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Chapter Text

EXILE:

“A cruel act of being torn from one’s homeland, cast away from everything one loves. The forced exile, the banishment of the living... and of the dead.”

– Dictionary of Varsilia, Volume I

***

Amid the sound of flutes and drunken dancers, the young woman weaved her way between customers, tray in hand and swift steps.

“Oops!” she exclaimed, trying to dodge an old drunk who nearly made one of the goblets fall.

“Sorry, darling,” said the old man, who, after the light bump, let out a loud laugh, showing a pair of remaining teeth and great enthusiasm for his staggering dance.

It was a dirty and cramped tavern, but a tavern nonetheless. The atmosphere was festive. End of harvest. It was cold, but it was the only place where one could extend the night after the royal wedding.

The city of Górgons had its own regency and had declared independence from the Kingdom of Varsilia, being a peninsula of difficult access and lacking a port significant enough for the Varsilian Emperor to oppose the wedding that officially sealed the city’s exemption from Varsilian taxes.

“One drink on the house!” she shouted, raising her voice, surprising the man—the only one sitting alone, looking like someone lost in thought… or waiting for someone.

The man raised one eyebrow, glanced at the drink, then at the girl, watching her wink and walk away without missing the chance to follow her with his eyes.

He looked like someone who had left the last of youth behind just a few winters ago, wearing a gray cloak over black wolfskin leather garments.

Then, with a smooth and fluid motion, still watching the waitress, his hand hovered over the goblet. He discreetly looked around, making sure no one was watching as he enchanted the drink, while his other hand pulled the gray hood over his dark hair.

Finally, his gaze turned to the liquid, and the beer began to reveal within it the image of a road… a moving road, as if his vision came from a bird in flight. Then he saw a maiden collapsed along the trail and reached out his hand to turn her over and see her face.

Suddenly, the image in the beer darkened like smoke, revealing an old woman entering the tavern. At once, he stopped hovering his hand over the goblet, looked back while mumbling something, and slowly poured the beer onto the chair in front of him without anyone noticing. He grabbed his staff, which looked more like a shepherd’s branch, and tapped the chair twice. It darkened momentarily and looked dry.

The tension and seriousness left his face, and the man stood, pulling out the enchanted chair for the old woman.

He smiled as if he were someone else.

“Madame Brumella, please, have a seat. May I offer you something?”

The old woman looked at him, surprised and indignant at his words, then shouted:

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you? You arrogant boy!”

She looked around… her face showing a mixture of restraint and fury as she sat in the enchanted chair, watching the young man carefully.

“Don’t forget your manners, madame…”

“Manners! Manners!” she said, pointing a furious finger at him. “I should never have made any deal with you. I should have… have…”

Once again, she looked around, afraid to draw attention, though the tavern's customers had their heads in the clouds and likely wouldn’t have noticed even if she screamed or set the place on fire.

“It was your mother who stole the jewels, Brumella. And you know you wouldn't be alive if not for me.”

“They belonged to my family! Mama kept them since childhood. I kept them my entire life—and you show up and hand them to that little con-artist princess! I ought to kill you right here!”

She drew a dagger threateningly, pointing it at him.

“You became human again, didn’t you? Brumella…” he said compassionately. “Don’t let hatred consume you again. Look what it did to you. The jewels needed to be returned, Brumella.”

The old woman burst into sobs.

“But I’m old! Old and ugly! Look at me!!”

It was too touching for Genko, who listened with compassion. He didn’t know what to say.

He added:

“It’s not fair…”

“They were the late queen’s jewels. Your mother stole them when she was a child, and the curse passed on to you by inheritance. You knew they had to be returned to restore the throne to the princess. I know it’s sad to live your whole life as a toad, Brumella… the fungi, the snakes, the cold… the foot odor…”

“At least as a frog I had suitors! Got it? Frog, not toad, you ignorant wizard!” she snapped, making Genko frown in thought, glancing down, to the left, and to the right as he pondered and listened. “I… in frog form… had admirers. And now, as a human, I’m just an old hag! Who would want me now?”

