Vincent sighed. That was a few things accomplished, but there was still an important task to do. He hoped he didn't have to do it - the earlier test against the arcadia took a lot out of him mentally. He just wanted to rest.

The ship was moored to an anchor, inserted on the firmer, saturated side of the sandy beaches. Reese fortified it with a few more magical buffs, with a few inscriptions drawn by Vincent, too.

“What will we do about the ship?” Vincent threw the question specifically at Kirke, eager to witness the kind of magic that would ensure the safety of their ship. It was definitely secured in terms of location, but the ship itself was a different matter. Any kind of calamity, circumstance or greed could spell the end for it, and their way home.

But he knew he might not be granted such a sight. As he took a pensive look towards Kirke, he saw his master’s shoulders slump, and his head shake slightly. “Figure something out,” he said before turning away.

That would have normally been a bad first impression for a new master, but Vincent knew Kirke from way back. Vincent was only a year younger, so he had bare witnessed to much of Kirke’s misadventures. It was obvious to Vincent the reason why Kirke refused to use his magic.

Kirke wasn’t Vincent’s teacher, or anything like that - but there were times when Kirke would give a word of encouragement or some spark of inspiration, and that was one of the mantras which Kirke stuck to the most. Intriguing, in that he doesn’t discourage magic, rather…

His master believed he was not fit for magic. Cursed, even.

Vincent was pulled out of his thoughts by a light shaking on his arms. Held by Reese, she gave a questioning look, “what will we do about the ship?” she asked, almost mockingly. Vincent sighed; she knew he hated doing much.

“Let’s just work something out,” Vincent relented. To be honest, he was also looking for some time to relax. If his master had decided to just deal with it then, it would have been a blast. Still, he wasn’t feeling too bad about it, he’d get to rest after they’ve settled the ship.

Now that he’s thought about it, that arcadia was something. He’s never seen so many successive lightning strikes in his life, and the thought that he needed to be up close to channel that inscription sank his heart at first. It was a task two notches more difficult than anything he’s encountered. If his spell object ran amok and failed to embody Reese’s conduit spell, it would’ve been disaster for him.

Facing an arcadia like that wasn’t easy, in fact, Vincent was still out of his wits and unsure if he actually survived - his legs would have been shaking, had he not been practicing his whole life to keep it still. It was the closest he’s ever gotten to dying; he knew Kirke wouldn’t have done anything to save them.

“I don’t save those who can save themselves,” Kirke had once said. Vincent elected to think in terms of benefits: at least, he’d forget about the whole ordeal when he’s occupied with work. He was a hard lord, but he would never let them face calamity alone if they could not handle it.

“Alright then,” Reese readily agreed. She wasn’t against work like Vincent, and she actually loved to do a lot of things. Unfortunately, logistics wasn’t a strong suit - she wasn’t into crafting or numbers crunching of the sort… what she was good at though, she was eloquent when it came to.

They both worked on the ship for hours, with Vincent installing defense inscriptions that alerted them of movement along with a few other deadlier options, and modifying a few defense enhancements on the ship. Meanwhile, Reese created wards, which allowed particular conditional spells to take effect. Wards could last from a few minutes to indefinitely depending on the caster.

Needless to say, Reese’s wards were indefinite.

They then worked on the teleportation ward, with Vincent creating a platform inscription and Reese supplying the spell and ward. The inscription was efficiently crafted, and allowed unperturbed transfer of mana at a great pace. This allowed the ward to last longer, and to have additional effects.

By the time they finished work, the sun was setting.

Kirke appeared out of nowhere; he was holding freshly cooked skewered meat. The aroma wafted and delivered a smell that reminded Vincent of civilization. He bugged out his eyes in realization and looked towards Reese, who wore a similar but more subdued expression.

“Where have you been, Master?”

“There’s a town a few kilometers from here,” Kirke said without reserve before taking a bite.

Vincent gulped, not only because he was hungry, but because that meant that Kirke’s been in contact with other people. If there was one thing Vincent prepared for, it was the mesh of cultures they no doubt would encounter.

“Reese?” Vincent looked back, only to see a giggling Reese. “He’s bound to have done some trouble, hasn’t he?” She grinned. “I feel like visiting this town now,” Reese’s energy was met by Kirke with enthusiasm. “Great, we’ll probably be there by night time,” said Kirke with more gusto than what was acceptable for such a sentence.

Vincent lamented; so much for rest.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Reese marched with a muted spring in her step as their party approached the towering gates of Armunnd. It was the first civilization, the realization of their dream. Behind them were a vast plain stretching far as the eye can see. Beyond that were the gigantic trees with trunks that swallowed objects, much like quicksand. An arcadia called the Prison Forest, it was the first line of defense of Armunnd against invaders coming from the sea. Or so, that was how Reese saw it.

If one could circumvent the Nirvana, they would be in the perfect position to mount a two-pronged attack; however, the existence of the Prison Forest denies that advantage. Still - their party, both Vincent and their master, ran through the forest with ease. Who’s to say that there weren’t others who couldn’t do the same?

