I made it back to the Pale Pauper right around sunset to find it busier than expected. Nick had left the mines hours before me, and apparently, he had not returned home alone.

At least a dozen men and women crowded into the common room, all wearing the now-familiar mining uniforms over their bulky forms. They spoke loudly, laughed louder, drank, ate, and otherwise made an incredible uproar. If I had the energy left to care, I might be annoyed.

Several people noticed my entrance, including Nick, and the innkeeper stood from his seat and walked over to meet me near the door.

"Welcome back, sir. How'd your search go?"

I shrugged and waved a hand, "Middling. I am glad you made it back safe."

"Thanks," Nick chuckled, "Couple o' the miners wanted a drink or two before headin' home. You're welcome to join us if you'd like, sir."

For a brief, bizarre instant, I considered the offer. I was not a drinker, but the frustrations of my trip had begun to mount. Strange patterns, coincidences, threats, failed negotiations, and fruitless searching made it a very enticing offer. I could relax for a brief, blissful evening.

Then, as it so often did, I remembered my own body, skewered through the chest by a being of impossible power.

"Another night, maybe," I laughed and rubbed my eyes, "Today has been a little too exciting, I think. Do you think you could bring me something to eat, though?"

"Gladly, sir. I can bring up somethin' in a few minutes."

"Perfect. Thank you."

I waved to the miners, several of whom raised their drinks in my direction, and walked up to my room. As I closed the door, I heard something decidedly unexpected and unwelcome.

"Finally," an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice said, "I was sure you'd be gone all night."

I did not think, whirling and pulling on my mana to conjure a shield around me. My left hand grabbed at the pouch by my hip, my senses spread out, and I searched for whoever or whatever had spoken.

At first glance, I was alone. The setting sun cast a deep bronze glow across the room, illuminating my bed, the wooden floor, and nothing else. But as I continued to scan, I noticed something near the window, hovering at head height.

It was a glowing golden mana sphere the size of my fist, dense and near-perfectly formed. Ribbons of burnished light bled off, blending into the ambient bronze color, and it gave off a feeling like staring at the sun.

"None of that, please," the voice said again, "Let's keep it friendly. Besides, I'd rather not make another one of these things."

"Generally, friendly conversations do not begin with ambushes in someone's room."

"Fair point, though I'd argue discretion is more important than good manners. Speaking of which, where do we fall on relaxing? Friends don't draw weapons on one another."

We were not friends, but I released my shield after a second's deliberation. Whoever made that mana construct could have attacked and killed me if they wanted. I mentally kicked myself for being so careless and resolved to double my sensory training when I returned home.

I folded my arms across my chest and stared at the orb, waiting for it to speak. It bobbed in place, and seconds ticked by as the silence stretched. Finally, as I considered turning and walking out, the man on the other end of the construct spoke.

"Thank you. Now, as I said, we both value discretion. You are a man who avoids attention, as do I. More importantly, you are a person I'd love to meet. This seemed the fastest and quietest way to set up said meeting."

"Why?" I asked bluntly, "Do you want to meet, I mean? I do not even know who you are."

"I make it a point to meet with interesting people visiting unusual places. And you have been up to some very interesting things for such a young person."

There were two possibilities, and I dismissed the first, that he had heard of my fights and wanted to warn me, out of hand. That left only the second.

The other offer.

It was obvious in hindsight, and the logical deduction came without much prodding. Markov must have refused to follow through on his other deal, either to raise the price from whoever I was speaking with or because he felt it was impugning on what scraps of honor he still claimed.

Either way, that made my response clear.

"Yes," I nodded slowly, "I suppose we should meet. In person."

"Excellent. I'm glad you see reason. There's a small house a mile north of this inn. Two stories with a wooden fence and a mark shaped like a sun on the front door. I'll see you within the hour."

The orb blinked out, leaving the room a hair darker. I stared at where it hung a moment earlier, then sighed and rubbed my forehead. He had not even waited for my response, expecting me to agree. I had not eaten, I felt exhausted, and that damned headache was coming back.

There were risks, but not many. If the man wanted to harm me, he already could have done so. And avoiding the meeting was pointless. They had already found me once, so I might as well figure out what they wanted. Better the dagger you saw, after all.

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Most importantly, though, there were too many coincidences in this place. If I wanted to find out more, there was one clear path.

