The coastal city of Aranth was one of the twin jewels of Southern Ferris, a trade hub legendary for wealth, prosperity, and excess in equal parts. Gold flowed like water within its bounds, and it was not for nothing that their ruling family, the Southbornes, were the wealthiest nobles alive.

Girem had spoken about the city several times, both in detached lectures and the rare, almost wistful recollections from his personal visits. He spoke of its trade goods, typically luxuries affordable for only nobles and the rare trader. He recited its history, from its founding centuries ago to its recent past. And he spoke of how the sun shone across the ocean nearby or how the morning winds carried the smell of salt across the city.

I knew it was a beautiful city, but the stories did not do it justice.

Aranth was crescent-shaped and purpose-built along a curving coastline, designed from the ground up to gather and produce a handful of goods. It appeared divided into three uneven sections, each distinct from one another, but all were made of brilliant orange, yellow, and red stonework that shone like the sun and contrasted against a wide swath of blue and white crashing waves.

Docks, small workshops, and restaurants dominated the city's western portion, forming the waterfront district. Here, boats ranging from two- and three-person dinghies to monstrosities carrying dozens ventured out into the Azure Expanse. None went too far, as even here, the fear of deep waters remained almost intrinsic, but they certainly strayed further than I found appealing.

Meanwhile, the northeastern chunk of the city had homes of varying sizes and complexities built alongside shops and storefronts. It was where the bulk of people within Aranth lived and was the portion most familiar to my eyes. Even the Southbornes had their home within that district, though I knew from past readings they made efforts to live separately from the common rabble, as they might call them.

Lastly, the southern section. It was the smallest and densest district of them all, filled from east to west with wide, short buildings that looked built with as little space as possible between one another. Like the rest of the city, I knew this was where the bulk of the warehouses, workshops, and mage labs sat, and I recognized it as the industrial heart of Aranth.

I could not help but note the irony. This marked the fourth city I had visited and it was, in many ways, the inverse of both Colkirk and Aresford. It was a place of wealth and prosperity, not unlike the famed City without Winter, but this came from trade goods and natural resources, not esoteric magical secrets or traveling mages eager to escape poor weather.

Likewise, most commoners and mages within Aranth dealt with processing and refining trade goods, like the mining city to the north. But they did not toil in the dirt and dust, spending countless hours deep underground. Instead, they sailed along the waters, diving into the dark to plumb for hidden wealth or grinding away within workshops to turn those seabound treasures into something truly extraordinary.

Darius led the carts south before turning westward in a looping path. It took several hours to reach our destination, but all too soon, we rumbled to a stop outside a multi-story building with several nearby warehouses and stables.

I jumped out, scooping up my packs and covered swordstaff. Cat leaped onto my shoulders, and I rolled my eyes as he settled in before walking to the front of the caravans where Darius stood.

Already, the tradesman had begun ordering around laborers and the like, unloading carts and carrying away boxes into the nearby warehouses. Inside, I could see others unpacking them with practiced speed, though I also knew it would take hours to complete the task.

Wallace strolled up beside me as we waited for several minutes. Finally, Darius turned towards us and walked over with a smile, "Thanks for the help, you two."

"We did not do much," I remarked with a shrug, and Darius chuckled.

"Yeah, that's what we want," Darius replied, "I don't want to get robbed, but I slept easier knowing we had two mages with us."

I returned his smile and nodded, "I can imagine. Thank you for having us along with you. I was not looking forward to walking such a distance."

"Of course. Anytime either of you want to come along with us again, come find me. I'll gladly have you back." Darius held out one hand.

Wallace and I shook his hand one after the other, and we were about to walk away when I turned back, "One last thing. I do not suppose you have any recommendations for affordable and safe lodgings?"

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Darius smiled and nodded, "The Crimson Sparrow. Bout an hour north of here, with a bright red shinged roof and a sign with a bird on it. Can't miss it. Let 'em know I sent you, and come back here if they charge you an arm and a leg. If they do, I'll put you up til we can find something cheaper. Least I could do."

"Thank you," I nodded, and we left the weathered tradesman to his work, heading north and into the city proper.

An hour later, after booking two rooms and unpacking my things, I left Cat and Wallace and headed to my next destination. It did not take me long to track down the small healer's shop, a narrow-two story building with tiny windows and a sign with the Old Ferren word for "healing" or "repairing" written on it. I stood outside for a second, gathering my thoughts before taking a deep breath and walking inside.

The first thing that hit me was a strange, acrid scent. It reminded me of liquor but with sweet, floral undercurrents, forming a smell not unlike an alchemy lab.

The room I was in was small, with only enough room for a handful of people to stand side by side. It was rectangular, with a few chairs against the wall to my right, two filled bookshelves to my left, and a desk in front of me, with shelves mounted on the walls and a curtain covering a doorway to presumably the rest of the building.

