It wasn’t long after Alan had crossed the doorstep of his home, before his father found him, a stern look clear on his face. Alan had honestly forgotten about the conversation awaiting him at home, and at this point he almost found it more annoying than frightening to think about the consequences of his father finding out about his secret magical practice. It just didn’t seem as important as the fact that Marissa was probably lying in a bed, hurt and scared, being abused by her own father. No, this was nothing in comparison, and he decided to come clean about everything. There’d been enough lies going around lately.

“Let’s talk, Alexander, we have some unfinished business.” The voice was cross, but Alan didn’t let it get to him, and responded almost casually, “Sure dad.”

They sat down in the living room, Naida was in the kitchen preparing food. Alan was actually surprised he’d made it home in time, until he remembered that he’d skipped school almost entirely that day. His father didn’t seem to know where to start, so Alan decided to plunge right in.

“Look, dad, I know I promised you I’d never practice lightning magic again, but I just can’t resist. It’s so much more than what this world thinks of it, and I really do know a lot more about it than almost anyone else. I do realize that I’ve broken a promise, though, and I’ll take responsibility for my actions. So go ahead, pronounce your judgement, and let me serve my sentence.”

“You- I, wasn’t - you what??” Alexar seemed taken aback at this sudden turn of events, making Alan finally remember that the intended focus of their discussion was the weapon he’d made, and not his magic. He might as well come clean about that too.

“I know, we were supposed to talk about the strange contraption, right? Well, it’s a weapon. It operates on lightning magic, though nothing visible, so it’s hard to guess even while seeing it in action. Think of it as a crossbow, just without the classical limitations that usually apply. It’s just current that decides the speed of the projectile, nothing more. With enough current, it can achieve basically any speed you want it to, assuming you don’t melt the projectile or the rods in the process.” Alan went into professor mode almost without thinking, and didn’t realise until he saw the completely clueless face of his father. “Right, sorry, old habit.”

They sat there a while longer, until Alexar finally pulled himself together, remembering that he was in fact angry, and a lot more angry now, that his son had broken an important promise.

“For disobeying me like you have, your just punishment will have to wait. You will, however, be helping out your mother in her shop for two weeks as a start.” Alexar was clearly trying to be angry, but he didn’t seem to have all that much practice at it, and landed somewhere between berating and awkward. “And I suppose it is finally time that you learn about the price of the arrangements I made according to your wishes, after you distinctly promised that you’d only practice fire magic for the rest of your life. It will be what I described as your “just” punishment, a life sentence, if you will, but it will not start for a few more years, so you should enjoy your time as a free man as long as it lasts.” A small, almost vicious smile crept up Alexar’s cheek, and Alan winced when he realized where this was going.

“No, you didn’t?! Why would you even consider something like that?” Alan started, fear slowly entering his voice.

“Yes I did. This might have been a proud house once, a noble bloodline with strong mages, but alas, nothing lasts forever. You didn’t think personal tutoring would come cheap, did you? Why would any sane man give away his family’s carefully protected secrets for a small bit of coin? No, I’ve signed a contract of marriage in your name, to a certain Aelia Ildmane, daughter of Aquillus Ildmane. It will unite both our houses, and be beneficial for both our lines. Aelia haven’t shown much aptitude for magic, but she’s a fine young woman in her own right, you should feel honored that Aquillus is willing to part with her in this arrangement. Now, he gets a son in law to carry on his family’s legacy, we get a powerful legacy for our future head of the family, and everyone is satisfied. And the best part is, this is all on you, for making a promise you knew you couldn’t keep. I would never have arranged for this, had you been honest from the start about this horrible lightning magic you insist on trying to commit suicide with.” Alexar was now sporting a smile which the Germans had an apt name for; “schadenfreude”.

“I refuse.” Alan simply stated. There was no way that he’d let himself be sold in some kind of bargain to save a dying house. “I refuse to take part in this arrangement, I refuse to marry this Aelia.” Alan adamantly stated.

“How can you refuse to marry her, you haven’t even met her yet.” His father countered.

“And where I come from, that in itself is a perfectly valid argument not to marry someone!”

“This is where you come from, son! This kingdom, this city, this noble house named Moltus. And this is how it’s always been for the nobles. Do you think I married your mother out of love? I, as the heir of a dying house in severe lack of funds, was naturally arranged to marry the daughter of a wealthy merchant, who had no ties to the city and desperately needed shelter. I didn’t object, when my father told me that it was time, I did my duty to my house, as should you, ungrateful child. I learned to love Naida, as she learned to love me, out of necessity. It is the politics of the nobles, and laugh about it if you want, but you are still a part of this household, and you will follow our rules.” Alexar kept his face stern through the entire explanation, before letting his frown fall off until only a tired look remained.

“It’s best this way, Alexander. I know it doesn’t sound like that right now, but this is the way it has to be. Frankly speaking, this family’s been on its knees for a while now, since the expected money infusion from your mother's family never made it to Patros. By that time, we were already married, and nothing could really be done about the situation, so it’s all up to you now. Go become a mage, marry Aelia, and restore this house to its former glory, or at least as close as you can get.”

