“The Imperial Capital Aestril is an everlasting miracle of magic and technology. Its citizens are eternally grateful toward the Second Emperor, for since his reign the city has never known the scorching heats of summer and the blizzards of winter. Seasons are bending to the will of the Imperial Capital Aestril. In eternal reconnaissance to the Second Emperor, the Academy was founded in the southern district. Here, generations of devoted mages follow the footsteps of history's strongest mage, the Second Emperor himself. In the western district, the esteemed traveller can witness the greatness of the Imperial Palace, eternal in its glory and its heigh that is rumoured to reach the skies. We have yet to be thankful enough to the Second Emperor for this majestic gift that shines and represents the Empire's might across to continent.

-Official travelling guide, chapter XVI”

* * *

Azcheron

“What the hell is this ?” Azcheron asked in an offended voice.

“I told you already. It's from the official travelling guide,” Erin answered in an amused tone.

“Let me guess, recommended by the Empire ?”

“You bet.”

“Urgh. Are you sure about this ? I've never heard anyone, ever, calling the capital something else than 'the capital', let alone 'Aestril'. I think you got scammed or something ?”

Azcheron and Erin arrived in the capital an hour ago and after saying farewell to Jormas and the others, they decided to take a walk so that Erin could show around a few things to Azcheron. Unfortunately for him, Erin insisted on reading out excerpts from the official travelling guide, and seemed to be delighted by his reactions.

“I'm not surprised. I've never heard anyone use the real name of the city either. I don't know why. I don't even think anyone knows why.”

“And the people from this country have a serious issue with words like 'eternal', 'eternally' and 'everlasting'. Also, what's the deal with this Second Emperor ?”

“Ha, I guess you wouldn't understand. The history books around here aren't exactly foreign to nepotism and propaganda. Who knows whatever junk they made us learn ?”

“Well, at least they didn't lie about that weather thing. It's still cold, but clearly not as much as it is outside. I admit I'm impressed. Is the whole place built on a mana well or something ?”

“I think so. I don't see how they could make whatever artefact they're using work properly, if that wasn't the case.”

They were currently in the eastern district's main boulevard. Facing the centre of the city, they could see, covered in darkness by the setting sun, the east face of the immense palace. From its elevated position – the already huge and towering palace was built on a plateau – it casted a large shadow over the capital.

The high and dark building was standing out against the blood-red sky. The outline of the moon circling the top of the palace gave to the whole scene an feeling of grandeur.

Some faint dots of light could be already seen in the distance, but there was no way to know whether they were stars or the visible manifestation of the thick mana around the city.

The capital was built large, but also high. It was nothing like the villages he saw, or even cities like Longhills or Quarras. Each and every house had at least three or four floors, sometimes much more, and the important buildings like government offices and guilds were of an even more imposing height.

From time to time despite the tall blocks of houses overhanging the streets, Azcheron could catch glimpses, in the south, of the black and pointy-roofed towers belonging to the Academy.

Apparently, to honour his megalomania, the Second Emperor's admirers decided to give the magic school's grounds the size, heigh and appearance of a large and tall castle. It was a castle, in the end. Yet for the same obscure reasons as to why everyone always called the capital 'the capital', no-one ever called the Academy a 'castle'.

Azcheron was quite curious to discover what other 'cultural oddities' could lay among the many unspoken laws and customs of the Empire.

Seeing as they hadn't much time left before nightfall, they set off for the southern district to meet Anton.

* * *

Azcheron had forgotten to ask Anton where he lived, and naturally Erin would not be of any help.

He only knew it was close to the Academy (and that's were he asked his letter to be delivered, he just assumed people there knew him and would hand him the letter – of course, it was also based on the hope that the letter was indeed delivered, or that nothing had happened to Anton) so while wandering in its neighbourhood, he questioned everyone they'd cross.

Most of the time the endeavour was without result, but on some occasions he'd hear something unexpected.

