“Steady… Now!”

The noise of broken wood echoes. Someone exhales in relief, and splinters fall on the ground. Applause ensues.

With the spare time given to him, Ken continues his exploration of the Scorrest Academy. While his visit to the library gave him some interesting information worth thinking about, his next visit is a classroom. One whose interior, like the exterior, looks old. If it isn’t for the desks, shelves, books, and other classroom equipment, the classroom looks like it can substitute as a dungeon where the criminal is chained up.

What he just witnessed is a student punching his fist through a wooden shield. At the instructions of the instructor, the young student somehow increased his strength to be superhuman. The shield by no means was anything flimsy. The wood was thick and reinforced with iron. Yet, the young student seems unhurt by punching something that would otherwise break all the bones in anyone’s hand.

Ken sits in the back of the class, arms crossed, leaned back, legs kicked up; he’s quietly observing how ‘magic’ makes these kids seemingly invincible. One by one, each student demonstrates their magically enhanced physical prowess. It’s hard to make sense of any of it, and Ken feels an urge to ask the instructor how it works, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the class.

As time passes, Ken starts to envy the students. With seemingly no limit, how great would it be if he could also use magic? Even with his training, he isn’t sure how he could defeat a mage. He has experience with martial arts and is confident with his ability to fight. But seeing kids punch through shields makes him doubt if he can win a duel.

Ken also notices something else in the students. They look tired. He hasn’t been observing the class for too long, but some students simply look worn out. Some are even sweating as if they ran laps around campus. Perhaps there is a limit to their magic after all.

“We have reached the end of today’s session. Remember to practice controlling your output. You are dismissed.”

The class ends, and the students make their way to the door. Ken remains seated, and watches as the students all leave. Eventually, all that’s left is the instructor, Master Stoddard.

“I trust my lecture was enlightening?”

“Yeah, to some extent,” Ken says as he stands up from the chair.

“How so?”

“I still don’t understand what magic is, how it works, and how the students manipulated it. Everything I’ve found so far is too vague.”

“Hmm…” Master Stoddard strokes his beard.

Any assumption of Ken’s knowledge has to be questioned or thrown out. All Master Stoddard knows is that Ken has little understanding of anything, and he tries to come up with a good description of magic.

“I suppose magic is a natural force some people can manipulate. Students must reach from within—”

“That’s the part I don’t understand. Reach what from within?”

“All life has lifeforce. The energy that keeps us alive. Magic allows us to redirect that energy for other uses. We reach for that energy.”

At this time, the door opens, and a group of older students enters the classroom.

“Master Stoddard, we require your aid—oh, it seems you are busy.”

The student speaking looks at Ken, who in turns says, “Oh, I don’t mind.”

“With what do you require assistance?” Master Stoddard says.

Among the group of students, Ken sees a familiar face. It’s the same group he saw previously, the one with the green-haired girl who smiled at him. Awkwardly, the girl turns to him and smiles again while tilting her head. It seems she has some sort of interest in Ken.

“We’d like to conduct another experiment. We’re using another mixture and want to see its effects.”

“Very well. Kenneth? Would you join us for a magic experiment?”

“Sure, I’ll watch,” Ken says.

“Kenneth? Is it?” one of the students says.

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“Name’s Colby—”

“And I’m Lana,” the green-haired girl interrupts. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Lana extends her hand at Ken while her classmates look slightly surprised. Lana has always been quieter than others, and it is strange to see her take an interest in someone.

“Yeah, a pleasure to meet you too,” Ken says and shakes her hand.

“So, are you a new student? You look a tad older,” Colby says.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of.”

“Kenneth here is a guest of Master Hartelle, who assists with some of the academy’s projects.”

“Working with Master Hartelle? You must be quite the mage to be assigned for some of those projects. I hear they can be rather complicated to understand, even for the best of us.”

“Actually, I’m not a mage.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m just a normal person. Magicless.”

As the students stand confused, Master Stoddard walks towards the door.

“Kenneth assists not with magic but with insight. Come now, let us not waste any more time.”

