Chapter 2

Varen woke before daybreak.

The previous day had been exhausting. So many things had taken place in the small span of a few hours, and even after a night's rest, Varen still felt drained. Caelie had been relentless in wanting to know more about his step-brother as well, but he'd managed to deflect her questions until she gave up out of annoyance. Thankfully, Kleven didn't seem to have much interest in his family.

Varen blinked and rubbed his sore eyes with the back of his hands, before splaying his arms out above his quilt, still unwilling to leave the cold embrace of his bed. The dark, uninviting ceiling of his inn room provided no answers as he stared up at it, trying to sort out his thoughts.

'Unexpected' was probably the best word to describe it all, and Varen wasn't the biggest fan of things happening without warning. His mother succumbing to illness and his father's remarriage mere months after her death had both been unhappy surprises. His step-mother coercing his father into cutting ties with him after his step-brother Draeon's disappearance, even more so.

Yes, he hadn't been close to them, but they were family by the loosest description of the word, even if only for a short stint. He hadn't even been allowed to continue using the family name, though he wasn't too bothered by that bit. Using his mother's maiden name, Ashtar, gave him something to remember her by.

A thump emanated from the floor below, and Varen sat up by force of habit. The sound had been the signal for him to 'get down here and help, you freeloader' for the last six years, as his benefactor had so eloquently put it. Another thump shook the floorboards a little, and he grumbled to himself, "I'm up, I'm up!"

Varen reluctantly pushed the duvet off himself and swiveled to sit on the side of the bed. Furrowing his brow in concentration, he joined his palms together. With the image of a blazing wildfire in his head, he incanted the words as they appeared in his mind, "Flame of life, bring me light and warmth – and by fire may all be cleansed."

Familiar warmth spread through his hands, and he opened his palms in a cupping motion to reveal a small hovering flame, quite the contrary to what he'd imagined. It illuminated the compact room beautifully, but at the same time it was an oh so disappointing sight to him. Generating a basic flame was the extent of his magical capabilities, no matter how much he altered the intention behind his spell. Really, it was more of a party trick than proper magic, as established mages would say.

Standing, Varen took two steps across the room to his dresser table. A lantern was on top of it, and he lit it with the magical flame before snuffing the fiery wisp out by clenching his fist. A worn duffel bag was on the floor by the dresser, and he patted dust off it as he lifted it onto the table's surface.

"Hello again, old friend," he said softly. It was the bag he'd carried all his belongings in when he was disowned, and now it was being used once again for the same purpose, as he systematically packed all that he owned into it. The Wraentisian tome that sparked the reason for his trip went into the bag as well. There was still space left over once he was nearly done, since he didn't have much to pack – a few sets of clothing, some books and a stash of money that he'd saved up were all that he had to his name.

Opening one of the dresser's drawers, Varen took out the last few articles of clothing in his possession. Instead of stuffing them into the duffel bag, he laid them out onto his bed for later. His coarse grey Archivist robes, a scarf and a pair of leather gloves. Winter was still a ways away, but it was starting to get windy out, and in addition, he was pretty sensitive to the cold.

Satisfied that he was all prepared for the Head Majstor's summons, Varen began making his way downstairs. He tiptoed down the building's wooden stairs, avoiding the spots that would creak with the ease that came with years of practice. To his surprise, there was someone else other than his benefactor that was already awake, seated at one of the inn's corner tables with a book in hand. He went unnoticed by the person as he walked behind the bar counter and into the kitchen.

"You look shit as usual," his benefactor greeted as he entered. She was a homely-looking woman in her mid-forties. A pair of round-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, and her chestnut brown hair was braided down her back. "When are you getting a haircut? It looks like someone slapped a raggedy mop on that head of yours."

"Good morning to you too, Eden," Varen said, stifling a yawn. A few strands of his black shoulder length hair dropped down between his eyes, and he swiped it back casually. "How many times have you asked that now? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"Who's keeping count? All I know is that your hair grows more unruly each and every time I do," Eden smirked as she wiped a plate clean with a rag. "If you were my son I'd take a pair of scissors to that mane myself!"

