What do I know about magic?

  “Not much,” I admitted, keeping my tone casual. “Only what I’ve read, and that wasn’t exactly reliable.” Vael raised an eyebrow, but I went on. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost in amusement, before he spoke.

  “Then let me explain a few things. There are what we call spheres. Three of them. I can give you an explanation of two. The third, not much is known, since they are no longer with us. The first is magic. The second is divine. Magic is nature and our relationship with it. Divine is the gods’ grace, channeled through us as conduits. The last…” He paused briefly. “All we know is their power came from taking, somehow.”

  Vael took a measured breath. “We here are mages. We use the magic sphere for all we do. We have a core, and through it, we draw mana to work our craft.”

  “So your core pulls mana from the world around it?” I asked.

  “Yes. This is the most basic teaching given to every mage when they enter this cathedral. Now, this brings us to you.”

  A bead of sweat rolled down my back. Something was changing. And something was wrong. I let my gaze drift, slow and casual, but my Perception skill was flaring warnings. It was behind me.

  “Forgive me,” I said, rising to my feet before he could continue. “Something’s bothering me. Just a moment, if you don’t mind.” I left Emberline resting on the table, sheathed and silent.

  That alone earned a few raised eyebrows. Every mage in the room watched me closely now, like someone had just pulled the pin but left the grenade sitting politely on a tablecloth. I walked calmly toward the two knights flanking the door. Both stood motionless, but I saw the flicker of tension behind their eyes. Stopping a few feet away, I addressed the knight on the left. “Would you mind stepping forward? Just a few paces.”

  He hesitated, then turned slightly toward Vael. The Arch Mage gave a slight nod. “Go ahead.”

  The knight moved forward, his boots echoing softly on the stone floor. I circled him slowly, quietly, observing. Then I moved behind him.

  “I had to get a better look at your armor,” I said casually, letting the words carry just enough weight to land. “Being a blacksmith, and one who makes weapons and armor, the chance to see Tower-forged plate up close? It’s a thrill.”

  I stepped a little closer, letting my eyes travel over the curves and edges of the armor as if I were studying a prized display piece. “Now, take Captain Dennes’ armor over there,” I said, my gaze flicking her way. “That’s a well-worn set. Battle-tested. Though… I’d say it’s just a bit snug across the chest.”

  I raised my hand in a loose gesture across the upper chest plate, just below the collarbones, innocent in motion, but the implication lingered. My eyes held hers as I added, “Especially… here.” Dennes’s hand came up to the plate instinctively, her scowl more bewilderment than anger, as if she couldn’t quite decide whether I was teasing or appraising.

  I let the corner of my mouth lift. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you one that fits better. Mithril, maybe. Custom-tailored. I’ll take measurements later.”

  Seraphina’s soft laugh broke through the moment. “Careful, love,” she said, swirling her drink. “If you start taking measurements, I might have to supervise. For quality control, of course.”

  Dennes rolled her eyes, but I caught the faintest twitch at the edge of her mouth before she looked away. A few awkward coughs and barely stifled snorts echoed around the room. Then I turned back to the knight. Humor gone. Voice steady. “Anyway. Back to you. Like I said, it’s a thrill designing and building this kind of gear. You start noticing things. Little things.” I moved around him slowly, my boots quiet on the stone. The knight stood perfectly still, just as he should. But now, every subtle flaw stood out like a crack in tempered steel. “The craftsmanship is impressive,” I continued, eyes scanning over the pauldrons, the engraved Tower sigil on the chest, the faint inlays along the vambraces. “The etching, the relief work, is well executed.”

  I paused behind him. “But that’s what’s been bothering me.” The room went still. “Your armor.”

  The knight didn’t move. Not a flinch. But I could feel the focus shift every mage, every knight in the room now listening, watching.

  “It doesn’t fit,” I said, stepping slightly to the side. “Too tight across the shoulders restricts movement. The greaves? Uneven. Off by maybe half an inch, favoring the left side.”

  I moved to his front, slow and deliberate, meeting his eyes briefly. “Little things. But not the kind of mistakes a Tower-trained knight would, should never let slide.”

  Then I turned back toward the table, walking away from him as if I’d already dismissed the lie. “And one more thing.” I glanced over my shoulder, voice colder and more direct. “When you steal someone’s armor, there are a few things you should always do.” I let the moment. “First, get the right size.” A pause. “Second,” I turned fully toward him now, gazing hard. “Clean the blood off the inside.”

  The knight moved fast. Sword out, step forward, striking down toward my back. “You should’ve kept your weapon closer,” he snarled. “Death to the pretender!”

  I haven’t turned yet. “This sword?” I said calmly, reaching back with my hand.

