Ranvir scowled down at his notes, idly scribbling on the margins as he re-examined his calculations. Calculations might be a bit generous, but it was the words scholars used when working on Abilities. Sure, sometimes you could calculate the confines of an Ability, down to the last digit, most of the time it was more of an art.

Over the centuries, scholars and braced had developed methods and principles for examining Abilities and compare for synergies, but they remained more art than science. And Ranvir’s weren’t coming together right.

Maybe I need to look over it with Kynthia’s Engine again, he considered to himself. Kynthia’s Engine was a mental exercise to set up a three-part pattern throughout, split between three Abilities which should help with synergy. Then again, the last four times he’d tried, it hadn’t done too much.

When he’d been working with stone mana, it had been much more helpful, but it seemed less helpful with sand. Whether it was the more flexible nature, or just a flaw in the exercise, Ranvir wasn’t sure.

Sighing, Ranvir looked up from his puzzle to look around the room, even though he knew damn well he was still all alone. He checked the huge person-tall clock standing as part of a mantelpiece instead of a fireplace. Eight shimmers, nearly a whole flare, had passed since the meeting was supposed to start, eleven shimmers since he’d arrived.

Shaking his head, he flipped through his notes to glance over the Three Principles. These sought not to add complexity but depth to an Ability. There were two growth patterns for Abilities: creating synergies, or increasing their Score. Urityon-level braced were expected to exceed their total levels times five, where Kistios only attempted times three. Ranvir was pretty close to matching the Urityon expectation with his Abilities, but his Draw was well into Urityon territory, if not beyond it.

A good Ability allowed for constant growth and development within the Ability. Ranvir’d heard that Arkrotas Abilities should reach ten times the braced’s level. But he’d heard of people running out of room to grow their Ability’s Score. He hadn’t yet experienced that, but could feel it getting close with Storm Locust, though that may just be having crossed the easy point with the Ability.

There was a knock on the door, causing Ranvir to straighten as the stringent looking fellow opened the door and gestured for someone to enter. “The Master Craftsman Spiro,” he said shortly.

The person who entered looked to be in his mid-to-late forties. His skin had an unhealthy pale cast to it that almost set Ranvir’s teeth on edge. Though they were perhaps equal in the color of their skin, Ranvir’s people were as good as white ghosts compared to the Limclean people he’d met. Where Ranvir, if he was being honest, carried his tan color with a healthier glow, this man looked pallid and sickly.

Otherwise, the newcomer, Craftsman Spiro, was well dressed, a merchant’s outfit that had clearly been made with much care for detail, down to the engraved buttons. The clothes fit his rotund frame elegantly, taking the attention away from the overgrown belly and bringing it to shoulders that still to hold a bit of the man’s youth in them.

His forearms were thick and even through the layer of cold protection, Ranvir could see the bunched muscled twitching and moving as he tapped his jaw. The tethered returned the gesture, his nail lightly digging into his freshly shaved jaw.

“So,” the merchant said, huffing slightly as he sat down in a luxurious chair opposite Ranvir, the upholstery creaking with his corpulence. “You’re the braced going with my expedition.”

“I am indeed, sir,” Ranvir said, doing his best to plaster a smile on his face. The man’s grunt didn’t indicate success.

“You were reading?” Spiro asked, gesturing to the book still in Ranvir’s hand.

Ranvir waved his hand dismissively. “A bit of studying.”

“On Abilities I take it? Most of your kind like to consider yourself philosophers.”

“Not really,” Ranvir said. “Just an idle hobby,” he stuffed the book into a pocket in his jacket, deciding now wasn’t the time to whip out a pocket-space. His bracelet caught on the rim of his pocket, the newly adjusted spear sticking into the fabric, and he had to dislodge it.

“Very well then,” muttered the man, bowing his head slightly as he dug into his own coat pocket. The man’s half moon of dark hair, not a single strand of it gray, had been washed and oiled into a tail. It wasn’t too far different from Ranvir’s own hair, except of course that he didn’t color his, nor did he lack half a head of it.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Here we go,” Spiro grunted. “The Orykto fold if I’m not mistaken. Something of a privilege to mine there, as well. Is this your first time going with an expedition?” The man placed a pair of glasses on the tip of his nose as he began digging around for a pen.

Ranvir looked at him for a long moment, as he continued searching his person. “Yes, it’s my first time. Going for my advancement to Watcher and Urityon at the same time.”

“Oh ho,” the man grinned at him. “You’re one of those flaring lights, aren’t you? Growing and growing?” he gave Ranvir a sly look over the glasses, even as his hands continued searching for a pen. “Am I going to be hearing about you in ten years’ time, some controversy about pretty ladies and too much alcohol?”

