River got out of bed early and rushed to the huge double doors of the manor of his aunt, occasionally greeting the housemaids and butlers he passed by.  His maternal aunt, Melinda Prance, was a busy woman; she was a well-known owner of a carriage manufacturer company, or better known as White Horse.  Her work, often times took her to places far away, thus leaving the house in the safekeeping of her servants.  

This was also the reason why, in all the years that had passed since River had come to the place, no one knew of his secret: that he was training in the art of sage craft. 

Every human born in the world of Mana had an internal energy called orb energy.  When people refer to the form this energy took, they called it inner orb.  This inner orb invisibly existed within the very body of a human person; its size determined if one were eligible to use magic or not.  Usually, an orb with a diameter of fifty meters was enough to cast magic; however, to become a mage, one must have at least an inner orb with a diameter of a hundred meter.  Those that passed this mark were considered Class F mages.

For those that doubted if they could become mages, it had been proven by magalogists (scholars who studied theoretical magic) that orb energy did grow through practice. 

River on the other hand was one of the rare ‘invalids’ whose inner orb’s diameter was a whopping one foot. It was a rare occurrence, but not impossible. No information as of current were found to support the claim that invalids could grow their inner orbs by practicing hard; but still, River practiced hard.

River was a determined boy, once he saw something that interested him he would run towards it regardless of the impediments; hence he was determined to understand the deep realities of magic even if he could not practice it.

Since he did not have magic, he made up for it by studying.  He probably knew more about magic than an average mage did—if he had access to a library of books tackling the mysteries of magic that magalogists were discussing, he would have probably rushed headlong to consume them in his head. 

The knowledge of magic filled his mind, magic was amazing, and the study of it was intellectually stimulating.  Because of this, River practiced hard in the pursuit of sage craft. He didn’t plan on becoming a full-fledge sage though, he just wanted to be an honorary one. Sages were those who sacrificed the size of their inner orbs in order so they could accommodate the natural energy of nature; hence, not only did they have no magic, they were also powerless. However, because of this, they were able to gaze into the very essence of orb energies—at least those that had reached a high enough level.

Sages could sense impending dangers from magical beasts, or tell the weather, and forebode calamities—to top it all off, they had a library full of books regarding magic.

He ran hastily while wearing his backpack filled with rocks as part of his exercise routine. Since River had no talent in magic he worked hard to strengthen his body, hoping that someday he might find use of it.

He travelled through the hectic streets of the city of Peace, filled with crowds of people dressed in mediaeval get up, buying items from several stores and foreign peddlers. He waded his way to the city gates and eventually arrived at the guard post.   After paying his respects to the sentries, he ran north-east of the city to the direction of Mt. Peace.

It took him two hours to reach the foot of the mountain and another two to reach the top, where a huge monastic temple stood in all its glory.  Its arced gateways were chiseled with angelic forms that spread their wings as if in protection of the passage ways. The wall that surrounded it had been cut from the finest stones and embellished with carvings obviously cut by the deft hands of a master sculptor. 

River continued on until he got to the gates and proceeded to enter the temple.  Inside was even more glamorous.  The buildings eloquently spoke of the past as much as it spoke of the present; the molds that grew on walls seemed to have been decoration rather than dirt.  The roofs where old and decrepit, yet its wavy curves somehow reminded one of a past one never knew of.  This temple had evidently been in this world for a very long, long time.

There were monks, wearing brown robes with hoods that dangle at the back, dusting the courtyard or doing maintenance at the rooftops.  Some fixed dilapidated walls while others were immersed in contemplative discourses.  River greeted the monks, who responded to him gleefully with the gentle characteristic of those who trained in sage craft.  He passed by the courtyard and went inside the hall, running to his destination: Abbot Gregory’s garden.

The garden was situated in an open space surrounded by monastery buildings; to access it, one must first pass through a huge arced gateway that spoke of tales of heroism—carved in a tongue that had long died.  River passed through the arc and entered the garden.  Inside the garden was an old man, standing up with two hands clasped behind him.  A slight breeze slipped through the gaps of the surrounding buildings, filling the garden with a mystical chill.  The monk’s robe danced gracefully to the tune of nature; and his eyes were closed in deep contemplation.

“Abbot,” greeted River to his master, “I’ve come to see you as promised.”

The abbot breathed in and out as nature’s energy soaked through every part of his body. He turned towards the boy in a quick but fluid motion.  His face was old, yet oddly beautiful: the kind of beauty wise men exuded.  His long beard swayed gently with his movements.

“My boy!” exclaimed Abbot Gregory, walking towards River. “I’m so glad you came. Are you really sure about your decision to end your training?”

“Yes Master,” confidently replied River, glancing down in morose reminiscence. “I don’t think I’m fit for this kind of life. In the first place I’ve still haven’t made peace with my past.”

“True,” said the abbot, sitting down on a bench right below a willow tree.  He tapped the wooden surface beside him, gesturing River to sit down. “Let us talk.”

River accepted the invitation and sat down with a thud.

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“You are one of my best disciples. You have never failed to surprise me; the greatest surprise you’ve ever brought me were those abilities you showed me the other day.”

River scratched his head, awkwardly responding to the abbot’s sudden praise. “What are you talking about Abbot, it’s something any of you can do too if you guys put your mind to it.”

“And yet we don’t want to,” responded the abbot. “Our purpose my boy, is not to protect lives with power.  Our purpose is as simple as the purpose of a pen or a sponge: we are here to glance into the metaphysical realities of this world given to us by the creator.  We don’t brandish swords, nor fight with them, we’re here to help people find their meaning, so to say, for them to find a life worth living. We don’t protect lives, we guide them.”

