“Yo...Simos,” Aiven replied in a flat emotionless voice.

He made a hand sign for their normal greetings and Simos mirrored the same signs enthusiastically.

They had known each other since they were little and thankfully, these two were one of those few people who didn't mind his unorthodox way of communicating and even found his hand signs fun and interesting. By the time they were passed treating it as a game, they were so fluent in the hand movements that hand signs became instinctive.

“Do you know where I found him?" Delica answered for Aiven, shaking her head in exasperation, “on the Scrollworks buried on his books again, I won't be surprised if he's been skulking all throughout the blazen season.”

“For real?" Simos remarked, he fixed his eyes on his silent friend who was sitting as still as a statue, "no wonder you're so pale Aiven, you should get out more.”

By 'get out', Simos meant train more. Aven's skin prickled at the thought of having another one-on-one fight with this battle freak and he can't help but frown helplessly.

The blonde, oblivious to his plight, looked at his friend's scrawny body. It was clear to anyone wiith eyes that his small physique was not fit for combat-type, but that had never discouraged Simos to push a workable training regimen to him.

"Simos, not all problems could be answered by sparring," his sister eyed him dubiously.

"Are you sure you don't have a mind-reading skill, dear sister?" Simos replied, not denying anything, and a chill went up Aiven's spine.

"Between a statue and sword-head, I have no choice but to act as a translator, dear brother" she answered with a flourish. She tapped her wand softly into her inventory before it distorted and vanished out of her hand.

Since they were all talking about how they spent their vacation, Aiven tossed a bundle of parchments on Delica's lap. This also caught Simos' attention.

“Say, what is this? What have you been--” then she froze, whatever she was saying was left hanging as Delica's mouth gaped at the piece of tendered parchment. He tried to peer over Delica's shoulder as the girl opened the string-bound parchments.

She was gazing at the scroll--a simple, hand drawn portrait of a woman in her early twenties was etched on the surface. The lines were clean and precise. There were even gradual shadows from cheeks to jaw gave a clear depth of the beautiful face sketched on the paper.

Minimal dyes were used, but the picture itself looked stunningly vibrant. She appeared so realistically as if a memory globe was frozen by a second and dipped in inkwell.

He could tell that she was really appraising the work as her finger lightly traced the small portrait. "She looked exactly like Lady Yuusha! Kyaaaahhh! You even got her hair ornament from last years' Champion's Parade!” Delica squealed. She handled the pages as she would at a sacred relic--or a vintage artifact.

As always, anything that concerns the Hero Champion would pique Delica's interest. It came to a point that she used glamour to color her hair red, the same brunette color of the Lady, simply to show her admiration to the Lady Hero.

“I can't believe you've gotten better over the season," Simos added. He looked over at the other pieces and saw a hand drawn marionette performing at the Temple of Eight Gods. He flipped the paper and was rewarded by a sketchy draft of the bustling activity at a sweets stall selling hybrid delicacies, each corner detailing a candied sweet.

Delica on the other hand, continued leafing pages after pages from Aiven's sketches. There were even raw drafts of the conglomeration of stalls and wares from the mercantile districts, the mazes of the coinkisser's alley, laharian glassblowers, a bird's eye view of the whole city plaza with the twin fountains of dragon coils, and the massive prestigious guilds that towered over the main square.

With this, it was obvious that during the vacation, he had explored the lower districts---a place most nobles would not visit and which these two children who were born with golden spoon had always been curious about.

“Even without an established artisan's seal, these could still be worth silvers. Can I have these? Please? Please?” Delica begged with her clear doe eyes.

Without a second thought, he motioned with their normal hand gestures, ["I only do barter."]

"Hmmm, well I might just have the thing!" Delica took out a dark flask and vials from her inventory bracelet and started to brew a concoction of her own. “Unlike you two, I've spent my vacation touring the Black Kingdom of Runsaer. And take this; I even received private invitations to see the Arcana! The rumors truly understated the beauty of the Alices. Guhuhuhu, they were soo handsome~”

Simos and Aiven have been used to her 'queer' sense of taste, so the fact that she obsess over old men running a far off Kingdom that was the front of black alchemy and necromancy, didn't bothered them at all.

Compared to her constant shifts of interests, it was still considered tame. Particularly whenever they recall that time when she started collecting and differentiating black bile from various festering scarification--a hobby he's only too happy she had put passed her.

“Nee, Aiven, the Alices of Arcana are still in their second decades, talented, powerful, handsome and definitely not old!"

He grunted, not wanting to admit that Delica was right on the mark. He then slumped over his seat and stared at Simos expectantly.

