As I had suspected, despite the rather late hour - almost two after midnight - Aun had no intention of going to sleep. When I entered the house, the coals in the atrium fireplace were still glowing brightly, and the lad was diligently practicing. Noticing my return, he tried to jump to his feet to greet me but was halted by a wave of my hand and a brief order to continue his training.
Washing my face with cool water from the courtyard fountain, I placed a pot with leftover fruit brew on the fireplace, sank into an old wicker chair, and finally allowed myself to relax. Lowering my gaze, I noticed that all the sand around the fireplace was marked with some lines and symbols. It seems Aun had not only been training but also deep in thought, helping his contemplations by drawing diagrams in the dirt with a stick. Although he had apparently used his foot to smudge his doodles, I could still decipher some of them. Evidently, the lad was planning a future conversation with Aunt Zian, and, as an additional argument in his favor, he wanted to present what earthlings would call a business plan. I was once again amazed by the boy's persistence and his mature thinking. For his seventeen years, he thought remarkably clearly and pragmatically.
Watching Aun repeatedly attempt to execute a "Wind Blade" with a concentration bordering on fanaticism, I felt a pang of envy. I wish I had his talents! To leave a more than a millimeter-deep scratch on a candle seven steps away on the third day of what was essentially self-study, one must possess exceptional abilities.
For the umpteenth time in recent days, I wondered: should I encourage the young man to develop his skills? If it weren't for the imminent Invasion, I probably would have done so. But given the current situation - without the bonuses granted to earthlings, without the constant pressure of the questers' presence hanging over you like Damocles' sword - by the time the demons emerge, even with all his talents, the boy won't progress beyond Wootz or, in the most fantastic case, Opal. Of course, if I took him with me and instructed him personally, perhaps he could reach Ruby in a year. But I can't afford to spend that year training one, albeit incredibly talented, youth. In fact, even for the rapid development of one of the Shards, I can't spare my time, let alone for this lad.
Yet, as I look at the sand covered with various diagrams, my desire to train Aun fades. The lad desires something entirely different. Well, he likes training, but I'm sure if he were forced to choose between the lessons and meetings with Alaya, he would undeniably pick the latter. And he would probably be right. Moreover, having another promising fighter, even of the Precious Stone rank, will hardly influence the outcome of the upcoming global war. Though it might affect how long he and his beloved will live. It might happen that if the lad develops his talents, he won't die in the early days and will be able to protect his fiancée from the first, weakest Wave. It won't change the finale of the story, but it might grant him a few days or weeks of life. I observed how diligently and focused the young man was practicing, and said:
"You certainly have a talent for the Air element."
"You think so?" Interrupting his rhythm, Aun asked, turning to me.
"I know," I replied succinctly, changing my posture and leaning forward. "Don't give up on your training. It's even better to enroll in some martial arts school or, if you can afford it, hire a personal teacher. From the schools, I'd suggest 'Rising Dragon' if I were in your place."
"I definitely won't give up on training!" The young man replied passionately. "But first, I need to organize a decent wedding. Then establish my new family, develop my business, and ensure a stable income." The lad looked around the yard. "I also need to rebuild this house according to my plans."
"And that will take you about a year?" I clarified.
"More like one and a half or two," Aun shrugged. "And after all that, I'll think about further growth in the ranks." He scratched the back of his head. "Besides, if Alaya doesn't plan on growing alongside me, remembering your words, I'll probably also abstain from further Elevations. I enjoy training, honestly! But if I have to choose between training and rank growth on one side and family happiness on the other, I'll choose Alaya's smile." Saying this, the young man closed his eyes, seemingly recalling the smile of his bride-to-be.
Well, that settled all my doubts and inner turmoil. The boy clearly knows what he wants, so I won't stand in his way, acting like a harbinger of doom. But I can't let him go without some advice:
"Do you know what is the safest place in Tries?" I asked the boy nonchalantly before he went back to his training.
"The Nobility Quarter? No! The Municipality? Not that either!" He listed. "The Fleet Headquarters? Probably not. Oh! The Senate Building! Yes... But no. The Temple! Yes! Exactly! The safest place in Tries is the Temple of All Gods!" The young man confidently answered and was very surprised when I shook my head in disagreement. "Umm, then where?"
"Grandpa Wyuan's sweet store."
"Master!" Aun exclaimed, "I sometimes don't understand your Western humor!"
"I wasn't joking," I replied seriously, shrugging.
"Master..." The boy frowned, shook his head, and, without further argument, returned to his training.
