44th of Season of Air, 80th year of the 32nd cycle

  Newt, his eyes closed, sat on his bed in the airship’s private cabin. Within his realm, he toiled, still working on the final few flaws left by his realm’s tempering. He thought he would complete it while the ship raced towards the gathering spot for the Sage’s Realm tournament, but he would need another day or two until he was done.

  Lady Alabaster and Lord Flameax had both spent years working with him for hours every day. Newt’s techniques were average for fifth-realmers, which sounded impressive, but Newt knew he could do better than that. Especially after the tempering, after which his mana seemed stronger and more responsive to his will. Unfortunately, he lacked time.

  Inside his realm, Newt crawled through the tunnel of his underground spell seal, doing one last check for imperfections before he once more unleashed lava through it, when the chime sounded.

  He sighed.

  Never enough time. We’re landing in half an hour. I’ll take three more minutes before I can let magma into this seal. He frowned. Is it lava or magma if it’s flowing underground, this close to the surface?

  Newt’s passing thought was a question some might discuss at length, but whatever the answer, it changed little for him. He corrected a minor crack and removed a sharp edge jutting from the wall before confirming everything was as perfect as he could make it.

  “If I had known the tempering would damage them so much, I wouldn’t have scribed them.” Newt grumbled, but not really meaning it. Scribing his realm after the tempering had become even more difficult, so any work he had done before was welcome, even if he had to remove the flaws which had occurred during the tempering process.

  With everything in order, and one last, final double-check, Newt unleashed mana into the seal.

  Nothing out of the ordinary happened. No leaks, and the effect took hold. Satisfied with his work, Newt opened his eyes and left the privacy of his chamber.

  The sight of clouds sailing past the window evoked a slight trembling deep within Newt’s heart, but he squashed the emotion. Gatemaster was with them, and unless he allowed it, nobody could tamper with the airship under his watch.

  Newt entered the spacious chamber where the rest of the students had gathered. Explorer’s Gate had only ten slots for the tournament, but they had brought over a hundred students to see the wonders of the Sage’s City and mingle with other talented awakened of their realm.

  Emeraldstreak stood along with the rest of his sisters and brother. Against all odds, Sharprock had returned, beaten and miserable, ten years after the Blood Cult attack. Of Sharpcut, there was no trace, and the order had added his name and an empty urn to the memorial, considering him an honorable fallen.

  Sharprock naturally didn’t make the team. He was never the best student, and the ten years of surviving in the jungle, skulking around alone and surviving the onslaught alone and unarmed had left their mark.

  Newt was about to approach his older brother when the clouds parted, revealing a snow-capped mountain. The top was flat, as if cleaved by a giant, and a vast city of white buildings sprawled across the plateau.

  As the airship slowed, Newt observed the scene in silent awe. The snowy mountain rose above the clouds, which swirled like a white sea surrounding a rocky island.

  A low murmur filled the room, turning louder and more excited as students spoke above the whistle of wind and the ship’s hum.

  “It is an inspiring sight,” Lady Woodhopper said, and the students’ conversations died sudden deaths.

  “I took part in the tournament long ago, and I was just as excited as you are,” she continued. “Soon we will land, then you will follow us to our accommodations. I expect none of you will cause any trouble. That means you are not to shout, curse, goad, or speak rudely with members of other forces. You are not to fight, brawl, or challenge anyone to duels. Lastly, in no way will you offend the city’s law enforcement, the organizer, or the memory of the revered Sage, the seventh emperor. Is that understood?”

  Everyone nodded without uttering a word. One needed to be touched in the head to speak ill of any imperial, let alone one that was a legendary hero.

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  “Good. If the law enforcers approach you or even take you into custody, you will remain polite and obedient. The odds of something like that happening are negligible, but some of you are trouble magnets, and you never know.”

  A few smirks and sharp looks were exchanged, and by those looks Newt realized at least five people, other than him, matched Lady Woodhopper’s description, even though he was certain the friendly gibe was meant for him.

  Lady Woodhopper retreated to the exit, giving the students enough room to talk, but nobody broke the silence of their brewing excitement.

  Newt considered the type of events awaiting, hoping he could win his order first place. It was unrealistic, since the royal and ducal families participated along with every notable order in the empire. Of the elites, only the imperials themselves were missing.

