I made it most of the way back to the mines before my body reached its limit. The potions I had imbibed bolstered my flagging stamina and took the edge off my wounds, but it was a temporary solution. The sole boon on my side was that days of constant practice had sharpened my senses. By this point, my range stretched hundreds of feet and was leagues more precise.

The miles-long distance would have taken me two hours ordinally, but in my condition, it stretched to over four. I had to limp, stumble, and hide twice, holding my breath and hoping nothing would pierce my shroud.

When I finally heard the noise of civilization, my legs nearly gave out. I sped up, turning my limp into a shuffling lope, and finally, I broke free of the dense forest and into the mining camp.

The mines never stopped working regardless of weather, time of day, or season, but this was the first time I had seen them at night. Hundreds still milled about, carts still entered and exited along the road, and the sole difference was torches dotted everywhere to illuminate the clearing.

I had hoped my grand return would be met with cheers and, ideally, a warm bed, but instead, I heard shouts. Several voices sounded alarmed, and I could make out at least one call for the guards, but most sounded muffled and indistinct.

Before I could say or do anything more than raise one hand and wave to several nearby figures, my legs gave out entirely. The ground rushed toward me, and it was all I could do to half-roll and keep myself from crashing into the dirt at full force.

As I lay there, I could hear raised voices and the sound of boots smacking against hard dirt. Though I fought and tried to push back the darkness, it fought back and soon claimed me.

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The world returned to me in pieces, beginning with my hearing. I caught the steady rhythm of my breathing, which sounded low and shallow. There was a rhythmic snoring to my left, and to my right, I heard the din of shouted voices and other noises that sounded familiar but impossible to place.

Next, there came the dull pain of a hundred wounds. My ribs felt tender and throbbed with every minor adjustment. A dozen muscles ached when I shifted while my right ankle felt swollen and tight. Despite that, something warm and heavy covered me from neck to foot.

There was a sharp, almost medicinal smell hanging in the air that reminded me of alchemy classes and Simon, while the taste that met my tongue was cold, sharp, and almost minty.

I debated letting myself drift off again before shoving that temptation aside. When I opened my eyes, it was to an unfamiliar ceiling. Wooden beams lined the roof overhead, illuminated by flickering candles and the sun peeking in from somewhere to my right. I forced my stiff neck to turn and found a man half-slumped in a chair to my left.

The man and room were simultaneously unfamiliar yet recognizable. After a few seconds, I realized that, though I did not know either at a glance, the man wore a miner's uniform, while this room was near-identical to the makeshift infirmary where I had visited Rowen.

The miner snored away, arms folded over a broad chest and head slumped down, but seemed to sense my examination. He woke with a start and sharp inhale, opening his eyes with a yawn to see me trying to sit up.

There was barely a moment's pause before the man practically leaped to his feet and bowed low, "Apologies, my lord! I didn't mean t' doze off, sir. Please, I-"

I felt a sour taste settle into my mouth, not at the show of deference or the fear, but at the necessity of it all. When I tried to assure the man, my throat refused to cooperate. It took two attempts and nearly ten seconds before I could manage the feat."

"'s fine," I rasped, dryly coughing a few times before adding, "Water?"

I broke into a coughing fit, which pulled at my ribs, and the miner straightened up before running from the room, shouting, "Right away, sir!" over his shoulder as he went.

The man returned in seconds, holding a wooden mug out with shaking hands. I tried to take it and subsequently spiled it onto the floor. When he retrieved a second cup, I set aside my pride and asked him to hold it while I drank my fill.

As I drank, I revised my long-term goals from days earlier. If I ever became wealthy and influential, I would ensure everyone had proper means of bathing and fresh water. I had never felt so thirsty, and hopefully never would be again.

With my throat no longer an arid wasteland, I smiled at the miner and said, "Thank you."

"My honor, sir. Ah-I'll get Rowen, sir."

The miner bowed again before hurrying out. I suspected he was still concerned I might smite him for falling asleep while on watch and hoped to escape before I worked up the strength to do as much. Again, I felt that flicker of discomfort at the implicit accusation that I would be so petty and spiteful simply by being a mage.

Rowen entered my room after about ten minutes of waiting. The foreman still favored one leg, and his face looked pale, oily, and with new bags under his eyes. However, when he saw me looking at him from my bed, it seemed like a weight had vanished from his shoulders.

"Thank the Founders," Rowen murmured as he walked closer and slumped into the chair beside me, "You scared the hell out of us."