Genko, the actor-wizard—or rather, the mime-wizard, as he was known in his youth during his travels with the Nova Anthur traveling circus—died of embarrassment upon hearing the poor woman’s words—or rather, the poor ex-toad, or frog, or whatever she had been. He covered his face for a moment so she wouldn’t notice he was trying not to laugh.

He recomposed himself and looked at her with sudden seriousness, glancing at the unusual necklace she wore.

“That necklace around your neck doesn’t belong to this world, and you know it. By my calculations, your late mother was the same age as the queen, and so you must be the same age as the Sea Princess—the young woman all the fishermen from Nova Anthur spotted at dawn and thought was a ghost. You used to remove that necklace whenever you went to the mainland, and put it back on when you returned to your lair. Am I right?”

The old woman swallowed hard. Her eyes widened, and she turned pale, speechless.

Genko continued:

“I can guess by your expression that the Legend of the Sea Princess has just been solved. You were the princess the fishermen saw every morning, but you returned to human form because you distanced yourself from the stolen treasure. And you regained your youth because you removed the necklace, afraid of losing it while swimming… am I right?”

Seeing that the woman was stunned by the wizard’s rational interpretation, he went on:

“That necklace belonged to the Exiled Kingdoms, Brumella—to ancient empires, once fallen, who sought refuge in these new lands. Because it is an ancient amulet filled with ancestral magic, any mortal who dares adorn themselves with something like that immediately suffers the consequences. And because you’ve been wearing it, you look old now… but you are not.”

Immediately, she took off the necklace and threw it on the table in horror. Her wrinkles vanished mysteriously… her once-white hair turned the color of wheat, and her entire body returned to youth, just as described by the fishermen who had long been accused of telling tales.

The now young Brumella, with full lips and no more than 25 years of age, looked at her arms and hands in disbelief, placing them on her face to confirm the softness and firmness of her skin.

Genko smiled, seeing her for the last time as she immediately got up without saying a word and ran off—probably in search of her reflection on the surface of a pond, to witness her youthful and beautiful face.

Chapter Text

EXILED KINGDOMS

His gaze turns to the amulet on the table, but the mage stares at it with fear.

Carefully, he stands up, gripping his staff firmly in his right hand. With his left hand, he gently tilts the table, letting the amulet lazily fall onto the enchanted chair.

As it lands on the seat, the amulet makes no sound at all, almost as if it doesn't exist in this world.

"Andoria..." he whispers in awe to the amulet.

Ignoring everything and everyone around him, he throws the table aside with his left hand and points his staff at the object.

Some of the people in the tavern stop dancing and turn to look at the scene. The sound of flutes vanishes.

"Get out of here!" he shouts at the citizens, never taking his eyes off his target.

The black chair begins to vibrate, producing a rising, indescribable sound—like the sound of giant trees being crushed by the hands of titans.

Soon, the sound of titanic footsteps echoes. That alone is enough to make everyone in the tavern scream in horror and flee like mad.

Genko finds himself alone with the object. He stands frozen, stunned and undecided.

He quickly realizes that the mission given by the Regent of Górgons is far too dangerous for an apprentice mage like him. And then it happens:

The necklace has an inner clasp that opens, releasing a cloud of smoke.

Before it can take any shape, a dark beam of death strikes Genko's chest, hurling him backwards several meters, crashing into everything in his path—tables, chairs... and just before hitting the horizontal logs of the tavern wall, he regains consciousness. He grabs his staff, which flies back to his hand, and surrounds himself with a kind of electric energy, smashing the tavern’s foundations with his body.

Trumpet sounds blare from the castle of Górgons, and dark clouds magically consume all the remaining logs and straw of what, moments ago, was a refuge for drunks and villagers of the night.

Now, all that remains is an open field with dust rising and dark tentacles emerging more and more from the object.

The creature that was forming kept growing in size and density.

Screams echo from the survivors, and more muffled cries come from the castle, but none are louder than those of the dark creature.

"You are sealed!" the mage screams madly after regaining his footing.

A deep, hoarse scream of hatred erupts from the being struggling to be reborn.

"The spirits of Andoria command you to return to Iniquo!" he declares firmly, pointing his staff.

Two points of golden light shine in the creature's eyes, firing twin beams at Genko.

