The living room was spacious, though the stacks of paper and piles of books littering every available surface made the room feel cramped. Marcus laughed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he hurried over to the largest stack. “Sorry, sorry. This project is getting away from me, it’s not due for a few months but I was trying to get it done before the quadriad started. The scope kinda blew up in my face.”

“Are you almost done?” Sieg asked, carefully stepping through the mess, leading Leif to the balcony that lined the far wall, divided from the living room by two large panels of glass. He slid one of them aside, a cool evening breeze rusting several loose bits of paper. A fog gently rolled across the island from the distant sea, coating the world in an ethereal shroud.

“Yeah, by tomorrow. Say, um. Who exactly is in our suite?”

Leif turned, reached up to his face and removed the painted mask. “It’s been a while. Good to see you, Marcus.”

Marcus screamed, falling back and knocking over a pile of books. “Wha- Who? Huh?” He gasped, his expression shifting from exhausted, to terrified, to confused, to realisation over the course of several seconds. The [Arcanist] snapped himself on the forehead, then laughed.

“Gods, Marcus. Are you okay?” Sieg asked, concerned.

“Me? Ahah, I’m fine. I just haven't slept in like, two, maybe three days. Leif, it’s you! You scared the shit out of me, unless you’re a sleep deprivation induced hallucination, then I’m just talking to myself. Sieg, are you real?”

“Should I heal him?”

“Probably.”

“I- I don’t need that.” Marcus protested, holding up his hands. “Honestly, it’s fine. I have a skill and- Oh, oh okay that feels really good. No, don't stop, thanks.”

Leif had his hand placed on the man’s shoulder, his healing washing away some, but not all of his fatigue. Healing magic wasn’t a substitute for sleep, unless someone had an exceedingly rare lightning-aspected restorative ability, one that energised as well as healed. Marcus changed second by second, as if a physical weight was being lifted off of his shoulders. He blinked, the bags under his eyes no longer as dark as before.

“So you are real?” He mumbled, then wrapped Leif in a tight hug. “We were so worried.”

Leif looked at Sieg awkwardly, the taller man just shrugging, clearing away fallen leaves from the balcony table. “It’s… It's good to see you too, Marcus.”

“What happened? I was scrying on you with one of my skills, but it suddenly stopped working. I feared the worst, you know?”

“Ah, I briefly had a skill that prevented divination skills.” The scion said, patting the sandy haired man on the back.

“You don’t have it any more?”

“I fused it with other skills a few times, and the protection against divination was slowly lost.”

Marcus clicked his tongue, then disengaged the embrace. “Well, okay then. That’s fine I suppose.”

“I would have kept the protection against divination aspect of the skill.” Sieg said. “That’s a rare effect, useful too if you want privacy.”

Leif considered that, and he had to agree. It had probably been a mistake to shift the direction of his skill away from that aspect. “Maybe. To be honest, I’m surprised your divination skill reached that far north at all? You were here on the Academy’s islands right?”

“Yeah… That’s the weird thing. I’m not sure how I pulled it off either. It just kind of worked when I tried, though the connection was pretty slippery until I got the hang of it. And I’ve been trying over the past few months, but I couldn’t get it to work. Or, not work properly, it’s complicated.”

If Leif could furrow his brows he would have, instead his frown was internal. He put back on his mask as he stepped out onto the balcony, letting healing and strengthening energies flow into the chair before sitting on it. An oddity struck him, a distant memory from a week after they had escaped from the mythhold together. Curious, he analysed Marcus.

Combat Experience: Lesser!

Age: Older!

Error! Target Invalid!

Error! Target Invalid!

Leif stared at the error messages that populated the system windows that had appeared before him. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Both Marcus and Sieg said at the same time.

“It’s the… Do you remember back during the expedition, how when I analysed you it came up with several error messages?”

“Um, yeah. I think so, wasn’t that after you had just advanced past the level twenty five bottleneck?” Marcus said, scratching his cheek.

“Well, it’s still there. I just analysed you again.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” Sieg said, tapping his fingers on the table top. “Did you ever figure out what was causing the error messages?”

“No.” Leif said, equally confused. “But maybe… maybe it had something to do with Marcus being able to use divination on me from so far away? Perhaps it’s a connection of some sort?”