It made him nauseous. This entire world, goddammit, was so infuriatingly backwards in some aspects. He didn’t grace his father with any reply, and simply walked to his room with heavy steps, before slamming the door shut behind him. Throwing a tantrum like any other child felt like the correct decision right now. It was just utterly ridiculous. Why was it so damn important to honor the family, and bring glory to it? He’d probably be fine marrying any commoner from anywhere, and it wouldn’t be like his parents would lose their status as nobles anyways. He’d be able to bring in some money, somehow, and they’d be able to live out their lives as they wanted anyways. What did the family honor matter to them after they were dead?

It didn’t make any sense, but on the other hand, it’s not like this was completely unheard of in Alan’s old world either, where family legacies had a much smaller role than here. He guessed it all came down to the cultural differences, but understanding that didn’t help him accept it in the slightest.

He lay down on his bed, deciding that he wouldn’t get any further mentally debating the issue tonight. Perhaps Catherine had a solution, she seemed to be quite knowledgeable about a lot of things, though if she’d help him just like that was entirely up to debate. Or not really, the inevitable conclusion was that she’d definitely not help him without extracting some sort of price. It might still be worth it, was Alan’s last conscious thought for the evening.

Alan woke up the next morning, feeling surprisingly refreshed. Naida made breakfast as usual, and reminded him that he had to come by her shop after school to serve out his “sentence”. It wasn’t really her shop, she just worked there together with a few other ladies, creating clothing and dresses for the wealthier part of the local nobles. Alan guessed his job would be either cleaning or sewing, and he desperately hoped for cleaning duties. Worst case scenario would have him handling customers, but he doubted they’d use him for that, considering how important it was for them to treat their customers with the utmost respect. The idea still didn’t put a damper on his mood, as he felt that the punishment was somewhat justified. The arranged marriage though…

Alan got to school without too much issue, fully expecting to see Marissa’s cheerful appearance in her usual spot. She was nowhere to be seen. Catherine seemed to notice as well, the moment she entered the classroom, and immediately went over to Alan’s desk. This clearly angered Drake, who actually tried to give her a rose when she passed by, which she had completely ignored. Points for effort, Alan thought, even though Catherine clearly hadn’t thought the same.

“She’s not here, is she?” Catherine opened, a tinge of worry in her voice.

“Not that I’ve noticed, no. She might just be delayed, though I highly doubt it.” Alan answered, through clenched teeth.

“I know father said we’d have to look for alternate ways of helping her, but I racked my brain on it for most of yesterday evening, and still haven’t come up with anything. Please tell me you’ve been more successful.” There was hope mixed into her last sentence, at least until Alan’s shaking head registered.

“Dammit!” Catherine suddenly announced, startling several of the other pupils. Drake’s face had gone from angered to completely furious, probably courtesy of Catherine’s rather familiar behaviour towards Alan, but Alan couldn’t really be bothered to care about him at the moment.

There was so much going on at the same time, and Alan couldn’t do anything more productive than crash his head into the desk and hide beneath his arms until someone else sorted out all his problems. He felt completely powerless, with no idea how to proceed in any of the issues troubling him. “I can’t believe I didn’t spot it before,” he uttered into the desk, “I’ve been trained to spot things like that too.. I’ve just never seen it up close.. I think.. I’m not so sure now, actually…” His mind drifted, going through all the potential victims of his many classes back at the university. Had there been some victims of abuse among them? Probably, statistically speaking, almost definitely. He’d been blind for it all.

“Don’t berate yourself too hard, I didn’t connect the dots until I saw Sara either…. It’s always difficult to tell, because the victims often blame themselves, because of this stupid society’s view that anything that happens in a marriage is supposed to happen, so if anything is wrong it’s automatically their fault, or something similar. I don’t really know, and I’m rambling... “ Catherine was rambling, that was new.

“Did you just try to comfort me?” Alan asked, incredulously.

Catherine didn’t really react much to his question, blandly answering in nothing but a small whisper. “I suppose I did. I just want Marissa back. I want her bubbling curiosity, her cute little squeaks at everything she finds embarrassing. I want to tussle her amazingly red hair. I-,” She suddenly awoke from the almost dreamlike state, embarrassment flaming up her cheeks. “Shit, I said that out loud, didn’t I?” She looked straight at Alan, who had lifted himself up from the desk, to look her in the eyes as if to confirm what he was hearing. Catherine’s embarrassment quickly turned to anger, “Don’t you dare mention this to anyone!” She hissed out, ready to strike at anything she deemed a threat.

“No no, no need for violence here. I’m just surprised you genuinely cared so much for her, I thought this entire thing was more like a personal crusade against the patriarchy.”

“It’s that too, I suppose. Argh.. There’s so much wrong in this world, I don’t even know where to start making it better” Catherine let slip. For a short second, Alan almost asked if she, too, was from a different world, but quickly thought better of it. This was not the place to go into that sort of discussion, and it wasn’t like she’d shown any recognition when he’d laid out his life to her and her father. The classes were soon underway, and Alan finally had something to focus on, and distract him from everything else.

At the end of the day, Catherine fell into step beside Alan as he made his way towards his mother’s workplace, opposite of the direction she usually went. Alan slowed down, as the implication was clear she wanted something, even if she was fidgeting about getting it out of her system.

“Alan… I’d like to confess a few things to you, if you’d be alright about it, that is.” Catherine started carefully and in a thin voice, so utterly out of character for her that Alan almost laughed. Almost, being the imperative word, as listening to student’s worries was something he’d actually had both training for, and practice in, so he quickly reeled in his expression and tried his best for a calm and trustworthy appearance.

