“Hey, mom? Can I stay over at Ryan’s tomorrow?” Micah asked as he headed into the kitchen. He had no trouble sounding excited, like he would have been had he actually wanted to sleep over. He had a little more trouble sounding casual. But really, he just needed an excuse to not be home by dinner for once … or not home at all. “Or any other day this week?” he added, in case tomorrow was too sudden.

In the sitting room, his dad put down his magazine and looked up.

“Hm?” his mother hummed idly as she filled up an old glass at the sink to water the plants. “Why do you want to?”

The question almost stumped him. “What do you mean?” Didn’t people his age stay over at each others’ places all the time?

“Well, you’ve never been one for sleepovers, Micah,” she explained. “And you two spend all day together anyway. Why not just meet up early in the morning?”

“I, uhm—” he started and thought, didn’t have friends before now. “He invited me over,” he lied and added the one line he had prepared. “So we can stay out really late.”

“What for?”

“To hang out with the others,” Micah said. “Walk around the city and stuff. Maybe play some alleyball or hang out at the bridge when it’s dark.”

“Up to no good, huh?” she asked, sounding amused.

He smiled. “Yeah. So, can I?”

“Absolutely not,” his father said and slapped his magazine shut. He put it down and joined them in the kitchen.

Micah's smile fell. “Why not?”

“Because you are still under house arrest, young man.”

Micah almost cringed. He had been hoping that they would have forgotten about that by now. Or that he could talk them out of it. but guessing by his father’s tone—

“Or have you forgotten that again already?”

He definitely remembered the last time they had to worsen his punishment.

“No, but I was hoping—“

“And besides,” the man spoke over him. “I won’t have you running around at night with that Ryan boy, getting up to who-knows-what.”

That Ryan boy? A few weeks ago he’d wanted to invite him over to grill together, and now he was acting like Ryan was some kind of delinquent … which he really wasn’t. He had a perfect report card, and Micah’s parents knew that. As far as they were concerned, he wanted to work at Westgate or a pet shop someday.

His father seemed unreasonably angry all the sudden. What the hell was his problem?

“Oh, let him have his summer fun,” his mom mused. “Ryan is going to that school in Nistar in the Fall, right? They won’t see each other as often anymore after that. It’s important to make friends.”

“Yes,” his father said to his mother. “Ryan is going to a school in the Fall and Micah still has two years of classroom left. Why would he—” He broke off and said in a more formal tone, “Micah, you don’t want to be a burden on him.”

“I’m not a burden,” Micah insisted. “I’m his friend.”

His mother looked at him with equal parts parental pity and pride. His father looked at him with condescending doubt. Why? They were friends. They hung out together almost every day. And his parents both knew that. Micah wasn’t a burden … right?

“You have friends in your own grade, too, don’t you?”

“I do, but—”

“Why don’t you hang out with them?” He didn't say it like a suggestion.

“Think of it this way,” his mom said softly as she watered the plants. “You’ll have only a few more months to hang out with Ryan, but you’ll have years to spend with your other friends.”

“He’s not dying.”

“No. Of course not. But he will be very busy once he starts school and he will live a whole district away. Plus, he’ll make new friends there. People he’ll see every day and spend more time with.”

“You’ll drift apart,” his father interpreted. Blunt.

“No.” Micah shook his head. “We won’t. Ryan isn’t that type of person.”

“Sweetie, just because some people drift apart doesn’t mean they’re bad people.” She put the glass down and ran a hand through his hair, but Micah just jerked away and backed off. “That’s just life,” she told him. “You’ll still know and see each other from time to time.”

His father grunted as if he didn’t even like that idea. “And why would you want to hang out as the youngest boy in that group anyway?” he asked. “Why not make a new group with the ones from your own grade?”

Because Micah literally didn’t know any of them. The only person he knew from his own grade was Camille.

“Maybe even find yourself a girlfriend?” he added.

Micah immediately thought of Anne and blushed. What kind of question was that?

“He blushed!” his mother exclaimed.

“So there is a girl you fancy?” his dad asked, suddenly excited.

“No,” Micah said. “There isn’t.”

