Alan woke up early Monday morning, after another night filled with bad dreams. It had never really bothered him before, as he had always easily been able to separate dreams from reality completely, but his latest dreams were so realistic that they actually scared him a bit. Who knew if anyone could actually dream about the future in this world filled with strange magic. Maybe his mother would?

Alan went down to the kitchen a bit early for breakfast, and found his mother in the process of making it. “Good morning, Naida,” Alan said, still a bit groggy.

“Good morning, Alexander,” Naida answered, dragging out his name. “Why don’t we make a deal? If you start calling me mom, I’ll start calling you Alan, what do you say?” She turned away from her work for a second to look intently at Alan.

“Sure, I don’t mind. It just falls naturally to me to use names, I didn’t actually know it bothered you, I’m sorry.” Alan was apparently still sleepy, as he wasn’t able to translate his mother's expression at his answer, but at least she seemed satisfied enough.

“Good,” she said, turning back to complete the breakfast. “I have been thinking about it since you actually called me ‘mom’ the other day, so it hasn’t bothered me for too long,” Naida said, then took a short break to contemplate on something. “I think it’s about how using names within a family creates a sort of uncomfortable social distance between us.”

“I get it,” Alan replied, while sitting down at the small eating table in the kitchen. “I’ll try to utilize familial terms going forward.”

“You’re twelve, you’re not supposed to get these things,” Naida said, turning to look at Alan inquisitively. “Seriously, you’ve got to be the strangest child I’ve ever heard about, and I raised you…” Naida was lost in thought for a while, before finishing up breakfast and sitting down to eat with Alan. “I just don’t understand where you’ve been picking up all these strange terms and concepts you sometimes let slip,” Naida finally said, sighing, and started eating.

“It’s complicated...” was all Alan had to answer, and they sat in silence eating for a while.

“There’s something you should know,” Alan began slowly, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh?” Naida said, looking up from her food to make eye contact. “Is this another attempt at convincing your parents that you are really from another world? Because I don’t think it’s gonna work this time either.” Naida said with a smile.

“No, it’s not another attempt at that,” Alan said, mildly annoyed. “It’s about the Crow family.”

“What about them?” Naida asked, with curiosity in her gaze.

“There was a trial yesterday…” Alan said meekly.

“There are trials all the time, honey, this is the biggest city in the kingdom. What’s that got to do with the Crow family?”

“Benjamin Crow was sentenced to 30 years in prison.” Alan blurted out. He had almost expected the incident to be all over the news, until he remembered that the “news” didn’t really exist here. He felt that his parents should know, though, and so he felt he had to tell them.

“He WHAT?” Naida yelled out loud. “Where have you heard this??”

“I attended the trial, with Catherine. She was the one who told me.”

“That’s why she came looking for you? She just asked for you, and didn’t mention anything about a trial. Why didn’t you tell me?” Naida seemed hurt by the fact that she hadn’t been told.

“I… forgot. She kinda dragged me along immediately. I’m sorry..” Was all Alan managed to say, feeling guilty.

Alan went on to explain what Benjamin had been accused of, and how the trial had proceeded. Naida was shocked hearing the details of the accusation, but didn’t really react to the fact that a Royal Shadow had witnessed against Crow. After Alan was done telling her about the trial, he suddenly remembered that he was late for school, and quickly got up and on his way, leaving Naida to brood on the information by herself.

“Don’t forget your detention after school, young man!” Naida half shouted after him, just as he was leaving.

“I’ll be there!” Alan answered as he hurried out.

When Alan entered the classroom, he quickly spotted Marissa, and relief flooded through him. She seemed to be in the middle of a serious discussion about which of the three princesses would marry which of the King’s most handsome knights. She had apparently decided that Roland would marry the eldest princess, and thus would become the next king. Alan wanted to remind her that the King also had two sons, one of which was the current Crown Prince, and thus next in line, but thought better of it. He took his place at the back of the classroom, and was content with working on his aura exercises, as he had decided on calling them.

Catherine entered the classroom soon after, flashing Alan a brief smile before homing in on Marissa’s back and enveloping the little girl in a bear hug. This took Marissa by surprise, and her happy laughter, when discovering who was hugging her, soon attracted most of the students’ attention. Catherine finally realized how unexpected her show of familiarity with Marissa was, and she quickly finished with the hug and retreated to the relative safety of her desk, trying hard to hide the embarrassment showing in her reddening cheeks by diving into her book.

