Over the next month, Velka’s body strength greatly improved. She learned to move in armor as per Keela’s request, as well as how to use a pike and a sword. In their regular sparring matches, Keela taught her to never aim for vital spots, instead aiming to create opportunities where such spots were wide open. At the end of this training, Velka could single handedly defeat all of the guard in sparring matches, without any magic. Keela, in the meantime, reworked the country from the bottom. She was dissatisfied with the disparity between classes and the dependence on outside sources for the wellbeing of her people. So she fixed it. She increased taxes to the people with money, redistributing wealth to the less fortunate with public services, installing public clinics and creating miscellaneous jobs. She removed the need for a class of nobles, crushing any rebellion that came with her decisions. Her new advisor had a better head on their shoulders, taking account of her requests and managing most of the country so she could focus on other things.

As she sparred with Velka without magic, receiving a sharp palm strike to the shoulder, she interrupted the match by surrendering.

“I think your combat strength is good enough for now. We can start trying out magic”, said Keela, panting.

“Are you sure you can teach me? We don’t match”, replied Velka, creating a small flame at the end of her finger.

“No, but I can help you find the core, which is much better for starting.”

And so she did, helping Velka strengthen the flow of magic, giving her a rough understanding of how the general mechanism operated. That night, she went back to Bertaut’s house. Wandering silently, she found his body, dispatched of its head, laying in the gardens in an advanced state of decomposition. At the sight, her throat tightened. The realization that her mentor really was dead properly settled in. She grabbed the silver ring off his finger and put it alongside hers on the middle finger of her right hand. She eyed the gold ring on her thumb and grit her teeth. She knew what to do next but she had to prepare. She spent the next hour digging a grave with tools she found in the garden, resting his body with a makeshift tombstone. She then headed for the basement, stuffing as many theory and history books as she could into a bag she shouldered before leaving, using the teleporter room for the last time in a while.

She set up her own study and training room, fashioned like the one she spent so many days in. She filled the bookshelves herself, refusing anyone else that asked to help. She got herself a small chain, putting all the rings on it and wearing it around her neck. Using the theory books, she taught Velka the best she could, helping her control the magic influx inside of herself.

“How does a fire burn?” she asked Velka, holding a book in her hand.

“That’s… outside my realm of knowledge”, replied Velka, resting against the wall, arms crossed.

“For a fire to burn, you need three things. Fuel, air and energy to kickstart it. Luckily, in your case, magic can fill both the kickstart and fuel. So you have to focus on making the fire burn and depending on the quality of fuel you put into it, it’ll burn hotter and brighter.”

“That’s difficult to comprehend as a whole.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

“You’re being awfully snobbish about this.”

“Not every day I can wear the mantle of teacher.”

Grumbling, Velka focused, creating a bigger flame in her palm. Focusing harder, the flame grew brighter before turning bright blue, making both of them jump.

“That’s… terrifyingly effective”, said Keela, rubbing her chin pensively.

“Is that what you meant?” asked Velka, extinguishing the flame by closing her fist.

“I suppose so. Never seen hotter fire myself.”

“You know that’s not helpful.”

Shrugging, Keela went back to her reading. She read most of the time now, filling her mind with as much knowledge whilst keeping up with her own training. She was focused on so many tasks at once that free time wasn’t a luxury she could afford these days. Her role had brought her to think a lot about her own teacher, she thought as she fingered the rings on her necklace.

The next day, she showed up to the strategy meeting wearing an old coat of Bertaut’s she had found in his room, fashioned into a cape over a simple button up shirt and comfortable pants. She sat at the table, grabbing an apple from the pile of fruit that never seemed to run out. Pensively staring out the open window, eating her apple, she thought about the next step in her plan. Right then, her advisor -- who was named Saphielle Mirafir -- called out to her.

“Princess, the order of business for today is--” started the advisor, interrupted by Keela.

“Before anything else, call in the Lowriders. I’ve an idea”, said Keela, getting up from her chair.

Saphielle paused in the middle of her sentence before putting the documents down on the table. She motioned a guard to come closer, whispered something in their ear and within 15 minutes, the Lowriders came through the door.

“To what do we owe the honor princess?” asked Ryol, offering a bow.

“Raise your head, I called you all here for a checkup and THEN a mission”, replied Keela, walking at a fast pace to get closer.

Puzzled, the members looked between themselves.

“I’ve decided to uproot some things, but to rip roots out, you need to find one. Now, tell me, do any of you recognize this ring?” she said, holding the gold ring between her fingers.

Silence weighed on the room.

“No one? Alright then. What about this then?” she said, bringing out a parchment and unrolling it.

She paused for a second.

“Our Father of the Razor, bringer of all that is good, I come before you to join the brethren. I swear loyalty and to bring absolution to--” she started, reciting the oath of the razor with a sarcastic tone.

Eyeing the Lowriders while she did so, she noticed one of the members looking away, hiding emotions forcefully. She stopped reading and, with a smile, walked up to them.

“Is something wrong?” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

The rest happened in a flash. She narrowly stopped the white dagger aimed at her stomach, grabbing the wrist with such strength that she crushed the bones. The wielder screamed, dropping the weapon. With a swift hit to the back of the head, she knocked them out, catching their limp body as they fell. Quickly checking, she found the two parallel scars on their leg, a few inches below the knee.

“Well then, for the rest of you, your mission: find the Ivory Razor in this city and tell me where they are. Dismissed.”