"It's a good thing I'm not then," Varen quipped back, earning him a quick lash to the side as Eden brandished her rag like a whip. His side smarted tenderly, but he couldn't stop the slight grin that came upon his face as he rubbed the spot she'd struck.

"Oh just get to work, you cheeky boy," she chuckled, the cloth in her hand back to wiping another plate down. "You better get everything done before you have to leave, you hear me?"

"Yes, Ms Eden," Varen said jokingly. Another whip of Eden's cloth came bearing down, but he was ready for it this time, sidestepping it easily and causing the older woman to scowl. Laughing at her reaction, he grabbed a kitchen knife and strode over to one of the countertops that was laden with multiple baskets of fruits and vegetables.

The knife in his hand flew expertly across the chopping board as he sliced the greens and chopped up the fruit. Eden finished cleaning the stack of plates and turned her attention to several large pots of soup that simmered on the stove. Opening the lid of one, she grabbed a handful of chopped vegetables and tossed them in, before giving it a few stirs with her ladle. They worked together silently and efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

With his hands busy at the familiar task, Varen allowed his mind to wander back to the day before. He recalled what Head Majstor Zharin had said before he had dismissed them from his office.

Friends, huh…

Kleven and Caelie were certainly pleasant acquaintances at the very least, now that Varen knew their names, but he didn't know if they could be considered friends. A peculiar question popped up in his head, and he asked, "Eden, are we friends?"

"You're an idiot if you think otherwise, Varen," replied Eden without a second's thought, not even turning her attention from her task. "Why do you ask that? It's an extremely silly question, in case you haven't noticed."

Varen dwelled on the thought. It felt weird to think of her as his friend. Eden was his saviour, the one who had given him a roof to sleep under when he found himself homeless. It did make him happy to know for sure that the older woman thought more of him than just someone to take pity on and care for, though.

"I've just been thinking about what makes a friend," he admitted.

"Varen, you're overthinking things again," Eden closed a pot lid and turned to face him, a look of mild concern on her face. "Friends are what you make them to be. It's as simple as that. Have you made some new friends at work?"

"I don't know. I've only known them a day, but someone referred to us as friends, and it got me thinking. They're heading out with me into the Unknown Territories to the dig site I told you of, actually," Varen said, remembering to stick with the white lie he'd told her about his trip.

"Take the chance to get to know them during your journey then, and you'll know in time if you're friends. And when you get back, bring them over for a meal! They're the first people from work or school that you've ever mentioned to me, and I want to meet them!"

"When I get back," nodded Varen, making a mental note, very nearly saying 'if' instead of 'when'.

"You're sure you have no idea how long you'll be?"

"Why would I lie, Eden?" lied Varen, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. "You know how these archaeological digs are. Progress will be even slower since it's a newly discovered site. Less than three months, hopefully," he recited the lines he'd prepared for her.

Or maybe the world ends, he omitted.

Eden looked at him thoughtfully, and for a moment he was afraid his hidden nervousness had been seen through. "I'll keep your room open for when you return," she said, and Varen sighed in relief internally.

"You don't have to, Eden. I'm getting paid for the job," Varen hoped he was, anyway, "and I'll have enough to rent my own place—"

"I'll keep your room for you," repeated Eden, and Varen ceased his protesting. No one could change the woman's mind after she'd made it up, and that he knew from experience. He finished cutting the remainder of the produce and moved to her side to assist her with the cooking.

"It's fine, Varen, I can handle it," assured Eden with a smile. "I don't want to tire you out, and you've got a long journey ahead of you. Go get your things, you'll have to leave soon, right?"

"Hmm? No, not yet, only when the Head Majstor summons me."

"But he already has, Varen," Eden laughed softly. "His messenger arrived before you came down, but I asked for a bit of time."

"Oh… the person on the dining floor?"

Eden nodded, placing her ladle down and drawing him in for a hug. "Come back safe, you understand? Give your best and do a good job, but come back safe. I have a surprise prepared for you when you do."