It didn’t have to be an army that attacks unexpectedly, and Reese was always on the lookout for such security breaches. Though, on the lookout might not be the right term to use, as she just simply understands the things she needs to understand.

The keys to victory.

Of course, that was a cautiousness instinctive of Reese; it wasn’t as if it mattered to her what happened to this city (though that thought in itself troubles her.) What’s important was that she witness any… amusing events involving her master, and be there for him when she’s needed. Well, she knew no one else besides Vincent and him.

She ought to make friends, she thought to herself. She didn’t think that Kirke dreamt of this journey without wanting to meet new people; his first destination was a town, so that was more than enough of a clue. Reese hoped to follow Kirke’s example.

She just hoped that this place was more civil than her opinionated country.

The charcoal-like brick walls were draped in the sweet scent of magic, and it was thick and wide, fit for three people to rest comfortably on top of its walls. At first, she wondered how the stout walls allowed the gentle noise from inside the town to sit comfortably in the background, but she saw an enchantment for sound. This town, perhaps, was a trading city, if they were this inviting.

But then, she also perceived a reflective barrier briefly shine a thumb’s width away from the actual walls. This barrier is high-grade, and is three layers deep. Reese frowned. Would a society of peace have a need for such defenses? Heck, if it wasn’t weak in comparison with her country’s enchantments, she’d be certain this ‘small town’ was run by warmongers.

According to Kirke, the town was more akin to a small city, and was bustling by the time Kirke had arrived earlier. This explained his undiminished determination to make the trip even if they made it later than sundown. Whatever this city was, it is an important destination; Reese made a point to investigate further.

Even outside, there were numerous caravans of augmented steel make rolling to a line of about fifteen carriages. Each could carry around 20 large boxes of goods, and these goods were kept a close eye on by their traders and the guards at watch. There was another line of a dozen carriages ferrying passengers, most of whom weren’t disembarking, in favor of staying plopped on their comfortable seats.

“What do you think those are?” asked Reese, pointing at the carriages ferrying people as she patiently waited for the pedestrian line to move. “Must be the passenger carriages. They have a fixed route and fare - they’re a very efficient way to travel as they can become faster than horses. You can drop off at any location and ride the next route towards where you want to,” Vincent explained then he thought for a bit. “Simply by riding these passenger carriages, you could theoretically visit most countries,” he concluded.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

That gave Reese thought. That was in fact, efficient - but there was a reliance that Reese couldn’t quite put in there. Maybe Vincent would know, but she’d ask later. She wanted to ask Kirke if he noticed something strange. As the line drew more forward and she turned to follow, Reese felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Reese,” a pensive Vincent whispered to her. “Aren’t they a bit reliant on tools?”

Suddenly, everything clicked for her. Vincent was right. On the sheaths of what she assumed were warriors or mages were swords, shields and wands; that was why Reese found it weird when she saw a carriage full of people. Goods are just simply too bulky and unnecessary to transfer with any form of magic, so that she understood. She might even say that her ‘genius’ country had a fatal oversight in that department.

Truly a land drowned by pride. It’s unfortunate how the Ambrosian Royalty values freedom; but she also understood that to be truly free, there must only be overseers; those with power but simple pleasures. She shook her head. She couldn’t expect a solution from them - they weren’t meant to be the solution.

But this city of tools… Is this not a city of magic?

Then, the tension in the air was suddenly made aware to Reese. Most adventurers and gaurds were readying their hands to draw their weapons, their eyes wandering from Kirke’s party to the cityfolk allies. Reese looked at her clothes, and then her master, and she almost face-palmed. Of course, they would notice - who would not?

You could see in the way Kirke’s deep-set, black eyes stare at anyone, unfitting his appearance. They were observant, attentive. They actually looked into your eyes, not around them - and for sure, anyone who Kirke notices would look at him he’d lock eyes with.

His disheveled brown hair was wavy, and his face smooth; a bit of a baby face, but no one Reese has ever met had mistaken him for a brat. He had a prominent jawline and he was built athletically, his well-developed body was hidden by the same armor Reese wore, although more loosely-fit and a murky white, while he wore a fur coat. The lands of Ambrosia are said to be frostbitten.

He was also tall enough to be seen by most people, standing at two heads taller than Reese, who was of average height.

She didn’t like how they stared but she didn’t know what to do. Did her master do something earlier?The situation must be a simple confusion, as though she was getting ready for Kirke’s antics, she felt that he was good-natured at heart. He wouldn’t do something to elicit this kind of defensive, would he? He’s simply more resolute about a few things that’ll make people belch.

Then she looked at Vincent, his pale face ruddy and steaming. His scowl was threatening, and he grit his teeth. “Find something interesting?” His hands were shaking; likely from the fear that his master would scold him and from the pain he’s about to give.

Vincent had a temper regarding a few things; stuff that he has a really shallow bottomline. Disrespect for Kirke was one of them.

She had to stop him.