The situation was amusing to Alan, until he saw a confused Drake looking quickly between Marissa and Catherine, clearly not managing to decide if he was supposed to be angered by this or not. Alan barely managed to suppress a laugh as Drake made up his mind to ignore said event in favor of offering Catherine another flower, this time a beautiful white in color, only to be completely ignored by the girl having her nose as close to the pages as she possibly could. More points for effort, Alan thought, though he was honestly wondering where Drake was getting these flowers, and if this was really all him, and not someone else pushing him into this.

When the day’s dreaded test was finally lying on Alan’s desk, Alan decided to see if he had any magic abilities related to shooting lasers out of his eyes, as he glared daggers into Catherine’s back. The test had nothing to do with any of the subjects she had informed him of on Saturday, and was instead a series of questions about etiquette regarding how to behave when meeting royalty in social settings. Alan’s ability to burn holes in people’s back with his eyes clearly needed more training, so he gave it up in favor of actually trying to answer some of the questions.

You unexpectedly meet the second Prince in a restaurant, he is on his way out while you are on your way in. How do you proceed? You greet him with a wave of your hand, then step to the side so that he can pass first. You bow your head, step to the side, and don’t look up until he’s gone. You step to the side, kneel and bow your head, and wait for him to address you, or until he’s gone. You quickly force your way in before him, so that you are not in his way longer than necessary.

Aha, multiple choice, the best friend an ignorant student could have! Alan thought, though he didn’t feel like he had much more than a one in three chance of getting the first question correctly. And the rest were worse, though not by much. Alan had no idea how he should go about trying to court the third princess, or why it would differ from trying to court the second princess. Alan quickly decided to ask Jack if they had the same curriculum at the public schools, as he couldn’t understand why there was a need to teach how anyone would go about courting the princesses. For once, though, Alan could understand how Marissa was managing a test, as she was more than slightly obsessed about the Royal Family.

After having answered more or less randomly on most of the questions, Alan could relax in the first break of the day. He never knew there could be so many rules on engaging with the Royals, and worse, that he might actually need to know them if he accidentally met one. Alan really wished he could avoid something like that, dreading the consequences of making the wrong social move in front of people with more or less unrestricted power. Marissa, clearly inspired by Catherine’s earlier sneaking, actually managed to take Alan by surprise in his contemplation of the Royals, enveloping him a sudden hug from the side.

“Hi Marissa,” Alan said, leaning into the hug. “I’m glad you’re back.” Alan felt the tension from the test leave him completely.

“Me too,” Marissa mumbled in an uncharacteristic sad voice, her head hiding behind his. When she finally extracted herself from the hug, however, her usual smile was back in full, though Alan saw that it wasn’t entirely genuine. Her casual display of familiarity did not attract nearly the same attention as that of Catherine earlier, as this was closer to normal behaviour for the normally chipper and energetic girl. Though, after Catherine had pointed it out, Alan realised that he was the only boy in the class privy to her hugs.

“Thanks for the pie, it was really good!” Marissa turned as soon as she finished her thanks, and ran over to a group of girls on the other side of the classroom, quickly latching onto one of her friends in the group, and instantly engaging in the conversation.

Alan leaned back against his chair, happy to have his friend back, though slightly troubled by how things would progress from there. Catherine had mentioned that Sara was worried about their economy, so Alan idly wondered if he could get a part time job somewhere and help support them a bit. Was that even a thing here? Surprisingly few of their lectures had been about the average man and woman in this world, and how they lived day to day. Alan supposed it made sense to prepare children of noble lines for a life in the noble circles. He added another question to the list of things he was planning to ask Jack about, part time jobs had to be a thing somewhere.

After school was over for the day, Alan went straight to the Evanescent Threads where his mother worked, for his detention. It was combined sorting and cleaning duty this time, sorting through the different stored goods they had, and cleaning the storage room while he was at it. Alan managed to get a few questions in while working, however, breaking up the monotony of the work.

“Mom, are there any oracles or similar in this world?” Alan asked as Naida was helping him sort through some of the threads.

“You and your strange words, Alan. Could you perhaps explain this new word?” Naida answered while chuckling a little at her son.

“I mean, people who can predict the future, either through dreams or prophecies or something else.” Alan explained, putting away a cluster of threads into a box, and cleaning up the large amounts of dust left behind.

