Greetings,

You will not know me, but I know you very well. I have studied your growth from afar, watching as you grow into the legend that you were always destined to be. I feel confident that you are ready for your next great test. Please find me at my home, and I will give you your next great lesson.

Yours in fellowship,

The Teacher.

Samuel glanced down at the parchment in a daze, letting the words drift over him. They seeped into his mind and washed around, then flowed back out, leaving one simple thought behind. He knew the person who had left this letter for him. Rather, he knew of them. There were several facts to consider in the situation, and they all pointed to the same answer. First, the letter was here, and he hadn’t detected the person who had put it in. He knew that nobody he knew had placed it, for there was only one person’s energy traces on it. He didn’t recognize them, so they were new.

Second, the way the person had written their message was peculiar. It was so rare that Samuel had only heard that cadence and manner of speaking in two other people; Shigeru and Grimr. Third and final, the letter was signed with not a name, but a title. The Teacher. Shigeru and Grimr both claimed to have been taught by the same mortal man at some point in their lives. The Teacher. It had to be this mysterious master he’d heard about. Raveonic.

“Who is it from?” Ryllae’s voice broke into his thoughts, and her light hand on his arm forced him to look up from the letter and acknowledge her presence. “The Teacher. Is that?”

“Yes,” Samuel confirmed, positive that they agreed. “It seems that I’ve finally piqued Raveonic’s interest.”

“That’s wonderful!” Ryllae exclaimed. She was one of the few who knew who Raveonic was, and of course, treated this as a vaulted achievement. For his own, Samuel was less excited. He wasn’t opposed to learning something new, of course, as new knowledge was one of his biggest motivations. No, it was the manner in which Raveonic taught his pupils. Shigeru had been kept busy for nearly two decades as his student Samuel simply didn’t have that much free time to commit. Still, it was worth his time to meet Raveonic in person, at the very least. Then, if he could learn something with only a month or two of effort, he’d accept. Otherwise, he had to go back to Milagre and resume his life.

“I’ll have to go visit him as soon as I’m able to,” Samuel said. His exhaustion had returned in force, and he staggered slightly on his feet, only saved from toppling over by Ryllae’s firm grip. “But right now I need a good night’s sleep.”

Ryllae steered him to his quarters and pushed him down onto his comfortable bed with a stern look. He was too tired even to change out of his battle-stained robe and fell asleep at once. It was a heavy sleep, where the first half is spent in black nothingness. His enhanced body worked to heal away the damage it had taken. Only in the wee hours of the night, after the sun had disappeared, was he rested enough. His mind came to life, and he was able to dream.

He could tell before he opened his eyes that he was in Arcana’s mindspace. This was acceptable to him, as there were a few questions he needed answered. It had been nearly four months since their last true communion if he didn’t count the plea for a new spell right before battle. He lifted his head to find himself staring directly into Isip’s plain brown eyes, and pulled himself back slightly, a little alarmed at how close the other Ancient was.

“I am glad to see that you were successful,” The god said at once. “It would have been very troubling if you were to perish in that fight.”

“Well, I’m harder to kill than most,” Samuel replied, adjusting his dark blue robe slightly to free his arms more. “All according to your plan, of course.”

“Of course,” Isip echoed, a pleased smile breaking out across his face. “You are exactly what I’d planned you would be, and so much more. You have exceeded every expectation I could possibly set for you.”

Samuel shifted a little awkwardly, uncomfortable at the fulsome praise. “I still have a lot to learn. I’m nowhere near done.”

“Yes, this is true,” Isip agreed. “Which is the purpose of this meeting, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Samuel blurted out, his head snapping to look his deity fully in the face. He’d never heard Isip sounding so uncertain about anything in his life. He was the God of Knowledge, and so had a far greater understanding of the world and everything in it than most. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“As you know, you were lost to the world one hundred and four years ago.”

Samuel nodded in agreement and understanding. Isip continued. “Well, not even I know for certain where you were during this long period. For just under a century, you were lost to my sight.”

“You couldn’t see me wherever I was?” Samuel asked incredulously. “But I thought you could see every nook and cranny of the world!”

“I can,” Isip inclined his head modestly. “This means that you were out of the world. At least, out of the part of it that I know.”

“The Ethereal Plane,” Samuel said. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Why does this topic keep coming up recently? I swear this is the twelfth time that it’s been mentioned.”

Isip smiled patiently at him. “I mention it because it is prevalent to what I have to share with you today. As you know, I have a good glimpse of your life, both past, and future.”

“Let me guess,” Samuel interrupted. “Very soon, you lose sight of me again.”