.

.

As if about to duel, Master Stoddard stands a few meters from one of the students. The group is about to commence an experiment in an empty outdoor area roughly resembling a shooting range on campus grounds.

Next to the students not participating, Ken stands on the sidelines and watches with interest. The students have been experimenting with physical stamina and ways to extend magic consumption. Whatever that means, Ken doesn’t really know.

Lana explained to him that mages are known for having large appetites, which have been attributed to their magical abilities. The group, therefore, wanted to specifically test how foods affect stamina consumption when using certain magic attacks. One of the most tiring conjurations is fire magic, which is notorious for quickly depleting stamina.

For this experiment, the student participating will need to attack Master Stoddard with fire, with a consistent intensity, for as long as he can. Master Stoddard, meanwhile, will defend the attack to gauge the power output over the course of the experiment.

Needless to say, Ken has no idea how this will go down and is even somewhat excited. He is really curious to see fire magic and wonders how Master Stoddard will defend it.

“I am ready,” Master Stoddard says.

Master Stoddard slowly raises his hands in front of him as a gust of air pushes up dust from the ground. Right in front of his hands, the air distorts. The distorted air shapes itself into a two-dimensional oval resembling a shield, and a strange, ominous noise is emitted.

The student, meters away, also lifts his hands up. He pulls back his dominant hand as if he was about to punch. Yellow flames engulf his arm before attacking.

With fury, the student launches his hand forward as a wave of heat expands everywhere. More spectacularly imitating a flamethrower, a constant stream of yellow flames is thrown towards Master Stoddard, who remains steadfast.

Like an explosion, fire impacts the translucent shield and expands outward. Amazingly, the fire changes color after impact, from bright yellow to blue, and the heat emitted multiplies.

Feeling like his face is being burned, Ken lifts his hand in front of his face but continues peeking through his fingers. It’s a fantastic display he can’t stop looking at.

“Why did it turn blue?” Ken says.

The student continues the stream of yellow fire with great effort, while Master Stoddard has no visible reaction as the shield continues to deflect the attack.

“We don’t exactly know,” Lana says, “something about the barrier causes fire to turn blue when they interact.”

As the student quickly expends all his stamina to maintain the fire stream, Ken tries to think back to his school days. Before dropping out of university, he studied to become a mechanical engineer and took many science-oriented courses. If he remembers correctly, flames can be artificially colored by sprinkling different chemical compounds on the fire. However, he can’t concentrate as the intensity of the magic display takes his attention.

Minutes pass, and the student is visibly worn out. The intensity of his fire output reduces. Meanwhile, Master Stoddard stands like a statue, as if he can continue defending for hours.

“He’s nearly done; check the time,” Colby says to the other students.

Finally, the stream of fire stops, and the student collapses onto his knees.

“He’s down! Go!”

Master Stoddard lowers his hands, and his translucent shield violently dissipates. As if a compressed air container was punctured, the shield simply disappears as air quickly rushes outwards, further kicking up dust. The group runs to the downed student to check his condition while Ken slowly walks closer.

“How do you feel? Same as last time?” Colby asks the downed student.

“T-tired… So tired…” he responds.

“The attack lasted longer than the last test.”

“But was it consistent?”

“‘Twas. The attack had the same constant intensity,” Master Stoddard says.

“Then we may have discovered something interesting.”

Ken listens to their conversation but doesn’t follow. He asks, “What was different from the last test?”

“The food,” Colby responds. “The food he consumed was focused more on sweets and fruits. Anyway, we should get him to his dorm. He’s going to sleep long tonight.”

Half of the groups of students pick up the downed student and take him away. Master Stoddard, Ken, Lana, and a few other students remain to discuss.

“So, attacks last longer when you consume more sugar?” Ken asks, trying to make sense of magic.

“We find it only affects fire magic,” Lana says. “Other attacks we tested were unaffected.”

“Okay… So what about the fire? Why did it turn blue?”

“Must have been Master Stoddard’s doing, right? No one else can conjure blue flames,” a student says.

