As Liron had expected, they failed to capture another mink as a ride. Angin had little experience in the wilderness, not knowing much of the wildlife and how to build a proper trap. The first few days, they had to use a boat Angin had constructed. An ugly thing it was. Besides being slow, it rocked back and forth, struggling to keep balance. The Pader didn't have much of a current, forcing them to paddle with branches they had sawed off.

  On the fourth day, though, they did catch a mink, and Angin took control over it. Only after debating for hours how to adapt their trap did they come up with a design that worked. It took dozens of fish to attract a mink, but their hard work did pay off. After enduring days on the boat, riding the beast felt like Harras smiling down upon them. Angin had adapted his controlling method, gaining better control over the mink without killing it too quickly.

  It endured half a day before it succumbed to its destroyed brain. On that evening, cowered in front of their campfire, Angin drowned Liron in an endless monologue on how he could perfect their approach if only he had more Nanium. He described in graphic detail how he wouldn’t need to stimulate the brain if he could send his needles through the mink’s body, taking control over its musculature and limbs. Liron’s open disgust didn’t hamper him once, going on about the anatomy of the mink, hypothesizing how to steer it like a puppet.

  As Angin had no gold left anymore, they had to warm themselves around a fire every night. Without their heated clothes, the nights would have been unbearable. The Alchemist explained that the heaters woven in their fabric were charged by some common Machina and didn’t require constant refreshment. They should last until they reach the outpost.

  The winter’s end helped them, too. The snow had begun to melt, revealing the pale green of the plant life as it was freed of the white. The lights of Lichtwald diminished in response, but they never ceased to accompany them. Angin called them bioluminescence. On his third attempt, Liron succeeded in pronouncing it without help.

  When not using his Nanium for controlling a mink, hunting, or anything else, Angin formed it into a case with a needle inside of it. He called it a compass, helping him to navigate by showing him cardinal points. They were used for maps and travels to find the right direction. One of the many things Angin knew how to craft. While his specialty was the human body, he had a vast arsenal of blueprints memorized to help him survive wherever he was.

  The visions continued, having replaced their dreams. Liron watched his counterpart depart from his family and Eisenrahm, travelling with Lance to the nearest training ground for the Society of the Dragon. While the Promised Dawn was an important player in the war, the Empire would do without him for the coming weeks and months. No Knight Dracon, no matter their skill, would be resistant to the mental physical tool of constant fighting. Their mind would shatter from the constant bloodshed.

  Liron had started to train with the other Hatchlings. There weren’t too many of them, all older and further in their journey. The average Hatchling needed at least five years before they became a full Draconist. There were exceptions like On Narrian Bell, the People’s Blade. She only took a single year, but Lance stressed that she was a prodigy like they hadn’t seen in decades. Many whispered that she had even greater potential than the Promised Dawn, On only being a Knight Dracon for two years.

  Thanks to him becoming a Hatchling, Liron’s family became the richest one in Eisenrahm overnight. His wage made sure they never would have to worry about money again. Before Liron had departed, they had talked about moving into a city. They would be accepted everywhere with open hands for having raised the next rider of Everon.

  While his parents couldn’t have been happier, Emma seemed conflicted. She knew how much this meant to him, but her opinion of the war hadn’t changed. Lance had explained to him what a Nexus was, but he wouldn’t be allowed to have one to communicate with his family. A Knight Dracon didn’t have to cut off his family, but they had to keep them at arm’s length to prove their devotion to the Empire and its cause. Letters were the only exception to this, keeping every exchange to a minimum. Visits too would become a rarity.

  No, the only way he could see his family regularly would be if they served on the battlefield as well. As Emma had said her goodbyes to him, she had promised to join him. She would use her position as Liron’s twin sister to gain the right to become a wizard. Knowing how much she disdained the war, her dedicating herself to joining it for his sake made Liron feel uneasy. He wanted her to live out her dreams of becoming a musician. Now there would be no hindrance to it. He knew he didn’t deserve this sacrifice, but Emma couldn’t be reasoned with.

  In this different life, she was ready to sacrifice her deepest wishes and convictions for him. And he repaid her in this one by abandoning her to the Inquisition. Liron wondered what would happen to her in these visions. The version of himself that had killed the Emperor looked like a broken man. Someone who had nothing left to lose. By this, he could guess that she had perished. What else would have happened to her? For some, this might have brought them some solace. Even in this different, seemingly better life, she would suffer thanks to him. His curse was out of his hand, his mere existence poisoning everybody around him.

