Every morning, the servants of the Marwood estate emptied from their domicile, scurrying about the grounds to see to it that their duties were completed. The groundskeepers worked the gardens and the lawn, while the housekeepers maintained the central manor and occasionally cleaned the barracks. Only a few — such as Chef Oren and Celina — had special roles.

In the past, Stroud worked with the grounds crew. He liked tending to the plants, and he could use his duties as an excuse to sneak over to the training grounds to watch the knights go about their drills. He was pitied by many, so the work assigned to him was never too intensive.

Those first years after his adoption were kind to him. Simple.

But life would never remain stagnant for long. Fate moved without care or conscience, and time… time would see an end to all things good — as Stroud knew well.

After his injury, he was suddenly thrust into the ranks of the chosen few. Baron Marwood made the decision to assign Stroud as Maeve’s personal attendant to reward his loyalty.

It represented an elevation in status, but also in scrutiny. Both Celina and the Baron were paying him more attention, albeit to greatly varying degrees.

In the weeks following his reemergence, Stroud was subjected to an intensive round of lectures on court etiquette at the hands of his mother. He also had to begin taking riding lessons, learn how to drive the carriage, and attend to a whole plethora of bothersome things which detracted from the time he could spend pursuing his newfound objective: learning more about magic.

Suffice to say, he was not pleased with his new role. But he kept his head down and worked hard, and eventually, new doors were opened to him.

At the end of the summer, Maeve began formally studying Arcana, preparing for her transition into adulthood and apprenticeship.

She was self-taught, in a sense. Neither the Baron nor the other Magus working for the Marwood's, Landon, was around or had the spare time to provide her with introductory lessons before she actually began cultivation. There was also no possibility of hiring an outside Magus to serve as a tutor as their services were much too expensive for a minor noble house.

Instead, she could only rely on the books gathered over the years by her family; which were limited in both scope and breadth, considering their availability to the general public. And as a result, Maeve quickly grew frustrated with her task.

Her whole life, she always had someone like Celina at her side to assist her with all she needed, and the girl also suffered from a lack of general patience. Thus, without a supporting hand at her back, she was like a small boat adrift in a stormy sea. She gave her best to navigate the turbulent waters of information, but try as she may, the task appeared too daunting. The waves of confusion relentlessly battered her. She was completely lost.

Without anyone else to turn to, she looked to Stroud. And he quickly became her beacon of hope — an island to anchor herself to.

As for his part, Stroud was more than willing to participate in her studies as a tolerant confidant. He read through the passages with her, absorbing the information voraciously while copying two sets of notes: one for her and one set for himself.

In his mind, pursuing anything unrelated to Arcana was an ineffective way to spend his time, so he acted accordingly. He prepared ahead of the study sessions, planning explanations and activities in order to extend their work as long as possible. It was his priority to eke out as much time with the books as he could while no one would pester him to sweep the hall or practice serving tea.

And for a long while, he managed just that. The days flowing smoothly by as the winds inevitably took on a chill and the earth grew cold and hard.

It wasn’t until the first snowfall — after the third Lunar Crossing of the year — that Stroud’s schedule began to take on another significant change.

***

Back straight. Head level. Eyes forward.

Just as Celina had taught him.

Stroud pushed open the heavy double-wide doors of the manor house and strode inside.

He walked through the vaulted entryway with all the poise and elegance befitting his position as a special servant of the Marwood household, only pausing once to pull off his gloves and briefly glance over the neatly arranged antique furniture. After confirming that all was as it should be, he nodded to the familiar housekeeper dusting off a bust of the late patriarch, Christopher Marwood.

“Stroud! What brings you here today?” the elderly woman probed, a bit too enthusiastically to come across as a casual question.

Stroud dipped his head politely, taking no offense. To find him walking outside of Maeve’s shadow could be considered an unusual sight indeed.

“I am here for an appointment with Baron Marwood and steward Landon. My 15th birthday has just passed a few days ago,” he clarified.

