Matabar

"Hello, my son.

I received your letters. I spent the whole night with them, and, if only for a short while, it felt like you were here again, as cheerful as ever, sometimes thoughtful, and always gentle. I breathed in their scent, and along with it, I felt as if I was breathing in your very presence.

We’re doing fine, my dear. We’ve settled in quite well! The house is entirely new — in some places, you can still catch the faint scent of fresh paint in the air, especially in those spots we rarely pass by. We even had to put flowers under the stairs to freshen it up.

Erti wasn’t too pleased with how things turned out. When they took us, he even tried to fight one of the Second Chancery officers to break free… I shudder to think what would’ve happened if Kelly hadn’t intervened… But, fortunately, everything worked out.

We arrived without incident. We traveled first class, and aside from us, the only other passengers in the compartments were people in black cloaks… They must’ve been from the Chancery as well, but that’s no concern of ours, little people that we are.

Forgive me, I tend to ramble, just like you. I wasn’t sure where to send my letters, so I’ve written and rewritten them in my mind so many times that now I don’t even know how best to put my thoughts down on paper.

As for your brother’s health, he’s in good hands. The doctors visit on the seventh day. Twice a week, on the third and fifth days, Erti goes to the clinic, where a stern, quiet doctor with a big heart and an equally large mustache attends to him. This month, Erti has only woken up due to his nightmares a few times.

They’ve enrolled him in a remarkable school. A lyceum, they call it. Though, there was a bit of trouble with his uniform — it was too small for him. But I, of course, corrected it.

I don’t have as much time now to sew or mend things. At first, clients were reluctant to come to me for warm dresses, coats, and even furs. However, the cold seasons spurred them on. Though, here in Delpas, winters are much milder than in Evergale or, perhaps, the Metropolis.

My pension comes in regularly: 17 exes and 33 kso… Don’t be surprised that my pension is so high, as if I were the widow of a senior officer, not a simple ranger. It must be a clerical error, but as you sometimes say, son, that’s tomorrow’s worry.

As for Kena — she’s growing so fast. She’s always trying to dig into the burrows of the moles that have taken a liking to our garden, which I tend to every now and then. Remember how your grandfather always dreamed of a big garden, but your father was against it? I thought that, since we’ve started a new life here, it would be good to create a small tribute to the old man, so… we have a garden now. When I’m too busy, a gardener helps me with it. He’s a very nice young man. It’s surprising how quickly we found him.

Imagine that, we can afford a gardener! Not that my little atelier is bringing in much, but Kelly’s salary is very generous. I haven’t asked how much he gets paid, but we have meat on the table every day now.

Son, I know you’ll refuse, but perhaps I could send you a little money next month? Life in the Metropolis must be costly, and with your studies and…

Oh, forgive me, by the Eternal Angels… there I go again. Please, ignore the blotch here. I’m not crying because I’m sad, though each day I look eastward, hoping that soon, a train will arrive, and you’ll step off, and everything will be as it once was.

With boundless love and eternal devotion to you, my precious boy.

Awaiting our reunion,

Your mother.

P.S. Even if it costs me a fortune, I’ll make sure there’s a blackberry pie waiting for you on New Year’s!"

Ardi wiped his damp eyes discreetly and read the letter again. He paid no mind to the smudges left by his mother’s tears, only trying to soak in every word, every letter, every comma, and the faint impression of her hand.

Last week, he’d made his way to the main post office — a noisy, bustling place if ever there was one. After standing in line for what had felt like ages, he’d finally received his mother’s letter. And for three days now, he had opened it again and again, reading it over and over, as if the act alone could bring him closer to his family.

If he were being honest, he hadn’t wanted to notice the small hints hidden in her words, but after everything that had happened, he couldn’t ignore them. By the second reading, he’d caught on to the line about the young gardener that the Brian family had hired so quickly.

Interesting. Were they training people in the Second Chancery to look after plants now?

And that little phrase, so easily overlooked, where his mother had reassured him about her pension. It wasn’t just the amount; it was what she’d said right after.

"She knows," Ardi murmured to himself, taking a sip of hot chocolate.

