A loud and resounding bang followed Stroud into his room as the door slammed shut.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he stood solemnly in the darkness. Thin rivulets of blood seeped between his fingers, dripping onto the cold stone floor. His heart beat rapidly in agitation, but surprisingly, the cluster of thorns that was wrapped around it actually trembled and loosened its grip.

It feared the dense pit of anger building inside the vital organ — but so too did Stroud.

Dread and doubt were vices he much preferred to fury and hatred.

Rage was an overwhelming emotion that would devour all other thoughts and feelings. And Stroud very clearly recognized that he couldn’t afford to act rashly.

He’d tried being a bit clever, intending to conceal his aims from Mar Vincent, but the Magus had seen through his amateurish ploy with a single glance. Admittedly, it wasn’t a whole-hearted attempt at deception — as Stroud didn’t think there would be any severe consequences for simply seeking out a few spiritual herbs… But he’d underestimated the reach and severity of the conflict between Lady Adelais and Prince Ajax within the city.

Clear lines were drawn between the two, and he already fell on one side. He was truly lucky that Mar Vincent was one of the few who remained rooted in the middle.

Unfortunately, this realization also greatly hindered Stroud’s plans to gain strength right under Lady Adelais’ nose. With circumstances as they were, if he wanted to complete a round of Blood Steeping, he would likely have to acquire most of what he needed through any official channels the Headmistress already had in place.

Releasing a deep sigh as the tension in his hands eased, Stroud decided not to seek out Miss Harmont or others like her any further. They were harmless people just trying to eke out a living like anyone else, and he didn’t want to unnecessarily drag them into danger by involving himself with them.

Still, there’s always a way forward...

Stroud took another step toward his desk, but as he did so, a dry crinkle sounded underfoot, interrupting his momentum. He hunched over and lifted the letter caught beneath his boot.

Curious, but also apprehensive, Stroud carried it over to his desk, fumbling around to light a candle and take a look. A tiny corner of his mind held out hope that it wasn’t what he thought it was...

But alas, his worst fears were realized and his fingernails dug back into the wounds they’d just left behind. Written in bold, messy script was a simple note:

Orders from Headmistress Adelais

Issued: Spring, Day 37 of the First Crossing

Servant Stroud of the Marwood house is to report to room 205 in the upper halls at tomorrow’s first light. Further instructions will be disseminated at the destination.

Failure to check-in will result in punishment.

The Adelais family crest was stamped below the message to verify its authenticity.

Venom seeped into Stroud’s eyes as he glared at the brilliant white wings that fanned out from behind a silver kite shield.

It came sooner than he anticipated.

In immediate need of a distraction, Stroud snuffed out the light and stormed off toward Maeve’s room.

***

“...I just can’t get it right, Stroud,” Maeve groaned. She furrowed her brows and wrinkled her nose as she stared with disgust at the poorly drawn spell sigil on the square slip of parchment.

Before she had a chance to toss it into the waste pile to accompany her previous attempts, Stroud grabbed the page from her hands and looked over it carefully.

“How many times did you lift the quill on this attempt?” he asked while his eyes traced over the dark lines.

Maeve squirmed in her seat. “I think it was seven… No, six this time!”

Seeing her meek smile, Stroud could only swallow his retort. His count was at least eight lifts, but her pride and motivation were already fragile as it were. With care, he posed a question, “And you said that a talisman similar to this will only achieve 30-35% of the spell’s original efficiency?”

“Yea… Well, I’m only using normal ink now, but if I were to do it for real — then, that’s correct.” Stroud hummed his acknowledgment, but seeing as he didn’t speak, Maeve began spilling all her grievances: “It’s just not fair. Instructor Alen assigned every group a different sigil, but this Spark that I got stuck with is definitely the hardest… And 50% efficiency is just impossible, anyway! I met with a few others in my lecture this afternoon, and even Evelyn — who’s the smartest — only got up to 40%, she said…”

Stroud placed down the mock talisman and turned his attention to Maeve. “Oh? And which course is this for again?”

“Introduction to Inscriptions,” Maeve grumbled unhappily as she folded her arms. “Instructor Alen just spends all his time appealing to the highest-ranking heirs, like Lord Ernhardt! His group got the Water Spout sigil, of course… ”

Chuckling to himself as he watched Maeve pouting, Stroud pulled a chair over to her desk and sat down. “Let me give it a try. Celina has given me a few lessons in calligraphy, and I may be able to provide you with some advice after I experience it for myself.”