He surrounds his staff with electric energy and, with a horizontal motion, shields himself, holding against the pressure of the beams pushing him backward, forcing him to take step after step to avoid falling.

"Return to Andoria!" he orders.

It is then that the beer previously spilled onto the chair where the amulet rests begins to restrain the expansion of the creature’s smoky body.

The dark, enchanted beer starts to grow, swallowing the entity amid firm elven incantations recited by Genko.

Another voice joins in, chanting the same spells in harmony with the mage, adding new commands in celestial tongues.

"Tremadam!" the creature bellows.

Genko doesn’t understand, but notices a luminous silhouette on the other side, behind his opponent, barely distinguishable amidst the smoke and darkness.

From the silhouette, more commands resonate in deep celestial tones, and the dark beer swallows the invader once and for all.

In front of Genko, only the fading glow of the light figure remains, and silence takes over the night. A second or two passes, and the mage hears trumpets and the galloping of horses approaching before collapsing from exhaustion.

Chapter Text

Exiled Kingdoms

The first light of dawn hovers over the moss-covered stone roof of the ancient temple, now serving as the imperial castle for the new nobility of Górgons Village.

It looked more like a manor under repairs. New beams and logs still lay waiting for the morning work to resume, while some men yawned as they climbed the steep path over piles of rocks.

Three men on horseback could also be seen, followed by an Arcane Knight in a fine red robe.

The four continued, slowing their gallop as they crossed the partially rusted gate, then climbed towards the entrance above.

Upon dismounting, they exchanged serious looks, their faces stained with mud, and moisture still clinging to their clothes. The Arcane Knight took the lead, crossing the hall, followed by the others amid cleaning workers who watched them with both respect and resilience.

A lilac curtain with knitted ornaments hung at the end, depicting three distorted semicircles arranged in a way that almost formed an unusual triangle.

The men knelt before it.

"May the Three bless us," they murmured, "... and guide us to the Tomb of Belez, Algrian, and Minefraim."

Suddenly, the curtain parted on its own, revealing a passage to a spacious inner garden.

Two of them tossed aside a small patch of fake grass, uncovering a well-camouflaged hatch. They descended the stairs without uttering another word.

"You finally arrived, Dorphis Greyrune," said the queen with an affected voice, mother of the newlywed princess. "I see you had trouble on the road."

The three soldiers knelt while the Arcane Knight, Greyrune, made a brief bow.

"Nothing to worry about, Your Majesty. And the boy? Is he still alive?"

"I don’t know how, but yes."

She turned and began walking down the narrow corridors with a gentle slope of pebble flooring, easy to slip on. She kept both hands on the walls for balance, and the four followed closely.

"Was it really that serious?"

"I received a letter from the Leader of the Church of the Three. I haven’t slept since."

"I can imagine what she wrote."

"I don’t refuse your protection, and the fact that Icemist is nearby has helped us greatly in the past, that I cannot deny," she continued, "but your leader has never helped us in matters of our independence. We achieved that thanks to a mere circus boy."

Dorphis Greyrune allowed himself a faint smile.

"That boy has talent, if I may say, Your Majesty. But he wastes it with those troupe friends and chasing the skirts of wandering pilgrims."

"Hmph!"

"If he truly trained, he might have a chance to become someone in life."

She halted her descent at his words and suddenly turned to him.

"Her Majesty, the Queen of Icemist, threatened me in that letter. She demands we accept no help from any mage not affiliated with Icemist. And I have no gold left to pay. I spent it all on Varsilia’s fine and my daughter’s wedding."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, but that was the agreement."

"So what will you do? Kill him?" she whispered.

"Those are the orders I received. However, we can negotiate if you wish. Your Majesty won’t have to pay any fine if he dies. But a friend told me something about that boy before I came here... and it intrigued me."

"What did he say?"

"It’s complicated... magic matters and, in large part, speculation. But if my friend is right, this seems to belong to the boy."

She began reading a letter Greyrune handed her under the light of his staff. The queen cracked a skeptical smile.

"An inheritance? Where did this come from?"

"It was in his pocket while he was unconscious."

"And how did you get it if he was here?"

