The Sunday after the eventful dinner at the Storm Estate, Alan and Marissa took their usual trip out into the Rosewoods to practice magic. Both on the way there, and the way back, they had heard town criers announcing that the King would hold a speech midday on the following day, at the south gates of the city.

Marissa had quickly noticed that Alan seemed to know something about the speech, and had thus kept nagging him for details for the entire session, refusing to do her meditation exercises. Alan had done his best to hold back, but had finally given in at the end, and told her about what he’d heard from Archmage Storm.

Marissa’s mood had immediately fallen when she heard about it, but not because she feared a potential war, as that concept was still a bit big for her. Alan therefore went on to create a small white lie, stating that he had been invited to the residence because the Archmage had found out about his lightning magic, and wanted to have a serious talk, man to man. After he assured her that she’d definitely be invited to the residence as well some day, she brightened up again.

The rest of the day Alan spent with his family, which included dinner and a heated discussion about the state of the Kingdom, after Alan had revealed some of the things he’d heard from Magnus Storm. His parents were understandably worried, and the discussions had an undercurrent of fear throughout them. Naida began to debate the necessity of applying to the mage academy, opting instead for introducing Alan to the mercantile trade. Alexar vehemently refused, stating that it was Alan’s duty to go to the academy if he was able, and defend the Kingdom when called upon. When the debate heated to the point of shouting between his parents, Alan quietly left for his room, the debate raging on in his absence.

Alan was torn on the question himself. While he had no wish whatsoever to find himself in any way involved in a war, he had in a way pledged himself to the pursuit of magic through his training with Aquillus, and there was a clear expectancy from his teacher that he enter the mage academy as soon as possible. While there were several places to end up outside of the military after becoming a mage, the King had a right to call upon all mages in times of war, to defend the Kingdom from outside threats. They would all be invaluable in one way or another to a war effort, even if they had little or no direct combat capability.

Alan slept fitfully that night, dreaming of war, destruction and death.

Alan met up at school for the usual time Monday morning, along with most of the other students. Catherine had given him a murderous glare when she arrived, but otherwise hadn’t said much to anyone. Marissa had happily greeted everyone in her usual fashion, managing to brighten Catherine’s mood significantly.

When the teacher for the day arrived, he informed them that they would be doing a short field trip to the south gates, to listen to the King’s speech. He also informed them that he expected a short text from each of them on the speech, on both form and content, and that they would take time to discuss it afterwards in class.

The class left for the south gates in an orderly fashion, which quickly devolved into groups of people discussing the upcoming events. Alan noticed Marissa gossiping eagerly, spreading the information she had dragged out of him the previous day. Catherine came up with a slew of different ideas, as if to oppose Marissa, but was really just enjoying teasing the redhead, who valiantly defended her position and refused to reveal her source.

The group arrived at the gates after about half an hour of walking, and Alan quickly understood why the King had chosen the gate as the location for his speech. It was not just that the gate was raised about 20 meters up in the air, which provided him with a good vantage point and stage. The location also had a lot of space, as there was a good 50 meters of clear space between the walls and the closest houses, in addition to the almost 10 meters meters wide avenue that went a good 100 meters into the city, providing a well sized square. It was nowhere near enough to adequately fit all the spectators though, but room was quickly made for the children of nobility, so the class managed to find a suitable place close enough to the gates.

“Presenting His Majesty King Leon of Alamar!” A loud voice washed over everyone present, immediately creating an unnatural silence in its wake.

Alan, along with everyone else present, looked up to the top of the gate, and spotted several figures clad in dark colors. In the middle of the formation, a man in reflective steel armor and clad in a rich blue cape, stepped up on a small podium, standing a few feet taller than everyone around him.

Someone kneeled at the sight of King Leon, and like a wave, the kneeling propagated through the crowd. Alan quickly figured he’d rather kneel like the rest than stand out, though he didn’t like it much.

“Citizens of Patros! People of Alamar! Please rise.” The voice was warm and clear, like a grandfather talking at a family gathering. There was clearly some sort of magic amplification involved, but it lacked the loudness Alan had experienced from the announcer, or previously from the Royal Shadow.

“I have asked you out here today, to inform you of recent events. As many of you have probably heard by now, I was presented with a prophecy some time ago. The prophecy spoke of war to come, and of times of hardship to follow.”

People stirred in the crowd around Alan, though no one gave voice to their thoughts yet.

“We are no strangers to war. Our Kingdom has seen its fair share.” Alan heard murmurs of agreement around him.

“But we do not seek it. War brings death, suffering and starvation. Some find glory in war, but many find death or disability as their greatest reward. We strive for peace, always, whenever it can be found.”

There were voices of agreement around Alan now, though he also heard a few dissenting words.

“The prophecy warned of a war more terrifying than anything we’ve seen before. But prophecies do not always come to pass. We live today, and only the Gods know tomorrow. We are not, however, passively sitting by to let the future unfold itself. If there is to be a war, we will be ready, be assured of that.”