Birthdays in the Terram Vagari didn’t have much cultural significance. People were generally healthier — including babies and young children — thanks to the mysterious energy pervading the atmosphere. And those who had an appropriate aptitude to harness it could live for hundreds of years if they grew powerful enough.

Still, not all birthdays lacked meaning. There were a few considered major turning points in everyone’s lives, one of them being the 15th. It was generally accepted that one’s mind and body could finally be considered mature or well-developed enough to begin cultivating their energy centers. Namely, the Sea of Nura and the Spirit Locus.

“I see…” the housekeeper mused, appearing somewhat disappointed as she turned back to her work. “Then I wish you luck,” she added offhandedly.

Stroud tutted inwardly as he bid her farewell. Shouldn’t Maud be getting on with her retirement? The woman held nary a sliver of arcane energy within her body and she had to be nearing her late 60s based on her looks. Clearly, her life was approaching its end; yet, she insisted on continuing to clean the main hall, day after day, so that she could gather gossip from the comers and goers.

He wanted to warn her, to scream out that she should cherish what little time she had left, and spend it meaningfully. How could she be so complacent?

But wasn’t I the same once…. Stroud sighed as he began his tromp up the wide, imperial staircase to the second floor, taking the steps two at a time. He knew better than to spend his effort interfering in the personal affairs of others. Stroud firmly believed that he only needed to focus on himself and continue to advance.

Determination burned in his chest, and when he reached the landing at the top of the stairs, he turned left, working his way up another staircase towards the western wing where the Baron’s study was located.

Running his hand across the length of the railing as he walked, Stroud temporarily immersed himself in feeling the gloss of the polished wood beneath his fingers. He inhaled the damp, musty smell hanging between the walls and he listened to the softly echoing whispers of the other servants as they moved about their business...

Despite having spent almost half a year in this world, he still reveled in the most mundane of sensations. Simple things, like the morning bird calls or the gentle caress of a warm breeze, sent calming waves through his heart.

He knew well enough now not to take a single moment for granted. Every second needed to be squeezed dry for all it was worth — because he was still a long way from beginning to scratch the surface of the truth.

The journey here would be far more arduous in many ways than his time in the Chasm, Stroud continued to reflect. This world was fraught with peril; he needed focus, determination, and likely a bit of luck if he was to accomplish all that he desired.

And he would never… never… allow himself to return to that pit of unfathomable darkness and despair again.

Stroud took a deep breath to calm himself as he stood outside the study door. He knocked twice, fixing his face into a pleasant smile.

“Come in,” the muffled voice of the Baron sounded from inside.

“Good afternoon, my Liege. I hope this day finds you in good health — despite the foul weather.” Stroud bowed formally as he entered and then inclined his head to the other man seated next to the Baron. “And to you as well, Sir Landon. I’m glad we finally have the chance to formally meet.”

He took a quick glance around as the men turned their full attention towards him.

The study was a rather small but cozy room. Tall bookcases framed by ornate wood trimmings wrapped around the space, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The Baron and Landon sat in leather armchairs at one end of the room, flanked by a crackling fireplace, while Stroud stood near an unoccupied desk that he seemed to garner a lot of use. A multitude of ink stains, scratches, and chips in the earthy wood scarred its surface.

Baron Marwood was the first to reply to Stroud’s greeting, “I’m doing well, my boy. Doing well indeed. Though it is true that this snowfall is shaping up to be a nasty one.”

“Fate is always fickle that way,” Landon chuckled dryly. “It is always the poorest of harvests that yield the harshest of winters.”

The Baron groaned, massaging his temple. “...No need to remind me. Part of the reason I gathered us at this busy hour was to avoid speaking with Celina about these troublesome matters.”

Landon shook his head and turned his attention back to Stroud, pushing his spectacles up his nose as he spoke, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well. I don’t wish to breach any sore memories, but I would like you to know that it has been my sincerest regret that I wasn’t here to deal with that deplorable official in your place.”

The blond-haired man spoke with a cordiality unbefitting his position, but his gaze was as sharp as one might expect. Stroud knew he was being measured. And he needed to demonstrate his value if he was to receive what he wanted.