As far as I could tell, there was no one else in the building, but before I could say anything, a high-pitched voice from behind the curtain said, "One moment, please!"

I nodded, then blushed as I realized they obviously would not have seen the movement. I cleared my throat before replying, "Of course, take your time!"

The voice did not respond, so I took another look around to pass the time. The bookshelves were boring, filled with mundane fictional works ranging from mystery novels to romances to thrill-packed stories about greater warriors and mages saving far-flung kingdoms. I had enjoyed those sorts of things as a child, but they had lost some of their luster since gaining magic of my own.

Clay jugs and stoppered glass vials sat on the shelves behind the healer's desk. Strangely, only a few felt overtly magical, and even these had only weak flickers rather than the thrumming mana that I expected. The rest felt wholly mundane, without a hint of magic to them, and I wondered if that was the point. Potions and elixirs could turn toxic if overused, so maybe this healer favored non-magical remedies whenever possible.

I was debating whether to leave when the curtain russeled. A hand pushed it aside as a woman stepped into sight.

She was in her forties, short with close-cut black hair flecked with silver. Her skin was dark, a trait common in southern Ferris, and her mana signature felt cool and gentle as a flowing river, somewhere in the early liquid stages, though I could not get too precise a read on her rank. What I could tell was her control was perfect, to the point where I could detect even the tiniest hint of instabilities within her mana.

The woman took me in just as fast, glancing me over as she brushed down her close-fitting, lightly colored robes. She tilted her head to one side, a beaming smile on her face as she said, "And how may I help you, young man?"

I smiled and bowed my head, "I apologize for barging in unannounced. My name is Vayne, and I am a former apprentice at the Academy and former advisor-in-training to Duke Rufus Estton and his family."

"Duke Estton?" she repeated, surprise coloring her voice, "Does he require healing?"

"No, my lady," I shook my head, "Nothing of the sort."

She relaxed a hair, "Ah, good, good. I am Lysandra, a healer by training and trade. Nice to meet you, young Vayne."

"Likewise," I nodded, "I am here to...well, I have no way to ask this beyond just asking. I want to learn how to become a healer."

Lysandra stared at me for a heartbeat, and then her smile grew, and she nodded, "Okay."

I blinked, "...okay?"

"Of course," Lysandra replied, "We can start tomorrow if that sounds agreeable."

I should have left well enough alone, but...

"Pardon, but do you not want to know more?"

"More about?"

"Me?" I asked, trying not to make it sound too obvious."

"Why would I?" Lysandra asked, "You were an apprentice at the Academy and hail from a place weeks away at a minimum. You traveled a long way and must have done so for a reason, yes? Who am I to deny that?"

"I...would think you would not be so eager to give away magical secrets."

"Healing is not a secret. It is a gift, young man," Lysandra replied warmly.

I had heard stories about the woman, though never in particularly rich detail. It had taken weeks of digging through records on active mages, plying others for rumors, and speaking with several masters back when I was still in the Academy, and even then, I had heard of Lysandra only in passing and never by name.

But she was famously...eccentric. She did not believe in hoarding magical knowledge, and would train anyone who came to her door regardless of their station or skills or history. It was a strange position, one so generous I felt it crossed into naive. Healing did not have quite as many dangerous applications as ohter schools, but I was sure I could find some given a few months time.

Besides that, it was bizarre. No Ferren mage gave up their knowledge and skills so quickly. Even I purposefully held back some of my full strength when interacting with Wallace, just in case.

Truthfully, I had assumed the stories about her were just that. It was a pleasant yet strange surprise.

Lysandra held up one finger, "Now before you become too appreciative, I must warn you. This is not a path for those unwilling to work hard, and I do expect you to work hard. By chance, do you enjoy reading?"

"I am a fast reader and tend to memorize most works given—"

"No, no, no," she said, shaking her head, "I did not ask whether or not you are good at reading. I asked whether or not you like it."

"I...suppose I do?" I replied.

"Fantastic!" Lysandra gestured towards her bookshelf, "Take your pick. We can discuss it tomorrow. That is an agreeable time, yes? If you need longer, please say as much."

"No, tomorrow is fine, thank you," I cleared my throat, "Ah, do you...have any recommendations?"

After about a minute, I stood with a book tucked under my arm. It was a thin tome, maybe two hundred pages long, about the unlikely friendship between a talking bird and a young man who sought to rescue a kidnapped princess.

Lysandra had noted twice that it was "an adorable tale," but truthfully, I had selected it because it was short and sounded easily digestible. If this was some kind of test, as I suspected, I would be damned if I failed.

We said our goodbyes, and I left, returning to the inn. And as I went, I could not help but wonder if this woman truly was as kind and generous as she seemed or if it was a trap of an entirely new sort.