Once Evan got back home, he spent the afternoon taking a nap. In a rare moment of introspection, he realized that maybe he did have a problem – he felt a little guilty taking a nap when there was still so much left for him to do.
Part of him wanted to get out more paper and pens and start designing the lights for the building. As he had originally thought, it wouldn’t be difficult, especially with all the recent experience he had after having just finished the primary formation.
The larger part of him, though, was tired enough to rebel against that notion, and wanted nothing more than to welcome the embrace of his bed and the peacefulness of sleep.
He still didn’t think there was any real problem, though. Yes, he was tired, but he knew how to pace himself – the past couple of days were an exception, not the rule, when it came to how hard he worked.
Being so tired was unlike him – he knew when to stop. At a certain point, his mind simply no longer possessed the energy and stamina to keep working at a reasonable level, and he would retire for the night. Nobody liked working while tired, least of all him – his job was mentally draining as it was.
He let these thoughts percolate in his mind as he drifted off to sleep.
***
When he woke up later that night, he decided to head out and go get something to eat – he wasn’t a very good cook, and he didn’t enjoy doing it either. There was still a curfew, but as he looked out his small window from his cramped room, he still saw others moving about, so he figured it couldn’t be that late yet.
Besides, what was the use was wearing his uniform if he couldn’t get any benefits from it? Even if he was running close to the curfew, he figured the guard patrols would cut him some slack – he wasn’t just anybody.
He left his room, entering the common area slash kitchen, and took a good look at himself in the mirror. It had been some time since he last took a look at himself, and he wanted to make sure he still looked presentable after sleeping in his uniform.
As he stood before the mirror, he inspected himself closely. Having a mirror was an incredible privilege, but considering his station beneath Master Isaac, and his future in the military, it was essentially a necessity for looking prim and proper.
Still, he rarely used it. He didn’t recognize the face in the mirror as his own. The man before him looked professional, used to a life of wealth and authority he didn’t associate with himself.
The figure stood with a straight back, a bit of posturing he didn’t even think about anymore – his master had trained him in more than just crafting.
His height, for anyone else, was intimidating and imposing. His clothes were clean, and they could be considered pristine at any other time thanks to his own developed habits, and only the recent demands of his mana changed that. The uniform was a very slight shade of grey, adorned with a collar and was buttoned up with metal buttons that shined with a faint luster in the light of the room.
Underneath it, he was no longer in quite as good a shape as he used to be but was still slim. Rather than shrink, his body had filled out slightly, now receiving the proper nutrition it needed.
His face had a more polished look to it, as though he had shed some of the immaturity of his youth. It looked harder than it used to, and no longer gave the same carefree impression it used too.
Instead, it matched his eyes; sharp. They had a piercing quality to them that was new – no longer was he merely curious. His eyes now told a story of being piercingly inquisitive.
Perhaps he was exaggerating some of these traits when he looked at himself, as he was still quite young – only a few months past nineteen, but the man in the mirror wasn’t him.
At least, he didn’t think so – until he delved into his experiences over the past year. For such a short period of time, they had defined him more than the majority of his life had. Being an orphan wasn’t easy – far from it – but it led to proclivities in posture, attitude, and action that were far from his current self.
If before he was curious, it was of a kind that dwelled on the surface of things; different from the almost rabid fixation his current self seemed to possess. Crafting had, for a long time, been the apparent bedrock of his future, but he had never delved too deeply into the specifics – always, he had figured that would come later.
Today, he grasped knowledge like the treasure it was, and he tried to pursue his inquiries until he discovered everything available. It was why he went out of his way to make his own equipment – so that he could broaden his understanding of formations as a whole.
As an orphan, he also tended to act in such a way that he would blend in with the crowd, that tried to avoid too much attention. The current him had none of that – he was basically a beacon for attention, and he almost cringed at the thought.
It was the truth, though, and he tried to be honest with himself.
Money was his constant companion – if before he ignored most shops and stalls because he never had any money, he now considered their prices pocket change. If he wanted something, he got it, and didn’t worry about the price.
The price of most mundane goods was simply too inconsequential to the sums of silver and gold he now dealt in. In another Collapse or two, even mundane gold coins would no longer be a reasonable hard currency for his wares.
Ha! Here I am, trying to reason when I changed so much, and I’m currently heading out to a restaurant because I can’t be bothered to cook!
A dark chuckle escaped him. He couldn’t understand why he had to live in such poverty as an orphan if even a formations master at the first Collapse had so much money.
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He turned away from the mirror, running a hand through his hair – it wasn’t worth a mention, but it was indeed a little out of order after his nap. He kept it fairly short, so it only took a moment to straighten it out enough to go out.
Despite his changes, he never claimed to be concerned with his appearance. Now prepared, he grabbed a pouch of coins from his room and made his way for the door – their latest home was only a single story, as was the workshop.
Just as he reached for the door handle, though, he heard someone call out to him from behind him.
“Evan? Where are you going?” It was Illiana. She sounded surprised, and as he turned back around, he noticed she was dressed for going out as well.
Somehow, he doubted she slept in her uniform as he did.
These days, their conversations were typically quite curt, and they both seemed to have a silent agreement to avoid each other. For her to ask him this, when he was obviously going out, made him wary.
“I’m going out to get dinner before the curfew starts.” He left it at that and began turning around to leave – he was curious about what she was doing, but not enough to truly ask. They would just end up arguing.
“Could I come with you? I want to go out as well, but I don’t feel safe going by myself.” Ah, he should have expected that.