“I… eh… have another reason for what you called my “personal crusade”, though I don’t understand exactly what you referred to, than just hating the patriarchy, as you suggested… You heard me, earlier today, and didn’t show disgust at the thought, in stark contrast to everyone else who I’ve barely even broached the subject with. Additionally, Marissa seems to trust you implicitly, even to the point of letting you hug her, which I can assure you she wouldn’t let any other man do, with the things she’s been through. Like I said earlier, that little bit of info didn’t make it into my mind before we visited her house, but her always keeping a small distance away from anyone of the opposing gender makes a lot more sense now. Anyways, she trusts you, and I’ve found that I’d like to do that too, since there are things I need to talk about with someone who isn’t inhibited by the incredibly outdated mindset that you’ve surely seen examples of in this city. I needed a-”

“Catherine, you’re rambling again.” Alan said carefully, trying not to startle her too much, and it had the intended effect.

She took a deep breath, “You’re right, I should just get to it, I suppose. I’m not actually the daughter of Magnus, as I’m sure you’d guessed already, which is the other reason I almost never bring anyone home. He’s old, very old, and I don’t think he’s been fertile in quite a few decades, though don’t tell him that, he’ll be livid. What I’m saying is, he rescued me from the woods. From raiders, specifically. Then he officially adopted me, for which I am eternally grateful. And now I come to the heart of the issue.” Catherine paused, visibly shaking. Alan’s first instinct was to pull her into a hug, but he repressed it, having learned from previous mistakes, or so he hoped at least.

“I need a friend, Alan. I need a friend so bad.” Sadness coated her voice, and Alan was seriously reconsidering the hugging.

“I can be your-” Alan began, “No, wait, not yet, I need to get this out. Please,” Catherine cut him off. When he didn’t make another attempt at speaking up, she finally continued. “I’m older than you by two years, and the reason that we’re still in the same class is that I’ve switched schools a couple of times, and that I started later than usual. I switched schools because I confessed my secrets to people I considered friends, who turned out not to be so friendly after all, after they learned what I was.. Am..” Catherine was hesitant at the end of her sentence, carefully looking for recognition or judgement in Alan’s eyes, if he guessed correctly. He didn’t understand what she was talking about, but tried his best to keep a neutral expression. “I’m not human..” Catherine shut her eyes, evidently expecting some sort of horrible reaction, but Alan was completely lost at this point, and as the girl in front of him opened her eyes, she saw none of what she feared, luckily, and she finally lowered her shoulders in a great sigh.

“You’re not angry.” Catherine stated, clear relief in her voice.

“Why would I be angry, I don’t even understand. If you’re not human, what are you?” Alan answered, still lost. They had never covered anything about non-humans in this world, or if they had, Alan must have been heavily asleep, because he thought he’d remember anything like that.

“I’m a wood elf, and it’s not strange that you haven’t heard of us. We’re more like a legend or a rumour, as we isolated ourselves from the rest of the world a long time ago, or so the story goes anyways. Or, the correct term would probably be that I’m half wood elf, half human, I suppose. It’s sort of complicated. Anyways, there you have it. My big confession. Damn it feels good.” Catherine finally seemed to be completely relaxed, though Alan was very mindful not to do anything sudden, for fear of ruining that.

“Soo..” He started, very carefully, “do these wood elves look exactly the same as normal humans, or is there some sort of hidden tell that differentiates? Because you look very human to me, are you sure you’ve not been tricked by the old man?”

Catherine actually erupted in a small laugh at that, clearly amused at his ignorance. “No, wood elves definitely do not look completely human. And neither do I, but again, I have Magnus to thank for this disguise. He really did a wonderful job of hiding my true appearance with some small magical tricks and make-up. And I’ve been following the same routine ever since he taught me how.”

“Anyways,” she continued, “there you have it. We’re both outsiders, though I might be more local than you, if your story is to be believed, something which still interests me, by the way. By Gaea, it feels good to have a friend who doesn’t run when they know the truth.” Catherine suddenly exclaimed, leaning her back to a wall and simply breathing in and out for a short while. “Oh, that reminds me of how I began this conversation, you haven’t actually agreed yet. Will you be my friend, please?” Catherine asked, but the shaking was gone, the thin voice switched out with her playful one, and her smile was back to the usual confidence. She already knew what he’d say, but heck, he’d say it anyways.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be your friend. Just don’t threaten Marissa again, please.” Alan added, still holding a grudge at that.

“Yes!” A small victory dance followed, before she turned slightly serious and remorseful. “I’m sorry about the threat, really. I didn’t mean it, I hope you know, and I’ll try to be better with the lying going forwards. But now, I really have to go, father is expecting me for magical practice, so see you tomorrow, friend.” With the way she put weight on the last word, she almost sounded sarcastic, which had Alan wondering for a short moment if everything she’d just said was a complete and utter lie. He decided not to dwell on it, not like it really made that much of a difference anyways. It was about time to serve his sentence, and so he trodded on towards his “prison”.

He was met by Naida at the Evanescent Threads, who’d take evening shifts to be his ward, so to speak. He was immediately set to cleaning, which was at least slightly better than sewing. As he was cleaning the room Naida was working in, he couldn’t stop himself from investigating Catherine’s supposed origins.

