Aren stumbled along beside Donnavan, the sand cold beneath his feet. He felt irritated at having his spell induced sleep interrupted by the triggering of the ward he had placed on the door when the man opened it forcefully.

  The oasis was filled with quiet murmurs of prayer, and the temple ahead glimmered as though it recognized the approach of dawn. Its dome caught the first hints of light long before the sun breached the desert edge. The polished metal of the roof, inlaid with amber crystals, shimmered in a pale opalescent hue. The dome glowed and intensified the morning rays of light, casting faint reflections across the streets.

  The officer wore easy-to-move white clothes with a light metal chestplate and blue-tinted pauldrons that matched the attached blue cloak. His long sword was decorated with a golden crest Aren did not recognize, a long coiled serpent with a single ruby embedded in its eye.

  “Why am I needed here?” Aren asked, trying to fix his bed hair without magic and having no success with it, as some of his raven locks decided that defying gravity was their new research subject. He managed to put on his scale armor and mantle disguised as a black shawl before the man lost patience with him. Aren wondered what it was about, since he did not think there was any emergency, as his wards had not detected anything approaching the village from outside.

  “If you are part of the Luminous One guard you need to be present during her recitations,” Donnavan said. “You may also want to see the radiant oath performed officially.”

  “That would have been nice to know yesterday. I could have woken myself up,” Aren said, but the man did not grace him with a response. Then he tilted his head. “I heard that the Luminous One is supposed to stay silent during prayer.”

  “The Luminous One who led the force that slew a dragon-class worm cannot very well stay silent anymore.”

  Donnavan did not seem to hold the same contempt for him that the rest of the exemplar’s warriors did, maintaining a mostly professional appearance. The man always wore a serious, detached expression on his face that accepted no nonsense. Whenever Aren saw him, the officer held a slight tension in his spine, his hand never far from his sword.

  As they neared the crowded bridge that led to the entrance of the temple, the officer turned to him. “Just stay silent and observe. In larger cities, you will need to join in the opening and closing prayers at least.”

  “I thought people would hate mages attending anyway,” Aren stated.

  “They will. No need to give them more targets than necessary,” Donnavan said. “This way we can say that the Luminous One and Master Exemplar want to proselytize you.”

  “...I don’t like the sound of that, but fine.”

  “Complaint noted. The rest of your party is in the back row,” Donnavan said and went through the empty space between believers.

  Aren shrugged and passed under the archway of the entrance. The temple was full to bursting, with only a small space around a floating replica of the sun kept alive by constant worship. Forty six warriors, with Louis at the helm, along with the four priests who followed them, knelt on both knees with their heads to the floor. A line of the exemplar’s warriors stood behind them.

  Aren looked around and found the towering figure of Bar’tik standing next to the back wall. He had to slowly find a way through what looked to be the whole village, which would not have surprised him if it were. People were first annoyed when he was squeezing through, but when they saw him, they let him pass unbothered.

  “Hey there,” Aren said to the four adventurers.

  “Good day, Ren,” Mar’tei greeted him with a smile that was slightly strained.

  Bar’tik nodded to him and a bit of melted snow dropped from his head, which the berserker ignored. When Aren looked him over, he saw that his earlobes were blue and bits of ice clung to his damp clothes.

  “I thought you wouldn’t be coming,” Lan interrupted his examination.

  “I thought I wouldn’t,” Aren responded.

  “The Exemplar told us to come yesterday,” Lan looked surprised. “I don’t think you should take your disobedience to this degree.”

  “She said we would be leaving after this, not that we had to attend,” Aren tilted his head.

  “I considered that obvious. We are serving an Exemplar, a religious figure, you know,” Lan explained with a little unease in his voice. “Mar’tei and Bar’tik came here shortly after us.”

  Aren looked at the duo of northerners. Bar’tik looked stoically ahead, while Mar’tei gave him an apologetic look. He stayed silent, noting that he would need to track their daily activities more carefully. A loud gong and the low sound of drums signaled the start of the ceremony.

  The Exemplar Marie entered the room, wearing her ceremonial vest, this time held by a golden belt that shone with rays of light that embraced her waist. Behind her, Crina followed, her back straight, her neckline adorned by an amulet of a golden eye. The people gasped once they saw her wearing it.

  “Why does the…?”

  “She wears…”

  “The holy eye?”

