“So, this is the one you finally decide to take as your apprentice?” One of the Nobles scoffed, “He is a disgrace.”

It had only been an hour after the Delegation had left Onigas. It would take roughly two days to reach Galmore. They would land shortly before sunset as even Azemar did not want to contend with the Monstrosities of night that called the sky their home.

Alaster had fallen asleep almost immediately after liftoff. He had started out neatly tucked into the corner of the carriage, his head leaning against the wall. Now, he was sprawled out with his head laid back against the headrest.

“Truly, is there not someone else that you might have taken on? Preferably from our own city?” Another Noble added.

Azemar simply continued reading his book, “Funny that you finally find the courage to insult my choice, when the lad is asleep.”

“Oh please! Lord Azemar, we are politicians. We fight with words, not our fists or spells.”

“In that case, you have already lost. I would suggest you stop insulting the boy.”

“And why is that? Are you threatening us?”

“Me? No. You aren’t worth the threat. Besides, if I truly cared, I would just whisper a few words in the Marquis’ ear. I am simply giving you a friendly warning.”

“The brat is sleeping, what could he do?”

Azemar sighed, finally looking up and closing his book, “Lord Nelvar, he may be young, but he is still an Expert. An Expert very experienced in survival. He might be asleep, but he is well protected.”

A few of the Nobles looked around in confusion, but Lord Nelvar only chuckled, “By what? None of his Minions are here.”

Azemar rolled his eyes and returned to his book, “Keep believing that, if it will bring you comfort. But you should know that high-tier Minions can be quite protective of their Masters. Oh, and some can be quite difficult to spot.”

Lord Nelvar became tense, activating several of his Abilities in hope of spotting the possible Minion. He looked all around the carriage, but he found nothing. The middle aged man calmed down, thinking the Elder had simply given him a fruitless warning.

The Lord had neglected to look at his own shadow, where two Shadow Assassins held their daggers mere centimeters away from the man’s heart and throat.

They only restrained themselves, despite their desire, due to their Master’s strict instruction, to only defend him and not act on their own.

Alaster silently adjusted in his sleep, immediately drawing the Nobles’ attention, but he remained asleep, unaware of the blood so close to being shed.

* * * * *

When Alaster woke, the pain in his soul was lessened, though only just. Before he opened his eyes, he took account of the Shadow Assassins as well as what he could see in the [Seeker Sight] radius. They were still flying, though by the look of it, they were descending, and the Nobles were preparing to depart.

Strangely, the Shadows seemed to be glaring at one of the Nobles in particular.

Alaster dismissed it and simply opened his eyes and began to stretch.

The Nobles immediately noticed him moving and seemed to avoid him, as much as they could in the fairly cramped space of the carriage.

The last time Alaster had been in the flying carriage, just before being kicked out over Onigas, the carriage had seemed like it had plenty of space. But eight Nobles, Azemar, and Alaster himself filled the space. Luckily, there were plenty of seats. The carriage had been fitted with booths in preparation for the Delegation.

Alaster spotted Azemar in the corner opposite him, calmly reading a book. Alaster wanted to speak with his new teacher, wondering just what he would be teaching him, but the feeling he got was that Azemar did not like being interrupted while he was reading.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

That was something Alaster understood.

The light peaking through the four small windows revealed the setting sun. The carriages were descending, though not in any sort of hurry. Instead, Alaster sat back down after stretching and began to work on creating another Dread Knight.

At this point, Alaster had enough practice with the Dread Knight pattern that he was confident he could create at least one before they landed. Having already made the pattern, all Alaster had to do was ensure the Mana he fed into the Spell traveled through the Streams in the correct way.

It was tedious, but necessary. Mana preferred to go its own way. It was not at all difficult for Alaster to adjust it, but it was constant, and a single mistake risked the entire Spell falling apart.

They must have been either much higher, or descending a lot slower than Alaster suspected, because he was able to create four more Dread Knights before the carriage gently rocked as it touched ground.