The abbot turned to the boy.  He raised his index finger and struck River on the chest.  “You were made to protect lives.  The power which you have discovered is a power unique to you, only you could have discovered it among all of my disciples.  Only you who have been rejected, insulted, trampled upon could pursue it. And only you who have known the face of dirt could truly use it responsibly.”

“I know, Abbot,” said River with a melancholic smile. “It’s not that special though, in fact I can’t even sustain it for long periods. If only I could use magic, then perhaps I’d be stronger.”

“The fact never changes: you have the strength to protect—so protect. No matter how small, the smallest contribution makeup the largest things. But remember this: although your time with us had allowed you to grow, you still have a lot to change. I wish the best for you, my boy.  I will certainly miss you.”

“Would you stop that, Abbot?” chided River. “You sound like we won’t be seeing each other again.  I can still come by and visit every now and then.”

“Who knows?” Abbot Gregory chuckled kindly. “My life is not mine to keep. I can sense my hour is nigh.”

“Again with your morbid jokes. It’s not going to work anymore.”

The monk smiled at River while closing his eyes. “Of course—” 

His soft chuckle somehow made River feel uneasy, as if something horrible was about to happen in the near future. Thence, Abbot Gregory invited River to have tea with him, which River readily accepted without an ounce of hesitation.

***

After River’s quick visit at the temple he decided to go home.  He walked the same path, but quicker since he was going downhill.  During his journey he racked his brains for what to do next. How will he revive his crippled dream of becoming a magalogist and an inventor? He could join the military and perhaps apply all the theories he knew about magic to aid military tactics then use such achievements to gain footing to get himself approved as an independent theorist and/or inventor, but that would take too long. It might not even happen, considering the fact that people had way too low of an opinion on invalids.

How about attend school? But schools had lessons involving practical, non-magic use of orb energy like starting an auto-carriage using an activation key powered by one’s orb energy. He surely couldn’t pass those tests, after all his inner orb was so small that it couldn’t even light a luminescent crystal. After thinking about it too deeply, he decided to let it sit down for tomorrow.

Four hours later, at three in the afternoon, River arrived at his aunt’s manor and marched his way towards his room.  Suddenly, a pale and slender woman, with a face slowly wrinkling of old age, wearing a red dress popular around their area, walked towards him with her bobbed hair bouncing up and down.  Her fierce expression, strict demeanor, and piercing gaze was the very description of—

“Aunt Melinda!” screamed River, sweating. “Why are you here?”   

“It’s my house. Why else should I be here?”

“What about business?”

“This is business,” curtly replied the aunt.  She took River by the arm and pulled him to the waiting chamber. 

“Where were you anyway? We waited for you for a long time.”

‘We?’

River respectfully pulled himself from Melinda’s grip. “I was studying, and training…”

“Oh? Give up boy, no matter what you do, you will never be able to use magic,” bluntly scolded Melinda, reaching for the door handle. “Anyhow someone’s here to meet you.”

‘Someone?’ thought River, ‘Mara perhaps or maybe mother?’

Mara was River’s little sister whom he adored with all his brotherly love.  She herself was very affectionate towards River, and hence was one of the only two people who would dare visit him, the other one being his loving mother.

The door creaked open and revealed the inside of the reception room.  The two sofas and foam chairs as well as tables and all sorts of decorations were neatly arranged to create the ambiance of simplicity and elegance, marrying each other in a wonderful balance.

Sitting on one of the sofa was a tall man with a bulky body built.  He wore a grayish shirt with sleeves that shortly cut off near the shoulders, thus revealing the bulging muscles of his arm.  A band of black cloth wrapped around his forearms.  His face was stern and audacious, while his black hair was standing up in a flat-top haircut.  This was—

“Father!” abruptly exclaimed River. “W-what’s going on?  What made you come here?”

Silence—

Antonio Pace didn’t move, nor did he talk.  He just sat there, arms crossed and eyes closed.  Melinda urged River to go inside; hesitantly, River entered the room and sat on the sofa opposite his father. Afterwards Melinda left the two of them alone.

Antonio still did not speak, yet the air about him screamed of silent authority; perhaps it was because he was an enhancer? No one was sure. River looked away, trying to stave off his awkwardness by looking at some cracks over there, or some small details over here and so on and so forth.

Antonio opened his eyes.

“You’ve grown,” remarked Antonio, finally breaking the ice.

“Y-yeah,” nervously let out River as he scratched his cheek and glanced away.

“I came here for one reason only,” said Antonio in a stern voice. “I want you to enter Winnow Academy.”

Hearing that out of a sudden, River instantly turned his head towards his father, staring at him in shock.

Winnow Academy? Wasn’t it one of the four great academies of the kingdom? What did Antonio mean, him? River? Enter the academy built specially for talented mages? In the first place he wasn’t magic—

“It’s Mara’s wish.  She kept bugging me about it, saying she won’t enter the academy if you won’t join her.”

“I-I”

“Don’t worry, as long as you top the written exams, you will be allowed entry; and according to Melinda, your knowledge about magic surpasses even hers—a Class B mage; hence I think it’s possible for you. However, you will only be entering as a student of the theory classes, practical classes won’t be allowed for you.”

“B-but, Father, I—”

“Take it or leave it,” briefly pronounced Antonio, standing up and walking towards the door. “I’m off.”

Hence, Antonio strode off, leaving to handle some other important business. River was left there sitting down in a daze.  Winnow Academy?  He wasn’t qualified for that; in the first place it was the academy where ‘she’ was attending.  He heard ‘she’ had already been engaged to the scion of the Reborn family. Seeing the two of them together might just—

Break him to pieces.

Was this kindness or cruelty? Who knows? As in anything, River will never find out unless he tried.