I passed Nick in the hallway heading downstairs and barely stopped to apologize for skipping dinner before I was back onto the streets. They were quiet but had already started to become more familiar than I expected.

The house was easy to find. It stood shorter and simpler than I had expected, with a small fence, a single tree near the front, and a bench next to the main doorway. It felt warm and almost inviting, particularly out of place in a maze of cold gray stone buildings.

The image was shattered by tiny, glinting runes which shone in the afternoon sun. Although they appeared to glow, I could not feel a hint of mana from any, even though they stood out clearly at regular intervals against the wood. I walked closer and almost laughed when I examined one in closer detail.

Fakes.

The runes were nonsensical, close to but not matching existing symbols. The carving was clumsy, there was no substrate, and I found that the 'glow' was glass cleverly set in place to catch and reflect nearby light.

Now that I was closer, I could feel the actual magical defenses, though I could not see them. As I tried to search for wherever my host had hidden the real runes, I heard his voice speak from about a foot to my side.

"You're early. Excellent. I appreciate punctuality. But let's hurry inside before any neighbors get nosy."

I glanced to my side and found another orb smaller than a fingernail hovering next to my ear. It winked out a moment later, and I glanced at the home's second floor before shrugging and approaching the main door.

It swung open when I raised a hand and stood face to face with a servant in middle age. He took me in with a single glance, then silently gestured to enter. I complied, and he led me through a few sparsely decorated rooms, up a set of stairs, and to another door, which he knocked out, pausing for a heartbeat before opening it.

On the other side was a rectangular study overlooking the street outside. I could see a desk and bookshelves pushed against one wall, and near the other was a round table with two chairs. Golden lights the size of my head hovered near the ceiling in each corner, and I briefly marveled at their craftsmanship before focusing on the young man standing by the desk.

He was closer to a boy my age, though he might be a year or two older than me. His hair was golden and swept back from a slim, tanned face with sharp features. Amber eyes flashed from behind glasses, and his build was lean, bordering on skinny. He wore a white shirt, dark pants, polished boots, and a vest marked with a golden rising sun bisected with a blade. I could not place the crest, but something about it tickled my memory.

"Glad you could make it on such short notice. My name is Flynn Sion, the eldest and only child of Duke Sion. And you are Vayne, Ward of Duke Estton, future advisor, apprentice, and all that?" the young noble said as he spread both arms and walked towards me. His smile was similar to Leon's, though less friendly and more like a predator spotting something defenseless.

I felt a shiver run down my back as the name and familial crest clicked into place, and for a moment, I felt the urge to flee.

Several families warred for a spot atop the noble hierarchies. The royal family was ostensibly the strongest, with an iron-clad grip on the Academy, the loyalty of the Archmagi, and possession of potent magical artifacts, not to mention social and political power.

The Esttons were another, adhering to their heraldic symbol of a great tree. They spread their roots far and wide, making friends and ever-growing until they become something old and unshakeable.

There were the Southbornes, who effectively ran two cities to the south and had unmatched economic might, or the Lockbards, with their secret knowledge of the eastern wilds. No one traveled the unexplored reaches without a member guiding the way.

The Sions were not like any of them. They were not rich or well-connected in the capital. Their lands were small, with sparse arable land, no resources, and few villages and towns. They did not control a city, lacked political might, and counted only a handful of living members. Instead, they had a single, solitary resource they coveted and cultivated with dogged determination.

Power. In particular, overwhelming magical power.

The Sions claimed direct descendency from a Founder and followed unusual traditions. They never sent their members to the Academy, preferring to train new generations personally. They never shared magical knowledge or secrets and rarely attended social events or obligations. Most infamously, the heir would only become the familial head if they defeated their predecessor in a duel.

Every part of their lives was dedicated to creating as strong a mage as possible. And, strange and barbaric though it seemed, their traditions worked. The Sions had produced three separate Archmagi over the centuries, each fearsome in battle, and the ones that fell short remained among the strongest of their time.

All that meant I was standing before someone very dangerous. Even nobles had to wait until fifteen to become mages, but Flynn was likely far beyond me.

I realized that I had not yet responded and forced a polite smile.

"Apologies, my lord. It has been a long day, and I am afraid I did not recognize you at first glance. Your lands are a great distance from the Esttons, you understand."

