Penta Blueshield could not believe her eyes watching the half-knight move. He was...good. At least, better than most. In the span of a single lesson, he'd grasped her teachings and his aura burned slowly, if barely. It guttered out after 30 heartbeats or so.

It was one of the fastest she'd seen someone figure out Aura, an unrestricted one, at that. He sat down in a lotus position, his irises, white, face twisted in a horrible grimace as he tried to coax his mana.

"Maybe you're not totally clueless." She stood beside him, hands crossed. General Roko had made a fuss about pushing him to the breaking point.

"I don't need another Mediocre one," he said. "Break him if you have to," and she'd fully intended to, but he was keeping up.

"Focus on holding the flow," she barked out. "Any vampire who had any lick of training will swat you like a fly the second your aura drops." He grunted in half-protest, half-irritation. She knew he didn't like her, and she didn't need him to. If none of them did by the end of this, she would have done her job.

"Nyssa!" she called out and her apprentice and teaching assistant ran up to her, abandoning the group of 9 sweating knights. "Watch him. I'll handle them."

Her boot crunched against dry sand, her nose upturned as she inspected the row of channeling knights. They were sweating, gasping, cobbling rune spell after rune spell, and pushing it out in great breaths. Sometimes, their spells flared to life when they combined flow, concentration, and quantity just right, other times, it rode back up to their core and blossomed in a painful burst of mana.

"Focus on your ratios! Don't falter."

They all whined, but she muted out their voices. They had no right to complain. Learning to consistently activate their spells were the basics. What came next was far more intimidating. They would have to face the worse of Vraphen. She shuddered at the memory of her allocation test. Hunting down a pack of Half-blood were ghouls rampaging through the countryside. And it was only going to get worse. According to the General, there was a new threat. Blood mages, he'd called them.

In the corner of her eyes, she saw the Seno girl fail her rune activation for the third time.

"Seno! Are you going to just keep burning Mana or are you actually going to cast something?"

The girl shook her head side to side vigorously, sweat pooling down her brow, but she'd her eyes remained hard. Penta stood in front of her, hands clasped, and said, dryly.

"Don't make me wait all day."

The girl gathered what must've been the last dregs of her mana, fed it into her runes, and shot a wind bolt the size of a fist hard into the far wall. It exploded in a bright spray of dust and stone. Penta rewarded her with a smile before moving on to the next knight.

Although the instruction had been to single him out, she'd break every single one. The farther they were on their paths, the better off they would be out there. Maybe some of them might actually survive.

--

Seth hobbled in slow steps to a large squat building with six chimneys puffing black smoke. From afar, he could feel the heat rolling from the windows and doors. It was the General's smithy, where all the weapons his knights use are fashioned before Medzka gets to working on them. Seth had assumed someone like Medzka would prefer to micromanage the entire process, but he'd settled for the second-best. Adept Runescrivers personally drew the measurement for each weapon and supervised its creation, without ever lifting a hammer themselves. Collins had said it had something to do with being too busy to learn metalwork, but Seth just thought they didn't want to get their hands dirty.

He gave two quick knocks on the large wooden door and a heartbeat later, the door slid open and a man twice his size stepped out. He wore a gas mask, with small rune scripts shinning on each side, and a dirty overall with grease stains and soot all over. He regarded Seth through the murky lens of his mask for a moment before he yelled.

"Harkness, the boy's here to see you." Seth thought he'd misheard the man, but sure enough, Harkness lumbered up, his smile soft, face grizzled, wearing a shirt and an apron just as dirty as the other man's.

"Seth," he said with a nod.

"Harkness," Seth nodded back, his voice cold.

If the man noticed, he didn't let it show. A grin split his chiseled face. "Well, come on in. We have a huge order to run through today. Father told me you're eager to Smith. It's a noble side profession for a knight." Seth heard the man that had opened the door snort in response to that.

Harkness led him through the main hall where dozens of muscle-bound men hammered away at anvils. Large forges set against hard walls belched dark smoke and glowed inferno red. Orb light hovered overhead, illuminating the hall, and Harness led him into a room, cleaner, brighter, and smaller than the central area.