Lana and the others turn to Master Stoddard, who sighs. He holds out his palm for everyone to see, and it ignites in a ball of blue flames.

“Only masters of magic can create blue fire. It burns hotter and consumes less stamina,” Lana says.

Ken stares at Master Stoddard’s small demonstration, and a bulb flicks on within his mind. He finally remembers what he learned in chemistry lessons. The blue fire is a result of the complete combustion of flammable gas.

“How do you master that?”

“Would you like to try?” Lana says.

“Try what? Magic?”

“Yes. Here,” Lana takes out an old ring from a pocket in her mage’s robes. “The crystal is nearly depleted, but it should still work.”

Ken takes the ring and asks, “This lets me use magic?”

Lana nods, and Master Stoddard approves. Ken puts the ring on his right middle finger, avoiding any finger that may cause a weird situation.

“Now what?”

“Picture flames coming from your hand and push it out,” Master Stoddard says.

Ken holds out his hand and tries to do as instructed. His eyes focus on his palm and envisions fire bursting from it. Pretty quickly, he feels like a kid who just watched a cartoon show, trying to imitate the fictional powers the heroes displayed. A slight feeling of embarrassment swells as he recognizes the ridiculousness of what he’s doing.

He imagines a variety of things burning on his palm, but nothing happens. He imagines a piece of paper that is lit on fire, he imagines a stick of wood that catches fire, he also envisions a splash of gasoline that bursts into flames, but nothing happens. Lastly, he imagines turning on a gas stove, and suddenly his hand bursts into yellow flames.

“Woah!” Ken flinches and takes his hand back. The flames disappear, and Ken takes a step back.

“That’s it, you got it,” Master Stoddard says.

“That felt weird,” Ken holds his arm and looks at it. “It felt like something went through my arm. It was hot.”

“That’s the energy I was talking about. Feels strange, doesn’t it?”

“What the hell was that?” Ken mutters, trying to make sense of what he felt.

“Why don’t you try once more? Without flinching this time.”

Ken holds out his hand once more and prepares himself. He breathes in and then out. Then, he imagines a stove being turned on again. The knob turns, a clicking noise emits while gas ignites. Simultaneously, his hand once again bursts into flames, and he nearly pulls his hand back.

Ken watches the flames. He feels his arm burning, like something hot is surging in his veins and escaping from the pores of his palm. Every bit of his mind tells him to retract his hand, but he suppresses it.

The crystal on the ring emits a feeble glow, overpowered by the light of the flames.

As Ken gets used to the feeling of magic, he goes back to the thought of blue fire. It’s the complete combustion of fuel. But what fuel is he using? What does a stove use? Propane?

He pictures himself turning a knob to control how much gas is being used, and the flames on his hand start to lessen in intensity. The fire grows smaller, and a tint of blue becomes visible. Ken keeps concentrating, trying to control whatever fuel he’s summoning on his hand.

Right in front of Master Stoddard and the other students, a streak of blue flashes in the flames Ken is producing. The flames then briefly turn all blue before turning back to yellow, then the fire dissipates.

The flames are gone, and Ken is confused. He didn’t stop it; something else did. He takes his hand back and looks at it, scanning for any burns on his skin but finds nothing. He feels a little lightheaded but not much else. He flips his hand over and looks at the ring; the crystal glows no more.

Is it depleted?

“What did you just do?”

Ken lifts his head and notices that everyone is staring at him, dumbfounded at what he just did.

“You conjured blue flames… On your first try,” someone says.

“How did you do that?” Master Stoddard says.

Feeling like he made a mistake, Ken doesn’t know what to say. “I… imagined burning propane.”

“Propane? What in heaven is that?”

“It’s a gas. Flammable gas. I felt like I was controlling how much came out of my hand. Here’s your ring,” Ken takes off the ring and gives it to Lana. “I think it’s dead.”

“It seems, Kenneth, there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it shortly,” someone says.

From afar comes Master Hartelle along with Arierane. Up to now, he’s been studying and analyzing Ken’s revelation he brought to the telegraphy project.