"I was at the Soliga Strip when the battle began and saw darkness engulf the skies. I rushed here as fast as I could, arrived at the destroyed tavern with your knights, and quickly noticed this letter inside the amulet. I took it but told no one except a close friend. Only I, my friend, and you know of this letter."

"What amulet?"

"Something enchanted. Better you don’t know, for your own safety."

"Are you telling me that trickster is heir to some noble?"

"Perhaps even more than that. The deal I offer is that we take his inheritance in exchange for sparing his life. We take just enough to pay Icemist’s fine, and the rest... Your Majesty may do as you please."

"If there’s any inheritance at all..." she replied, skeptical, handing the letter back.

"I was thinking on my way here..."

"And?"

"We’d need someone to watch him, make sure Genko gets the inheritance, and then our man kills him."

"And you need all this to steal a trickster’s inheritance?"

"A trickster who defeated a shadow of the past and rendered many dangerous services behind Icemist’s back, skillfully, I might add."

"But Laertes always helped him."

"Laertes nearly died. The boy did everything else alone."

"Hmm... we could use Laertes!"

"No... they’re childhood friends. Tell me... have you already hanged that shameless vagabond?"

"Who? Adaon? There are many, but he’s the worst, no doubt."

"Exactly. Adaon is his name."

The queen hesitated, swallowing hard, and the mage noticed her discomfort.

"He’s still alive. Do you think he’s capable of obeying anyone? Letting that... that scoundrel go? We were lucky to catch him at all! That lot from the Seventh House is difficult to deal with."

"Don’t worry. I’ll mark him. It will be easy to find him next time."

Then, they resumed walking until they finally reached a prison dimly lit by narrow holes stretching up to the surface.

Chapter Text

Exiled Kingdoms – Chapter 4, A Mysterious Letter

It was already morning when Genko woke up in a room that had become familiar to him since the day he completed his first task for the queen as a boy, when she wanted to hide the facts from Icemist.

The jailer's quarters.

That's where he and Laertes were always taken whenever the mission load was too heavy and they happened to return alive.

"On your feet, quickly!" a girl whispered to Laertes and his friend.

"Get up, both of you!" shouted the healer at the door to alert them, noticing the adventurers were dragging their feet.

"I can't get up with my leg like this. For the love of The Three, Master Delfringes!" grumbled the actor to the healer as the girl supported him and handed him something like a cane.

Genko was still trying to recover from the nightmare he had about the Shadow he fought at the beginning of the previous night:

"Can you keep it down? Damn it!" he muttered, holding his temple to ease his headache as he struggled to sit up.

As soon as she saw Genko get up, the girl was so happy she forgot to support Laertes, who fell to the ground with a scream of pain—a fact she completely ignored:

"A morning drink for the greatest hero of Górgon’s Village!"

She could never hide her excitement whenever she had the chance to talk to the mime.

Laertes muttered something, while Genko drank something refreshing.

"On your feet, you irresponsible fools!" the healer grumbled from the door, raising his voice.

"Her Majesty, Queen Prestere!" said the jailer now, entering the cramped room.

Following him came only Queen Prestère and the Arcane Knight Dorphis Greyrune. One of the three guards signaled for the girl and the healer to leave and shut the door.

And there were Laertes and Genko in a clumsy attempt to bow. But their faces clearly showed doubt about who the man next to her was, except for his origin.

"We have a serious matter to discuss, my boys," said Her Majesty, almost with a tone of sorrow and regret, glancing at the man from Icemist.

She continued:

"You must have some idea who this man beside me is."

Laertes tried hard to hide his fear. Although he didn’t know the man, he noticed by his attire that the matter about to be discussed in that room involved "Icemist business"—and that term meant thunder and curses to him... nothing less than that.

As for Genko, on the other hand, whenever he saw a real mage in front of him, he was amazed, perplexed… practically drooling, with a thousand questions racing through his mind. Suddenly, his headache disappeared, and with almost youthful enthusiasm, he greeted the man with a gesture common among learned mages—something he had learned as a child from a book.

It was a complex bow for a mortal to replicate, in which the less wise would tilt their head, pretending they had drawn a circle with it—but only in thought.

Dorphis Greyrune was surprised by the accuracy of the greeting, and among mages, that meant a lot. It showed, at the very least, some education—or a perfect act.

