The students were afraid to use their magic, returning to their meditation with care to not exceed their Control. Florian didn’t blame them, and he largely followed their example. Until Wesley returned to them safe and sound, he would take it easy. Still, he was able to meditate for just over three hours without needing to rest, which was a gargantuan amount of time, especially in comparison to the other disciples.

A few of them stared open-mouthed at him as he opened his eyes. He had the vaguest sense that a headache was coming on, which was as fine a time to stop as any. The motes of mana he’d cycled throughout his body left back to the air as pristine as they had entered, the vibrant blue giving the room an air of brilliance missing from the other, dull motes. The three dozen students in the room, minus Wesley, was more than enough to tax the universe’s natural presence as they meditated.

His smile only grew wider when his onlookers turned away, embarrassed to have been caught staring. Mack approached him as he stood, stepping carefully between the haphazard rows of meditating people. “Disciple Cale, I would like to know why you’re so much better than the rest of us at this.”

Florian raised an eyebrow. Mack’s remark had caught the attention of the entire room, and most every disciple looked on in interest, even those that had been meditating even a moment before. “Experience, I guess. You need to practice long and hard, and then everything will speed up, no worries.”

Mack’s features darkened, but the answer brought a large number of the other disciples great hope. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

“Nope. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I see a hand over there.” Florian walked over to the other side of the room where the two dozen regular students sat. A girl around his age was sitting there, sweat running down her face. “What is it, Kayla?”

“So you’re saying that if I just practice harder, it’ll all work out?” the words tumbled out of her mouth as if they were in a competition with each other to see which would get out first.

Florian smiled. He hadn’t spoken much to Kayla; the girl typically ran out of class before anyone else. Even now, she was soft-spoken, but the words were said with a type of steel that Florian had only found in the Warriors that protected Leeds.

“Yes, that’s the gist of it. The more you practice, and the more you press your boundaries, the greater the reward. In exchange, the risk you take increases along with it.” Florian watched determination settle on her face, her jaw locking tight as she closed her eyes again, despite having clearly just stopped recently.

A part of him was glad to see it; it reminded him much of himself when he’d first learned magic. Pushing his limits, eager to wake up again stronger. But having witnessed Wesley’s collapse for himself, he hoped that Kayla wouldn’t be the second to suffer like that.

She was the only one to practice that zealously for the rest of the day, and most of the disciples, Florian included, opted to meditate only twice and spend the rest of the day in hushed discussion. Few chose to lie down in the fetal position, which had become almost a staple of the over-taxed disciples when their heads turned against them in rebellion.

As everyone streamed out of the keep, Florian heard a lot of noise by the gate. The sun hadn’t yet dipped completely below the horizon, so there shouldn’t have been any kind of attack, at least not yet. Curious, Florian followed the noise in between tents, finding himself in a little pocket between Tents 29 and 30, some of those closest to Leeds’ stone walls.

Gradually, he heard the din of a truck’s engine over the sound of people. The traders had arrived earlier than he had imagined. Unable to pass through the dense crowd around him, Florian resolved to wake up early the following day to see what exactly the traders had in store, and if he had anything that he could trade.

Deprived of his source of meat, Florian didn’t have much. Jones wasn’t exactly paying any of them to practice their magic, and while their living expenses were covered, it also meant that buying anything from the people from Tonbridge was next to impossible.

Sleep was difficult, but he managed to get in a few hours before sunrise. Finding nothing of value to trade, a grumpy Florian headed towards the caravan anyway, still excited just to see another group of survivors up close.

“One flashlight with batteries!” a man called at the top of his lungs, waving a yellow flashlight over his head. The thickly bearded man was standing atop the pickup truck’s bed, and a pistol rested at his hip. Other members of his caravan brandished their rifles around the pickup, making sure that the immediate area was clear of any of Leeds’ people.

“Five kilos of meat!” someone yelled back, their armor immediately designating them a Warrior. No one called out a higher bid, and the trader seemed all too happy to take a king’s ransom of what Florian assumed was Hellwolf meat. Florian wasn’t sure whether that was a good deal or not, but he could see the value in having a flashlight, particularly if the man was on night duty.

The Tonbridge traders offered a wide array of goods, almost all of them dating back to pre-Worldbreak. There were perfumes, watches, paper fans, shoes, backpacks, and all manner of little odds and ends.

"One bottle of ibuprofen!" a woman called, her words inciting the fiercest bidding war yet. People screamed over each other, escalating the amount of meat, fabric, and resources they could hand over to the traders. Eventually, as the price rose to astronomical amounts, Florian heard a familiar voice.

"Twelve kilos of meat!" Anna raised her hand in the air, her voice piercing over the few that remained vying for the medicine.

"Six bolts of cotton fabric!" screamed another familiar voice, this one belonging to Kayla. Florian saw her much more clearly than Anna, and the determination on her face now was not unlike the previous day.

"Thirteen kilos!"

"Seven bolts!"

"Fifteen kilos!" Anna proclaimed, and her bid received no competition. Kayla's hands were clenched tightly into fists as she walked away, disappearing into the crowd around them. Anna approached the caravan, obtaining a slip of paper from the trader before pushing her way through the crowd on her way back towards the tents.

The medicine had been the last major item that morning, and Florian had no difficulty imagining why it had been so vital. Returning to more mundane items, Florian scanned the beds of the pickup trucks to see what else they had to offer. The trades began to slow down as the morning dragged on, and it was time for him to leave before long.

Though the traders never offered them for sale, Florian also noticed a pile of armor pieces that rested in one of the pickups. Turning to leave, he noticed one of Jones’ guards lead a few of the merchants away from the caravan and past him.

As they passed, he heard something about closing a deal, and so Florian assumed that Jones acquired most of his newly produced armor from these traders. Wherever these traders had the raw resources to finance creating that armor, though, was a mystery that Florian had no idea how to unravel.

Florian swung around to follow them to the keep, a few other robed figures noticing his departure and hurrying past him as they sprinted for the keep. He smiled, slowing down his gait and allowing the last few disciples who were watching the morning’s proceedings to make it to the keep before him. He wasn’t sure if there was a penalty for being late, but he assumed that the guard that stood at the classroom’s door made Jones aware of any goings-on.

He wondered when he would leave with the traders to Tonbridge, and while a large part of him dreaded leaving, there was a niggling sense of curiosity that demanded to see another part of this strange reality he found himself in.