"Magus Pilip, rejoice. In light of your dedicated service, we are giving you another chance. Do not let Inuvik down."

Those words hung over Pilip like a dark cloud that night. Lord Hann himself had come to check on Pilip's progress, expecting Bolt to be complete the next morning. Pilip had mixed emotions – he was overjoyed at the opportunity, especially in the midst of the ongoing investigation with himself at the center, but he just wasn't ready.

It had been little over a week since he had gotten the supplies for Bolt. That had been enough time for Blade, but he was struggling with the additional complexity of Bolt. But he absolutely could not reveal that. So when Lord Hann asked if he would be ready by tomorrow, the only possible answer was "Of course, Lord Hann."

So Pilip did the only thing he could: work through the night. He was one of the Academy's longest tenured runesmiths, even if he had fallen out of favor in recent decades. Pilip was no stranger to a dedicated crunch in order to meet deadlines, but this one felt far more stressful. His very life might be riding on it. He absolutely could not afford to fail.

And so it was that a bleary-eyed Pilip met Lord Hann just before sunrise on an empty fifth floor of the Academy’s jail tower, in the same room he had been interrogated yesterday. A crimson rune softly illuminated their feet, and Pilip had to stifle a yawn as he bowed in greeting. Lord Hann examined the Chaos rune with an inscrutable look. Then he nodded, and Pilip’s anxiety melted away – he had been successful.

But he forced himself to focus a moment later. His job wasn’t done, and he couldn’t afford to let exhaustion and complacency create a mistake. He pulled out another vial of ink and an engraving tool, following behind Lord Hann as he marched up the stairs.

It was hard not to feel relieved, even with a couple more steps to go. When he and Levin were brought in for questioning, and Levin was named the primary suspect, Pilip was certain his life at Inuvik Academy was over. He had been hanging on by a thread for many years now, and this incident seemed like the one that would seal his fate. But if they were asking him to continue his work, it must mean he and Levin had been cleared of suspicion. Surely they wouldn’t be giving the highest level of Chaos to a person antagonizing the Academy.

In hindsight, he could see how they would have been brought in for questioning as a matter of course in an incident with too little evidence. He and Levin had been frequent visitors to Lethridge right before its attack, but that was merely coincidence. It was great the Academy could recognize that so quickly. And once Levin’s Chaos magic was complete, all this would be merely a blip on Pilip’s triumphant return as one of the Academy’s premier runesmiths.

He was so close now, it sent a shiver down his spine. He and Lord Hann breached the top floor where Levin was being held, coming face-to-face with two battlemage guards standing outside his door.

“That’s odd,” Pilip thought to himself. “They don’t usually have guards up here. The central rune array should be more than enough protection.”

Pilip worried he may have been wrong about their cleared guilt, but he realized his error a moment later. Levin had Chaos magic, obviously, and that meant he could ignore the runic locks that sealed the jail cells. So the guards were just a basic security measure, not anything over the top. Pilip sighed in relief; his runesmithing career was still safe.

Pilip stepped forward as Lord Hann waved his identity token, unlocking the cell door. Pilip raised his fist, bringing it down on the metal doorframe at the same time that he pushed it open.

“Wake up and greet Lord Hann, Levin!” he shouted, knocking noisily.

He saw Levin startle awake in the darkness, jolting up from the ground. Levin scrambled backwards, staring up at Pilip with wide eyes as he shivered violently, wrapped in a thin and ragged blanket. Pilip wasn’t sure if he trembled from fear or cold, but he was sympathetic either way. It must have been a frightening experience to be imprisoned here.

Well, it was no wonder he might be scared now, too. As a Wisp rank mage and runesmith, Pilip had some measure of protections even against the Academy higher-ups. But they wouldn’t hesitate to rough up Levin, a mere servant. Well, the boy could relax now.

“It’s fine, Levin. The Lords Magi wish to see your Chaos magic completed."

Levin had always been quite eager to participate in these Chaos experiments, so Pilip was certain that would cheer the boy. Besides, Levin was clever – he would likely arrive at the same conclusion Pilip had, that this decision was evidence their days as suspects was over.

But to Pilip’s surprise, Levin gasped and shrank further into the corner of his cell, the opposite of the reaction Pilip expected.

“Is something the matter?” Pilip asked with a frown.

“Master Pilip… I…”

Pilip glanced back at Lord Hann, concerned the Smoke rank would be impatient, but his Lord’s eyes were glued to Levin, as if looking for something. So he stayed focused on Levin as well.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Please don’t engrave Bolt on me,” Levin said, his voice pleading and desperate.

Pilip frowned, worried that Hann would be furious. So instead, he raised his voice in anger. “Don’t be ridiculous, boy! What makes you think we would stop?”

Pilip was nagged by the sense that something was strange, given how much of a turnaround this was in Levin’s attitude. But he was pressed much more by concerns of Hann’s reactions, and of the potential consequences Levin’s words right now could have on Pilip’s status.

Pilip marched into the cell, intending to pull Levin out himself, but Lord Hann beat him to the punch. Unlike Pilip, Lord Hann was authorized to make use of the central rune array’s handcuffs, and he used them now to jerk Levin up by his wrists and send him stumbling forward.

