The two week journey passed all too quickly. Aja felt like she’d barely even seen the voyage, any time after her sunrise meditation was spent in the Astral Chateau. She’d read one book every few days, but from her surroundings she knew she hadn’t covered one one thousandth of even the single shelf of the library. In addition to the history and customs of N’Jarosyl — a city-state monarchy largely without cultural assimilation, instead they seemed quite eager to add new cultures, treating them almost like currency, hence why they most enthusiastically accepted an Animist — she looked into the infrastructure of the Century Chapter as well.

They operated at one level as a school where promising students of arcana could be admitted on merit or achievement as Archivists, spending half their time studying, half serving as assistants to higher ranked mages, and somehow finding time to draft their own theories or dissertations. The next rank up was the Registarum Mage, which seemed more of a ground level freelancing role. They were official representatives of the Chapter, but had no larger institution to immediately serve, usually functioning as consultants or researchers for hire. Some Registarum would remain private, working for trade guilds and the like, but most returned to the Chapter to seek advancement to the institution’s most exciting and alluring class: the Magus. These were the explorers and emissaries, traveling the world as the primary face and will of the Chapter. Above them were the Arch Casters, who occupied the political role of the Chapter, namely as advisors to world leaders with supposed impartiality. They also made up a magical congress that governed official arcane bodies, and by extension, held great influence in world affairs, under the guidance of their elected leader, the Grand Arcanan.

Aja caught herself going a couple of days without sleep, which Brexton admonished in a way she knew all too well from her father. It seemed to mean a great deal to the Magus that Aja didn’t lose too much time in this new place, and that she ate, slept and took breaks. Her father did have the tendency to put fear in a mans’ heart.

Gods, Brexton should’ve seen her father when she was a teenager.

She kept up with her old habits after reeling from the novelty. Every morning before the sun rose, she’d perch herself on the prow of the ship and feel the warmth wash over her face and her body, Nyama stirring as night morphed into day. After that, she’d go through her Nyamakola rituals — swirling, dancelike motions that moved energy around her body to balance her and keep her in touch with the world. Finally, she would work her muscles. Taking her father’s example to heart, she never went easy on herself, pulling herself up the mast with only her arms, hefting crates on her shoulders to work her back and her legs. After so much time in the constant tingle of the Astral Chateau, the burning of her muscles grounded her. But every chance she could, once she felt her self obligations fulfilled, she would retreat to the pyramid.

When reading grew tedious, she would animate the Steel Grains, create with them as she’d seen Brexton do. She proved a quick study as she was more experienced in molding earth, but the Astral Plane’s Nyama was still very new to her, so it was a challenge to refine the grain into a solid creation. She’d get close, usually starting with small huts, to rudimentary human shapes, then once she managed to create her father and Sabati’s faces in the sand. She held it as long as she could, her heart easing as her eyes tricked her into thinking she might’ve been home. But before long, the sand jittered, and the creation crumbled. It did not sadden her, however. In this place, feeling the way she did inside it, with Brexton by her side, she realized she hadn’t felt sadness in days. There was a warm contentment that the Chateau exuded, Aja suspected from some enchantment or other, as Brexton had said a calm mind was the best mind for creation.

Endless trays of chakery biscuits and tea that she willed into wine didn’t hurt either -- though she hadn’t told Brexton that she’d memorized his incantation to transmute the tea into wine just yet. That discovery could be just for her for a little while.

The final morning of their voyage, Aja did not go to the Astral Chateau. Instead, after finishing her morning meditation, she stayed on the prow of the ship, watching the faint specks on the horizon grow closer. After a while, Brexton joined her.

"No time for the Chateau today?" he pondered.

"I want to stay rooted today," Aja returned, "Like…I am studying the city."

"Well, your studiousness has proven remarkable," he gave, "If you apply as well as you have been, it should be no trouble to fit in."

"I have been thinking on that," she added, "Where do I fit in? I know I am here to advise Queen Montressa, but where within the Chapter do I fit? I am not an Archivist, but I do not have the experience of an Arch Caster either."

"This is all quite new, you understand," Brexton chewed his cheek, then clicked his tongue. "I would imagine somewhere between a Magus and a Registarum. You will be stationed in N’Jarosyl, but…"

She took her eyes off the growing shape in the distance to look at Brexton. "But…?"

"…But you will be subordinate to Arch Caster Callaghy. You are not his Archivist, you do not serve his needs, but he does outrank you in the court of the queen."

Aja pursed her lips, reflexively incensed by the label ‘subordinate,’ but bit her tongue and thought for a moment. It did seem logical, as she was in a completely new position. She earned it, but that was not the same as years of study and service. In that regard, she begrudgingly agreed it made sense. "I would be naive to expect otherwise, I suppose," she nodded, "What is Arch Caster Callaghy like?"

Brexton hesitated. "He is…ironic to N’Jarosyl," he nodded slowly, as if convincing himself, "He is brilliant, but lacks a, uh…certain openness."

"Perhaps I am not well suited to learn under him."

"You’ve adapted well so far."

"What of you?" She asked, only now realizing that as a Magus, it’s not likely Brexton would stay.

He shrugged, "Well, after getting you settled in the queen’s manor, I imagine I’ll be back on my way."

Aja’s shoulders fell a little. "You are certain you cannot stay? I feel I’ve only just gotten to know your Chateau, and if Callaghy is guarded as you say—"

"Nothing to fret over in that regard," he waved a hand reassuringly, "Any pyramid can access a mage’s Astral Chateau. As you’ve been inside mine, you can access it from Callaghy’s pyramid. After some time, and as a certified Chapter sister, you have every right to request access for scholastic pursuits."

Aja smiled. She looked back to the approaching city and her mouth then fell open. Towering ivory spires pierced the blue sky, looming over white blocks of stone buildings sprawling in every direction. Tilibulo had no shortage of structures, but most of them were freestanding wicker or clay with ample room to breathe. This place seemed like it was all part of the same web, originating from one center: an elegant white house of cascading levels, sweeping, carved stone and looming windows. The Queen’s Manor. From there, the expanding stone buildings eventually turned to clay, then from clay to wood, as the distant ring of the city formed stacks of tiered wooden homes that reached spindly legs into the ocean — the docks.

Brexton took note of her. "Show not such reverence for brick and scaffolding, Animist," he quipped, "What you do is far beyond these people’s comprehension." She glanced at him and nodded curtly, but then he too looked forward. "Hm…strange…"

"What is it?"

"There’s no welcoming party. The Queen was to send a detachment of Bladewards to meet us."

She joined him in a scan of the docks. Ships unloaded cargo, captains talked to foremen, but…nothing else. No flags, no rows of soldiers or musical accompaniment as there was when Brexton arrived in Tilibulo. Was this some kind of slight? No, Aja pushed the thought away, this was the city that asked for an Animist representative. Surely it must’ve been something else. As soon as they made port, Aja waved off the crew as they gathered her belongings.

"We’ll be back for it later," she informed.

Brexton looked at her, then the crew. "Indeed we shall."

They disembarked without ceremony, and regrettably Aja had to ignore the city’s immediate allures: markets on the docks selling fish, peddlers of potions, exotic street performers juggling torches and knives, and all new waves of Nyama bombarding her. She pushed it all out of her mind as she followed Brexton across the city’s various rings until they reached the Queen’s Manor.