He aided his father in farming grain, yet the man knew that his son had a greater destiny.

So, he set his boy aside one day and proclaimed, “Lo, Legosia! Such lowly work is not your domain! Enlist yourself instead, in our Highness’ armies. Bring honour to your mother, Legosia, and bring honour to me!”

-From the 1st Chapter of “The Remont of Elneshe”

Snowflakes fell onto the tents that lined the Phasgorian camp. Most people had switched to warmer clothing, and the streets were emptier than ever of children. The bitter cold sapped away the energy of the people, all except a group of scholars, who sat in the middle of one of the fields.

Galeon sat near them on a stool, looking downwards. He had closed his jacket and worn thick socks for the day, but the cold still ate at him. When his name was called, he’d go over and help them with their experiments. Maybe he should’ve been out there fighting Ravenishtanis, but he couldn’t muster up the motivation.

This was good work, he reasoned with himself. Whatever the scholars were doing was bound to help people in the future.

“Galeon, come over here!” Egil shouted for him. Galeon rose out of the stool slowly, his arms and legs feeling tired. Am I still tired?

He cycled a flash of bewl through his body, but that only soothed the slightest of aches that had been forming. The tiredness, that never went away. But then again, hallowmancer healing had never done anything for that ailment.

He walked to Egil, crunching snow underfoot. There’s so much of it now. It felt like snow had blanketed them in the blink of an eye, or maybe Galeon just hadn’t been paying attention.

“What do you need, Egil?” Galeon asked him, irritation seeping into his tone. The scholar held up a wooden board for him and pointed at the centre.

“Place a jet here,” the scholar said. His wiry grey hair twitched in anticipation.

“They’re all in use, Egil, remember?” Galeon reminded.

“Never mind the cart project just remove one from there and place it here instead!” Egil urged him.

There was a connection between Galeon and his jets, and even now he could feel a trickle of bewl going towards maintaining them. With a thought, he released one of the jets and felt it free up in his mind. One out of six.

Then he placed a single finger to the wooden board and another sprouted there.

‘Is that enough?” Galeon asked, wanting to go back to his seat.

“Just stand right there. Vorde! Bring over the test subjects!” Egil shouted behind him. Galeon watched as a small squadron of soldiers appeared, waiting for the scholar’s command.

“You there! Come over here!” Egil shouted at one of them. He hurried on over and stood over the board.

“Place your hand to the jet,” Egil ordered, and the soldier obeyed, although reluctantly.

“Now, try to feel the energy within it. Can you sense it? Shift it even?” Egil asked him. After a long while where the soldier kept his eyes closed, he shook his head.

“Bah! You’re useless. Bring the next one!” Egil shouted over, waving away the current soldier. More tests like this continued, and each soldier failed just like the last.

“What are you trying to do, Egil?” Galeon asked him.

“Something in the Elneshi King’s notes intrigued me. His general had a sword that bore jets. I don’t suppose an Afterburner was there maintaining those all the time, considering the Remont could activate its powers at will,” Egil explained.

“He could’ve been a hallowmancer?” Galeon reasoned.

“But then why would the King need to look at it. There’s more to it, and I’ve got a hunch about what,” Egil replied.

Almost thirty soldiers came and went, and only at the last one did Egil get a response.

“I can feel something…” the soldier said.

‘What? How does it feel?” Egil asked him.

“Like… Like I can reach out to it. What if I just…” the soldier did, flexing the muscle of his arms.

Galeon looked down at his jet, but nothing had changed in the composition.

“Galeon, can you feel it?” Egil asked.

To him, the connection felt the same as ever, so Galeon shook his head.

“Nothing’s different.”

Then Galeon tried to send a bit of bewl through to the jet. But something felt wrong. Like a clogged pipe. He quirked an eyebrow up and freed more bewl, yet the jet still didn’t alight.

Was he low on bewl? But he could still feel it in his veins. Galeon tried with all his might to push against the jet, but nothing came out of it.

