James awoke from his memories. The faint feeling of nostalgia plagued his mind. They weren’t bad memories, they just… were. A combination of time and maturity had smoothed there ragged edges. They reminded him of simpler times. Sad times, happy times, lost times; the nostalgia was a combination of each. Time; he never felt he had enough of it.

Cosmo continued to ping James telepathically, eager to depart. The train was coming to a halt.

“Now arriving at, Flinders Street Station. Please depart for…”

James opened his eyes to the carriage around him. People were dressed in casual weekend clothes, some in the colours of a favourite sporting team, and some like James wore suits. It was early-afternoon on a Saturday and a myriad of events would be occurring in this vibrant city. James chuckled to himself, catching a few confused glares from strangers.

It’s just like when I first got to London. Surrounded by a million different lives, a million different possibilities; except, I’m trapped on a singular path.

The carriage door of the Sandringham line train opened to the underside of Flinders Street Station. A large transmuted concrete slap framing the other end of the platform’s walkway, which James hopped off the train to land on. He followed the bustling commuters towards the end of the walkway, climbing stone steps, framed by graffitied walls of glass, towards the light of the station proper.

James emerged from the underground portion of the station to a hub of human traffic. Men, women, children, and the like all striding with purpose, waiting for friends, simply doing something at the heart of this station. The thrum of mana-cores sat in the background, growing louder with each train that passed through the station. Headlines ran across banners on the walls. Different shop stalls lined the inside of the station, serving barbecued meats and baked sweets; even more interesting were the stalls that framed the outside of the station, possessing dual access points inside and outside of Flinders Street. James marched along with the crowd, soaking in the diverse atmosphere.

The hustle and bustle of the station consumed James. Jostled through the crowd towards the light; openings to Melbourne’s CBD. The cries of kids and parents in the background brought a smile to his face. He watched, while making his way to an exit gate, as a young couple was reunited; their passionate embrace evolving into a very private scene in too public a place. He adverted his gaze with the crowd.

Loud ringing emanated from the other side of the exit gate James walked towards, the thrum of mana a continuous white noises even outside of the station. The ringing came from the trams that lined much of inner city Melbourne. A wonderful innovation, combining mass transit of the populace with interconnected roadways, trams were how the majority of Melbournians traversed the city; cars were far too expensive and restrictive.

James fed the gate an LDM and was given passage to the CBD. Federation Square, a place built on the cusp of the Eastern-Colonies agreement to work as one for the betterment of this fledgling nation. The square possessed buildings of culture and art, trams leading towards universities and historic sites. It was the metaphorical heart of Melbourne; Flinders Street Station and Federation Square. Yet, across the Yarra river was the nervous centre, or brain, of this Frontier city: the Eureka Tower.

James ambled out along Swanson Street, walking to the bridge that divided the heart and mind of Melbourne. Great slabs of concrete decorated the walkway, made to protect citizens from any nefarious movement of traffic, or malevolent beings rising from the Yarra. The slabs were patrolled by police and Militants, an unusual sight for James. When he had last lived here there was no need for such simple protections or show of fear at what lurked at the base of the Yarra. However, the rise in mermen offensives and the recent escalation in tension had left its mark on the serene city.

Melbourne glistened in the warm afternoon, glass structures refracting radiant light evoking an ethereal glow. The shielding stations could be seen on the horizon, if one looked down towards Port Philip bay to the south. The shield blended with the sky today, as the slippage of miasma was low this time of year.

James was enraptured by his home. It felt older, and more matured then when he had left ten-years prior; but it was the maturity of a teenager compared to the darkness of London and other, older, bastions of humanity.

He’d crossed the bridge, having received a few shoves while distracted by the skyline. He stood on Southbank, closer to the Melbourne Arts Centre and an array of stores. The Arts Centre had been a favourite den of young-James, its tall top-hat espouse spire that sat atop the bright building appeared to pierce the sky. Within was red-velvet furnishings, and a labyrinth that led to theatres of wonder, and stages of awe. James still dreamed of hosting a performance there, but for now he knew to withhold fickle fantasies from consuming his focus. He had been summoned to the Tower.

