Fort Farhaven crept into view just over a week after our mission completion, around midday. The masters decided we would spend the night here, safely among the fortress soldiers, before heading back to Volaris. However, Leon, Sophia, and I would not be following them the entire way back.

The Estton family estate lay to the southwest, and we would divert our course, spending several days at home. While this had always been the plan, I felt more nervous at the thought I would have to answer to both of them within a day. After all, before our visit would have involved a quiet dinner with the Duke, followed by a few restless nights in my old bedroom. Now, it would instead mean a stern interrogation, and meting out punishments to discourage further deception.

They had already spent a small fortune on my training, and gossip around the estate told me I was not their first attempt to train an advisor, merely the most successful. All of that made me confident they would not react so harshly as to end my training altogether. But I knew there would be far more eyes on me when I returned to Volaris, and my freedom would disappear.

Add to that the minor celebrity status my actions had acquired, and the envious glares Flynn Sion directed my way, and it was a recipe for disaster brewing. With all of these factors in mind, I redoubled my training, spending every waking moment practicing telepathy, mana sensing, or tempering.

Any time not spent on those skills, I used to study the martial forms Sig sent with me, trying to memorize the moves. But even training as often as possible, I was still faced with a growing realization of my most significant limitation.

Time.

The highest barrier to growing more powerful as a mage was not talent or intelligence, but time. Increasing density of mana required having enough to condense successfully, and that, in turn, needed a core able to store the necessary mana volume. When tempering the vessels and practicing new spells were included, it was clear that there were just not enough hours in the day.

All of this explained why nobles hoarded and abused potions, pills, and other resources to smooth their path. Even an untalented fool could muddle their way through the stages and grow powerful if they had a king's ransom in supplies. There were stories of pills that could automatically compress mana or forcefully expand a core. Months of training reduced to just a few hours.

In an ideal world, my talent and hard work would be sufficient to surpass the rest of the students, but life was not that fair. I would need more supplies, better than the ones I used so far, and that meant I had to form connections to bring in gold. Luckily, Simon and his family were a near-perfect choice for buying and selling resources in the future. My current deals worked well enough, but long-term, I felt Simon would be the better option.

In the meantime, I needed to find ways to speed my training as much as possible. And that led me back to Iron Forging. The months before we left, I had practiced Origin Breathing frequently, focusing on releasing the mana and not letting my power grow but instead growing accustomed to the flow of energy.

In theory, the foundational breathing skills should help me with every cultivation method, as they all used breathing techniques as their base. I was sure this reason was exactly why Origin Breathing was the primary method taught to all mages.

And now, I finally felt comfortable attempting to practice Iron Forging.

Much like Origin Breathing, you began by inhaling and pulling mana into your body as you breathe. However, in Iron Forging, you did not exhale the energy back out through your lungs. Instead, the user sends the mana throughout their body and down their channels as they released their breath. At this same time, they retained the slightest sliver of energy in their cores, expanding their power even as they tempered.

All of this made the technique rise an entirely different level of difficulty compared to Origin Breathing. And I planned to make it even more complicated.

Nearly every mage cultivated while sitting stationary, on the ground, and with eyes closed. But would it be possible to perform a cultivation method while walking, reading, eating, or even fighting? Even if it was only a fraction as efficient, if I could cultivate during all of my classes, and use healing potions to reduce the strain, new possibilities arose.

Progressing from Vapor to Mist took at least a year, most often two to three, even with the help of resources. If I wanted to get powerful, I could not afford to take three years to progress one stage. I could use Cortos' chamber and temper fast enough to keep ahead of my cultivation, but that was not enough. I needed to progress to the next stage of training.

With all those thoughts floating in my mind, I sat up on my bed in the barracks where we would be spending the night and began practicing Iron Forging. At first, I struggled with simultaneously pushing out my mana down my channels while holding back some in my core, but after a half-hour, I had the technique comfortably down. I could make dozens of minor improvements, but my current level should be good enough for the next step.

Standing, I tried to retain the rhythm as I rose, but almost instantly, my control floundered, and the mana slipped from my grasp. Swearing, I took several minutes refocusing and soon made a second attempt at moving. Each step had to be slow and exacting, but as hours slowly passed, I found myself beginning to get the hang of it. The method was agonizingly slow at around one-fifth the speed of Origin Breathing, but I hoped that would improve as I practiced.

Sighing, I rose and walked from the barracks, moving throughout the hallways while maintaining my breathing. While it usually would take only a few minutes, cultivating as I moved turned it into a fifteen-minute ordeal. As I entered the central courtyard, I paused, sending out my senses to search for other apprentices, one in particular.

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Flynn had an apparent dislike of me, and Leon had made it clear before that Flynn was a dangerous man. Luckily, I only detected a handful of ordinary humans, practicing their drills in the dying light.

Ordinary humans lacked the destructive potential of a mage and needed to find other ways to battle magic beasts in direct combat. Armor and weapons were one option, but the other way intense, disciplined training and constant practice. And it seemed these soldiers took that to heart.

This squad, made up of several dozen men and women, were paired off, swinging at one another with swords and shields in hand. Their strikes and blocks were sharp, stopping suddenly rather than flowing into one another like Sig had taught me. Despite this, I noted that there was undeniable precision and strength in their movements that would be effective in battle.

