Four of the seven chairs around the table were occupied, the hooded people had convened for yet another secret meeting.

The woman in charge let her hair down, it was the only visible feature, her long red hair, which was nearly gleaming, looked as smooth as silk.

Beside her, the same woman had just taken her place, her report about the progress of their contestant for the upcoming competition was a vivid memory in their minds, a truly important topic.

Two of the men from the previous meeting had gathered as well, and without further ado, the meeting had begun.

“Where are the rest?” one of the men spoke while impatiently tapping his finger on the table.

“They are… preoccupied.” the second man answered.

“Again? Is our gathering just a joke in their eyes? If it was up to me, I’d-”

“Simon.” the man’s monologue got cut short by the red-haired woman.

Though she only called out his name, he immediately went quiet, in fact, the atmosphere in the entire room changed.

“Their presence isn’t necessary, everyone that I required has been invited, and came.” she said as her eyes scanned through the room, shortly stopping on the members in attendance, before moving on to the next.

“Charles.” she said, her gaze finally arriving on the last of the members there.

The man nodded in response, then cleared his throat before speaking.

“As you know, I have been put in charge of reconnaissance, especially regarding Aventia and the competition as of late.” he began, and the others silently showed their understanding.

“And as I reported during one of our previous gatherings: I have lost contact with our agent within the borders of Aventia. His name is Hodwan.”

“That general who… ‘fell from grace’?” the second woman interrupted with a quick question.

“Yes, that one. I employed him in hopes that he would strive to regain his honour, but for unknown reasons, he has stopped interacting with our messengers.” Charles continued.

“Though I have attempted to locate him, these searches have yet to show any results. It is nigh impossible to find him without a dedicated search-party, however larger groups like that are bound to catch Aventia’s attention.”

“What are the chances that this man has abandoned his loyalty to us?” the red-haired woman interjected, causing Charles’ heart to stir.

“I cannot say. It would be no exaggeration to say that Hodwan is… eccentric. Though I would like to say it’s impossible, he is a man of such flippant actions.”

“This agent of yours holds too much information. Could his disappearance mean that he has already been captured, or worse, started collaborating?” Simon voiced his own thoughts after being given a brief window to speak.

“My agents aren’t your run-of-the-mill type. They are chosen after careful consideration and training. Their tongues aren’t loose either!” Charles glared at Simon, the man’s remark scraping on his pride.

The woman in charge lifted her hand, silencing the two and their brewing quarrel.

“Those are valid worries, ones that I share. Charles. I permit your search-party. Find this man and bring him back. I don’t care whether he is dead or alive, just make sure you know how much he divulged beforehand.” she ordered, and Charles bowed in response, his head nearly reaching the surface of the table.

Then the red-haired woman turned her head to look at the remaining mysterious woman.

“An inheritance has been located near the Land of Fog. Silvana, have your daughter take charge in recovering it. I assume it will be helpful to her growth.”

“Thank you for your generosity. I promise that her results in the competition will be satisfying!” Silvana showed a wide grin.

… …

Almost a full week had passed, Cykrus was pacing from one end of the basement to the other.

After each cycle he would glance down the hall of the treasury before repeating.

“Could you stop? You are making me uneasy.” Agnes finally spoke up.

“Can you blame me? The boy we have placed our hopes onto hasn’t left that damn room for almost seven days. No food nor water. He could be dead for all we know!” Cykrus was waving his hands in the air, trying to convey just how serious this situation was.

“I get it, but don’t you think he would just leave the room if he was thirsty or hungry?” she just shrugged in return.

He felt incredibly ridiculous, of course he too thought about that, but Frey’s behaviour was more than just odd, unlike anything he had ever shown to them.

At the same time, within the closed off room, a lone light source served to illuminate that very boy.

His breathing was loud and rough, his stomach already showing signs of shrinking inwards, and his skin had an unhealthy pale tone.

And yet his eyes were glued to the tome in front of him, like a famished predator watching his next prey.

Frey’s lips and tongue moved without making a sound, as if he was speaking words without truly uttering them.

The characters that made up the rune in front of him were perfectly still, however in his eyes they moved, danced in the air even.

Like a hallucination, just extremely vivid.

His brain was tingling all over, the longer he looked at the rune, the more he understood, the fiercer the tingling became.

Frey’s head was getting warmer by the moment, the tingling turned into a fiery sensation, the contents of the rune practically burning themselves into his mind.

Instead of pain, he could only feel pleasure, his fingers began to twitch from his excitement.

He had lost track of time soon after entering the room, there had merely existed a theory inside of his mind, but at this point he became aware of his success.

A smile bloomed on his face; he had successfully turned that eventuality into reality.

Another hour passed before a noise from down the hall of the treasury caught Agnes’ and Cykrus’ attention.

The door to the inheritance had opened, revealing a thin figure, which came stumbling out.

Cykrus didn’t waste another moment, immediately sprinting towards the frail-looking Frey, just in time to stop him from tumbling towards the floor.

The boy was lying motionlessly in his arms, his eyes closed, the rough breathing was only one of the many things Cykrus noticed about him.