“Oh, so those are called oracles, good to know,” Naida answered sarcastically, but with a full smile on her face. “Yes, there are people who believe they can predict the future, but you shouldn’t trust most of them. The only ones that are considered somewhat trustworthy, are the prophets of the church, but they rarely make very specific prophecies.” Naida explained patiently, while trying to untie a knot of threads from each other. “They mostly try to predict years of bad harvest, natural disasters, or upcoming wars. How they make their predictions are a secret of the Church, though most believe it’s connected to the gods in one way or another. The part about wars might just be political acuity, however. The Church is closely tied into the political landscape of the kingdom, so they tend to have inside information about possible upcoming conflicts.” Naida continued, seemingly having pondered the subject before.

The conversation fell away for a while after. Alan again wondered at the power of the Church in this world. Or perhaps it was only in this kingdom, after all, he didn’t really have much knowledge of how things were run in other states, like the Syrodin Empire. The pair worked mostly in silence for the rest of the evening, and Alan used the time to contemplate the possible sources of the prophets’ predictions. He was quite interested in delving deeper into the mysteries of the Church, but was a bit scared of what he would find. What if the gods in this place were real, communicating entities, with a vested interest in the development of the world? It was a frightening scenario to Alan.

The week passed by rather quickly to Alan, with him spending most of his time either at school or at the Evanescent Threads. Marissa’s behaviour didn’t change visibly throughout the week, something Alan took comfort in. She had definitely not come out of this situation unscathed, but she was at least dealing with it for the time being. Catherine was also back to her usual self, ignoring the happenings of the class by diving into her studies, though Marissa lately had spent more effort dragging her into her lively discussions with other friends.

Saturday quickly arrived, and Alan went about his usual session with Aquillus.

“Good morning, my bright and promising student!” Aquillus was in a good mood, apparently. “Today, we will truly test your cognitive abilities, and thus determine how far you are fated to reach in your magical studies, and indeed, life itself.” Aquillus stated, gesticulating dramatically with his hands.

“Eh.. what will this test be about?” Alan asked cautiously. “You mentioned that we would start on actual fire magic last time, is that what the test is about?” Alan had been cautiously optimistic about the fire magic part, but his expectations for actually achieving anything were quite low.

“Yes, that is exactly what this is about, though the test itself will also reveal much of your future potential.” Aquillus answered, sitting down in his usual spot next to the fire pit, and inviting Alan to do the same with a nod. He then reached into the fire to pick up a small piece of burning wood, laying it flat in the palm of his hand. Even knowing that Aquillus had to have absolute control of the temperature in his hands, Alan still winced when he reached into the fire so casually.

“This test is about emulating fire, as you see here before you, but without using anything but mana.” Aquillus began, shifting his focus from the burning piece of wood to Alan. “You already know how to control the temperature in your hands, and having extended your aura well outside of yourself, should be able to control temperature also in the things surrounding you.” Aquillus explained, looking back to the piece of wood. “We will not focus on creating fire that way, as this is a cheap trick of street wizards, and not true magic.” A sneer was visible on Aquillus’ face. “True magic is creating everything with mana, so you don’t have to rely on any external materials. Any two-bit street wizard with an ounce of talent could light a fire using wood or cloth, but it takes true talent to-” Alan interrupted his teacher at this point, having gotten the message clearly. “I get it, this is the difference between talent and incompetence. Can you get to the point?”

Aquillus abruptly stopped talking, glaring angrily at Alan, but finally relented and continued, his pride in being a master of actual talent overcoming the insult of being interrupted by his student. “The point,” he began, his scowl slowly fading, “is to convert your mana to the fire you need directly, instead of simply affecting the temperature in an already existing material.” He gestured to the burning wood in his hand, and then tossed it back into the firepit. The flames were still in his hands, even after the material burning was gone. His smile grew as Alan curiously leaned forward to examine the fire he was creating from nothing. As Alan extended his hand to touch the flames, however, the fire abruptly stopped, and Aquillus’ smile soured slightly.

“Now, to repeat earlier lessons,” Aquillus said with some irritation, “why did the magic die out just now?”

Alan leaned back into his chair, and thought for a moment. “Because I came too close and our auras interacted where you were producing the fire?” Alan finally said, and noticed that Aquillus irritation abated somewhat.

“Precisely, so please sit back and watch.” Aquillus produced the flames again. “What I am doing, is simply impressing my will upon my mana. I am focusing on an image of fire, the way I understand it from this firepit, and forcing my mana to create the same product. This is why the flames are so similar.” Aquillus explained, like it was the easiest thing in the world to anyone with enough talent.

