A platoon of guards were strewn about the bend of the mansion on a hill near the town. The manor stood resolute, a castle of lofty edifices and azure canopies.

The open bathroom emitted steam, and a middle-aged woman with a towel draped over her chest to toe was stepping out. She found herself in a large bedroom radiated by yellow. Little did she fathom the presence of another figure in that room—completely in the nude, sitting upon a solitary chair nestled in the corner. His hand pressed against the smooth marble surface, whereupon a curious metamorphosis began to unfold. First, his hands succumbed to the transformative touch, then swiftly, his entire being became a layer of fashioned marble.

The naked man approached the woman with firm footsteps, and the woman sensed an anticipation stirring within her. She thought it was her husband, then turned around only to find a plain visage covered in marble.

A startled gasp escaped her lips, her throat constricting, the harbinger of an imminent wail held captive within. But the marble man seized her neck with an unyielding grip as her windpipe gradually succumbed to the stone's enchantment. Poor woman, she could only stick out her tongue. Tears welled up in her eyes. She choked upon the solid chunks of marble wedged in her throat. The marble man continued his strangling until his victim became a veritable masterpiece of marble sculpture. Frozen in time, her left hand clutched his and her right hand reached out. A futile plea for mercy was frozen forevermore.

The killer disappeared into the night, while the statue remained in the dim room, waiting to be found and "adored by art worshippers" in sorrow.

***

In the wake of the unearthing of The Golden Statue, the following afternoon found the civil guards promptly attending to John Philo's well-being. There he sat, listless upon his cot, his gaze vacant and devoid of life's spark. One of the guards clutched his communication device, muttering that John Philo remained incarcerated. The prison's surveillance recorder stationed in the dimly lit corridors also captured no trace of any peculiar occurrences throughout the ordeal.

The civil guards departed except for a particular lone wolf who approached John's cell. "Have you heard the latest news? One of the wrongdoer's parents met an unnatural demise, transformed into an exquisite golden statue. It seems someone is waging a battle on behalf of 'your justice,'" he divulged.

John Philo merely cast a fleeting glance in response before reverting to his vacant stare, this time with a slight smirk on his dry lips.

"Perhaps those rascals didnae get the punishment they deserved. But resorting to vigilantism, not to mention the misuse of magic, is nae light offense. Whoever that was, will be caught, sooner or later," proclaimed the civil guard.

The last officer refused to linger with the bereaved, again leaving him alone.

***

A pair of Crimsonmane siblings finished their dinner while talking to each other. Alicia's rambling was up and down like a roller coaster ride. Starting from how she found Orb floating from her house, and how she got recognition from Orb to access its power through her toil and pain (being hit by a meteor). She then recounted her experience of dealing with a Protos particle-consuming mage that nearly killed her, to her experiences of practising magic. Those and so much more. Leith listened with intent—mostly thinking about the most rational approach to her story, perhaps. A young girl, struck literally by a celestial object, buried beneath the debris, only to emerge unscathed from the layered ruins and become a mage in a single night.

However, looking at the world of thaumaturgy and the current context, it might have been calculated in the probability of ill situations that would happen in one's life. It might have been a really tragic event, but it was not the strangest of all.

"… And that's how I connected with Orb!" Alicia finally concluded. "How about you? Was the family gathering after so long impressive?"

Leith finished his dessert. "Impressive? Most of them are still arseholes."

"Table manners, Leith."

"Aye, sorry. At least we get along with some of them. The family meeting was pure stress. Even though it's only been a long time since we've been in touch, they have already burdened our family with hunners of work."

"The preparation you said on the telecomm?"

"Aye, and Alicia," Leith changed the subject for a moment. "Uh… about Orb. Do you ken what power it has?"

The silence crept over them before Alicia dared to respond, "After remembering those events, I think I recognise the power that Orb has. At least what I've learned from Mama."

"And that power is...?"