  Then all the holy warriors stomped in unison, raising their arms to the sky, and intoned

  “We greet the radiance of the One Sun! May its light illuminate this day, and every day, forevermore! Its fire within us, its warmth upon us, guiding all our deeds.”

  The people quickly joined the prayer, and Aren started a silent spell to record each word spoken. It felt like a waste to record it in his natural brain, which was limited by his natural memory, but his mind vault could only store spell formulas.

  Then he employed a more complex sorcery that took control of his physical body, and, to the startlement of another mage, he joined in the song, matching Wes’s rhythm and intonation perfectly.

  “Oh, Sun that warms our weary hearts

  The light that gives, the light that takes

  May your rays forever pierce the dark

  And your prophet be your guiding eyes”

  The song ended when Crina took a position next to the pulsating sun that lit the chamber. She did not stand in front of it but slightly to the right, accompanying its radiance, the amulet on her neck shining with golden light. Marie took a stance behind her, enveloping both of them in radiant shine with her aura.

  “Recitation of the Fourth Tale from the Third Scroll of Prophet-King Passiath,” Crina’s voice echoed through the chamber, carrying the quiet weight of the Exemplar’s presence behind her.

  “Lann of Pharlem, cousin to the Scarlet Governor, returned on Silent Night from his quest to slay the great dark sand burrower. The people awaited his arrival with joy, ready to greet the dawn with song and celebration, for many whispered that Lann’s deeds and valor might one day win him the seat of Governor.

  “But silence was broken by a cry of despair. Warriors found Lann beside the lifeless body of his wife, and near his feet, the body of his brother lay bare. Horror gripped the city.

  “The judge, first son of the Governor, declared Lann guilty of murder, sentencing him to seven days of darkness, after which he would hang, never to feel the sun’s warmth again.

  “Yet Paul, Lann’s aide and sworn brother, would not believe such sin of his master. He sought aid from the sunseer, but the temple doors remained closed. Driven by loyalty, he rode to the Sun’s Peak where Exemplar Falh dwelled. For six days and six nights, he traveled, thirst and exhaustion gnawing at him, until he reached the Exemplar, breathless and near death.

  “Paul told his tale. The Exemplar, moved by loyalty unbroken, healed him and rode forth with sunlight carrying them. On the seventh day, they arrived at the city. The judge, citing witnesses and laws, sought to bar them, but the Exemplar’s light silenced all dissent.”

  “In the darkness of the cell Lann lay, beaten, but unbroken. ‘It was not I who slew my wife or my brother,’ he proclaimed. ‘Their bodies lay there before my return. Yet my one sin remains, for I broke the Silent Night.’

  “The Exemplar’s gaze shone with the truth of his words. ‘Swear to serve the light of the Sun and the Prophet-King,’ he said. ‘Forsake loyalty to men’s jealousy, and your single sin shall be forgiven.’”

  “Lann swore the oath. Together they unearthed the first son’s jealousy, the corruption of the sunseers, and the dark rot within the city. Justice fell upon them. In three days, their bodies withered in darkness, crushed beneath the weight of their blackened souls.

  “Lann and Paul joined the Exemplar on his travels, becoming warriors of the Sun. In time, Lann rose to the seat of Exemplar, bringing peace, justice, and the warmth of the Sun to all the people of the Sands.”

  Then Crina uttered a prayer of thanks to the Sun, and the believers echoed her words. She stepped before the kneeling warriors, who did not lift their eyes.

  “Though your tale speaks not of a corrupt judge, it carries a sin born of grief. Through service to the Honored Exemplar, you shall find forgiveness. Honor her wisdom, for she is the voice of the Prophet-King.”

  She then turned to Marie, passing her the amulet. Aren saw them exchange a few silent words, and Crina stifled a chuckle. When the Exemplar donned the ceremonial adornment, she intoned, “Upon the vestige of authority granted to me by the Prophet-King, swear the Radiant Oath.”

  “By the Light of the One Sun, and by the radiance that sustains my life,” the warriors and priests echoed the words as one. With each syllable, a golden light enveloped them, a blinding luminescence that grew brighter and brighter. “I swear to follow and faithfully serve the Honored Exemplar and the Luminous One until they reach the black veil, upholding forever the laws of the Prophet-King and standing for the people of the sands. Should I betray this vow, let my soul be cast into darkness, and may the Sun’s warmth never again grace my skin.”

