“Crumble how?” Dallion asked.

The building guardian had indicated nothing of the sort. Just to be on the same side, Dallion had had a brief talk with him to check. The guardian seemed as surprised as anything, although he did admit not knowing how the shardfly infestation occurred in the first place.

The walls are made of us, the shardfly replied. If all of us leave, there’ll be nothing holding the building.

An instance of Dallion made its way to the far wall in the room. On cue, masses of shardflies moved to the side, revealing an opening—or rather a doorway—leading further in. Purple light came from within, illuminating the entire space. Whatever was there had a lot of magic.

Did the mage build you? Dallion asked the building.

I was created three centuries ago, the guardian said with pride. Mages come and go. Some of them modify me, adding a new floor or basement. None of them bother mending me. They just slap their symbols on top. It’s unpleasant.

When this is over I’ll mend you, Dallion went through into the new room.

If the previous part of the cellar had plenty of shardflies, this was literally composed of them. Dallion could sense them in the walls and floor—not as part of it, but rather the building blocks that composed it.

See? The light emerald shardfly flew onto Dallion’s shoulder. Told you.

“Yes, you did.” Dallion looked around.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about the room: a few workbenches, an iron chest and a few wooden mannequins. The latter did raise some questions, though, after a brief conversation with their guardians it became clear that they were just brought down here to be out of the way. The interesting part came when Dallion tried talking to the chest. Not only did it contain the greatest amount of magic, but the item itself was an artifact, more specifically a sphere item.

Dallion expected the chest to be locked tight, but to his surprise it opened without issue. The mage either felt confident that no one would venture into his lab, or he had lost the chest’s key, for he had filled it with aether cubes the size of a man’s fist without any safeguards. A single of the cubes was a veritable fortune. The magic coming from the chest’s contents was massive, making their way into the room itself.

“This woke you up, didn’t it?” Dallion asked, closing the chest again.

This was definitely a first. He had seen a lot of weird things in ruins as a hunter, but this was the first time he’d come across anyone digging their way into a shardfly hive. The creatures had probably been in hibernation for centuries, surviving on a constant diet of low magic that was abundant in the area. That had changed when the mage had created another room and brought a strong source of magic.

Yeah, the shardfly replied. It feels more comfortable in the other room.

Dallion sighed. He could see the issue. It was both simpler and more complicated than he had hoped. Whether or not the structural integrity of the building would be compromised should the shardflies leave was beside the issue. Based on the emotions emanating from everywhere in the room, it was clear that the creatures had no desire to leave. No doubt the mage had tried to force them out, resulting in an appropriate response. Getting the insects back to their nest would be difficult, if not outright impossible.

Once again, Dallion faced a choice. At his current level, he stood a good chance of killing off the shardflies, thus solving the mage’s problem. The prospect terrified him almost as much as the ease with which he considered it.

“What will you do if the sources of magic are removed?” Dallion asked.

You’d steal them? The shardfly flicked its wings menacingly.

“Someone will.”

The creature hesitated, pondering the question. Clearly, there wasn’t a simple answer as far as it was concerned.

“What if the mage puts the magic you like in your nest, then seals it off? That way everyone’s happy.” Dallion paused for a few seconds. “You can tell what I’m capable of. I’d really not fight you, but if you don’t want to leave or get back to your hive…”

The shardfly briskly flew off his shoulder, moving away. Hundreds of more did the same, bearing the wall that separated the two rooms.

“As I said, I don’t want to do that unless I have to.” Dallion stressed, as he picked up the chest. “Which of the magic do you like?” Still combat splitting, he returned back to the main part of the cellar. Upon reaching the middle, he put the chest down. “I’ll carry them for you.”

The sensation of curiosity and calm that emanated from the shardflies transformed into fear. None of them were willing to enter into a fight they had no prospect of winning. Their species had behaved the same way in the wilderness. The reason why Ruby and the rest of the ruby shardflies had agreed to join Dallion was because they had determined his strength. If that hadn’t been the case, they’d have attacked, or at best ignored, him. These ones here, while considerably more numerous, were a lot weaker.

For several long seconds Dallion stood still, waiting to see whether they fight or submit to his request. Some of them flew in the direction of the smaller room. The few became a trickle, then a flood. Layers of shardflies stacked one over the other, causing the room to shrink.

“What do you want me to put in there?” Dallion asked, letting out a mental sigh of relief.

These , the light green shardfly said, landing on a shelf of potions. Everything here.

There was no telling how expensive the potions were, though given the intensity of the magic within them, Dallion could assume they were worth a pretty penny. Even so, he assumed that it was better than not having access to the entire cellar.

With each flask he put in the room, the shardflies’ fears seemed to decrease. After placing the final one, the creatures sealed off their end of the entrance. Despite the truce, they had no intention of allowing Dallion in the nest.

That was a bit extreme, Nil said.

