Chapter 13

Arthur POV

The first shadows of the day were spreading over the streets like a cloak when Arthur set foot on Green Man Street. He took in a deep breath of fresh air. As his lungs filled in with sweet oxygen, the lethargy he felt in his limbs receded, causing his steps to become smoother. His trudge became a march, then his march became a saunter as he passed under the canopy of the many trees that lined the road. The ambiance of the natural world, even a part as heavily regulated as this, never failed to lift his mood and make his burdens feel small.

Soon enough, he had arrived at his destination. The Green Man, the tavern that gave name to the street, was completely at odds with what one would expect from a tavern. The three story log cabin was made from a golden brown wood that glistened in the fading light. Windows made from clear glass were embedded with smooth wooden bars that had been enchanted until they were harder than steel, and the wide double door was made from a single piece of petrified wood. Compared to the white basalt constructions of the capitol or the dingy buildings in the merchant quarter, it stood as a lone tree in a valley of rocks.

He circled around the busy front door to a side entrance that was padlocked and spellbound. Quietly, he whispered the command mnemonic that would deactivate the defensive enchantment designed to incapacitate intruders and slid his key into the lock. The smell of hops and fermented fruit assaulted his nostrils as he stepped into the brewery. Several workers stopped to see who had opened the private entrance. There was no fear of a break-in as the defenses were both loud and considerable. His Father made a point of testing the enchantment with a raw pheasant whenever he hired a new employee. Apparently, watching a bird explode was supposed to make them feel safe working here.

“It is just me everyone, back to your posts, ” he greeted them. The dark room came into focus after a few seconds to adjust from naked daylight. Hogsheads the size of an ox lined the room, their contents listed on a plaque in the form of two stylized symbols. The first symbol represented the brewer whereas the second denoted the type of brew. On the other side were several giant copper brew kilns that were heavily enchanted to keep the contents at the perfect temperatures depending on what they were making. This operation, among other things, was the secret to his fathers success. Not many enchanters out there had enough experience as a brewer to make anything close to as fine tuned as these beauties.

Arthur passed out through a door on the other side. A strange mix of excitement, guilt, dread, and just a smidge of greed sloshed around in his gut, causing much discomfort. His steps slowed as he approached his destination. There was no telling what would happen once he displayed his prize for scrutiny.

He passed out of the brewery into a boring hallway that served to separate the bar, living quarters, warehouse, and other parts of the building from each other. Without hesitation, he went down the hall to an ornate wooden door with light rolling in through the cracks, the scratch of a quill competing with the rowdy sound of celebration from the opposite end of the hall.

Arthur stopped within arms reach of the door. Gulp, for some reason, his mouth had gone dry and his limbs suddenly felt very heavy. Would knocking be the best course of action or calling out and hoping the person on the other side heard him? He managed to drag his feet for an extended time with a series of less and less plausible hypotheticals when a voice boomed from the far side.

“Are you going to stand there all day? Dark Abyss, open the door and come in already!”

The door jerked open as the man inside grew impatient and came to see who was disturbing him. Standing at a little over two meters tall and nearly a meter wide at the shoulders, the giant standing in the door jam was a hulking figure. His hair was the grainy brown of freshly tilled soil and his skin the color of golden clay, but it was his eyes that captured your attention. They changed with the light and hinted at a different color with every motion—sometimes they were green, other times they were black, brown, or even grey.

“Arthur. It is rare to see you up and about during daylight hours. What brings you to my study?” The big man ducked out of the door jam and motioned the boy towards a wooden chair across from the desk that dominated the room. This was his father’s study, where he did most of his paperwork for his businesses, charity and his bureaucratic obligations. Needless to say, the room was full of parchment. Arthur picked up a haphazard stack off of the seat, placed it on a clear spot on the floor, then sat down.

“I have a favor to ask of you father.”

“A favor? After the message you sent me this morning, I expected you to be here asking for news about Casper’s situation.”

“I do want to know about that, but I came to ask about...something else.”

The big man raised his eyebrows as he leaned back in his chair like a shaggy bear. His expression was a mix of thoughtfulness and suspicion. “Did you now? Why do I have the feeling that you are up to no good again?”

Arthur bit back his reply. His father was always answering questions with questions. He thought it built character to lead others to making conclusions for themselves instead of just being told the answer. It didn’t help that he was correct most of the time.

“I recently acquired something. Something that could food on the table for a long time.”

“Do I not provide for you adequately, Arthur? All this skullduggery and risky business you employ yourself in will one day lead to your death.It is not worth the trouble when there are meals and a bed for you here.”

“Leave my fate in the hands of another. Father, you taught me to be self-reliant, to be a sovereign over my life. Should I not seek to improve my lot in life?”

“I said that you are sovereign over your choices, that is a very different thing. The only one you can control is yourself. Do not misquote me to my face. It is rude.”

“I apologize for my rudeness, but I was just answering your question. Life has shown me that nothing is free, or to be taken for granted. Thus, I come here for a favor,” Arthur fished a glowing crystal out of his pocket and held it aloft in his palm. Flickers of crimson light and deepest shadow danced on the walls as if a hearth had been lit in the center of the room.“I wish to exchange this for hard currency but have no one to sell it to. If I try to sell it legitimately, then the guard will question me. If I try to sell it on the black market than the potential buyer will most likely take it by force due to my weakness, but you have the personal power to trade it.”

“Where did you get that?” The big man asked softly as he leaned forward in his chair to examine the crystal. It was a crimson sphere in the cabochon style that the Djinn took so much delight in, but this was no mere gem. “This is a pure Fire crystal, No impurities whatsoever. Thank the Almighty that you had the good sense not to sell this or you definitely would have been killed. Do you have any inkling just how much this is worth?”