  Aren stepped forward involuntarily at the sight but held himself back. He felt a geas forming, a bind on the soul that would shatter their mind if ever broken. This oath bound them to the Exemplar for the rest of their travel and would prevent them from ever acting like they did when they abandoned their post. Aren wondered in that moment if his own involvement could still be counted as help.

  He mulled over what he saw until the end of the gathering, his two spells working in tandem despite his lack of attention. In the end, the slightly altered oath was not the worst, if still bad, but if it was the same as yesterday’s, he would call it slavery.

  When the ceremony ended and people shuffled outside, he heard many praising the kindness of the Luminous One and the hope she gave them. There was not a single voice of discontent throughout the process of packing their supplies, and soon the group, with the addition of the new warriors and priests, departed from the village.

  They even had a new sledge, if a less ornate one, with a tent set up for Crina and another for supplies and the cores. Aren had to settle for his air cushion, ignoring the looks that others gave him, as the village did not have enough sleds to sell him one. Altogether, their travel speed was fairly hasty, as each of the warriors came with their own skalith.

  Lan was the first to speak to him. “I didn’t expect you to know the songs and prayers.”

  Aren smirked. “With a bit of magic, anything is possible.”

  “Oh,” Lan let out.

  “Can you teach me?” Mar’tei asked.

  “Mnemonic wizardry for memorizing words like this requires four circles, but we should start with more basic ones first since your mind vault is at the second depth,” Aren said, to which the girl nodded happily.

  Then he considered her and added, “We should also consider your picking up new sorcerous resonance. Your mastery over the elemental one is already more than sufficient for you not to lose control during the assimilation period.”

  “Really? I was thinking of picking up mnemonic, but the correct materials with those aspects are hard to get and so expensive,” she complained, her enthusiasm waning as she spoke.

  “I can give you one,” Aren said.

  “I couldn’t accept that. That’s too much!” she protested. “I saw the prices. It’s enough to keep my village warm for the whole winter.”

  Aren smiled. “Consider it thanks to you.” He looked around at the other warriors. “For this… whole arrangement.”

  “I don’t know.” Mar’tei looked uncertain about receiving something so expensive.

  “Well, then I will give it to you if you promise to join the academy for at least a year,” Aren said.

  “How is that fair?” she asked, looking at him with a questioning expression.

  “We can always use more talented mages,” Aren explained. “I want to get rid of the hoarding of knowledge that, to this day, remains strong at the top level of the academy. Past archmages’ knowledge is still only available to those who achieve that position. Many keep their discoveries to themselves, hoping to one day gather enough to become an archmage, despite the benefits sharing them could bring. Some knowledge is dangerous and should be limited, but did you know that the mind vault was once kept secret, only available to the professors?

  “If you were to agree, then I would hope that once you join the academy, you, along with others, would help me break down those walls. Of course, that is only after you witness the academy and decide for yourself. I won’t force this on you.”

  Mar’tei watched him for a second, then she nodded. “I can promise to keep an open mind.”

  Aren smiled. “Can’t ask for more.”

  The rest of the day passed as he gave more lessons to Mar’tei, and once they set up their camp, he called the three warriors he had promised to train.

  “Okay, guys, I will use the best method I was taught to teach martial artists, warriors, and anyone who enjoys the physical method of combat,” Aren started. “You will be beaten and broken until you become stronger and win.”

  “Are we going to fight you?” Lan asked, his saifs ready.

  “No,” Aren said, and he willed the black gem attached to his shawl to release three humanoid golems made from white and black stones, each with a purple crystal embedded in it. “You will fight those.”

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  “Are we playing with dolls?” Bar’tik laughed.

  “Well, you will be the first to showcase them then,” Aren said.

  “Don’t complain if I break it,” the berserker smiled viciously.

  They made space, and one of the golems stood in front of the berserker, whose ancestral power was already shifting his form. It seemed that despite his mocking, the warrior took the fight seriously and started at full power as he charged from where he had been standing and moved next to the golem in a few nimble steps, paw sweeping down.

  The golem received the blow on its arm, its stance held firm as it sank slightly into the sand. Then the purple gem in its chest gleamed as its form shifted. Its bulk increased until it was two heads taller than the giant berserker, and its shape transformed from a humanoid look to one that resembled a giant bear.