Ranvir shook his head. “I doubt it.”

The older man simply winked before turning to his search in honest. “I swear, I had it with me.”

“You’re missing a pen?” Ranvir asked.

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry. I’m usually more organized than this, but with the Orykto fold caravan, the construction of my vault, and a few other ventures with some merchant guilds, I’ve been swamped lately.”

“Here,” Ranvir said, briefly opening a pocket-space and retrieving a spare.

“Was that space mana I saw there?” Spiro asked, taking the pen with a grateful gesture. “I think I might’ve heard about you,” he started rapidly scribbling in his notebook.

With his perception and skills, Ranvir could make out the pen’s movements to the degree he hadn’t considered possible. He thought he might replicate the movements under more controlled circumstances.

The merchant continued to ask him some more questions, mostly it was logistical issues. Him running ahead of his team and handling potential issues before they could arise. Ranvir doubted he would’ve had many problems with the merchant’s caravan, however, he could see other people taking issue with them.

He knew enough of arrogant nobles to understand that someone had trouble leaving well enough alone.

“I would offer our wagons to carry your tent and camping equipment for you, but perhaps that won’t be an issue?”

Ranvir shook his head. “I’ve got that covered, thank you very much.”

“And how many’s going with you?”

“Me and my examiner.”

“And how skilled are you with your space mana?”

Ranvir paused, cocking his head. “Why?”

“I was wondering if perhaps I could persuade you to carry a few fyla back with you,” the man grinned then. “And perhaps I could convince you to come look at my vault. If you think your powers are up to the task of investigating it.”

Ranvir was about to decline. He’d reached the required Level and Tier that Kyriake had set for him, but he could really use more time with his Abilities. But he was supposed to be acting more diplomatic, and this was a diplomat’s trial.

“Sure, I’ll take a look.”

“Wonderful!”

The man shoved to his feet with a grunt, taking Ranvir on a tour throughout his mansion. And this was a mansion, even with its location in the heart of Legea. Bigger than Ione’s and more luxuriously appointed, the merchant clearly had done well for himself.

They passed by a window, revealing a man perhaps a few years older than Ranvir playing with two children around Frija’s age. The man, father presumably, looked like a younger version of Spiro, with fuller, more natural hair.

“That’s my son, Petros,” Spiro chuckled to himself. “I can still remember when he was their age, running around full of energy all the time.”

Ranvir smiled and nodded. “They look happy.”

“I should hope so,” the man grunted and continued waddling on. “They’re damned expensive to keep around.”

Ranvir chuckled and followed. They soon came to a corridor that was far more sparsely furnished, as well as much more dusty. Running his finger across the wall, a fine layer of pale dust came off.

“Construction’s still ongoing?” he asked.

“Very much so,” Spiro said. “Don’t mind the barbaric appearance. We removed much of the dressing. No point in cleaning it all the time if it’s only going to get dirty again immediately.”

Ranvir nodded along. “Makes sense,” he muttered after realizing the man couldn’t see him.

“Here we are!” Spiro spread his arms wide. “Go! Take a look! Tell me what you think.”

Ranvir glanced around his shoulder. The room was barren, the floor still torn up from the construction, revealing the iron roof of the vault generously covered in dust. Ranvir’d expected to find a smaller metal container, something you could hold in your arms, perhaps. This one ran the length and width of the floor, nine by nine meters. Judging from the trapdoor, Ranvir suspected it was tall enough to stand in as well.

He stepped past the merchant and crouched on the floor, resting a hand on the metal. Two types of mana roared through the construction so strongly it hummed to his extraordinary senses. Iron and space.

“That’s a solid hand-span of iron all the way around,” Spiro said smugly. “Reinforced with iron mana, as well as space to further cement its structure.”

Ranvir nodded idly, delving into the structure of the reinforcement. He quickly dismissed the metal mana as irrelevant to him, focusing on the reinforcing and hardening nature of the space mana.

It was a complex working, intricately woven through and onto itself multiple times. Momentarily, Ranvir wondered, not if he could create something like this—he couldn’t—but if he could break it. This was more solid than Saleema’s pocket-spaces, though perhaps she could’ve made something similar given the inclination.

Licking his lips, Ranvir stood up. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you,” The merchant had joined him on top of the vault and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You know Ranvir, I see great opportunities ahead of us.”

Ranvir smiled uncomfortably. Why did the merchant need a vault strong enough to hold off high-Urityons?