“Naida, what’s a wood elf?” He asked, trying to sound innocent and curious.

The question surprised her, and she took a small pause from her work to look at Alan. “Where did you hear about wood elves? I’m certain they wouldn’t cover such fantasy in school.” Naida voiced suspiciously.

“..Just some friends from school who mentioned it. I’m just curious, as they didn’t seem to like them very much. Why is that, what are they?” Alan made up a small cover story on the spot.

“Some friends from school, huh?” Naida answered, clearly not convinced, but she seemed to let it lie for now. “Well, wood elves are used mostly in stories for children up north where I come from, and out in the farmlands close to wild woods, I’d guess. The elves are told to be a nature worshipping people, stealing kids who venture too far out into the woods alone. There are certainly rumours that they actually existed at some point, but few still believe that, and no supposed “sightings” have been verified as far as I’ve heard. It’s not a commonly told story in cities, however, as the elves would never approach cities, according to the stories at least. But then again, these legends have been told and retold so many times now, who knows what people believe anymore.”

If there was more to it, Naida didn’t say. Alan didn’t prod either, he’d heard enough to disbelieve Catherine’s previous explanation, though he wasn’t exactly angry at her for lying. She clearly had issues being honest, but there might be very valid reasons for that, and as long as the lies didn’t hurt anyone, what did it really matter? Naida and Alan continued their work for the rest of the day in silence, Alan in deep thoughts about both Catherine and Marissa, and Naida seemingly distracted from her work as well, though she clearly was proficient enough it didn’t detract from the quality.

Weekend was around the corner, and that meant it was time for Alans next session with Aquillus. It was a welcome distraction from all his other issues, though he felt like there was an elephant in that room as well, though he wasn’t about to start another one of those discussions. If Aquillus had been told that Alan knew of the arrangements made or not, Alan couldn’t know, as the session went about in its usual way, though Alan did have a new question he’d like answered.

“Eh.. Sir? Could we take a small break? I have a few questions,” Alan managed to force out behind clenched teeth, hoping just as much for a recess as he did answers. Aquillus immediately ceased his mana bombardment, apparently satisfied to answer questions for now.

“I think my natural mana barrier is quite far out now, at least far enough to interfere with others, but why isn’t it? I mean, interfering? Like, you’ve got to have a barrier covering this whole house, and we can’t both control mana in the same space, can we?” Alan managed to formulate a question that had been bugging him for a while now, in the short moments that he’d not been completely overwhelmed by other issues.

“Ah, an excellent question, though you’ve already been given hints at the answer. The practice that we are doing right now is exactly that, interference between two zones, fighting for control. The reason that this isn’t happening all the time when mages are in close proximity, is surprisingly simple; intent. As you know, we control mana with our thoughts, but you might be surprised to hear that subconscious thoughts are just as important as conscious ones. So, whenever two boundaries intersect, the barriers either fight for dominance, or passes by one another harmoniously, depending on the intent of the mages.” Aquillus explained.

Alan thought about it for a few seconds, “Does that mean that if I get angry at someone, our barriers might start interfering with each other? And how does that work if he’s not angry with me?” It suddenly seemed a lot more complicated than he first thought.

“Intent is a lot more than anger or happiness, Alexander. Intent is closely tied to instincts from our basic nature. If you lived like an animal in the wild, you might be part of a herd. You’d trust them instinctively, and they would trust you in return, an inner circle of trust, if you would. You might also be part of a larger herd, of which you didn’t necessarily trust everyone. But your instincts would still tell you that the others are trustworthy, at least until proven otherwise. Thus your intent towards basically any of your own species, would be peaceful. It would be the opposite for anything not of your species, especially threats.” Alan was getting the picture, and becoming slightly annoyed at the length of the explanation so far, which apparently showed.

“Anyways, I’ll cut it short. We, humans, instinctively trust each other, even people we hold deep grudges towards. If a wolf suddenly attacked your most hated enemy, you’d most likely rush in and help, if you could. Unless you’d want him dead. And I mean enough that you’d be willing to kill that person yourself. And there’s the difference in intent. For two mages’ natural boundaries to start fighting for dominance, one of them must want the other dead. When considering the party that isn’t murderous, they will instinctively notice that someone intends them harm, when the boundaries meet, and thus they will fight back subconsciously, out of self preservation instincts. It’s as natural as breathing, really, though you can fight back consciously too, as you well know, which is a lot more effective.”

“Soo,” Alan began, with some dread coating his voice, “all this time we’re practicing, you actually want me dead? Enough you’d be willing to kill me? That’s not concerning at all…”

A snort escaped Aquillus, “There are ways to override your instincts, though they are difficult to master. As for me, I’m just imagining all the things I’d do to you if you ever hurt my daughter, and thus, we can practice.”

Alan shuddered, not happy with the direction this conversation was taking. “What happens in a spar then, like in the arena, if two mages would be fighting while their barriers are overlapping?”