“What did you do to it?” Galeon asked, turning towards the soldier.

“N-nothing. I just felt like it could be changed,” the soldier said.

“Tell me, Galeon, what’s wrong?” Egil asked him.

“I can’t feel it. There’s something stopping me from sending bewl to the jet. It’s like it doesn’t want to listen to me,” Galeon told him.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

It should’ve been horrifying having his jets uncontrollable, but Egil just smiled a wide-toothed grin. The scholar seemed to be enjoying this!

“Oho, this is a great discovery! You!” he pointed at the soldier, “You’re going to be staying with me for the rest of the day until we figure out what you can do. The rest can go back to their barracks,” Egil ended, barely glancing at the other soldiers.

The one who’d bound his jet looked at his hands like he was hallowed himself, and Galeon felt a twang of jealousy.

After a few moments, his jet finally retracted and Galeon felt whole again. He walked back to his sitting station, but something poked against him from his pockets.

He shuffled around in them and a purple tassel came out. Galeon clicked his tongue in annoyance. How long ago had it been since he’d bought it. Idly, he threw it away as he watched the scholars at work. It was buried under a mound of snow soon after, yet the Afterburner did not care.

Egil called him and other Afterburners over for a few more experiments. Each time the soldier would bind their jets, they wouldn’t be able to retract it for a while after. But after a certain amount of time, he could no longer do it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Egil asked, annoyed.

“I feel wrung out,” he said, rubbing his arms. On a hunch, Galeon threw a bewllan crystal at him.

“Try drinking that,” Galeon told him. the soldier focused on the crystal, and the colour seemed to drain out of him.

“Hallowmancer…” whispered some of the other Afterburners. But it didn’t seem apt to Galeon. The soldier had only bound a few jets before running out. If this was hallowmancy, it was certainly a weak form of it.

“We’ll need to send a report to the king. Vorde, start drafting one up!” Egil shouted over the small crowd that had gathered around them.

The crowd dispersed and Galeon was left by himself. He was about to head back to his chair, or to his barracks, but someone stopped him.

“Boy, come here,” Egil told him. he didn’t look at Galeon, but the young Afterburner still obeyed.

“What else do you need, Egil?” Galeon asked him.

“I was wondering what you needed, really? How was the work today?” Egil replied.

“Alright,” Galeon shrugged.

“You think you’d be suited to it?”

“If I had to do it.”

Egil cleared his throat.

“I could have you transferred permanently; you know? Heard what happened with your… friends,” Egil said with an awkward tone. It was a nice offer, and Galeon gave him a slight smile.

“It’s appreciated, Egil, but I’ll be fine,” Galeon replied, moving away quickly so as the scholar couldn’t stop him.

He walked through the snowfall, his nose runny and mind listless. Though he wanted nothing more than to head to his barracks, that wouldn’t be happening. Standing in the snow in front of his barracks, red eyed and quiet, was Noviselle.

“Hey, Galeon,” she said, her voice quaking. Galeon went in for a hug, and a few tears loosened from his eyes. He wiped them away just as quickly, and let go of Noviselle.

He felt like he should be close to her at all times. If Emile and Isil could be taken away from him so easily, then what was preventing someone from taking Noviselle as well?

“How was the work?” she asked with a casual tone.

“E-Egil… I think he might’ve made a major scientific discovery,” Galeon chuckled. Noviselle joined, but their mirth soon faded.

“Leane, is she…” Galeon let the question hang in the air.

“She’s fine. She’s been absent an awful lot though, cooped up in the king’s stronghold all the time,” Noviselle replied.

“That’s good. She’d be safe there,” Galeon said.

“I finally understand why you stay away from your barracks so much,” Noviselle said, pointing behind her. “Stinks like a pigsty.”

“Have you ever been near a pigsty?” Galeon asked.