Two Anvils sat in the center, along with a set of hammers, molds, a smelter, several bricks of Iron ore, masks, and clothes.

"This is where you'll be working when you're not up in Medzka's workshop weaving runes and scraping up to the adepts."

There was a little more emotion in his voice, but Seth decided to keep his questions to himself. He remembered what kind of man Harkness was.

They stood there in silence or a minute before he finally spoke, "Onto smithing then." He walked to the corner and hefted an Iron bar at Seth. Seth easily caught it. It weighed no more than a clay brick. Seth hefted it once, then twice.

"Great isn't it? The new strength is the best part about being a fresh knight. That and the runes, of course." He walked over to the wall and pulled on a pair of gloves.

"This is the first class so I won't be showing you anything fancy, only the techniques and how to work a forge. Making weapons won't come for a while."

He gestured to Seth to throw the ore and he easily caught it. "Let's begin then."

Hanson started by the forge. It was a fiendish stout open metal pot with red scripts burning on its side and white-hot rods on the open surface. He fetched a large ashen black container popped in the ore, let it steam till it was near-white then poured into a mold he'd had Seth set out. The metal hardened slowly and he chilled it further with scripts. And when the bar was primed, he heated it again and demonstrated a few hammer techniques he'd mastered. Every time he swung his hammer, it struck true and even, not an inch too broad. It was a marvel to watch.

Seth spoke when he noticed the man had nearly lost himself in his silent work.

"Why do you smith?" He had his reservations about the man but he was clearly good at his craft.

"It gives me space to think," Harkness said, looking up from the glowing yellow metal. "More than that, I'm looking to forge my own Gauntlet. Every Roko uses Father's design. I'd like to see if I could make something better."

Seth didn't ask General Roko was a smith. His office was packed with it.

"Do all Roko men smith then?"

Harkness laughed. "You think all Roko men are copies of my Father?"

"I've only met one. I'd just assumed," Seth said dryly.

He looked somewhat peeved but Seth could tell he wasn't really upset. "Well, you're not entirely wrong. Agni buries his nose in books and wouldn't touch a blade if you tossed him in a room with a Blood Skreel, but he looks about the same as Father and I. But not just as handsome," he added with a wink.

Seth's regarded the man with an impassive face.

A script on the wall came alight, flashing red, and Harkness ordered, "Mask on." His aloof face had transformed, and he tore a mask hanging off the wall and handed it to him.

"We process Black steel here," he explained. "It's mined near the Vraphen continent and the stuff pours out shadow magic residue when you smelt it. It will melt your insides if you breathe it in long enough. It's worth the risk though. It conducts mana incredibly well and gets harder than anything I've worked with" Seth slipped on his mask and he continued to demonstrate.

The lesson lasted for hours and by the end of it, Seth found himself warming up to Harkness. He was decent as far as nobles went, if you discarded receiving credit for their hard work and him being a general dick.

"That's enough for today," Harkess said, whipping off his mask. He pulled a clean towel and wiped his face. "I'll see you tomorrow evening then."

"I don't think I can do that," Seth said, removing his own mask. "I have runesmithing practice alongside smithing."

Harkness nodded and tapped his chin, "Weren't your studies delayed by a whole month though?"

Seth's eyes hardened at that. "How did you..."

"How did I know?"

Harkness ambled up to him, his face split with a lopsided grin. "Because every instructor and assistant here pay attention. I was briefed, you'd be smithing for the foreseeable future."

Seth chewed on those words and understood. They were being monitored. To what extent, he'd yet to determine, but if he was right, they saw everything with a spell most likely. They might probably even know he'd meditated this morning without Penta's consent. They might even know about his duels with Ellie?

Was that why she'd taken them to duel so far away? His mind spun with a dozen questions, none of which Harkness would probably provide answers to.

"I'd like to spend that time catching up," Seth said, instead. "I have ambition at runescriving as well as smithing. I'd prefer to complete the challenge Chief Runescriver Medzka has set before me."

It was a moment before he spoke. "Every other day, then," He moved to clean his workspace. He tended to the tools, hung the masks, and cooled the forge.

