Sidrick had not eaten a real meal in months, maybe even a year. He stared at the vast selection of food set in front of him. He didn’t quite believe it was his to take. It didn’t feel like he deserved a shred of steak, a leaf of the salad, or even a sip of the wine. Even the bath earlier became uncomfortable halfway through. It felt like he was a guest to Layla’s reception, a side note to the great and powerful arcane mage.

At least that’s what the worst part of him said. It was so much harder to listen to anything else.

“Your hand’s shaking,” Layla said, gently placing a hand on his back.

Sidrick set his plate aside. “I’ll eat later.”

“Sidrick—“

“I just need to think,” he said and started toward the door. He picked up Cyrina on the way out, the book now comfortably secured in its very own sling.

An elf wearing a red suit waited outside. Pomark was tall and thin, his hair a silky curtain of black. A few metal clips decorated his long, pointed ears. He had bowed when Sidrick and Layla first met him but had thankfully stopped when asked.

Honestly, Sidrick was dying to ask Pomark questions about his people. Little of Yenoriha’s elven culture was left after their cave cities were filled in by lava mages. There would be huge differences considering the Linean elves lived on the coast, but surely some similarities remained. Maybe both groups descended from travellers, not just the Lineans.

“Was the food not to your liking?” Pomark asked.

“No, I just need somewhere quiet to think,” Sidrick said, “and a book on mana currents.”

“Absolutely not,” Layla said, coming up behind him. She put her arm over his shoulder. “I will not let you sulk in your room. Come and eat. Or I will make you.”

Pomark gave Sidrick an apologetic smile. “I will deliver books on mana currents to your room. However, I believe Miss Kalstus will make it a point to cover that first.”

“Thanks,” Sidrick said as his sister motioned him back into the dining room. Layla sat him down and made his plate for him.

“I’m not a child,” Sidrick said, rolling his eyes.

Layla ignored him as she set his overly stacked plate in front of him. “What’s up?”

“I haven’t earned any of this.” He gestured to the food.

Layla looked at him like he said the sky was green. “Of course you have.”

“It took me hours to get through one layer. And if not for Hedwin, we’d be dead. Because I picked up Cyrina,” Sidrick said. He didn’t blame the book but adopting her did weigh on him. Would the Fae have noticed him if he just let the book be? What if he just ran away from the golem back then? He hadn’t needed to face it.

“I never would’ve made it through the lower layers without you either. I was useless the whole way through,” Sidrick said.

“You know that’s bullshit,” Layla said, jabbing a finger at him. “You died how many times scouting the lower floors? I would have gone crazy. Do you know how many times that saved us? And that layer you carried me through after I almost died to a stupid little bug? That was your complete mismatch. Yet you still got through it.

“Don’t compare yourself to archmages when you aren’t one, Sidrick,” Layla said. “Besides, you’ll be much more powerful than me some day. All I do is feel things out on instinct. You understand it all.”

Sidrick stayed silent, unsure how to reply.

“If you become the brains behind our House, I’m sure we’ll be more powerful than we ever were on Yenoriha,” Layla said with a smile. “We’ll do our family proud. I’m sure of it.”

Sidrick forced a smile but didn’t look her way, instead taking a bite of food.

Layla frowned. “Hey, what’s with the face?”

“I…” Sidrick avoided Layla’s gaze. “I don’t want any direct part in our House. I haven’t for a long time.”

“What?” Layla asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. “But you were mom’s aide.”

“I was much more than that,” Sidrick said bitterly.

“What do you mean?”

How could she not know? Sidrick wondered if he should tell her the actual reason House Caelum survived so long. Layla had led all the expeditions and labyrinth missions. She spent little time at home, little time familiarizing herself with matters of the House. She was a better leader than people gave her credit for but she wasn’t good at making the hard decisions. He knew that watching most of their House die before reaching Linea nearly broke her. It had taken the constant life and death crisis of the bottom layer to stop her from brooding.

Building a noble House took more than a few morally questionable decisions—decisions Layla wouldn’t make.

Maybe their mother thought he would fill in that gap. If so, she was a much worse judge of character than he thought.

He stood and picked up his plate. “Thank you for what you said earlier. I’ll try to be better… For now though, I want to eat alone.” He went to the door and stopped. “I will help you however I can. I just won’t manage the House or do its dirty work.”

Layla let him leave this time.

“Is there a window? Some place to look out at the city?” Sidrick asked Pomark.

“Of course,” Pomark said with a smile.

Sidrick savored every bite of his meal as they walked through the spacious halls. Most of Centralis, from what he’d seen, was made from white stone and marble, then accented with copper. Carvings were tastefully scattered around the halls, reminding Sidrick of public murals. And this was just their little private section. He was looking forward to seeing the rest of the city.

They soon came to a large balcony.

Sidrick stopped in the hall before it, just far enough to peak at the open sky but nothing else. “I won’t be spotted by spies, right?”

“The possibility always exists. However, even Ede Alonse cannot scry through the protections once active,” Pomark said. “Unless the Westwalker himself is trying to find you, I believe you’re safe.”

“Would he be trying to find me?” Sidrick asked, smiling awkwardly.

Pomark chuckled. “The Westwalker cares very little about what lies beyond his territory.”

“I see. I would love to hear more about your people, by the way,” Sidrick said. "If that's okay."

“Of course,” Pomark said, his smile broadening. “After you’re allowed to leave this place, we can meet and discuss. I’ll have one of my friends cook a few elven dishes.”

