It had been two weeks since Janine’s passing, during which time Alistar had spent nearly every waking hour training either his swordsmanship or his spellwork. He had only visited his friends once since the funeral, to return Zech and Jaden’s practice swords to them after Mr. Albeck had kindly reverted them to their original states, and to distribute the charms that his teacher had told him to give to his friends.
The Dozen were not only shocked to hear of what had happened to Janine, but many were anxious, frightened, or both. Considering that the tragedy had taken place immediately after their discussion about the potential dangers posed by Alistar’s relatives, the unwelcome news served as a wake up call for the others, who now studied magic under Lessa and Anice whenever the two girls were free. Alistar wanted to help too, of course—especially since he worried over Anice acting as an instructor for such sensitive skillsets—but he could no longer afford to waste any time on things that didn’t further his chances of accomplishing his goals.
Since that terrible day, Alistar had honed his control over the spells within his repertoire to the point where he hardly required any thought in order to activate them. It was important to note that this was with his limiters on, as taking them off only made the processes much easier and the spells more effective.
The sky was quite clear today, the air cold and crisp with little moisture. It hadn’t snowed since last week, during which time the region had seen an uncharacteristically warm evening that had melted all of the precipitation, leaving only chilled, hard earth in its wake.
Alistar had ventured into Mayhaven’s southern district today with the intention of purchasing a sword for himself, as Tramon still refused to present him with one despite the fact that his master had already acknowledged that he was an adept swordsman, particularly a middle practitioner of the adept stratum, or a second-tier adept. This was quite frustrating, since it was tradition to receive a sword from one’s master upon achieving the first tier of said stratum, but unfortunately Tramon was away from town at the moment so it was impossible to raise the question in time for tonight’s hunt.
“Let’s see,” he muttered, silver eyes trailing over the different signs that advertised particular professions within Mayhaven’s craftsman district. “Ah, there it is.”
There were several blacksmiths within the city, one of which showed a decent amount of traffic whenever he happened to walk by while on his way to the Greyline. The shop was called ‘Mountain Steel,’ with a typical sign depicting a hammer and anvil along with the shop’s name in painted letters.
Once inside the store, Alistar took his time perusing the various weapons, armour and other equipment that were hung up on walls or otherwise arranged atop weapon stands or within open-faced crates along the back wall of the large, single-room building. At two silver lucets, the cheapest swords were of simple make, though still quite sharp despite their plainness. The more expensive weapons averaged around ten silver lucets—the equivalent of a golden half-lucet—though these were too ornate for Alistar’s taste, and he felt that he would be fine with a less decorative weapon of similar sharpness and sturdiness. Moreover, he had no need for the magic crystals that were embedded in some of the priciest pieces, as he couldn’t see himself running out of inner energy any time soon.
He eventually settled on two different blades, a smart-looking short sword of polished, gleaming steel with a simple handle of black leather and a rounded, unremarkable pommel, and a long dagger of similar style. Along with their respective scabbards and the leather straps necessary to belt them to his body, the total cost was a hefty eight silver lucets. Despite the fact that he had just spent four months’ worth of allowance and nearly an entire year’s worth of the average commoner’s earnings, Alistar didn’t feel the slightest bit of regret.
Today, he had been sure to only wear black clothes, from the leather boots that ran halfway up his shins to the thick trousers whose hems were neatly tucked into them, to his long-sleeved tunic, his overcoat, and the heavy cloak of thick, coarse wool with a low-hanging hood.
Stolen story; please report.
It was currently early in the evening, the pale winter sun creeping its way closer to the distant peaks of the surrounding mountains as the seconds crawled by. Soon it would be dark, which would make it easier for him to slip out of the county once he arrived at its outskirts. As a city on the frontier, all of Distan was surrounded by a substantial wall of well-crafted stone, a precautionary measure that his uncle had spent most of his inheritance on as soon as he became the lord of Distan instead of having a grand castle constructed as his brothers had done with theirs.
On the opposing hip from where his new blades now hung rested a leather sack that he had tied to his belt, which contained enough food to last him a few days in the event that he was met with some sort of crisis. He hadn’t packed any water, for he could gather some with ease at any time.
A short while later when he arrived at the Greyline, Alistar scoured the area with his magical awareness to make sure that nobody was around and then took off two of his limiters, pulling up a large amount of water from the chilled currents of the wide river. He had never drawn so much liquid before, so it was quite the spectacle to behold, but he was in no mood to swim across the frigid currents and had no desire to head to one of the few bridges that connected the opposing riverbanks at distant points within the county so he had decided to make the attempt.
As he did his best to rearrange the water into a small bridge of his own, he found it difficult to move such a heavy mass with the inner energies that were currently at his disposal. Without thinking, he removed another of his twelve limiters—five rings on each hand and one bracelet per wrist—and managed to arrange the water into a platform that was over twenty paces long, connecting both sides of the river at its thinnest point. Once he did this, he immediately copied the structure that he remembered from the other bridges that he’d seen, freezing wide pillars at calculated intervals beneath its breadth, each of these reaching all the way down to the riverbed even at its deepest points. Once this was completed, he cast a basic stability spell on his feet and hurried across the bridge, which fell back into the rushing waters a few moments later when it reverted into liquid form at his behest.
Hoping that nobody had spotted him, Alistar began sprinting across the countryside while maintaining his basic stability spell, for the frozen farmland was almost entirely uneven. Ten minutes later, he arrived at a desolate section of the lengthy walls that he’d noticed was bereft of sentries, the nearest ones being quite a ways away.
Looking around to make sure that nobody was spying on him from afar, he carefully constructed a ladder of ice that he then reinforced to make sure that the cylindrical steps wouldn’t give way beneath his weight, at which point he quickly ascended the wall, manipulated the ice in order to transport the ladder overhead, and then descended onto the other side with hurried movements. As soon as he dismantled the ladder with another quick spell, he left an energy imprint on the wall so that he could keep track of how far away from the county limits he was about to venture.
If only it were summer, he thought, then he’d be able to draw water from the soil at a much faster pace. As things were, he had no choice but to remove the heat from the ground in order to melt the moisture that was trapped within, relying on the same method that he used to turn ice into water.
For the first time since the traumatizing day that Alder had found him half-dead on the Winding Road, Alistar wandered into the forests of the Tall Mountains, which were cold and quiet in light of the gloaming’s encroachment. Most critters were well into their winter hibernations, with a complete absence of avian songs as most of the regional birds had long since left to winter in the southern regions of the continent.
The woodland was quiet and dark, a dreary backdrop for his dangerous desires. I hope that energy imprint is enough to hide my absence. Just as Vanessa had done with the copper coin, he had imprinted some of his energy on a silver half-lucet that he’d then slid beneath his pillow. As he’d invested enough energy to match his natural, limiter-bound aura, he hoped that the other members of the household would assume that he was still wallowing in depression and would thus leave him be, as was the current mood in the manor house.
Although he moved as quietly as possible, Alistar couldn’t avoid the constant sounds of snapping twigs and crunching detritus, however light they may have been. Because of this, he found it more practical to expand his magical awareness to a radius of a few hundred paces in all directions, making note of every life signal that popped up in his perceptions. Even so, he made sure to proceed with the utmost caution, since he had read about certain creatures that didn’t give off even the slightest bit of aura. One of them was native to this region, the dagger-mouthed mountain lion, though these were hardly ever seen so close to the county limits and thus the probability of him encountering one was slim to none.