“Who is she?” his mother asked.

“There isn’t anyone.”

“Oh, you can tell us.”

“Leave me alone!”

“Micah …” his mom tried, but he was already running off to his room. He heard her saying, “See what you’ve done?”

His father still sounded happy as he replied, “It’s for the best.”

Micah slammed his door shut.

“Here,” he said as he handed Ryan a bundle of flowers the next morning. “Hold this.”

“Uh, what?”

The guy took them with a frown while Micah leaned against the doorframe to wrench his shoes off. He tossed them aside and snatched back the flowers, grunting, “They're for your next breeze potion.”

“Oh. I’m guessing they said no?” he asked.

Micah didn't bother replying.

Instead of heading for the stairs, Ryan headed for the kitchen, so Micah tossed the bundle down on the bottom step and followed him. The wolf crystals and his alchemy supplies were in Ryan’s room anyway. He’d just make the potion later. Now, he threw himself into one of the chairs at the table and sulked.

“It’s probably for the best,” Ryan said, sounding eerily like Micah’s father. It made his neck bristle like a Sapling. “Camping in the Tower would have been dangerous,” he cautioned, like always.

“That’s the freaking point, Ryan!”

“Hey, you’re angry at your folks,” David said, stepping out of a pantry. Micah hadn’t even seen him there. “Not us, bud.”

Micah was a little surprised to see him here at all. He’d thought Ryan would be here alone, since his own parents always worked and, well … he opened the door. Then again, Ryan’s dad took a lot of evening shifts. He had to be home sometime. And apparently, that was Monday morning.

Micah bowed his head a little, properly chagrined, and said, “Sorry, sir.” He saw Ryan’s expression and added another mumbled apology for him. But how else was he supposed to level up if he didn’t push himself?

“Don’t think about it too much,” David said. “I’m sure they’ll come around.”

Micah had already been grabbing to that hope like a lifeline. Not just about his parents easing up on his punishment, but that they would accept him not hating the Tower like they did. Now, he clenched that line a little tighter.

“Maybe …” he said as if testing the word out. “Maybe I can ask them again in a week or something? My mom was on-board with the idea.”

David shrugged a smile.

Ryan didn’t say anything, but put a few pages down in front of him instead.

Micah didn’t need to ask to know what they were. It said so right on the top. The application forms. “You got them already?”

“Yeah.” Ryan sat down with a copy of his own and handed him a pen.

“Woke up at the brink of dawn, this one,” David said. “Got them first thing in the morning.”

“I made a slight detour to my morning run,” Ryan mumbled. “Got the shield appraised and checked up on some item values. It’s no big deal. I mean, you had to get up early to get the flowers, right?”

“Flowers?”

“I bought them at a stall on my way here,” Micah explained. “So the shield, is it …?”

“Yeah, it has Growth,” Ryan mumbled. “And apparently, it’s called a Treantbranch Shield. It’s worth about a gold penny. Maybe more. Not sure if I’ll sell it.” That was a little more than a third of what Micah had saved up, but Ryan acted like he didn’t even care. He just nodded at his papers and said, “Read the questions carefully before you fill them out. I already screwed one up, so we only have one copy left.”

He was brushing the shield under the rug. Micah glanced at David, but he seemed equally unperturbed.

“Oh. Okay then.”

Filling out the actual application forms for the Guild lightened Micah’s mood a little bit, because he couldn’t help but think he was actually doing this. And a small, angry part of him liked it, too. What would his parents think? He hoped they would accept it, but if it would also be nice if they could feel as angry as he did about them. The process didn’t take all that long before they were done and afterward, he was left feeling hollow.

And then what? he wondered. His parents would get angry and then what?

He held his application forms gently, as not to make them wrinkle, and wrung his other hand instead. Ryan had two brown envelopes to put them in for safekeeping, but as he laid them into a drawer, Micah spotted two more envelopes lying inside already with white pages poking out.

“What are those?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, those are my other applications,” Ryan said as he headed down the hall.

Micah followed him like a ghost. “Other applications?”

“Yeah. One of them is for that school Lang wants to go to in Nistar. It’s actually pretty neat. Or as he would say, nea-t.”