Another silence, but Alicia was yoked with tension as if the forthcoming words would make her shivering nape hair rise until they were plucked one by one, and the very fabric of the universe was unravelled.

"The Divine Grace. Pure Arcane."

Leith reclined in his chair and let out a relieved sigh. "At least Papa and I won't have to waste any more time thanks to you, sister."

Alicia was taken aback. "So the mandate given to you is to find the source of the pure Arcane? Are they pranking you or something?"

"A prank, maybe not. In short, Grandpa Alasdair found Mama's journal."

"J-journal from Mama?" Alicia froze instantly, awaiting Leith's further revelations.

"From the journal, Mama wrote that she was looking for pure Arcane resources outside the Empire of Roma. The last clue she found was that the mage Lailoken or Languoreth might have this might, and they hid it here in Trinketshore, where Lailoken's sister passed."

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Alicia had expressed no reaction yet.

"And some of the kins,"—Leith continued, as he was looking for a more refined vocabulary other than "arseholes" or "bastard"—"who hate us said that it's just fictitious writing from Mama's unstable mind. But Grandfather Alasdair was so obsessed with her journal regardless, that he asked her family to keep searching for that might, which is now...," Leith raised his hand. "...is on your very hands."

Such an explanation invited the bombardment of questions. "H-hold on! W-why was Mama looking for that power? Where's the journal now? I need to see it too! And why is Grandpa Alasdair looking for it as well?"

"First, I dinnae ken. Second, Papa is holding it. Of course, he won't hand it over to a fourteen-year-old child, will he? Third, what else if not to assert the dominance or political influence of the house of Crimsonmane? That's why I didnae call Papa right away. It would be good if we could discuss it more privately regarding this power. And one other thing; who else knows about this other than your two friends?"

"Only them, I guess. The victims of yesterday's black magic… I hope they remember nothing after the attack."

"Keep your fingers crossed then," Leith said.

***

The night was supposed to be quiet, but sobs and sirens opposed it. And also the furor of the news. The actual husband had found the deposit of the maestro's work. Not even a thousand bodyguards could prevent Lana Bain from becoming another magnum opus. According to the words, Lana Bain herself was the mother of James Bain, the second culprit of the Esmer Philo murder case. The killer displayed the statue on a marble cube, bearing the same threatening inscription as the one the night Francis Little stole his turn at the same fate.

The night was not long enough for the crowds of authorities and curious residents who flocked to the Bain Castle Museum until sunrise. A few felt pity, but most sang the thanksgiving and spat in the courtyard of the castle.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Alicia rose from her bed and decided to stretch her legs with a morning run. This was not her habitual activity, but she knew building her stamina meant building her mana, especially since she was officially an Orb Mage. She made her way past the Bain Castle courtyard, still bustling with activity as civil guards bustled about. Her eyes then glanced at the unfamiliar group of practitioners with yellow armbands. The wizards from the capital, just as Leith promised. An obvious revelation for her that the latest murder case was in the castle, and of course, its victim was not the murderess. She veered away from the castle and made her way across the bridge only to find another tumultuous with an additional putrid stench (wrong route, Alicia).

Alicia's shoulders weighed heavily upon hearing the two fresh news: Caleb Dune, the self-proclaimed mage who threatened her he would return, would not return. Another one was that the new Khaos champion might surface. This time, the motivation was clearer, according to Alicia's hypothesis; to hunt down the perpetrator's family members other than the perpetrators themselves. The killer wanted to force them to confess to their abuse of the law and demanded the authorities punish them with more commensurate measures.

Alicia passed through the square before returning home. The town square had never been so populous before. The protesters were camping there, still waiting for an answer from the mayor regarding the Esmer case. She took the time to a burned restaurant due to a tragic incident she was involved in. They filled the grounds with wreaths, candles, and prayer cards—funny because they barely prayed. Alicia just remembered she had not even had time to leave the house since then. She contemplated to Silent Divine for a moment in the hope that the tavern owner named Nancy earned her rightfully Eternal Peace.