“Master Hartelle. Welcome. Whom may this be?”

“Aria,” Ken says, with suspicion in his eyes.

“Sister of Kenneth.”

“Hello, dear brother,” Arierane smiles. “How did it go?”

“Fine. Why are you here?”

“We are ready to take a look at your loss of memory,” Master Hartelle says. “At last, we’ll see what else you may know. Your theory on wireless telegraphy proved to be the most interesting of concepts.”

“You’ve no memory?” Lana asks Ken.

“I have some. Just a small head injury, no big deal.”

“No big deal, you say?” Arierane says and pokes Ken’s forehead.

Ken waves off Arierane’s hand with annoyance. “Yeah, nothing.”

“If you’ve nothing else for today, shall we begin?” Master Hartelle says.

“Yeah,” Ken replies.

As Hartelle turns to leave, Lana pokes Ken’s arm and whispers, “That sister of yours is hiding something. I can tell.”

Ken furrows his eyebrows and asks, “Like what?”

“I don’t know. She’s dangerous.”

“Ken!” Arierane yells. “Hurry up! You don’t want to remain without memories, do you?”

“Good Luck,” Lana says.

.

.

“Wilfred. What news have you?”

“Lady Thorne, we’ve finally found and thoroughly investigated the ambush site and the remains of the carriage.”

“And?”

Lady Thorne sips wine from her glass, staring out a window of her estate. Her steward and head Knight stand behind her.

Alfred Hulle steps forward and presents her with a small burnt object. It’s the damaged remains of the blue rose pin Ken would wear on his coat.

“There was also the same emblem on the carriage itself. A blue rose head. We can confirm it as property of the emerging Ardai Industries we’ve heard so much lately.”

“And Ken?”

“The coach was armored, my lady. Whomever Kenneth Morgan is, he’s important.”

“How so?”

“We’ve yet to know. None of our informants in the capital can find anything about the people behind this corporation, and we’ve yet to hear from those in Efielge.”

“No worries dear, we have all the time in the world. Have we found who was behind the ambush?”

“We quickly traced it to a bounty issued at the Mercenary Guild,” the Knight explains. “The target description was vague, only containing the location and time where Sir Morgan’s coach would pass through. It didn’t even mention his name. We questioned the staff, and they led us to someone by the name of Cordell. We found him, and upon questioning, he responded violently, so we had to restrain him. He eventually squealed and told us that someone from the Senvian Trading Company paid him to set up the bounty.”

“That STC sure is bothersome,” Lady Thorne sighs. “Always meddling on other’s business. It’s no wonder why they would dislike Ardai Industries. It’s just strange they would specifically target Ken, don’t you think?”

“Yes, my lady. However, there’s more,” Alfred says. “We contacted our people monitoring the STC. They… Well, they say they found no evidence to suggest the STC ordered that bounty.”

Lady Thorne turns around, perplexed. “So, he lied?”

“Our interrogators are very good at what they do,” the Knight interrupts,” he is not lying. It seems a third party is involved and is using the STC as a mask.”

Lady Thorne swirls around her wine glass in thought. She thought she had enough power to uncover Ken’s mystery. Disappointingly, she is wrong.

“And his sister?”

“Elusive. We can’t find any information on her, and she continues to avoid our questions. We also think she may suspect what we’re trying to do.”

Long has Lady Thorne been expanding her power and reach in the Kingdom, but this is one of the first times her intelligence network fell behind. A minor frustration builds up as she realizes that she needs to become more vigilant now that more mysterious forces are coming into play.

“Thank you. That’s all. Keep me informed of what happens.” Lady Thorne takes another sip of her wine.

“What do we do with Cordell?” the Knight asks.

“Kill him, would you dear? He’s already tasted Venesian coin. We can’t have that.”

The Knight bows slightly and turns to leave the room. Alfred remains, somewhat surprised at Lady Thorne’s quick decision.

“If I may, what is your aim with Sir Morgan?”