“Now, you try the same. Of course, it will be harder for you, considering my aura encompasses this room, so you will have to work through the mana bombardment for your control to work, but that is just an added bonus.” Aquillus said with glee. “You will have time to practice without the bombardment on your own.”

Without further comments, Aquillus started the bombardment of Alan with his mana, which meant that Alan could control the mana inside his own aura, as long as he could keep Aquillus out. Aquillus was luckily quite restrained in his attack, so it didn’t take much effort to defend against it on Alan’s part. He sat in thoughts for a while before attempting anything. If what Aquillus said was true, that they literally created matter out of mana, then something had to be extremely inefficient with his use of mana up until now. The energy required to create matter from nothing was immense, at least according to his understanding of physics. It was absurd to think that he could empty himself of mana by moving currents around, but still his rather pitiful mana capacity would be enough to frickin’ create matter from thin air.

The idea made no sense to Alan, so he decided to come back to it at a later stage, and simply try to copy Aquillus’ technique directly. By imposing an image of his understanding of fire upon the mana under his control inside his aura.

Two hours later, Alan still hadn’t accomplished anything. Aquillus was surprisingly accepting, not complaining or really saying much at all. He just kept up the bombardment continuously, and let Alan work in peace. It wasn’t until Alan gave up trying to replicate Aquillus’ method, that he actually made a discovery.

Alan decided on a whim to try to manipulate charges in the space above his hands, instead of the fire image that he had been focusing on. To his surprise, it worked just as well as it did inside metal, which was a large revelation to Alan. There weren’t supposed to be a lot of freely moving charges in air, as opposed to metal, but he could clearly feel them and move them about, although it took a large amount of effort to move even a small amount of charges through the air. Alan surmised that he hadn’t simply been moving charges around inside the metal, he had been creating them, and then moved them around. That opened up a whole new world of possibilities for Alan.

His shock at the revelation must have somehow made it to his face, as Aquillus spoke for the first time since beginning. “Ah, I see you’ve made some sort of connection. I’ve yet to see any progress though, so we’re not stopping yet.” A trace of curiosity was present in Aquillus’s expression as he again focused his gaze on Alan’s hands.

Alan let go of his control of the charges in the air, and they quickly dissipated. He wondered where they went, but quickly put those thoughts away for the time being. He focused on creating as few charges as possible, and somehow managed to create what he believed to be a single charged particle above his hands. He was astounded by this accomplishment, and wondered what exactly the charged particle was. If his assumptions were correct, what he was sensing should be an electron, similar to the charges he moved around in metals. That meant that he could sense things that were about a thousand times smaller than an atom. He had no idea how his brain hadn’t burnt out from information about the frankly absurd amounts of atoms that were within his aura at all times.

Alan realised that if he could somehow go from creating an electron, to creating an entire atom where he controlled the amount of protons, electrons and neutrons, the possible applications of his mana were far beyond the scope of anything he could possibly imagine. Or, Alan thought, imagination is probably the only limiting factor. Alan also realised that playing with constructing atoms was probably very dangerous. But the possibilities though… Alan mentally drooled at the thought of creating any element he wanted.

He went about the first test he could think of, which was to create the opposite of the electron. He imagined the difference between hot and cold, and focused on the feeling of the electron he had created above his hand. He told himself that the electron was cold, and he needed to create the opposite, which was hot. He focused on the position of the electron, and followed the same thought pattern to create another electron, but this time he wanted a ‘hot’ electron, not the ‘cold’ one he already had.

For a small fraction of a second, Alan could feel something being created, and then both his charges disappeared without a trace. For a few minutes, Alan sat and stared in wonder at his hand. Had he done it? Was the reason that they disappeared that he simply lost control when they merged to become a hydrogen atom? Could he not control atoms the same way, only electrons? That made some sense, considering the charge disappeared. Alan was lost in thoughts for a while. Repeating the experiment several times didn’t seem to change the outcome in any way he could detect.

After several more attempts, Alan decided to try creating only the ‘hot’ electron, as he called it for the time being, without the presence of a ‘cold’ electron. He supposed he should actually call them electrons and protons, at least he thought so until he made his next discovery. The ‘hot’ electron, or proton, as it was supposed to be, was not stable. It immediately disappeared every time he created it, which threw his first theory out the window. Alan could not think of a reason why a proton would be so unstable, while an electron would not.