It went along the lines of “Anton Vardt ? Ah, Anton the bootless ! Sorry, I don't know where he lives.” or “Professor Vardt, yes. I can't help you find him, though if you do I hope you brought spare boots !”.

Those answers came from young people who looked like students, and were followed by a snicker of some sort.

Since they didn't find anything pertaining Anton apart from his strangely famed boot problem – of which Azcheron obviously made a note in his mind – they decided to go to the Academy and ask some more responsible looking individuals.

The two wanderers finally got hold of an address after politely talking to some civilized old moustached professor in front of the Academy, as the evening courses had just finished and many people were quietly going home with tired expressions.

Or rather, they were lucky enough to grab the old man among the insane flow of people exiting through the massive doors, and since the victim was perfectly displeased to be delayed in such fashion, he quickly gave his abductors their long sought answer to shoo them away.

They were relieved, seeing as it was already late and that neither could afford to ask someone else for lodging for the night. They didn't want to sleep in an inn after their long journey, they wanted real comfort. Anton was Azcheron's only acquaintance in the capital and Erin categorically refused to go to her family's manor.

Azcheron and Erin had discussed that beforehand. She wasn't keen on relying on Anton, not that she didn't trust him – she insisted that even if she had never met him, knowing that Azcheron trusted him highly was enough for her – but she already felt indebted to Azcheron and didn't want to impose on one of his friend.

Still, he managed to convince her. It was her job to protect him from the trouble he'll inevitably jump into, he said. She seemed to like the pretext.

Azcheron was now rather annoyed and grumpy that the evening turned out to be mostly a waste of time. He should have decided to ask an old guy at the Academy much earlier. He knew Anton to be a man who'd stay awake and work until late in the night, so he didn't stop himself from banging loudly on the door when they finally arrived, to vent his frustration.

The maid who came to answer the 'knocking' wore a confused and slightly apprehensive expression, that turned into a clearly afraid and panicking one when she was met with the two visitors : a strange angry-looking young man and a frightening young woman with a scarred face and a huge sword.

It took several minutes for Anton to convince his maid Tania that Azcheron and Erin weren't here to extort or assassinate him.

* * *

Anton

They went and sat in the lounge. Since no one had eaten yet, Tania brought them leftovers from lunch.

“So, what have you been up to, dear bootless friend ?”

Anton almost choked on his food. “You ! Why do YOU know about that !!?”

“Hahaha ! We only heard of your new title while we searched for your house. We don't know the story behind it – surely it is a story worthy of poems and epics ?” He seemed delighted by Anton's reaction.

The old professor felt like kicking the Saint out of his house.

“Tch. Yes, yes, I'll tell you. But before that... you say 'we'...” He turned his head to the red haired girl. “May I ask who your companion is ?”

They hadn't introduced each other yet since they had to deal with Tania's half-justified panic attack. Anton had not expected Azcheron to bring a companion. He was who he was, and there weren't many people who had the mental fortitude to tolerate his personality. So, naturally, he was very curious to ascertain the identity of this tough-looking young woman.

Erin glanced at Azcheron, who nodded. “Erin... Verald. Pleased to meet you, Professor Vardt. Azcheron spoke highly of you.”

Anton frowned slightly.

Meeting nobles already ? And, this... could either end up nicely or messily.

“My, my. It is my pleasure, young lady.” He then addressed Azcheron. “You work fast. I was planning to get you introduced to some people, but I see my help may be unnecessary after all ?”

“It is nothing of the sort, Anton. We met during a bandit-bashing event, about two months ago. I'll tell you later. And... well. I need a favour.”

“Go on.” Anton could guess what the said favour was.

“She has her own circumstances, and shall be acting as my guard during my stay, so can I ask you to house her for the time being ?

“Yes... I imagined that much. I don't mind. I expected you to drag me into something as soon as you arrived.”