  Bar’tik watched, stupefied, as a stone paw slammed into his ribs, throwing him into the air. He landed on his feet and clawed paws, regaining balance at the last second. He sneered, a streak of blood flowing from his mouth. Then he charged, his form trailing a blue afterglow as his ancestral power intensified.

  The stone bear responded in kind, a cloud of dust rising in its passage as massive bear feet slammed against the sand. When the two figures collided, a loud sound drew the attention of everyone in the camp. The sand shifted as the two figures grappled, the golem slowly overpowering the berserker, pushing him back.

  Bar’tik roared, slamming his tusk into the bear’s face. The golem’s face cracked but quickly mended, and it bit into his shoulder. The rock beast then lifted the warrior into the air and threw him. Before he even hit the ground, the stone figure charged and slammed into him. Bar’tik rolled across the sand, struggling to rise as the stone beast waited.

  “Isn’t that a bit too much?” Mar’tei asked, worried.

  “The golems are configured to not hurt them too much,” Aren answered. “It takes his healing capabilities into consideration. It is designed to push him in all aspects of his power after all. Look, there is no wound on his shoulder, even if the shoulder bone is probably cracked.”

  Aren had been right, the golem hadn’t formed teeth, simply grabbing the berserker in its mouth. Bar’tik finally rose, his fur and face coated in sand, and let out a roar. He charged, swinging his left arm at the stone bear.

  The golem blocked the attack with one paw and swung the other, but this time the berserker avoided the strike by tilting to the right and, with a powerful swing, slammed the bottom of the golem’s jaw upward. The stone beast staggered back. Bar’tik roared in pleasure and pressed the advantage, landing strike after strike as the bear crossed its arms in defense.

  The berserker twisted his hips and, with a powerful right hook, tilted the stone bear under the weight of the blow. He followed quickly with another jab to its nose, pushing it slightly backward, then struck its body, followed by multiple blows to the head.

  Swing after swing, the golem endured, letting the berserker tire himself. Finally, it stepped in, letting a strike glance off its shoulder before slamming its rocky head into Bar’tik’s. The headbutt connected with a powerful crack, making many of the watching warriors wince as the berserker was lifted by his shoulders and thrown into the distance once again.

  Then a shift happened, the berserker glow turned azure, deepening in intensity. His form shifted deeper into that of a beast as his eyes glowed in crimson rage. When he got up he charged with twice the speed he held before and slammed into the stone golem, enveloping it with both arms, pressing hard.

  A slight crack appeared on the stone bear’s surface, enlarging as the berserker roared. The golem seemed to smile in challenge, and its form shifted slightly, its arms bulking as it grabbed the berserker back and joined in the contest of raw power.

  The two figures pressed hard, then harder, the azure glow tinting the fur of the berserker. His roar nearly deafened the onlookers. Then the golem shifted once more, and suddenly the berserker’s voice was cut off as he collapsed, his body no longer able to endure the pressure, gasping for air despite being unconscious.

  “I don’t think I have seen him push his transformation this much since he fought the forest yeti,” Mar’tei commented, checking on her brother but not seeing any serious injuries, just total exhaustion and bruises.

  “Then it’s good training,” Wes commented. “I want next.”

  “Me too,” Lan said.

  “Good, we have three golems, so no need to wait,” Aren said. “Although for now, I want you to fight separately. You two need the least coordination training.”

  The brothers looked at each other, then nodded. They had not truly fought without one another outside of special circumstances. They took stances opposing one golem each and the transformation began.

  Lan’s golem arms thickened, its chest chiseled to resemble that of a great warrior. A warrior of black rock with white lines resembling tribal markings stood towering, six arms protruding from its sides, a purple crystal shining in its forehead. Two giant round shields of black stone and four long blunt white blades pointed at two saifs embraced in a golden glow.

  Lan hesitated momentarily, his instinct screaming to leave the task of contesting the giant warrior to his brother while he struck weak points. The golem could not hesitate and charged, one shield forward. Lan, finally aware of the threat, scrambled to dodge. A golden glow enveloped his feet and he pushed off the sand with practiced ease, a blur of yellow passing a finger width away from the shield and stopping only a dozen steps away from the rock warrior.

  Lan did not wait for the beast to turn around and moved with enough speed to be nothing more than a streak of light to mundane eyes. Stopping exactly behind the monster he nimbly stabbed at the back of its knee with his sword enveloped in golden glow.