And unlike what I expected, they seemed to use their shields as weapons rather than just a defensive tool. The wooden faces had spikes and edges made of metal, and the soldiers bashed and slammed their shields into one another, using the force to create openings. When their guards fell, they would dart in with their blades, cutting to injure rather than kill. Their style looked tailor-made to wear down opponents over time, a feasible strategy against beasts.

Walking towards one man, who looked to be observing the training exercises, I smiled at him before asking, "Is there any chance I can borrow one of those training dummies for an hour? I want to practice with my blade a bit before bed, but I did not want to assume it would be acceptable."

A hint of a smile on his face, the man nodded and said, "Not a problem, son. I'm surprised at the request, though. Most mages don't tend to form an interest in what the common folk and sword swingers do with their free time."

I nodded myself before replying, "Frankly, I think that wisdom lies in many sources, even for a mage. Your soldiers kill magic beasts, and you do it without the aid of spells, which is quite impressive. I doubt any mage could have done the same without magic."

His face broke into a full smile, and he walked with me towards one human-shaped figure, speaking as we moved.

"If I'm not mistaken, you managed such a feat, right? I heard that a young, slim mage with brown hair and a short sword managed to kill a wolf single-handedly. Quite the accomplishment for a teenager."

I paused, cursing mentally again before replying, "That was me, yes, but it was due to luck rather than skill. And I nearly died in the process."

Chuckling, he shook his head, saying, "If you didn't notice, hunting beasts is a dangerous occupation. I've had more close calls with death than I have years of my life. You showed guts and the ability to think on your feet. If you ever get bored of magic, come back here, and I'll make you a real soldier. You'd make a good one, I bet."

Internally, I had no intention, or interest, in becoming a soldier. But saying as much would be rude, so I instead smiled brightly and nodded.

"Thank you, sir. I will be sure to keep your offer in mind."

Turning back towards his men, he grimaced before beginning to walk back over to them.

"Sorry, but I need to get back to my work, before anyone notices me slacking off. Good luck with your practice." the man threw over his shoulder, leaving me alone in front of a wooden training dummy.

I spent the rest of the daylight practicing with my short sword, carefully working in purposeful flaws into my moves. If anyone noticed me practicing, I need to make sure they assumed I was trying to teach myself swordplay rather than practicing moving cultivation. The first was a reasonable reaction to my experiences in the wilds, and it should hide my true motives.

It was miserable, nearly impossible work retaining my focus and breathing as I swung the sword, and I lost control dozens of times in just an hour of practice. And I noticed several times that the faintest green glow rose from my body during cultivation, which could be problematic. Maybe extra layers of clothing could mask the aura?

The next morning, I decided to put that idea into effect, layering an extra set of clothing and slipping on my cloak. We then rode out from the fort, moving westward, and I noticed Simon was strangely quiet. When we came to a stop near the crossroads leading to the Estton's land, he sighed quietly before looking up to me.

"When we get back to Volaris...will you help me train my magic, Vayne? I know you said not to take it personally or feel guilty that you were injured, but I can't shake the feeling it was my fault. Maybe if I were stronger or knew more spells, things would've turned out differently." he explained, lowering his gaze again.

I did not reply, surprised at Simon's new resolve. I doubted it would last longer than a few months, but it was still a welcome change of attitude. When the invaders came to Ferris, we would need as many powerful mages as possible, and if Simon grew into a better mage, this would only help our odds. And if I managed to learn about new cultivation methods along the way, all the better.

Nodding, I smiled at him and replied, "Of course, Simon. I look forward to it. Take care, and stay safe. I will see you soon enough."

The ride to the Estton's lands was short with our mounts. Miles passed in mere minutes, and when the sun was high in the air our heads, we arrived on the outskirts of the estate. Their lands were massive, several hundred miles wide, and containing several smaller villages.

A massive mansion, four floors high, and surrounded by auxiliary buildings stood in the middle of the lands. Bright green grass and flowers decorated the grounds, and marble statues of animals completed the image of wealth. Dozens of servants milled about tending to the lands or running errands, and as we rode closer, several of them nodded to us.

"Welcome home, my lords."

"Good morning, sir."

They directed their respectful words mostly to the Esttons, though several gave me nods of recognition. I had never been close with any of the servants, and it seems they felt similarly to me. I put it out of my mind as we approached the stables, where the stablemaster approached us.

"We will take of these, my lords. Duke Estton informed me to direct you into the mansion when you returned to meet him in his lounge." the large man said, smiling as he led the horses away.

Nodding, Leon turned towards me with a conflicted expression. I hoped it was a sign he was on my side, but I could not say for sure.

"Well, there's not much point in waiting much longer, is there? Let's go, Vayne."

Moving through the mansion, I glanced at portraits of Esttons hanging on the walls. Each glared down at us, stern but noble expressions with features inhumanly clean and perfect. I did not recognize any of them, but I never had much desire, or need, to learn about the Estton family ancestors. My priority during training was on the present, not long-dead men and women.

We finally came to a stop on the top floor, near the front of the building. Through the doors was Duke Estton's quarters, where he and Girem waited for us. Leon smiled at me once more, knocking firmly twice and waiting only a moment before walking into the room. I sighed, reciting all the things I wanted to say before squaring my shoulders and entering after him.