"I will," Varen promised. "I don't know if I can, but I will, Eden."

"That makes no sense, but I'm glad to hear it," she said, squeezing him tighter in the embrace before releasing him. "Don't keep them waiting any longer! Just get your bags and go, no need to tell little old me when you do. I'll be waiting for you to get back!"

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Eden pushed him out of the kitchen before Varen could get another word in edgewise. She'd tried to hide them, but he'd seen the tears pooling at the edges of her eyes, and he felt guilty for making her cry.

At that instant, determination welled up in his chest, and he swore to himself that he would succeed in their investigation and find a way to prevent another possible cataclysmic event. He'd accepted the Head Majstor's proposal because he wanted more in his life, but now he decided he would do his best for Eden as well.

The Head Majstor's messenger was still seated when he'd finished changing and came back down to the inn's first floor with his bag in tow, though this time she wasn't hidden behind her book. She seemed to be a few years older than him, dressed in the purple robes of a Majstor. A Junior Majstor, by the looks of it, as her attire lacked the symbol that signified seniority in rank. It also lacked the insignia of the Majstoria, Zharin's elite unit, which Varen found hardly surprising. He'd have recognised her face otherwise, since members of the Majstoria were basically celebrities in the capital. Though, he supposed she could have been undercover, or still unqualified to make her public debut.

"Varen Ashtar. Are you finally ready?" she addressed him in a moderately annoyed tone, and Varen nodded. "Let's go then."

xxxxx

The sun was still rising as they reached the city's main road. The capital city Ivolas, sharing its namesake with that of the Kingdom's, was built into the side of a mountain, and the city roads snaked a winding path from its base to the Royal Palace. The Palace was the city's highest point, and it was carved from the rock about midway from the mountain's summit. A cold wind blew, and Varen wrapped his scarf tighter around his shoulders such that it slightly obscured his mouth.

"Are we not meeting the Head Majstor at the Archives?" he asked as the messenger took the downward sloping road, leading him downhill in the direction of the city's gates.

"Head Master Zharin has matters to attend to. I will go into the details once we meet your companions," she replied curtly. She offered no further explanation for the moment, and Varen didn't ask either. He took the chance instead to soak in the city's sights while the streets were still empty.

The Kingdom's capital had transformed a little since the last time Varen had taken a good look at it, and that was quite a while ago since he didn't get out much. What time he had before and after work was spent helping Eden out around the inn. The potholes in the well-used roads had been fixed with new cobblestone, and numerous new buildings had sprouted up as well, giving the city a more compact feel to it. Not that it had been extremely spacious before.

It took another fifteen minutes of walking for them to reach the gates, even after taking shortcuts in the form of stairs that connected the different road levels. The twins were already waiting there – Kleven was leaning on the side of a carriage, and Caelie was seated on the carriage's back step, fast asleep. Varen noted from the bags at their feet that they had packed relatively light as well. Kleven seemed to have only one rucksack, like him, while his twin sported two hand-carry bags that were obviously filled to the brim.

Kleven noticed their arrival and nudged his other half awake, causing her to splutter awake unceremoniously with a dazed expression. Drool stained the side of her lips, and she sleepily wiped it away before stretching out into a long yawn. It was all in all an unladylike sight, and Varen couldn't help but chuckle silently.

"How are any of you functioning?" Caelie murmured through half-open eyes. "No one should be awake at this ungodly hour, it's just not right!"

"Ahem," their Majstor-messenger cleared her throat, drawing their attention from the petite blonde's complaints. "The Head Majstor has prepared transportation for the three of you to the border town of Lakenside. It will be a three day journey by carriage, and you'll find relevant provisions have already been prepared."

She produced a sealed letter and a small sack of coins from her robe pockets, handing them over to Varen. "Further instructions are included within, and the Head Majstor requests that you open it along your ride. The gold is for further food supplies, miscellaneous usage, as well as a contingency for any possible emergencies. That should be everything. Any questions?"

Nothing came to mind, and Varen shook his head. He dropped the sack of coins into his duffel bag and tucked the letter into his own pockets.