“Maybe. Stranger things have happened, or so I’ve read.” Marcus shrugged. “What information is it trying to show you anyway? The system doesn’t always function as expected, but there’s always a reason of some kind.”

“I can see that you’re older than me, apparently. And that you have less combat experience. Then there are two error lines.”

“I’m just mysterious.” The arcanist laughed. “Anyway, do you know what an thaumatic bridge matrix is?”

“I haven't got a clue.” The scion replied, looking at Sieg for help.

Sieg sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Marcus, let’s not drag anyone else into this madness. Let the project you’re working on not cause any more casualties.”

“It’s an array.” Marcus said, ignoring the northerner, a half manic expression on his face. “It’s a way to convert energy from one aspect to another, but it costs more energy to do the conversion than is practical, like, you might as well just find a source of power that is the type you need, right?”

“Right?”

“Anyway, the guy that invented it is long dead, but his theories were really popular for a few decades about a century ago. The array isn’t practical, so it was never built. But, get this, in some of the old structures on the island, there are functioning arrays that use the same thaumatic principles. It’s how some of the larger thaumatic mechanisms work, like the teleportation gates.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The man was waving his arms around, his excitement for the topic partially infectious. Leif got the gist, though as Marcus’s explanation descended into a complex series of terms and references he had never heard of, it became impossible to follow.

“- but we can’t crack open the ancient stonework to have a look, it might fracture the workings embedded within, which could brick the infrastructure on one, or maybe even multiple islands. But the good news is that despite the bridge matrix being thought useless, it actually utilises principles that the advanced civilisation that built this place used! The modern bridge matrix is like the inbred, poorly understood descendant of the older matrix! There’s no connection, but they’re still related, do you understand?”

A sudden realisation smacked Leif in the forehead, he rocked back, the wooden chair groaning as the magic preventing it from collapsing buckled under his movement.

“Leif? Are you okay?” Sieg asked.

“I’m- It’s okay. Marcus, it’s like you. Your explanation gave me an idea as to why the system errors when I analyse you!”

“Wah?” He said, his manic lecture crashing to a halt. “I’m not inbred.”

“What? No. That's not what I meant.”

“Okay, good. I was going to need to ask my mum some awkward questions.”

“Great.” Sieg moaned. “Now there are two conversations going over my head.”

Leif held up a hand, his eyes quickly reading over a skill he tried his best not to think about. But it made sense. It was an analysis skill.

===

Legacy:

Aspects: Enhancement (Body)*, Analysis, Social*

Your legacy endures. Those you sire are stronger, healthier and have an innate resistance to diseases.

You can instinctively identify any descendants and may analyse them if they're of equal or lower level to you, gaining a general overview of their classes, levels and attributes.

===

“It’s my [Legacy] skill. For some reason the system is trying, and failing to display your information. Your attributes, classes and levels.”

Marcus blinked dumbly at him, his jaw working but no words coming out. His stunned state let Sieg reply first. “Isn’t that the [Noble] capstone skill? The one that works on family members?”

“It is. But it only works on descendants, not just family members” Leif confirmed. “It’s strange, but I don’t see any other reason for the system to display more information than it should.”

“Uh, wouldn’t it show three error messages, not two?” Marcus pointed out, raising a finger.

“No, it would only show two.” Sieg mumbled. “It would show your classes and levels at the same time.”

“Counter argument. I’m not Leif’s descendant. I’ve met my dad, my grandparents too, none of them are, you know…”

“It’s blood magic.” Leif said, mostly to himself. “Maybe, maybe after I healed you, when you were on the verge of death after we escaped the Mythhold. It’s a stretch, but maybe…”

“Have you seen the error messages when you analysed anyone else?”

“No.” Leif said, his mind drifting back to Far-Reach. “But I haven't really been using my analysis skills, they don’t tend to be very useful. But I know who I should test first, to see if the hypothesis is correct.”

Marcus placed his elbows on the table, then sleepily rested his head down onto his arms. “Well, if you think your analysis skill is weird, you should hear this. When I couldn’t scry you any more, I tried all sorts of different methods. Get this, a few weeks ago my skill pinged something nearby, on Dimid, actually.”

The scion froze.

