After Elric had finished reading 'Magic theory for beginners' he had spent quite a bit more time in the library, reading books on history, noble houses, and the continent.

The country that Elric was living in was called Feyndall, it was located in the north of the continent, neighbouring only Taelindor to the east. It was separated from Thelgarv, that lied to the south of Feyndall, by an ocean.

To the east of Taelindor were the Frostborne Islands, to the south Londur.

Feyndall was a country mainly inhabited by humans. It was mostly surrounded by mountains at its coastline, serving as a natural protection against invaders.

Though greatly restricting their ability to travel across the sea, with only a few gaps in the protective mountain range.

Many powerful and renown houses resided in Feyndall, most notably house Wakefield, house Tudor, house Tyndall and house Selvor.

Taelindor was a country mostly covered by an enchanted forrest. It was the home of the Elves, and only they were able to navigate it. Taelindor was shrouded in a weird fog that disoriented anyone but them.

There were only a few routes that were safe to traverse, created by the Elves for merchants and those who wanted to pass to Feyndall.

To the south of Taelindor, humans and Dwarves lived together in the country of Londur. The Dwarves mostly lived in the mountains in the south-east of Londur, while the humans inhabited cities close to them.

They had lived in symbiosis for centuries. The humans provided food, cloth, and other goods while the dwarves provided them with rare gems and gold. They then could be used for trade with other countries.

They were fairly wealthy.

Thelgarv was a purely Dwarven country, but instead of just living in the mountains like the Dwarves of Londur, they inhabited land. In the west of Thelgarv was enormous wall, separating all these countries from the rest of the continent.

And not without reason. Beyond those walls lied unimaginalable danger, creatures and mana beasts unseen in the known part of the continent. Some countries attempted to go there by boat, but most of the ships that made the journey into the seas beyond the wall didn't return.

And those who did, either didn't travel far, or they returned without the crew that manned it.

Lastly the Frostborne Islands. The Frostborne Islands were mostly covered by ice and snow. The humans that lived there only survived by plundering the other countries. Their victims were mostly Taelindor and Londur.

Thelgarv was too far away, and Feyndall to well protected by mountains.

Taelindor and Londur mostly turn a blind eye to the plunderers in the east, because they only attacked small villages and an invasion of the Frostborne Islands was not worth it.

Besides them nobody really was able to endure the extreme coldness, making a military operation very difficult , and they weren't wealthy enough for it to be profitable.

Elric read only the most basic information on the countries, more enticed with the thought of working in his mana core.

Once he finished reading he returned into his room, and immediately started trying to rotate mana through his body. Wherever his limitation as a Conjurer allowed him to at least.

While doing so his control over his own mana gradually rose. He went at it the entire day, and after waking up the next morning he continued until someone knocked at his door.

"It's open," he called out, as he got back up on his feet. Taking a towel out of his wardrobe he wiped his sweaty face.

The door slid open and the two maid's from yesterday entered. Both Lara and Bernadette bowed, greeting the young lord.

"Lord Elric, it is time for breakfast your family is waiting," the older maid said.

"I won't be coming, tell them that I have plans for today," Elric answered as he took of his sweaty shirt.

Lara, who had stayed silent took a step closer and addressed Elric. Her gaze wandering off to the side, at the sight of her employers bare upper body. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid that won't be possible. As you know a ball will be hosted tonight, attendance is mandatory."

Elric rose a surprised brow. This was the first time one of them had so directly talked back to him.

Bernadette also gave the young maid in training a sharp look, obviously not content with how Lara had spoken to lord Elric. Bernadette grabbed Lara by the arm and pulled her back, then she took a step forward.

"What she meant is, that lord Wakefield wishes for you to be present and welcome the guests."

Elric put on a dark blue shirt, just like the one he wore before it also had the Wakefield crest on it, as he listened.

"And I will be," Elric said, turning his gaze to Bernadette. "Tell lord Wakefield that he can expect me this evening."

His tone was friendly, but firm. Bernadette knew that his words were absolute and that there was no point in further arguing.

With his few interactions the prior day, Elric had gotten confident that no one would ever refuse his words. At least none of the servants he had met.

"If I may ask, where are you going, lord?"

"You may not," he answered curtly. "Because I do not know yet myself."

With another few words, he sent his attendants away, again. Preparing for his trip to the city, he searched his room for money.

Everyone had at least some spare money lying around in his room. Even the mute son of a noble house, or at least that's what Elric hoped.

After running through every single drawer, and furniture and checking every single pocket of his jackets and trousers he found money at last. His jaw dropped at the amount.