He saw Seth to the door of the Smithy and pulled back the large door. Just before he slipped out, he said. "Fathers wants you to take your dreams more seriously."

Seth whipped back at him, eyes wide. He'd been waiting for the General to send another carriage, but the message came through Harkness instead.

"It's only been two days, I can't say I have cracked blood magic quite yet," Seth said, trying to somewhat school his surprise, but Harkness apparently saw through that.

"So what have you learned? You mentioned something about runes?" Harkness leaned on the side of the open door, moonlight filtered on his grizzled form.

"They might as well be letters. I've not been able to get them to work. I script them on surfaces, but nothing happens." It was partially the truth. There was no need to tell them there was an oral component.

"Write them all down and bring them during your next lesson," Harkness ordered, and Seth found himself fixing the man a glare.

"Don't look at me like that. It's the smart thing to do," Harkness huffed. "You think he'd let you just keep it all to yourself," he scoffed. "They're smarter, more experienced Mages and Knights committed to this project. The Empire is too important to rely solely on one child's knowledge."

Harkness slid off the door. "I'll keep you updated, and you'll hold up your end of the bargain."

He disappeared into the quiet Smithy and pulled the door shut. Seth groaned at the whole situation and paced towards his room. Two days in and things were already falling apart. The General asked for too much too fast, and his runescriving instructor rebuffed him. If he didn't move faster, Seth feared the General might just wring him dry before he benefited from their arrangement.

--

Atar had a nervousness about him as he meandered down the hall of the Blue Geese. It was his palace, his home away from his family and their influence, yet...for the past week he didn't feel as confident or sure of himself as he walked down these halls, in particular. They were narrow with gold orb light brazier and blue-silver walls, just like the rest of his abode, but there was a flutter in his chest, each time he approached the room at the end of the hall.

A stray drop of sweat trickled down his face which he dabbed away with a perfumed silk handkerchief before he knocked on the door. It opened to reveal her. An ethereal flowing dress speckled with glowing lines that lent to her mystique and beauty. A head of jewels and braids flowed down her neck, and eyes so deep and blue they pierced his soul.

"Stunning," he said, and he meant it. In his earlier years, he'd made no small effort to come off as glib, articulate, and charming. That often meant that he spoke in half-truths, but before her, everything was laid bare. His heart skipped, and he felt like a schoolboy again. She both terrified and excited him. It was why he approached her.

"I try," she smiled. "Are you going to take me to a fire dance or keep staring at me?" Atar blinked for a moment and gave her a wry grin. He tucked out his elbow and she took it. Her perfume filled his nose as they walked down the hall. "You didn't warn me," he said. "Half of the noblemen at the Fire tower display will challenge me to a duel just to get a minute with you. You might have put my Geese at risk."

"Then you'd have to fight," she said with a rueful smile. "For your bird and me."

Atar chuckled as they stepped into the moving platform. Ellie gave him a sideways look when she saw the carriage he'd prepared for them.

"A carriage of gold?"

"Nothing but the finest for my lady?" Atar said, his chin high.

"For a man who's afraid of challenging suitors, you certainly know how to draw attention to yourself."

"Please, that is why I have guards, and if all else fails, I'll just throw you into the fray and run. I know you can take care of yourself."

Atar gave her a hand, and they slipped into the carriage. It wheeled forward with a gradual lurch.

Ellie had a point, of course. Riding to the Arena in a gold-plated carriage would draw both the Seno's ire and his Mother's disapproval, but he found his independence mattered more. They wouldn't stop, not unless he showed them. In a sudden fit of anger, his easy smile faded and a grimace surfaced, but only for a fraction of a moment. Atar checked to see if she'd caught it, but she stared out the windows, lost in thought. The cabin ricketed as they moved.

The arena stood closer to the Middle Ring Gates, peaking far above the surrounding structures, and squatted low, plunging hundreds of feet to reveal a flat stone top littered with boundary runes and scripts. Thousands of people came, from both within the city and far-removed places at the edge of the Empire. There were ancient practitioners of Fire and Ash, wizened dragonkin mages, and notable figures from several other towers. It was a ceremony of skill and achievement; a yearly event Mages from the five Orthodox towers looked forward to.