  Emberline surged off the table like a summoned falcon, hilt-first into my palm. I caught it mid-turn, fluid as breath, and swung upward in a clean arc. Captain Dennes quickly stood and pulled her sword out of her sheath, only to see the traitor’s blade shattered in half.

  With the same motion, I rotated, shifted my weight, and drove Emberline straight through the plated chest like the armor wasn’t even there. The knight staggered, eyes wide with shock as the light began to leave them.

  I pulled the blade free, and he crumpled to the floor with a metallic thud. A flick of the wrist cleaned the steel. I turned, walked calmly back to my seat, and resheathed the katana without a word.

  [Skill Gained: Bonus XP Awarded for Defeating Higher-Level Opponent]

  [573 XP Sword Fighting Awarded]

  [DING]

  [Level Up – Sword Fighting – Level 11]

  204 XP Until Next Level

  [DING]

  [Level Up – Sword Fighting – Level 12]

  226 XP Until Next Level

  The notification blinked briefly in the corner of my vision—silent, clean, and almost surreal given the silence in the room.

  It faded just as I sat down again, the weight of Emberline resting across the table like nothing had happened. I’m level 12 in swordsmanship now. I wonder how high it goes? As I passed behind her, I gently placed a hand on Captain Dennes’s shoulder and leaned in. “It’s okay now.” She hadn’t moved.

  She’d been sitting right beside Emberline when it flew, felt the rush of air, the hum of power, and the impossible pull as the blade leapt from stillness to strike. Now that same weapon sat quiet again, as if it hadn’t just pierced a man through steel. She tilted slightly toward me at the sound of my voice. Her eyes met mine, and the tension in her jaw eased. My words had reached her and grounded her.

  She gave a slight nod and slowly sank back into her chair. But I saw it. Just barely. There was a slight tremor in her fingers as she slid her sword back into its scabbard. Not fear. Not weakness. Just the aftershock of being that close to something so precise, so sudden, and so final.

  I leaned a little closer and whispered, “I’ll answer your questions later. If you have any.” She didn’t respond, but her breathing began to steady. And just like that, the room exhaled again.

  Silence. Even the mages, who lived surrounded by arcane power, stared like they had seen something new. All except Seraphina, who sipped her tea with a calm, satisfied smile.

  Vael chuckled softly, finally breaking the silence. “I suspected it was a bound weapon,” he said, tone smooth. “I was correct.”

  He glanced at the blade, then back at me. “May I see it? A little closer?”

  I stood, keeping my movements deliberate. No threat, just cooperation. “Of course,” I said. I stepped around the table toward him. “It’s called a katana. A weapon from my home.”

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  I unsheathed Emberline with practiced ease. The familiar clank as it broke free from the scabbard rang out in the still room, followed by the low whisper of steel sliding against lacquered wood. The sound echoed, sharp and final. The blade caught the light, clean, dark, and curved with deadly elegance. Instantly, every mage in the room stiffened. Postures shifted. Hands twitched toward hidden wards or focuses. A ripple of tension ran through the air like static before a storm.

  Vael didn’t flinch. He raised a hand, palm out, voice steady but calm. “Stay calm,” he said, addressing his mages. “He’s not threatening anyone.”

  They obeyed, but reluctantly. I could feel their focus, locked on me like I’d turned into a coiled snake. Before I could give Vael a closer look, both doors burst open at the same time. Six armored knights stormed into the room, weapons ready, eyes scanning. The lead knight’s voice rang out: “We felt something. What happened?!”

  The tension that had just begun to settle snapped taut again. The mages looked to Vael. The knights scanned the room and locked onto me, blade in hand, a corpse still cooling on the floor nearby.

  Vael didn’t flinch. He turned slightly, his voice steady and authoritative. “Stand down. The situation is under control.” The mage pointed to the body on the floor and commanded, “Get someone to remove that.”

  One of the knights hesitated, eyes on the body. “Sir, there’s a…”

  Vael cut him off with a look. “Stand down.” The knights backed off slowly, lowering their weapons, but not their guard. I said nothing, just held the sword steady in front of Vael, angled so the light caught along its edge.

  “This is Emberline,” I said. “Forged it myself. I made it with both Orichalcum and Mithril. Upon its creation, it became bound to me.”

  Vael leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing as he examined the blade from across the table.

  “Extraordinary, you named it as well,” he murmured. “The orange and silver, how they spiral down the length like veins of living metal. I can see why it carries such strength.”

  He glanced up at me. “I’ve seen you forge with mithril and gold. Was this made using a similar process?”

  I returned Emberline to its scabbard in one smooth motion. The blade slid home with a soft click—quiet, clean, final. Then I turned and walked back to my seat. No theatrics. Just calm control.