But … Micah had thought that they wanted to go to the Climber’s Guild together? He remembered his parents’ words and tried to look at it from their perspective. Or rather, from Ryan’s. Of course he would apply to multiple schools. There was no guarantee Micah would even make it in and if he didn’t, Ryan wouldn’t want to go there on his own in the first place.

Was Micah really just a burden?

“The other is to Millfords,” he went on, and Micah was entirely lost. “They don’t have a duo-program for Biology and Sports like the other school does, but they do have one focussed entirely on Biology, so I can just opt into a Zoology focus during my third year.” He frowned a little. “If I do three years …” His expression quickly eased up again and he glanced back, “So in case you, uh, can’t go to the Guild, we can still hang out then.”

Micah could have hugged him right then.

“You’re not going to Millford’s so you can hang out with Micah,” David called as they headed up the stairs.

Micah snatched up the bundle of flowers.

“Pick the school that’s best for you!”

“Yes, dad!” Ryan called back.

Micah glanced down the hall at David, a little hurt.

Thankfully, the man added, “You’ll have plenty of time to hang out on the weekends. You know, like every other normal human being?”

“I got it, dad!” Ryan called back.

“You’re not conjoined twins!”

“Whatever you say, sir!” He rolled his eyes at Micah.

“Don’t 'sir' me, you little—”

Ryan hushed Micah inside and shut his door.

Honestly, Ryan was glad that Micah hadn’t gotten permission to stay over. He would have been even if he had actually wanted to, but Micah would have wanted to spend a night in the Tower instead. And Ryan just wasn’t looking forward to camping in the Fields or some tunnel, fighting off monsters by crystal light, and constantly worrying.

He knew they would have to do it eventually—expeditions were a part of most climbing curriculums—but that was supposed to be something he’d only have to worry about in a year or two. Not now.

So on Tuesday while they headed to her house, Ryan could focus on feeling awkward about Lisa again.

He didn’t know how to act around her anymore, since, well ... she was the Dragonslayer’s granddaughter. And he didn’t really know her, did he? She was more of Micah’s friend anyway … Although she hadn’t listed him as one of her friends last week. What was up with that?

Mave opened the door for Micah when he knocked. Softly. Micah had suggested the reason why Mave was always so grumpy might be because Ryan always pounded on doors instead of knocking politely.

Ryan suspected Mave would still be grumpy if they sent a letter ahead of time asking for permission to knock at his best-move convenience. And lo and behold—

“Lady Lisa isn’t here right now,” Mave repeated and Ryan almost cursed at him.

“Where—” Micah started.

But thankfully—and miraculously—the man broke into a grin. “I’m just messing with you. She’s in the sitting room.”

Huh. Mave had teeth. They were white.

“Hey, there, Mave … “ Micah said and slowly stepped around him, like he was an unknown monster. Funny that he did that now and not when a freaking Sapling was hugging his shin. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“And I would tell you why,” he said as he closed the door and they took off their shoes. “If I could trust either you any further than I can throw ... Wait, no. You two barely scrape the hundred, don’t you? I can throw you far enough.”

“Hundred?” Micah asked.

“Pounds,” Ryan explained.

“Oh.”

He weighed more than just a hundred pounds, though.

Ryan busied himself with sizing the man up. He hadn’t really thought of it before, but now ... Mave was in about his early to mid-thirties and always wore a shirt and pants that looked casual, but were clearly some kind of uniform. He was probably just a [Janitor] or [Housemaster], right? Maybe even a [Butler]?

Although he was serving the Dragonslayer and Moonstrider, so …

“Are you from Anevos?” Ryan asked.

Mave blinked at him and gave him a sliver of a dangerous smile. “Lady Lisa is waiting for you,” he said.

Whatever he was, he was the combat version, not the normal one. Ryan definitely hadn’t paid enough attention. He took a step around the corner and came face-to-face with Lisa jogging on the spot.

She was wearing a long skirt, had her staff in one hand, and a small pack on her back. Actually, Ryan thought he remembered that outfit. The moment she saw him, she bent over and propped herself against her knees to catch her breath, sweating a little.