While the queen remained silent, Dorphis Greyrune explained the situation to the two. Briefly and coldly, he explained the death sentence the young men would face immediately—unless Genko disappeared and Laertes remained silent, never telling anyone about their illegal services to Górgon’s Village... especially the latter.

"What do you mean by 'disappear'?" asked Genko.

The arcane mage pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it to the young mage-actor, adding:

"Read it aloud."

Upon opening the parchment, Genko was surprised by what he saw—not by the written words, but by the fact that there were interlines in ancient Elvish, little or not at all known even among the most experienced mages of Icemist.

These interlines were golden and very bright but did not illuminate his face in a way others could see the light.

"Read what?" he asked, swallowing hard, for he was so astonished by the golden instructions that he hadn't even looked at what was written in common ink.

Impatiently, the queen replied:

"The letter!"

Thinking that perhaps not even the mage had seen the golden part—or assuming he was pretending not to see it—Genko decided to read aloud:

     “New Garand, West Residence. 5th day of Blavadis, year 1667. To my dear grandson, Genko of Paganini. I regret to say that I lie still, worn by time and decay. I do not believe I’ll be able to accompany you or watch you grow. But even so, you may come to meet me if you wish, and without fear, for even in life you shall not perish in my presence. Not while that which I left behind for my legacy remains. What I leave you is all that I could gather through honest and honorable work. Know that gold is eternal, but life is scarce. And foolish is the mortal who loves gold more than people, for gold is immortal and laughs at our vain attachment—but people… ah! People are like us, and nothing is more valuable than love among equals… than a warm embrace and the sweetness of kind words. That is life’s greatest treasure, my dear grandson! The joy of company. Friendship. The kiss of a beloved woman. And the respect that is earned. Come and claim the inheritance I left you, but know that I shall only consider you wise the day you cast aside all the gold to embrace your own. With faith in you, from your grandfather, Tremadam of Paganini. I’ve finally found you… Now go quickly to New Garand and present yourself to the Magistrate of your time… possibly Steinz, and receive my legacy.”

Chapter Text

Genko and Laertes returned to their homes shortly after the conversation with the queen and the arcane knight.

"I can't believe you're going away forever," said Laertes, walking with difficulty, supported by a stick that served as a crutch, and with one hand on his friend's shoulder.

The queen had said that the young mage could say goodbye to his circus friends by claiming he had received a letter summoning him to the city of New Garand.

After saying goodbye to Cordelia, the actress, narrator, and flutist who loved Laertes more than anything in life, it was time for the hardest farewell — his girlfriend Hermia, an attractive seer and mime artist from the Corsair Islands.

She had begged him not to go, and if he must, demanded to go with him. Amid arguments and embraces, seeing that Genko insisted he couldn’t take her along without explaining why, she made one final demand: to read his future one last time in her green quartz crystal ball.

But this time, the images she saw were strangely clouded, revealing contradictory and simultaneous prosperity and death. Then she saw a red-haired girl more beautiful than herself in Genko's future, someone he would become deeply attached to. In jealousy, she stopped the vision and threatened him with a dagger if he ever betrayed her. Genko explained that it was impossible to betray a seer, especially the most captivating of all — a compliment she adored and which always made her feel secure.

He saw her as a controlling lover who liked to show him off as her possession to rivals on the streets, but he didn’t deny that the seer had her charms — frightening, but pleasant.

After saying goodbye to the other neighbors, the young adventurer set off along a trail marked by the wheels of wagons that occasionally made trips between cities, always escorted by soldiers due to dangers like wolves and bears. But this time, the adventurer was alone on the trail.

With only simple provisions like apples and warm clothes in a bag slung over his shoulder and his trusty staff in hand, he walked alone for three days along the safest route.

On the fourth day, much farther from New Anthur, the trail began to branch in strange ways, leading to confusing paths that could make any traveler get lost. He had never seen such changes before. Mysteriously, the main trail had become almost imperceptible.

Not even the best thieves, who set ambushes for foreign caravans, could have done such a subtle and elaborate job. However, such tricks only worked against ill-prepared caravans or unaware individuals — never with natives of New Anthur, Gorgons Village, and Lannegar, who knew the main trail well.