The calm and comforting voice seemed to contradict the conveyed message, but it didn’t bother Alan much. Alan expected himself to be agitated by talk of war, but he felt surprisingly calm and safe. His sentiment was shared by many around him, too, as they calmed down and listened, both assenting and dissenting voices dying down.

“We will be ready for war, but we will do what we can to preserve the peace. Some of us are leaving today, for that very purpose. I am convinced that peace can be preserved through diplomacy, and while the Diplomatic Corps have my full trust and support, I have decided to accompany them myself for this mission.”

Murmurs broke out among the spectators at the last comment. The King acting in person in diplomatic missions had not happened in decades. The threat of war suddenly felt dangerously close. Alan had known from before, so he wasn’t surprised to hear it, but several of his classmates seemed taken aback by the declaration. Even Drake seemed shaken, his usual arrogant smile vanished.

“I see uncertain faces among you, understandably so.” The king continued. “I have not made it a habit to join diplomatic expeditions lately. But do not fear, my people, have faith. Have faith in our diplomats. Have faith in our mission. Have faith in our kingdom!”

King Leon took a short break here, looking out at his people, before uttering the final words of his speech. “There will be peace in our time!”

The king received cheering and applause from almost all spectators at the end, an ovation lasting for several minutes after he left his makeshift podium. The previously uncertain and shaken faces of Alan’s classmates had been invigorated by the end of the speech, and they were all smiles and cheers now. All except Alan.

Peace in our time, Alan thought. He felt ice creep up his spine, and settle in his bones. He wasn’t sure if history repeating itself was a thing across worlds, but he sure as hell didn’t think it was impossible. Some of his fear must have seeped into his expression, Alan noted, as Marissa turned to him to share some of her hope and happiness, the words died in her throat when she saw his face. Before she managed to ask, however, the crowds started moving, and the class was soon swept up in the stream of people leaving the gates.

Alan hadn’t really thought it through. He had just written exactly what he thought about the speech, as that was exactly what the teacher had asked for. The fact that he was now standing in the office of the headmaster, was a clear sign that he should have put some filter on his writing.

“The words chosen by the King were hand picked to create an illusion of assured peaceful outcome. He took into account that news of him leaving personally would create fear, and alleviated those fears by shifting focus to the assured peaceful outcome due to his intervention. In truth, the King himself probably fears the prophecy too much to trust in diplomats to solve this, and used simple rhetoric to trick the people into a false sense of security. In truth, a war is the most likely outcome, and the people have a right to know that probability. They need time to prepare, stockpile supplies, find potential shelters and escape paths.“

The headmaster put down Alan’s paper in favor of giving Alan a scrutinizing look.

“Where is this coming from?” The headmaster asked. Alan didn’t remember his name, though he was certain he had heard it plenty of times.

“It was just what I thought of it right after. I don’t have a better explanation than that.” Alan said, looking down at his feet. He honestly hadn’t thought things through, he’d just put down whatever was on his mind. They’d been given time to write about the speech right after they returned to school the previous day, and Alan hadn’t been thinking straight, apparently.

“Are you trying to undermine the King? To create public unrest?”

“What?? No!” Alan looked up, angry at the accusation. “It’s just an essay for school. You can’t possibly accuse me of trying to create public unrest because of an essay the school required me to write!”

The headmaster relented his gaze at that, though his suspicion was not entirely absent afterwards.

“I suppose you are right. Anyways, this sort of thinking is not to spread to the other students, do you understand me?” The stern look gave no room for argument from Alan.

“I understand.”

Alan left the headmasters office, feeling like an idiot. There was no reason to write down his real thoughts on the essay, and he really should have remembered that when he was sitting there, putting his concerns down on paper. Sometimes he wondered how much his thinking was affected by his biological age. If fear could rob him of reasoning, then he didn’t want to imagine what puberty and the hormonal chaos it entailed would do to his thought processes. Nothing good at least, he mused.

A gloomy atmosphere descended on Patros in the days following the King’s speech. Alan noticed it mostly in the eyes of strangers passing by on the street. The way they seemed to be in more of a hurry wherever they were going, fewer smiles were exchanged in greetings, and conversations were just a bit hushed, as if speaking too loud might attract unwanted attention.

Alan finally took his aim for a part time job seriously, and asked about, starting at his mother's working place, the Evanescent Threads. He was gently rebuffed, on account of a lowering demand for new clothes and thus lower income for the business. Alan realised this matched well with a city preparing for hard times, and acknowledged to himself that the speech offered by the King might have been meant as a very gentle reminder to the people that war might be coming, even if every attempt was made to avert it. Taking this into account, Alan expected demand for arms and armor to rise, and thus went to the familiar blacksmith that had helped him create his prototype railgun.

Alan’s guess seemed to have been spot on, as Arms of Almer, as the blacksmith was named, was a hub of activity. Brandon recognized Alan upon entering, and immediately let go of his work.