“A fever?” he mumbled as Agnes stopped next to the two.

“He doesn’t look well… at all. Is there anything I can do?” she asked, hoping to be of some use, but Cykrus merely shook his head.

He respected her for being the powerful mage she was, but she had few useful skills beyond that, first aid or healing certainly not among them.

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“Wait! Healing… no, I don’t want to be indebted to him of all people…” a solution popped up in his mind, but he tried to wipe it away the next second.

“Hm? You mean the church?” Agnes inquired, but she was met with an awkward smile.

“Yeah, no, I get it.” she nodded after remembering how she had stolen Priest Simerlin’s horse quite some time ago.

“Let’s first get him out of the basement, into a comfortable bed, along with some water and food, then we can… uh, discuss the rest.” Cykrus spoke hurriedly, then carefully lifted Frey, and left after closing the treasury.

News of Frey’s condition had quickly caused a commotion among the palace’s staff, word travelled into the streets just as fast, and it was only a matter of time before it reached outsiders.

Agnes and Cykrus were standing at the bedside next to Frey, a wet piece of cloth resting on his head.

His condition seemed to have gotten worse, another day had passed between him exiting the inheritance chamber and now, all because Cykrus was still weighing the pros and cons of approaching Simerlin.

“Do we even have a different choice available?” Agnes asked full of concern, she had grown to like Frey, her concern was more heartfelt than what Cykrus, who only thought of Aventia’s future, felt.

“I can’t think of one…” Cykrus shook his head.

“That priest is a shrewd man. Whatever he might ask in return for his help, it will more than likely put us in a perilous situation.”

“But it is still better than risking Frey, no?” Agnes could merely voice her own opinion; the final decision lay with her lord.

… …

On the morning of the next day, various members of the church had gathered inside and around the palace.

Their spiritual leader, Priest Simerlin, had appeared in front of Cykrus as an uninvited guest at first, offering to heal Frey to help pave a safe path for the future of Aventia.

His reputation among the citizens had quickly boomed to a new height, his selflessness and seeming absence of greed caused those who had a lack of better insight to hail him as a true saint.

However, Cykrus frowned at the same man, they had just begun a private meeting.

On the surface, this meeting’s purpose was to find the root of Frey’s affliction, but those present knew that things weren’t so simple.

The priest was standing right next to Frey’s bed, his back slightly hunched to get a better view of the boy.

His signature smile was ever present, perfectly masquerading whatever thoughts were hiding underneath.

Cykrus cleared his throat, “Well?”.

“Nothing that a miracle cannot cure.” Simerlin answered after being done with his observations.

“A miracle? You mean your spells?” Agnes asked.

“The two cannot be compared, our miracles are bestowed upon us by the gods themselves!” Simerlin preached while pressing his hands together, causing Agnes to roll her eyes.

“Great. Then we can-”

“Then we can discuss my payment.” the priest finally confirmed Cykrus’ worries, the fact that he had interrupted him was the smallest problem.

“Right. You sound like you already have something in mind.” Cykrus answered.

Agnes decided to remain quiet, leaving the priest and her lord alone in the conversation.

“Indeed, although it is a shame that your apprentice is suffering the longer we drag this on, services must be properly repaid, I am sure you agree.” Simerlin spoke while showing a poor impression of a sad expression.

“I am not asking much, all that I require of you is a favour.” the priest continued.

“A favour?” Cykrus squinted his eyes.

“Correct. However, it is not a favour from ‘Cykrus Aventia’ that I seek, but a favour from the future rank three mage that you are.” Simerlin explained, causing Cykrus to recoil in shock.

“Rank three?! What is this favour about- no, why would you need a rank three mage in the first place? With the forces of the entire church at your beck and call, there shouldn’t be a case where you’d need my help, ever…” Cykrus was exasperated, drawing in sharp breaths.

“Unless…” Cykrus held his hand against his forehead.

“Correct again. I am unable to rely on the church for this ‘problem’. Working with smart people is always a pleasure.”

“An internal power-struggle then?” Cykrus asked for clarification, but Simerlin responded with his same old smile, refusing to answer.

“No… No, I don’t want to get caught up in the church’s affairs.” he refused immediately, almost causing Agnes to yelp in surprise.

“What a shame, I thought the boy was special to you, since you have been investing in him for a year now, but it seems I was wrong. I am truly curious who you are going to send to the competition in his stead.” the priest shrugged.

Cykrus clenched his fist but opened it again just a few seconds later.

Assaulting the man and having a falling out with the church was the worst possible outcome.

He could only swallow the taunting and curse the priest in his mind.

“What makes you so confident that I will reach rank three in the first place?”

“Call it intuition. There are rumours circulating, which paint you as a dangerous rank two mage. Though I have never seen you fight myself, I am capable of reading your aura and estimating.” Simerlin sized him up.

“Overblown rumours tend to die out with time, but yours has been around long enough. The fact that your little plot of land hasn’t been invaded yet can’t be attributed to just sheer luck.” he lightly shook his head.

Cykrus clenched his teeth.

He looked at the sleeping Frey, his irregular breathing and beet red face causing Cykrus to feel a light clenching sensation in his chest.