His mother, Shaie, knew about Hector’s past. She knew all too well about his days in the military. And if she knew such things, perhaps she knew about his great-grandfather, too…

But Ardan pushed those thoughts away — quite literally, in fact, with the aid of the rags he used for scrubbing floors. When he’d first moved into the balcony apartment in building number 23 on Markov Canal a month ago, it had taken him a good deal of scrubbing to rid the place of the oily grime that had accumulated over the floors and walls from years of dampness and dust.

The dim lighting had hidden it when he’d first moved in, but by the next day, he’d returned from classes and armed himself with a bucket, some rags, and soap bought at the supply store down the street.

And that wasn’t the end of his "soapy" chores. His clothes needed washing, too, but there were no washboards or washing platforms here. Instead, the locals of the Central District used laundry services that charged per item: a steep seven kso for three shirts and two pairs of pants. In comparison, a bar of household soap that weighed one hundred and twenty grams cost only two kso.

Thanks to simple math and a bit of elbow grease, Ardi was taking his soap down to the canal every other day to do his washing. Living right by the water had its perks, though passersby sometimes gave him puzzled looks or, on occasion, called the guards on him.

That was how he’d met two of the local lawmen. To his relief, he hadn’t received a fine for washing his clothes in the canal, as no law against it had yet been created. So, in a month, he had managed to save nearly fifty kso — and he hadn’t even used up all his soap yet.

Speaking of the month… There was the report card he had just received for his test papers.

Carefully folding his mother’s letter and tucking it into his breast pocket, Ardi opened the envelope with his grades and immediately wished that he drank. As Mart would say, "Sometimes, you need something a bit stronger."

"Ardan Egobar’s Academic Report Card.

Faculty of General Studies.

First year, second group.

Theory of Star Engineering:

3 points

Theory of Star Biology and Alchemy:

6 points

General Physical and Military Training:

4 points

History of Magic:

2 points

Applied Star Engineering:

6 points

Laws and Rights Governing the Lives of Mages:

1 point

Theory of Defensive Magic:

3 points

Applied Defensive Magic:

5 points

Theory of Star Healing:

1 point

Applied Healing:

5 points

General Theory of Star Magic:

3 points

Applied Use of Biological and Alchemical Knowledge:

0 points

Total: 39 points.

Dismissal threshold for transfer exams: 25 points.

Stipend threshold: 90 points.

Increased stipend threshold: 110 points.

Signed by the Dean of the Faculty of General Studies."

Ardan sighed and set the stamped report aside. Despite the fact that Kovertsky hadn’t gone back on his word and had given him those extra six points on his theory exam, he’d still failed him on the practical exam, where Ardi had gotten a great, nearly perfect result… but his formula had been different from the one in the book. Then again, even if, by some miracle enacted by the cooperative efforts of both the Sleeping Spirits and the Face of Light, he’d gotten the maximum number of points for both tests, he still wouldn’t have qualified for a stipend.

The only thing he could console himself with was the fact that he had done everything he’d been able to do and more besides. After classes, he had almost always rushed to the library, studying until eight o’clock when they closed the reading room to all but the final-year students.

Then he would return home. It took half an hour to get there, as he was saving on tram tickets, which cost sixteen kso for ten rides, regardless of distance traveled, which was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Once there, he would work until midnight, reviewing his own notes and working through the Stranger’s tome.

All of this, of course, had moved him forward. It had even been enough for a few professors to take note of his progress, though it was still not enough to secure a scholarship, or even a reliable buffer from expulsion.

Ardan occasionally reprimanded himself for his own hypocrisy. On one hand, he was fighting hard to stay at the university, but on the other, he didn’t plan to stay beyond New Year’s. It was strange behavior, to be sure… But that, too, was tomorrow’s worry.

For now, Ardi simply faced the very real problems that Mart had already warned him about.

Since they couldn’t take textbooks out of the library, and the ones issued for lectures were insufficient, he needed money to buy additional study materials.

To practice Star Magic at the university, he needed to rent practice grounds (where the physical and military training classes took place) or book similar ones in the city — he’d even gotten a few addresses.

At the university, an hour on the practice field cost seventy-five kso, which included unlimited replenishment of Red and Green Star rays. Blue rays, however, required an extra payment of eight kso per ray.