  Top fifteen. Newt clenched his fists. That would be achievement enough.

  The chaplain in charge of the Chamber of Instruction had explained the past events, and they were a mixed bunch. Some individual, some group, some directly competitive, where groups were pitted against each other, while others were solitary affairs without opposing teams.

  The city outside the window grew larger. Its towers and spires rising impossibly high, stabbing into the blue sky, and as the Explorer’s Gate airship approached, Newt realized just how gigantic the largest structures were, and how tiny he was in comparison.

  “The city houses over ten million residents,” Sharprock said. “Once upon a time, twenty-six cycles ago, the greatest order in the world resided here, and in their arrogance, they decided to overthrow the imperial family.”

  Newt listened to the story with interest. He had not checked the library for information regarding the tournament, since the chaplains had already told them anything remotely relevant.

  “The Sages’ Association had twelve tenth realm exalts, four of them slayers. Over the course of centuries, they had gathered numerous allies, and when the time was right, they attacked. The Sages’ War started a chain of events which brought about the end of the sixth cycle and gave rise to the seventh emperor.”

  Newt listened, not noticing the ship slowing down. They were about to land.

  “The imperial family received little support, with the majority of orders taking a neutral stance, letting the two greatest forces destroy each other, hoping to profit from their conflict. The imperials withdrew all their forces to the capital. Histories say they did this to reduce the collateral damage, but it’s more likely they lacked the manpower to defend dozens of cities against an army moving freely through the countryside. Whatever the case, the attackers conquered city after city without resistance, and soon reached the capital, where the decisive battle was fought.”

  Sharprock grinned.

  “Everyone expected the imperials would hide behind their walls, but they attacked instead. The previous emperors, presumed dead, charged into the attackers without support from their lower realm descendants. Six against twenty, they fought, destroying the entirety of the enemy force with the aftershocks of their combat. The only ones to flee were four ninth realm rebels.

  “The battle had lasted for two moons, the imperial capital and its loyal citizens protected by the world’s strongest spell seals while the land bled and heaved with each blow and each death of the legendary warriors. In the end, only the second emperor survived. Grievously wounded, he returned, crowned the ninth realm Saphir as the seventh emperor, and passed away as her exalted reign started.”

  The ship landed, but everyone listened to Sharprock’s telling.

  “Her forces poured out of the imperial capital, recapturing all that the imperial family had lost, and reached here. Instead of condemning and butchering the surviving rebels and their families, she gave them a choice. All awakened above the eighth realm were to gather at the headquarters of the Sages’ Association.

  “Once there, the emperor gave them an ultimatum. They would either sacrifice themselves to give birth to the strongest secret realm, which would benefit all of humanity, or the imperial family would march upon their orders and clans, wiping them out until the last drop of traitorous blood was purged from the empire.”

  Sharprock stopped talking and headed for the exit. A wave of silent fury passed through the crowd at that moment — he left without finishing the story.

  “What happened then?” Newt asked, reading the mood.

  “The champions and order masters obeyed, and the emperor gave their orders and clans a hundred years of guaranteed peace in exchange for the grand realm they had created.”

  Sharprock kept walking.

  “And what about the four ninth realm survivors? What happened to them?”

  Sharprock shrugged. “The four ninth realm elders of the Sages’ Association remained unaccounted for, the rest of their order annihilated, their ancestral territory turned into an imperial city - the Sage’s City.”

  Sharprock left the airship, the rest of the group following, and Newt hurried to catch up to him.

  “There was no reason to leave in the middle.”

  “It made for a better story.” Sharprock smiled. “If I had just told it, it wouldn’t have been nearly as memorable, but this way, with you having to tear words from my mouth, it made the story more interesting and filled it with a bit of eerie mystique.”

  He looked Newt in the eye.

  “Did the grandmasters survive? Did they plot revenge? How did they survive when all the others perished? The questions are endless, and since the story was cut short, now those questions drift in everyone’s minds.”

  “Leave him be, Newt.” Greenbow shook her head, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Our brother has always been on the eccentric side, thriving on attention. I bet deep down he wishes he was an airhead.”

  “Nonsense,” Sharprock beamed a smile. “I’m as earth-aligned as one can be. I’m a pure diamond.”