Isip made no comment, but his expression dimmed slightly, and Samuel knew he’d guessed correctly. If he weren’t floating freely in the air, this was the point at which he’d start pacing. “So sometime soon, though I’m sure you can’t see exactly when I will disappear from your vision. Previous experience suggests that this means I will enter the Ethereal Plane again.”

“That is how I see it,” Isip said. “But I cannot speak with any certainty on that place, as I have never seen it. There is one who has entered and returned unscathed, however.”

“Knarlick,” Samuel guessed, sure that was who Arcana meant. “Do you know how he was able to accomplish that?”

Isip shook his head sadly. “I do not know the circumstances that led to him entering, for I was inactive most during that time. But when I returned, I saw that he had been touched by a new type of being.”

“A new type of being,” Samuel said pensively. “So there is a person, or perhaps a group of people in there that he interacted with.”

Isip was nodding in agreement, and Samuel pursued the thought further. There was next to nothing known about the Ethereal Plane. The few mages who had entered and returned with their minds intact often lost all memory of the experience. Some, Samuel included, had been able to recover shreds of recollection, mere glimpses of what seemed like chaotic wind rushing around them, throwing their senses off and leaving them to wander aimlessly through the storm until they returned.

“Where could he have found someone to contend with?” Samuel asked, speaking more to hear the thought aloud than for any other reason. “Not to mention, how could he have learned enough from the Ethereal Plane to create his unique magic? He couldn’t have had time, surely. Do you think he remembers his time away from the world?”

“I cannot see into his mind like I can yours or others,” Isip admitted sadly, “So I cannot be certain. But, given his newfound ability, I think it is very likely. That degree of creativity and the sheer speed at which he mastered the new magic suggests that he remembers it all.”

“I wonder if there is a way for me to crack into the Ethereal Plane on purpose,” Samuel muttered, almost inaudibly. “If I could control my entrance and exit, then I could feasibly maintain an anchor of sorts to the material plane.”

Isip could only shrug. “As I know it, there stands no magic that could do what you want. I’m sure you can figure it out, given enough time. I just wanted to deliver the warning.”

Samuel let out a short laugh. “Always short and to the point, you are. Well, thank you for the warning. If you learn any more about my impending disappearance, please let me know. In the meantime, I’ll return to my life. I have to find Raveonic.”

“You will find him a very interesting person,” Isip said, perking up at the mention of the old master. “He is quite possibly my favorite among the mortal folk. A very keen mind, and a stalwart soul.”

“Not to mention a legend,” Samuel added, with a sigh. “I knew I’d have to meet him eventually, and I want to, of course, but the timing could be a little more convenient.”

He blinked and found himself staring up at the dark wood panels that made up the ceiling of his quarters. At once, his wards alerted him to the presence of a stranger. They were just outside his front door, and his steward, Michael, was speaking with them. He registered the calm demeanor of both, though the stranger was showing some signs of mild exhaustion. That more than likely indicated a messenger, he thought. They were always at least a little tired after their long days of work.

Samuel searched his estate for some sign of Ryllae, but of course, she was gone. She’d likely be staying within the palace proper, as an official ambassador of a foreign nation. Either that or one of the many guest estates that were located in the Royal District. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed and onto his feet. He reeked of smoke and dried blood, and his muscles were practically screaming as he forced them to stretch. He’d be sore for a week or so, he estimated. He shrugged. It came with the course.

Before walking to his washroom to clean up, he decided to venture down to the parlor to see what the stranger had been by about. Michael had already dismissed them and was polishing a painting when Samuel came down the stairs. He smiled widely as he noticed his lord approaching, and dipped into a shallow bow. Unlike the first steward who had serviced Samuel’s estate, Michael had been more than accepting of Samuel’s dislike of formality and kept his manner less stiff. He still produced the full act in public, but when in the house, he was much more casual, which Samuel was grateful for.

“Good morning, Samuel,” Michael said cheerily. “I hope the messenger’s arrival didn’t wake you too early.”

“I was going to wake up anyway,” Samuel said with a dismissive wave. “Who is the message from?”

“The King,” Michael said predictably. “They request your presence as soon as possible. I have already informed the messenger that you are resting after your mission, and will join them after you have washed and eaten.”

Samuel nodded his gratitude, glad, not for the first time, that he’d chosen Michael as his steward out of all the other possible staff when he’d re-established his estate. “Good. Speaking of washing up, I’ll do that now.”

Michael dipped his head once more. “I will have some of Mandra’s coffee waiting for you, sir.”

Half an hour later, Samuel was feeling slightly parboiled from the hot water but was also revitalized. Some of the ache in his muscles and joints had faded, and he could move much more easily. He threw away the robe he’d been wearing, knowing that it would likely be destroyed, and pulled on a fresh set of clothing. Then he ventured down to the dining room, where Michael was waiting with the promised cup of coffee, in addition to a plate of roast chicken and potatoes. Samuel devoured the food quickly, chugged three cups of scalding coffee, and rose from his chair.