The twins indicated that they had no questions of their own either, and the woman continued, "Then my job at playing messenger is done, and I shall return to my duties. I wish you luck on your mission, whatever it is."

Without so much as a backward glance, the Junior Majstor turned tail and left.

"Are all Majstors so… professional?" Kleven said, slightly amused by her standoffishness.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Varen mused, his gaze following the Junior Majstor until she was out of sight. "Probably felt that it was beneath her to act as a simple errand girl, just because she's part of the rare few that can properly utilise magic."

"Not the biggest fan of the practitioners, are you?" observed Kleven. "Although, I'm inclined to agree. The students in Magic Studies were always haughty around us when we were still in the Academy, even though they were in the minority."

"Was your step-brother like that too?" Caelie slurred, her eyelids still droopy.

"I thought you'd given up asking about my family," said Varen with a smirk, dodging her question once again. He lightly pushed her out of the way to climb aboard the carriage as she did her best impression of a sulk.

The front flaps of the carriage were rolled up, revealing the two horses that would pull it. Their coach driver seemed to be conspicuously missing, however.

"Huh… did either of you see the coachman when you arrived earlier?" Varen asked the twins as they boarded the carriage as well, with Kleven giving Caelie a hand with both her bags.

"No, and we were waiting for over an hour!" said Caelie, letting out another yawn. She flopped down lazily, using one of her bags as a makeshift pillow and taking up the entirety of the seat opposite her male companions. Within seconds, she was fast asleep again.

"I believe this is one of those driverless carriages that's all the rage now," Kleven stated after a moment's thought.

Varen looked at him with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?"

"The brainchild of an ex-Majstor, apparently, who specialised in taming and exerting control over animals. Quite a niche, as you can imagine, and he left the ranks of the mages to form this business. The transport guilds were up in arms about it a while back since it was taking their business, so now he only works for nobles, or those with enough coin," the blond explained. "We're quite privileged to experience this, if it turns out this carriage is one of them."

"It sounds like he would have been quite useful against certain Vaettir," Varen said pointedly. He couldn't deny that the man's entrepreneurial spirit was impressive though. The idea certainly wouldn't have occurred to him if he'd been in the man's place. "So how does it work?"

"He implants the routes into the horses minds, I think, so horses only work the roads they're familiar with. Here, I think this is how we get them to move…"

Varen shifted his legs in as Kleven shuffled past him. The horses' reins were tied firmly to a metal post at the front of the carriage, and Kleven reached out to give the reins a flick. At the command, the pair of steeds neighed and leaned into their harnesses, and the carriage creaked faintly as it jolted forward.

The sudden movement caused Kleven to lose his balance. He stumbled backwards and crashed loudly into Varen with his full weight, the latter having unsuccessfully tried to hold the bigger blond up. They lay still for a second, breathing hard and groaning in pain. Miraculously, neither the horses nor Caelie had been affected by the din, with the former trotting forward single-mindedly and the latter snoring through it all.

"You're gonna have to get off me," Varen pointed out as they caught their breaths. "My hands are a little crushed."

"Right, sorry about that."

With a grunt, Kleven pushed himself off, using a hand on the floor of the carriage as leverage. He settled into his seat closer to the front of the coach, effectively switching places from where he'd been sitting at the back. He rolled his shoulders, hissing softly from where he'd smashed them against the wood of the carriage.

"Are you okay?" Varen asked, clutching his arms and rubbing his thighs, sore from the sudden addition of Kleven's weight. He felt extremely aware now that his companion's back was so much broader than his own from their physical contact, and strangely, the thought gave him a sense of comfort.

"I've had worse," Kleven said, his soft gaze locked on Caelie's sleeping form. "We had a rough upbringing, and let's just say I had to get good at taking hits to protect her."

"Ah…" Varen mumbled, intrigued about the twins' past now that Kleven had offered him a glimpse of it. He felt bad now for denying Caelie's efforts, considering the fact that he was basically now in her shoes.