The option to tell the boy who this grandpa really is was immediately dismissed. Not knowing the motives for which this powerful old man hides his true rank and lives the life of a simple street vendor, I can't predict how he would react to someone knowing his secret. It's quite possible that if I tell Aun about the Mithril rank and later the boy visits the candy store with this knowledge, he might "accidentally" trip and break his neck after his first words. And this could happen even in public, and still, no one would suspect Grandpa Wyuan. Yet I understand that for Aun, there is no better teacher in all of Tries than Grandpa Wyuan. Because the mastery of Air magic that the old man showed during the assassin clan's attack was of the highest level. And the young man is exceptionally talented in Wind. But I don't think the old man would want to teach anyone. He's been in the city for several decades, and if he hasn't taken on students all this time, he clearly doesn't plan to start now. The idea of blackmailing the old man into teaching Aun by revealing his real rank is useless, as dying so soon was not in my plans at all.
Watching the boy perform a "Wind Blade" once more, I turned the chair so the fireplace was behind me. Then, settling in more comfortably, I raised my hand. The shadow from my movement immediately appeared on the nearest wall. Keeping my gaze on it, I activated the "Shadow Player" skill, wanting to understand it better. I figured that sitting in a comfy chair without any distractions would give me a better chance than wandering the streets at night.
As soon as the new skill was activated, I immediately realized my mistake. My perception, followed by my consciousness, wavered like a person unaccustomed to the swaying of a ship when first stepping onto its deck during a stormy sea. My head spun so severely that I had to grip the armrests with my palms to avoid falling to the floor. After enduring for just a few seconds, I deactivated "Shadow Player." It took me another minute to regain my composure, steadying my breath and getting my senses in order.
Starting my training, I overlooked one detail, which caused my discomfort. The coals in the fireplace were not a steady source of light. The slightest gust of wind made the coals dim and then flare up, occasionally leading to open flames. Because of this inconsistency, my shadow, cast on the wall, constantly swayed, changing in size and density. So when I focused on the "Shadow Player," my new "shadow senses" behaved just as variably. When the fire brightened, and the shadows became denser, sensitivity increased; when the coals dimmed, it diminished. Changes in the fire's shape affected me even more profoundly. I don't even know what to compare these feelings to; it's like looking at something while your eyes constantly shift focus, both in depth and sideways. I'll likely get used to this someday, but definitely not today. For initial training, I need a more stable light source than a fireplace. I think shadows cast by candles or oil lamps are also unsuitable due to their open flame. Perhaps training outdoors under sunlight would be best. Or, even better, on a clear night when Seguna's light is ample to cast shadows. Yes! That's it! To start training with shadows cast by the Night Sister! Metaphoric, meaningful connections in Ain's magic, especially in its divine manifestations, weigh a lot.
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I felt a desire to extinguish the coals and, climbing onto the roof, test my hypothesis. But I stopped myself. First, I knew my thoughts were correct and didn't need validation. Second, it would raise questions from Aun, and I have other things to do right now. Moreover, tonight is quite cloudy, and getting consistent results would be challenging.
Rising to my feet, I began to gather and pack my things. Of course, I could have done this just before dawn, but I wanted to get some sleep. And when I wake up, it would be good if everything was ready to go. Besides, I didn't have many belongings. The heaviest and most voluminous items were my armor: the chainmail and gambeson. Especially the latter; no matter how I folded it, it wouldn't fit into my backpack. However, I didn't plan to put it in there anyway because I intended to wear it before leaving this house. The chainmail, neatly rolled up, went to the bottom of my traveling bag. I'll put it on right before stepping into the Portal, not earlier.
My fingers ran over the rings of the armor. The raven-black steel[1], treated with alchemy, responded with a pleasant coldness. I sincerely hope that the transition through the Gates of Sundbad will proceed without any hitches. It would be a shame to lose this chainmail, enchanted with Larindel's alchemy.
The thing is, alchemy in Ain right now is something like a human-sanctioned hack of divine laws and rules. Because of this, some alchemy poorly endures interactions with divine manifestations. And of all such manifestations encountered by humans, the transition through the Gates of Sundbad is one of the most powerful. It's like being literally transported to another part of the world by a divine Will, or rather, by a god-imposed Rule that, although sometimes glitchy, still works even twenty centuries after the Fall. I wasn't worried about my Metal Elevation pills; the box they're packed in is protected. Relatively simple alchemical compounds, such as healing and restoration potions and the like, essentially don't breach divine ordinances, so the Will of the Higher Beings hardly affects them. However, my chainmail, with its original chemical properties altered thanks to Larindel's alchemy, could be damaged during the Transition. The chance of that happening is small, one in ten, so I hope everything will be fine. Otherwise, it may be a problem, as I hadn't planned on any additional armor expenses after paying for the Gates!