Alan started anew in his mind. Logically, the opposite of an electron was not an electron, but he hadn’t created nothing. The opposite of a negative charge was a positive charge, so that part worked out well. What was wrong with his protons then?

“Wait wait wait wait wait… If the opposite of matter isn’t not matter, it has to be antimatter?” Alan suddenly said out loud, too astounded to keep his thoughts to himself.

“What nonsense are you spouting now?” a confused Aquillus asked. “Do you perhaps need a break?”

Alan ignored him, completely taken in by his latest theory. Had he created antimatter? That was the only logical conclusion to creating the opposite charge and the opposite of matter, by accident.

“What kind of world let’s people create antimatter by accidents??” Alan shouted out, frustration obvious in his statement. “This world is insane!”

“Okay,” Aquillus said, stopping his bombardment and therefore started interfering with Alan’s magic. “You clearly need a break. Go out and get some fresh air, and try to calm down a little. You haven’t made any actual progress as far as I’ve noticed, so don’t get too excited yet.” Aquillus made his statement with a frown on his face, though some concern was also bleeding through.

Alan finally managed to relax a bit, and decided to follow the advice. He went outside and simply drew in the fresh air around him. The workshop/lab that was Aquillus’ place of work, was situated in a rather remote part of the mage academy, but Alan could still look up at the imposing tower that housed the laboratories of the archmages. He idly wondered how much of their own power they had really discovered, and just kept hidden from the rest of the world. He was a former professor, with knowledge stemming from hundreds of years of research involving an untold amount of genius scientists. How far had this group of incredibly powerful people come in terms of understanding their world? Alan supposed he was glad that they all refused to cooperate, and kept all their research as closely guarded family secrets. The potential of a nation wide collaboration between mages for a few centuries would surely create super weapons capable of destroying the world many times over. ...Just like Earth, Alan mused. Perhaps magic didn’t make this world all that different from Earth after all.

After relaxing outside for a bit, Alan was ready to resume. This time, he did his best to envision a particle that was similar to the ‘cold’ electron he could create from before, but with an opposite charge. The theory behind it was simple to understand, creating the phenomenon above his hand proved to be harder. Alan kept creating antimatter by accident, which both amused and annoyed him to no end. The few positrons he managed to create were by no means dangerous by themselves, so he didn’t feel like the accidents were dangerous. Still, it paid off to be cautious, so he kept working with as few particles as he could manage, which he firmly believed to be in the single digits, though the thought still amazed him.

Another hour passed before Alan suddenly felt two particles he had created become one. The thing he had remembered just before succeeding, was that a proton was not the same mass as an electron. He had focused so hard on the fact that only the charge had to differ, that he had completely forgotten about the fact that the mass also needed to be about a thousand times larger. With this in mind, he went from trying to create a ‘cold’ electron with positive charge, to an ‘extremely cold’ electron with positive charge, pushing in the opposite direction of his ‘hot’ electron, that apparently created antimatter instead.

With his newfound knowledge, Alan stepped out of his comfort zone, and moved from creating only one or two particles at once, to several thousand. He could sense the moment the particles reacted and formed hydrogen, and he could still control the hydrogen atoms afterwards, which pleased him immensely to figure out. He was still working with an extremely small number of atoms, however, so he didn’t manage to see any form of reaction when he ignited the hydrogen in the firepit. The process of ignition the hydrogen by itself was also relatively easy, and Alan managed that after a few attempts. He just had to increase the temperature of the hydrogen until something happened. He believed he had succeeded because he immediately lost control of the atoms after the reaction. From this, Alan deduced that he would keep in control of any elements he managed to create purely from his mana, but that any chemical reaction with elements not created of his mana would detach whatever control he had over his created elements. Alan decided to systemize it in this way; whatever matter he created directly using only his own mana, carried what he decided to call his ‘mana signature’. The signature would allow him to manipulate the position and temperature of the particles for as long as he had sufficient mana to do so. The moment he somehow lost control of the particles, they would lose his signature, and be just like any other particles already existing in the world. That was the explanation he would stick to for the time being, until he could get some more answers.

The next logical step in his trial was to increase the scale of his production. The only problem was that increasing the scale also meant increasing the consequences should he accidentally create antimatter again. Alan was fairly sure he had the technique under control now, but fairly sure was not nearly enough in his opinion. A few particles of antimatter were harmless, a few thousand particles of antimatter were probably also harmless, a few million particles of antimatter was a number that started bordering on the ‘not great, not terrible’ regime in Alan’s mind. So, instead of upping the scale, he continued creating hydrogen in batches of thousands of atoms, and proceeded to burn them immediately. The energy he expended doing this was so small that he honestly couldn’t notice the difference in strain from creating only a few, so he easily kept going for the rest of the session. The only real limiter was the slowly building headache he got as he had kept up his concentration for several hours.