“A Countess wouldn’t be caught dead there. The news would reach the King’s ears in a day!” Noviselle joked, which was unlike her. Galeon began the notes of a chuckle, but stopped himself. What was there to laugh about?

Noviselle’s laugh faded and the two of them were left standing in silence.

“We should head to my offices. It’s chilly out,” she simply said, turning away and stomping off. Galeon warred between following, but finally desisted. She needed him right now, now that Isil was gone.

The trek to the offices took them a long while, and neither of them made a point of speeding up. No one was around at this time of the day, making the entire camp feel dead and abandoned.

Galeon wondered where Vilessa was, or her two friends. Her parents must’ve stopped the little girl from playing outside. Galeon remembered the ride he still owed her, but that was a promise that would remain incomplete.

Carts were lined up near houses, but with no animals guiding them. Most of those would either be inside the tents, or in large pens. No food stalls, no clothes, no one was even selling trinkets at this time of the day. The scant few faces they saw were sullen looking and malnourished.

How much longer are we going to stay?

By the time they reached the small wooden building, their shoes were covered in snow up to the ankle. Noviselle used a key to open up her office, and the two of them sat down in the chairs.

“How many times do you think you’ve entered through my windows?” Noviselle asked, looking out towards the falling snow. Her windows were frosted over and foggy, and the sides were covered in ice.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come in and left through the same door,” Galeon chuckled slightly. The last mission he’d been on, it wasn’t even taken in this office.

It was taken… in front of the Grand Duchess.

“We’re not leaving, are we?” Galeon said, hoping for an answer he couldn’t get.

“You’ve looked at the notes too, haven’t you?” Noviselle asked. Galeon lowered his head.

“It’s not in Deyfo. It’s… in the city…” Galeon said, defeated.

“Which means we have to be here as well,” Noviselle finished. She sounded just as tired as him. Galeon wondered what else she shouldered? Considering what nobles she reported to?

“Where is Lady Arelia, Novi?” Galeon asked her.

“Latren Stronghold. Apparently, she’s been vying for the position for quite a while now,” Noviselle replied.

Latren? Why does she want to be close to the ruins? Thoughts ran in Galeon’s head. But he knew the answer. It was the same thing any other Count or Baron would want. Lady Arelia wished to be the first to discover the Weapon.

“She didn’t blame you for the mission, did she?” Galeon asked her.

“Lady Arelia was actually quite understanding. Maybe she knew…” But Noviselle didn’t finish the sentence. It was no secret how close their little group was.

“That’s for the best. If the Grand Duchess can figure out the secret behind the Weapon-”

“Spear of Arneshal,” Novi corrected, almost instinctively. Galeon clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“If she can discover the Spear of Arneshal, it’ll be all the faster that we can leave… and never come back,” Galeon finished by tightening his brow. He hated this place, everything it reminded him of.

He just needed to get away from it all, and do some good elsewhere in the world.

“King Selerin isn’t happy about what happened, Galeon,” Noviselle told him.

The king? Galeon could say so much to the man, but he desisted. His Highness hadn’t done anything but warn Galeon of what was to come.

“Is His Highness managing it well?” Galeon asked.

“As well as a King could, I suppose. Some of the other Barons think we should retaliate immediately, but he’s keeping them at bay for the time being,” Noviselle replied.

Which wouldn’t be much time at all. If what he said about the dissidents was true… There was an guillotine hanging over the King’s head, set to drop at any moment.

“He sends his condolences, Galeon. To you and I both,” Noviselle said. It settled the matter for him. The Spear of Arneshal wouldn’t reveal itself, not when it hadn’t before.

“I want you to send me on any relevant missions you can find, Novi. Despite how dangerous they might be,” Galeon told her.

“Galeon, you’re no-”

“Any of them! I mean it, Novi.”

“Okay, Leon, okay,” she muttered in defeat.

He stood up to leave. A part of him almost considered jumping out of the window, but it was too much effort. The camp wasn’t going to last much longer. It was all he could do to make sure it survived until the end.