Back at the academy Harlan found Mary waiting for him the moment he returned.

“Welcome back, I think that we should talk.”

“No, I think I just want to rest.”

“No, we really do need to talk.”

She locked her arm with his and Harlan found that he couldn’t budge an inch and that she was willing to drag him if need be.

Harlan found himself not in her office, but rather in her personal room.

The walls were not lined with paintings, but rather had been painted by her.

There seemed to be little order in which wall was painted with what as sad and happy and landscape and portraits all flowed into one another and even onto the ceiling.

Sculptures sat on seemingly every surface outside of a desk and a dining table fit for four at most.

“Vanilla tea? Or something more fruity?”

“Fruit, peach if you have it.”

“Of course.”

Harlan tried to reach his senses into the space in the cabinets out of sight using sound waves as Adina taught him, but he found that it was empty, even still she pulled cups, a kettle, bags of tea, and sugar cubes out anyway.

She sat down across from him and remained silent until the kettle began to scream and the tea had been poured.

“I’m sure you are wondering why you are here.”

“That’s easy, because you dragged me here and I couldn’t get away.”

She chuckled. Though Harlan was just putting on a face, he was still upset and didn’t want to be open at the moment.

“You know what I mean. Why I’ve brought you to my room instead of my office. I don’t want to speak with you as a counselor today, I want to speak with you as a friend. I saw the damage caused by that magic, and I heard what you said to that woman. I want you to just be clear, who are you?”

He cocked his head to the side.

“I don’t understand.”

“You wanted to be the merciful hero who gave up your newest creation on the same day you showed it off because you knew how afraid people were of what could happen. But with the first resistance to that, when you needed to use them to save lives, you made more monsters of blood and bone, killing over 500 men without hesitation. So tell me, which one of them are you? You can’t live your life flipflopping between these two men, one day you will just be one of them. Whether it’s because you give up on fighting, or you do something which taints your image so badly that you can never escape it. Who, are, you?”

Harlan opened his mouth and closed it many times. He wanted to answer, but his mind and heart fought a war for his thoughts.

After a few minutes of gulping like a fish out of water, he simply drank his tea.

It could’ve been 30 minutes, it could’ve been 2 days, Harlan had no way to know, his mind was somewhere else.

“I want to keep people as safe as I can without taking away all of their choices.”

“And which man does that? The killer, or the diplomat? The king, or the archmage? The drake, or the wyvern?”

“I don’t have to choose.”

“The greatest mages all have a trait in common, they know what they are and why they do what they do. Sepul is driven by his own goals, but those aren’t divorced from his past, they are a part of him.

If he suddenly became a pacifist his power would drop, his control would lower, because he wouldn’t be himself anymore. He could find a new truth, but it would still make him a different mage than before. Coronach was the same, and then he broke, and all of his new strength doesn’t mean anything compared to what he could’ve been if he stayed true to himself. Mana is alive, it is drawn to desire, it doesn’t care about good or evil, it cares about who has a strong enough will to bend reality to their desire.

The divine inspiration that mages speak about? It is nothing but mana being bent to the will of these people.

So, again. Who, are, you? Brother? Son? Craftsmen? Healer? Hero? Archmage? Ruler? Who, are, you?”

He wanted to be resolved, to just say outright, I’m a killer, but no words could escape his mouth.

Mary reached across the table, and placed his hand in hers.

“That is alright too. I wanted you to know that you need to make a choice, but it doesn’t have to be right this second. And don’t ask anyone else about this, you must be your own mage, you must have your resolve, not anyone else's.”

“How do you know about what I said to that woman who took my report?”

She sipped her tea, her hope was that he wouldn’t zero in on such a minor detail.

“I’m a bit higher up in the academy hierarchy than I let on.”

“No, that doesn’t answer it. I gave my report and came back with her, but you were already there when I arrived. There wasn’t a point where you could’ve heard the report unless you were right there.”

“A woman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Don’t deflect with a joke, I can at least respect it if you don’t want to tell me, but don’t pretend like it is a minor detail.”

“Think about what I told you. And yes, I don’t want to tell you how I know what you said.”

“Fine. I’m going to go, not sure when I’ll be back, make sure one of my family members gets this.”

Harlan tossed his ring to her.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to decide who I am, and I can’t do that here. Whenever I see the world I get angry, and then when I see how I might be able to change it, I become afraid of what I need to do. I’ll walk the frontier for a time, visit the villages, maybe do some good, maybe not. But I can’t sit here, not anymore.”

“Hirum is going to be pissed, it’ll look bad for him, and your family and friends are going to be upset if you leave without saying a word.”

“I’m not supposed to ask anyone else, right? Make my own path?”

She laughed, slowly at first, then a bit louder.