One Gold, three silver and twenty copper coins.

While this may not seem much, one gold coin in a remote village could take care of a households expenses for almost a year. If spent wisely, that is.

100 copper equated to 1 silver and 100 silver equated to 1 gold.

Putting the gold coin away he only took with him the copper and silver. For a stroll through town a gold coin would be over board.

What was he going to buy with it, a house?

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He put his sheathed sword back on his waist and put on a cloak to hide it.

After making sure that he hadn't forgotten anything he left the castle and made his way into the busy city.

***

With a wolf-like creature that had a horn sprouting out of its head, a boy trotted through the streets of Tindel. The weight of the creature on his back was slowing him down.

The boy had messy dark blond hair, his eyes were of a yellowish-brown color. He wore brown trousers and a white tunic. His clothes were tattered and covered in dirt.

It seemed as though he hadn't cleaned himself in weeks.

Sweat dripping from his forehead, he continued his walk towards his destination. The gazes of the townspeople followed him wherever he went, sneering about his appearance.

Mother's told their children to take a close look at the passing boy, to scare them off from committing crimes. Because they would share the boy's fate, they'd be shunned and thrown out from their family.

Insultingly enough they didn't even bother to lower their voices so the boy wouldn't hear.

But the boy didn't take this to heart, those people simply didn't know better.

One man, however, pushed his luck.

"Well, well, well if this isn't Derron Tu- ah no, I forgot you're just a bastard. You have no family name!" the man said in a mocking tone, slowly approaching the blond haired boy.

"Piss off," Derron responded, clearly annoyed.

"Oh come on, don't be like this," the man said with a smirk and the pointed to the creature Derron carried on his back. "You know, you should share with us, we're something like brothers you know."

A few other men, stepped out of the crowd that had formed around them, and now surrounded Derron.

Derron furrowed his brows, as he let out a belittling scoff. "Fuck off."

The man's smirk washed away in an instant, an angry expression making its way onto his face. The three men surrounding him each took out a knife.

The crowd got thinner, as the situation got more heated. Many wanting to get away before it escalates.

"We're not asking no more, I gave you the chance to share. But now you'll quietly give the Hornwolf to us, or you'll get hurt."

Derron let go of the Hornwolf, letting it fall to the ground. The thugs had a satisfied expression. The one who had talked to Derron, the leader he presumed, ordered one of the thugs to get the Hornwolf.

As he reached out his hand to get the Hornwolf from Derron, a pillar of stone shot out of the ground. It was so fast that it fractured the thug's wrist bone.

Then Derron quickly followed up his attack with a punch aimed straight at the thug's face, sending him flying.

"You want it?" Derron asked, his gaze piercing the thug leader. "Come and get it then."

Derron was unimpressed by the knives they were holding and their threats. A Hornwolf wasn't known to be a particulary strong mana beast, and was commonly hunted in the woods around the city.

If these for thugs didn't even dare to hunt down one, they weren't any threat to him.

They probably weren't even mages.

The leader clenched his jaw and his hand started to tremble. But he made no move to leave. There were still a few onlookers, if they ran away not from a boy they'd be made a laughingstock.

Once people lost respect for you on the streets, it was the same as dying. Other robbers and gangs would go after them, or worse, kill them to thin out competition.

Not accepting his death sentence, he took out a knife he was hiding in his tunic and charged at Derron, his two subordinates followed his lead.

Derron, without panicking, covered the Hornwolf in a protective layer of stone. Then conjured a pillar right under his feet, lifting him up.

The leader was able to back off in time to avoid hitting the pillar, but his other two subordinates weren't so lucky. Face first they ran into the earth pillar.

Derron jumped down from the pillar, landing on the face of one of the thug's. The other quickly collected himself and went for a strike.

Derron ducked under his punch, and then with a kick swept him off his feet. Engulfing his hand with stone he punched him in his face, breaking his nose in the process.

After he was done, he dissolved the earth pillar as maintaining it cost a lot of mana. Because of his fight with the Hornwolf earlier, mana was a sparse recourse he had to carefully use.

Before he had time to adjust his gaze the leader of the thugs imbued his legs with mana and dashed forward. Feeling him through the vibration of the earth, Derron was just barely able to dodge left.

Derron went for an upward kick to hit the thugs arm. But he leaned backwards just in time.

Which was impressive since he was fairly tall, more than a head taller than Derron, and rather burly.

Using his chance the thug used his long reach to land a punch onto Derron's upper body.

Derron let out a pained moan and distanced himself from his enemy.