“Hey, Lisa,” Micah said, but she ignored him. He leaned over to Ryan then and whispered, “They’re acting weird, right?”

Ryan nodded vehemently.

Then Lisa straightened up and ripped her skirt off, tossing it aside. Underneath, she wore normal pants. She must have noticed Ryan’s perplexed look, because she said, “They’re just fashionable. Or actually, they aren’t anymore. I should probably get rid of them ...”

Why was that so familiar?

“Hello, there. I’m Lisa Chandler, budding [Summoner],” she said and held out her hand to him. “I’m mostly relying on a Teacup Salamander’s patterned crystal right now and it's only from the first floor, but I want to improve it into something better.”

Ryan suddenly understood what she was doing and almost groaned, but still tried to remember the words. “Uh, hi,” he said slowly as he shook her hand. “I’m Ryan. Budding [Fighter]?” It was half a question and Lisa nodded. He had gotten it right. And then he remembered: “I copy monsters.”

Her eyebrows shot up a little. “Really? You copy monsters? How does that work?”

This whole thing was so awkward and embarrassing, but she was so nice about it. Ryan couldn’t help but like her.

She was introducing herself to him again.

“Uhm, guys?” Micah asked. He looked lost next to them, so Ryan decided to change the script.

“And this is Micah,” he said. “He’s an independent [Alchemist].”

“Oh, cool. Is he like your little brother?”

“No,” they both said in unison.

“I mean, we look nothing alike,” Micah added, sounding a little bit worried as he glanced at Ryan. Probably because he didn’t want to hurt Ryan’s feelings. But he needn’t have. Ryan was right there with him.

Micah as his little brother … that would be weird.

“Wait, Lisa Chandler?” he asked to switch topics. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to, uh, Garen Chandler?” He said it carefully, because he didn’t know if she wanted him to go there.

“Oh, yeah,” she said and waved her arm down, as if to brush the thought aside. “But he’s not all that, really. He’s childish and lazy, and basically retired.” Next to him, Micah nodded along to everything she was saying. “If you met him, you wouldn’t even notice. But I guess I can get you an autograph or something, if you like?”

Ryan would like that, but she probably wouldn’t.

“Uh, no. It’s fine,” he said and tried not to blush, and tried not to be too disappointed. “But thank you ...”

“Just checking—”

“But maybe for my dad?” Ryan added as an excuse.

“Huh?”

“For my …” He shook his head. “Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

Lisa squinted at him. “Alright then. So are you two like classmates then?” she asked. “How did you end up climbing together?”

“I’m just really, really stupid,” Micah answered for him. Apparently, he had no idea what was going on but chose to go along with it anyway. Because of course he would. “And Ryan’s too awesome to let me go off on my own. He’s keeping me from getting myself killed.”

Ryan almost scowled at that, but Lisa smiled.

“Ah,” she said. “Then I’ll try to do the same.”

She would? Tentatively, Ryan pocketed his scowl away for later.

“You don’t have to. Ryan is more than enough. I can really look after myself.”

“That's good to hear. Completely unrelated question, but can I ask where you got those scars?”

“I, uhm— I own a cat.”

“You own a cat?” she asked, deadpan.

“Yep. Totally.”

They exchanged a few more pleasant and not-so-pleasantries, and some other generic stuff about themselves, but quickly ran out of script to improvise. Then they stood around awkwardly for a moment, until Mave called from the hallway, “You’re all weird!” And it broke the illusion.

Lisa actually laughed as she headed into the kitchen. “So what do you want to do today?

Micah leaned against the back of the couch and slipped off his backpack. Ryan flanked him, but they both glanced at the hallway as Mave strutted past. He had his sleeves rolled up now and they strained against his upper arm as he carried a broom. He was still grinning.

Ignoring her question, Micah asked, “What’s up with him?”

“Oh, he’s just happy because someone put in a retrieval request for Tooth of Seven,” Lisa explained.

Ryan almost slipped off the couch. “No way! But you just said Garen was retired. Is he going climbing again?” He couldn’t believe he actually got to be an … acquaintance? … of Garen Chandler, and find out stuff like this while it was happening.

