The time that Argrave spent with his companions in the village without a name was probably the happiest Argrave had ever been in Berendar. Though the food was exceedingly simple, their neighbors were unhappy at their presence, and the days were cold and stiff, he’d never known finer company than those Argrave travelled with. Being in life-or-death situations made their trust unbreakable, their honesty comforting, and their presence easing.

Durran practiced with Galamon, trying to adapt to only having a forefinger and thumb on his left hand. When that wasn’t happening, the tattooed tribal delved into books. Of late, he seemed to be inspired about something—he spent a particularly long amount of time focusing on previously untouched necromantic spell books written by Garm. Argrave was somewhat concerned, but he trusted Durran was a good enough person to use necromancy wisely.

Anneliese and Argrave focused on their magic studies. She was half-tutor, half-peer, and Argrave learned much and more studying with her. Never once did it feel like a chore. Indeed, it felt like a blessing, probably because they’d been enduring deadly struggles for weeks on end. Or maybe the blessing was simply the fact he got to spend time with Anneliese.

His study into a particular spell bore fruit after a while.

An invisible tempest swirling in Argrave’s hands splayed the grass flat against the ground. He held his hands out, and the power freed itself. The wind took visible form, though it was like a pane of glass against grass. It was the shape of an armored knight holding a gargantuan tower shield perhaps eight feet tall. The knight braced, then swung the shield from left to right with tremendous force.

Wind split through the vast plain ahead of him with tremendous force. Grass and the dirt in the tempest’s path were both torn asunder, upturned by the seemingly indomitable force pushing past. In only a few seconds, a vast area of wintry grass had simply been removed, much of the dirt beneath it similarly uprooted. The knight vanished, yet the wind kept travelling across the plains before them, splaying the grass flat and slowly losing power.

“Heheh…” Argrave raised his hand to his mouth, hiding a smile as he giggled. Dirt and grass peppered the area of ahead of them. “Good gods.”

“Quite a potent wind spell,” Anneliese remarked, standing with arms crossed behind Argrave.

“Compared to most of the other B-rank spells of different elements… it might be a little less potent,” Argrave nodded. “My [Pavise Gale] wouldn’t do near as much damage as the [Icebound Twinblades] you used at the Marred Hallowed Grounds. The strongest point is the initial swing of the pavise, and after, it weakens by the second.” Argrave turned his head back to her and walked up. “But it’s a lot cheaper than most B-rank spells, it can protect me while it’s active, it forces foes away from me, and it’s fitting when you consider I still have that ring that augments wind spells I got at Jast. Moreover, I intend on keeping my tried-and-true strategy.”

Anneliese tilted her head. “And what is that?”

“Sword and shield,” Argrave said. “Keep my opponents away with one hand, while I conjure [Electric Eels] with the other to do concentrated bursts of attack. Lightning magic is precise and deadly. Most other spells are more… wide range. I might cause more devastation if I use innumerable powerful fire, ice, or earth spells, but I can learn those later. For now—this is highly efficient.”

“And what of B-rank lightning magic? [Electric Eel] is still C-rank,” Anneliese noted.

Argrave put his hand to his chin. “They exist, certainly. You’ve learned some,” he pointed to her. “They’re the deadliest I could learn barring blood magic, but…”

“None are as precise as [Electric Eel],” she finished.

Argrave nodded. “Yeah. I can direct eight eels to attack different targets, and they do so with pinpoint accuracy. No collateral damage, too. Spells like the B-rank [Cloudborn Chain] are incredibly long-range and uncomfortably fast, yet it can only strike one target, whereupon the electricity spreads out for a short distance,” Argrave summarized. “Very deadly, but lacking versatility.”

Anneliese took a deep breath and sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Argrave stepped forth.

Anneliese looked at him with sad eyes. “We’re to be facing foes capable of spells like that in the future.”

Argrave raised his hand to her face and brushed aside a strand of her long white hair. “Our armor is better than you might think. And the whole reason I had you get the Starsparrow was so that we can scout ahead, avoid fights entirely. The only way I see us losing against most normal opponents is if we’re ambushed.”

“Our own capability does not diminish danger entirely. One misstep… one ambush unforeseen… that is all it takes to meet the end. And the likelihood of that is greater now that you are a target of public interest. You are known as a contributor in stopping the plague. A hero to some, yet a target to others… others, who…” She shook her head. “I apologize. It is not like me to be rattled so.”

Argrave took her into his arms at once. “I hear you,” he said, chin resting gently atop her head. “And I worry too, believe me—I don’t have to tell you. I can’t deny I want to stay in this little village with you, living happily until we expire.” Argrave shook his head. “But there’s a big obstacle to that in the shape of a world-ender… and a bunch of little obstacles along the way. We’ve got stupid people grasping for power at the wrong time, ancient evils waking up, and a whole lot of chores to do before we can rest.”

Anneliese laughed quietly into his shoulder. “I cannot picture how you managed that all this time.”

He finally pulled away and held her face before his. “I think you do. Because you’re doing it too, now. You have been for a while. We’re racing headlong to oblivion—whether we stop it or embrace it, I guess we’ll figure out.”