“Please, Master Pilip!” Levin shouted, tears flowing from his eyes. “I have Chaos Sickness! I can feel it! Bolt is going to kill me!”

Hann paused, bringing Levin to a stop right before Pilip. Pilip didn’t even need to turn back to feel Hann’s critical gaze on him. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Is this true, Magus Pilip?” Hann’s voice was even, but Pilip could sense the hidden question: “Have you been lying to us in your reports, Magus Pilip?”

“Of course not, Lord Hann!” Pilip said. He examined Levin closely, frantically. “Look! The boy’s skin doesn’t have even a single blemish, and he’s been engraved with Blade over a week! I see no reason we can’t continue with Bolt!”

“Please, Master Pilip! It’s slow, but I can feel the pain spreading through my body! Just a few more days, and I’m sure the withering will start to be visible! Please, please!”

Pilip was thoroughly sweating now. Why was Levin contradicting him like this? Why would he feel compelled to lie and antagonize all of Inuvik Academy? But then, he realized something even more incongruous with what Levin was saying.

“How would you even know that?” Pilip asked.

Then he realized his mistake. Pilip was confused because he had never described Chaos Sickness to Levin, but then he thought of the one way Levin could have found out anyways. But before he could stop Levin, the boy was already blurting out the answer.

“I’m sorry, I read the Book of Reeds when you weren’t looking! I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did! So I know that I have Chaos Sickness, and I can’t survive Bolt!”

Pilip groaned internally.

“You let a servant touch the Book of Reeds?” Hann asked. His level voice had become twinged with anger.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

So, in turn, Pilip became enraged. How dare Levin? “Impertinent brat!” Pilip shouted, stepping up to him. Did he realize how much he was endangering Pilip’s future?

Pilip swung, backhanding Levin across the chin. But in his anger he used too much power, and the boy immediately fell unconscious, falling to his knees and dangling limply by the runic handcuffs.

Pilip’s anger turned to panic, and he immediately checked Levin’s pulse. But to his relief, the boy was still alive and breathing. The experiment could continue. Head clouded by a mix of emotions, he turned back to Lord Hann and bowed, unable to look at the man’s inscrutable, judging face.

“We’ll discuss this later, Magus Pilip. But even if he does have Chaos Sickness, it matters little. The Chimeras of the Lillwu Clan will certainly be getting to him first,” Hann said.

“Yes, Lord Hann,” Pilip replied by reflex.

Then he started. They were shipping him off to fight the Great Clans already? He hadn’t heard anything of that. Then again, it did make sense now that Silla was hopefully gone for good. But Hann’s wording made it sound like he was being sent to die more than fight.

Wait, were they executing him? On account of his crimes? Pilip wasn’t sure, and that doubt threw into question his assumption that he and Levin had been cleared of guilt. And suddenly, the only thing he was sure of was his anger towards the unconscious Levin.

But he still had work to complete. It was only thanks to his experience as a runesmith that Pilip’s hand could remain still while his mind was so far from calm.

***

Though the largest percent of the population of Trurok lived within Inuvik City, many smaller towns lay scattered about through the most fertile parts of the large valley, some of which had grown quite successful in their own right. One of these towns had become known as ‘Knight’s Crossing’ for its industry of weapons trading and production that rivaled even Inuvik City. It was in this city that a large stir was raised after one of the most well-renowned blacksmiths suddenly closed their doors.

It wasn’t unusual for a shop to close temporarily, but the timing this time was particularly bad. Trurok was on edge as the mage powers left in Silla’s wake geared up for war, and now a weapons manufacturer was behaving strangely. Rumors abounded.

Most concerning of all was the complete silence coming from the store. Even closed, the distinctive ring of metal striking metal should still be faintly audible from outside – if its inhabitants were still at work. But as it was, it seemed possible Goro and his children had abandoned Knight’s Crossing.

No one was foolish enough to try breaking into the place over mere rumors. But should any of the nervous yet curious townspeople see what lay within the shop, a sight surpassing the hearsay would lay before them. Because this smithy’s walls, adorned with quality weapons just days ago, now lay completely bare!

And in contrast to many of the rumors, Goro and his children were still very much hard at work inside. But their usual hammers and anvils had been set aside, replaced by a set of pliers and a gemstone drill.

Takt had assured Goro that his supply of weapons would be sufficient to equip every one of their new soldiers. “Of course they are,” he had thought with pride as the weapons he had stashed away over several decades were hauled out of the secret basement. And since they had enough basic weapons, Goro could now focus his attention on a very special project.

Several bags worth of dragon scales. There was no way a craftsman like Goro could set his eyes on such a sight and not feel his blood boil with excitement. An ordinary man like him could never hope to acquire a resource that even mages would kill for, and that just made him determined to create a masterpiece with them.

He had given his two idiot sons the easy part, shaping iron rings and looping them through the dragon scales. They were novices at crafting scalemail armor, but the technique was more time-consuming than difficult. It was Goro’s job to punch the small holes at just the right spot on each scale, a task that required a master’s touch.