James made haste along the Southbank Wharf, noting how his favourite burger joint had survived the loss of his patronage. Bright red with white and black text scrawled across its walls, the joint looked as endearing as ever to James. The usage of his Dust-magic always famished him, and so Mana-Grill’d had always been his favourite place to chow down after school. Especially when he received a full-scholarship after his awakening; James had been very proud of his burger fund.

Maybe Yilin will be inclined towards a nostalgic meal. Ah, the memories.

James continue along the bank. The shops became more dispersed, and the faint radiation of ley-line tapped could be felt as James neared his destination. Eureka Tower.

Eureka was a sharp tower, built with sharp-angles and adorned with an assortment of precious magical material near its top. The angled quadrilateral frame was built with sturdy glass, azure in the noon sun. James remembered learning about it’s construction; the windows would consolidate and become a dark navy, once attacked. The Tower in battle resembled Bluestone Hall, muted colours of absorption material to abrogate the impact of all elemental attacks.

The top of the Tower was the true differential of Melbourne’s Tower from its Sydney and Brisbane counter-parts. James understood that Melbourne’s wealth came down to both location, and raw mana-reserves. However, Victoria also possesses a myriad of other valuable magical minerals and metals that culminated in the Rush of 1851.

Despite the honourable indigenous people’s warnings, and the deadly nature of Bush, many mages pushed for expeditions and mines to be built. At first it was highly prosperous, devastating the landscape for a near exponential return in minerals and mana-crystals. Yet, the land will always have its way in the end. Mines caved in, the indigenous population fought for the land, Saurians raided the encampments, it was a massacre.

From all the suffering and torture a deal was finally struck. It was only after a rebellion from the underpaid, and fed, miners and their families that it finally occurred; but nonetheless a deal was made. The mines became more regulated, and the workers offered greater protection. The aboriginal people were provided succour for a time, being allocated a reserve to flourish in (it was accepted under great duress sadly). And, with the young Victorian populace appeased, the Saurian tribes were combatted with earnest. It was the first unification of the southern populace, all thanks to rebellion and disaster.

Hence, the Tower commemorates those memories of harder times. The Eureka Rebellion, now honoured with a bastion of humanity; a Tower fitted with the fruits of past men and women’s labours. Gold and electrum, bluestone and quartz, amethyst and opal, framing the top of the tower with an asymmetrical line of bloody-ruby inlaid to commemorate those who fell. It was a radiant Tower, befitting multifarious Melbourne.

James stood below the decorated Tower. He stole a deep breath from the humid air before entering it.

James felt a wave of diagnostic magic wash over him as he entered the Eureka Tower. Cosmo hid within the satchel, but James could feel the mana affect his friend nonetheless.

It’ll be right Cosmo. Now, where to find Yilin.

The interior of the Tower was circular, a distortion of space from the hard and rigid outside. Glass framed walkways decorated the interior of the Tower. Some led to upper floors, others appeared to vanish into hidden alcoves of space. However, what unified the interior was the large Australian crest that depicted a different floor. If James remembered correctly there was an estimated ninety-one floors to this skyscraper; whether due to spatial magic or sound architecture James wasn’t sure. Most likely a mix of both, was his overall consensus.

The ground floor was a large open space with a desk facing the entrance. The desk was circular, residing in the centre of the Tower, with the centre of it being a pillar of mana; possibly the main mana-core that taps into the surrounding ley-lines.

The reception desk held multiple mages, most plugged into diagnostic magic and recording data on mana-slates. Around the floor there were couches and waiting areas for guests and those seeking an appointment. What caught James’ eye was the regularly spaced alcoves on the borders of the floor, each held a minute magic circle. James watched as one flashed, a mage solidifying in the light and moving to the back of the desk to converse with a receptionist.

We are so close to Tier 1, so close. And yet, for how great this Tower is, we struggle every day. If only we could proliferate this technology with the public.

James moved past the foyer and headed for an available receptionist. The frustration of witnessing magical marvels was that he knew it was highly concentrated to this building, and a few outposts alone. He wished to change that fact, but he was uncertain how.

At the desk he encountered a familiar face. A young woman with brunette hair and dark eyes, which looked at him bemused.

“G’afternoon Melisa. I’m here to see Yilin.” James said. Melisa gave a curt smile, and held up a finger signalling for a moment. James nodded, tapping his spell book at the signal. Melisa tended to her work, Divination magic glistened as she compiled and edited her work. Every now and again she’d fire a document towards a tube behind her; embers trailing the thrown document. Each tube she threw a document to sucked the document up in a flash of light.