…Despite not being fond of each other, they were still fellow apprentices under Master Isaac, and while he had grown to dislike her, he didn’t truly hate her or anything so strong. He shrugged.
“I guess. Let’s go.”
She walked over to him, and together, they walked out the door to find something to eat. Maybe she would buy him dinner? For bringing her with him?
Yeah, I don’t believe it either.
Along the way, they passed several others, all of them seeming to be in a hurry to get somewhere. Once, he was even brushed past so forcefully he stumbled, and he couldn’t help but yell out to the person after he got his footing.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, bucko!” He quickly patted down his pockets and hefted his coin purse. Had he just been robbed?
“What was with that guy?” Illiana asked, and suddenly Evan found some comfort of his own in being accompanied by someone he could – begrudgingly – trust. Did they not see his uniform? It had been a long time since someone had thought to get so rough with him.
Even back in Starspire, he was tall and fit enough that most thought better of messing with him for no reason, and most pickpockets weren’t so obvious.
“I don’t know. I don’t think he stole anything off me, but let’s just keep going. Everyone out tonight almost seems suspicious.” It went unsaid that the person likely had some strength cultivation, and that neither of them did – if it came to a fight, there would be no hope of winning.
Evan had his shield with him, though he left the mobile AC at home. It didn’t activate as the person wasn’t really moving that fast when he was basically shoulder checked – they just had that much force in their movements.
He couldn’t tune it differently, either. Every day he had to move through large crowds, and while nobody usually hit him, people were brushing past him all the time – the streets were too crowded for any personal space, especially on the market street where he was working at the moment.
At least, that was the case during the day, when everyone was busily rushing to and fro, whether that be from home, to outside the walls, or to the markets.
This late in the evening, though, the streets were far less busy, and there was plenty of room for everyone to have some space. No matter how he looked at it, that person was either just an asshole, or… he didn’t know.
As they both quickened their pace to the restaurant – just this wasn’t enough to send them back home – Evan felt that familiar dread return to the pit of his stomach. He laid his hands against his shield. It was cool to the touch, and he tried to find comfort in his preparations.
What if that was a spy? What if-
“What if that was a spy?” He flinched a little – it was Illiana who had asked the question. Was it not just him?
“I… don’t know. Maybe we should head back.” While he said that, he kept moving forward, and so did Illiana. They were both spooked, but she seemed to share his thoughts – turning back after that was too much, even for him.
He kept a close eye out the rest of the way to restaurant, and he scrutinized the strangers he saw on the streets, but nothing else happened, and nothing more suspicious than everyone hurrying along took place. It seemed a little busy for this time of night, but that wasn’t too strange in and of itself – he wasn’t out this late often.
Still, when he saw the bright lights of the restaurant before them, he let out a sigh of relief. He was glad Illiana had come with him.
Never before had he appreciated the lanterns that were hung outside so much, nor the large glass windows that let them see inside, and those inside out. It looked much better in there – lively, and far safer.
They entered and were quickly shown some seats in a more private section of the restaurant – their uniforms still meant something, as did the jingling pouch of coins they had both brought.
It amused him how much more care they were shown, simply by virtue of their money and status. He liked it, and as they ordered their meals, he tried to forget about his dread.
As the night went on, he had perhaps a little more wine than he should have, as did Illiana. He found himself opening back up to her a little, and she reciprocated.
Neither of them got truly drunk, of course – they both knew better, and there was always the trip back home. Still, as the plates kept coming and their glasses stayed full, he felt he had begun to understand Illiana a little better.
“You know, it really bothers me that your magical talent is so much better than mine.” She told him, in a surprising act of openness. She had never outright said as much before.
“I mean, my talent is so much better, except for my damned regeneration. It makes me jealous, watching you practice so freely.” Pausing, she seemed to be waiting for him to say something.
It seemed to be the right thing to do, so he did. “Ah… I guess. I’ve never understood why you got so hung up on that. The rest of my talents aren’t that impressive, you know? Just-”
She almost sneered at him, her expression morphing into almost disbelief. “Not impressive? Ha!” A moment passed as she laughed long and hard.
What’s so funny?
“You,” she leveled a finger at him, “are the most talented person I’ve ever met, Evan. And I hate to say that. In crafting, you have the best talent out of any of us, and the only time I’ve ever seen you truly struggle with anything was while you were working on that building. On a primary formation.”
A primary formation? She was talking about the dynamic imbuement, of course, but what did that have to do with the primary formation? She spoke of it like it was something special, but it was truly just a means for communication throughout the building, and perhaps transportation.
On some level, he understood what she was talking about – before he had started, the primary formation seemed quite daunting, too. That was only on the surface, though. Once you got into the thick of things, while it looked and was quite complex, it wasn’t as bad as she was making it out to be. What would she even know about a primary formation, anyway?
“And that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Look at you. I can see it in your eyes. You don’t even understand what I’m saying.”
“Of course, I understand what you’re saying!” The constant dismissal was getting to him, and it wasn’t his fault nobody else seemed to work as hard as he did. “They just look so difficult because you’ve never worked on one. Once you learn the basics, they’re not that hard – their complex, yeah, but that just means it takes effort to plan one out.”
“…No, they are not, and you don’t. There is a reason it pays so well and formation master’s that work on them are so rare. I’m not going to sit here and spell it out for you so you can prop up your ego.” Illiana seemed to almost spit out the last sentence and stood. She threw some coins on the table and stormed out into the dark.