  “In broad strokes, yes,” I said as I sat. “But these two metals, Orichalcum and Mithril, are vastly different from each other. Where mithril and gold share certain structural behaviors, Orichalcum doesn’t play by the same rules.”

  I rested a hand gently on the sheathed blade. “It took a much more delicate process. Less brute heat. More negotiation. During the hammering process, it had a different ring, or should I say song.”

  When I sat down, I gently placed the katana back on the table. Still and silent. But this time, I didn’t reach for the weapon. Under the table, my hand found Seraphina’s warm and steady. She curled her fingers around mine without hesitation, her grip firm, a quiet reassurance. Then, on my other side, I reached out to Captain Dennes. For a moment, there was nothing. Then her hand closed around mine, rougher, tense, but real. No words passed between us. None were needed. Just a silent thread of understanding, woven between the three of us, steel, loyalty, and something more profound.

  I could see on Mage Valen’s face that she wanted to speak. The others felt the same, but she broke first. “Bound objects were supposed to be a myth,” she said quietly, disbelief creeping into her voice.

  Vael chuckled, his voice smooth but with a hint of something more profound. “Yesterday, I would have agreed with you, Valen. But today we’re sitting at a table with what we once called a myth.” He gestured lightly toward Emberline. “Can you explain that?”

  Valen’s jaw tightened. “No, sir.”

  Behind us, the soft shuffle of boots and cloth signaled the stewards quietly removing the knight’s body. The faint scent of blood still lingered in the air, but they were already cleaning efficiently, practiced, almost as if this wasn’t the first time death had interrupted a mage’s tea.

  Another knight entered through the side door and moved straight to Vael, kneeling beside him. The two spoke in hushed tones, heads bent close. I didn’t need to hear it to know they were handling fallout.

  I turned to Dennes, keeping my voice low. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

  She didn’t look at me immediately, but after a moment, she gave a slight nod. Just once. Still holding my hand.

  On the other side, Seraphina leaned in, her eyes not on me, but on Dennes. “We need to help her,” she whispered. I nodded.

  “Mage Vael,” I began, my voice steady, “how much do you know about bound weapons?”

  Vael tilted his head. “Very, very little. We don’t have one in the capital to study, and it’s been decades, if not centuries, since anyone has even seen one. Why do you ask? So far, you, David, seem to know more than anyone else alive.”

  I gave a slight nod. “Well, there are two things I’ve discovered about them so far, beyond just creating one.”

  Arlen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh? And what would you want in return for that information?”

  “Not much, actually,” I said, smiling faintly. “Just a chance to browse your library. Specifically, for material from the last era.”

  He considered that a moment, then nodded. “Let’s say this, David: if you agree to share what you learn freely between us, then you, or anyone you delegate, will have full access to the Tower’s archives.”

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely. “That’s more than fair.”

  He waved a hand. “Call me Arlen. I tire of formalities.”

  He leaned forward, curiosity bright in his eyes. “So. What can you enlighten me on, exactly?”

  “Well,” I said, “you saw how the sword came to me.”

  Mage Valen, still standing off to the side, broke her silence. “Yes, and how did you do that?”

  I looked down at Emberline, then back at her. “It’s hard to explain. I feel it. The sword. Its presence is like an extension of myself. Just like I can feel my wife.” I raised my hand, still holding Seraphina’s. Her fingers were laced through mine, warm and steady. “When I need it,” I continued, “I hold out my hand and it comes to me.”

  A chuckle slipped out of me at the memory. It sounds ridiculous, I know. Like something out of a story. Or a movie. Seraphina arched a brow, amused. I could almost hear Luke Skywalker’s theme in the back of my mind.

  “But,” I added, “you did see it happen.”

  Arlen leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Is it always that violent? The shockwave we felt when the blade moved was extreme.”

  I paused.

  “That,” I admitted, “I don’t know. I never felt you feel when the sword came to me. This is only the second time I’ve summoned it.”

  Valen’s brow furrowed. “And the first?”

  “Yesterday,” I said, quieter now. “When the knights tried to kill me.” I felt Dennes shift beside me. I didn’t need to look to know her eyes were on me. “I used Emberline then,” I said. “I cut down three of them. They had armor. Magical protections. Didn’t matter. It went through all of it.” The room was silent.

  Valen paled visibly, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out. I didn’t blame her. I looked down briefly at the hand I still held in my lap. Dennes’.

  “I didn’t want to,” I said softly. “But they gave me no choice.”

  Arlen set his teacup down gently. “You mentioned a second thing?”

  I nodded. “Yes. The edge of the blade is impossibly sharp. It cuts through nearly anything.” I looked at Dennes, then Seraphina, and back to the table.