A new memory slightly expanded my understanding of the world. The surge of recollection related to the fact that alchemical alterations performed by earthlings almost never clashed with divine manifestations. This was most likely because this art was practiced by those who were well-versed in the earthly chemistry. As a result, the alchemical transformations carried out by them were more natural than those made by local masters, so there were no conflicts with the divine Will. The more alchemy disrupts the world's physical laws, the higher the chance that its effect will collapse when faced with a divine manifestation. For the same reason, for instance, healing potions made of herbs and other natural reagents that inherently had healing properties never spoiled, even if you placed them on a true altar and left them there for a day - their qualities were only amplified by alchemical transformation.
For similar reasons, using Sundbad's Gate with Single-use powerful spells inscribed on the Core was also somewhat risky. One could get the so-called "Ripple," which means a tremor on the surface of the Core, as the divine rules attempt to erase the conditional "cheating" from it. This Ripple is not fatal, but until it passes, you can't use spells more complex than one-word ones. The "past me" experienced the Ripple twice. The first time, it lasted only three hours, but the tremors continued for almost a day in the second case. Nevertheless, I wasn't planning to get rid of the "Fire Tornado" before entering the Gate. This spell might be very useful to me. So much so that I'm willing to risk it and step into the transition with it on my Core. Moreover, as far as I "remembered," mainly the Legendary Coil Inscribed spells caused the Ripple. Magic of lower levels almost never led to such "conflicts."
As I collected and packed my belongings, Aun didn't say a word. Only when I finished and sat down in the chair again the young man asked:
"Master, perhaps you could stay a little longer, just for a day?"
"No."
"But, Master, Oma Tahayasi just gave you advice, nothing more," he argued, thinking it a strong point.
"What do you think Oma Ai does?"
"Well... It's hard to tell right away. The duties of the Ninth Praetor are quite vague. She's more of a supervisor, I suppose... Overseeing the execution of regulations and instructions. Enforcing not laws - that's the First Praetor's job - but rather the temporary directives and decrees. She can't order the guard, fleet, or officials to do something; they have their superiors for that. She... how should I put this... what word to choose... She... Recommends! Yes, that's it! She recommends."
"She's the Senate's representative overseeing the city services, right?"
"Yes, you've put it very accurately, exactly that!"
With a heavy sigh, I looked up at the young man.
"Aun. Those who oversee are often far more influential than those who directly command. Not just in Tries, but everywhere. For instance, whom should a violator fear more: the head of the guard in some castle or the personal representative of the local baron who is assigned to 'merely watch' what's happening?"
"The latter?" the young man guessed with a hint of doubt in his voice.
"Exactly," I nod. "I'll also assume that Oma Ai is responsible for overall security within the city walls. Not the kind of security managed by the guards, but a different kind. I'd say she's more subtle than the guards and operates at a different level. It seemed to me she prefers to quash all conflicts before they even begin." I took a sip of the compote. "Nip them in the bud."
"Perhaps... I don't know..."
"So here's my point. Advice from people like Oma Ai isn't just advice and not even a request. It's a veiled order. And if you pretend you didn't understand it and ignore it, the consequences can be very dire."
"Like what?" The young man leaned forward, driven by curiosity.
"Everything's in plain sight! She didn't just casually mention that I'd receive several invitations from different city power centers at once. Most likely, I personally don't interest anyone. Still, my acceptance of one invitation and rejection of others could be interpreted by someone as an insult that cannot go unanswered. This might lead to an attack on me, and the one whose invitation I accepted would take as a direct assault on their guarantees. In other words, a direct insult not only to them but to the powers they represent in the city. What do we end up with? A conflict. In which I, as the winner of the Alchemists' Guild tournament, am merely an excuse, a red flag for bulls, nothing more. The very conflict that, evidently, Oma Ai doesn't need. The kind of conflict to prevent which the Ninth Praetor might secretly bury a clueless city guest under one of the towers and then claim: 'I don't know anything; he left just before dawn.' Politics. Politics is a dirty game, especially in places like Tries, where supposedly all power is from the people, while in reality, it's a nest of influential snakes, always scheming to consolidate their power and eliminate rivals."
"Master, you're exaggerating!"
"Maybe." I shrug. "But I don't intend to find out if it's an exaggeration or not."
"But you could have just refused everyone!" The young man said, beaming with satisfaction at his solution.
"If you provoke all the spiders in a jar and don't remove your hand in time, they'll bite your palm instead of each other."
"E-e-eh..." The boy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I understand. Thank you for explaining."
"I gather you don't plan on sleeping tonight?" I ask the lad, who has just thrown some logs into the hearth.
"No. I just won't fall asleep. I'm anxious. I'd rather train - it helps clear my head."
"Sure, I don't mind." Settling more comfortably in my chair with my legs tucked in, I added, "Wake me up a quarter of an hour before dawn."
"Alright, Master."
[1] TLN: The correct term in English is "blueing" and "blue steel," but both blue and black colors are results of the same chemical process, just the exposition time is different.