Anton was grinning, partly because he was amused, partly because he was being handed a bargaining chip against Azcheron. You simply never were in a position to bargain with the Rahal Saint. Koven Sarlas tried. It didn't end well.

Yet here he was, asking a favour. Naturally Anton had no reason to refuse, seeing as this would further his own scheme.

“I can say by the look on you face that you have something planned for me in exchange.”

“Hehe. Remember how you said you wanted to spend some time at the Academy ? I may have a suggestion that would satisfy both of us...”

“I don't see how this is detrimental to me... Yet. And I know that it is. You have that smile. You know, my smile. It's too late to hide that.”

Eh, it looks like I caught a bad habit because of you. Is that a disease or something ? A curse where you become obnoxious and start to plot against your friends ? He joked to himself.

“I won't beat around the bush then. I registered you to attend the Academy.”

Anton watched with glee as a horrified expression formed on Azcheron's face. He started to rant in that mana infused voice, but it was much faster – much angrier – than usual.

“ANTON, ARE YOU MOCKING ME ?! Is this what you've been planning ? I refuse to enrol as a student ! It would be unbecoming of me ! I am the Rahal Saint, you DO know that. And I already know what will happen if I do. Some conceited noble brat will take offence at the sudden arrival of an unknown prodigy of uncertain stature, and try to bully me or plan some convoluted revenge for the affront that is my existence. He will end up challenging me to a duel and I will try to warn him not to go down this route, because it happens way too much in those crappy books you gave me, but he won't back down because there will be onlookers and I will win, most likely I'll kill him to prove everyone my point, and this will cause an uproar. Now, I do not dislike uproars, I actually am planning to commit quite a few of them. I do not however like to be on the receiving end of such events. They will think about doing something stupid like expelling me or trying to imprison or execute me, which I in turn will rightfully take offence at, and I will end up flattening half the city. Which I don't want to do because I am planning to make use of the Academy's library in peace.”

Anton could see that Erin was suppressing her laughter. He could guess that she had taken a liking to Azcheron's antics and shenanigans – how else could you possibly not find him unbearable ? It was the same for him and any one who befriended Azcheron. Half of the time they'd be involved in his schemes, and the other half they'd be the target. You couldn't stay by his side if you weren't able to deal with that.

But now he was being subjected to Anton's plot. It was a sight anyone who knew him would enjoy.

“Are you done ?” he asked after a moment, chuckling.

“YES !”

“Calm down. You're scaring Tania. But I see your point. However I never said you were to attend as a regular student. And as a normal schoolboy, you wouldn't have access to the entirety of the library. There are some very ancient or sensible documents after all. The way I was thinking about, however, would grant you clearance for the whole inventory...”

“This is still fishy.”

“No matter what I say you won't trust me now so I don't care.”

“My distrust is justified ! But I'll let that affront slide if that's the price to pay for my favour. Plus, I too will be living here for some time. I admit that I require much from you. By the way, you said earlier that you took some initiative regarding my being introduced to the world. How exactly is it going ?”

“You've been invited to a large reception. It'll take place by the end of winter, I'll tell you when I know more. You managed to catch the interest of some important houses, you see. Of course, this is all thanks to me and my advertising talent.”

Azcheron crossed his arms and closed his eyes. “I see. Well done, Anton.” He was behaving like a lord congratulating his butler.

“What's with you 'planning uproars' as you say, and asking me to 'prepare' for your arrival, anyway ? I'm the one who rightfully has a bad feeling about the whole thing, you know ?”

Azcheron smiled at Anton's concerns.

“Why, it's simple !” His grin widened. “The might of the Rahal Clan needs to be known through the world. Also, my own might shall be acknowledged. I want to have a go at this glory thing.”

“What kind of acknowledgement are we talking about ? I feel doom impending.”

“People will learn about me.” He leaned closer to Anton. “I'll give them reasons to. With history books, even though they don't seem trustworthy around these parts, they'll remember me. Through gossip and whispers in the palace's corridors, even though they will be filled with hatred and anger, they'll envy me.”