Before she could continue, Kirke wrapped his arms around Vincent’s shoulder. “Someone as red as you would catch the eye of anyone. That’s why they’re called apples of the eye - they’re red,” Kirke said convincingly, as he turned to the crowd.

“I know you find these two weird, but please don’t mind them. They’re good people,” Kirke smiled. Reese saw the people somewhat calm down, sighing and relaxing their bodies.

“Move along, you two,” Kirke said as he egged them forward with a grin. The line was now depleting at a quicker rate. “Whatever differences and similarities we have, I don’t really think it matters,” Kirke said, his eyes looking forward as they moved closer to the inspection booth. “But that’s why we can have fun with it, feel sad about it - you know, things that are taken for granted at the isles,” they reached the booth and he made eye contact with the guard.

“Greetings. Won’t you agree that magic is to wonder?” Kirke asked the guard calmly, his tone both gentle and curious while his eyes seemed to peek inside the guards very soul.

“Uhh…” Confused with how to answer, the guard simply stammered. It was an unsettling experience that Reese has been through numerous times, and he should be glad he was only stammered. Reese had seen hell in those eyes - and sometimes she could feel hers burn with the same fury as well. Still, she wanted to help out.

Reese wasn’t good with individuals - so she didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like Kirke was bad with people, neither - he's just startingly open about his thoughts at times. Unsurprisingly, there were moments when they do happen at unexpected situations, like these.

Vincent took a step forward. Reese admired that part of Vincent. He’d always been a lazy scaredy-cat who happens to do a lot of things and faces a lot of fears. “Magic is indeed a wonder, and he means he feels the same way as us,” Vincent rephrased, back to his usual anxious calm, his hand fidgeting. The guard simply nodded, a flash of familiarity lining his face as he did.

“We’d like to take passage today,” Vincent gestured towards Reese, who raised a shy hand, and Kirke who smiled back. “I’m back,” Kirke exclaimed. Seemed like their master didn’t need help with entry after all.

The guard shook his head, waking himself out of his stupor. “Oh yes, venerated healer. Thank you for returning, are they your friends?” the guard inquired.

“They are, can you allow them passage?” Kirke asked politely. “Definitely,” the guard said with vigor. “I apologize for earlier. I… was a bit lost for words,” the guard said. “It isn’t something to worry about. We’ll get going then,” Kirke said as he once again pushed the both of them forward.

For a while there, Reese was both anxious and excited; she thought her master had done something whimsy again, but apparently not. That was the exciting part about her master. Will he be salvation?

Or the other way around?

As they entered the city, Reese wasn’t able to give herself a moment to admire the view before she broke out into raucous laughter, earning the ire, curiosity, and shock of the passerbys. “For a second there, master, I thought we’d already be in trouble,” she said, referring to his past adventures in the Isles.

It seems that the answer for today was his magic had been a blessing. It was wondrous, and Reese thought to celebrate by teasing him a bit. She couldn't be that playful towards anyone else, apart from her brother and Kirke.

Kirke laughed in return. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t come here to cause a ruckus,” Kirke rebutted in false offense. “Did you think I’d be causing trouble unknowingly?” he asked.

“It’s not that you’d cause trouble unknowingly,” Vincent asked, a relief in his voice. “It’s just that it’s not as if trouble bothers you, you’d spur something knowingly if left alone,” he reminded. “Well, I’m in no rush,” Kirke said.

“Aww, and I was looking forward to something fun,” Reese said as she marveled at the view. Buildings as tall as five floors were sprawled evenly and neatly, with each building growing taller as her sights moved closer to the center of the town. On the middle was a tower that showed twelve numbers and two dials that rotated to the right. One was larger and slower than the other; meanwhile, the thinner and longer one ticked with rhythmic repetition.

“Quite a simple magic but it’s impressive, don’t you think?” Kirke asked Reese. Vincent squinted his eyes but sighed, literally unable to comprehend magic with sight alone. There were few who had the ability to appraise, and it was a trait Reese shared with their master, to a lesser extent.

The clock tower was big and an engineering work of wonder, and the foundations of carpentry and architecture alone astounded Reese; obviously, such grand works of building construction were beyond the capacity of nomads constantly on the move, but they understood the concept, having an access to it.

What amazed Reese was the simplicity of the inscription, to the point where even she understood how it was made (inscriptions would be foreign language to her had it not been with the help of Vincent). The mana acted as a sort of timer that triggers the forward movement of the longer dial. The shorter dial was then gradually moved by the longer dial. Judging by this alone, she recalled what it was called from her memories the books that she read from when she was young. It was a clock.

As Ambrosians, they had a lot of books, concepts and information that originated from Elysia. They were information bought by the mercantile families of Ambrosia, and eventually spread across the country. Thus, they were well-informed about the people of Elysia - but up close, seeing how innovative they could be…

It’s true then, that it didn’t matter that they relied on tools such as measuring time. It was fascinating that the simple thought of them creating their own path was magic to her. That was what mattered.

Magic is indeed a wonder. She wished to explore more, reaffirming to herself that her decision in accompanying his childhood friend was food for the soul.