When Aquillus had had enough of the lack of progress, which was well past noon, he abruptly stopped his mana bombardment, and sighed dramatically.

“Well, looks like you’ve got limited talent, kid. At least when working under pressure.” He announced sourly. “Hopefully you can achieve more in our next session.” The frown on Aquillus’ face was a clear indication that he was disappointed, and his entire attitude seemed quite unprofessional to Alan. Alan could, however, understand a bit about where it stemmed from, considering Aquillus’ had bet his family’s legacy on the future of the boy in front of him. “Remember, kid, no practicing this outside of our sessions.”

On his way home, Alan pondered the mysteries and dangers of learning magic in this world. It seemed to him that Aquillus was much too relaxed in the training session they had just been through. Alan assumed that his understanding of physics acquired through years of study, had shaped how he used his mana. In some way, it probably also limited him from outright copying what Aquillus had done. Aquillus had probably turned his mana into a combination of carbon dioxide, sodium, carbon, and other elements found in a wooden fire, but he simply grouped them all up in one single category called fire. Not that it made his achievements any less impressive, but it wasn’t something Alan could imitate. His intimate understanding of the different particles a wooden fire consisted of, told him that he needed to create all the different parts of a wooden fire separately, and combine them at the right temperature to imitate the flames. In the end, his way of understanding the universe didn’t really help him in this particular trial, but Alan refused to believe that his knowledge would be anything but the greatest boon imaginable when he got the basics of creating different elements en masse under control.

Alan had the rest of the day to himself, and decided to go visit The Adventurous Spirit, where he hoped to find Jack. The shop had limited opening hours on Saturdays, but there was always work to do, and Jack spent a lot of time helping his father and learning the trade. Thus, Alan was not surprised when he found both Braum and Jack working on refilling the displays and stocks of the more commonly bought wares, like spices, pots, glass and jewellery.

“Hello there, Alan” Braum bellowed, his voice deep but full of warmth. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. We’ll be done in a jiffy, and faster if you help out, so come give us a hand, will you?” He displayed a wide smile as he talked, but didn’t stop working.

“Hi Alan, been a while.” Jack said, looking up from a display he was refilling with simple jewellery.

“Hello Braum, Jack,” Alan replied, hurrying into the shop to help out. He was fairly well acquainted with the shop, having helped out a lot before, so he got to work filling up one of the spice display boxes. “How’s school been lately?” Alan asked Jack, carefully filling the display box to avoid the dreaded ‘spicy dust clouds from hell’, as he named them after a particular incident a few years back.

“It’s been okay, I suppose,” Jack answered, not exactly full of enthusiasm. “Guess what our latest test was about?” Jack looked expectantly at Alan.

“I’m gonna guess setting up simple budgets.” Alan answered, throwing out the first thing he thought would be useful to learn as a merchant's son.

“Ehh.. what now?” Jack said confused for a second. “No, we had a test about proper behaviour around royalty. The only thing I understood was that I should stay far away from them in every way.” Jack looked exasperated towards Alan. “Like I didn’t know that!”

“Huh,” Alan answered, “we had the same thing, more or less. Why is it so important that everyone knows how to interact with the Royals anyway?” Alan wondered out loud.

“Because they’re batshit crazy, that’s why.” Jack answered, just in time for Braum to walk in to them, clearly done with his part of the work.

“You shouldn’t let anyone hear you talk like that, son.” Braum said, voice stern.

“But it’s true, everyone knows it!” Jack countered, gesticulating wildly with his hands to indicate the whole world was aware.

“That’s just all the more reason not to talk about them.” Braum stated, crossing his arms and leaning to a beam. “If you can’t say anything nice about the Royals, don’t speak about them at all. The risks involved will never be worth anything you can get out of those conversations. Do you understand, son?” A hard gaze was directed towards Jack at the end, indicating there was no more to discuss.

“Yea, sure, I understand.” Jack said eventually, looking annoyed, and decided to focus on his work, apparently trying to work as slow as possible to somehow get back at his dad.

“Wanna play some Warring Kingdoms after we’re done here?” Alan asked, hoping to distract Jack.