  Angin’s vision offered less. He found it rather humorous that his prospective recruit was snatched away right under his nose. He stayed in Eisenrahm for a few days, helping with the injured from the hunt, and continued on with his path, heading for the next town. When the Empire had no orders from him, he had the freedom to travel as much as he wanted. Considering the little he had to do, a travelling Alchemist was the best position one could have in the Empire.

  “They are all cogs and nothing else,” Angin said. “No matter how high and mighty they are, they are replaceable and fulfill nothing but their role in the bigger play. And believe me, the executioner’s sword hangs over all their heads. Only the Empire is important, and nothing else.”

  Liron hadn’t gotten used to criticize the Empire like this. Old habits died hard, and he often jumped to its defense without noticing. “Isn’t that always true.”

  “What exactly?”

  “If you fuck up, you get beaten down. Shouldn’t every country and thing do it like this? What’s the Resistance doing with people that don’t do their part?”

  “Of course, they get punished, but that’s not what I mean. Every greater institution needs the capability to sever ties to any individual inside. The question is why they receive that treatment. The Empire is built on suspicion and betrayal. How many people have you seen taking blame for something they had nothing to do with so some fool above them can save their ass?”

  “Yeah, that happened often. But you also said that they are only doing their part and how that’s a bad thing. Aren’t we the same? You do your part to get me to the Resistance, and then I’ll have to do my part in… you know.”

  Angin made several attempts to counter, but he found no angle to counter Liron’s argument. He flashed him a smile. “You’ve got me there, Liron. Good, very good! But don’t say shit like that around the Wran or Elisabeth. They will kill you. No matter how much they invested in securing you. They will be cautious around you. Only after they are convinced you’re part of the course, will they loosen up.”

  Liron gulped. Elisabeth Ashburn and Bloody Wran. The heads of the Resistance. He had heard too many stories of them massacring dozens of faithful soldiers with no remorse. Wran in particular had a reputation of being more weapon than man, the knife wielded by the Usurpator.

  “How are they? Wran and Elisabeth, I mean?”

  “Brutal, efficient, and absolutely dedicated. Elisabeth is the hardest person I’ve ever met. Steel would yield before her, failing to meet her will. And Wran is… interesting. He can be decent, but the Empire doesn’t exaggerate when it comes to his… violent tendencies. Don’t make yourself a fool around either of them.”

  As they continued their journey, Liron finally had the chance to ask somebody about every little question he ever had about the Empire and how it worked. Angin welcomed his curiosity, encouraging him to ask away.

  “Why aren’t women allowed to serve in Sannara?” Liron asked. “Warpriests say it's a woman’s holy duty to stay behind to birth children. Is that true?”

  “That’s bollocks,” Angin replied. “This has nothing to do with a holy duty but simple logistics. The Empire requires a constant stream of young folk throwing themselves into the meat grinder. But more isn’t always better. They need the population to not collapse. They achieve this in two ways.

  “First, forbidding common women to enter the war. Don’t think there aren’t any women fighting in Sannara. I’ve seen my fair share of female Wizards and Warpriests die an equally pointless death like their male counterparts. No, the Empire isn't concerned with women not fighting. They only want the common women to stay behind and birth the next wave of witless fools. And Battlebliss would affect them as well as it does men. The purpose of it is to not strengthen an individual but to create perfect unison, bringing all to one level.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Second, they only allow a certain number of men to serve. Women can’t have families on their own. So, the Empire only allows a set amount of men from each family to serve. This way they always have enough men to have children, and they don’t have to pay too much to a family whose sons all have a death wish. They can’t risk anybody shooting past the station they have been born into. At least, for some. People like you, Liron, keep the delusion alive that perhaps they might be chosen for something greater. It’s an arrogant one but also a very human one. This last piece of hope keeps you going despite no saving in sight. And in the Empire, no one will save you.”

  As the days passed, they had to leave the Pader, the river flowing in the wrong direction. They tried to catch different animals as a ride, but their method seemed to work only on minks. And these beasts weren’t known to leave the close vicinity of rivers and seas. With the outpost not too far away anymore, they walked the rest.

