I would say I had done my bags if I had any personal items, to begin with. I probably was the most austere and minimalist ellari in Ferilyn, my personal belongings were kept to a minimum. Clothes, writing equipment, bath items, and… No, that’s all.

Adrian didn’t even like visiting my room because he said it depressed him. I had to push him hard when I made him watch over when I casted Mystic’s Dominion for the first time. Monica had a lot of alchemical and mechanical apparatus, Adrian had some training equipment, and even Marissa had some jewelry. And it wasn’t jewelry used for wearing, but to be DECORATIONS.

Ellari loved their decorations.

I had once thought it was a natural phenomenon, they just got a lot of things over the years because they were so longevous, but no, they actually needed to have every single inch of a room filled. It was like an innate nervous tick.

I had never felt it, but if my friends got sick (and I meant that literally) when they came to my room, I couldn’t just push it aside as a quirk but as an actual feature. How in tarnation did evolution decide that ellari had to be surrounded by opulence, I couldn’t say.

Damn, how did evolution decide that ellari should have such absurdly long ears? There were a lot of questions that lacked answers...

So, yeah.

All my belongings were in a single leather bag.

I waited in front of the Lan’el military ground with a letter in my hand. This one hadn’t been sent by Fynn, but by Amira. It told me to come here the first day of the week in the morning, which I did.

Today there were also two armored guards on the gate of the perimeter, though I could tell they were different ones by their souls. At some point, I had begun recognizing people by souls rather than looks. It was a more reliable method as no one could hide their soul, not even me.

Before I could even talk to the guards and ask them for directions, a soldier appeared from the other side of the walls.

“Mystic Nightfallen, I presume?” The purple-colored man said.

“That’s me.” I nodded.

The man didn’t wear armor, but he did wear a teal uniform. A quick gaze was enough for me to see that it was more enchanted than the armor the guards had. The soldier himself wasn’t anything to scoff at. He looked between hundred-fifty and two-hundred years old and his soul backed power according to his age. High ten-star.

My sense of strength had become scuffed as I was surrounded by geniuses, but that age was usually when good mages reached the tenth star. Alatea and Kirielle were an anomaly, being at the eleventh star whilst only being a century old. And Marissa was also very ahead of the curve as she was of the nine-star at thirty-three.

I, on the other hand, am a statistical error and shouldn’t be counted.

“Hmm, you are certainly young.” The soldier responded in a very similar train of thought. “Where are my manners? First Sergeant Tir’ne Shyz.” He offered me a handshake.

I was shocked to find someone with a traditional name. Those were rare. Men in Ferilyn used to have a composite name, though that tradition was fading to obscurity. I didn’t know why, but Father did try to give me such kind of name when I was born.

“Edrie Nightfallen, though I guess you already knew that,” I said as I answered his shake.

“Follow me, then.” Tir’ne turned his back. “I’ll first guide you to the dormitories and then I can debrief you on your schedule.”

I walked beside the First Sergeant with a similar pace as I examined the place. The military zone was as deserted as the previous time I had come. There were soldiers, but not many. It was hard to say exact numbers as the concentration of high-star mages obscured my Soul Sight, but I would say a hundred or two. It wasn’t big considering the size of the Lan’el perimeter, almost taking a third of the whole district. But then again, considering a single ten-star mage could obliterate a city if not stopped, those hundred soldiers were a force to be reckoned with.

Not everyone was at the tenth star, of course. Most were at the nine-star mark, with some eight-star sprinkled here and there. The ten-star mages were around a dozen or so. There were two exceptions: the Arcane Veil and the Ceaseless Storm. Which were the only eleven-star mages.

One had single-handedly warded a whole district with barriers two decades prior, and the other had reached a stalemate against the strongest dragonborn alive, the Emperor’s Right Hand Caius.

“I see you don’t carry much baggage.” Shyz's comment took me out of my trance.

“I travel light.” I joked. Though when the soldier frowned at me, I could guess he hadn’t caught the joke. “I don’t have many possessions under my name, I mostly spent my time at Sin’fal Academy’s library between books or practicing magic.”

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“That’s good.” He added. “That kind of commitment will do you well here. The higher-ups like discipline and ambition.”

“How lucky I am to have both then.” Now he smiled at me.

A little light humor did good for everyone.

Shyz guided me inside a short building. Most buildings here were one story high. The most obvious exception was the amphitheater where the demonstration between the academy and the military had taken place a week ago and the administrative building where Amira’s office was.

This building in particular was cube-shaped, with walls of whitestone and a pompous white door of ter’nar wood. Shyz opened the door and welcomed me to enter.

“This is your room.” The First Sergeant said.

I gave him a curious look. “The whole place?” He nodded. “Just for me?”

The room, or rather the building, was fitted with a cushion sofa, a pink carpet that covered most of the place, an enormous wooden desk, and a mattress bed.

“For who would it be then?” Shyz added in confusion. “Where do you think you were going to live?”

“A barrack or something? I don’t know how the military works.” I responded.