“I’ve let him know you’re here. ” Melisa said. James thanked her, trying to ease his finger away from his spell book.

Why’d she send three different messages? Hmmm…

“Will that be all, sir?” Melisa inquired. There was a hint of never in her voice, a faint warble. Her uniform was immaculate, no signs of wear or age in them. He hair was tied up in a pony-tail, and her eyes had flashed scarlet when she’d sent the messages off. James thought her just another young sorceress, working hard to elevate herself in the Tower. Maybe he had been too kind in that simple assessment. He outlined a rune on the cover of his spell book.

“Well I was wondering how long you’ve been at the Tower, Officer Melisa? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“A few months now.” She replied. Her eye twitched at the thought.

“And how have you found it? I thought I’d end up here myself when I was younger.” But then again, I thought I’d be nothing more than an earth transmuter at best.

Melisa missed his cynical thoughts, only perceiving the neutral demeanour of a Dust-mage. “It has been…” She didn’t appear sure of herself, taking note of her occupied colleagues. “Laborious, sir. We never appear to have enough staff, or hours in the day; I didn’t sign up for this. Its just that the factionists…” A hint of anger tinged her voice. Yet, she held her tongue; more stable than other Fire-mages James knew.

“I see.” He said with understanding. “Well, I hope you find what you are looking for in time. I’m sure something will open up, eventually.”

“Eventually.” She echoed. James bid her well and left. The compulsion rune faded as he took a seat in the foyer. He didn’t have to wait long.

“James!” Yilin called. He stood beside an alcove, hunched slightly and with his glasses askew. James jogged over, satchel knocking against his hips. Cosmo remained silent.

He must be conserving strength within the Tower; too much magical dissonance.

“Just step here, I’ve booked us the cognisance chamber.” Yilin told James.

“Hmm. Okay.” James said. This was a peculiar step in renewing his Australian Passport, but he trusted his friend.

They stepped onto the magic circle. A brief flash of magic and the pair of old friends found themselves in a bright chamber. There was a operations desk to the right, which Yilin moved towards.

“Wait.” James commanded. Yilin stopped and peered at him. Faint traces of sweat ran down his forehead. James held up a finger to his lips.

He unholstered his spell book, and signing the runes, cast an enchantment and abjuration spell over the room. The faint sound of a cord snapping rang out, an Yilin appeared to straighten.

“Is that better?” James asked. Yilin looked sheepish.

“Yeah. Thank mate.” He turned back to the operation desk, not meeting James’ eye.

“So? You going to tell me what’s happening? No one can watch us now. I didn’t take you for a factionist, Danny.” The use of his old name stung Yilin. He passed a pale hand through his hair, it was damp from sweat.

“No, I’m not. But, they are very hard people to say no too.” Yilin unbuttoned his uniform, and lifted up his shirt. A dark purple bruise almost ten centimetres in diameter was visible on his side.

“By the Towers! Yilin what happened?” James reached in his satchel and pulled out a healing injector. Yilin accepted the health potion, thankful of his friend’s generosity.

“The Militants did not enjoy having one of their own fall asleep on the job. His squad complained to their captain, and the captain directed the complaint to me.” Yilin grimaced, recalling the three men who cornered him at his desk. James stood beside him, cold.

“Write me their names.” He asked. Yilin observed his friend. He was still lean and a fraction of an inch off being six-feet tall, and yet his cool countenance made him feel dangerous. Yilin stared at his eyes, seeing only specks of hazel floating in his green-irises. No Dust-mana was visible.

Yilin wrote down the officers names, marking the one would fallen asleep due to James’ Enchantment. “Thank you.” James said. Yilin watched him, his glasses still askew.

“I know you won’t, but for my sake; don’t do anything stupid Scanlan. The captain of that squad isn’t known for pulling his punches. No need for an Illusionist to get himself injured in a direct scrap, okay?” James nodded, but cocked hi head at Yilin’s last sentence.

“Only an Illusionist am I?” He raised an eyebrow at his old friend. “Activate the chamber.”

Yilin pressed a few buttons on the desk and the core of the chamber shifted. James walked into the centre of it.

The chamber was muted in colour, with faint wisps of mana streaking around the edges of the display. However, once James entered the entire chamber became illuminated by his Astral Body.