“Please, do not concern yourself with such things. No man can be everywhere at once. And your duties are of great importance. I only wish you to have peace of mind in your work.”

Landon was someone Celina spoke well of quite frequently, and he was said to share the same forthright nature as Baron Marwood. If only to mask his shrewdness, Stroud detected. But more important than his character was his status. The man was an official Magus and the fiefdom’s liaison in the principality’s capital.

It was likely that he had access to the most information of anyone at the manor, so he was at the top of Stroud’s list of people to get in the good graces of.

“I see Celina has taught you well,” Landon smiled wryly.

“Too well,” the Baron added with a snort. “But enough with the pleasantries. Stroud, I’ve already warned you that aeditari will be difficult — if not downright impossible — given the lingering effects of your injury. Without an intact Sea to accumulate Nura, there is no future in cultivation for you.

Hidden deep within Baron Marwood’s hardened gaze, there was a hint of profound sadness. Stroud knew the man wasn’t trying to discourage him or put him down. No, the Baron was just letting him know the harsh reality of the situation.

“...I would still like to know my affinities,” Stroud spoke slowly, but neither Landon nor the Baron was put off by his hesitation or request. “It should be useful information, regardless; and my Spirit Locus yet remains intact. Thus, with the assistance of external resources, I should still be capable of casting a spell or two in times of peril.”

“Very well. Then let us proceed. Landon, if you would…?” The Baron gestured at the man sitting beside him.

“Of course. It would be my honor to do the reading for the young hero.” Landon reached down for the dark leather satchel resting next to his chair. His hand fumbled around inside for a moment before he procured a small lockbox.

With a pleasant click, the latch sprung open, revealing five finger-sized gemstones of varying color. Scanning from left to right, Stroud paid careful attention to the aura of each crystal; they all had a distinct presence, evoking subtle feelings as they resonated with his soul.

“We’ll start here,” Landon announced, holding up the prismatic stone that shimmered with multiple hues. One moment it emanated heat, the next a biting chill, and so on. Compared to the others, it was much more scattered in nature. Versatile.

A flash of muted light burst from the steward’s hand as the gem leaped into the air to hover in front of Stroud. Seeming to contain a life of its own, it dipped and ducked, twirling around his body like a precocious little sparrow.

After only a few seconds, it withdrew back into Landon’s grasp where he inspected it carefully. “Low elemental affinity,” he remarked in a neutral tone, to which the Baron nodded.

Stroud frowned subtlety. Anything below an average affinity meant the person would be incapable of gathering enough Nura to advance as a Magus. They would be forever trapped in the ranks of an Apprentice.

Next up was the transparent gemstone — which more closely resembled glass than a mineral extracted directly from the earth. Gleefully, it darted around Stroud, filling him with a sense of raw, unadulterated power. In addition, he thought he could hear a low buzz emitting from it. Quickly, the noise captured more of his attention, increasing steadily in intensity and tempo as his heart raced faster and faster to keep up.

Blood roared in Stroud’s ears as the chorus reached a fevered pitch; and all at once, his mind, body, and soul shuddered in the wake of a silent shockwave of energy.

As Stroud recovered, he saw the gem plummet to the floor.

Baron Marwood sprung to his feet, an indecipherable mix of emotion flashing across his face as Landon hunched down to retrieve the crystal.

“Supreme Primal affinity,” the steward’s voice was low, almost reaching a whisper. He pulled out a quill and some parchment from his bag to make a note.

“Ah... excuse my outburst,” Baron Marwood chuckled dryly as he sat back down, sinking low in the chair. “Let’s press on.”

The following trials only continued to further astound the two men, Stroud noted. It was found that he had an above-average affinity for both the Malignant and Sanctus Disciplines of Arcana. And finally, an average resonance with the Conspiris crystal rounded out the results.

“I think that’s about everything, Stroud,” Landon spoke with trembling hands as he locked up the case and tucked it away.

Taking note of the tense glances the Baron was exchanging with his steward, Stroud felt it necessary to dismiss himself from the room. He had acquired the information he desired, and there wasn’t much left to be said.

