by Shanon Chong
“Piper? You mean Piper Merases? The alchemist?” Rachel asked, our positions reversed. Now she stood dumbfounded, no longer walking at our casual pace.
“She’s well-known in the Capital?” I asked. I looked at Rachel, who hadn’t started moving again. “Rachel?”
“No.” She walked toward me, ignoring the lumpy road that tripped some students. “Not really…”
“How do you know about her?” I inquired as we rapidly approached the school gate. “I mean, you don’t know anyone from the school, right?”
“I mean, occasionally my mother tells me some stories from the Academy over the dinner table.”
“Your mother? What about your father?” I asked with trepidation, wondering about her enigmatic father’s profession, already knowing Rachel’s mother was a military figure of significance.
“I mean, his dealings don’t really interest me…” she grumbled.
“Well…should I lead you to Mr Defargo’s office?”
“Yes, please. This place is massive!” she exclaimed. This was an exaggeration founded on her low expectations. The school’s actual size was closer to one-third of the mountain in height, which wasn’t that tall.
Entering the corridor, I led her up the stairs to the second of three floors.
“I don’t think you can fight him if that’s your intention…” I said sarcastically, probing for a response as I led her through the horseshoe-shaped castle.
“Did you seriously think I wanted to fight him?” She laughed as we approached the office. “I’ve got some things from the Capital I’d like to discuss…” she continued mysteriously, not answering any of my impending questions.
I noticed that the door had already swung open and Mr Defargo was regarding me.
“Would you like to introduce her to me?” he asked kindly as he took a step to the side to let Rachel through.
“I came to introduce my betrothed to you.” I also took a step to the side, making a flourish with my arms. Rachel, slapping my arms down, went to introduce herself… Maybe she didn’t like that.
“I’m Rachel Indallias. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Great. Now that the two of you are acquainted, I’ll go talk to Piper.” I looked at the stairs I would have to overcome to reach her. “When do I meet you?”
“I’ll wait in the courtyard when I’m finished talking,” Rachel said quietly as she entered the office.
“Don’t worry, Theo. If anything happens, I’ll send her up,” Mr Defargo reassured me.
“Thank you, I guess.” I turned the corner and sprinted up the stairs to see the stone corridor being cleaned by Piper. She was no longer wearing the alchemy apron that usually never left her and her hair had been tied into a bun. The alchemy room’s stench had miraculously disappeared. Of course, Piper would have a method to alleviate the foul scent.
“Theo!” she exclaimed joyfully. She was wearing a stained blue blouse… Well, maybe it wasn’t blue; I couldn’t tell with the liquid splotches adorning its surface. The room had been tidied in the several hours since I had been there. “I didn’t want you to remember me as the eccentric alchemy teacher.”
“I wouldn’t have. I was half expecting the room to be in cinders.”
“Ah.” She sighed, knowing what I meant. “That accident, well, I had to clean up after that anyway…” She paused, thinking. “Besides, I’ve got a gift for you.” She awkwardly placed a wooden carrying case on the table.
“So, what’s in the box?”
“A poison that will kill you instantly,” she said deadpan, without laughter or giggling. Realising it was a joke. I decided to probe further.
“What’s actually inside?” I asked seriously, unclasping the metal lock on the front of the case.
“Well, there’s a little of everything. There’s a love potion, gender-change potion… There’s more I could say.” She looked through the index she had written on a rectangular wooden plate. The vials were plugged with finely carved pieces of cork. Strings were tied to the corks, with paper labels attached that were neatly marked with each potion’s effect and duration. I noticed other slips of paper attached to the velvet padding used to protect the vials, and I realised the potions within the case numbered within the twenties to thirties.
“Why do I need all of these?”
“Well…espionage, theft, and recon, really. The Academy will give you missions, though you won’t be doing those until the end of the year.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” I wondered what kind of child labour would be forced upon me.
“Have a safe trip.”
“Thank you.”
As I walked out of the room, she called after me, “I’ll miss you. Not in a weird way, though.”
“Don’t worry. I’m already betrothed,” I replied confidently.
I took my time down the stairs, and as I turned the corner, I noticed that Mr Defargo’s office door remained closed. Realising the conversation could be private, I decided to eavesdrop.
“The Mage of the Eternum Seal is looking for strong mages to work with him,” Rachel declared firmly. “Your distinctly by-the-book style will be easy to work with and will benefit in the battle against the Old God.”
Hearing their ominous whispers, I decided not to barge in.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I don’t want anything to do with the Old God anymore,” Mr Defargo said, melancholy staining his voice. “I lost too many of my friends to his last reincarnation…and I don’t want to lose any more.”
“Then all the more reason—”
“No, he keeps coming back no matter how many times he’s put down.”
“That’s a shame. I’ll go now. Theo is probably waiting,” Rachel said sadly, and I heard her footsteps moving towards the door. She was right; I was waiting for her.
Before the door opened, Mr Defargo said, “You should trust Theo more… He will be your biggest ally.”
Not knowing what to do, I remained crouched next to the door.
