Scribing seals is much more than just a technical skill. It is an art and a science. Art in that it’s living, you need to have a good feel for mana, its flow, and the surroundings. As for science, there are entire books for senior scribes discussing the topic, I shan’t discuss the topic here, but I shall give you several references.

  — Excerpt from The Less Broached Topics of Sealscribing

  Day 150, 8:30 PM

  Randomly running into the objective of a mission for knights questors while looking for berries was one of the most ridiculous things life threw my way in a while. I even ignored Brand, who ran away from me once I started acting erratically.

  My behavior might have seemed odd to him, since I spent several hours sprinting around. I was memorizing the features of the place where we accidentally met and the path leading to it. Once I was certain I could find the location no matter what, I snapped my neck and was back in the cave.

  Instead of heading for Thunderbluff, I spent five days further sculpting my realm, completing the fifth layer and a good chunk of the sixth as if the loop was a keeper. Fortunately, perfecting the first layers had translated into experience for the latter ones, and I was satisfied with my first attempt. It probably wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough. Besides, I planned on double-checking everything before advancing.

  With all things in order, I left my cavern and entered Newstar’s. The boy was meditating, completely oblivious of his surroundings. I scribed mana and sound blocking seals around him, then erased the screaming alarm. Then I rubbed away my own seals, fixed the disabled alarm, and I was off to find Brand with the kid none the wiser.

  I intentionally left a day early, using the extra time to search for fruit and berries amongst the bushes. Accidentally running into Brand while picking berries seemed more spontaneous than heading into the Summersweald because of his bounty and finding him immediately. Nobody would believe such a coincidence, even if it really happened once.

  The bushes rustled while I was bent over, picking berries, and Brand stepped out into the clearing. He staggered back with a scream, clutching at his chest, as I stood.

  “Thank heavens you’re here! I got separated from my guide, and I can’t find him.”

  I stared at him, scrunching my eyebrows as if trying to recall where I had seen him.

  “Are you Brand Coldridge?” I asked and continued before he started his self-deprecating tirade. “There is a reward for whoever brings you back to Thunderfall alive.”

  “Yes, yes, please. Thank you.” Brand nodded vigorously, his smile nervous, for some reason giving me the impression he expected me to be an assassin. “My family is rich. They will certainly reward you for returning me home safe and sound.”

  Brand’s hands trembled as he fidgeted. My skills told me he was fatigued and malnourished, but well hydrated. He wasn’t an awakened, yet his body equaled that of a newly advanced second realm knight, some four times tougher and stronger than that of a regular human. Most peculiar.

  “The jungle’s edge is some two hundred and twenty miles that way. Can you walk that far?”

  He bobbed his head, relief clear in his eyes. “Yes, yes, not all at once, but I can cross two hundred miles in three days.”

  Something fishy was going on. “Did you really get separated from your guide?”

  He stiffened at that.

  “Did your guide attack you?”

  He shook his head, taking offense at the question. “No, Redfir is loyal.”

  “But something did happen?” I pushed, and after hesitating a moment, Brand started talking.

  “Three awakened attacked us while I was gathering herb samples. Redfir blocked them while I ran. He has been guarding me ever since I was a boy, and he’s like an uncle to me.”

  More than one uncle stabbed his nephew in the back. But if Redfir really had betrayed Brand, the young man would’ve been dead.

  “What was his realm? Third? Fourth?”

  Brand’s eyes darted left. He wanted to avoid answering such questions, but regained control of himself quickly.

  “Third.”

  I nodded. “He would’ve caught up with you long ago if he were alive. The attackers were mages, right?”

  Brand nodded, his eyes wide. “How did you know?”

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

  “Knights and mageknights would’ve killed or captured you by now. That means your attackers focused on offense at the cost of everything else.”

  “Are you a mageknight?”

  “I am, but a second realm one. While I can block mages’ attacks aimed at me, my spells lack the range to shield you.”

  I expected he would ask me what a mageknight was doing, picking berries in Summersweald. Instead, Brand fell on his knees, his hands laced in a begging pose, as he lost control of his barely contained panic.

  “Please, please, escort me home! I don’t know why the cult is after me. I’m just a non-awakened. Maybe they were trying to blackmail my father. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Wait, which cult?”

  Brand paled, clamping his lips shut.

  “You said the cult is after you. Which cult? And what can you tell me about them?”

  “I hardly know anything about them. An awakened such as yourself must know more than I do.”

  “Treat me like a completely ignorant child and tell me everything you know. Otherwise, I will assume this is the cults’ trap, and I’ll walk away.”

  Brand paled, his brain working furiously. Finally, he surrendered with a sigh.