  “But it won’t cut me. I’ve tested it. And I believe, though I haven’t tested this fully, it won’t cut my wife either. Or anyone else I trust.” I gave Dennes’ hand the faintest squeeze as I said it. Another pause.

  I could tell Arlen was lost in thought, eyes faraway, fingers lightly tapping his teacup, reflecting on everything I’d just shared.

  “Arlen,” I said gently. He glanced over, pulled from his thoughts. “Since you’ve got some housecleaning to do,” I nodded toward the corner where stewards were still finishing up, cleaning blood, moving the body, scrubbing away what couldn’t be unseen. “Perhaps we can continue this later?”

  His mouth quirked into a knowing smile. “Yes. Yes, I believe that would be wise. I have questions. Many.”

  “As do I,” I said. “But I should stop by the Guild. Check on things. I’ve got projects waiting.” I gave both Seraphina and Captain Dennes’ hands a final squeeze, then gently let go and stood. Reached down to offer my hand to Seraphina, and she took it with a graceful ease, rising beside me with a smile.

  When I tried to offer the same courtesy to Dennes, I saw her already on her feet, adjusting her armor and checking her scabbard with a quick, practiced motion. Of course, she didn’t need the help.

  Arlen stepped out from around the table and made his way past the knights and stewards still working to contain the earlier chaos. He extended a hand.

  “Earl Robertson,” he said with a nod, “it’s been a pleasure. Aside from the distraction.”

  I grinned. “Likewise. And next time, I’d like the recipe for those pastries.”

  He chuckled. “You may have just secured your library access permanently.”

  As we turned toward the exit, Mage Valen stepped forward from the far side of the room, her expression more composed now, but still tinged with lingering curiosity.

  “If you’ll follow me, my lord,” she said, voice formal again. “I’ll escort you back to the entrance of the cathedral.”

  I nodded. “Lead the way.”

  The three of us stepped into the Guild Forges through the recently repaired doorway. The smell of oil, ash, and hot metal hit instantly, familiar and grounding.

  As we moved through, I weaved between the blacksmiths at their stations. Most were busy reorganizing their spaces, recovering from the chaos. I greeted each with a nod or a pat on the shoulder, inspecting their setups. Bent tools, scarred benches, a few cracked stones, but they were working. Healing. Slowly.

  My workspace was somewhat tidy. Tools had been quickly piled on the new workbench, probably a rushed job after a church knight’s shield smash knocked off the previous one. I ran my hand over the edge, remembering the impact.

  Seraphina slipped into the forge office, already flipping through the neglected stack of project orders. Allira Dennes stayed behind, standing stiffly beside another workbench, arms crossed but eyes alert. I unhooked Emberline from my belt and gently placed it on the table behind her.

  “So,” she said, her tone dry but slightly guarded, “what did you mean earlier about my armor not fitting?”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Exactly what I said.” She frowned.

  At that moment, Seraphina poked her head back out of the office, already grinning. “Uh-oh.”

  I held up a hand in a gesture of innocent intent. “May I?” I asked Dennes.

  She hesitated. “What for?”

  “To check the fit. Just raise your arms a bit.”

  Still unsure, she slowly complied. I stepped closer and carefully pressed a hand to the front of her chestplate, just above the sternum, then slid it lightly along the edge.

  “Your plate’s too small here,” I said. “Restricted across the top. Now, take a deep breath.”

  She inhaled.

  I kept my hands steady, fingers tracking the movement of the armor. “See? You can’t fully expand your chest. That’s a mobility issue. Restriction in combat.” I traced a line with my hand across the high arc of her breastplate, following the path where it pressed too tightly against her skin.

  Seraphina’s voice floated from behind me, amused and wicked. “You’re bad, David. Any excuse to touch a woman’s chest.” Allira flushed instantly, arms snapping back down, hands folding defensively in front of her.

  I laughed, raising both palms. “Strictly professional. You have a great figure. Seraphina, the Captain here does need better armor.”

  I returned to the workbench and picked up my sketchbook, flipping through a few blank pages. “I’ll draft a new set. Custom-fit. Mithril.”

  Allira blinked. “Wait, Mithril?”

  “Yes, Orichalcum may be too heavy,” I said without looking up. “If you’re staying with us, that’s the least I can offer. Maybe an alloy of mithril and orichalcum. Hmm.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Only Arcane Knights get mithril. Those sets are hand-downs from the previous knights. I’m not,” she hesitated, voice quieting, “I’m not worthy of that.”

  “Blah,” I said, waving one hand dismissively. “You are to us.”

  Seraphina moved closer to her, her expression softening as she studied the captain’s face, guarded, almost ashamed. “You’ve earned it,” Seraphina said softly. “And you’re not alone anymore.”

  Allira turned away, jaw clenched, but she didn’t argue.