“That doesn’t really work out, actually. The interfering forces would null each other out, and none of them would manage any magic. If two boundaries intersect, you give away part of your control of the mana to the other, and both will, again instinctively, destroy the others attempt at complete control. The exact reasons behind the phenomenon are unknown, but the fact remains that even a novice caster can interrupt an archmage’s magic inside their intersected zones. This is also one of the biggest limitations for mages. Every living being has its own natural mana barrier, in line with the outer skin if not larger, which it instinctively uses to defend itself. It doesn’t matter if you can use mana or not, we all have access to at least some mana, enough to enforce our own natural barriers. This means that mages can’t simply stop the heart of any non-mage, even if they know the right spell, since they can’t form magic inside someone else’s body, unless they first invade their natural boundaries. And invading someone’s natural boundary is incredibly inefficient, compared to all the other methods available to kill someone.”

It didn’t make sense to Alan, but then again, neither did crossing worlds, controlling fire and lightning with the mind, or a number of other things he’d already experienced. So this was just another disruptive element to throw into his growing pile of things he’d like to understand better, but probably never would. There were things he didn’t understand back in his old world too, of course, there were probably things nobody understood in every world, assuming there were more out there, which Alan definitely did by this point.

Still, this limited understanding was something he could work with. The first problem he noticed, was that he’d never be able to use mana bombardment on Marissa in their training. Which was probably for the better, as it was far from the most comfortable way increasing magical potential. Though he couldn’t deny the effectiveness.

They left it at that, when Alan didn’t have any further questions, and Aquillus didn’t seem to want to continue the training. Before Alan left, Aquillus informed him that his boundary was far enough out now, that they could start on the actual fire magic the next session. Alan felt that he should have been far more excited at that prospect, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. He didn’t have much faith that practicing fire magic would produce any significant results for a long time, considering the relatively minor requirements at entering the mage academy, for which one could apply at the age of fourteen and up. If he used two years to learn how to keep a candle sized flame going for a minute, the estimated daily progress would quite frankly be incredibly demotivating.

Instead of leaving directly for home, Alan went over to the Crow residence, hoping to be able to check in on Marissa. He’d initially seen this as a risk of making everything worse, but now he decided that he didn’t care. He wanted to check in on her, so he would do exactly that, but he wouldn’t push it further.

He knocked on the door a few times, but nobody seemed to answer, which was unusual. They were always home on saturdays. Alan considered his options, and found that he didn’t really have many. He had no idea where they could be, and so decided to go home and ask if his parents knew anything. He could ask Catherine too, he supposed, but he didn’t actually know where she lived. They’d visited her father’s laboratory, and with any luck one of them might be there, but it was a bit far fetched. He could go there later, anyways.

It was about midday when Alan got his home into view. Aquillus insisted that getting practice done early in the morning was important, as he’d have the rest of the day for experiments, and Alan didn’t mind. He noticed a familiar shape outside of his home, who upon noticing him in return, quickly came running up to him.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for more than thirty minutes Alan!” Catherine was clearly not enthused by standing outside in the early summer sun, for some reason. “Come on, we’re gonna miss it!”

“Miss what?” Alan said, confused. There was nothing planned for today. Unless it had to do with the Crow residence.

“The trial, of course! The shadow must have found something, for a trial of Benjamin Crow was hastily announced today, to begin at midday in the small courthouse.” Catherine said while dragging him along in the direction of the city center and the palace.

“But how did they manage to get a trial so soon, isn’t there like a ton of bureaucracy involved?” Alan asked, still confused, but at least he was walking on his own now, rather than being dragged along.

“What my father sent was a Shadow, capital S.” Catherine said, as if that meant anything to Alan. She continued after noticing his confused glance. “The Royal Shadows doesn’t mean anything to you? Really?” Catherine had an incredulous look on her face. “I swear, you better start taking your education seriously. They’re like the Royal Guards, except that they only work in secrecy to uncover greater conspiracies against the kingdom.” Catherine explained, not happy about having to explain something she thought everyone should know.

“But how did your father manage to send a Shadow then? This isn’t exactly a great conspiracy or anything. And why would they even bother with a small time criminal like we assumed Benjamin to be?”

“Again, we’ll have to thank father. They usually wouldn’t bother, dismissing him as a matter for the guards, but they probably would at least notify the guards. But my father holds some sway, being one of few archmages in the city, so he probably convinced them this was important, somehow. Or, they just did it out of respect for an old and faithful ally of the Kingdom. He has some great deeds to his name, you know.”

Catherine then went on to explain in vivid detail about the several wars that Magnus had partaken in, though she obviously didn’t have a first hand source, considering how valiantly she described everyone involved in the battle, and how full of honor and glory the fighting had been. On the bright side, it made the rest of the trip feel shorter, and soon they entered the Small Courthouse, aptly named, with room for about a hundred spectators and the few people actually involved in the session. It was placed quite central in the city, though a lot further away from the palace than Alan had initially thought. The Large Courthouse was actually on the palace grounds, with the King presiding over the sessions, usually only used for greater cimes of conspiracy, mass murder, and the few occations of blood feuds between noble families. Any crime too small to be of interest to the Small Courthouse, of which there was only the one, was apparently within the City Guards’ jurisdiction to do as they deemed fit.

As Catherine and Alan entered, they noticed the proceedings had already started, and they quickly found a spot along the back rows. After carefully scrutinizing the rest of the spectators, Alan found Marissa and Sara on the front row of the spectator stands. They were huddled inside large clothes, which must have been far too warm for comfort. But even with the thick clothes, Alan could see them both shaking like leaves in the wind. He instinctively tried to get up and go to them, but Catherine held him back, staring at him with a stern look. “Let them be for now, Alan. They need to go through this on their own. You can comfort Marissa later.”