  The first night, they struggled to hunt anything, having to eat the mink meat they carried around. Neither had the knowledge to prepare the meat to make it last longer. Both found out soon that even grilled, mink meat spoiled quite fast.

  But on the next day they succeeded in killing a young rabbit, lying in wait for an hour. The poor thing screamed as they descended upon it. But all empathy was forgotten with a proper meal in sight. Without the river, they had to drink and fill their waterskins in puddles of stale-tasting water.

  Besides talking, Angin spent the nights sewing new robes and a backpack for them out of the fur of the minks and the rabbit. Even with winter gone, days and especially nights were never truly warm. The heaters in Liron’s scarf and in Angin’s robe kept them from freezing, but nothing more.

  Angin had tried his best, but their robes were rather ugly things. They weren’t in the position to be picky, so they wore them over their torn clothes. Liron found himself a walking stick, and the Alchemist approved of it.

  “Very good eye, Liron,” he said. “That one would make a perfect staff.”

  “Th… thanks.”

  They had left Lichtwald as they took the Pader. The fastest way would have taken them on the open road, leading through a town or two. To keep their heads on their shoulders, they avoided it, choosing the longer but safer route, passing through several forests. Liron didn’t know their names, as he had never seen a map of the Nordland, less the area around Eisenrahm.

  Angin had, but he hadn’t bothered to memorize their names. He only needed the rough outline of their surroundings. Once, he had made a mistake, losing track of their path. He needed to sneak into a town nearby to figure out its name, using this as a reference point to orientate himself. He had had a map, but, like most of his equipment, it was lost in the chase.

  At first, Liron had wanted to keep track of days passing, but Angin assured him he didn’t need to. “Who gives a fuck?” he simply said.

  Following his advice, he didn’t think too much about how long it took, but he knew more than a week had passed as they finally reached the outpost. The Silverlight shone through the trees, and a cool wind accompanied them like a well-acquainted friend. His family had gnawed at his mind, but Liron succeeded in enjoying the moment.

  The air felt good, fresh, and undisturbed, unlike the smoke-ridden one in Eisenrahm. Birds had returned to Nordland, their chirping heralding in spring. Their song nestled itself to the moss’s lights, welcoming Liron and Angin with open arms. Here, the heart might not heal, but it could rest. Liron forgot all his burdens, taking in the vivid life with which nature had ousted the cold.

  He ran his hand over a mushroom’s head. They grew next to the biggest trees, competing with moss for the best positions. While they could be bitter rivals, larger mushrooms had matured in age, allowing moss to take root on them. Younger ones used their lights to disturb any intruder.

  “This would make a funny hat,” Liron said, pointing at an older mushroom.

  Angin turned towards him, disgusted. “Liron, are you mad? This would be an insult to the eye. Not even the most deranged Druid would put such a thing on their head. I mean, you would look like an utter fool. You would have to wear black and white to balance it out. And it would have to match its primitive appearance. This is madness, Liron, madness!”

  Angin suffered greatly under the lack of any self-grooming. He looked in the mirror before going to bed and when waking up. And each time he did, his reflection extinguished another spark in his eyes. He mourned what he used to look like, grieving deeply and very loudly. Liron hadn’t wanted to disturb the Alchemist more than he already had, but one thing had bothered him for some time now. And Angin had claimed to welcome all questions.

  “Why doesn’t your face grow a beard?” Liron asked.

  Liron hadn’t reached the age for one yet. Nothing but some lint. Hopefully, they would be the first grain jutting out of a field, promising a plentiful harvest. But Angin’s skin was as smooth as the day they had met.

  “Oh, that,” Angin said, gesturing at his face. “Alchemists that specialize in the human body are well sought after. Not just for our healing capabilities but also for bodily modifications.”

  “Modi… modifications?”

  “Yes. I have restructured my face in a way that it can't grow a beard. They are ugly things. Stitchy and unwieldy.”

  “Like your hair?”

  “Usually, it isn't like that!” Angin said, passionate. “And don’t remind me… please.”

  Liron grinned, relishing his victory. He didn’t get many against Angin. “You’ve said they’re popular. They make the richer folk pretty, right?”