“That blue rose will become a symbol of wealth and power, Alfred. It would be a mistake not to build trust between him and I. Though I may be a Countess, my social reach is limited as my House is one member away from extinction. If I want to uncover the truth, I’ll need allies in high places.”

.

.

Where the forest ends and the farms begin, a coach nearing the city of Scorrest travels along the road. Bearing Ardai’s blue rose, the passengers are Ringleader’s own operators and ally. Matt, Jax, and Eleanor travel within the coach in search to find and retrieve Ken, whom the Ravens claim has been ambushed by someone they believe to be a Tabellari agent. Whether or not the Raven’s information is accurate, they’ll find out.

Seeing that they are acting upon Ravenian intelligence, Eleanor also tagged along to find Ken. It also helps that her presence will allow them to interact with the local Ravens and use their safehouse.

Eleanor looks out of the window to see the farms have taken over the landscape.

“We’re nearing the city. We’re almost there.”

Matt and Jax nod in acknowledgment. For the past few days, they have spoken little. Sitting silence in a cramped coach for days has been awkward and, at times, nerve-racking for Eleanor. Despite already being allies, her knowledge of them is very little, which is a bad situation for a spy. And she can never shake off the fact that they aren’t even native to the world she knows. They are from the other side of the planet, an area unexplored and unknown.

“You guys don’t seem very nervous. Have you experienced this sort of thing before?” Eleanor asks, trying to make conversation.

“Experience what?” Jax asks.

“Your friend going missing.”

Matt shrugs his shoulders. “We’ve experienced many things.”

Eleanor feels like Matt is a tough person to get to know. Anytime she’s asked something not related to their objective, Matt always responds with a vague answer. Jax, meanwhile, is slightly more talkative but still tough sometimes.

Jax can see a bit of disappointment on Eleanor’s face and grins at her.

“Yeah, we’ve experienced this sort of thing before.”

“Really?”

“We’re former military. Of course, we have. Don’t get me wrong, we worry for Kai’s safety. But at the end of the day, we’re on a mission. Shit happens sometimes. We just gotta do what we can and not worry about what we can’t.”

Eleanor can only ponder how warfare is waged on their side of the world with the kind of weapons they use. She shivers at what they could have seen if they could shrug this off so easily.

“I notice you guys are not like the other three. Why is that?”

“What do you mean?” Jax asks. “Do you not like us?”

“No! No! It’s not that! It’s just that the other guys are more talkative.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I don’t know; I think I just like to observe rather than talk.”

“I noticed. Cayde seems like a complete opposite of you two.”

“Cayde has a big mouth,” Matt says. “At times, it helps him talk his way out of shit. Other times, it bites him in the ass.”

“I find he is often vulgar and blunt,” Eleanor says, thinking about how Cayde so casually interacts with people. “Ken is sometimes also like that, now that I think about it.”

“They are the youngest of our group. Naturally, they’ll be rowdier than us.”

“And Reed?”

“He shares more with them than us. He’s also probably the friendliest of us.”

Eleanor nods, thinking of nothing else to say.

Minutes later, a knock comes from outside the coach. It’s the coachman signaling that they reached the city.

“We’re here,” Matt says, “load up.”

Matt and Jax have brought along their MK18s just in case the situation gets hot. Eleanor stares at their weapons as they check their magazines, never having seen anything like it. As a spy, she isn’t meant to fight and has little experience in combat. Despite this, she still brought along her flintlock pistol and a dagger in case she needed them.

The three of them put on a lot of long, loose, and baggy clothes to conceal their weapons. They avoided using a cloak since it is obvious they are hiding something, so looking more homeless is a better way to go.

“Ready? Let’s go.”

The door to the coach swings open, and Matt steps out first. The entrance to the massive city is just a few hundred meters away. A line of waiting pedestrians and wagons await their turn to enter the city. The group decided to enter on foot rather than in their coach. Because the coach they brought is an Ardai model, it’ll attract too much attention. The reason they brought it is that it made the days-long trip much more bearable.

“Right then,” Eleanor says as she scans the city. “Follow me; we’ll be going through another entrance.”