He sighed and closed his eyes, “I agree to your condition. But just so we are on the same page, if you do not return him to his peak state after all your boasting, then the deal falling through will be the least of your problems.”

“Haha, I like your confidence! A good choice. Now, allow me some space to call upon the grace of our gods, to bestow upon us a miracle of life!” the priest spoke with just a hint of fervour.

Agnes and Cykrus glanced at each other before stepping back from the bed and Simerlin.

The priest raised his hands into the air, his palms faced upwards as he began to mumble incoherent gibberish, which was oddly pleasant on the ears.

After some short minutes he turned his palm, making it face downwards at Frey, “May your kindness reach and envelop this poor child. Though he may be tainted with filthy blood, he too aspires to become a true human, following your likeness as any devout believer should.” around Simerlin’s hands formed an aura of gold, with a tint of white.

Agnes focused on the sight, Simerlin’s description of ‘miracles’ had greatly interested her.

She hoped to gleam some deeper insights by observing this glaring radiance in front of her.

The light practically appeared from thin air, Agnes’ eyes were about to pop out as she realised that the priest could cast a spell, or at least something similar, without the usage of the elemental particles in their surroundings.

Small droplets of gold trickled down from Simerlin’s hands, onto Frey.

His pale face regained some colour, his breathing grew a bit more stable, but on the flip side the priest looked to be getting more exhausted by the minute.

Simerlin suddenly began to frown.

It wasn’t due to exhaustion, but because he had noticed that his miracle’s efficacy wasn’t what he had expected earlier.

He poured and poured his gods’ grace onto Frey, but there was no qualitative change.

Not managing to keep his part of the deal was an unthinkable situation, not only would he not receive the help he had desired, but he would make a powerful enemy on top!

He gritted his teeth, his eyes turned bloodshot, all of his attention and effort was focused onto healing Frey.

Several minutes later the priest slumped down to his knees, seemingly out of energy, just shy of collapsing entirely.

Simerlin’s vision was shortly exchanged with pure darkness, but he stopped himself from falling through sheer will.

The frown had disappeared from his face, replaced by a smug smile.

“The rest will depend on him.” he said as he propped himself up.

“What are you talking about? You mean you didn’t manage to heal him?” Cykrus flared up.

“And what was that insulting prayer for?” Agnes followed suit.

The priests smile turned wry.

“The boy was not in need of healing, only assistance.” he said and lifted his hand, signalling that he would not explain any further.

However much Agnes and Cykrus wanted to interrogate the man, their attention quickly shifted at the sound of Frey grunting.

The young boy slowly opened his eyes and stretched his arms while lying down, like he had just woken up, unaware of his surroundings.

“Frey! You alright?” Agnes jumped to the bedside, reaching out her hand to test the temperature of his forehead.

Feeling that it was rather normal she sighed in relief.

“Agnes…? Where am I? Lord Cykrus!” his bewilderment was lifted as he saw the face of his lord, remembering back to his destructive actions within the palace’s garden.

“I shall take my leave.” Priest Simerlin interjected, then left by supporting himself against the wall.

Cykrus wanted to see him out personally, to make sure that he would leave without a fuss, but he felt that Frey should be his first priority.

He too walked over and lowered himself roughly to Frey’s height.

“What happened within the treasury?” he sounded patient and calm, not at all what Frey had expected.

But all of their faces lit up the moment he spoke his next words, “I did it! I understood a rune!”.

“Really?!” Cykrus clasped both of his shoulders, firmly holding onto him.

“How? What changed?” he threw out some more questions.

“I followed Agnes’ advice…” Frey said, but that only caused brows to be raised.

“My advice?” she mumbled, trying her best to remember what she had said.

“Yes, you said that I need to look at earth from a different perspective, so I did.” he answered.

“What do you mean?” Cykrus became even more curious.

“I used to think that earth was the foundation for construction, which can be true, but I completely forgot about its destructiveness. Earth can be used to build, but earthquakes destroy. Flowers bloom on fertile soil, but wilt and die on barren lands. There is not one side without the other… I realised that when I was sitting in the garden…” Frey explained.

“Hence the destruction you caused, to see earth’s different kind of state…” Cykrus finally understood.

“I am sorry.” the boy lowered his head.

“Don’t be. Those flowers may have been exotic, but even they wouldn’t survive if Aventia ceased to exist. Your growth is the most important thing.” Cykrus patted his head.

The anxiety that was consuming Frey from within eased, enough for him to finally show a smile after a long while of hard work.

“But you really do feel normal again, right?” Cykrus could not shake off that last bit of worry within him, that the priest had still somehow cheated them.

“I do.” Frey nodded, sitting up in the bed to show that he was completely healthy.

“It’s just that my head feels a bit strange, ever since I understood the rune.” he continued.

“How so?” Agnes asked.

“My head feels all tingly, and when I close my eyes and focus, it’s almost like I can see the rune in the pitch black.” Frey explained.

“That’s good. That’s normal. The tingling will stop once you become accustomed to the spell, which is what we are going to do right now… training!”