  “Yes, good, Liron! Very good! You are correct. The upper echelon of the Empire is all about showing off. Only the truly blessed can afford the service of someone like me. It is to be expected to look a certain way. It is about to meet a standard, Liron. Every flaw in your appearance cannot be tolerated. Harras’s favor has to be something one can see with the naked eye alone.”

  “You sound like you agree."

  “Well… the Empire gets a few things right. Your appearance is not outside your control, Liron. We all deserve to be beautiful. The mirror should smile upon being allowed to carry our reflection. To be fair, though, it has caused most of the nobility to all look the same. It’s not easy to keep them apart. It’s worse with the Arist family. They all model their appearance based on their ancestors. They are all copies of each other. You would never think many of the paintings of the past Emperors and his family members were done centuries ago .”

  Liron rubbed his head, watching a cloud-eater fly high above them, casting a shadow. “But… if you’re only after looking good, wouldn’t it mean you would all look the same?”

  “How?”

  “It’s all about getting rid of flaws, right? But aren’t flaws what make you… you? So if you get rid of them and remake everything, you would look the same as everybody else that does this.”

  “This is… ridiculous. Liron, you… I…”

  Unlike before, when Liron caught Angin in a contradiction, the Alchemist didn’t enjoy it this time. He was fuming as if Liron had pissed on something sacred. Whatever was going on inside of him, he noticed it. He sighed, massaging his temples.

  “Apologies, Liron. We all have our weak spots, and you just hit mine.”

  “I… didn’t want to. We can…”

  “Yeah, let’s forget it.”

  Angin examined Liron with a somber eye, lacking his usual mad drive. “Liron, I think you should become an Alchemist.”

  Liron was taken aback. “An Alchemist? Aren’t I supposed to fight… and kill? Wouldn’t a Wizard or something like that be better?”

  “Pah,” Angin spat out, continuing to walk. “Wizards are nothing but madmen. Their importance and abilities are absolutely exaggerated.”

  “Really? But can’t an Archmage rip through dozens of soldiers with ease?”

  “I mean, yes… but an Alchemist can do so, too. You will have to fight, yes. The Resistance expects a great asset in you. One rivaling and perhaps surpassing Wran. But it is ludicrous to think only a wizard can achieve this. I’m one of the only combat Alchemists. The only reason Wizards reached the height they have is that they have enough members, each pushing their craft to new horizons.

  “Alchemists are behind because not enough of us are trying to best them. If you had seen the Great Machina of Casares you would know the potential of Alchemy. You would be proof that we can do better in that regard. That we don’t have to give combat to the bloody charlatans. And I’ve been looking for an apprentice for quite a while. ”

  “Thanks, but… couldn’t I be both, you know? Couldn’t I try to master Alchemy and Wizardry?”

  Wizardry was one of the most well-kept secrets of the Empire. Rumors had it, unlike the gifts of the Sacred Houses, a peasant like him could learn it. Its accessibility made it dangerous. The few times this was addressed by a representative, they had claimed to protect the Empire’s people, as the access to Magic would cause nothing but death and destruction.

  Angin grimaced, the thought tasting like a turd. “That is disgusting, Liron. Mixing Alchemy with something as low as Magic is… makes me sick. But, fortunately, this is impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, another of these little things we have no clear answer for. You aren’t the first to have the idea. But once you’ve chosen one, you can’t learn the other. If you’ve selected a conduit, you can’t transmute anymore, and the other way around. There are some… exceptions, but they aren’t worth it. They would require harsher modifications than even a Rebis would dare to.”

  “What’s a Rebis?”

  Angin giggled. He had a childish glee when he shared aspects of the world with Liron that would make him question everything. “Now that’s something. Rebis are one of the crowning experiments in Alchemy. A Magnum Opus. Only the most devoted Alchemists undergo this procedure. There isn’t a singular approach to it, but they all…”

  The Alchemist didn’t finish, as a tower head became visible ahead. Angin had explained that the outpost would be hidden in the overgrown ruin of an old settlement. They both shared a grin. They had finally reached their destination.

  But as they ran towards it, passing the remnants of a stone wall, they noticed a lone figure sitting in front of the tower, knitting. The man smiled, not looking up. “There you are,” the stranger said. “Not gonna lie, for a few days now, I thought I should have gone with Trisa.”