Atar reserved two seats a bit far away from the action. The spouts of fire had never penetrated the boundaries, but he wanted to be farther away, just in case. Ellie sat beside him, her face placid and emotionless, but her eyes betrayed her. They shone as she watched the mages danced.

They wore tight-fitting suits and a few wore nothing at all, and they all breathed and weaved mana as one. Their chants were rhythmic, each gesture calculated and slow, gushing out bright bursts of red and white. Atar heard gasps from the audience. The Dragma dancers were famous for their control of mana, far more of a match than any lone knight... if he'd let them finish their chants. He caught Ellie's eyes twinkle, even she was impressed by it.

"You've seen nothing yet, five more schools study under each tower. It's going to be quite show."

And it was. Ellie was smiling and gesticulating by the end of it, she bowed to each lord and lady that came to pay their respects, and Atar had a wider grin than hers. But as suddenly as it came, it faded as Sera Seno and her companion approached them.

It was the Seno girl that first spoke, but not to Ellie, but to Atar.

"Lord Vari, it's an honor." Her hips hinged, and her date bowed too, equally as enthusiastically, though not as naturally. His eyes and face lacked the practiced joy hers did.

"I prefer Lord Atar, or just Atar if you don't mind," he said.

"Forgive me," she said. "Candace did not inform me of the change, though the last time I spoke to her, she seemed distraught. You've refused to see her?"

She wasted no time, so he followed her lead. "Candace can drop by the Geese whenever she chooses, as a guest. I've called off our engagement."

"She said as much, but that is what I'm a bit confused about," she said with a truly befuddled expression. "Don't the family head and elders decide these things?"

Atar nearly laughed out loud, seeing her face. "My mother agreed to release me engagement if I found someone just as impressive as Candace, you'll find that Elleanor Ryall is more than measures up?" He squeezed her shoulder, and Ellie raised her eyes to meet Sera. The latter frowned at that, but only slightly. "In combat, I do not doubt Ellie's abilities. In influence, tact, and accomplishment, she is not Candace's equal."

"Nor do I need I to be. I am more than capable of handling my affairs, and Ellie's feats are well, legendary," Atar smiled, and Sera's face twisted horribly.

"Do as you please, Atar," she said and stalked away, her lumbering escort behind her.

Atar couldn't help but notice that she didn't call him Lord, not that it mattered. He breathed out and noticed that Ellie no longer stood beside him. He panicked a bit before he found her sitting inside the carriage.

"Are you okay?"

She gave him a fake smile and nodded.

His heart sunk.

"You were perfect tonight. I know that Candace will be absolutely when Sera reports back," he said, offering a hopefully more sincere smile. "Did you see the look on their faces?"

"I saw. Your plan worked perfectly."

"Yeah..." There was no joy in his voice or hers. "Home, then?"

She nodded, and he joined her in the coach.

As they rode, Atar watched her conflicted and fascinated. Someone so powerful, yet so fragile. Whatever happened at the Foglands changed everything between her and her team. She'd had her brother, but after his judgement-- Atar shivered-- the man was barely recognizable. He wore a perpetual scowl. His blue eyes were even sharper than hers. Atar had the impression he'd have scooped his eyes out with a spoon if he asked about it. He was hesitant to ask her too. She'd set out clear rules when they began their partnership

No asking about her past. No asking for benefits outside of strict work requirements, and no feelings. She'd been inflexible about all three rules on the day they'd met, but for the past two days now, after her training was done, she'd confided in him, even more.

It was a gamble, but he asked anyway. "What really happened in that temple?"

--

Sera fired a wind bullet into a small gathering of chairs in the corner of her room. It ripped through it, sending sparks flying in every direction, and she screamed. Brick stood behind her watching with his eyes weary.

"I can't believe she's doing this to me. After everything she'd already done, that bitch!" She seethed. Her betrayal at the foglands wasn't enough? She had to block her escape.

"It's like she wants me to be as miserable and trapped as the rest of the knights serving under that horrible, horrible man."

"There are worse things." Brick rumbled. Her eyes snapped to him.