In the city, the training grounds cost twice as much and came with a cap on the number of rays. Naturally, the university’s grounds were only accessible to students and professors — even graduates couldn’t use them.

So, considering the fact that all of Ardi’s savings amounted to 37 exes, because he’d had the 18 he had brought with him and the 48 he’d earned from selling a suit, but 20 of those had gone to rent for two months, plus a deposit, 5 he’d sent to his mother because he couldn’t do otherwise, 3 had been spent on renting practice fields, and that last ex had been scattered across daily expenses… His situation was bleak.

Meanwhile, the university’s workload wasn’t getting any easier. In fact, it only grew with time. Each week, the topics became deeper and broader. Thanks to his training with Atta’nha and his experiments with the Stranger’s tome, Ardan was managing well enough in the practical sessions, but that was only for now. The further the theory advanced, the more challenging the practical lessons became.

The outcome was inevitable.

He needed money.

Ideally, he’d find a way to earn around fifty exes. Sixty would be even better. That would allow him to buy all the necessary textbooks and rent a practice field for at least a few hours each day over the next few weeks.

"Sleeping Spirits…" Ardi muttered, resting his head in his hand.

He was practically sprawled across the bar counter, his face nearly pressing into the polished wood that held the lingering scents of perfume, alcohol, smoke, and the sorrows that patrons came here to either pour out or drown.

A little ways down from him stood a row of "pirate hands," which were handles used to pull beer straight from the kegs, while a massive mirror lined the back wall, its shelves filled with bottles interspersed with photographs — snapshots of bar life, lively parties, jazz bands, and smiling regulars.

The bar, called "Bruce’s Jazz Bar," which was located on the ground floor of this building, was a popular spot. Perhaps it was popular because it was close to the Central District’s main transport hub, or maybe because it welcomed both humans and Firstborn. Mostly, though, it was frequented by orcs, who always occupied the couches in a dark corner, separated from the rest of the crowd by silent bouncers and red ropes that cordoned off their area.

They were quiet and calm, never causing trouble. In fact, in the month Ardi had been here, he hadn’t witnessed a single fight in the bar. Even the hotheads seemed to cool down at the mere sight of Arkar, not to mention the stoic, pureblood orc bouncers in the private area. They were massive figures, standing well over two meters tall, with arms so strong they could likely bend train tracks with them if they wanted to. The suits they wore were always stretched so tautly that they looked ready to burst.

Rumor had it that "Bruce’s" served good food as well, though Ardi hadn’t had the chance to try it. Money was tight, and he didn’t intend to spend it on something he could get for free. On the seventh day, he’d still go to the university, mostly to have lunch and visit the library, as the practice fields were usually booked down to the minute by students from the Military Faculty, who didn’t have to pay to use them.

As far as Ardan could tell after a month, each faculty at the university enjoyed its own privileges regarding the use of university property.

"Why the long face, kid?" Rumbled Arkar, who was rinsing some glasses.

Ardan had yet to figure out what exactly Arkar did for a living. Sometimes, he was behind the bar, other times, he was in the kitchen, helping the cooks. It seemed like he owned the whole building, though, since the tenants went to him with any issues. Despite this, Arkar didn’t carry himself like a man of wealth. His clothes were plain, he rarely treated himself to expensive drinks, and his meals were simple.

"Here," Ardi slid his report card across the table instead of answering.

Arkar set down a barrel-shaped glass he’d been drying, dug a pair of reading glasses out of his pocket, and leaned in to examine the paper. Nearsighted though he was, he only wore the glasses when he had to — he looked quite comical with them on.

"Well, hey… at least they’re not kicking you out, right?" The half-orc cleared his throat, returning the report. "Look on the bright side, Ardi. You still have a place to eat."

"Without a stipend, I’ll soon have nowhere to sleep," the boy sighed, glancing hopefully at Arkar. "Maybe… you could give me a discount?"

"No," came the firm reply.

"Had to try," Ardi shrugged.

"Have you tried finding work?"

"I did," he nodded.

