The Voorhee’s industrial basin was an old, dried out lake, near Re’relihn. It was now used as a firing range, and various mages tested their spells here. Among them, Arciel elected to take a day trip here to get away from the city. That is, to get away from her father. I stood behind her as she prepared her spells, nearby were other mages doing the same. At first, they paid her no mind; young mages were a common sight in Andestine. The nation had various systems in place to screen for magic aptitude, magically capable orphans being drafted into the military, and various schools and institutions to help facilitate magic use.

That’s not to say magic was the focus of Andestine, it had a larger vendetta on young men, to train up into being world class, professional soldiers. All the same on women and families to produce as much offspring as possible, it was off putting to me.

When Arciel started unleashing her arsenal downrange, the focus of all the other casters in the area shifted to her. They were in awe. Arciel was, after all, one of the best in the nation in terms of magical power. She had three things in excess which endowed her this;

A large mana capacity, a substantial mana regeneration rate, and she had the fundamental blessing from whatever gods of this world that the magic actually listens to her. That is to say, that there are plenty of mages and mage-wannabes, who when trying to cast a spell, simply can’t; the mana doesn’t respond to them.

That’s why she was selected as a summoner. The term was misleading, because she didn’t actually summon me, the big hats in Andestine did that, but she is responsible for feeding me mana to keep me corporeal. This is why having a high mana regeneration rate is crucial, she needs to not only feed me an incredible amount, but also have enough to spare to regenerate another supply to use for spells.

Explosions thundered in the distance, rumbling the ground. Arciel’s were the largest.

“Hmph.” She turned with a flair of her hair, giving herself a self-satisfied smirk.

It was then when an even bigger explosion shook the earth, and the brightness of it appeared to make the area go dark. I looked in the distance to see another cloud, one that was far bigger than Arciel’s had been. She looked awestruck, but also fearful.

As the dust settled it became apparent who the agent of destruction had been. Down the line of mages was an even younger magician than Arciel, one that we were both familiar with, the summoner of the strongest hero.

“A-Arciel, I didn’t know you would be here…”

Stumbling toward us on short legs, barely holding up a staff that was far too large for them, was Fifio; A young girl that just about reached my waist in height. Close behind her was her summon, Jeremiah. The strongest Hero of Andestine. In contrast to the pipsqueak Fifio, Jeremiah was a large, masculine and broad shouldered man, hefting a large, ornate spear at his back.

“Shepard, good to see you.” He nodded at me, and I reciprocated him.

He looked at me like a nobody when we first met, with arrogance and scorn, but it looks like he’s warmed up to me now that I’m not hero fresh off the boot.

Arciel and Fifio exchanged pleasantries the way girls usually did, as if the two of them weren’t walking vectors of mass destruction.

“I’m guessing your summoner wanted to get some fresh air from the Arcielvitzi compound?”

Jeremiah asked whilst standing near me, his arms crossed.

“Does everyone and their mother know about Arciel’s home situation…?” I muttered back.

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“No, but word among nobility of instability travels quickly. You forget I’ve been alive to witness her whole life.”

I sigh. Jeremiah didn’t look too much older than me, but he was the oldest and longest serving Hero. He was probably hundreds of years old; having been partnered with dozens of summoners. I was just fresh meat in comparison.

“I know this may be insensitive to ask, Shepard, but how was your experience of Freigat? That is a place even I have not ventured.”

I sighed. “It’s everything the rumors chalk it up to be. It’s hell.”

He put a hand on my shoulder, smiling. “If nothing, it has wiped that signature commoner cockiness that so many Heroes are endowed with. You have been humbled and tested, I can see as much from the way you carry yourself.”

I shrugged. “Aging three decades in three weeks is bad for your health.”

“We’re heroes, Shepard. Age is nothing but experience.” Jeremiah lifted his hand from my shoulder. “Come, we’re in a proving ground for mages, I tire of idly watching.”

I looked at him quizzically. “You want to spar?”

“Of course. Was that not the first thing you wanted from me when we met? To topple the highest ranked Hero?”

I frowned. When I first came here, I found out that the highest ranked hero was given special permissions and was in close contact with the high council of Andestine. I wanted answers then, about everything. After all that’s happened, I’ve sidelined those desires.

“Sure, why not.” I took him up on his offer, and we found a clearing that was free of idling mages.

Though the both of us were unarmored, we still brought with us our weapon to protect our summoners.

I drew the large sword at my back. When first coming here, I always thought it just looked like a comically large hunk of metal; despite the fact I could hold it with one hand because of my Hero-enhanced strength. Now, I know there are some great uses for a weapon like this. I never really got to pick what I got handed, now that I think about it. It may have been a boon in retrospect, I could kill beasts fairly easily with raw strength despite not knowing the first thing about swordsmanship. Hell, I still wouldn’t consider myself a swordsman.

Jeremiah drew his spear, and soon, we were locked in combat. I could do little to keep up with his speed and technique; But at the very least, I saw what he was doing, and I knew what I was doing wrong.

I decided to show him what my real specialty was. I swung widely, before dropping my blade and rushing forth with my fists at the ready, which seemed to take him by surprise. Unlike the swings of my blade, my strikes were fast and precise. I’ve punched a hell of a lot more than I’ve swung a sword, even after being here for so long.

It wasn’t enough to save me as eventually Jeremiah smashed the end of his spear into my chest, sending me sliding me back across the ground, but still on my feet. A blow like that probably would’ve cracked a normal man’s sternum.

We took a moment to breath, and relaxed our bulging muscles. It looked like quite a crowd had formed around me and Jeremiah, the mages were either in awe at our fight, or looking on at us with self-satisfaction, in that they were above such pedestrian means of combat.

“Well done, Shepard. You’ve gotten better with a sword, but you still fight like a brute.”

“I take that as a complement.” I smirked.

I suddenly felt a weird feeling within me. Now that I was not embroiled in battle, I could recognize it as not being simple fatigue. I was running out of mana. Arciel wasn’t supplying me.

I looked around, confused, my heart starting to race.

“U-uh, Shepard!”

Fifio came stumbling through the crowd. “Arciel’s family, they took her, and, she, and they’re-!”

I stepped closer. “Slow down.”

Jeremiah neared and laid a hand on her head. “What is it, squirt?”

“They took Arciel! Her father and his guards, they took her!”

I clenched a fist. The second I’m not around to protect her-!

Jeremiah shot a glance at me. “Have you ever ran out of mana before?”

I shook my head. “I’ve died before, but mana depletion, no.”

“It works the same way.” Jeremiah explained. “If Arciel is taken away from you, you’ll wither and die like an old grape on the vine within the hour. She’ll be able to regenerate you, but…”

He trailed off.

“Her father isn’t going to let her do that.” I ended the thought for him. I looked into his eyes. “I need to follow her.”

Jeremiah smirked. “Fifio and I have our own reputation to guard. But a raging Hero commandeering our coach wagon would certainly be out of our control if we weren’t looking.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

I turned to rush away when Jeremiah added, “You should be able tell the direction of your summoner depending on which one trickles more mana to you. Good luck.”

I did as he suggested, finding the coach with Fifio’s family crests on it, and gruffly ordering the servants to take me back to Re’relihn at the threat of violence.

I guess this was bound to happen eventually.

***