Kleven nodded but said nothing, still looking wistfully over his sister as she slumbered peacefully.

"You're very much unlike my older step-brother," Varen offered hesitantly, wanting to break the silence but at the same time anxious speaking about his family. "Draeon was the exact opposite. He treated me like I didn't exist. Most of them did, actually."

Kleven nodded again, an understanding smile on his lips. "We all have ghosts in our pasts, eh?" He paused for a second, then added, "If Caelie's bothering you with her questions, I'll tell her to stop once she wakes."

"No, I think I'll be up for sharing it with you guys soon," Varen shook his head, the words coming out before he could think over the offer. "I… just need a little more time to get comfortable with the idea, if that makes any sense."

No one other than Eden and his ex-family knew of his past, and Varen had never even considered revealing it to another before. For some reason, however, he felt like he could lay any secret upon Kleven, and the man wouldn't judge him or speak to another soul about it. They were the same age, but Varen felt extremely immature in comparison.

"If you're sure," shrugged Kleven. He continued with a laugh, "Let's not tell Caelie of this conversation, though. She'll throw a fit if she finds out that you told me your step-brother's name before she could prise it out from you."

"Agreed," said Varen, adding to the laughter with his own.

A tired yawn came on, and Varen raised his hand to cover his open mouth out of politeness. The cool weather and the light swaying of their carriage certainly didn't help, and he felt his eyelids grow heavier by the second.

"Take a rest," Kleven suggested, Varen's drowsiness apparent. He reached over and tugged on the rear carriage flaps, unfurling them and obscuring them to the world outside. "There's really not much else to do."

"Yeah…" Varen mumbled in agreement. He leant back against the carriage, closing his eyes, and sleep soon took him.

xxxxx

Zharin studied the missive before him, his lips curved in an unsatisfied frown as he dwelled on its contents. It threatened to overturn the balance of power amongst the Three Kingdoms, and it annoyed him to no end. The threat of Vaettir on their borders and the possibility of another Cataclysm was more than enough for him to worry about, much less war between fellow men. Though, he was sure the other Kingdoms weren't as concerned about the first two factors as compared to the Ivolas Kingdom.

The Kingdom of Va'droga offered in their missive the choice of vassalage, and Zharin had no misconceptions of what would happen if his Kingdom refused. The memorandum was even signed off with 'The Va'drogan Empire'! Arrogant bastards. It was a year before the 200th anniversary of the current Three Kingdoms too. Perhaps the Va'drogan King saw fit to unite the lands of Ivolas with his own as a present to himself.

In the event of war, Zharin was under no illusion that the Va'drogan forces would utterly annihilate the Ivolan forces in battle. The Ivolas Kingdom held the strength of the best mages in the land, rare enough as they were, but even the power of the Majstoria could only go so far. A full out war would be mainly fought with footsoldiers, and that shifted the advantage to the Va'drogan side.

The army the men of the north fielded was far superior to their own, nearly three times as large and better trained. War and battle was the specialty of theirs, after all, and it was little wonder that their lands were the safest from the Vaettir.

Similarly, the Auhrenth Kingdom had safe borders, though it fielded the smallest standing army amongst them. The merchant kingdom of the west lived for trade, and as such had the largest concentration of skilled mercenary groups and guilds, loyal to the coin of their employers.

Zharin sighed heavily, his tireless mask off for the moment. The greatest chance they had of survival outside of submitting to the Va'drogans as subjects in their 'Empire' was to ally with the Auhrenths. War would only affect the merchant kingdom's trade, after all. That was unless the Auhrenths had already agreed to supply the Va'drogans in their war… which was a troubling thought indeed.

Still, Zharin could think of one trump card – knowledge of the impending Cataclysm. If the prophecy was true, then the Ivolas Kingdom could simply hunker down and prepare for it. There would still be casualties, that went without any doubt, but they would suffer fewer losses than the other unprepared Kingdoms. It would be a monumental task to convince the Council and the King to utilise such a strategy, however, unless there was irrefutable evidence.

He could only hope that the Ashtar boy's investigations bore fruit.