Marek couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so lost as he stood on the bow of a ship, watching Velaire steadily disappear. The day itself was glorious with a brightly shining sun, few clouds, and little to no wind. He wished he felt as much. He had bought a ticket to be ferried from Velaire to Malda, a three-hour journey that should see him in Malda in time to have dinner.

While this was something he had always wanted to do, Marek found no joy in finally being able to make the journey to Malda.

Marek clenched his fists as he leaned over the prow, closing his eyes as he tried to will the waves of embarrassment away that had yet to fade. The meeting hadn’t gone well at all. Of course, he should’ve expected it, but he had been surprised by Wyatt’s vehemence. He hated mages as a concept, which was fine. Marek didn’t like his brethren either. Still, Wyatt’s visceral hatred painted Marek with the same broad brush, and for a moment, Marek had thought that Wyatt was going to attack him.

Marek shuddered. Thank Velaire that didn’t happen. Even with magic, Marek wasn’t confident in his ability to defend himself should someone of Wyatt’s caliber come for him. Not in the slightest.

Just from watching him move about, he was fast and strong and didn’t look as though his retirement of the past few years had dulled his edge. When Wyatt had told him no, Marek had been fascinated. He had never seen Wyatt before—he had left slightly before he had arrived—but he had heard of him, of the implacable Guard Captain that was concerned with justice above all things. He cared not if it meant that he would gather many powerful enemies, which he’d done.

Still, Marek understood why Wyatt didn’t want to go. He was a mage, and he barely wanted to interact with other magicals. He had no use for the politics and back-stabbing that dominated the Citadel. He could do it, but it didn’t mean that he wanted to.

And yet I will when I return, Marek thought. The Citadel breeds schemers. The shoreline had finally vanished, and Marek felt a weight lift off his shoulders. At last, he could be himself. There were no expectations of him anymore. He had switched his robes for a tunic and a pair of trousers once he had left Wyatt’s bar. Now that he was out of Velaire and the surrounding area he was free.

Free and yet bereft. Marek had bought the ticket because he had wanted to, not because he had a plan. Originally, it would’ve been as he had said—he would’ve started a mercenary company to both explore the world and be useful. If there was one thing that Marek hated, it was the feeling of uselessness. He had felt it a few times before, and he never wanted to feel it again. He would do whatever he had to ensure that he was always in control, or at least in a position where he could manage a situation.

An elegant woman accompanied by what looked like a smartly dressed aide stomped up the stairs behind him, bringing Marek out of his reverie. She was older, probably in her late sixties. She was well-to-do, wearing a light fur coat, and had her grey hair done in a stylish bun that noble ladies preferred. She pursed her red lips when she noticed Marek staring at her. He inclined his head enough to hopefully avoid offense, turning his way back to the bow to look over the water.

“No,” the woman said as she finally struggled up to the bow. She sounded as though being irritable was a choice she made when she woke up every day. “Leave me be, damn you. If I need help, I will ask, and not a moment before. Away with you, for now. I will call when I’m in need of aid.”

Marek rolled his eyes as the aide muttered an “as you wish,” leaving Marek and the woman alone on the bow. There was a slight thump as the boat crested over a wave, sending the woman stumbling to the side of the ship. He turned around to see if the woman had fallen, but instead, she was standing straight and glaring at him.

“What are you staring at?” the woman demanded. There were spots of red on her cheeks.

“Nothing, madam,” Marek said smoothly, keeping his laughter inside. Thank Diev for my classes in diplomacy. “Might I have your name?”

“Loraine,” the woman said after a brief pause. She raised an eyebrow. “And yours?”

“Marek, madam,” Marek said, smiling and bowing his head. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your trip so far?”

“Think you’re funny, do you?” Loraine said, her glare redoubling.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” Loraine snapped. “There is no need to poke fun at another’s misfortune. My ‘trip’ indeed.”

“I’m… sorry?” Marek asked, completely at a loss. He ran a hand through his hair, a headache beginning to form as he accidentally lifted his amulet by its chain into Loraine’s view. “I meant no offense.”

“Indeed,” Loraine huffed, turning away and ending their conversation.

Marek rolled his eyes and looked back onto the lake. The boat he and this… woman was on was among the first of this new kind of vessel. Not built for war or trade, it was instead a ‘touring vessel’ where well-to-do individuals would pay the ship’s captain to take them on a cruise that would last most of the day. It could take them from Velaire to Malda if they desired or just sail around the lake in peaceful silence.

Marek chanced a glance at Loraine, who was still glaring at the lake like it owed her money. Taking his chance, he left, walking down the stairs and away from her. To his annoyance, Loraine followed, stumbling as the boat crested another wave. Marek hesitated, wanting to help, but instead shrugged and kept going.

If she wants help, she’ll ask, Marek thought snidely.

The pair descended the stairs in silence until they reached the main deck. The small crew was hustling around, making sure the boat sailed on course. They were all men and looked to be in good shape, with rippling muscles and tanned complexions, suggesting that the sea life was fairly good at keeping them in shape. Marek was by no means an expert seaman, but considering the day, it looked like a show that they were putting on to fool the gullible. He looked at the woman again, who was staring at the men with undisguised fascination.

“I like men with hair on their chest,” Loraine said.