But Lisa shook her head. “He is retired. He didn’t put in the request. The Guild did it in his name and only told him about it when it was too late to revert. It’s politics basically. But the gist of it is that once it gets here, Garen is going to slay a new type of monster on the thirteenth floor for them.”

Micah perked up a bit. “A dragon?”

Lisa’s cheery demeanor darkened for a single, “No.” Then her cheeky smile was back. “They’re calling it a Titanic Salamander, although it isn’t titanic at all. I mean, compared to Sam over there”—She pointed at the kitchen isle, but Sam wasn’t there. The stove was on—no wonder why Micah hadn’t joined Lisa in the kitchen—and there was a pot on it, but Ryan couldn’t—

The water slushed a little. Sam was sitting in the pot over a low fire on the stove.

Ryan blinked. What?

—”It might be titanic,” Lisa went on. “But they skipped ‘Giant,’ you know? What are they going to do when an even bigger Salamander shows up?”

“Tag on ‘Dire’?” Ryan suggested absent-mindedly.

Lisa sounded disgusted. “Dire Titanic Salamander?”

Micah looked a little concerned, and Ryan remembered himself. “Don’t worry,” he told him. “It’ll be years before we can go to the thirteenth floor.”

That seemed to both cheer him up and bring him down at the same time. Ryan should have phrased it differently.

“Uhm, is Sam okay?” he asked now. Just to be sure.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Lisa said, but she didn’t even look back to check, so Ryan didn’t know if he could trust her judgment. She must have seen the look on his face, because she added, “I’m just trying to figure out if I charge it up with heat essence from an outside, mundane source.”

“By putting it in hot water?”

“Yeah. Plus, I need to know how high temperatures it can handle.”

“For what?” Micah asked.

Lisa shrugged. “Stuff.”

Ryan wondered if there was some kind of Summoned Monster Protective Services. But then again, Lisa seemed overprotective of Sam, too. She probably wasn’t going to do anything harmful to him … right?

Thankfully, she must have seen something on his face again because she scowled.

“Fine, I’ll take it out of the pot!” Lisa turned the stove off. Sam almost tried to climb out on his own, but she fished him out instead and caught the handle before he could knock it over.

“Happy?” she asked as she set him on the floor.

“Generally, no,” Ryan admitted.

“Same,” Micah added.

Lisa brushed her hair back and looked amused. “Why?”

“My parents won’t let me sleep over at Ryan’s place because he’s a delinquent,” Micah said.

“I’m not a delinquent.”

“My dad thinks so … probably.” He frowned.

“Ryan’s a delinquent?” Lisa asked. “That’s cute.”

“I’m not a delinquent,” he repeated.

“You’re not allowed to have delinquents in the house!” Mave called from … somewhere.

“I’m not—” Ryan started, but shut up. He brought out that scowl he’d pocketed away earlier instead and bumped Micah a little.

“So … Honey Ants?” Lisa suggested.

Micah gave Ryan a look, but he was too busy scowling to share it with him. “Uhm, actually,” he said as he reached into his backpack. “We already went there yesterday.” He brought out one of the two fully-formed Honey Ants they had managed to scrounge up.

It had only been a short trip, but thankfully, Neil let Micah work earlier now that they had summer break. That way, they could make trips into the Tower under the week in the early afternoons and still be home before dinner. Ryan wondered if Prisha and Neil knew that was how they were spending their free time.

Yesterday, he had spent his while Micah was working hanging over the edge of a bath until his skin turned wrinkly, then lounged around in the common room in a way-too-comfortable robe they offered there, got invited by Ed to play cards with some of Micah’s extended family—they all cheated—and then lounged in an outside bath again. Its temperature had thankfully been cold that time of day.

By the time Micah had joined him, Ryan had become one with the water and practically been sleeping with his eyes open. The memory sort of made him uncomfortable. He had spent hours walking around in an oversized towel and done nothing. Tomorrow, he was going to ask if he could help out, or if Neil refused again, train in the yard instead.