Instantly, the girl brightened up. “Really!” She practically shoved the stack of animal skins and the inkwell over to him.

“So… the goal is just to draw the sigil with as few strokes as possible, correct?” Stroud asked as he readied himself. Spark was only a basic elemental cantrip, classified as a Tier 0 spell. It was composed of two runes — lightning (conversion) and an expulsion (principle) — and both were fairly simple in design. After taking a few glances at the reference sheet Maeve was using, he’d already memorized its entirety.

Stroud had no intention of engraving a Tier 0 model into his mindscape, but learning more about foundational rune combinations like this was a first for him — and an eye-opener at that. It made him realize just how important a wide base of knowledge would be to his future development as he could already envision a myriad of uses for little talismans such as Spark, Water Spout, and how their runes fit into higher tier models.

If I’m successful, maybe I can convince Maeve to let me hang on to a few of these...

“Yea, yea!” Maeve affirmed, drawing Stroud out of his ruminations. “It’s a lot like engraving spells in our Spirit Locus — in the sense that you want lines to be as accurate and fluid as possible. Though, it becomes a lot harder to achieve that when using a brush and ink...” Her face puckered into another sour expression as she trailed off.

“Right.” Stroud nodded as he dipped the thin brush into the well.

He mostly understood the point that Maeve was getting at. Engraving spells within the mindscape was a three-dimensional process. There was a depth to the markings, and you could more easily pick up where you left off. With ink, however, a disconnect would form every time the brush was lifted. And it was also more difficult to maintain the uniformity of the lines.

Drawing a talisman required experience regarding the amount of ink required, a suitable starting point and path through the sigil, and most importantly — the application of a steady and continuous pressure with the brush throughout.

Keeping all these things in mind, Stroud focused himself and began to draw.

The first few attempts didn’t even reach the stage of completion as he would realize halfway through that he’d made an errant turn at one point or another. And while the talisman diagram did possess markings that indicated the most efficient path to take, Stroud didn’t want to rely on rote memorization to complete the process. He had an inclination that feeling out a proper path with the brush would give him more insight into the design of runes, and allow him to more easily identify starting points — as well as focal points — on unmarked spell sigils.

Additionally, as a result of his experience with engraving the Imbuement of Strength sigil, Stroud had discovered that he possessed an artistic flair and a poised hand that he’d never fully realized until working within his Spirit Locus. Although, it was unknown whether this talent of his was lying dormant within the original incarnation of Stroud, or if it was something he’d picked up during his time devouring souls in the Chasm.

But in either case, it was a great boon to his current self as there was a lot more drawing involved in being a Magus than he could have ever anticipated...

His hand hovered over another blank slip, and just like it had in his mindscape when he first began engraving, the gift manifested itself now. Tranquility engulfed Stroud as he immersed himself deeper into his task.

Hazy memories unwittingly surfaced, and the flowing motion of his hand grew increasingly adept, seeming to mirror the lazy meandering of the brook in the Marwood’s fiefdom. He traversed smoothly across the parchment, unbothered by the rough texture and gradient of the land which he treads across.

Under Maeve’s watchful gaze, everything began to proceed effortlessly after successfully completing his first mock talisman... Sheet after sheet piled up next to Stroud, but an uneasiness began to rise up from below his confidence the more he familiarized himself with the movements. The bubbling doubt continued to build into a boil until Stroud’s stomach abruptly flopped over and the brush trembled as it lifted.

“What’s wrong…?” Maeve queried. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes flickered back and forth between the diagram and the blemished markings.

‘That’s odd…’ Stroud thought, drawing his mouth into a thin line. He ignored Maeve’s face — that had drawn so close to the page that she was practically sniffing it — as he sat back for a moment to contemplate.

Despite his reservations about his own mental instability, more than anything... Stroud still trusted his gut above all else.

By all means, his finished pieces looked like an almost exact replica of the original model. But try as he may, he couldn’t shake that feeling that something was off. For a few moments, he tried to decipher the source of his uncertainty, but instincts were never so ready to openly reveal their answers; and therefore, Stroud could only resume his efforts and try to work it out through further trial and error.

In short order, another fresh stack of mock talismans were piled up in front of him on the desk.

“Wow… Stroud, that’s amazing…” Maeve uttered breathlessly as the two of them took a break to bask in shared appreciation of the results. Excitement and eagerness glimmered in the depths of the girl’s speckled irises. Ever since Maeve had begun her cultivation, their original brilliant emerald glaze had slowly taken on a golden hue. It now looked as if bright sunflowers were ever blooming in her gaze.