Marek blinked.

“You do?” Marek said stupidly, turning to face Loraine again. There wasn’t anyone else on deck except the woman’s aide and another gentleman, who was occasionally glancing at her with more than a little trepidation. Unlike the aide, he was wearing fine clothes like the woman, although his cloak was forest green instead.

Her husband, probably. Poor man.

“Of course,” Loraine said, lifting her chin arrogantly. “Do you think I come onto these boats because I love sailing? You’ve seen me after every little wave. I would be lost in a storm.”

“Fascinating,” Marek said, suddenly wishing for a storm to appear. He pointed to the man standing beside Loraine’s aide. “Is that your husband over there, Loraine?”

“Frederick?” Loraine laughed. It was shrill and fake-sounding. “Oh no, he’s just a friend, a good friend of my husband’s. Couldn’t bear for me to go sailing alone, he said. Thinks I’ll be washed overboard. Such a silly man.”

“Pity,” Marek muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh,” Marek said, casting about for something to say. “I was just thinking that it would be a pity if you were swept overboard, that’s all.”

The woman laughed again. Marek gritted his teeth at the sound of it. Perhaps I should just throw myself overboard and spare my ears.

“I’ll introduce us to Frederick. I’m sure he would be happy to meet you,” Loraine said, grabbing his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “He has a fascination with relics like the one around your neck. What is it if I might be so bold to ask?”

“I’m not sure,” Marek said, inwardly cursing his stupidity. I should have put the amulet back the moment it came free. “A friend gave it to me.”

“Oh,” Loraine said. She sounded incredibly disappointed and not nearly as cheerful as she had been moments before. “A pity. Still, I’m sure Frederick will entertain us. He has so many delightful little anecdotes. I’m sure time will just fly by!”

“Great,” Marek said, feeling trapped. Loraine began to lead him across the deck when an even bigger wave hit the sailboat. It was big enough to make Marek stumble, and more than enough to send Loraine careening toward the one side of the boat without siding.

“Marek!”

Marek leapt forward, his amulet burning on his chest. It began to glow a faint red light, enough to almost distract him. He determined Loraine was too far away to reach, so he flicked his wrist, sending his Dominion Wood wand from his wrist holster to his hand. Cries of alarm sounded throughout the ship, including directly behind him. Marek ignored them.

The amulet burned on his chest, and Marek saw in his mind what would happen if he didn’t save her: she would fall in the lake, be swept under by her heavy furs, and drown almost immediately. No one would be able to help her in time. Only Marek.

Marek opened himself to his magic. He imparted his will upon the environment around him. He was the master here. As a fully trained Mage, his mental prowess outshone almost all others.

Marek pictured a breeze in his mind’s eye, enough to push Loraine back to the deck. It was difficult, more so than what he initially expected, but Loraine’s widening eyes staring at his wand helped. The more people believed in what he was doing, the easier it was. It was partly why magical duels were so incredibly dangerous. Two highly trained individuals imposing their will on one another, waiting for one to slip and believe in the other’s superiority. Once that occurred, the other magical would win the duel because all it took was a moment of belief.

Loraine believed, and Marek used that belief to help conjure the gale that pushed her back onto the deck. She fell forward onto the deck and not backward into the lake, gasping for breath. The entire encounter had taken place in less than ten heartbeats.

“You… are a Mage…” Loraine gasped. Her aide and Frederick rushed up to her side. Her aide helped her up, fretting while Frederick stood beside them, rubbing his hands together nervously as he stared at Marek’s wand with wide eyes.

Marek slid the wand back up his sleeve and into his holster. He bowed. “Marek the Mage, recently graduated from The Citadel,” he said, bowing deeply. He was operating purely on instinct right now, in utter shock at what Marast’s amulet had done. It grants me visions! Marek mentally crowed. Visions from the Almighty himself!

“Your trinket glowed,” Frederick said. He had a quiet voice. “The trinket around your neck. It glowed red.”

“A trick of the light, I assure you,” Marek said before turning his attention back to Loraine. “I’m on my World Tour at the moment, Madam, and wished to travel incognito. I apologize if I have given offense.”

“Apologize? You just saved my life!” Loraine said.

Marek continued the conversation, explaining his backstory, what a World Tour meant, and where he planned to go next. All the while, he kept thinking about the amulet.

Divine-Wrought, Marek thought. It was difficult not to snap at Loraine, her aide, or Frederick and not bustle away to study it further. Instead, he continued to talk with them, accepting congratulations from the pale Captain, who handed him a slip in his writing that promised a free boat ride from him or anyone else in his family.

“There are many of us out there,” the Captain said, shaking his head when Marek had tried to deny the reward. “That may come in handy for you one day. Keep it.”

Marek kept it, and with Loraine chattering in his ear the rest of the journey to Malda, he began to plan.

I don’t need to become a mercenary captain from legend, Marek thought. He had just saved a woman’s life doing the right thing, which was a gift in and of itself. Maybe he would volunteer somewhere? It had felt good using his magical gifts for something other than rote studying, and with the amulet, nothing could steer him wrong.

I’ll make my own way, Marek thought as they arrived in Malda. He would do what he wished, then eventually come back to Velaire when he had enough worldly experience. With the amulet to guide me, I cannot go wrong.