“I’ll go and meet with the King now,” he proclaimed. “Did Ryllae say where she was going?”

“Chancellor Inaro is within the palace proper, sir,” Michael said crisply. “She seemed to foresee your appointment, and will likely meet you there.”

“Excellent,” Samuel said, a slight smile on his face. Hopefully, if his meeting with the King was short, he could enjoy a peaceful few hours in her company. It was his day off, after all. “Turn away any messages unless they come from the Crown.”

“Of course, sir. Enjoy your evening out.”

Evening… Samuel glanced up at the sky as he exited his house, noting the low angle that the sun currently held in the sky. About the twenty-second hour, he estimated. At best, that meant he had slept through the night and most of the next day. At worst, he’d been down for two to three days. But in passing a crier’s stand, he learned that it was only the next day, which meant he hadn’t lost much time in his rest. Not much time left in the day though, he remarked regrettably.

It was a short trek from his estate to the palace, as he’d been given one of the larger houses two years ago. The Rainhalls, of course, had protested vehemently at the gift, as they had his reinstatement as a noble. Their grudge against him ran deep, though they could do nothing against him publically. He knew the day would come when they had to meet head-to-head eventually, but that was still a ways off. He planned to rout them completely, even if it was at their own game.

The Royal Guard, denoted by their light blue and gold tabards over chain, were present at the doors to the palace as usual. They saluted stiffly as Samuel passed them, giving their standard greeting to a visiting noble. An attendant was with him the moment he entered the huge building, walking silently by his side, ready for any orders or requests he might have. He had none, as usual, but the woman continued to shadow him closely, up until he reached the inner area, where the King’s offices were located. A short trip up a grand spiral staircase, and he came to stop before a handsome oak door. He knocked firmly.

“Enter,” That voice belonged to Aren Gorteau, the King’s younger brother. Samuel pushed the heavy door open with a single hand and stepped over the threshold. In the room were the King, Aren, General Rainhall, and Rainhall’s second son, who held some important role in the military of Gorteau. Samuel ignored the latter two and addressed the Gorteaus directly.

“You wished to speak with me, your Majesty.” He phrased it as a statement, rather than a question. The King looked fairly annoyed about something, and Samuel immediately assumed that he was about to be reprimanded for destroying Gorteau. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was resting from the battle when your messenger reached my estate.”

King Gorteau waved one hand irritably, and Samuel’s sense of unease grew. How bad was the consequence going to be? But then he registered the amused smile on Aren’s face, which reassured him a bit. Aren was an honest man, and wouldn’t derive any sort of pleasure from punishing his friend and colleague. So Samuel relaxed his stance, though he remained at attention, waiting for the King to speak.

“Master Bragg,” Johnathan Gorteau said, his nasally voice unusually tired. “Excellent work in the battle to retake Jyrok. You have far exceeded my expectations. The Mitene Union will learn from this, and be much more cautious in challenging us.”

Samuel blinked slowly. “You do know, I am sure, that I destroyed Jyrok, your Majesty?”

Now came his answer. Judging by the King’s reaction, he hadn’t been made aware of that fact at all. Even Aren looked stunned. Samuel frowned at their expressions. “Was… Was that not communicated by whoever gave you the report?”

The King was still too stunned to speak, but Aren stepped forward, his demeanor calm at once. “No. That was not shared with us. We were only told by Edmund Thunderborn that you were an exemplary commander and that your leadership played a pivotal role in the routing of our enemy.”

“Y-” The King tried to speak but failed to get the words out. Instead, General Rainhall spoke up, fury dripping from his every word. “You destroyed the fortress? Do you have any idea how long that fort has stood! How dare you destroy something that my family has owned for centuries! I demand that you pay for repairs!”

Samuel, more than a little annoyed already, let his filter slip for a moment as he turned to regard the old man. “You cannot repair the fortress. It is gone.”

Shocked silence followed his statement for nearly a minute before Aren haltingly asked. “Gone? You mean there is no fortress?”

“Not at all,” Samuel said firmly. “I destroyed it, along with the ground that it rested on. The town is safe, and no innocents were harmed by my attack. But Jyrok does not exist. It is a pile of rubble in a crater.”

Seemingly against his will, Aren let out a short bark of laughter. It was more nervous than truly amused, and he weakly lowered himself into the chair. The King’s face showed nothing but shocked disbelief, and Samuel felt it wise to wait for some reply. If he pushed the matter too far, it could have heavy consequences for him. He folded his hands in front of him, glancing between the two Royal brothers. Whatever punishment came, he would accept it willingly. But he would not apologize.