“It worked, didn’t it? Besides, it’s better than the alternatives.”

Even so, don’t automatically resort to using the stick. It has a tendency to get easier every time.

Dallion took one final look at the room, then made his way up the stairwell to give an explanation to the mage. The loss of a few dozen potions, not to mention a whole room, was hardly the best news. Hopefully, the man would understand the situation.

The mage’s chamber was located in the building’s attic. Unlike most of the other potion makers, he was the type who preferred to work alone, isolated from everyone else. Dallion suspected that to be the reason he had no power whatsoever when it came to Academy matters. The little influence was entirely due to the potion making.

On the way, Dallion glanced at the work area of the building. Apprentices were rushing to and fro tending to stills and other equipment involved in the process. None of them even noticed him, or cared for that matter.

Arriving at the door, Dallion took a deep breath and knocked.

“Yes?” a deep voice said from inside, as the door opened on its own.

“I’ve solved your problem, sir,” Dallion said.

The mage was sitting at his overly large desk twenty feet away. The room was made bigger thanks to spatial symbols on the walls.

“What? Really?” The man stared, as if Dallion were an overripe tomato. “How?”

“When you expanded your cellar, you dug into a shardfly nest. A very large shardfly nest. I convinced the shardflies to get back there by offering them a few of your potions. Oh, and I took your chest out of there, so there’s no need to worry about it.”

“You gave away some of my potions?” The man stood up, his face red with rage. “Do you have any idea of the time and effort necessary to create those?!”

“Less than building a new lab, I’d say?” Dallion struggled not to cross his arms. To be honest, even his sarcasm was a bit heavy, considering his current status. “That was the only option without things escalating to a fight, sir. If that had happened, you’d have lost everything.”

Just to be on the safe side, Dallion used his music skills to add a lot of calm and joy to his words. This wasn’t something he would have dared against one of the stronger mages, but this one didn’t look like someone who’d catch the interference. A few seconds later, the man calmed down, the color of his face returning to normal.

“I’d seal off the entrance you’ve made,” Dallion continued. “Just in case.”

“Hmm. Just a few potions, you said?”

“A few dozen. A lot less that you could have lost.”

The mage’s left-hand fingers danced through the air. His symbol making was fast and elegant, completing the spell in seconds. Dallion managed to recognize the symbol for space, when suddenly the room contracted, as if the door was pulled to a foot from the desk.

“I’m not paying you a thing,” the mage said with suppressed bitterness. “With the potions you’ve cost me, consider yourself lucky I’m not telling your instructors about this!”

Don’t worry, he won’t dare, Nil said. If he could have done something, he would have already.

“I understand.” Dallion pursed his lips. “Yet, not paying one hunter is the same as not paying all. I doubt this incident will cause hunters to stop taking Academy tasks, at least not right away. However, it would be an unhealthy precedent to have, especially since you dragged me to take care of your problem. I might be an apprentice, but when doing hunter jobs, standard rates and conditions apply. Unless I decide differently.”

A glint of fear emerged in the mage’s eyes. He opened his mouth to argue, but quickly closed it again.

He’s smarter than he looks, Dallion thought.

There are no stupid mages, dear boy. Just arrogant ones.

“You saved the chest, right?” the man asked, seeking for a way to save face. “Nothing’s missing from it?”

“The aether cubes are all there.”

There was still a large amount of reluctance emanating from the mage.

“You don’t have to pay me in gold, sir.” Not that it was a lot. “Knowledge would work just as well.”

“Knowledge?” The mag narrowed his eyes.

“Anything that will help me become a better mage.”

The mage’s fingers danced through the air again. This time, the spell caused a small booklet to appear in his hand. Looking at it, Dallion saw “Basics of Potion Making” written on the cover. It was unclear how valuable the book was—likely not particularly much since it had the word “basics” in the title. The one main advantage was that Dallion was able to read it.

“Here.” The mage tossed the booklet at Dallion’s face.

Faster than the human eye, Dallion caught the book inches from his face. This was the first time a client had resented him so much—possibly with the exception of Countess Priscord. Every fiber in Dallion’s body told him that he might have problems further down the line. However, this was the Academy—it was expected that he’d have problems further down the line. The trick was not to piss off the really important ones. Everything else could be amended or renegotiated.

“Thank you, sir.” Dallion smiled. “Please call me if you have any other issues with the shardflies. It’ll be less costly than calling anyone else.”

A quick spell later and the distance between Dallion and the mage had increased to a hundred feet. An interesting tactic and markedly passive-aggressive.

“I’ll be waiting for you to call me, sir,” Dallion shouted, not in the least phased. Spellcrafting started to lose its glamor, and after everything he had been through, such tricks weren’t even impressive. “Enjoy a nice day.”

The door slammed shut in front of his face. Now, there was nothing else but to go back to the library.