“And, uhm, on Sunday we kind of went to the Fields?” Micah said, sounding sheepish. But he needn’t have—Lisa had bailed on them after all. He did it anyway.

Lisa nodded as she poured out the pot and said, “Sorry. Something came up with that Tooth of Seven business and I had to leave with Garen. But it’s great that it didn’t ruin your day. How was the trip?”

“Oh, you know,” Micah said, scratching his healed cheek a little. Ryan scratched his leg as well. He thought he could still feel the cut there underneath the sensation of a fist holding the wound closed. “It was the Tower, like usual. We did find a treasure chest, though, with a new shield for Ryan.” He grinned proudly. “It’s enchanted with Growth.”

“Oh, Growth is great,” Lisa noted. “Even as a component.”

Component?

Ryan cocked his head a little. He hadn’t decided whether or not he wanted to use the shield yet, but he hadn’t really thought about handing it to a smith for further workings. If they whittled down the bark and branches a bit and then hammered a ring around it, added a supporting frame, maybe they could make it a proper wooden shield with loose durability and self-repair enchantments out of it.

And if it didn’t work, Ryan could always just regrow the original. Huh.

“We also found some other stuff,” Micah was saying. “But none of it’s enough to do anything with, I think. Uhm, so I was wondering if—”

Ryan bumped into him a little and cleared his throat before he could get distracted by alchemy again. They had talked about this.

“Huh? I know. I was about to ask her,” Micah said.

“Just making sure,” Ryan mumbled.

Lisa put the pot back in its drawer and was looking at them expectantly.

“First things first," Micah said under his breath. "Uhm, Lisa? You said your aunt could proof people? I was wondering when she might have time, and how much it would cost … and, uhm, whether or not she keeps copies for herself?”

“Now, nothing, and no,” she said and stepped back up to them.

“Wait, now?” Micah asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“Uhm, alright, I guess …” Micah trailed off and scowled. “I mean, fine. What’s point anyway, right?”

Lisa gave Ryan a look.

“Again, parents,” he explained.

"Ah."

A moment later, they were crowded on a walkway over the yard in front of Allison Reed’s office, and Ryan felt far too agitated again. He kept on glancing down at the yard, as if he could somehow use that as an escape route. It was a long ways down. Maybe if he broke his fall on the banister?

Lisa knocked. They let her do the talking.

The woman sounded happy enough when Lisa asked for her help, but when they walked in and greeted her, her expression shared none of that emotion. Ryan remembered how dismissive she had seemed by Micah the last time they had met. She probably thought he was just an opportunist tagging onto Lisa and Garen. Now, Ryan sure felt like one himself. But Micah definitely wasn’t.

He suppressed the need to say, It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am, after greeting her and instead just stood back next to Lisa while Micah sat down.

He’d heard stories of the woman on the other side of that desk, of how she could watch entire stretches of forest from the night sky and shoot down any intruders. And here he was, standing right in her office—

Lisa kicked him in the shin.

Ryan grunted a little in pain.

“Do not try to resist the appraisal process in any way or form,” Allison lectured Micah in a drone tone that Ryan had heard from other appraisal workers before. At the same time, she was creating a basic Proof Of paper's outline on a sheaf in front of her. “It will only make it uncomfortable for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Micah piped.

"Do not tamper with the document after it has been stamped. Sign here." She shoved it over and pointed. A moment later, she cast, “[Appraise Individual],” and waved her hand down, as if parting a curtain.

Ryan enjoyed the minimal theatrics. The gesture was probably unnecessary, after all.

Ms. Reed immediately started writing something down and glanced at Micah every now and then, as if she could somehow read the Skills off of him. And maybe she could? Appraisal spells put information in a way the caster could understand it. And since she worked a lot with her eyes, maybe she saw them visually?

How awesome was—

Worried, Ryan glanced at Lisa to make sure she wouldn’t kick him again, but she wasn’t standing there anymore at all. Garen was. And he was nodding along a little, as if he was listening to something he agreed with. But nobody was speaking at all.

When he had he stepped inside? When had Lisa stepped away?