He then laid back in the armchair.

“From children and old men, rumours about me will go around. From knights and mages, my achievements will spread. And from bards and poets, my legend will start.”

* * *

Tania

Tania awoke at dawn, the winter sun casting a dim light on her short dark brown hair. She jumped out off the warm bed, unto the cold floor, and before long she was ready for the day.

Anton and his guests had stayed up until late, debating many things with vigour and passion. That is, at least, what she assumed while hearing the yells and shouts and proclamations. Passionate, yes. Anton's friends must have been very passionate indeed.

She could swear that through the walls, she had heard the word 'boot' numerous times, followed by both laughter and screams of agony.

Her employer had been kind enough to give her the evening off, to do as she saw fit, seeing as they had a lot of catching up to do. She took his offer gladly and went to sleep early to be in shape for the following day.

So, here she was, sole inhabitant of the four-stories house awake at this hour. She went to the kitchen to make today's breakfast. Passing by the half-closed door leading to the lounge, she caught a glimpse of the coffee table, covered in glasses and empty bottles.

Tania smiled to herself. It wasn't often that Anton indulged in drinks and leisure. The evening seemed to have been a eventful one. As she was about to enter the room to clear the table, she noticed the professor sleeping on the large couch. He was in a seemingly uncomfortable position, and if it weren't for the alcohol, she thought, it'd be a wonder how he managed to fall asleep like that.

She covered him with a fur cover and left quietly the room. Cleaning could wait.

Thinking about Anton sleeping made her realize that she had not prepared a room for their second guest. The young man, Azcheron, if her memory served her well, had a room already done and ready for him, but not the woman, lady Verald – Tania had been told that her circumstances were particular. Hopefully she made herself at home and went to sleep in whatever chambers she deemed agreeable ! It wouldn't do to displease a Verald, no.

As she entered the kitchen, lost in thoughts, she couldn't help letting out a small yelp. Azcheron was sitting at the table, reading a book.

Already up ? No, perhaps he didn't sleep at all ?

He lifted his head up as he heard Tania.

“Oh, it's you. You surprised me. Good morning.”

YOU surprised me !

“Good morning, forgive me. I didn't expect to find someone here, especially at this hour. Did you not sleep ? Perhaps the room wasn't to your liking ?”

“Ah, yes. I did sleep, do not worry. But at some point I found myself unable to rest any longer, so I wandered around the house and found this book.” He showed her the cover. It was a cooking book of some sort. “Truly marvellous. I had never heard of dishes such as 'dragoncake' until now. Surely it is served to kings and heroes and the likes.”

“Err... It is a popular dessert among small children. It has nothing to do with dragons aside from its name and shape.”

“Indeed, yes, it does look mesmerizing,” he replied, half ignoring what she just told him, his eyes fixed on the handmade illustration.

“If I may ask, Azcheron ?” She waited for him to nod. “Did the lady Verald find a room to her taste ?”

“Yes, she did. Part of the reason why I had to halt my slumber. I'd like to ask you for a room with a larger bed next time, if it's not too much trouble ?”

Tania nodded and didn't pry, as she understood – or at least she believed she did – what he meant.

Whether or not Azcheron felt she somehow misinterpreted something, he did not bother to correct her.

* * *

???

The posterity will note that some authors, in their version of Azcheron's legend, having found an easy opportunity to make young maidens scream in joy and excitement, depicted the blonde mage and the red haired knight indulging into savoury relationship developments during that night.

History tells of a much less coloured truth : Azcheron had to relinquish his rights to a full night of rest, for Erin proved herself mighty and unbending in her drunk, agitated and disturbed sleep.

But the story of Azcheron's abruptly halved rest shall be spoken another time – or not spoken at all, who cares about something like that ! – for the story of his appearance at the Academy, marking his debuts in the public life, is now about to be told.