"We'll be forever under his thumb if we stay. We've gone over this. He's heretical, using shadow magic and sorceries for his purposes. We all go down when the church comes for him?"

"Then why haven't they?" Brick asked. His face was stubly, his blue eyes dim, his jaw tight. "They have a deal, you know that. He doesn't exactly hide his secrets. The inquisitors know everything. I don't understand why you're pushing this so hard."

"You know why!" She'd explained it to him more than once, but he'd waved it off every time. The healers worked on him till they bled their cores dry, but she'd convinced he never recovered fully up there.

"I won't serve under him," she said. "He sent us to our deaths without batting an eye, is power-drunk, and he's perverting the divine paths. What do you think will come of us if we take his runes? Do you think we'll make Arch knight or Grand knight?"

"We will. Look at the instructors they're all Arch knights, and that's not even mentioning his council. Odds are most of them have runes just like ours. He clearly knows what's he's doing."

"But you don't know that for certain." Sera protested. "This could be a trap or worse."

"He wouldn't need to go through all that trouble to get rid of us," Brick's voice sunk low, "Why are we waging a war you know we won't win. You know this move with Ellie is only the beginning."

We. Was something there? Sera wondered, but the argument took precedent. He needed to see things the way he did. "I know I can win. The fact that he ordered her to keep him occupied proves it. The Senos might just be merchants, but with me, we have a shot at becoming a noble house. I won't let him or anybody have leverage over me when the time comes."

Brick scrunched his brow. "You know this might just be the beginning, don't you? Fighting him could take years. He's a General. He has hundreds of knights at his disposal. This could get ugly."

"He wouldn't dare!" Sera declared, her awash with horror and disbelief.

The argument had never reached this far.

"We the heroes of Blackfire. I have the weight of the Seno house behind me--"

"And I have nothing," Brick simply said. His words sliced through all arguments or objections. "I know how bad these things can get. I grew up in this city. I'd rather not put myself in his crosshairs." There was a heaviness to his voice, but Sera nearly scoffed. He'd tell anyone patient enough to listen.

"I grew up in Brightmont too, Brick. In the Upper ring, it hardly ever comes down to that kind of violence."

"We won't stay here forever. Six months from now, we could be wandering the wild hunting creatures, standing stiff guarding some noble territory, or be right back in the thick of it. He's not spoiling for ways to hurt us."

He forgot about the inquisitors, but she kept that to herself again. "You'd have me quit then? Lay down and let him take control of my life?" She swept across the room and settled by one of the remaining chairs.

"We ease out slowly," he followed, his hand spread amicably. "Take our time or get directly in front of this and talk to the man. He'll receive us."

She actually considered it--sitting down with the man and cutting a deal-- but she knew her pride and faith would not allow it. "He's likely to ask us for something that is just as damning as staying in his service."

"Then call on a family elder or your Father," he said, his voice stern. "They're the only ones who can make Roko do anything. No offense to your brother."

"No!" she said, almost too quickly. "I...can't. We must handle this between ourselves." Telling the soldiers would create more problems than it solves. Her father, Aham would know. "I'd rather... not bring this to his attention. He can be just as ruthless as the General."

"What do you suggest then!" he yelled, his face red. "You are spoiled with choices and you can't seem to decide which is better."

"Brick..." Sera began, but he cut her off.

"You can't always get what you want, Sera! Sometimes, there are no great choices, only compromises."

"How long have you held that in," Sera asked, her eyes fixed on his. Whatever he'd said bubbled beneath for as long as she'd known him. She knew Brick and the rest of the Raven looked at her. She thought after Blackfire he'd have changed. "Is this the part you tell me I'm spoiled?"

Brick snorted. "But you are."

"No, I'm not," she yelled. "I am ambitious, Brick. I've never had to settle, and I don't intend to start now. It's not my fault you can't see that?"

Brick laughed. It was joyless and long, and it made her more than a little uncomfortable. "What do you know about settling." His stare held her in place, and she released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding in when he spoke. "I am going to be staying at the Tower's quarters for a while."

"Brick..." she called for him when she gathered herself, but he was already through the door.