“She does it the cool way,” the man whispered. “Some appraisal workers have you tell them all of your Skills and detect whether or not you are telling the truth, then just stamp it off for you. But it’s much more exciting when someone digs around inside your spirit to find the Skills themselves, don’t you think?” He glanced at Ryan.

“...yes, sir?”

Garen shook his head a little and slung an arm around Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan peered down at the hand lying there. “But I mean, like, what if they find some hidden power buried deep inside of you that you didn’t even know about yourself?” He gestured outward with his other arm. “Some super Skill? How cool would that be? When I was your age and got appraised, I’d always feel this tingly feeling in my chest. Pure excitement.”

Ryan was feeling that exact sensation right now, but couldn't help but notice how Lisa and Ms. Reed were both glaring at Garen.

“Done,” the woman said and brought a stamp down. She handed Micah the paper without taking her eyes off him. “Here. Have a nice day.”

Micah got up slowly, transfixed by the paper, but then paused and sat back down again. “Uhm, ma’am?” He pointed at something and held the paper over the table to her, but she didn’t look.

Instead, she squinted at Garen a little more. “Yes?”

“You wrote— I mean, it says here I have the Skill [Candle], but I think I lost that Skill?”

Weirdly enough, she blinked, her expression softening, and frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“I, uhm, I mean I’m not sure, but I can’t use it anymore? I’ve tried, but it won’t work.”

“Do remember losing the Skill?” Her voice was much more patient and professional now, if still a little curt.

“No, but I can’t use it.”

“That’s strange.” Had he piqued her curiosity? “When was the last time you’ve been able to use it? Have you seen anyone about this?”

Ryan suddenly felt uncomfortable for an entirely different reason than the arm around his shoulders. She didn’t know that Micah was afraid of fire. And there was no good way for Micah to tell her. He already looked like he wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“He had an accident,” Ryan said politely.

Understanding lit up in the woman’s eyes.

“Oh,” she said. “I forgot— I’m sorry. You can lose Skills to trauma, Mr. Stranya, but if you still have it, then you can also still use it. You just need to overcome whatever is holding you back.” She smiled a little reassuringly.

Ryan did, too, even if Micah couldn’t see it. That was good news, right?

Micah looked uncertain, but nodded. “Uhm, and you wrote down my Path as just [Warrior Path]?” he asked, but his heart wasn’t in it. “It’s supposed to be [Of the Warrior Path], I think ...”

Garen finally took his arm from Ryan’s shoulder and stood up straight, his left hand resting at his hip.

Ryan sighed in relief.

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked and stepped closer.

Micah glanced at her. “Uhm, yes?”

“Hm, do you have an foreign blood in you?” Ms. Reed asked, but she was back to ignoring Micah again. Instead, she was looking at Lisa and Garen and tapping her pen against the table in a slow rhythm. It still left dark blots of ink in the tan wood. “I mean, ethnically speaking, do you know if any of your family immigrated here from the second generation onward?”

Ryan had wondered the same thing before, but never asked. Sure, the Tower people were a cooking pot from all over the world—and supposedly two others, if you believed the myth. But he didn’t know anyone else named Prisha and Micah looked a little foreign.

“... I’m three-sixteenths Bavish?” Micah offered.

Aha! Ryan thought … what’s Bavish?

Ms. Reed’s eyebrows went up and she smiled, looking down at him again. “Your grandparents are a long way from home then.”

“333 days,” Micah said, brightening a bit himself. “I mean, that’s the story my Nana always told me. The trip isn’t actually that long, is it?”

She seemed to consider. “It can be. If you take your time and enjoy the journey. The scenic route, if you will. But it’s much quicker to travel by boat. Two to three months depending on which ship and route you take. It might even be just a month with an Overseas vessel.”

“Uh, excuse me?” Ryan butted in. “But where is … Bav?”

Ms. Reed smiled at him. “The Bavish are a people, not a nation. Supposedly, they descend from Bavel, a holy man in the Linnic religion. They mainly come from Western Lin, North of the Illic Isles if you will. Historically, their roots have been landbound. You would probably find most of them in Teln nowadays.”

Ryan nodded. He knew some of those words.