Simos shrugged his shoulders, "mine was boring. I was at Kingdom of Elrhondir the whole time."

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

When Aiven widened his eyes in shock, the blonde smiled dejectedly, "I know, it was death. I visited the Temple of Hringra, Keeper of Scale and Justice. I swear, those eyeless priests wanted every bloody drop of my veins weighted in gold! I spent my whole vacation choking on incense and paying tributes, instead of finishing my geomancy. I could have perfected a golem by now!" said Simos, his hands became as animated as his voice grew in volume.

His ears perked up at the sound of earth golems. They both shared the same interests in magic so when Simos started to divulge the art of earth molding with enough simulacra to mimic human functions, he was listening intently and would bob his head in agreement at Simos' progress, despite Aiven's indifferent expression.

Delica cleared her throat, “Apologies for the wait!" Soon enough, he could feel a tiny wisp of mana as Delica activated the small contraption at the base of her flask. White smokes started to appear.

With a grace of a master alchemist, the girl started to make coffee, "see, this here is Menelik coffee," she said, picking that very moment to open the stopper and a waft of heavy scent of caffeine was sent to their nostrils, "fresh and exclusively picked by Firespite Ants. I knew you would love it…um, I mean, that is, if you want to have some."

Simos blew out a whistle, impressed, “Menelik Coffee from 121 Noctem 3rd batch Skaldi Brewery. I didn't know we still have those.”

He gulped. Aiven's face was still blank but they all knew that he had always been a glutton with how easily he could be bribed with food. A weakness, they were not ashamed to exploit.

“These are the new batch I've specifically ordered.”

“Hmm, I don't know if his acid resistance could tolerate the bug's toxin,” said Simos.

“Don't worry, it shouldn’t put his health in the red,” Delica replied with a wink.

The girl smiled brightly and handed him a mug which Aiven stared at. There was silence for a brief moment.

Unperturbed from his lack of reaction, she pulled out a couple of muffins between them which completed Delica's pitch.

“Best served with Iceberry Beanery Muffins. I've coated it with glazen white-melted mascovado so it wouldn't be that bitter, help yourself.”

She took a bite on a piece with a small contented smile on her face and readily accompanied it by a sip on her own mug. Simos also helped himself and poured his own portion of the black liquid.

He inhaled the coffee’s earthen aroma and used a light appraisal. Just as Delica had said, the item status was really that of the rare coffee beans--left to ferment on the Firespites' hive and continuously bathed in their natural bodily sap and unparalleled body heat of just the right degrees. Calling it rare was an understatement.

And as expected, his resistance triggered.

Simos won't be surprised if at the end of his second cup, Aiven's [Poison Resistance] would level up.

The three were silently and relaxingly having their second breakfast as they watched the trainees fill the arena. Somehow, the intimidating aura from Delica and Simos, drilled from tedious schooling of being a noble, was now gone and replaced by a light and calming atmosphere. The onlookers continued to gawk at the sibling's almost perfect countenance that they didn't even realized Aiven's shadow.

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It was later when Aiven asked for his sketches back.

Delica reluctantly handed it to him, but he hushed her and started to make another portrait, “Aiven, you don't have to. I was already planning to treat you coffee since you are kind of addicted to it, and I'm already happy with these.”

[“A gift,”] it was his usual hand signs, as if simply stating a fact.

But Delica still grinned gleefully and started peeking at his work, “then I want another of Lady Yuusha! With her armor!”

Aiven almost sliped his brush at the request. The Hero's armor was a Mythological-Tier, full-body equipment. The outer iron was covered with magicstones and rune engravings that enhanced every surface of the dragonforged orichalcum. The helm alone was already considered a work of elemental forging that could rival any .

Just making preliminary sketches would be amazingly painful. A common artist might commit suicide.

But he just faced ahead and took one long satisfying gulp at his mug before his brush started to move. Guided by the tiniest flicker of mana, he activated his skills.

[Base Skill: Visual Memorization]

...[Scribe...: Mapmaking]...

[.....Skill: Calligraphy]

[Scribe Skill: Drafting....]

Subtle features of a face slowly emerged from under his charcoals--three to four skills were dispelling and activating seemingly at random that the successive flow of skills were barely visible.

Granted, the passive skills were all low levels and of no importance, but even with how many times Simos had seen Aiven's mana control, the blonde could still be left speechless. If Aiven could use the same skill manipulation in the battle ring, he knew, the opponent wouldn't last long.

"Oi, Aiven, how about a match? We could go at it after training," he said.

Delica snorted, "you and your training. Just leave little Aiven alone."

Aiven simply shrugged dismissively and silently went back to work.

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