget the past week, I set to work. If I had my way, no horse in all of the kingdom would be without high quality shoes, and every carpenter in miles would wonder why the price of nails had gotten so cheap.

I thought that I might even pour myself into a few blades or do some artificing. I strapped on my apron and got to work.

That night, when Solus whispered to me, I dove into the little hole I had made for myself in my mind and slept like a babe. The silence was bliss.