Jack’s expression immediately took a turn for the better. “Are you sure your pride can take more losses?” His smile had a hint of deviousness as he sped up the last part of his work so they could get to playing.

Warring Kingdoms was a board game surprisingly similar to chess, in that it was a checkerboard with two sets of movable pieces and turn based action. The differences were mostly scale and functionality of the different pieces. The Kings were the centerpieces of both teams, and if you lost your king, the game was over. Then there were the mages, two for each team, who could attack at long range, and could create obstacles that blocked travel through tiles. Next were four knights who could move up to three spaces each turn and attack at melee range. The six archers also had ranged attacks, though shorter range than the mages, and the thirteen foot soldiers were melee units capable of moving only two steps per turn. The board was a large 21 by 21 square board, with some randomized obstacles placed at the beginning of each game.

Jack won the first game, as expected. Alan still hadn’t beaten him once, in all their games so far, and wasn’t exactly on track to do it anytime soon either. He understood the base mechanics of each unit easily enough, but there were a lot of interaction mechanics between the units which made things difficult. Alan believed he could understand it better if he sat down and made a complete overview of all the interactions for himself, and the possible strategies he could deploy to exploit specific weaknesses, but he simply didn’t find the time or motivation to do such. He enjoyed the odd game now and then with Jack, and that was enough.

“You’ll never become a general in the army if you keep making mistakes like that!” Jack told Alan after an especially embarrassing defeat, or so Jack had named it.

“I seriously doubt they elect generals based on how well they play a board game.” Alan countered, sitting back and letting the game slip from his mind. “I’m not planning to become a general anyways, so why worry?” He continued, after a short while.

“Who wouldn’t want to be a general?!” Jack exclaimed, throwing out his arms. “Imagine standing at the back of an army, all waiting for your signal to attack! Imagine the power a general holds, the glory they reap after a grand victory, or the honor of standing before the King himself and getting awarded a Gold Star after a successful crusade.” Jack seemed lost in his imagination while talking, probably thinking about what he would do as a general.

“I thought you didn’t even like the Royals,” Alan stated, questioningly. He, for one, did not like the idea of unnecessary interactions with the Royals, based on the little amount of information he had gathered so far. They seemed somewhat.. erratic.

“Pff, who cares about that, they wouldn’t want to mess with a genius general. They’d just be happy that I’m on their team, and do whatever is necessary to keep me around.” Jack said, dismissively, still daydreaming about his life as the best general there was, or something.

Alan didn’t argue more, clearly recognizing when the fight was lost. His impression of the Royals didn’t match with a thankful and confident group of people, who would be satisfied that they simply had the fleeting loyalty for the time being. He believed they would go more in the direction of securing their interests, whatever the costs may be. Well, in the end, what did he really know? It wasn’t like he had studied politics in any great detail.

Jack and Alan spent some more time playing Warring Kingdoms, before Alan had to get home to dinner. On his way home, he noticed a procession of priests, clearly in a hurry, as they aggressively pushed their way past people in their way. There were four burly, black robed priests walking in formation, all seemed to be armed with morningstars and shields. A man in front of the formation, seemingly tasked with clearing the way, had a white robe and a simple staff in his hand. At the back of the group was an elder, clad in vivid purple and gold. His eyes seemed focused on something far away, as if the ongoings around him were below his station to bother about. In the middle of the black clad formation Alan thought he could glimpse a blue robe and long blond hair, though he didn’t get a second look. As Alan summed himself, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one that had stopped to watch the procession pass, as several people were standing around looking in the direction the priests had stalked off to.

“A prophet..” Someone said out loud, clearly astounded at having seen one.

“Never a good sign,” someone else uttered, though Alan couldn’t pick out who from the crowd that had slowly gathered in the wake of the priests.

“What do you think is happening?” A shaky, feminine voice could be heard asking, with worry.

“Nothing good, I’ll tell Ya’ that,” a gruff voice answered. “Them prophets only ever leave their chambers to foretell of doom and disasters, and they don’t care enough about us small folks to give us a real warning until it’s far too late for any preparing.” The gruff voice turned angry at the end, though Alan didn’t stay to listen on further, choosing instead to head back home in a hurry.

“Mom, what color does prophets dress in?” Alan asked as he sat by the dinner table with his family in the evening.

“I don’t know, sweatie, why are you wondering?” His mother answered, in the middle of cleaning up after the meal.