The Astral Body was laid over his mana-conduits, trickling Dust running across the Body like it would an hourglass. Yet, this wasn’t the greyed dust a person would see in bright light, but a cosmic dust. Each particle was a different colour, a different hue, coursing across this Astral Body in unrecognisable patterns. The Dust would disperse and rejoin, intertwined and yet separate from this form. It was a dichotomy, brilliant prismatic light emitted from a substance of decay. Yilin was hypnotised by the sight.

Within the shifting nebula that was James Scanlan, three Sigils vibrated with power. The foremost was the School of Illusion, the most powerful of the three; it formed distortions and shapes with the Dust, never set. Secondly there was the School of Enchantment; a bright beacon within the turbulent nebula, it emitted the prismatic effect. Finally a third Sigil, the School of Abjuration; it was the faintest of the three, a construct imposed on the Dust rather than naturally born from it. The Abjuration Sigil stole the prismatic light from the Dust, returning the motes to the expected grey.

The three Sigils faded, as James felt the diagnostic magic search the rest of his Astral Body. James, silently, invoked a ward disguising his connection to Cosmo and his spell book.

Best to keep some cards up my sleeve. I think that is enough for the Factions to get a read on me.

After the operation desk alerted Yilin that the diagnostics had been completed, he shut down the chamber. James pondered how many HDMs the Factions had wasted on gathering information about himself, he snickered at the thought.

“The data will just be a moment. It’s coming out-HOLY HELLS WHAT!?” Yilin bellowed.

James moved to see the results, enjoying his friends reaction of disbelief.

James Scanlan:

Illusion: 6.1

Enchantment: 5.6

Abjuration: 3.0

Affinity (Dust): 7.3

VMI: 79

“Hmm. Yeah that’s about right.” James said. Yilin collapsed on the desk. He was muttering to himself, and finally righted his glasses as he did so.

“Scanlan you are, you’re… Fuck, you could be a Magister!” Yilin exclaimed. James nodded to his friends astute observation. “But what I don’t understand, is how is your VMI so abysmally low?”

“Yilin.” James spoke slowly, calming his agitated friend. For a Water mage he wasn’t very flexible with anomalous information. “I have had an amazing Mentor, achieved Magus as a Frontier mage, fluked out with an insane elemental affinity, and have been blessed with the intelligence and training to manage the negative effects of it effectively. I have lucked out in so many ways, but there is one thing I cannot escape; I come from a family of NoMs.” The word left a bad taste in James’ mouth as he spat it out. “There is a reason I carry this spell book, Yilin.” He patted his tome fondly.

“I see.” Yilin said. His eyes kept drifting towards the tome but he willed himself to look at his friend’s face instead. All people have secrets, talents and weaknesses, Yilin remained respectful of James' - for he had plenty of his own.

“Okay, well I’m sorry to say this but I have to give the Militants this info Scanlan. I can fudge it a little but most of those idiots can still check the chamber’s data log.” Yilin dropped his head in shame.

“Hey man, that’s okay.” James said, holding his friends shoulder. “Also, don’t forget to add Magus to the information, and if anything fudge the VMI so it’s lower. People would find this stuff out eventually, it’s not an issue for me.” Yilin stepped back bewildered.

“What do you mean? Most of the neophytes and acolytes would dream of knowing the power levels of Magus’ and the like. If anything you are going to attract more interest, and that’s despite your sister and her friends being monitored as agitators.” James recoiled.

I know we aren’t meant to let others know this stuff. But that is exactly me point. I need access, and this trap, or bait, is my best bet at attracting the right kind of opportunities. The wrong kind as well but like Madam Ouvrier said - I ain’t a politician.

The thrum of mana within the chamber was dissipating while James assessed his options. The Private Sanctum ward he had cast will break soon, they needed a plan.

“Yilin. Trust me. Give this to the Militants,and the Grey Faction equivalent. It should balance out any of them sharking me, as they’ll keep themselves accountable. Unless you have a better idea?” Yilin was deep in thought. He reviewed James’ data, and adjusted the VMI value to be even lower. He turned to his old friend, an idea forming in his head.

“Okay, so I’ll do as you say - but there is a third option to pursue.”

“I’m listening.”

“Do you remember old Magus Doherty?”