He’d considered buying a few roots and stems from the herbalist’s shop he’d noticed a few streets east. Then he could make some mild stimulants that would let him get by on four hours of sleep a night instead of seven, freeing up more time for work. Of course, he’d pay the price later for borrowing from his own body’s resources, but…

"Couldn’t get hired, huh?" Arkar chuckled.

"The moment they see ’half-blood’ on my papers…"

"And the docks? They always need dockhands."

"I submitted an application to their guild, but there’s a separate… department for working with Firstborn and half-bloods and… you know how it is."

"I do," Arkar laughed. "They took four months to process my application until I brought in… let’s call them… some crisp, jingling ’requests.’"

"You bribed them for the chance to earn money?"

"That’s the capital for you, kid," Arkar spread his arms out, baring his teeth in a grin that matched the chilly city weather.

The tenth month — the Month of Waters — was well underway, and the capital had sunk into an endless stretch of cold rains mixed with slushy, sticky sleet. Occasionally, hail would beat a sharp rhythm against the rooftops and sidewalks. Puddles would glaze over with frost in the morning, and the black Niewa River was gradually freezing in the grip of cooling granite. The wind itself seemed to sneer at people — tugging at coats and fur stoles alike — much like Arkar’s grin.

Ardi was grateful that his Matabar blood kept him from feeling the full bite of the changing seasons. Even now, at midday, it looked like a sort of twilight had settled outside — whether it was evening or morning or simply that gray, unique Metropolis gloom was anyone’s guess.

At this hour, the bar was empty save for Arkar and Ardi. The place opened to the public at eight in the evening, with the workers arriving around five.

"By the wolf’s howl, you’re a mage, Ard!" Arkar suddenly exclaimed.

"That’s a bit of a stretch, considering…" Ardi tapped the report card with his finger.

"Yeah, yeah… but… can you do seals?" Arkar asked.

"I can do a few," Ardi replied, still a bit melancholic. "But I’ve had no luck finding work as a mage’s apprentice or anything… Even if it’s just refilling ink at the Engineering Guild, they won’t take me. They don’t say why, but after seeing my papers, they just show me the door."

"And… what if…" Arkar lowered his voice and glanced around. "What if... you did a bit of… unofficial work?"

Ardi looked up at him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. He had long suspected that things at the bar were… not entirely above board. But whatever went on here, it was discreet enough that he hadn’t been able to work out the details.

"I don’t need any trouble with the law," he muttered, recalling the warning he’d received from the Cloak at the Anorsky estate.

"Nothing illegal," Arkar dismissed his words with a wave of his hand." It’s just that we have... I have. Yes, I do. I have my own man in the Mages’ Guild. He’s very talkative when he’s drunk. So he brushed with a broom... I mean he blabbed something about... about-"

"I don’t want to know the details," Ardi interrupted him, palms up. "Seriously, Arkar. I absolutely do not want any trouble with the law!"

The half-orc squinted at him.

"Firstly, there’s nothing illegal about it. Our... my contacts have checked it out. It’s... what’s the term... a gray area of the law? Something like that, I think..."

"Thanks for the hot chocolate," Ardi placed three kso on the counter. "I’m heading upstairs to study."

He got up from his chair and headed toward the inconspicuous door leading from the bar to the interior of the building. It was too much for him to get into....

"Seventy exes," the half-orc said quietly. "Half up front. You can keep it even if things don’t work out."

Ardi froze. The squirrel on his left shoulder tugged him away from the offer, but the little snow leopard on his right… nudged him to turn back.

"Tell me more."

Arkar grinned a predator’s smile. He moved around the counter and took a seat beside Ardi.

***

"So, the task isn’t… complicated," Arkar took a sip of his strong tea made from steppe herbs. It was a bitter concoction the orcs enjoyed. "You just go in and out."

"In and out," Ardi echoed, glancing warily at the whiskey bottle nearby.

"Want some?" The half-orc squinted at him again.

"I’ll pass," Ardi shook his head.

"So… do we have a deal?" Arkar wiped his massive hand on a towel and extended it.

The young man hesitated, weighing the proposal in his mind. The idea had an air of recklessness to it, but then again… Ardi’s eyes drifted to the thirty-five exes lying on the counter. There were another 35 waiting if he succeeded.

In and out…

"Deal," he said, clasping Arkar’s hand.