He had assumed that none of the thugs were mages and got overwhelmed for a second when he started using magic.

But he quickly composed himself. If he wanted to win this battle he had to rely on his remaining mana, and utilize it in the right moment.

His enemy was an Augmenter, without a mana enforced attack he wouldn't be able to finish him off.

He tensed, but got in a stance hoping to hide it.

Meanwhile, the thug grew more confident. He knew that Derron was running out of mana.

Boldly the black haired thug dashed forward and threw a barrage of punches at Derron.

Derron could barely dodge and had to take a few hits to protect his head and other vital areas of his body.

Where the hell are the guards?! He thought, as he took another hit right into his guts.

By the impact of the thugs punch he was send flying backwards. The thug however didn't give him the chance to get back onto is feet. He jumped upwards in an attempt to stomp on his opponent from above.

Derron had to roll away to avoid the thugs leg. Where the thug landed cracks formed into the ground. A few spectators fell down from the impact.

Immediately, already having expected such an outcome, he jumped onto Derron and pinned him down.

The thug let out an exasperated laughed, as he sat on Derron's stomach.

"Well then, we'll take the Hornwolf. You won't mind, will you?" He punched Derron on his face repeatedly, to assert his strength. "You see the difference between us now bastard? I should kill you, but you know I'm kind. I'll let you live if you become my subordinate!"

Derron looked at him with an unreadable expression. Then spit on his opponents face. "Fuck off."

A layer of stone formed on his fingers and knuckles, as a small pillar shot his arm forward at an incredible speed, connecting Derron's fist with the thugs jaw.

The sound of a breaking bone sounded, as the thug was sent flying backwards.

In pain, Derron stood up, picked up the Hornwolf and continued his journey. The viewers hastily made way for him, afraid that he'd share the same fate as the robbers.

Half an hour later he arrived at his destination, the tavern to the dancing unicorn.

He opened the door and entered, with his trophy in tow. A familiar bell rang when he entered. The people turned to him to see who just entered, and then turned back to their food and drink.

Derron walked towards the front bar and threw the corpse of the Hornwolf on it, startling a customer to his right.

"Boy," and old white haired man said. "Don't just throw corpses onto my table!"

"A Hornwolf just as ordered, my reward?" Derron said, stretching out his hand over the corpse.

The old bartender grumbled under his breath, pulling the Hornwolf behind the bar.

"Have some respect for your employer brat."

The old bartender filled a mug with a reddish liquid and put some bread and cheese on a plate. He slid the mug and plate to Derron.

Derron looked at the mug, inspecting the liquid. "This won't be deducted from my reward, right?"

The old bartender let out chuckle. "If I was a good businessman it would be, sadly I'm not."

"Cheers to that!"

Derron quickly drank the healing potion, and his wounds started to slowly heal.

"Anyway, how'd you get hurt like that?" the old bartender asked, leaning onto the bar and refilled the mug with water. " Hard to believe that this was the Hornwolf's doing."

Derron swallowed down a piece of bread and took a sip from his mug. He took a careful look around the tavern, his eye's landed on a hooded boy who was sitting in a corner.

Unlike the other drunks he had never seen him. Seeing, though that he wasn't interested in his conversation with the bartender he turned back to the old man.

"A bunch of thugs. They're getting bolder day by day."

"Of course they are. The city guard is patrolling less with each passing week, and the Wakefields can't be bothered to hunt small gangs." The old man scoffed. "Word is going around that Enwler has some kind of deal with the city guard."

Derron's mood turned sour, his unbothered expression making way to pity.

"If I was still a-"

Before Derron could finish, the old man cut in.

"If you were still a noble you wouldn't give a shit either. So long as the gangs don't go against the Wakefields, they won't care."

Derron stared at the old man. But he didn't refute him, he knew he was right. When he was still a noble he had heard of bandits and gangs robbing and terrorizing the poor, yet he didn't care.

So long as one isn't affected, what reason was there to care?

"Pah! Don't look like that, I don't hold it against you. I wouldn't care either!" The door of the tavern opened and the bell announced a few figures entering. "If these fucking gangs wouldn't be in this part of town, I wouldn't care!"

The old man almost shouted and slammed his fist on the table, not having noticed three figures entering his establishment.

A knife flew through the room as soon as the bartender finished speaking, injuring his ear and hitting a barrel behind him.

The man who threw the knife was a tall black haired man, his eyes were brown and emitted coldness. He wore brown trousers and a west of almost the same color, just a bit darker.

Right behind him were two men wearing the same, with the addition of robes wrapped around their head's. Only their eyes were stil visible.