He thought back to his geography textbooks, but most of what they taught focussed on national topics, not whole other continents. None of those names said anything to him other than Lin, the name of their neighboring continent. Still, he knew the general world map and could loosely place it.

333 days to the West, his mind summarized.

He mumbled, “Wow,” in understanding.

“Yes,” Ms. Reed said. “Half a world trip.”

Lisa and Garen looked a little bored by the conversation, because they were looking at each other as if having a silent one of their own.

Micah didn’t notice them. He shook his head. “My great-grandparents were already travelers. They grew up near here, so it wasn’t really a world journey. My Nana was the only one of my close family who ever traveled far from the Towers.”

“Ah. Well, that’s a shame. There’s a lot to see out there. I would encourage you to trav—”

“But everyone’s too obsessed with the Towers to go anywhere,” Lisa interrupted her, despite her words agreeing with Ms. Reed’s. She said it as if she somehow disapproved of the Towers. Ryan frowned a little. Hadn’t she moved to the city so she could become a climber herself?

Lisa walked up to Micah and put her hands on the back of his chair. She stepped close and almost leaned over him, as if she wanted to take a look at his Proof Of paper. Instead, she started across the desk.

“So, my Path?” Micah asked.

“... It’s probably a mistake in translation,” Ms. Reed told him, still frowning at Lisa for interrupting her.

“A mistake in translation?” Micah asked it as if he couldn’t believe those existed.

Ryan knew of them, but he’d never known anyone who had one. Now, he knew Micah.

“Immigrants who have managed to receive Skills in their lifetime, not just through their descendants, often see those in their native language,” Ms. Reed explained. “And children who grow up bilingually sometimes have small errors in their Skills. We typically correct these to the proper version on Proof Of papers. That looks better on applications, too. Trust me, you will want to leave it this way. It would probably be best if you just referred to it as [Warrior Path] when asked.”

Lisa grumbled something under her breath.

“Oh.” Micah sounded disappointed and slowly got up. He remembered his manners and said, “Uhm, thank you ma’am.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said with a smile, and held out her free hand to him. The other was still stabbing the desk with her pen every now and then. Micah needed a moment before he caught on and shook it.

“I wish you good fortune in your alchemical endeavors,” she said. “It looks like you have a real talent there. You should pursue it.”

“Huh? Uh, thank you, ma’am,” Micah said and Ryan knew he was blushing. “I’ll try my best.”

“He does,” Lisa agreed. “And he will. I’ll help him.”

Ms. Reed dropped her pen with a smile. Her scar made it look like a sneer. “Then I’m glad.”

As they said their goodbyes and walked out onto the walkway, Ryan commented, “So you are a little foreign. Do you speak another language?”

“Huh? Uhm, no,” Micah said. “I mean, I know how to tell someone to brush their teeth, or brush their hair, or sit up straight. But I— Wait, you thought I was foreign?”

“Well, yeah,” Ryan said. “But only a little, because, you know, your skin is darker than mine?”

“Oh.” Micah nodded in agreement and joked, "But that's not hard. Lisa's skin is even a little darker than yours." They glanced at her, but she didn't seem like she wanted to be in on the joke.

Instead, she asked, “So you just assume everyone that looks different from you is a foreigner?”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Well, that’s racist.”

Micah glanced at Ryan and whispered, “What does that mean?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know either.

Lisa must have seen, because she gave Garen standing in the doorway an incredulous look. Ryan felt a little embarrassed by his lack of vocabulary in front of the Dragonslayer, but Garen just gave her an abandoning smile and scratched his ear before he shut the door in their faces.

Only then did Ryan realize he had forgotten to ask him for an autograph again. He couldn’t ask Lisa either. Maybe next time, then? … Or maybe he could ask Micah to get one for him?

As she led them away, Lisa explained in an annoyed tone, “Racist is when you think poorly of someone else just because they look different than you.”

“Oh, I’m not … that ... then,” Ryan said. “I don’t think poorly of Micah.”

For some reason, Micah almost missed a step, but quickly caught up and, after a moment, punched Ryan’s shoulder, saying, “Thanks.”

Ryan smiled. “No problem.”