"I knew you weren’t a coward, kid," Arkar laughed, squeezing his hand with an almost bone-crushing grip.

"You wouldn’t believe how often I hear the opposite," Ardi sighed, taking a sip from his third cup of hot chocolate.

"Just clean them."

"What?"

"Clean their clocks."

"I’d prefer an explanation in Galessian…"

"Put… what’s it called… physical ornamentation on the face of… um… the issue," Arkar tried to explain, smiling that sharp grin of his.

Ardi chuckled. Sometimes, Arkar’s expressions were very… strange.

"An argument."

"Yeah, that’s what I said," the half-orc looked pleased.

"I mean, you said ’ornament’ instead of ’argument.’"

Arkar scratched the back of his head with his nail-like claws, which was a habit of his whenever he was deep in thought. He wasn’t the brightest or most educated person in the Empire, but he had a warm soul and a big heart that more than compensated for his lack of intellect.

"So, they’re different words?" He asked, bewildered.

"Yep."

"Well, I’ll be damned..." Arkar whistled. "Kid, whatever high words people might throw around, as soon as they start dropping teeth, everyone’s suddenly speaking the same language."

"And what language is that?" Ardi asked with genuine curiosity.

"The language of pain," Arkar winked. "It’s a pretty universal tongue. Let’s say someone doesn’t understand that debts need to be paid on time. You give their kneecap a little twist…" Arkar caught himself, shaking his head like a dog shaking off water.

"By the wolf’s howl, Ard," he sniffed his tea as if searching for some hidden drugs in it. "We’ve only known each other a month, but sometimes it feels like I’m in tongues... talking, I mean... to an old friend…"

Ardan looked away, thinking of his immediate plans. After securing a scholarship, his next goal was to research the Witch’s Gaze and find a way, perhaps, to lessen his… peculiar effect on people.

"I’m just good at getting along with people," he said vaguely, sipping his hot chocolate.

"Oh, really?" The half-orc clicked his tongue at him. "Then why did Tess complain about you yesterday?"

"Tess?" Ardi looked at him in surprise. "Did I bother her somehow?"

Tess, as it turned out, lived just below him, in a modest one-bedroom apartment with a small kitchen, a shared bathroom, and a cozy bay window — the very one beneath Ardi’s own balcony.

Sometimes, in the evenings, as he worked on his Star Magic studies, he’d listen to her rehearsals. She would spend about an hour on the old piano (a few strings were clearly broken), then sing for another couple of hours, always finishing up around eleven.

In the mornings, Tess usually left for work. Ardi suspected that she worked at Miss Okladov’s atelier, given her impeccable, yet humble wardrobe — especially that dress she wouldn’t likely have been able to afford on her own. Occasionally, they would cross paths on the stairs, exchange polite greetings, and then go their separate ways.

"She said you were talking to someone in the middle of the night," Arkar continued, his yellowish eyes fixed on Ardi. "And… well, I didn’t see anyone go up those stairs last night…"

Ardan’s mind raced, a dozen thoughts and emotions swirling through him. Last night, as promised, the second visit from Poplar had come. The messenger cat, wearing his quaint boots adorned with red embroidery, had appeared soundlessly, delivering a letter from Anastasia. They’d exchanged a few words, then the cat had groomed himself and disappeared as silently as he had come.

Perhaps Tess had somehow overheard their brief conversation, even if Poplar had arrived well after midnight.

As for the letters from the Grand Princess, their correspondence had an odd rhythm. She’d share details of her life in the palace, frequently complaining about the endless rules that governed every aspect of her life there. In return, Ardi would offer stories of the university, the bar, and his little balcony apartment.

"Experiments," he said simply, hoping that such an explanation would satisfy anyone unfamiliar with magic.

"Interesting," Arkar drew the word out, sipping his tea while studying Ardi carefully. "Alright, kid. As you say… The train leaves at midnight on the third day."

"A train?" Ardi asked. "But you said it was just the next district over."

"A figure of speech, Ardi, just a figure of speech," Arkar waved him off, returning to the glasses in need of a polish.

Ardi stood up to leave, only to be halted by Arkar’s voice.

"Ard."

He turned.

Arkar, still wiping down a glass, nodded toward the money on the counter.