Before breakfast, Alicia practised her magic shots in the backyard as usual. Leith, who just woke up, saw the dining table filled with nothing but utter void.

"Alicia, breakfast?" he asked.

"I'm practising, Leith. If you don't want to wait, cook yourself."

Leith sighed in dissatisfaction and decided to sit on the terrace steps. He did not want to lay his finger on the cooking utensils at all and expected his sister to take care of the kitchen affairs.

He then saw the way Alicia shot her magic. The shots were quite accurate for shooting while moving. However, the young lad noticed there was a slight oddity in the way her hand shot. "Alicia! Is pure Arcane fired like that, or was it just your hand gestures?"

Alicia stopped her training for a moment, turning her body. "Eh, what do you mean, Leith?"

"Yer hands were stiff. Whereas when you moved Orb, your hands were more flexible."

"That so? I learned to shoot from Nadine, you see. Hey, since there's a real wizard here, how about you teach me a thing or two?"

"No wonder." His answer was short. "Shooting magic isn't the same as shooting a rifle. Plus, your moves are quite foreign to Western mystic arts. Western-rite sorcery is probably the closest one based on your gestures and the absence of spellcasting. What mystic art are you actually using?"

The same question was asked by her two friends. Magic was usually applied through a discipline called the mystic arts, which took various forms throughout the world. The problem was that Alicia did it spontaneously as if there had been some inspiration from her alignment with Orb.

"I'm not using any magic control methods other than staying focused on maintaining synchronisation with Orb, I think."

"Wow, really? Hmm… That's… a novelty," Leith was somewhat amazed. "I've seen no one controlling pure Arcane directly. Well, not in Wizardry. But if you look at most mystic arts, you can always wiggle your hand while shooting to make your aim more flexible. Unlike shooting arrows or rifles where you lose control of the projectiles once they're ejected, you can still control the magic energy as long as the energy tip hasn't completely dislodged from its source. That rigid motion you did is usually for firing the energy on the larger scale, which requires more control."

Alicia happily accepted her brother's feedback, trying to put into practice what he just suggested. Orb's plasma energy was not much different from the ordinary magic one, that was once her ball pal's premise. Alicia twirled her hands to accumulate the power escaping from her Orb then flung it with grace. This way of shooting was not only easier, but also maintaining synchronisation with Orb was way more effortless. It demanded her to be more relaxed, graceful, and elegant. She shot while dancing before the dolls, but her accuracy remained pretty much true.

"Leith?"

"Hm?"

"Ye're pure dead brilliant! Och, my brother is one canny lad! Your words are proper sound! My shot is much easier and my focus is even more belter! Why canne I find it in Ma's Encyclopaedia—"

"Eh, Alicia! C'mon, it's just a basic magic shooting technique—"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Alicia while still shaking Leith's body. "Do you have any other tricks? Come on, tell me! You know what? Let's practice together! Wouldn't that be more fun?"

Alicia kept pleading happily in front of him, until she finally laughed out loud after realising how ridiculous she had become.

Since living in Trinketshore, his sister has always been trying to be a smiley person no matter how hard her life was. But this was the first time Leith had seen Alicia's joy this genuine. Her sweet, wide smile felt even more sincere. Oh, Alicia was indeed one bonnie lass with her precious smile. A national treasure of Caledonia! A positive atmosphere ran through his spine. Leith also smiled amusedly at her.

"Uh… sure, I have a few tricks, but… with my current amount of mana, I could only give you an answer, and I did. You know what I need? Caledonian breakfast set full of protein to unlock new tricks!"

"Ahhh… Not fair! Leith, come on, tell me! Please?"

"Caledonian Breakfast Set!"

"Just one trick, one trick...! After that, the Caledonian breakfast set!"

"A Caledonian breakfast set first. After that, some great tips from the grand wizard, Leith Crimsonmane!"

And they kept arguing until the older sister gave up and accepted the offer from the grand wizard Leith Crimsonmane. []