Between the fifth and sixth day in the southern Sagar Forest, he needed water to refill his canteen at a small pond near a known Varannari camp — the native people of this continent who lived there long before the Kingdoms were exiled and migrated centuries ago.

The Varannari were unusual green-skinned humans, less than barbarians. In fact, they were peaceful, unsophisticated, with an air of innocence and simplicity, living in harmony with Mother Nature.

Some tribes farther east were more dangerous and users of powerful spells, unlike those nearby.

They welcomed Genko warmly… they played games and had wolf-hunting challenges with him for two days.

On the seventh day, Genko got lost off the trail due to the natives' drink, feeling lighter and more relaxed than usual.

Alone, near sunset, he heard wolves and a man screaming.

He approached without much caution due to the drink and saw ahead eight wolves frantically trying to climb a tree to reach a frail man on the highest branch, yelling desperately for help.

Hiding his bag under a bush, he took a strange whistle from his pocket, crept along a narrow rocky corridor nearby, and blew it, causing the wolves to forget the man and come toward him.

The young mage knew this useful and unusual trick since childhood, as the corridor was too narrow for even two wolves to walk side by side without injuring themselves on sharp rocks.

It was a dead end for the adventurer. Either he would kill all eight wolves, or he would die there.

When the wolves saw the mage at the end of the corridor, they went after him. Genko smiled at their stupidity as they struggled for space, injuring each other on the rocks while trying to advance. When they were close enough, the young man climbed the rock behind him with ease, walked back over the top, and the wolves, irrational and furious, just growled and barked at him.

With his staff, he used a shock spell to break some rocks on his side. Then he jumped to the other side and did the same, trapping the wolves in the natural corridor.

It was an improvisation that worked without spilling a drop of blood.

From the top of the highest branch of the tallest tree, the frail man saw the whole scene in disbelief.

He clumsily climbed down, slipped, and fell.

"Ouch!" he cried in pain. "I think I broke my leg!"

Genko approached smiling when he saw the well-dressed man wasn’t made for adventuring. Though the same height as himself, he looked more like a messenger or luxury servant — and clearly, in Genko’s opinion, was exaggerating his injury.

"Nothing is broken," said Genko after examining the man’s leg. "It was just twisted."

"Are you sure? How am I going to get to Lannegar like this?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Adaon, scribe from Whitetower's town hall."

Now Genko understood the man’s uniform. It made sense. The mayor of Whitetower, a cold city northwest of New Anthur, was stingy and wouldn’t mind sending any servant on a suicide mission. But sending a defenseless scribe alone on such a treacherous path was too much.

The cozy and inviting town of Lannegar was less than 5 kilometers to the east, but the sun was setting. It would be dangerous to continue if Genko wanted to help the scribe.

"I’ll set up camp. Don’t worry."

The scribe thanked him and tried to help, always getting in the way.

In a safer spot, far from wolves and treacherous goblins, they lit a fire and began roasting wolves from the earlier trap.

"You know… even without seasoning, I’d say this meat is juicy," said the scribe after the first bite.

"Juicy?" Genko complained. "This meat is terrible."

"Hey! I’m the one who cooked it. Show some respect for my Whitetower culinary art!"

"Now I understand why the mayor sent you away. He couldn’t stand your cooking anymore," Genko teased with a smile.

"In case you didn’t know, a scribe doesn’t cook. He writes," he replied.

"Then your calligraphy must be excellent!"

"Keep laughing…"

"Tell me, Adaon. Why on earth would the mayor send a civilized man like you on such a dangerous mission?"

"The last three messengers died, so he sent me," he replied naturally, focused on his food.

And the duo kept chatting casually about various topics under a starry sky.

"You don’t serve The Three?" the scribe asked, surprised.

"They’re not my gods," he replied.

"You’re crazy! Only a Tolassian would talk like that! The Three have guided us forever! Since the Cataclysm in Andoria! Our ancestors would never have found these vast distant lands without the guidance of our gods, you should know."

"I’m not a Tolassian either," replied Genko.

"What are you then?"

"I’m a castaway, a refugee from the volcanic island of Silmér. Our parents sent us ahead in boats as children, but they didn’t survive the fury of the volcano."