“A barrack?” He laughed hard. “What do you think we are, wyrms?” The soldier said the last part with a derogatory connotation. “Good one, Private. With those jokes, you are going to get far.”

“Yeah…” I wasn’t sure what to say.

Racism (or xenophobia I guess) aside, the place was quite amazing. Whilst not at the same level as the room I had gotten at the academy thanks to its meritocratic-like structure, it was far better than the shared dormitories I had in my first years.

The room wasn’t that big, it didn’t have either bathroom or kitchen, but it still was quite spacious. Even my old shared dormitory had a bathroom, but I wasn’t bothered much. It lacked any real windows, but it did have a skylight big enough to illuminate the place without the need for complementary Mage Lights.

Considering I spent most of my time reading, meditating, or practicing magic, I didn’t need much more space. Especially when most of my repertoire of spells were of the non-destructive kind and could be used virtually anywhere.

“Though as much as I would like to leave you here,” Shyz began talking, instantly snapping for my attention, “I fear we have some things to do. Leave your bag here and meet me outside.” The soldier left the room.

I didn’t have much choice, so I left my satchel on top of the beg and followed him outside.

“Alright, the first order of the day is to meet the rest of our squadron.” The First Sergeant said as soon as I stepped out of the doorway.

“Our squadron?” I added.

“But of course.” He nodded. “I’m third-at-command of the Vanguard Order, which means I am your superior unless the Ceaseless Storm or the Arcane Veil themselves decide to supersede me. In that case, you’ll listen to either of them.”

With a look at Tir’ne’s soul, I could tell he was a good arcanist, as the violet-purple of his soul shone brightly. But it seemed weird to me that he was just behind Fynn and Amira on the line of command. He didn’t look that powerful to me. Perhaps his position was because of his age rather than actual power. The meritocracy in Ferilyn prioritized powerful mages, but it didn’t outright ignore others. If that wasn’t the case, the manufacturing districts of Nas’tor and Uin’tas wouldn’t have as much political power as they had.

“How many people in the Vanguard Order there are?” I asked him as I followed him.

“Not many. Around two dozen.” The arcanist responded. “But every single member is at bare minimum a ten-star mage, so our power is unrivaled in all Ferilyn.”

“Two dozen ten-star mages?” I almost choked with those numbers. That was most of the ten-star mages present in all of the district, let alone the military perimeter.

“Plus two eleven-star mages.” He added with a grin. “It’s quite surprising what the heroes of the Wyrm’s Landing managed to do in just two decades. This order is quite new as it was founded just after the erection of the Violet Sky.”

It would never cease to amaze me how ellari, especially elder ones, could talk about decades as if they were just singular years.

Shyz guided me inside the administrative building where Amira’s office and the small training arena were, but he took me in another direction. Soon enough, we found ourselves in a cozy restroom filled with people clad in teal uniforms.

Nineteen mages were sitting and talking to each other, every single one of them of the tenth star. The soldiers were a myriad of colors, some blue, others purple, and some violet. There was a single man who had a fuchsia tone. From time to time, you would find ellari that deviated from the typical skin color scheme, normally those colors were either pink or fuchsia.

“Stop with the chit-chat, you all,” Tir’ne said with a jovial tone, not bothered at all. “I’d like to present you the new member of the Vanguard Order.”

He pointed at me with his palms wide open, ceding me the stage to present myself.

“Edrie Nightfallen,” I added with a slight traditional bow, “psychimancer and manaweaver.”

As of late, I felt my arcanist part fell out of use, and with good reason. But I still was capable as always to weave mana and dispel other people’s spells as that skill was related to my magical prowess rather than affinity. Though I won’t deny Arcane affinity helped with it.

“Isn’t he a bit young?” The fuchsia man said. “He doesn’t even look fifty.” At least I could distinguish that there was no hostility in his voice or soul. It was just a healthy dose of doubt.

“He was recruited by the Storm himself if you doubt his power.” First Sergeant Shyz defended me. “At the bare minimum, I can assure you he’s a ten-star mage like all of you.”

Some whispers flew across the room, but not many. Most accepted their superior’s words as a matter of fact.

“What’s a psychimancer?” A young violet woman asked once the whispering ceased.

I said young, but she was still over fifty years old. Most likely eighty. Still, it was commendable for someone younger than a century to be at that point.

“A psychimancer is a specialization of a mystic,” I responded. The woman looked at me with a brief confused look as I said the word mystic. “Soul mage.”

“Oh.” She finally understood.

I had this obsession with telling the most educated names of mage types, but it wasn’t like the words were unknown or something. Sure, most people would say light mage instead of lumenmancer, but the word was self-describing. Or was it just me?

“Then what does this specialization of soul mage entail?” The young mage, an arcanist, inquired once more.

“Psychimancers specialize in the strengthening of their own soul and the manipulation of others.” Suddenly, the room tensed up. The young arcanist tried to backstep even when she was sitting down. “This manipulation is often healing,” I said to soothe the congregation down. And maybe used a bit of dominion-powered soothing there.

…

Maybe their fear was justified.