“Ah, you are so much like him. They aren’t going to send you through a gate without your ring, and your clothes are going to be too flashy for a traveler, not to mention your face.”

“I’ll change my look, shapeshift my armor, withdraw some funds and pay a private gate mage somewhere else.”

“I’ll send you to the frontier right now if you want. A solo journey is how I found my path. Time to clear your head without people knowing who you are is a good thing, it will keep you centered to see honest reactions to your actions that aren’t painted by your past.”

“Thank you. And… tell Adina that I’m sorry, and I hope she will forgive me.”

“Of course.”

A gate opened, Harlan took off his jacket, leaving it in Mary’s room.

Then, with a wave and a bow, he stepped through.

Leaves crinkled under his feet, he was on the edge of a clearing and he could see a relatively small village.

Mary said she was sending him somewhere half between the frontier and the north, not untamed wilderness, but also not quite civilization. Somewhere she knew.

His first order of business was to change his face.

It wasn’t a long process, he simply needed to make a small room in the ground and then set up a mirror so he could mold himself.

While not long, that didn’t mean it was painless. He had also added the sigils to his body by molding bumps on his bones. Harlan had learned what exactly was so important about these sigils, unlike a rune, which would activate as soon as it soaked up enough mana, sigils held mana and needed intent to produce an effect.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Harlan now looked to be a man at least 20 years of age, not overly handsome, but not ugly.

He knew that many doors would be opened just by looking a certain way, and he wanted more of a balanced view of people. On a subconscious level, he had made himself look like Ky, who he knew was born and raised in the frontier.

Black hair, dark brown eyes, features not too soft, not too hard, he looked average.

There was a relatively short process of getting used to being a little more well built with broader shoulders, but he remained at his current height of 5’10.

Any taller and he might come off as a noble, but being at such a height when already full grown wasn’t anything odd and he heard northmen were slightly taller on average.

But, the hardest part was not leaving, it was Dawn yelling at him the entire time.

“You said that you would wait until summer, you need to go back, right, now.”

“No, I need to do this.”

“You need to be with Adina, Yara, Charlotte, all of the people who you claim to support. I hope you aren’t doing this just to get out of talking with Adina about the letter.”

“Read my thoughts, tell me, do I look like I’m running away from that?”

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“Your mind is all scrambled, everything is rushing by at a mile a minute. It’s been like this since you fixed that little girl’s bear.”

“I feel fine though.”

“Don’t ask me to explain it, I’m not a mind mage.”

“So, onward I go then. Any tips?”

“No, you get to handle this shit on your own.”

Harlan blew a little bit of mud and dust on himself to make it seem as if he was actually walking instead of having been teleported right into the woods.

Before he reached the gate to the modest village he cast invisibility on his amulet, just owning one would make it clear he either was someone important, or knew someone important.

When he attempted to walk in a guard stopped him.

“Do you have any identification?”

“No.”

“Reason for visit?”

“Just traveling. I might’ve gotten a bit turned around and I’m not sure where I am now.”

“Bearfast, eastern frontier. Where are you headed to.”

“Direhold.”

“Well, you are way off then. Come on in, we have a map at the guard station, just ask and someone will point you the right way. But, you look like you could use some advice on traveling.”

“Thank you, I would appreciate it.”

“Stick to the roads, only travel at daytime, keep track of which villages are still around since the maps don’t get updated as often as they probably should. Often you are going to need to visit places that aren’t on a straight path since it is safer than trying to stay out at night. Oh, and the days are getting shorter since summer has passed, so keep that in mind and remember to pack light but wear something heavy. I think that about covers it.”

“Thank you very much, are most people this friendly out here?”

The other guard just burst out laughing.

“As my partner says, no, not really. I’m new to the frontier myself, only been a few years, and I wish someone told me all of what I just told you when I first arrived. Outsiders tend to get the cold shoulder the farther away from the cities you get. Then at the far reaches everyone is too scared of monsters to worry about people.”

“How do you know I’m an outsider?”

“You’re too clean, your hands don’t have calluses, no bags, only one weapon, light armor. Did you come here by wagon originally?”

“Yes.”

“Then you don’t know what the frontier is like. Stay safe, I hope that you find whatever you are looking for.”

“Thank you again.”

“Oh, before I let you in, I need a name.”

Harlan blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Darrath.”

“Alright, that’s all I need.”

He wanted to kick himself, but that’s where his mind went and it felt natural to say it.

Harlan repeated the name a handful of times in his head.

“Does it sound strange to you?”

No response.

“Are you really going to pout?”

“Fuck you.”

She wasn’t ready to talk just yet.

Harlan went to the guard station and found the map, Direhold was Ky’s hometown, and while he wasn’t likely to see him as the his work as a ranger would keep him away from 10 months of the year, he felt that he needed a goal, anything really, to avoid aimlessly wandering around.

