“I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” she said softly. “Are you thinking about your friend back in the mines?”

He nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Papa can—”

“He can’t do anything, Anne. I already asked him.”

“But why? He’s a count, you know.”

“That’s not how it works,” he sighed, remembering when he had begged his uncle to help him retrieve Kaila. “Crystellum is in Melsian County, and that’s in the Baldor Empire. If he caused trouble there, our grandfather would punish him. That’s what he told me.”

Anice stomped her foot on the pavement. “Stupid Grandpa. Why does he have to be so mean?”

“Anyway, I’m the only one that can help her. I need to become strong enough to break into the mines, so I can’t waste time playing around.”

“Is that why you’ve started taking lessons from Stason?”

He nodded. “How did you know?”

Just last week, he had asked the stable master to teach him how to ride a horse. According to his uncle, Stason was the fastest, most skilled rider in the county, which was why the man had been hired to oversee Caedmon’s stables. Every other day or so, he spent about an hour in the fields outside of the estate, where he learned to stir a horse into a slow walk, and to direct it to a halt. If things went smoothly, then it wouldn't be long before he had the beast falling into a trot.

“I saw you guys from my room. Is that why you’ve also been bothering Alder so much these days? To learn something from him, too?”

“He helps me control my magical awareness.”

Anice’s little jaw dropped in disbelief. “You’ve come into your magical awareness? Since when?”

“A little after I arrived here. It’s really annoying, so I’ve asked Alder to help me manage it.” Thanks to the chamberlain, he had gained many hints and insights as to how to keep this sixth sense in check. At random times throughout the day, he practiced expanding and withdrawing the scope of his awareness, and manipulated it to strengthen his overall control over the budding ability. It was growing easier to recognize specific signals, and lately he was having less difficulty differentiating between one and another.

“I haven’t even come into mine, and I’m almost eleven…”

“I thought nobles usually came into their energies a bit earlier than most people.”

She hit him, her face turning a shade redder than its usual flush. “Shut up, Alie.”

“Why do you always hit me?”

“Hey,” she said, ignoring him. “I can get why you’d go to Stason and Alder, but why do you spend so much time with the gardeners? Half the time I come to fetch you, you’re planting or pruning, like some servant.”

He blushed, scratching at his cheek with a soil-encrusted finger. “That has nothing to do with the mines. I just enjoy being in the gardens.”

The gardeners had taken a liking to Alistar as of late, since he always found time to drop by and help them with whatever task they were tackling for the day. Usually, his efforts were limited to watering flowers, pruning bushes, or planting seeds. He had recently learned that his mother had loved gardening almost as much as she had enjoyed painting, and that a cherished pastime of her youth was to cultivate and maintain a vast, flowery garden outside of her former home in Carlin, the capital of Civus. After growing up in such a bleak and desolate place, Alistar found solace in the floral scents and the soft, musty soil, and enjoyed helping such pretty plants to thrive.

Anice’s voice woke him from his daydreams, her tone glum. “Listen, Alie. I’ll try not to bother you so much anymore. Just don’t forget to come play with me sometimes, okay?” She turned to leave, deflating a bit with each step. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Alistar felt guilty as he watched her go, though he didn’t have time to address the fact. Dinner wasn’t for another few hours, and he had promised Zech that they could practice some sword swings today, since Mr. Herst was busy this afternoon and he had already finished all of his studies for the week.

Sword in hand, Alistar sprinted to the front gates of the estate. He enjoyed the wind on his face as he waved to the guards that stood sentinel on either side of the cobbled pathway. He stopped to bow his head to both men, and to eagerly ask when they would agree to spar with him.

“Spar, he says,” laughed the shorter of the two, whose name was Harold. “You know, your uncle would have our asses if you were injured.”

“And,” said the bearded man on the left, Rayson, “there’s no way we’d ever agree to fight a shrimp like you. We’ve got reputations to uphold, you know.”

“I’ll get you to agree one day, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Harold. “Where are you off to, anyhow, Alistar?”

His smile was wider than intended. “To meet my friend.”

“Again?” Rayson glanced at the manor house, evidently looking around for a house servant. “That’s every day this week. Are none of the ladies going to accompany you?”

He shook his head. “Uncle says I can go off on my own, so long as I’m back before sundown.” This wasn’t entirely true, since Caedmon had added the stipulation that he had to be with Anice if he wanted to leave the estate without supervision, but this wasn’t worthy of mention.

“Be careful, then,” said Rayson. “More of them demon folk are arriving in the city these days. You can never be too cautious around them.”

Alistar frowned. “Yes, I’ll be careful.”

He ran away from the gate and began the long sprint into town. He usually brought Harold and Rayson some snacks from the pantry, and had shown off his defensive technique to them on three different occasions. They had both been soldiers in Caedmon’s army, and had boasted about taking down a danger beast in their younger days. Alistar enjoyed talking to them, and complimented their armour and equipment whenever they wore a new piece. However, just like most people that he met, these men had a deep hatred for the Drunaeda.

What was Mr. Herst busy with, Alistar wondered, that saw him enter the city on a weekday? As far as Alistar knew, since he arrived in Distan, this was the first time that his elderly friend had gone into Mayhaven outside of a Sunday.

Alistar decided that he would eat at Mr. Herst’s house tomorrow, since the man would surely suffer the ire of the townspeople after seeing to whatever business he had in the city.

He had been focusing on his swordsmanship as of late and thus found himself spending less and less time at the Hanging Hill. Ever since he accepted Zech’s request to relay Tramon’s lessons to him, the two had been meeting by the Greyline River after supper, where they trained endlessly up until the evening's prelude to sunset. It was a nice spot, not entirely closed off but still far removed from the bustle of town, with quite a lot of trees in the area.

Since they had struck up a friendship, he had instructed the other boy to dedicate himself to a strict schedule of meditation. Unlike when Alistar had been forced to endure so many weeks of silent exposure to the elements, Zech hadn't batted an eyelid and had immediately set about cultivating an inner aura. Apparently, it was widely known that the path of a swordsman began with painstaking meditation, which was why Zech hadn’t shown the slightest bit of surprise when he was instructed to do so. Sometimes it could take more than a year for a practitioner to make the necessary breakthrough, though it wasn’t uncommon for others to achieve this in as little as a few weeks. Alistar was one such example.

Distan was the only sort of civilization in the region, so it naturally attracted many of the travellers that journeyed through the Tall Mountains. Many of these people stopped by the tavern that Zech’s family ran, and the boy claimed that parties of frontiersmen were common sights among the crowd. As a tavern hand, he had seized every opportunity to ask these adventurers for pointers about swordsmanship, and thanks to the few decent souls that took him seriously, he managed to gain a vague understanding of how to take the first steps in his training. Without constant instruction and advice, however, he hadn’t seen any progress.