Alan relented, accepting that she might be right, even though he still felt like leaving them alone was the wrong thing to do. Well, they weren’t alone, the spectator stands were about half way full, with a mix of guards Alan supposed were colleagues of Benjamin, and a lot of people he didn’t recognize. Which wasn’t surprising, considering the Small Courthouse were open to the public, and there had to be someone who were simply curious about what was going on here on a saturday.

The prosecutor had just climbed up on a small podium, ready to give his speech it seemed. Alan could see Benjamin in chains, standing in a cubicle by himself to the left of the podium, facing both the crowd and another raised stage to the right, where the judge was sitting, alongside a few advisers. Alan hadn’t actually been to a court session yet, and only remember small parts of the descriptions given in class, yet he remembered that the judge held all the power in these proceedings, being personally appointed by the King. After getting the formal go ahead from the judge, which seemed to be a slight nod in this case, the prosecutor began.

“Benjamin Crow, Captain of the Prison Guards at the Westfall Royal Prison. You stand accused of severe mistreatment of prisoners, resulting in several deaths among the inmates under your care. How do you plead?” The prosecutor’s voice was clear and steady, reaching every corner of the room.

Benjamin was standing tall, not in the least bit cowed by the prosecutor’s words. “Not guilty!” his voice rang out, a strong voice belonging to a strong man. He was clearly confident of getting out of this predicament, making Alan wonder how often cases like this ended up with the accused walking free. There was another thing that bothered him too. “Doesn’t he get anyone to help defend him?” Alan asked quietly to Catherine.

“No, why would he get that. He should know the laws perfectly well on his own, especially as a Prison Guard. He is, however, allowed to call witnesses, should that be relevant to the accusation, though I highly doubt it will be today.” Catherine seemed just as confident as Benjamin, clearly having faith in this Shadow, though he hadn’t been mentioned yet.

The judge was the next one to speak, surprising no one except Alan, who’d forgotten almost everything of the usual protocol. “A plea of innocence has been noted by the Court. Let the Accuser speak.” The judge then went on to nod towards the prosecutor, who continued in his place. “The prosecution calls the accuser, a Royal Shadow, to the stage.” The quiet murmurs between the spectators gave way to sudden gasps at the mere mention of the Royal Shadow, and Alan understood why in the next second. Instead of anyone getting up and moving towards the stage, a shadow suddenly formed itself into a man already standing on the stage, next to the prosecutor. Even the prosecutor, who Alan thought should have expected this, was caught off guard, and clearly winced before continuing. That reaction was nothing compared to the face of Benjamin, who’s face had fallen completely ashen, his mouth opening and closing in confusion, but not uttering a sound. There was also a sudden trembling going through several of his colleagues on the spectator stands. This session had apparently taken a completely different turn than most of them expected.

“The prosecution invites the accuser to describe the accusations in detail, and put forth any evidence backing up the accusations.” The prosecutor finished, leaving the podium to sit at a bench behind it. The Shadow stepped up to the podium, and it was at this point that Alan noticed he couldn’t actually see the man’s face. It was almost like a physical force was keeping his eyes from looking at it, and he was beginning to understand the fear in the air around him.

The voice of the shadow was the next surprise in line for Alan. A deep voice resounded in the courtroom when he spoke, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was almost like a digitally altered recording, that news companies often used to protect witnesses that talked with them. Alan felt fear sneaking into his entire body. This was true magic. It wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t even all that impressive on its own, but it made the Royal Shadow appear more like a force of nature than a man. Like he was everywhere at once, omniscient and omnipotent, and that no one was hidden from his sight.

“Benjamin Crow, I have been witness to your actions in the Westfall Royal Prison the last few days. In only two days, you tortured five men and two women, using a combination of whips, knives, clubs, and in one case, a custom built rack. Out of the seven people, one man died of his injuries a few hours after the session, and woman was intentionally murdered at the end of her torture session. Out of the seven torture cases, only three of them could have been officially sanctioned as an intelligence gathering operation, had you filed the necessary paperwork and awaited permission from your superiors, which you did not. Additionally, you forced a seventeen year old prisoner to have sex with you in exchange for her daily rations, which is not a sanctionable operation under any circumstances. Witness concluded.”

The Shadow disappeared just as quickly as he had shown up, clearly not bothering to wait for affirmation from the judge or the prosecutor. The prosecutor quickly stepped up to the podium to continue according to protocol, clearly done with his part of the case, and not sharing Alan’s growing concern. Benjamin seemed to have picked up on what concerned Alan as well, as he interrupted the finishing words of the prosecutor.

“He lied! The shadow, or whatever he was, didn’t put forth any evidence, because there isn’t any. It was all lies!” Benjamin shouted, having gathered a small amount of courage after the Shadow left. “I’ve just been doing my duty, and I’ve followed every protocol there is in all interrogations performed. The-”, “ORDER!” the judged shouted, which surprisingly put a stop to Benjamin’s tirade.