  A loud clang echoed as the shining sword scraped along the edge of a black shield. The golem twisted just enough to deflect the blow, throwing Lan off balance as his arm was pulled forward. With a precise twist of its waist, it spun around and drove its sword into Lan’s hastily raised guard, where both of his swords crossed in defense.

  Lan jumped away hastily, trying to minimize the force of the blow, and was thrown into the distance, flying into a group of onlookers who caught him instinctively. Only his third stage constitution prevented his arms from breaking.

  “You need to face it head on,” Louis told Lan, setting him back on his feet. “You cannot surprise it.”

  Lan nodded thankfully to the man and looked at the being of magic. It was standing still, waiting for him to approach again. He snarled and pushed off the sand, his glow increasing by a magnitude, and his sword struck the point connecting the stone arm with the white blade. The purple gem glowed as it could not react quickly enough to the frontal charge. It swung two blades at Lan’s torso and the Ayru warrior ducked, striking at the same spot again. The healing of the cracks stopped and deepened as the stone gave under the force of the blow.

  While Lan’s blow lacked the follow-through strength of his brother, its impact was maximized by his exceptional speed, his blades striking the stone like a pickaxe. Still, the sympathetic algorithm driving the golem quickly adapted, keeping its wounded arms out of reach while pressing forward with others.

  A deadly dance began with no obvious favorite. Lan twisted to the left with a dancer’s agility as a shield slammed into the sand, and he let a white sword slide along his right blade as he drove the tip of his left saif into the wrist of the shield arm.

  Lan tried to stab at the same spot again but was forced to step back, ducking and twisting to the right as two blades passed over him. Then he leaped, narrowly avoiding a strike aimed at his legs, and landed on the edge of a shield that tried to block his escape. He heaved, striking the wrist with both swords at once. Finally, something gave, and the shield collapsed, but his victory was short-lived, as he was immediately forced to block strikes from four blades at the same time.

  The force sent him sliding and rolling on the sand as he tried to regain his footing. The golem, using the disengagement, reached for the shield and its arm reconnected with the tool. The rock golem looked back at its opponent, ready for another charge. Lan snarled and leapt at his adversary, beginning another round of combat.

  Wes watched calmly as the golem in front of him took shape. Its build was strong, but the instrument it held looked unusual. Two long tubes of black stone pressed against the ground and, with strong force, sucked the sand into stone compartments at its back. Then it aimed them at Wes, who continued watching with genuine interest.

  He scrambled to the side as a spinning, condensed ball of compacted and cemented sand shot straight at him with enough speed to surprise his trained instincts. The ball clipped him on the shoulder and he grunted in pain.

  His signature green glow enveloped him as the muscles in his shoulder healed and strengthened. Then he charged forward, even as more bullets flew at him. He tried to use his thick saber like a shield, but the golem quickly switched targets. A projectile slammed into his ankle, and he collapsed into the sand, the barrage pausing momentarily. The golem set its tubes on the ground to replenish its supply of projectiles.

  He grunted as he rose, doing the only thing he could think of. He stood still as bullets pounded his body, his muscles condensing more and more with each strike, each impact hurting less than the last. Then he began to move, step by step, closing the distance to the golem. His muscles adapted with every strike, but his bones still bore the weight of the force, sending sharp pain through him.

  Finally, when he reached the golem, it drew one tube to the sand and aimed the other at him. Before he could strike, a torrent of sand blasted him backward with overwhelming force, leaving him right where he had started.

  Wes let out a cry of rage as another volley of balls assaulted him, and he repeated his strategy. This time, when he was close, he quickly lunged for the golem, but instead of aiming its tube at him, it aimed at an angle toward the ground and, with the force of its own spray, pushed itself off the ground and flew out of his reach.

  He tried again, timing his approach with the golem’s need to resupply its sand. As he neared with the tubes down, he swung his blade at the golem’s head, but instead of drawing in the sand, it blasted outward, creating a cloud that obscured his vision. He felt his sword bounce off something hard. He swung again but struck nothing. He spun around looking desperately for his enemy, only to have a torrent of sand slam into his back.

  He got up and was ready to try again, only to realize the golem was no longer shooting at him. It stood frozen, reverting back to its inert state. Wes let out a breath as he looked at Aren.

  “Is something wrong?” the muscled warrior asked.

  Aren approached the golem and touched its gem, reading its memory. Then he turned to Wes with a wince. “Release your aura, please.”