“When I took Sieg and went looking for it, we found the partially buried temple complex, the one they’re trying to excavate. Pretty neat, huh?”

“What-” Leif blurted, his voice cutting out in his haste to evacuate the words from his mouth. “What does that mean?”

“It means there’s another ‘amber’ something in the Academy. Maybe it’s one of your cousins or something?”

===

Roy sat alone at the head of the large table that split the dining room in half, he used a cushion to get the height he needed, his small fists clasped firmly around a knife and fork. Humming came from the kitchen, and a few moments later Melissa strode out, the elderly woman’s mouth stretching into a matronly smile as she saw him looking. He flushed as his stomach rumbled, his mouth salivating at the scents washing from the two plates of steaming food she was carrying.

“Smoked canyon ham and fried vegetables from the eastern provinces.” Melissa explained, placing both plates onto the table, then pulling out a chair for herself.

Roy held back just long enough to say his thanks, then dug into the perfectly cooked meal. He fought back tears as the flavours hit his tongue, and choked back a laugh at the crunch of the golden tuber. He hadn’t been this happy, this well fed in… forever, it felt like. It was a bit strange that he was living in someone else's house, and weirder still that that person hadn’t shown up for dinner, but he guessed that a Blade of the Academy was really busy.

He wished Lucia had come down to eat with him, but his older sister hadn’t left her room since the night before. Melissa had already delivered her dinner, and he hoped she would actually eat this time. He knew Lucia was upset, she had yelled and screamed and cried herself to sleep. When he had held her hand and asked why she had forced a smile and told him everything was okay.

But it wasn’t okay. He knew that.

Melissa made an appreciative sound as she ate her own cooking, the ageing woman’s grey hair tied up in a neat bun, her posture and table manners as perfect as his probably should be. She reminded Roy… not of his grandparents, but somebody else's. The kindly old woman from the stories Lucia had read to him back before they had needed to leave the capitol. He had always wondered why his own grandparents hadn’t been like those in the stories, but according to his sister that was because they were important people, with important things to do.

“Why are you old?” He asked through a mouthful of food. That hadn’t been what he had meant to say, so he swallowed and tried again. “Where are your grandkids?”

She smiled at him, wiping at her lips with a decorated napkin. “I never had children, dear. I always needed to focus on my duties before anything else.”

“That’s sad.” He stated, piercing a purple carrot with his fork.

“Not so. I ended up finding a daughter of my own, and I’ve followed her all over the world.”

“Why did Hera make my sister cry?”

“That… that is a harder question, dear.” She said, putting down her cutlery. “What do you think?”

Royce frowned at a pile of beans, opened his mouth, closed it again, then huffed in annoyance. “I don’t know, I don’t understand. I don’t know why our family left us behind. Why didn’t they come find us? They’re mean. I hate them.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” She chided softly.

“My grandpa wore a crown and sat on a big chair. He was stupid, he never smiled or did anything fun. He couldn’t cook.”

Melissa went to reply, when the door swung open and Hera strode in. She was frowning down at a report in her hands, her boots tracking a small amount of mud onto the wooden floor. She paused, glancing up at the dining table.

“Oh.” She said, blinking at Roy. “Hello, I didn’t… notice you. How is dinner?”

“Good.” Roy said, looking her in the eye. “Your mum is a good cook.”

Hera smiled, tucking her report away and kicking off her boots. They landed in a neat pile alongside several other pairs.

“I didn’t expect you home so soon, dear.” Melissa said, half standing from the table. “Shall I prepare something?”

“No. No, there’s no need. I already ate. Where’s Leif? Did he make it back?”

“He has not returned. Is something the matter?”

“No. Maybe. Hold on.” Hera said, running out of the room, her footfalls rapidly ascending the stairs. She returned to the dining room a minute later, her eyes still shining. “He’s with Sieg and Marcus, so he should be fine.”

“Ah, those two.” Melissa said with a knowing look at Hera. “They’re a good influence, probably.”

Hera snorted. “Apparently not. You won’t believe what Mouric said when he found me?”

“Oh dear.”

“Hmmph.”

“And what was the report you were reading?”

“The redacted… Something he, luckily, never read. Of all the Blades he’s the easiest to handle. I’m just glad Leif didn’t run into Zane, that would have been a total disaster.”