I tried to sit up, paused when my ribs made their protests very clear, and instead replied, "How long was I asleep for?"

Rowen sat beside my bed and said, "Little over a day. You fell outta the forest the night before last. Spent yesterday asleep, too. It seemed like you needed it."

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"I did. What time is it now?"

"Morning, sir. A few hours after sunrise."

Perfect. My deadline to leave for home had passed, which meant Master Julian would be expecting me either tomorrow or the day after. I would need to contact him. But first...

I pulled back the heavy blanket covering my body and found that someone had changed me into a soft pair of pants and a shirt. White bandages encircled my torso underneath the latter, and I caught another hint of the minty scent from when I first awoke.

"Do I have you to thank for this?" I asked, gesturing towards my body.

Rowen shook his head, "No, sir. A healer arrived yesterday morning. Demanded we bring him to your room and spent a few hours treating you. He said you'd wake in a day or so."

I nodded several times, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Exhaustion, a near-death battle, too many potions in too short a span, and my stunt with the Aether pool had been too much. In the future, I should-

My tired mind caught on to Rowen's words, and I opened my eyes, asking, "A healer? What kind of healer? An alchemist?"

"Another mage, sir," Rowen replied, "A little older than you. Blonde, with glasses, dressed like he was trying to show off."

I felt my heart freeze, then let out a long, low breath, "What did he do after treating me?"

"Told us to keep an eye on you and let him know when you woke up," Rowen responded, "Do you not know him? He spoke like you two were friends."

"We know each other," I said, avoiding the second part, "Is he in the camp?"

"No. Left after treating you," Rowen paused before adding, "Ah-forgive me for overstepping, but if he's not your friend..."

Rowen trailed off, looking uncomfortable, and I waited rather than interrupt. The man glanced towards the door, paused again, and continued, "If you'd like, sir, we can get you out of here. If there's a problem, of course."

"You...would risk insulting a mage? For me?" I felt a strange warmth in my chest before asking the obvious, "Why?"

"You helped us, sir. Seems only right we return the favor."

It was such a blunt, guileless response that I nearly burst into laughter. Few mages would ever freely do something so selfless. Even I could not say if my own gestures of apparent altruism were genuine.

For several minutes, I considered how best to approach the upcoming conversations. I had no way of knowing about the state of Julian's deal with Markov. For that matter, I did not even know if the Master was on his way here, either to disavow or rescue me.

And then there was Flynn Sion, the likely healer and my direct competitor for the journal. He had a stronger position and had shown as much with his challenge days ago. While he could not leverage my debt to him against Master Julian, it was still a problem.

I opened my mouth, ready to ask Rowen to send the noble a message, then paused again. An idea came to mind, a possible way out that was only feasible thanks to the events of the last several days.

"Rowen," I finally said, "Can you send the healer a message and inform him that I have woken and would like to speak with him? But before that, please retrieve my bag. I have work to finish before he arrives and someone to speak with first."

If this worked, maybe I could turn this trip into a success for Master Julian as well.

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Flynn Sion practically strolled into the infirmary with a grin and spread hands, "Welcome back to the land of the living. How do you feel?"

"Great," I lied, "But I owe you a favor regardless. Thank you."

It was a dangerous admittance. A commoner might trade friendly favors back and forth with abandon, but nobles hoarded debts like any treasure. If you owed a noble your life, they could demand damn near anything, and if you refused, your reputation would fall.

While I doubted I owed him my life, downplaying the favor also risked insult.

Flynn chuckled at my words as he sank into a nearby chair. He grimaced, tried to adjust his position, and then shrugged as he took in my appearance.

"It wasn't much," Flynn replied, "A few poultices for your cuts and the swelling. One potion to speed recovery. I'm not much of a healer, but I can get by. You tore muscles in your ribcage and sprained your ankle, but you should be fine within a week."

A small miracle that I had not been injured worse. Still, all of that assistance was poisoned. If all Flynn had done was examine me, my debt would have been minimal, but he had used too many valuable materials.

To buy myself time to consider, I responded, "How did you know I was wounded?"

Flynn laughed again, "Everyone knows you were wounded."

Sion must have seen my wide eyes and continued, "You're a first-year apprentice trained to advise a future duke. You show up here, meet with a baron, and kill a boar to save some miners. Then, instead of rubbing shoulders with mages, you wander around a forest filled with monsters. And then, several days later, you stumble out half-dead in front of a hundred minors. Subtle."