“I think I saw one today.” Alan answered slowly, thinking about the encounter. “They seemed to be in a hurry”.

“They dress in blue,” Alexar said, looking concerned at Alan. “And they never bring good news. Did you see one today, heading towards the palace?”

Alan looked to his father, and noticed the almost grim expression on his face. “Yes, now that you mention it, that was probably where they were headed.” Alan said, trying to figure out if the direction he saw them leave matched his mental map of the city and the position of the palace. “Why did someone in the crowd claim that the prophets don’t care about the common people? Weren’t they on the way to inform about something that affects most of the Kingdom? Mom, didn’t you say something about that they only come with general prophecies that affect more or less everyone.” Alan asked, looking to his mother.

“Well, yes, but-” Naida started, but was interrupted by Alan’s father.

“They only speak to the King directly.” Alexar stated, crossing his arms in front of him. “The prophets only job is to inform the King of an upcoming event, and then it is the King’s decision to inform the people or not.” There was with a sort of accepting frown that Alexar continued. “The general population is usually not informed of prophecies, though it has happened before. It is a hard decision to make, but often it is better for the people to live in ignorance rather than despair, if there’s nothing they can do about the situation.” Alan could see respect for the King’s usual decision to not inform in the eyes of Alexar, and guessed that Alexar had come to similar conclusions in his work as a guard captain.

“I’m not sure I agree with your view on this, but I understand where you’re coming from.” Alan said after some thought. His view on the public's right to know about almost everything was probably rather tainted by the fact that he had lived in ‘the information age’ back on Earth, as some called it. He could, however, understand the need to keep certain things under wraps, usually related to military secrets and such, even if he didn’t like it on principle.

There was another question that bothered Alan more, enough that he could let the prophecies lie for the time being. “Dad, how many students die before even getting into the mage academy? Today’s session with Aquillus just seemed incredibly dangerous.” Alan hadn’t asked Aquillus yet, as it somehow felt almost disrespectful to bring up the lacking safety of his family legacy method of training.

“It’s not something people talk about,” Alexar began slowly, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “I don’t know all that much about how different families do their initiation rites and training sessions, but I know I lost two friends to ‘magical accidents’, as their family called it.” A frown was growing while he continued. “It is what we noble sacrifice for our power. It might not seem fair, to put you through something like that,” he paused, looking Alan in the eyes. “But it is necessary.” He stated finally, with weight behind his words.

“How could you possibly deem it necessary to sacrifice children? To keep the family in power? That’s insane!” Disgust was written clearly on Alan’s face, and he failed to keep his voice in check as it broke halfway through his questions.

“You better watch your mouth, boy,” Alexar answered darkly, his hands slamming into the dining table to emphasize his anger. “The lifestyle of the nobles might seem all flowery and idyllic to you, because you’ve been raised in a time of peace, and we thank the gods for that. But when war arrives on the Kingdom’s doorstep, who do you think is tasked with defending it? The farmers? The merchants?” Alexar’s look started changing from angry to weary and tired as he continued. “The nobles can live such opulent lifestyles in peacetimes, because when war arrives, we are the front line against the enemy. The power we get from the children we sacrifice, as you put it, is what holds the enemy at bay, and saves countless civilian lives.” Tension drained from his body as he explained, and soon Alexar was leaning back in his seat, his hands fallen from the table. “We’re not perfect, not by a longshot, but we nobles do what is necessary for the country to survive. Sure, some of us are haughty, act like privileged brats when we don’t get what we want, or cause some problems here and there. It’s an inherent danger of holding so much power alone, it can corrupt and twist anyone. But when we are needed at the front, we leave it all behind to protect the Kingdom, even if it might be our final resting place. You’d do well to remember that, before you start accusing us of murdering children in our greed for power.”

The conversation quickly fell away after that. Naida had kept silent throughout, deciding not to give her input to the discussion. It felt wrong to Alan, it all felt wrong, but did he really have the right to judge them? He’d grown up in USA, one of the most powerful countries in the world. Alexar was doubly right in his assertion that Alan had grown up in times of peace, as both his childhoods had been peaceful. Sure, his country might have been involved in a war some place or other, but it had all been so far removed from his reality that he’d never had to take it into consideration. The general population could squabble and fight over the little things because they were never threatened by bigger issues. And, Alan mused, conscripting teenagers to fight in the army on the other side of the world isn’t all that different from putting them through dangerous magical rituals, in terms of how likely it is that some of them die in the process. It still felt wrong.