#####

Durran was so engrossed in reading on the house’s porch that he did not hear Argrave approach. Naturally, the opportunity was not wasted—Argrave crept up behind him and grasped his shoulders suddenly and fiercely. Durran cried out and thrust his elbow at Argrave’s face in reflex. With a step back, the elbow whizzed by his face, and Argrave stood there laughing.

“You mother…” Durran held his hand to his face, then eventually joined Argrave in laughter. “Good gods. Next time, I won’t miss, you know.”

“We’ll see,” Argrave stepped forth and sat beside Durran. “You’ve been working hard lately,” he noted.

“Well, it’s hard to stand about twiddling my thumbs when everyone else is working night and day. I blame you freaks,” Durran shook his head. He picked up the book he’d thrown aside after the scare. He was still a bit rattled, and he took some time to calm himself, cursing at Argrave.

“But, uh… necromancy?” Argrave noted the book’s cover. Though still a low-rank necromantic spell, it was necromancy nonetheless. The spell Durran read only allowed him to take notice of spirits—harmless, ostensibly, but it was a gateway spell.

“Yeah. Had some plans for a couple people that I dislike,” Durran nodded.

Argrave laughed, knowing he was joking. “Orion might not go down so easily.”

“We’ll see,” Durran repeated Argrave’s earlier claim. “Anybody dies if you drop something heavy enough from a high place. Get a wyvern…” he finally broke into laughter, unable to keep a straight face.

“But seriously,” Argrave cut into the amusement. “Why now? You avoided the stuff earlier.”

Durran scratched beneath his chin. He hadn’t shaved recently, and stubble had formed. “Well… seeing the Corpse Puppeeter, that whole scenario, really got me thinking. That was power. Incontrovertible power. Beyond that, I thought…” Durran raised up his left hand. “Maybe there’s some freaky magic I could pull.”

“Freaky magic?” Argrave raised a brow.

“You know. Reanimate fingers, sew them back on,” Durran waved his left hand about. “I even asked Galamon if he’d be willing to donate.”

Argrave stared at him in awe.

“What? He’d be fine overnight,” Durran said defensively. “Maybe I could give back some blood, I don’t know. Whatever,” he shook his head. “His fingers were too big, anyway, and things don’t work that way. They’d either wriggle at their own will if I gave them souls or stay stiff if I didn’t, and neither suit my needs.”

Argrave wrung his hands together uncomfortably, acutely aware of the fact he had fingers. “Like I told you… we can make an early trip to Vysenn. Forget fingers, you can regrow entire legs if you head out there,” Argrave advised.

“Forget it. I don’t need it, and it’s a significant detour,” Durran shook his head. “Whenever you planned to go is when we’ll go.”

“It’s just…” Argrave clenched his hands a bit tighter against each other. “Anneliese told me you got that saving me after I passed out.”

Durran stared ahead. “Doesn’t really matter ‘when.’ It just happened, bottom line. I’m fine with it.”

“Thank you,” Argrave said. “I’m grateful.”

“Better be,” Durran said. Argrave knew his arrogance was spurred by embarrassment, so he only laughed at the former tribal’s response.

They stared out across the countryside of wintry grass in silence, nothing but the sound of the wind on their ears.

“We’ll be heading to a big city after the Tower of the Gray Owl. Dirracha,” Argrave turned his head.

“Yeah?” Durran met his gaze.

“You deserve a break. I’ll give you some money—do whatever the hell you want, so long as you don’t draw any attention. Significant attention, at least.”

Durran’s eyes brightened. “How much money?”

“More than you’ll need,” Argrave said simply.

Durran smiled. “I deserve it,” he said, poking his chest. “Maybe I can wash out some of those prayers Orion taught me with good memories.”

“I hope so,” Argrave rose to his feet with a grunt. “I still have to talk with Galamon soon.”

Durran watched Argrave as he walked away. “Trying to have a heart-to-heart with everyone?”

“Yeah,” Argrave stopped. “We leave soon. Maybe I’ll talk with him on the road.”

Durran put his elbows on his knees. “I feel less special.”

Argrave chuckled, then walked away.

#####

They spent a total of two weeks at the isolated, sparsely populated village on the edge of the northwest. It might’ve been shorter, but the stay was extended by Argrave’s studies into magic, as casting a few B-rank spells consequently delayed the rate at which he was able to repay the debt to Erlebnis. He dared not leave before he was certain he was capable of defending himself and his companions to the best of his ability.

Argrave felt he was snowballing. Becoming Black Blooded was no minor thing, and the edge it gave him over others made itself known day by day. Already he had more actual magic than Anneliese, despite the fact she was both several years older and had been at B-rank longer than he had. At A-rank, their next objective in terms of personal power, magic capacity did not matter—it was more about knowledge, talent, and comprehension, all three of which Anneliese had in spades. She knew infinitely more spells at each rank than he did. He planned their route around that.

And so, after the ample amounts of rest and preparation they’d undergone, the four of them departed in the early morning, saying their goodbyes only to the widow who had generously allowed them to stay for a minor payment. Emboldened and well-rested, they headed towards the Tower of the Gray Owl cautiously. The titanic building became visible very quickly, serving as an easy landmark to guide their travels.

For some reason, Argrave felt a sense of paranoia during the whole trip. He had been happy these past two weeks—it was well past time for the other shoe to drop.

He’d be sure to catch it.