“Ah, thanks…” Stroud scratched his head, sheepishly. It was really a simple task for him, so it made the earnestness in her adoring smile almost difficult to bear.

Ignorant of his embarrassment, Maeve bounced excitedly in her seat. “How many lifts was that last one… only two, right?”

“Yea.” Stroud agreed, frowning slightly. He glanced again at the mock talismans now shuffling through Maeve’s hands. Although he still wasn’t able to exactly pinpoint where he was erring while drawing the spell model, he did begin to gain an understanding of its core principles.

The lines that composed Spark were jagged and acute in their angles; while the runes themselves appeared almost… lively — like they were ready to jump off the page. Overall, it was very different from the powerful and deep-set strokes of the Imbuement of Strength Stroud was the most intimately familiar with.

‘I haven’t captured the essence of Spark,’ he finally concluded after more reflection. But whether the fault lied in the diagram Maeve was supplied with or was an extension of his own artistic intuition — he couldn’t determine.

“So… think you can handle the real thing?” The hope laden in Maeve’s voice wafted into Stroud’s ears, prickling his guilt.

He sighed. “I could, but… isn’t it more appropriate for you to complete the task, Miss?” The life in the girl’s eyes wilted, but he didn’t relent. “How will you complete the assignments tasked to you in the future if I help you out now. I may not always be around when you’re in need of a talisman…”

Stroud thought his warning would set Maeve straight, but unexpectedly, it seemed like he’d given her the out she wanted.

“That’s alright! You see… this course is only temporary — part of the introductory lectures to help us pick out a supporting vocation to pursue. I’ve already learned enough to know that Inscriptions aren’t for me. I want to practice Alchemy instead!” Following Maeve’s eyes, Stroud exhaled another long breath as he looked at the newly arranged planters in front of the windows and at the workstation.

When he’d arrived with the seeds earlier in the evening, she’d immediately got to work planting them inside suitable soil and positioning them according to the levels of sunlight they’d need when they sprouted. And after hearing more about the spells she planned to engrave in her mindscape, it was undeniable they were all well-suited for nurturing plants and spiritual herbs.

Still, he couldn’t let her off so easily. “If that’s the case, then what use is there in me producing an excellent talisman for you? Wouldn’t that just attract instructor Alen’s attention? And what if he asks you to demonstrate in front of the apprentices?” There was a myriad of reasons why passing the work off to him would hurt Maeve in the long-run.

Seeming to realize this as well, Maeve turned away and her voice became small, “I may have made a bet with Sybil… Also, it wouldn’t be an issue if they learned that you completed the talisman. As nobles, our vassal’s skills can be considered a part of our strength...”

Yet another sigh escaped Stroud’s lips. “Fine, give it here... I can help you out this time, and with any talismans you’d like for your personal use, but any official assignments you receive in the future will have to be completed through your own efforts.”

Ignoring his stern glare, Maeve cheered and swapped out the regular inkwell for the one containing the special mixture of Spirit Beast blood and ink. “Thank you, Stroud! And don’t worry, there should be enough talisman ink for at least five attempts.”

“Alright… Alright…” Stroud shook his head and relaxed his wrist as he steeled himself for the task.

In the end, he chose not to try anything out of the ordinary with such a limited amount of materials. If he only had enough for five talismans, he would make sure five usable ones were produced.

After all, Maeve only needed one for herself, and he didn’t think she would mind if he pocketed the remainder…

***

Pausing on the stairwell as he always did, Stroud inhaled a deep breath, gazing intently at the rays of sunlight scattering over the wall. They glanced across the rooftops and weaved through the rising smokestacks in a brilliant illusory dance.

Separated by the window, their warmth evaded him. But as Stroud reached into his coat and felt the slight bulge in the lining of one of the inner pockets… his chest swelled with reassurance all the same.

The brambles clutching his heart loosened for the second time in as many days as he averted his eyes and strode into the second-floor corridor of the Sanctum’s upper halls.

However, this time, the thorns feared not the raging fires of anger. Stroud smiled faintly as his knuckles rapped against door 205.

Hope had arrived when he’d least expected it. And his grin broadened as the visage of Lady Adelais that was oppressing his mind was replaced by Celina’s gentle and warm eyes.

‘Continue on… always…’ her voice reminded him.