I cleared my throat, "I suppose you have a point. At the risk of sounding ungrateful, why did you come to help me? We have spoken once."

"Two reasons. First, I wanted to," Flynn held up one finger, "That's the best reason to do anything from where I'm sitting. But second, we have unfinished business."

I did not think he was entirely lying about the first reason. Still, it seemed clear that the second had guided his actions more than anything.

"While I owe you a favor, that favor is mine and mine alone," I replied, meeting the noble's gaze.

"Maybe. But I did help your master by assisting you, right?" Flynn leaned back in his seat, "And you have already spoken for your master at least twice, once with Markov and again with me. You are here to represent him, so do it. Retract your offer, and our debt will be paid."

Flynn was technically correct, but we both know it was a preposterous overreach. My job here was a glorified courier and nothing else. Retracting Julian's offer without his permission might clear my debt to Flynn, but it would tarnish my public reputation forever.

If Flynn had not taken several hours to reach the mines, he might have backed me into a corner. But that had been ample time to think, plan, and, most importantly, retrieve a particular magical object from my pack.

"You spoke of unfinished business," I finally replied after several minutes, "And I agree. I would like to discuss our previous offer."

"Discuss?" Flynn snorted, "That offer's off the metaphorical table. I might be persuaded to compensate you for the wasted trip, but you're not getting any-"

"Not that offer," I interrupted. I took a long breath, forced myself to sit up further, met Flynn's eyes, and said, "I accept your duel."

Flynn blinked, and his laughter echoed across the small room. It continued for a few seconds before he realized I was not joking, and the look in his eyes shifted. His gaze had been a mixture of amused, faintly bored condescension, but now it turned penetrating.

"You're serious?" Flynn shook his head, "There's no offer to accept. You refused."

"No, I did not. I said I would reply before leaving Aresford, but my injuries made that impossible. In fact, I had planned to accept your offer two days ago."

It was a complete and utter lie. Two days ago, I had planned to return to the Aresford with what little Aether water I could find, inform Rowen of everything I learned, and depart for home. At best, I had hoped Markov would cave before I left, but I had no intentions of speaking with Flynn Sion again.

But Girem and Julian had taught me the same lesson. Sometimes, leveraging advantages is the difference between success and failure. And I had never enjoyed failing.

Flynn leaned back in his chair and examined me for a long time before replying, "Let's say I accept. What happens to our debt? When I win, you'll still owe me that."

"As I already said, that debt is mine. It does not affect our deal with Markov. Nor does it change your challenge to me. Are you retracting that challenge?"

It was an indirect accusation. Technically, Flynn had never rescinded his challenge. Some might consider it a sign of cowardice if he refused to honor it. At least, that was how I hoped he took it.

Flynn stared at me for a time, seeming to consider his options. I could feel his aura ripple out, the Mist density mana contained within daunting, and I tried to ignore my racing heart and the sweat running down my back.

Finally, Flynn leaned back in his chair, "Fine. We'll duel one week from today. That should give you enough time to recover. If you win, we consider your debt paid, and I will retract our offer to Baron Markov."

"Thank you, sir. I-"

"But if I win, you retract your offer," Flynn continued, "And you'll do something for me."

I did not like how he looked at me, but after a second, he responded, "Do what?"

"You'll tell me why. Why did you run into a fight to help those miners? Why are you wandering around a forest despite the risks? Why are you throwing yourself into danger?" Flynn gestured towards himself, "I'd do that but for greater power. You? You're an advisor. You should be collecting paper cuts, not battle wounds."

"How do you know it was for power?"

"Is there any other reason?"

There were, but I did not counter the noble. I also did not outright refuse. Flynn's demand was strange, bordering on disarmingly, which gave me pause. The simplest answer is he felt no value in retaining a favor and wanted to satisfy idle curiosity, which seemed shortsighted.

Still...a shortsighted offer was a generous one. I would sacrifice nothing if I answered Flynn's questions, and since I did not plan to lose, well...

"Alright, I agree."

Flynn stood up and smiled, "Perfect. I'll send a message here in a few days when I find a place to have our little duel. Until then."

Flynn left, the door clicking shut, and I waited, watching Flynn's mana signature vanish. When I was sure I was alone, I relaxed and let out a long, low breath. Only then did I pull my right arm out from underneath the covers? I checked again just to be safe, then opened my hand to reveal the stone in my palm.

"Well," Master Julian's chipper voice said, sounding like a cat who had spotted a mouse, "Haven't you had a fun trip so far."