“The Court recognizes that a Royal Shadow cannot lie in witness, and as such, every word put forth will be considered evidence to the Court. The Court has found the accused guilty on all accusations. Benjamin Crow is sentenced to thirty years in Eastpit Royal Prison. This trial is now adjourned.” Benjamin had started protesting halfway through the announcement, but that was completely ignored by the judge. And with that, the judge and his advisors arose, and left the courtroom through a door behind them.

Benjamin’s mood had understandably taken a turn for the worse after that, and angry screaming and shouting could be heard as he was dragged away by a couple of guards. Alan wasn’t listening, however, as he finally turned his attention towards the two people left in the room who were the most affected by the outcome of the trial. And they were both shaking violently now, openly crying and huddling together. The rest of the spectators gave them a wide berth, none to interested to interact with them, apparently.

“Let’s wait for them outside, Alan” Catherine cautioned again, when he was about to walk over. “They need some time to process this, and we shouldn’t appear to be too involved in it.” Her voice was subdued, and Alan thought he detected a trace of sorrow in it. When he didn’t respond, Catherine dragged him out. He couldn’t decide what to do. He couldn’t even decide if he had helped do the right thing. No, that wasn’t it, he had definitely done the right thing. People had been tortured to death, for god’s sake, assuming the Shadow was telling the truth, which the judge at least clearly believed. He just couldn’t decide if he’d done the right thing for Marissa. Her wailing was heart rending, and he was on the edge of tears himself from simply listening to it. Additionally, this trial had seemed all wrong to him. How could they put so much worth in the mere words of this Shadow. It might be true what the judge said, that they couldn’t lie under this witness thingy, whatever that meant, but the truth could still be twisted and corrupted to suit a specific purpose, he’d surely seen enough of that in the media back on Earth. And even if he didn’t feel much sympathy for Benjamin, the man hadn’t really been given a fair chance at defending himself. And what was all this about sanctioned torture? If nothing else, the fresh air outside helped him breathe calmer, pushing his own feelings down a bit.

“Look, I can see that you’re conflicted about this, okay? But please put those thoughts away for now. What Sara and Marissa need is something familiar and comfortable, not questions or doubt about the proceedings. We can discuss that later, okay?” Catherine looked deeply into Alan’s eyes, making sure he properly understood her words. He still couldn’t answer.

“Ok, I know it’s hard. Let me do the talking, okay? Just be a cliff or something, a solid wall in the storm raging around them, can you do that?” Alan eventually nodded, and they stood there for the rest of the time in silence, patiently waiting for the broken family to come out.

Alan drew a sharp breath when Sara and Marissa finally appeared at the entrance. It was hard to identify the expression on Sara’s face, he guessed it was a combination of sorrow, relief and confusion, though she had clearly been crying. Marissa’s expression, on the other hand, was a devastating blow to his morale, which yet again made him regret his choices. She was devastated beyond recognition, barely conscious of her surroundings as she clutched her mother’s hand with both of her own, following half a step behind. Her gaze was defocused, and moving about randomly. She even looked at Alan for half a second before moving on, not even recognizing him in her stupor.

“W-we came as soon as we heard…” Catherine said as the pair got closer. Sara looked up towards the voice instantly, some sort of hope suddenly alive in her eyes, until she recognized Catherine and Alan. Alan realized that whatever she had hoped to see was not them, as the light in her eyes vanished, replaced by a weak attempt at a smile, but that quickly fell apart as well. Marissa never looked up, apparently not having registered Catherine’s voice.

“I’m so sorry..” Alan whispered, as his strength left him, and tears filled his vision. Marissa finally looked up, recognition clear on her face. She too, attempted a smile, probably reflexively, Alan thought, but it never made it to her eyes. She let go of her mother’s hand, taking a step towards Alan, before fresh tears appeared in her eyes, and the smile vanished. Alan crossed the short distance between them in a second, embracing Marissa in a tight hug, feeling her tears wet his shirt, and his wet her hair.

Catherine and Sara were speaking about something, but Alan couldn’t make out their words. All he could think about was how he’d taken Marissa’s father away from her, and he kept repeating the same apology over and over. Marissa attempted to get some words out herself, but nothing except hulking sobs escaped her. They stood there for what felt like hours, until both calmed down enough to separate, and start on the agonizingly long journey to the Crow residence.

Catherine had spent the time convincing Sara that she and Alan could fix up some food for them, and she took a short detour through the market to buy some ingredients. And when she had volunteered them both for cooking, she apparently only meant Alan, as immediately after they entered the house she promptly forced him into the kitchen to start working on an... apple pie, apparently. How she knew that he could make apple pies was a mystery to him, until he remembered that she probably had gotten it through interrogating Marissa at school. Now that he thought about it, the two had probably been on good terms before all this nonsense too, considering how Marissa generally kept on good terms with everyone around her.

Alan could hear quiet conversation from the living room for the first few minutes working, but it soon faded away to silence. After a short while more, Catherine came sneaking into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise.

“They fell asleep, finally.” She whispered, looking exhausted, surprisingly. “I mean, I kinda expected that they’d be sad about what happened to Benjamin, but this is more of a mess than I expected. Sara is really worried, especially about the economy, and I guess the whole “raising Marissa without a father” bit too. It was supposed to get better, why does it feel like we just made things worse? And you were supposed to be a cliff, Alan, not a waterfall.” Alan took some time to look properly at Catherine, and she actually seemed despondent. She’d acted so much like an adult throughout most of this that he’d forgotten that she still was just a teenager.

