“Magi.” Vallerian grumbled. “Even hundreds of years ago you couldn’t trust them.” Charlotte cawed her response, and Vallerian nodded satisfactorily. She was right, magic was wrong. At least with Celeste and Gardinal they channeled the grace of the gods. That he could understand. This arcanum stuff though? How could glowing rocks turn into weapons and fire?

Gathering himself, Vallerian looked around and sighed. He was still standing on the White Road by the gate, crowds of people passing him by. The people here were clean at least, even if too many of them wore the robes of The Academy. Every now and then a patrol of Crystal Wardens would pass by, brilliant blue cloaks fluttering behind them, vambraces glowing gently with their arcanum crystals. Vallerian growled, the sooner he could be free from this wretched place the better. Unfortunately, the only way to be free was a man named Kredik.

“But how to find him?” Vallerian asked Charlotte, and she shook her head. “I don’t know why I ever ask you anything.” He snapped, and she cawed at him aggressively. He tapped her on the beak for that sass.

Looking around, he tried to find his bearings. That was always a challenge for him here. The Marchioness had only given him a name. And, unlike Southshore, Vallerian had no interest in wandering around for a few days gathering information. For a moment he imagined himself striding up to one of the Academy students and asking them: Do you know a Master Kredik? Specializes in blood magic. Vallerian shook his head, that would go just splendid now, wouldn’t it? Might as well stand in the middle of the street and shout I’m here to get the prophetess’s blood tested against the crown prince, anyone know where to go?

Vallerian kicked a pebble that went tumbling off across the White Road and nearly struck a young Jöln in academy robes rushing across the street. What a pain. The Marchioness couldn’t have just given him some actual directions now, could she? Or even a map?

Vallerian looked around again, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Intuition, that was how he always survived, that would be how he would find this magus. Unfortunately, he found his intuition was always a bit off when it came to magi. Tall, strangely shaped buildings fanned out around him. One, shaped like a tall, stretched teapot painted the most garish hue of orange carved out the entrance to a dark alleyway. That alleyway led away from the center of the district, away from the academy. Vallerian shrugged, if he were a disgusting magus with a specialty in blood and Chaos, a dark alley is certainly where he would set up shop. With a loud sigh, he took a step towards it.

“Not that way dear husband.” A familiar breathy voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Lyleria?” He questioned, spinning on the spot. Taking the sight of her in, his heart skipped a beat. She stood tall and stunning as always. Today she wore a violet gown in the Fereni fashion, pinched in tight at the waist before flaring out with long fitted sleeves. A square neckline embroidered with silver threads and little, tiny jet beads cut just low enough to make Vallerian bite his lip and stare a tad bit longer than he should have. He had always had a bad habit of staring at the sun as a child. “How long have you been following me?” He asked his wife.

She glided up beside him, taking his left arm in her right, then patted him on the cheek a tad too roughly with her other hand. “Oh, my dearest, do you think I have nothing better to do than follow you around?” She had a way of talking to him that made him feel more like a pet than a husband. Charlotte crooned for a moment, and Lyleria darted her eyes to the bird. “It’s nice to see you as well Charlotte.” She added, and Charlotte puffed out her chest with a sense of pride. Since when had those two gotten along?

He shot her a glare. Traitor. “What are you doing here then?” He asked his wife.

“Mother wanted an update; you have been taking too long and we knew you had the blood. She grows impatient.”

Vallerian froze, eyeing her nervously. A merchant nearby selling arcanum-inlaid jewelry from his stall caught her eye for the moment, but Vallerian studied her. They knew he had the blood. Perhaps twirling it around his fingers at every inn in Southshore hadn’t been his brightest moment.

“So, you know what I have then?” He asked, tapping his chest where the vials were hidden within secret pockets. He was never sure all that the Marchioness shared with her daughter.

“I’ve been informed.” Lyleria responded.

“Do you know why I’m risking my neck like this then?” He probed. The question as to why Crysilla had gone to such great efforts to verify the girl’s heritage still nibbled at the edge of his mind. Especially when it had nearly cost him his life.

“Mother wants confirmation before she expends any more resources on the girl.” She shook her head, and they took a turn, moving down a new, less cramped, street. “She needs to know if she is wasting her time or not.” Fewer merchants’ carts lined this street, but the three and four storey buildings that loomed above them all had signs stretching over the narrow alley marking their wares.

“And if the girl is who we think she is?” Vallerian asked.

“Then your work, my dear, will truly begin.” She stopped suddenly, pulling a knife and pressing him against a wall. At the sudden force of the movement Charlotte flapped away in a bluster. “We’re here.” She whispered before eyeing him up and down like a particularly juicy piece of meat. “Get this finished and do return home husband. It’s been…” She leaned in, pressing him up against the wall tightly and letting her lips grace his ear lobe gently. “… far too long.”

Vallerian gulped and felt his wife’s dagger press against his throat.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you waiting wife.” He answered hastily. Thankfully she pushed off of him after that.

“Good.” She winked, before sauntering off with her usual hip swaying motion. Vallerian watched her walk away, his heart beating rapidly. That woman would be the death of him one of these days, if her mother wasn’t first at least. Vallerian felt a chill run down his spine, then felt a blush cover his face as he thought for a moment on what awaited him at home. He did miss her as well at times. He certainly couldn’t lie to himself about that.

Charlotte cawed from just above him. Turning to look, he saw the bird resting atop a large pole of wood jutting out from the wall he had been pressed against. Beneath Charlotte, a sign hung. Master Kredik, it read in plain Ferenic text. Alchemist Class IV. Ferenic numerals for 4. He didn’t know alchemists had classes. Well, other than at the Academy.

“Let’s get this done then.” He whispered to himself, before looking up to his friend again. “Charlotte, you stay out here and keep an eye.”

She cawed an affirmation, and Vallerian pushed open the door and entered the building.