The Nobles quickly left the carriage, likely not used to being in such a confined situation. Alaster stayed as he finished the pattern for the fifth Dread Knight. Once he finished, he opened his eyes and found that he was the last one in the carriage.

Alaster sent his Shadows out scouting and left the carriage with the Pact Halberd forming in his hand.

The guards had already begun to set up camp while the Nobles stood around talking to each other.

‘Useless as ever.’ Alaster scoffed.

‘Don’t underestimate them. They might not be doing the physical grunt work, but they are keeping an active eye on their surroundings, allowing their guards to work without worry.’ Sedall chastised.

‘Look closer Alaster. Each individual here is an experienced fighter. They have all had their fair share of combat.’ Belgroth commented.

‘But of course, Galmore is isolated from the rest of Humanity and is in the middle of one of the most dangerous areas accessible to us.’ Sedall boasted.

‘What are you so proud about? They trapped themselves. Hiding behind their walls in a desperate attempt to be unseen by the truly dangerous creatures.’

‘Don’t ridicule their struggle.’ Sedall said in a quiet voice.

‘What is it Sedall?’ Alaster asked as he found a spot and began to mold bone from his newly expanded Ring into a shelter for the night.

‘Before I became a Demigod, I was one of the Masters that led people to the city now called Galmore. I helped to construct and protect the settlers as they built the settlement from nothing.’

‘Why build in a place so inhospitable to your kind?’ Belgroth asked, genuinely curious.

‘Back then, the System was still figuring itself out. There were more Experts and Masters, but fewer Novices and Adepts. Those that survived the System’s influence typically grew quite powerful quickly. Most of the settlers were Experts that wanted to create their own nation.’

‘So, after they built their city, you just left?’

‘Kinda? In my defense of them, I gained enough understanding of existence that I was beginning to grasp the secrets of Demigods. I felt that if I stayed, they would slip through my fingers. So, I made sure they were settled, and left. It was another fifty years before I managed to understand the secrets and truly ascend.’

As Alaster listened to his mentor’s story, he molded the bone to create a suitable shelter. It was practically just a tent made out of bone. Long enough for Alaster to lay down comfortably and wide enough that he could lay down on either side while still leaving a two-foot pathway down the middle.

The walls were four feet tall before meeting the sloped ceiling, just in case it rained. The middle, where it was highest, was tall enough for Alaster to stand comfortably. To avoid getting wet, Alaster even made a floor of hardened bone.

Overall, it was quite heavy, not that Alaster intended to move it once it was set up. He could quite quickly disassemble it at the seams in order to store the pieces back in his Ring of Holding. While the Ring was much larger inside, the portal has only slightly become larger, only allowing objects through its five-by-five portal.

As for the furniture, Alaster did not need much. He could just as easily sleep on the ground, but why do that when he could so easily make something better?

He only made a bed. It was made out of softened and flexible bone, but it was still bone. Nowhere near as comfortable as a normal bed, but much better than the hard and rocky dirt. As an afterthought, Alaster seeped some Fire Mana into the bone bed, causing it to radiate a little heat, just enough to be comfortable without a blanket.

Finished with his shelter for the night, Alaster looked around. The guards had finished the set up and two were now cooking a large stew. Alaster noticed that while the guards were not on guard, they still positioned their tents around the Nobles’. The Nobles themselves seemed to be playing a card game among themselves.

Alaster was not interested in socializing and instead looked around until he saw his teacher sitting down in a wooden rocking chair right outside the Noble Carriage.

Alaster decided now was as good a time as any. He needed to know what he would be learning and when they could start. He was eager to finish. Eager to learn how to best dismantle his enemies. He had already learned how to do that physically and magically, now he wanted to learn how to do so mentally.

Alaster walked over to Azemar and molded his own bone stool in mere moments. Sitting down, Alaster finally asked.

“When can we begin?”

Azemar raised his head, opening his eyes, “Begin what?”

“My training?”

“Perhaps, though it would be best to wait until we return to Galmore. Your lessons will require more than simple lectures.”

“And what will my lessons be about?”

“Why, how to be a Noble, of course.”