Judging by the map and what the front desk worker told him, he would need to pass through a dozen or more villages and cross nearly a quarter of the frontier, heading north the entire time. If this was right, he had about 2 months to get there.

“Thank you for the help.”

“Don’t cause trouble while you are here.”

The man tapped his sword to accent his point.

Harlan realized that he barely ate anything when he was out in the woods, and what he did eat was bland deer and boar that he cooked for nothing but sustenance.

So he went to get food, and then remembered that he wasn’t carrying any money on him.

He needed better planning for next time he spontaneously moved across the entire country under a new identity.

To the adventurers guild he went.

He picked up a request from the board, orcs, always a problem since they bred like rats and were nomadic.

“I need to see your tags before I let you take the request.”

Ah, right.

Harlan took the test, betting with the woman at the front desk that he could get at least silver, and if he did, she would pay for the test on account of his lack of funds.

The man giving the test had gold tags himself.

When Harlan drew his rod in an untransformed state he laughed.

“You know you’re supposed to have the materials shaped into a sword, right?”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have a handicap.”

The man’s face turned grim and he lunged, the woman from the front desk was acting as the judge since the man had a history of either going too far or just plain being a sore loser.

It was somewhat hard to gauge his strength, because he was slow compared to the man who Harlan fought before, but he looked like he started from a higher speed to start with.

Harlan found himself disinterested in the fight, switching to a one handed style.

The clear boredom enraged the man who tried to use telekinesis to force Harlan’s rod to move.

“Oh, so you can use that as well? Here, let me show you how that is supposed to work.”

With such a large gap in skills of every kind, Harlan still couldn’t exactly force the man to take a knee, but he could force his strikes to go fast or slow, making openings in his style that were not there before.

Harlan struck lightly, he didn’t want to really harm the man, he had a bad attitude that did bother him, but that wasn’t a big deal.

After a minute of this a voice boomed out.

“Stop embarrassing my student. Jack, get out of the ring.”

The man hung his head and didn’t fight back against the Ursa guildmaster.

More often than not, they themselves were retired adventurers. Being strong was never a requirement, but they needed to be at least gold to get the position so they couldn’t get pushed around too easily.

This man however, had blackstone tags around his neck.

“You’ll get gold, want to try for something higher.”

“I know an Ursa, she would be mad at me if I didn’t at least try.”

The large black bear looking man jumped into the ring wearing rather normal, but higher quality clothing, the only armor he had was on the outside of his arms, legs, and chest, and then a back plate.

Harlan didn’t really understand why someone would leave their entire front open as it was, but adventurers were not known to be the brightest bunch.

“Jack, watch me, keep your head cool, you’ve got a long way to go. Alright little cub, let’s put on a show.”

A swipe of his armored paw sent Harlan back a few inches, but he held.

The fist that came afterwards was no slower, when Harlan tried to jump over the behemoth he jumped as well, headbutting him.

Though both of them ended up stunned in the attack.

“Gods, you are thick headed for a human.”

“Maybe you are just thin skulled?”

Both of them hobbed back to their feet and shook off the confusion.

Harlan dropped the rod, most of his experience against Bojana was hand to hand and he didn’t really want a drawn out fight, he already got gold, this was nothing but a show match as far as he was concerned.

“Got a concussion? If you can’t hold your weapon it’s a loss you know.”

Harlan breathed deep and exhaled.

His stance was small from the front, left hand outstretched to block, right cocked back end ready to strike.

The Ursa knew the stance, and he accepted the challenge, rushing forward.

Bojana had told him about this, the simplicity of the stance had a cultural meaning to them, each side had one chance to block, one to attack, it turned it into a game of close quarters combat where one wrong move meant one side was likely to take a full strength strike.

When they clashed Harlan had one thought.

That bastard cheated.

Then he crashed through the wall between the sparing area and the main hall before blasting through the front wall and into the streets.

His legs were fine, his left arm was broken, most of his ribs were only being kept in place by his muscles that were like steel.

His opponent only broke his blocking hand and a few ribs were fractured.

He took the strike head on, his hand was pushed back onto himself, and paradoxically, the hard fur meant it didn’t absorb the shock of the punch.

The normally defensive technique was used by this Ursa more for its offense.

When he heard the crash, the guard captain knew there was likely one man who was at fault, he just hoped he hadn’t painted some poor fool across the street.

What scared him however, was that the poor fool was not only alive, but he was in a laughing fit as he spit out blood and the snapping of bones meant he was healing himself.

He wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t just go back inside, then the culprit stepped out through the hole in the wall with a bleeding hand and helped the idiot up, who they repaid him with an uppercut that laid him out flat.