"You forgot this."

"Oh, right," Ardi stammered, grabbing the bills and tucking them into his inner pocket. "Thank you."

"Take care," Arkar gave him a wink, whistling a simple tune as he returned to his meticulous cleaning.

Ardi lingered there for a moment, then made his way upstairs. He passed through a dimly-lit corridor so poorly illuminated that even his half-Matabar eyes struggled to see there, and then climbed several flights of stairs.

The faint scent of grass drifted past him, a smell reminiscent of spring along the riverbanks — fresh and green, with a playful tickling quality, as if it were trying to sneak past the folds of his clothing to touch his skin directly.

That was Tess’ scent.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

Unlike her bold stage persona, in her everyday life, Tess was… no, not dull, but rather modest. Yes, modest was the best word for it.

She would gather her red hair into a tight bun and always wore a wide-brimmed city-lady-hat — the same one every day. Her slender legs were hidden beneath a plain, loose woolen skirt of the most somber hue. Beneath it, her sturdy, well-worn boots clicked as she walked, and she cleaned and polished them herself, often leaving traces of shoe polish on her hands.

She also didn’t wear makeup, though this didn’t detract from her beauty at all. It simply made her less noticeable, which, it seemed, was precisely what she wanted.

Within the bar, no one bothered her, likely for the same reason they didn’t start fights there. And yet, only the blind could’ve missed the hungry glances patrons cast her way.

Tess performed twice a week, on the seventh day and the third. Ardi suspected that she did so not for the money, but for the privilege of living in the apartment.

"Morning?" Tess raised an eyebrow, her expression calm and, in some subtle way, cool. "I’d say it’s already afternoon, Ardi."

It was a stark contrast to the radiant sun she became on stage, singing about a cat longing to see the ocean.

The ocean…

It had been a month, and Ardi still hadn’t made the trip to see the Swallow Ocean along the coast. But there was time. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

"May I pass?" She asked, gesturing to the stairs.

"Oh, right," Ardi snapped out of his thoughts, moving aside to let her through.

Tess passed by him without another word.

She had gone down a few flights when Ardi suddenly called out, leaning over the railing.

"Sorry if I bothered you last night!"

She looked up at him with those impossibly green, almost shimmering eyes, then said nothing and disappeared through the door.

Straightening back up, Ardi almost slapped himself.

"What was that?" He muttered, scolding himself. "What are you, an idiot?"

Ardan didn’t understand why he always felt compelled to talk to Tess. It wasn’t that he liked her, not in the same way he’d once fallen for Anna during that first arithmetic lesson. He didn’t struggle for words around her; his heart didn’t skip a beat. He didn’t even think about her all that much.

And yet…

Perhaps she reminded him of home, with her light scent so reminiscent of herbs, her fiery hair that blazed across the stage like the dawn, or maybe it was simply because she sang.

Singing…

A letter from Anna had never arrived, and Ardi felt a mixture of emotions about that. On the one hand, he was almost relieved that she had moved on along her own path in life, while he followed his. But there was also a faint heaviness in his chest, a small, hollow ache, as if something vital had been pulled from inside him — something small, seemingly insignificant, and yet somehow crucial.

"Tomorrow’s worries," he reminded himself, turning the key in the lock, which he’d recently oiled himself.

Entering his small, meticulously cleaned room, Ardi shut the door, hung his key on a small nail he’d hammered beside the entrance, and placed his hat and coat on the rack before sitting down at his desk.

He squinted, pulling the required book from his stack of textbooks. Flipping past a few chapters, he found the right page and began to read. The plan had been to give himself a few hours of "stellar jurisprudence" today, followed by about three more of general theory, and then the Stranger’s textbook would have come toward the end, but he’d have to twist things around.

"Defensive Seals and Their Types."

"…There are, as you surely recall, three types in total. Absorbing, Redirecting, and Dissipating. But let’s refresh our memory.

First, there’s the Absorbing Defensive Seal. It’s one of the most commonly used types due to its simplicity. Typically, it involves creating a dual-contoured seal with a fixed rune array.

But while the rune array usually serves as a foundation for a particular property in most seals, in a defensive seal, it is meant to absorb these properties.