“That would be wonderful,” Sidrick said. The more he thought about it, the more interested he was in learning about nonhumans. They were his childhood stories come to life. The world felt bigger, full of far more possibilities.

He walked out onto the balcony and took a deep breath.

Centralis was a small city, its tall white buildings inlaid with copper accents and ocean blue crystal. The setting sun bloomed across the vast lake it overlooked. Sidrick stood within its central building, carved into the side of a massive cliff. Gargantuan statues—an armored warrior and a mage in traditional robes—loomed opposite each other on the cliffs. Each held a giant pot, water pouring from each one to create rivers that ran through the city.

“Of all of Linea’s cities, I have found only the Havashi capital and my own home to be more beautiful,” Pomark said, joining Sidrick to take in the view.

“It’s incredible,” Sidrick said. The lack of massive walls added more than a few points. He assumed Ede Alonse was more than enough protection. Or there were some insane wards creating a barrier he couldn’t see. He idly wondered how far along the magical weapons of Linea were. Nothing close to Yenoriha, he hoped.

Pomark smiled. “I will leave you to your thoughts.”

Sidrick thanked the elf as he left.

He ate dinner while taking in the view of his new home. After a while, he placed Cyrina on the balcony’s thick stone rails. He wondered if she could somehow see the world without eyes.

“We’re finally out,” Sidrick whispered, setting his plate aside. He leaned on the rails. He had apologized several times but she still wouldn’t answer. The soul diagnostic didn’t tell him anything special either.

“At least let me know if you’re okay,” Sidrick said, tapping her cover.

Something brushed against his mind.

Okay

Cyrina responded with a jumble of feelings and intentions to form the meaning of the word. Sidrick became even more worried.

Heal

Take

Time

Sidrick felt Cyrina grow dimmer with each word until her presence was a whisper. He grit his teeth.

“I’ll find a way to help you,” Sidrick said. “I promise.”

Hedwin said that their soul mage was always out on research trips. Sidrick already wanted to travel. Even better if he could do it while apprenticed to a skilled mage.

He thought back to Layla. Maybe Yenoriha’s noble lifestyle didn’t need to exist on Linea. If so, she would rebuild their House into something far better, he was sure of it. As long as he stayed away, it would flourish. So many of their mother’s cruel decisions made sense to him. Even their father’s, as much as he hated the man. Sidrick was afraid that he’d become the same as them, devoted to a nebulous greater good while forgetting all the smaller scale kindness.

Their methods had worked too. Sidrick and Layla’s survival was proof.

Sidrick sighed.

Better to stay a simple mage.

He scratched the shadow of his growing beard. The Anchor had saved his template right before they performed the ethereal jump. His hair was also a bit long and shaggy. Sidrick looked down at his clothes. He appreciated Hedwin providing spares, he really did, but he needed something less tight.

Sidrick wondered if Ede Alonse had a secret barber or tailor.

#

Pomark was both and more.

“It is tradition for elves to devote themselves to one field for a century at a time,” Pomark said as he happily cut through Sidrick’s hair. “I chose painting for my first. I’m studying hospitality now. Ah, and before you ask, I’m 127.”

“You look 30.”

“We age very slowly after reaching our prime,” Pomark said with a chuckle. “Your world really had no elves?”

“Not that I knew of,” Sidrick said. “So why do elves keep changing their career?”

“How would you stay invested in life without variety? There are only so many forms of entertainment. Yet discovering and mastering a new subject never gets old. Even a broad and humble field like hospitality can bring new joys. For instance, had I chosen cooking, I would likely have never met you, Layla, or the other travelers I now call friends,” Pomark said. “It also keeps my people humble. A new beginning is the most effective teacher.”

“There have to be elves that don’t follow that tradition,” Sidrick said. “Nice as it sounds, I can’t imagine everyone being happy to drop everything.”

“Of course, many of us still keep tabs on their old professions. They often take short jobs to not completely lose their skills. Others only move on from their field when they feel ready,” Pomark said as he finished trimming Sidrick’s hair and started the finishing touches. “We are more concerned with the spirit of the tradition than the specifics.”

A second Pomark walked in front of Sidrick with a mirror.

“How do you like your haircut?” the original Pomark asked. His hair was longer than he usually wore it but somehow looked better.

“...It’s the best I’ve looked in years,” Sidrick said, unable to stop glancing at Pomark’s clone.

He chuckled. “Apologies, but seeing someone’s reaction to my simulacrum is always fun. It has caused a magical outburst a few times, however.”

Sidrick shrugged off his initial shock. Another “impossible” spell. “How did you make it?”

“Flesh, illusion, and mind magic. It is a spell that took me decades to master,” Pomark said proudly. “You see, painting required me to visit a number of dangerous locales. I needed a scout that I would not feel guilt for.”

“If I die, all my memories go to the original,” the simulacrum said. “We used to snapshot the nicest memory with mind magic and paint it.”

“Self portraits also became much easier to do,” Pomark said.

“And now I can serve multiple people at once,” the simulacrum said.

Sidrick shifted in his chair. “Do you think a soul mage could make a simulacrum?”

“With a stable mind, unifying purpose, and years of study, yes,” Pomark said with a laugh. “The spell isn’t exactly secret. It only has a reputation for killing its caster or driving them mad.”

“...I’ll look into it after mastering my basics.”

“Smart man,” the simulacrum said.