  Wes did so and instantly collapsed, his bones screaming in pain as the adrenaline and life force flushed out of his system. “Owww…”

  “Do your bones often hurt after combat?” Aren asked.

  “Sometimes, usually when I push myself…” Wes huffed between labored breaths.

  “Did no one tell you that after the third stage you need to focus on your whole body when you are enhancing beyond natural capabilities?” Aren questioned.

  Lan walked over, huffing hard and massaging his wrists, his own golem stopping the fight as his supply of life energy ran out. “That was a good fight.”

  “I do…” Wes answered weakly.

  Aren walked over to him and diagnosed his body with a spell. Instantly he noticed a multitude of small fractures throughout his bones, along with many older fractures in various stages of healing. His bones were clearly stronger than those of an ordinary man, but the extraordinary muscle enhancement he was using was outpacing what his skeleton could handle. Even in the third stage of life enforcement, bone injuries took time to heal before returning to full strength.

  “I think we need a priest,” Aren said. “Your muscles are putting too much strain on your skeleton. There are minuscule fractures across every bone in your body.”

  “Really?” Wes asked surprised, regaining control of his breath and clenching his teeth as he sat up.

  “I don’t see any breaks, at least,” Aren said, calming the warrior. “But you will need to find a way to reinforce your bones and probably your organs as well. Your method of manipulating your muscles with pure life energy is exceptional. I have not seen such perfectly developed muscles on anyone below the fifth stage before. If you learn to strengthen your body so it can handle your full power, you will be able to contend with practitioners an entire stage above you.”

  “Here,” Lan offered his brother a shoulder. “Let’s ask a priest for help.”

  Wes took the offered help, and the two of them stumbled out of the group of warriors who watched the now inert golems with interest. Aren tried to follow behind to gather feedback on his training golems, as he still considered them prototypes, but was stopped by Louis.

  “That’s quite something,” he commented looking at the dark and white stone. “Could have used them in the fight yesterday.”

  “Ah, well, they were not ready until today,” Aren said, stumbling slightly. Technically, that was correct, as he had only put the finished spellwork into the crystals today. “I would also need to modify them for lethal force. Right now they are made for training only. It is a concept I have worked on for some time.”

  The warrior nodded. “I see. Do you use golems often?”

  “Well, I am still figuring out the perfect base I want to expand on in the future, but it is expensive,” Aren said truthfully. “I want to make something that will have the potential to be used against stronger beasts one day, and hopefully make a group of golems that can patrol and take down threats like yesterday without the need for pinnacle warriors or loss of life.”

  “That’s… possible?” the warrior asked. “I have heard of titanic sand and rock elementals, but none at a level that could threaten a dragon-class worm. I admit, though, that I do not know much about golems.”

  “Everything is possible even if it may take decades,” Aren answered. “But there are caveats to everything. The biggest is mana use. Archmage Pisco once made a golem that could contest those threats, but it required him to sit inside it and fuel it with mana or use an entire capital’s yearly budget of crystals as fuel. I want to make something more efficient. The prototypes here can be fueled by a mage who can support three-circle spells, yet they can still only go against fourth-stage warriors with any chance of victory. Fifth stage would cause it to run out of energy in a few exchanges.”

  “The gap between stages is staggering the higher you go, and while I have heard that mages do not follow exactly the same power structure, that still sounds impressive,” Louis said. “So they didn’t lie when they admitted you are the strongest of the group.”

  Aren stayed silent, cursing inwardly. He knew Wes, Lan, and Bar’tik had gotten into telling stories last night, but he hoped they had not created any holes or told more than they needed. It also seemed he had not fully thought through what dominating the warriors in front of a new audience would mean, too happy to test his construction against people who would not crush them instantly like his friends.

  “You are courting that girl in your party, right? Mar’tai?” Louis smiled knowingly.

  Aren worked his mouth, bewildered at the question, which Louis took as embarrassment and clapped him with bone crushing force on the back, causing him to stagger and massage his back.

  “Ha! Knew it!” Louis laughed. “They told me you approached her first before you joined, and considering you stayed with them, that was the only conclusion I could think of. Yet it seems you are not doing a good job at it. Is that your first time falling in love? I know how your book types can be. Don’t worry, I owe you, and even without that, supporting young love is the duty of the elders.”