"Yes, yes," Flynn waved one hand, "Like I said, formal nonsense. Let's speak a little more candidly. Are you hungry?"

Flynn gestured to the round table piled high with more food and drink than we could possibly eat. We sat, but Flynn held up a hand when I tried to speak. I waited until he took a bite of something before following his lead.

After a minute or two, Flynn finally broke the silence, "So, what brings a first-year apprentice and advisor-in-training to Aresford? I'd expect you to be collecting paper cuts, not adventuring."

"I had business here," I replied, tasting the wine before continuing, "And you? The Sions live further south, as I recall. Aresford seems a poor place for vacation."

Flynn laughed, "So polite. Yes, I'm here on some business of my own."

"Part of which involves meeting with me?"

"It does now," Flynn picked up a berry and popped it into his mouth, "I'm mostly intrigued by your magic. Aether. I've only read about it before. Tell me, what does it feel like?"

I blinked, caught off-guard by the questions. Deciding on honesty, I said, "Painful, mostly. If I am careless, I can hurt myself."

"But it's powerful, right?"

"Yes."

My reticence seemed to amuse him, and Flynn's smile grew before he responded, "Fascinating. Mine feels warm, like a rising sun, which I suppose is appropriate."

I remained silent and continued eating. Sion had made it clear he intended to guide the conversation, so I would let him do so.

Flynn seemed more than content to follow and continued speaking after a few seconds, "And I hear you met with Baron Markov. I've had the pleasure a few times. Nice man, though a shame about his poor fortune."

It was as clumsy a misdirect as I had seen, and I covered my snort with another sip of wine before responding, "Yes, it is. Bad luck abounds in Aresford from what I hear."

"To put it mildly," Flynn chuckled, "If the stories are true, Markov is months from destitute."

"I suspect his fortunes will turn soon," I replied, "A man like that has means of raising more gold."

"Oh? And what would those be?"

I stared at Flynn and warred with myself for a moment. Usually, I would be more patient or cautious, content to let this play out. Generally, I would emulate Girem, who preferred to leave someone enough room to say or do something foolish.

But usually, I had not been summoned like a dog twice in as many days or nearly gored by a wild beast. I generally did not spend hours trying and failing to find magical pools or struggle for days with negotiations and machinations.

Boldness won out.

"With all due respect, my lord, I would prefer we stop dancing around whatever you summoned me here for," I said, meeting Flynn's eyes directly, "If it is all the same to you, can we get to our business?"

Flynn seemed surprised, but after a second, he shifted. His smile went from polite and faintly mocking to smaller but more genuine. His face and posture relaxed, and I could see his shoulders loosen as he slumped a fraction in his seat.

"Gladly," Flynn laughed, "Founders above that was awful. Alright, business then. I want you to retract your offer for Markov's journal."

"Absolutely not," I responded at once.

"You didn't let me finish," Flynn waved a hand, and a pouch appeared from nowhere to clink onto the table, "We'll match your master's offer as repayment for his troubles. Consider it a gesture of goodwill."

It was a mixed offer. Sion called it repayment, but it could be just as easily an insult. If Markov's journal was truly as valuable as Master Julian thought, it was worth several times as much.

"I am afraid we must decline," I said after a few seconds of thought, "Money has value, but not magical value. You and I both know we would need more than just that."

"Agreed. Which is why I'll sweeten the deal. If you agree to retract your offer, we will provide a portion of Markov's notes in addition to this gold. Not the whole thing, of course, but enough to learn a few things."

It was a reasonable offer. Julian was already paying a small fortune. Taking that deal would double his initial investment and gain him a portion of what he wanted in the first place.

Still...

"Respectfully, I must decline. I was sent here to settle a deal between my mentor and Baron Markov. To go beyond that would be an insult to both. If the Baron wishes to break faith, he can, but I will not."

Something in Flynn's eyes shifted again, and he leaned forward across the table. Our meal had fallen by the wayside at some point, and I felt a trickle of sweat work down my back.

"Then how about a counteroffer. A friendly wager, let's say."

"A wager?"

"Yes. I've heard you fought and killed quite the dangerous beast earlier today."

"Word travels fast here."

"If you listen well," Flynn tapped one ear, "And as I've heard, most Academy students learn combat magic."

I felt my stomach clench as I realized where he was going. Before I could interject, Flynn straightened up, and his smile grew dangerous.

"I propose we duel for it."