Of course, the Absorbing Seal doesn’t absorb the opposing seal’s properties or functions, but rather, the overall amount of energy it carries. And so, the question arises: why study the types of seals if you could just overload a shield spell with energy and achieve the same result?

Well, you could, assuming you have an unlimited supply of Ley energy.

Otherwise… Picture an ocean with all its boundless power. And then imagine the thin strip of a stone path within it.

Yes, you guessed it. I’m talking about a breakwater. No matter how fearsome the ocean may be, its waves crash futilely against the breakwater, unable to breach it. Only a typhoon’s shocking force can raise a wave high enough to consume that narrow strip of stone.

And now, let’s compare the power it takes to lift the ocean all the way to the sky and the effort it takes to build the breakwater.

Defensive magic operates on the same principle.

We aim to create a barrier with the minimum energy required, a barrier that would demand the maximum effort to break through or bypass.

Thus, by creating, for example, an absorbing shield with a fixed rune array, we encode in these runes the properties they will neutralize in the opposing spell.

Let’s use a Basic Shield as an example:

[Star: Any

Ray Count: 3 Red Star rays or more

School: Defensive

Element: Universal

Classification: Dual-contoured

Rune Array: Fixed

Maximum Rune Combinations: Arbitrary, but no more than 9]

As you recall from the beginner course, this seal can have any array of runes that you set, bringing it closer to a free array. However, I will once again remind you that shield magic is often an exception to strict seal classifications.

So why do we classify it as a fixed rather than a free array, despite its flexibility? Simply because the number of properties the Basic Shield can block is limited, and each rune in the array will drain your energy.

Thus, while we could indeed construct a very strong defense by blocking nine properties, this would require twelve rays from a Red Star. Using the conversion table for Ley rays, we can see that a proper defense against nine properties would require six rays from a Red Star and two from a Green one to function. Or three from a Red and three from a Green Star.

That’s still too much, isn’t it?

And so, we can conclude that the absorbing type of defense, one aimed at absorbing the properties of an opposing spell, may not always be the most practical defensive magic, especially when we lack the time to analyze the opposing seal’s properties in detail. That is why this type of shield is more frequently used in stationary constructs than in day-to-day life or on the battlefield.

The second type:

Redirecting.

This type…"

Ardi closed the book and opened his notes, flipping through them until he reached a section on spells that the Stranger had called "lockpicks." Previously, Ardan hadn’t understood their purpose, but now, he was starting to see their utility.

The remaining two types of seals — Redirecting and Dissipating — wouldn’t be immediately useful to him, but the Absorbing type… That was something he needed to understand in greater detail.

Ardi now understood why Mart had seemed so skeptical about the Universal Shield described in the Stranger’s book. Even just comparing it to the Basic Shield of contemporary magic was like comparing an old single-shot pistol from the Dark Lord’s Rebellion Era to a modern revolver.

Their concept might be the same, but their functionality was worlds apart. And it wasn’t just about the number of metaphorical rounds, of course.

For example, in order to overload the absorption of the Universal Shield, as with any absorbing seal, you only needed to add more properties to the offensive effect than the shield could absorb, if there was enough power for that. And if not, then you just had to overload one property with Ley energy.

So, a Universal Shield of, say, two Red and two Green rays (which, when recalculated, was eight rays of a Red Star, given that one ray of a Green Star equaled three rays of a Red Star) could easily be destroyed by an attack spell of monstrous power, as Gleb Davos had done — his attack had simply contained so many properties that the Universal Shield hadn’t been able to absorb them all.

Or you could just use an overall weaker attack, with one or even a couple of properties that would be at maximum strength. Like with a bullet, for example. It only has a few properties, but in terms of raw energy, those properties are loaded to the brim, which does not allow the Universal Shield to fulfil its function.

"Curious..." Biting the tip of his tongue, Ardan, armed with a stencil, a pencil and lots of patience, began to work on the Stranger’s "lockpicks," the whole point of which was to find the most vulnerable rune property of the shield and overload it with a minimum amount of energy used.