Arthur squirmed in his chair, trying to find a response that didn’t incriminate him.

“You did try to sell it, ” his father accused. “Boy, how many times have I warned you that caution, not boldness, was the better part of valor?”

“What else am I supposed to do, loaf around and pretend to be an ordinary child until some stranger gives me ‘permission’ to take responsibility for my life? All while I watch my friends starve and live in squalor because the same strangers are taking food from their mouths. Father, I appreciate your efforts and am grateful that you took in a no-good urchin like me, but I want to help!”

The big man was taken aback by the sudden burst of emotion from the boy. He contemplated the situation silently for several minutes before coming to a conclusion. He reached over to a carved, wooden box on his desk and placed the Fire crystal inside, the glowing ambiance faded immediately. Only the candles placed strategically around the room continued to provide illumination. He leaned down and whispered a word of power that caused an echo of mana to fill the room as the box disappeared.

“I will take you up on your offer to assist the grand effort, though you need to understand that you are not yet old enough to join the resistance proper. What role do you see yourself excelling at?”

“Well, I can climb and I can move unseen. You already know that i’m an excellent pickpocket.”

His father held out a staying hand. “You will be doing none of those things. Remember what I just told you. Tell me what role you can play, without committing crimes.”

“Ugh, I've never thought about that much. Everything in my life revolves around vice and grift.”

“What about your magical training. Your master assures me that you are about to reach the next stage in your advancement. What can you do with that?”

“As for my cultivation. I have reached the shell substage and am progressing down the flesh substage. Master assures me that by the end of the year that I can progress from novice to a become a full cultivator. So far, I have been able to master a few basic techniques and some unusual ones.”

“Such as?”

“I can move swiftly and hide my presence, but that isn’t the strange part. Last week I ordered a broom to sweep the floor...and it obeyed me, kind of. It moved two meters before we both fell over due to mana withdrawal.”

“Fascinating! That doesn’t sound like any cultivator technique that I have ever heard of, great work!” Arthur begrudgingly sat still as his father’s shovel-like hand pounded the air from his lungs in paternal pride. Most men settle for a light pat on the shoulder, but not Felix Earthguard. He believed in giving full accolades to his wards, even if it left them gasping on the floor afterward.

He leaned towards his desk and grabbed a thin piece of parchment that was normally used to protect his desk from ink bleed through. He folded the stained piece into a triangle, then he folded it again before handing it to Arthur.

“Order this paper to fly around the room in concentric circles until you run out of mana! You cast it afloat like this.” He demonstrated the technique by flinging the folded paper glider down the hallway before he retrieved it.

Arthur was fascinated by the little craft and spent several minutes playing with it before the novelty began to fade. It was time to work. He began a basic breathing exercise designed to assist him in concentration. Then he reached deep down into himself. Not into his mana pool, where he took the energy to power his techniques, no, he reached deeper than that, to a place that he had only just become aware of, let alone understood. Then he took hold of the alien might that numbered there in his metaphysical grasp and pulled a small sliver loose.

Slowly, he reeled that condensed power to the surface, where his established mana channels were located. The sliver sped down the river of power to his core, where it melded into it. The change was difficult to describe, mainly due to the fact that he didn’t have the vocabulary to begin a description, he just knew that it had been altered subtly. Arthur knew from the few experiments that he had performed that the change he had wrought would fade on seconds if he didn’t channel it to purpose, so he started imperiously down upon the parchment glider and commanded it’s obedience. “Fly!”

A connection formed between his mana core and the target at the moment of command, which facilitate the change. The parchment became aware enough to follow his command. It lifted off of the ground and circled the little chamber like a vulture over a dying bison. It circled once, twice, three times before it started to lose whatever gave it animation. To it’s credit, the glider managed two more graceful passes before it landed softly on the desk.

“What a wonder, ” Felix exclaimed. “In all my years, I have never encountered such a power. Arthur, I might have a position for you after all, if you up for it? That, however, does not dismiss the matter of this Fire crystal. Where did you acquire it?”

Arthur winced at the turn around from glory to suspicion. His father was always doing that. He was quick to praise, but also quick to business. He had hoped to distract him with his little outburst earlier, but no dice. Now that direct question had been asked there was no more room for equivocation.

“I stole it from the ‘Adjudicator’ this morning when he was traipsing around the ward like a moron. Casper was trying to keep him out of trouble. He failed.”

“Ahh. That makes a great deal of sense. Casper was here an hour ago to report his encounter before returning to his side at the academy. An interesting fellow.Y ou stole this from the Phoenix Cloak correct?”

“Father, surely you don’t believe in legends. The Pheonix Cloak is a tale you tell the other kids around the fire at night. It isn’t real.” Arthur scoffed.

“Ah, but it is real. I saw it once in my youth. Only the Sentinel has the power to grant that cloak to a mortal, hence that man you disdain is indeed an agent of the Sentinel, the Adjudicator. It is unfortunate that the cloak, as well as the pouch you took this from, is gone now.”

“Gone, how is it gone?”

“During the altercation you oversaw, the cloak came to life and defended its bearer. Then it melded with him, to where it went or how I do not know. Though, I will be keeping this. Trading it will assist in buying certain political favors that will prove highly beneficial to all of us. You are to never speak of this matter again, this will be our little secret, Arthur!”

“Yes, father. It never happened.”

“Oh, it happened. I just have not decided on a fitting punishment yet. Be off with you. Your siblings tell me that you promised to tell them a story.