“Hey kid, haven’t seen you around in a while.” Brandon quickly instructed an apprentice to go keep an eye on his work in his absence, turning back to Alan with a smile. “I had hoped you’d come by again with another interesting design, but alas, as you can see, we are somewhat busy now. Large orders came in some time ago, and we’re all hands on deck trying to keep up with the demand here.” Brandon spread his arms, pointing to the blur of activity going on behind him.

“Hello Sir,” Alan opened respectfully, “I’m not here to order anything, I actually came here looking for a part time job.”

Brandon’s smile faltered slightly, and he seemed somewhat confused.

“Why would you need a job? And what do you mean part time? You showed me real potential of becoming a mage last time you were here...” Brandon let the sentence hang in the air, hinting of the knowledge that a noble shouldn’t be about looking for odd jobs here and there, grasping for pennies.

Alan, realising that his behaviour could be understood as suspicious, quickly tried to alleviate the situation.

“In my family, it is seen as necessary to work for what you want, instead of being given anything you point at. I am currently in need of funds to continue my project, which you helped start with the device you constructed for me, thus I need a source of income.” Alan stated, embellishing freely as needed. “As for the part time aspect, I would still need to attend school, so I would have to come here to help out in the evening. I want to clear up any misunderstanding early though, I’m not trying to become an apprentice and learn your trade from you, and I would swear to keep secret any technique for smithing you would not be willing to share with an outsider.” Alan paused for a short while, structuring his thoughts.

“I believe I can be of help, working the bellows, running errands, or anything else of simple manual labour you’d need here in the shop.”

Brandon took a long time thinking about the proposal, looking intensely at Alan as if to lure out any hidden agenda.

“Aye, I guess you could be of help around here. Especially so in the evening, when my apprentices have to run home and do family errands,” Brandon finally admitted, which made Alan release a breath he hadn’t known he withheld.

“If you work 4 hours a day, 5 days a week, I’ll give you 1 silver piece a month to start with, and we’ll take it from there. Do we have a deal?” Brandon asked, transitioning easily from suspicious tradesman to experienced shopkeeper.

Alan paused to do some mental calculations. A silver a month roughly equated to 5 copper per day, or a bit more than 1 copper per hour work. It was a very low wage, but the way Brandon framed it meant this could increase if he proved his value.

“If you promise to increase my wages as I prove my worth, I’ll accept.” Alan answered slowly.

“Then we have a deal!” Brandon answered with a smile, clasping Alan’s hand in a crushing handshake, with a gleam in his eyes. “When can you start?”

“I’ll have to inform my family, and get something to eat, then I’ll start right away!” Alan said, and started running home as soon as he finished speaking. His own eagerness surprised him, but he accredited that to finally getting back a small part of the familiar sensation of responsibility and contribution to society one felt when someone valued your work enough to pay for it.

Naida and Alexar were surprised at his revelations that he had gotten a job. Alexar was mostly proud that Alan felt a need to contribute to society, as he had stated as the reason behind his sudden decision. Naida was concerned that he was taking on too much, with both school and magical training going on, but she didn’t try to prevent him from his goals.

Alan was put to work as soon as he returned to the blacksmith. His first tasks were errands to suppliers of ores and coal, making sure that the orders were on their way and would be delivered on time. Other tasks usually involved cleaning and tidying up after the other apprentices had finished their work for the day, helping Brandon by getting him equipment as he forged, or working the bellows. Alan went about his tasks with gusto, and was dead tired by the end of the four hours, having done more manual labour in one day than he usually did in weeks. Brandon only chuckled lightly as he ushered a tired Alan out, and told him to get some rest and work equally hard the next day.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur for Alan, and he felt like he was being worked to the bone by both Brandon and Aquillus. His magical training now consisted of keeping a candle sized flame going for as long as possible, while simultaneously fighting off an aura bombardment that was increasingly difficult as Aquillus felt he was ready for it, and keeping concentration through slaps with the stick. Work in the smithy was physically tiresome and rewarding, but Alan also increasingly tried to split his focus so that he could keep up his aura exercises simultaneously, making the work mentally taxing as well.

And so his days went by, mostly in a state of physical and mental exhaustion. The meditation and training sessions with Marissa had to be rescheduled for sundays, but she didn’t mind. Alan blamed the lack of enthusiasm for magical training from Marissa on the fact that her progression had slowed a lot, mostly due to the lack of good exercises for further training. Changing body temperature was well and good, but there was a limit to how much one could change it, and how exciting it was to do repeatedly, and since Alan didn’t manage to do any mana bombardment on Marissa, that avenue for progression was closed for the time being.

Marissa also revealed another reason for her lack of interest in magical practice, namely that she wanted to spend more time with friends after school instead of practicing. She refrained from going into details, however, and Alan didn’t pry.

In general, Alan found he enjoyed the hectic days of hard work, as they brought with them a routine and stability, where he had less time to himself and his thoughts. He found that the sudden pangs of missing his old family hit him less often, and that the fulfilling feeling of finishing a day of work gave him peace from the darker thoughts and worries that’d been troubling him.

Life was good.