And, well, he called his sons idiots, but that was just to toughen them up. They were clumsy and needed to know it, but Goro had been clumsier at their age. He smiled as he watched them compete to see who could work faster, but neither let it compromise the work. Just as he had raised them to.

He could scarcely imagine that the ones he made this armor for were barely older than his own boys. And soon enough they would be fighting the toughest foes Trurok had to offer, all for the sake of families like his. He and Takt had dedicated their lives aiding in Trurok’s resistance, walking a path that had claimed the life of Goro’s wife. But now that long fight may finally be coming to an end.

Even little Fusa, his youngest child and only daughter, was finding a way to contribute. She was still too young and small to be taught blacksmithing, but had a natural affinity for wood carving. When Levin had visited with Cho he had recognized this, and now Fusa was spending her time cutting into thin slips of wood, carving a dense and complicated pattern according to Levin’s directions.

If his wife, the children’s mother, could watch them all contributing to the fight for freedom now, and just how close they were to the final battles…

Goro shook his head, clearing away stray thoughts. He couldn’t let his own work become compromised either. If there was ever a time to focus on the here and now, it was in these precious moments.

It was a delicate process to heat the scale up to just the right temperature, and then gently poke a hole in it with all his power. Even weakened by heat, these dragon scales were made of such incredible material that it took his finest diamond drill bit and all his strength to punch through them. And if his technique was off by even a little, the entire scale could shatter. Perfectly controlling his form while fully exerting his muscles strained Goro to his limits.

Each tiny scale, one amongst thousands, was a precious treasure unto itself – he would not permit himself to make even a single mistake. Breaking even a single piece would mean leaving a critical vulnerability to harm those five young men and women fighting for everyone’s freedom.

Goro pierced another scale, then cooled it in water. He would repeat the process countless times, until his magnum opus was complete.

***

Levin awoke in a foggy daze. His first coherent thought was simple surprise at still being alive. His senses came slowly, along with a stabbing pain throughout his whole body, and Levin eventually realized that he was in motion. He could hear the clop of horses, but they were subdued by the wooden room Levin lay in, through which he could feel the bumps and divots as they bounced over a dirt road below.

He peeled his eyes open groggily, but there was little to see. He could tell he was in a carriage, but the curtains had been drawn shut and only the faintest stream of light was trickling in through the sides. He tried to sit up, but was immediately impeded, pulled back to the ground.

Levin looked down, finding a pair of steel manacles fastened to his wrists and ankles, attached by a chain to the floor of the carriage where a seat would normally be. There was enough slack for him to sit up, but the simple weight of the metal was keeping his body firmly anchored to the floor, and Levin realized with despair his body had no strength.

“Oh? You’re awake?”

A voice jolted Levin further from his stupor, and he looked up to find a man across from him, resting on a cushioned seat. The same man that had been simply standing there after the last time Levin was knocked unconscious. He wasn’t too surprised to see him.

“Are you ready to answer our questions now?” Kodan asked.

“I’ve – “ Levin coughed as he tried to choke out the words through a trembling jaw. “I have nothing to say.”

“Is that right? Because you’re going to be executed in a few days if you keep it up.”

“What!?” Levin thought, jolting up. He forced his aching body to move, prying himself from the floor and into a sitting position. The chains at his wrist rattled as he moved, but he managed to succeed in lifting his arms and depositing the metal restraints in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“That got your attention, didn’t it? It’s as I said. You can talk, or you can die. And if you want to die, you get the privilege of being tossed into a Chimera pit and eaten alive.”

Levin shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. He engaged his Y-Link and reached out to Cho, intending to keep Uki and Mei informed of his situation.

But there was no response from Cho. He couldn’t connect to his bird at all. Cho should have come back in range after flying out to Uki and Mei – he had programmed the route to return to him, as always. And yet Cho was still out of range.

It could only mean that something had disrupted Cho. If Levin was lucky, the damaged wing had caused it to crash in the Mage Hunter’s underground base, and Mei was bringing it back to Levin at that very moment.

But if he was unlucky, Cho could be flying in the wrong direction. If the damage wing had messed with its calibration, the bird would end up circling the planet endlessly until it broke down and crashed. In that situation, the odds of Cho ever entering Levin’s range again were infinitesimally small.

And in the worst case, Cho never even made it to Uki or Mei. His message was never delivered, and none of the Mage Hunters had the faintest inkling that Levin was now a prisoner of Inuvik Academy on his way to execution. If that were the case, then Levin was already dead.

“I should never have let Cho leave my range with that damaged wing,” Levin thought in anger. But there was nothing he could do about it now. And he had needed – still needed – to get the message out.

“Still don’t want to say anything?” Kodan said with a smirk. “No matter. This is only the first of a four day journey. You have plenty of time to think over your situation. And don’t even think of trying anything with Chaos – those shackles don’t have any magic locks to break.”

All Levin could do now was trust that Cho’s message had been delivered and Mei was coming to rescue him. He absolutely could not let himself linger on the possibility no help was coming. Levin tried as hard as he could to shut those thoughts from his mind, trying to concentrate on the simulations for the central rune array still running through his Y-Link.

…But if he sold out the Mage Hunters, would it give him a chance to live?