“On what basis?” Rachel replied, twisting the doorknob. Standing up, I watched the door open as she said, “Thanks for your help.”
“He has potential.”
“Well, he needs more time,” Rachel said with a sigh. She opened the door to find me standing there, and she stared me in the eye. “How much did you hear?”
“Well, I heard you mention an Old God,” I explained vaguely. Mr Defargo chuckled at the situation unfolding before him. Hoping to avoid as much conflict as possible, I said, “Well, you were concluding as I came to the door—”
“And you started listening? Where is your pride?” Rachel exclaimed, annoyed, “At least you didn’t lie; I’ll forgive you for that,” she added, generously lowering the verbal punishment she would give me later. “I’ll tell you the rest on the coach ride…”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me to the rendezvous point.
Chapter 2: Signs of Danger
Rain battered the tarp that protected us from the rare summer shower. The interior of the coach remained warm, with the runic heating hidden underneath the floorboards, and the carriage shook violently as the wheels continuously collided with the gravel path. The plains of grass and trees were golden. Within the sea of yellow, a solitary green tree stood out from the crowd. Being slapped by a wall of water, I closed the sliding glass window and turned to look at Rachel, who started chuckling quietly.
“What are you laughing at?” I asked, my hair completely draped across the front of my face like a closed curtain.
“Sorry.” She took a breath before continuing. “Your expression was just priceless…the way your eyes became like coin slots on food dispensers in the Capital.”
“You’ll have to show me that,” I replied, genuinely wondering what my eyes had looked like. Brushing my hair from my face, I decided to approach the precarious topic that I had accidentally overheard. Well, I’d be lying if I said it was an accident, and Rachel would not forgive me in the slightest if I tried to jus
tify myself. “So…what were you going to tell me about this Old God?”
“Wait,” she said, still laughing at my expression. “I’m thinking of a good way to explain.”
Realising the lack of information I had about the situation I had eavesdropped on; I guessed the scarcity of context was what complicated the explanation of the topic. Still on the path to the Academy, generally described as the embodiment of prestige, I remained bored by the lack of conversation. Hoping to speed up the process, I decided against impatiently asking. However, I was also in desperate need of a towelette.
“Rachel—”
“Shush!” she exclaimed. “Let me think!”
She’d automatically shut me down without listening to a single second of my sentence. Realising that I could just look through her bag and wait for her to notice, I decided that the fact we were betrothed was a good enough excuse if she decided to protest. Reaching over to her bag, I was denied access to anything within an arm-length radius of her. Considering the size of the carriage, this meant I couldn’t touch anything. Deciding I’d had enough of being soaking wet, I decided to just tell her what I needed.
“I need a towel!” I yelled.
She looked at me, annoyed, until she realised I was in desperate need of an item to dry myself. She handed me a small handkerchief and a larger piece of fluffy cloth. Both had small hearts scattered randomly across them. The items, made with care, had embroidered names on them, and the carefully stitched hearts spoke to their value. “Are you sure I should use these?”
“I’ll just wash them…” she said dismissively, staring intently at my use of her expensive items.
Deciding my health was of utmost importance, I began drying my face and neck. Once my hair and body were no longer soaked, I decided to draw a few runes on her cloths to make them dry. Rachel was no longer paying attention to what I was doing, and I decided to give them a thorough clean with my expansive rune knowledge. I looked out the window as I traced the runes to avoid meeting Rachel’s eyes. The water magic I used dampened the plush cushioned chairs. Continuing with my task, I dried the cloths runicly as I left them within my hands. There were nice and warm as I kept them while looking for a good opportunity to hand them back.
“Let’s begin with some Arcanan history!” she exclaimed, finalising her path for the clearest explanation of the subject at hand.
“Okay…” I muttered quietly. “I’m no history expert, but I know the basics.” I hoped to make Rachel’s job easier.
“Right… I’ll still confirm the background information, though. You know about the Plains of Anarchy, right?”
“When countries and nations didn’t exist?” I replied uncertainly. “I mean, I don’t know much about that time period…”
“Well, I’ll explain quickly… During that period, several families of prominence rose to power and created their own nations. Arcana, during its infancy, didn’t originally have the council making decisions.”
“It was a monarchy?” I inquired, remembering the history lessons Mr Defargo had drilled into our heads. “The Arcan family, right?” I searched through my mind, remembering the names and key figures in the family.
“Well, our system changed after our figure of interest began to show signs of his evil,” Rachel said ominously, “The council currently is comprised of trusted masters of magic. However, at that time, mages were scarce.”
“Then what was the council made up of?” I asked incredulously. “I mean, was the council even relevant back then?”
“It wasn’t,” Rachel replied bluntly. “The council was made of small-time village mages who, if they were brought to present times, would be considered around tier-four mages.”
“Nothing impressive.” I remembered the towel and handkerchief and tossed them into Rachel’s hands. “Nice heart pattern, by the way.”
She looked at me coldly as though urging me not to bring it up again.
“Back on topic. During these times, the royal family had three heirs. Of course, it was tradition to have three. Three was a sacred number, so when the royal family had their fourth child, they tossed him to the wild.”