Now, he could only hope they would value his potential and strive to find a suitable healer for him.

“Thank you both for playing along with my selfish request. I should be getting back to my duties.”

“R-Right... pass on my regards to Celina.”

“Yes, of course,” Baron Marwood’s breathing was growing heavy as replied. “Send Maeve my way when you see her.”

“It shall be done, my Liege.”

Upon receiving an acknowledgment from the Baron, he bowed and ducked out of the room with haste. As the door closed softly behind him, Stroud finally allowed the broad grin that had been building in his chest to creep onto his face.

The results are much better than I anticipated…

Affinities were supposed to be derived from the ‘inclination and strength of an individual's body and spirit in relation to the core competencies of a Discipline’ — as described by the Magister who had written the Fundamentals of Arcana textbook Stroud had been working through with Maeve.

Therefore, disregarding his bloodline, he had suspected that his affinities may end up scattered all over the place due to devouring so many souls.

And while it was true that they were — his spirit seemed to have accumulated quite a bit of power to compensate for that. The final result was that he would excel in 3 of the 5 major Disciplines of Arcana. And that left Stroud with plentiful opportunities...

***

“Landon… are you positive that those resonance crystals are working properly.”

“Of that I am certain. I checked them personally just before the meeting.”

Baron Marwood’s chest heaved up and down as he stewed in impotent rage. “That damned official—! I swear I will see him dead by my own hands!”

Landon sighed, still attempting to ease the quaking of his heart. “Walter, you must erase those notions from your mind. Prince Ajax would see you under the headsman’s ax should you lay a finger on that man.”

Walter Marwood stilled, the armrest of his chair splintering under his white-knuckled grip. “Then you’ve completed the investigation, I take it?”

“Indeed. The man is known as Falke of Fairvault, and he is one of the most accomplished commoners to emerge from the Nenean Trials since your father. Before the age of 25, he has managed to advance his Spirit Locus to the edge of the second layer and completed the first major Cycle in his Sea in its entirety. You know as well as I do that Ajax values talent above all else and will not abide by anything that complicates his upcoming campaign for Redenia's throne. Falke is likely to receive a title of nobility should he complete the next major Cycle and become a fully-fledged 2nd Order Magus before 30.” Landon pulled out the full report he had prepared and handed it over to the Baron.

Walter only needed to spare it a quick glance to see the long list of Falke’s transgressions. “If talent is all he wants, then surely he would favor Stroud over this capricious man!”

“While beneficial in many ways, the strength of one’s affinities does not equate to true talent in cultivation, Walter.”

Baron Marwood stood up, pacing about the room as he spoke, “You can still say that after meeting the boy? He is steadfast. And mature well beyond his years.”

Landon followed the Baron back and forth with eyes, but his expression remained neutral. “That… I can agree with. But the fact still remains that his Sea is crippled.”

“Gah—! If only my spells were more suited for the healing of others… This is driving me mad!” The Baron clenched fistfuls of his thick, russet hair.

“If you can say that — imagine how the boy must be feeling.” Landon's tone was sour.

Walter instantly deflated upon hearing those words. “...Is there nothing we can do?”

Landon hesitated. “I’ve asked around with my contacts in the capital, but healers are scarce up here in the north. They’re well-received anywhere they go, so why wouldn’t they travel south, into Redenia proper — where the climate is more temperate and the resources more abundant…”

The Baron slumped down into a chair at the table. “Enough, enough... I get it,” he said as he waved a hand weakly, “Do you think it worthwhile to broaden our search?”

“I think we should wait until after Maeve’s reading. It’s only a few weeks until her birthday, and it won’t be too late afterward to stake it all on Stroud.”

Walter frowned. “I at least owe it to the boy to try, Landon. I do not wish to end up becoming a man like the prince who treats his subjects as tools.”

“You’re right. I apologize for those callous words. I’ve been spending so much time in the circles of the capital that I have a tendency to forget myself. I’ll send out feelers into the kingdom as soon as possible.” The steward marked down another note.

“Good. And may the gods finally bless us with some fortune…”