“Things usually get worse before they get better in these kinds of cases, Catherine. That’s one of the sad truths about abusive relationships, they so often seem better than the alternative. Let them have some time to figure it out, I’m sure it’ll work out for the better in the end.” Alan responded, somehow having found his calm through the baking process.

“I know that, I just.. ughh… How long until the pie is done, I’m hungry!” Alan assured her that it wouldn’t be too long, and the conversation fell away to a heavy silence.

“There was something wrong about that trial, wasn’t there?” Alan eventually said, not able to keep his suspicions to himself.

“How so? I mean, they usually involve a lot more witnesses, and arguing back and forth over the validity of any evidence, but the sentence wasn’t uncommon.” Catherine answered, back to her adultlike style.

“He didn’t really get a fair chance at defending himself. I mean, if there were actual tortures being done as part of his job, wouldn’t you say that it’s reasonable to drag in some superiors in this, question them about routine and general expectations of the captains, and how often they’re supposed to solve issues on their own, what sort of guidelines they’re expected to follow, et cetera.” Alan let out, only getting a sceptical look in return.

“There really was no need to make this complicated,” Catherine countered. “they had evidence of his crimes, and he had literally murdered and tortured people. What more would anyone need to be judged? I suppose they could have used more time to question the Shadow on intentions and such, but it would probably be a waste of his time. And you don’t want to waste their time, trust me, they have places to be, and are usually not happy about being withheld unnecessarily.” She finished her explanation, still whispering to keep the volume of the discussion down.

Alan only murmured an affirmation in reply, not really happy about the explanation, but understanding that getting more out of Catherine right now would probably be difficult. It still felt off to him, but he’d only been in the one trial so far. And it was a kingdom, so chances were the people had quite a different view of the governing body.

Since neither Marissa or Sara had awoken by the time the pie was done, Catherine and Alan grabbed some small pieces for themselves before they took off, hoping that some time to process everything was what the two needed. Alan wrote a short note to inform about the food, and that they’d always have help if they needed it, and left the house hoping he’d done all he could to make the situation better for them.

Catherine excused herself right after they left, stating that she needed to get home for magic practice with her father, and Alan decided it was time for him to do a bit of that as well. He hadn’t had time to really practice with his new weapon yet, so after a short trip home to get it, he quickly went out into Rosewoods again.

He practiced until he could hit a tree consistently from about 15 meters away. His aim got better once he realized he could use his mana senses to sense the direction the contraption was aiming, though he couldn’t really explain how that worked. He could make out direction and speed of the projectiles he fired, before they left his natural mana boundaries. On a related note, he’d decided he needed another name for the natural mana boundaries, as it was a long and tedious word to even think about. Perhaps aura was fitting, or perhaps there were other more common names, he could always ask Aquillus.

“How does it work?”

The question came out of seemingly nowhere, and had Alan startled so bad he managed to throw away half of the projectiles he was just loading into his weapon. Catherine soon emerged from some bushes a fair distance away, answering his unspoken question.

“My god, Catherine, don’t scare me like that! We talked about this dishonesty of yours, and stalking people is not an improvement.” Alan sighed heavily, trying to get his beating heart under control.

“You make it so easy, though, you barely have any awareness to speak of, like you’ve never had any reason for looking over your shoulders before. Consider it practice, you surely need it.” Catherine said offhandedly, not bothered by Alan’s serious look. “Anyways, how does it work? I see no reason why the arrow should move like that, unless you’re practicing some kind of strange air magic I’ve never heard about before.”

“It’s... electricity and magnetic fields, but not something easily explained in an afternoon. Look, I might be convinced to teach you a bit about it, in exchange for reading that lightning manual you keep dragging to school now and then.” Alan answered after a pregnant pause, not sure how much he wanted to explain to the girl.

“I don’t recognize those words, are they foreign concepts? Anyways, I’d be thrilled to learn and let you read the family tomes, but you know, legacies and such tend to be well kept family secrets, so I’m not sure how well that’ll sit with the old man. I’ll give it a try, though,” Catherine said with a chipper voice.

“You’re reading carefully protected family tomes at school? You’re not afraid anyone might try to steal them?” Alan asked, sceptically.

“Afraid that anyone would steal from the daughter of Archmage Storm? That would be interesting to see.” Alan could see pride in her posture when she mentioned her father, and figured that it suited her. It was difficult to differentiate the truth from the lies, but if anything, Catherine seemed to be proud to be the daughter of Magnus, that recurring theme appeared genuine enough.

“Very well. I’ll just gather up the projectiles and head home for now, it’s getting dark anyways.” Alan decided he’d done enough training for today, and wasn’t all that interested in continuing the discussions with Catherine for now, as he doubted they’d lead to anything but more questions and complaints from her when he refused explaining more.

As expected, Catherine nagged him for more demonstrations, wanting to test for herself as well, but he held his own for once, not giving in. It surprised him when Catherine finally decided to let the subject lie, and still followed him home, willing to talk about even mundane things, like the next test they were going to have in school. A test Alan had completely forgotten about, so he gladly took some advice from her the subject.

Catherine had an almost cunning smile when she bid him farewell on the doorstep of his family home, giving Alan a feeling like he’d somehow been duped.