“Let me guess. He’s the Old God?”
“Y-you aren’t wrong…” Rachel stuttered, correcting herself. “The Old God was also one of the mages on the council at the time… That Old God was a harmless necromancer.”
“Necromancy is a forbidden magic?” I confirmed, memorising our villain’s story.
“So is blood magic, but one of our most prominent mages flaunts it,” Rachel retorted. “Well, back then, nothing had been set in stone in terms of regulations,” she explained, walking through the topic slowly and giving me the necessary background to explain the being who, from what I had heard from Mr Defargo, was a freak of nature.
“Okay, let me revise my guess,” I said. “Our little abandoned royal kid gets picked up by the current Old God, inherits his magic and title, and decides to topple the monarchy?”
“Precisely,” Rachel affirmed. “Well, back then, magic was still considered heresy under anti-revolutionist policies created to keep the monarchy in power.”
“So, when our new Old God rose…” I began, trailing off.
“Oppression against mages increased, with the royal blood deciding that magic would be forbidden unless given permission by royal order,” Rachel finished. “Our abandoned child, Hzakor Arcan, was shunned as a fake contender for the throne.”
“What happened next?” I asked, no longer having the insight into the historical failures of our previous political system.
“Well, our problem child decided Arcana was no longer worth his time… Along with several seasoned mages, Hzakor went north to colonise the nations, creating warmongers fit to destroy the magic-less armies of Arcana.” Rachel dropped the heap of information on me, continuing only after she seemed confident I was following. “Nations like the Assimilators and the Runic Sealing Nation rose because of Hzakor’s influence.”
“Are you saying that one of our closest allies is the creation of our nation’s enemy?” I asked. “I mean, there’s still political tension in the north, though.”
“Well, Hzakor was not recognised as noble, nor were his intentions purely revenge… The moment he hit the streets, a carnal desire for blood rose within him,” Rachel muttered, “Before getting sentenced to death later in his life, a string of murders occurred around him as a child... I guess he was influenced by his surroundings.”
“Hzakor must’ve been evil, born evil…” I said, and I waited for Rachel’s reply.
“I can’t deny that. However, there must’ve been something else…” Rachel contemplated the idea. Finally, she seemed to give up, and she looked at me, ready to continue our exploration.
“Should we continue on topic?” I asked, allowing her to reset and return her focus to the story.
“Well, with reports from spies within Hzakor’s nation…Arcana decided to create a trap to lure Hzakor back into the Capital, where they could eliminate him.”
“So, a path to the throne?” I suggested, allowing Rachel to acknowledge my input.
A few seconds passed before she responded.
“Yeah…yeah, that’s exactly what they did.” Pausing, she took a breath and then a drink of water from her flask, looking out the window to the still-raining outside world. Losing her focus, she stared outside for a second before turning back to say, “The plan didn’t work out, obviously… The blood of the royal family and some elite guards was spilled within the royal chambers that day.”
“He killed them?” I asked dubiously, wondering how a single young man could kill more than twenty people without any retaliation.
“Hzakor’s killings led to the creation of the Council of Mages,” Rachel said. “After that, he lived on the run until a group of mercenaries went after the reward on his head and presented him, bound, to the Council.”
“So, what’s next?” I inquired, noticing Hzakor’s story had ended far too early to explain
why Rachel would need assistance to combat the villain.
“Well, the real problem is how they couldn’t kill him,” Rachel replied. “Unfortunately, at the time, there was no one with nearly enough magic strength to pierce his god-like defences.”
“Then he escaped or something. What else could have happened.”
“Nope!” Rachel declared with a smug expression. “He was dismembered and had his soul split into each severed body part.”
Her expression told me what she was thinking…So, you don’t know everything. Feeling a little annoyed, I decided to respond peacefully, wanting to know what happened next rather than spiting Rachel.
“Anyway, how is he still relevant after being sealed away for so long?” I asked. “I mean, I heard about his reincarnations—”
“Exactly!” Rachel interjected, cutting me off. “Last time, the Arcanan Capital was left in ashes.” Rachel grabbed her bag and pulled out one of two pillows. “Let’s have some rest.” I turned to her, reeling from her sudden change in pace. She reached up to tug the string that controlled the runic light source. Our surroundings had already lost the illumination of the sun and the open plains were flooded with an inky-black emptiness.
I realised how reliant I had been on the comfortable bed that had supported me through the nights and occasional days. The chair we lay on had leather cushioning; however, the lack of actual material inside the cushion left my back aching as I lay staring up at the carriage’s wooden ceiling. The rain continued to lightly tap the roof of the coach, and the slow rocking of the carriage shook me to sleep.
White hair, red eyes, and olive skin. The figure who owned these traits stood before me, unmoving, with several figures behind him. He seemingly led the group of thug-like silhouette. A playful smile rose on his face, and a tingle shot down my spine as he wrote in old runes on a table before him. The outdated runic system made me reminisce about what Rachel had told me about the Old God. However, the body that drew the runes had the appearance of a young man, his apparent age indistinguishable from my own.