***

As planned, Ardan was back in the bar by eleven on the third day, nursing a cup of cocoa. A jazz band was playing on the stage, warming up the growing crowd before Tess’ performance. The saxophone — a curious instrument with an odd bend and some keys on it — seemed to be putting in extra effort, its sound lively and flirtatious.

The past few days had been… chaotic. Ardan had attended classes and, somehow, managed to pay attention. Thanks to the money Arkar had given him, he had even rented a practice field for a few hours and tested the "lockpicks," achieving the impressive feat of breaking through two out of the ten shields on the test dummy.

A twenty percent success rate over three days was… not bad... probably.

But of course, his mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of tonight’s escapade.

"Stop shaking so much," Arkar clapped him on the shoulder, sending not just Ardan, but the entire table wobbling as well.

For the first time ever, he was behind the red cord barrier that separated the outer club from the corner occupied by the orcs. By the way, they, just like Arkar, wore their jackets without any waistcoats. On top of that, they wore identical jackets with slightly odd stitching, which looked as if it had been torn…

Ardan sat on a comfortable sofa, which, while made from leather, was not at all hard. The muted red glow from the Ley-lamps cast a cherry hue over his pale hands.

"There they are," Arkar leaned forward.

He rose and greeted the people who approached them.

The first was a man in his forties, with piercing gray eyes that held a wolfish glint.

The man was lean and wiry, his figure adorned with an array of throwing knives strapped across his chest, waist, and even around his thighs and calves, as if he were prepared for a siege.

"Elver," Arkar greeted him.

"Arkar," the man replied with a curt nod.

The second person was a young woman with a presence so magnetic it made Cassara look modest by comparison. She wore a cocktail dress, was walking gracefully on high heels, and her shoulders were wrapped in a light fur stole.

"Lisa," Arkar took her hand and pressed a polite kiss to the back of it.

"That tickles, Arkar," she laughed, her voice as rich and decadent as a cream-filled pastry.

The third was a middle-aged man with a soft, almost doughy look about him. He was not overweight, but something about him suggested that even a gentle poke would make him ooze thick syrup.

"Milomir," Arkar offered his hand again.

"You know…" Milomir replied in a voice as smooth as butter, sidestepping the offered hand, "I don’t care much for a man’s touch."

The last of them was a young man, perhaps just a bit older than Ardi, who was nervously clutching a cap in his hands. His clothes were patched and well-worn, and consisted of a simple jacket and pants made from sturdy materials.

"And, of course, there’s Andrew," Arkar introduced him.

"Yes… yes, of course," the young man stammered, stealing a quick, anxious glance at Ardi before looking away.

"And this," Lisa sidled up to Ardi, leaning in close enough for her perfume to drift over him, "is our young wizard, who will-"

"Lisa," Elver’s voice cut in sharply.

"Yes, yes," she batted her foxlike eyelashes at him, grinning mischievously. "I wasn’t planning to spill any secrets, my dear, ever-so-nervous Elver."

A heavy silence settled over the table, but it didn’t last long. Arkar, looming like a dark shadow, placed several bundles of bills on the table. They disappeared into pockets with a speed that left Ardi blinking.

"Elver, you’re in charge," Arkar said.

"Understood, overseer," Elver replied, with a slight, almost formal nod.

Overseer? Ardi thought, confused by the term.

"Perfect," Arkar glanced at his watch. "Off you go, then, and may the Sleeping Spirits watch over you."

Elver rose, followed by the others. Ardi, bringing up the rear, had just stepped out from the private section of the club when he felt Arkar’s grip on his shoulder.

The half-orc pressed something into his coat pocket, a weight that Ardi immediately recognized.

"Why?" Ardi whispered, realizing it was a revolver.

"In this damned city, some iron’s a handy thing to have, Ardi," Arkar murmured and then withdrew, pretending that nothing had happened.

Ardi’s heart gave a sharp pang. This really was nothing illegal, right? But at this point, there was no turning back. The train had left the station, and he was already on it.

With a sigh, he followed the others out of the bar.

Just before he stepped through the door, he glanced back toward the stage. Tess was about to start her performance, a rising sun of auburn hues ready to open the night with her audience’s favorite song.

Their eyes met briefly before she looked away, launching into her rendition of "The Cat."

Ardi couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he’d seen disappointment in her gaze.