From then on, Adaon listened more respectfully and compassionately to his companion’s orphaned childhood story, and how he managed on his own.

As strange as it may seem, they talked as if they had known each other forever, like a natural, relaxed old friendship.

The stars wandered, and both fell asleep…

In the morning, Genko woke up peacefully, saying something to Adaon.

But there was no Adaon.

Genko, surprised, checked his pockets… but there was nothing…

…almost in panic, he looked for his bag… but there was no bag…

Then went to get his trusted and inseparable staff… but there was no staff.

Chapter Text

Deprived of everything and tricked by some extremely articulate and cunning thief, Genko found himself surprised when he woke up and realized he had been made a fool.

He complained to himself in furious thoughts and kicked a stone.

"I’ll kill that bastard!" he shouted alone.

He put his hand on his head and tried to calm down.

"Calm down, Genko," he thought with his inner voice. "Maybe I’ve met someone smarter and more artistic than me. Maybe even Laertes wanted to hire him to replace me… think of the bright side."

Even as an apprentice mage, with fragmented knowledge of wisdom and magic, he had learned about Providence, a kind of supreme spiritual entity he followed in his faith, and imagined that this incident had probably been orchestrated by its supreme wisdom.

"From Chaos comes Order," Providence would whisper to him.

"The Unknown is Risk and Opportunity," his Goddess would add.

"Dive into the wisdom of uncertainty, my child," she added.

It was then that he calmed down.

He closed his eyes and began to plan what to do, but that lasted barely two seconds.

Going back to New Anthur or Gorgon’s Village to re-equip was out of the question.

All that was left was to head to the nearest town and try his luck in Lannegar. And so he went on.

Ahead of him, always to the East, he could already see busy passersby and a guard he recognized from previous visits… the famous Captain Whitewater, who loved to laugh at everyone and enjoyed it when his favorite circus troupe performed there annually.

The captain quickly recognized him and pointed him out to the nearby children. Genko was famous there for his fireworks.

But the young man would never bring up the mugging, as it would stain his reputation as a mage.

"Well, well… if it isn’t my favorite mage from Gorgon’s Village!" said Whitewater warmly, hugging Genko by the shoulders. "Come! It’s early, but I’ll buy you a drink!"

The captain signaled to one of the soldiers in the courtyard, ordering him to take over his post.

The pair headed straight to Lannegar’s tavern, exchanging friendly conversation. Genko already felt lighter, following the Chaos Theory of Providence… chaos as an ally… the madness that drives mages to do what no one else can.

"Two drinks!" said the man as he sat at the table with the young mage.

They served themselves and ate cheap delicacies usually served in the morning.

The tavern had only two other customers besides them. A very tall woman armed to the teeth with a gigantic sword and a dart-shooting crossbow hanging on her back. She was beautiful, even wearing heavy armor, and stood out among all the women Genko had ever met. Her conversation partner suddenly looked left and recognized Genko immediately:

"Genko!! My friend!"

"Hello, Rodney," he said, standing up and hugging the frail seed merchant.

The tall woman grew furious with Rodney’s sudden departure and watched from afar as her ex-conversation partner chatted at another table. She furrowed her brow and quickly emptied her mug, ordering another beer.

"My dear mage! Tell me! Where’s your staff? That fabulous weapon of yours?"

Genko tried to dodge the question and avoided mentioning the incident at all costs. He only said he was on a new spiritual journey and didn’t need weapons to defend himself anymore.

Without asking permission, Rodney also ordered a beer, which made the armored woman even angrier. She drummed her fingers on the table, going "hum-hum" to see if Rodney would realize he was rude for leaving her alone. But it was no use, and the three men continued their relaxed conversation.

"Genko… tell me…" Rodney said recklessly. "What do you think about escorting me to that camp on the North Bluesmit River? How much would you charge?"

Immediately, the woman got up from the table and grabbed Rodney by the collar, lifting him high off the ground:

"You scoundrel! You already made a deal with me! You won’t hire anyone else. You gave me your word as a man."

Rodney turned pale ands tammered:

"Calm down, Miss Grissenda… I was just bargaining."