  “They are a force arrayed against humanity. There are four of them: Cult of Blood, Cult of Bone, Cult of Ghost, and Cult of Flesh. They are fanatics who seek talented awakened and either recruit them or kill them, and death is preferable.”

  That didn’t sound right. If death was preferable, none would join, but there was no need to point out that part of the propaganda regarding the four cults.

  “At a glance, the cultists are indistinguishable from regular awakened, but experienced mageknights can spot them if they pay close attention. Talking about them is forbidden, and after any interaction with them you’re supposed to go straight to the heresy hunters, so they can investigate them and root them out if they have a hidden base in the vicinity. That’s all I know, I swear.”

  He was lying. He knew something, something that could harm him personally or perhaps his family. “And you have no idea why they targeted you?”

  Brand shook his head, enough panic and confusion in his eyes that I believed him.

  “All right, then.” I helped him up. “You’re slightly malnourished, but otherwise fine. What do you say we run for the jungle’s edge, then I can hide you somewhere safe and go find your family.”

  Brand nodded, and we headed back towards civilization.

  We exited the jungle on the third day. I used the hours of rest to badger him for information. His family lived in the east and were famous alchemists for generations. Meanwhile, Brand was a stain on their honor, the first to have failed to awaken in generations.

  His father was a well respected fourth realm mageknight, Brand his only child. Brand’s mother had died during her second childbirth, losing the baby as well. Despite Lord Coldridge’s considerable influence, he was powerless and watched life wink out of her. He blamed himself, never marrying again, but after Brand’s failure, Lord Coldridge had taken two concubines and had three children with them. Oddly enough, one of them also died during childbirth, losing the baby as well.

  Brand devoted himself to alchemy, and had already become an expert at his humble age of twenty-four. After prodding him further, I learned he pursued alchemy with such single-mindedness because he wanted to make a potion which would give a second chance to those who had failed to awaken.

  A lot of interesting information to process, the deaths of Lord Coldridge’s partners particularly bizarre. Even as a second realm mundane physician, I stood a great chance at saving a woman giving birth, regardless of the circumstances. A wealthy, accomplished alchemist should have had a stock of healing potions and tinctures to save his loved ones, so why did he lose two wives and two children?

  Brand’s unnatural physique came to mind immediately. I couldn’t tell whether it was due to my own thoughts, or one of my deduction skills tingling, but I was certain those two were related.

  “You’ve been extraordinarily strong and durable ever since you were a child, right?”

  Brand nodded. “All Coldridges have powerful bodies. Even as mages we can dominate knights in the second realm, even I, a non-awakened, can fend for myself against a second realm knight.”

  “And you used your ability to run like the commoner scum that you are.” I turned around, coming face to face with five men wearing nondescript, green saurian scale armor, leather pants of the same material, and high-quality boots.

  They were dressed like woodsmen rather than mages, but the eerie speed with which their eyes moved betrayed them for what they were. The mage was still speaking when steel hissed as five swords left their sheaths and the cultists rushed towards us.

  I kicked the young man into the jungle’s safety. His body would have shattered if not for whatever strengthening technique his family used on their infants. Luckily, as tough as he was, he simply flew back into the bushes, allowing me to position myself between him and our attackers.

  With a flick of my wrist, two daggers whistled through the air. A sheet of red snatched one. The other mage wasn’t as proficient. He stumbled as my blade entered his eye, disappearing into his brain even as he fell.

  The four fanned out without reacting. Two slowed and headed for me, blades low. Another circled, opening enough distance so that he could react to whistling daggers, while heading for Brand. The last one plunged his sword into his dying comrade, chanting.

  The two coming for me were the most skilled. Another pair of daggers flew, achieving nothing save for wasting mana and a bit of the mages’ focus. Then I lunged for them, drawing my staff off my back.

  At ten feet away, four crimson icicles flew at me, revealing the cultists as peak third realm mages. I twirled my staff and shattered them, immediately followed by the crunch of a cultist’s skull. The one going round was halfway into the jungle, while the one drawing blood from their comrade’s corpse glowed red, the corpse already looking withered.

  Sparks flew as I parried a slash and jumped towards the one rushing into the jungle. A mistake. Instead of following me, the cultist I was fighting stopped mid-slash and disengaged, running straight into the jungle. I cursed, threw a dagger at the one drawing blood, then changed my target again, my error costing me precious seconds. In the corner of my eye, I caught the one drawing blood block my dagger with a blood shield.

  The one I was chasing suddenly spun and lashed out at me, the last mistake he ever made. I brained him, but lost sight of the fourth cultist and of Brand.

  I sprinted after the sound of rustling leaves and caught a wet squelch. By the time I caught up with Brand, the cultist was gone, and Brand was sprawled atop a bush, blood oozing out the gaping hole at the back of his head.

  Well, shit.