  Aren, at a loss for words, simply stared into the sky as the older man led him away to one of the tents. Before they entered, Louis stopped and looked at him.

  “Can my boys train without your stone warriors?” he asked.

  “Huh, oh sure. Just once they stop responding, it means they have run out of mana,” Aren explained. “Please don’t attack them when that happens. They are fragile in that state and expensive to rebuild.”

  Louis repeated his words to the warriors loudly and led him inside the tent. He was sat down forcefully on a cushion and was handed a metal mug full of wine. The sound of battle reverberated outside as the warriors challenged themselves.

  “Do you know the courting traditions of her lands? I am ignorant of the far north even more than your country,” Louis asked, a merry smile on his face.

  “I… em…” Aren’s mind was still reeling.

  “I see. It must be an embarrassing topic to broach then,” Louis nodded understandingly. “But don’t worry. The warrior Bar’tik seems to think well of you. I will feel him out and ask questions when he recovers. He seemed to have fun fighting that golem of yours, so he should be in a good mood for it. For now, we will go over basics that should be common enough.”

  Aren’s eyes went blank as he listened to advice on which kinds of accessories made good gifts in the Sands and when was a good time to give them. What flowers to pick for the confession. Meanwhile the only thing he could think of was how to convince Marie to trust Louis with the full truth.

  It was late at night when he finally managed to get away from the man, citing the need for sleep for his measly mage body, and trudged to his tent. The man had made it very hard for Aren to get a word in. Fortunately, Bar’tik wanted to commune with his ancestor, although he promised to speak with Louis later. He fell on his mat and went to sleep, hoping that the misunderstanding would somehow clear itself up.

  He woke up early in order to talk with the exemplar about what he could do about Louis. The first rays of dawn were already falling on the camp, and as he neared the large tent in the center, he saw all the warriors praying together. He had not paid attention before, but it seemed to be a daily ritual, and at the top of the group he saw Marie and Crina leading the prayer.

  He waited at the edge of the gathering for the prayer to end. After a few minutes he heard soft footsteps approaching him, he turned his head and saw Mar’tei approaching him, her dark hair tied into her usual braids that danced lightly in the morning breeze.

  “Good day to you, Ren,” she greeted him.

  “Hi,” he said, his mind pulling in different directions as he stayed silent. He put an invisible field of silencing magic around them. “Sorry.”

  Mar’tei, feeling the magic, looked at him with a confused question in her eyes. “For what?”

  “Apparently I’m courting you and it became a rumor already,” Aren explained.

  “Ah, that…” the younger mage sighed. “I heard it yesterday from the village women. Bar’tik and his stupid mouth. Sorry about him.”

  “You… don’t seem troubled by it,” Aren said carefully.

  “Should I be? It’s not like it’s hurting my chances for any potential relationship in this land where people don’t want to touch mages with wooden sticks, and I don’t plan to settle down anytime soon,” she answered honestly. “As far as disguise plans, this is not the worst one, if unexpected.”

  “I see…” Aren let out as he thought on it and found that she was correct. “Should we continue this, then? I was going to speak to Marie to find a way out, but you may be right. Although I will die if I have to listen to Louis’s dating advice every night.”

  Mar’tei chuckled. “Good luck. I will keep my brother in check.”

  “Yes,” Aren laughed dryly, now wondering why this whole thing made him so nervous. “I will need it.”

  “Well, my dear drengr,” she said, stepping with an amused smile. “I will go pack up. I hope we can study magic later.”

  “Of course, we have a ton of materials to cover, my fair lady,” he said with a mock bow, guessing the meaning of the term she had used.

  The travel over the next few days turned into a routine for Aren, avoiding Louis, expending mana as the warriors tried to beat his magic golems, and teaching Mar’tei mnemonic and emotive enhancements so she would be able to maintain the focus necessary for five-circle elemental spells.

  He also saw Louis helping Wes and Lan with their life reinforcement and guiding them in their spars with the golems. At the same time, Bar’tik was able to summon the azure glow more quickly each time he sparred with the rocky beast.

  Finally, after five days of travel, they reached the city of Balthen. Enclosing it were giant ivory walls separating civilization from the desert, while the tall peaks of the buildings beyond rose above them, gleaming in the sun. A large palace of gold and scarlet stone reached toward the sky, a golden sun spinning atop it. Even from a distance, Aren could feel the powerful purifying energy that deterred any monster from approaching.