Alesia battered away excess motes of silvery Conjuration.

The two of them were back in the Teleportation Chamber, their bodies safely deposited via magical translocation.

The brightly lit vista outside indicated that it was just past noon.

Noon? Gwen baulked. They had left in the morning! Had it taken only half a day for all that to transpire? She felt as though they had spent much longer in the Grot.

“It’s the next day.” Alesia noted Gwen’s confusion. She surveyed the walls for a timepiece. “Friday to be exact.”

“How were we gone for that long?” Gwen was incredulous.

“Time functions strangely if you keep going in and out of pocket dimensions," Alesia explained. "Sometimes, its the dimension itself, sometimes, it's your body that’s confused. The only things you can trust are timepieces attuned to the planar rotations.”

Gwen surveyed Alesia' apartment, her eyes wandered across the panes, landing at a device on the coffee table.

“Alesia, may I use your Message Device?”

“Yue and Elvia?”

“Yue and Elvia,” Gwen concurred.

“Tell them I took you into the Municipal Police Bureau and we had to record statements and vouch for your innocence. It got late, so you slept over. Also, don't forget about your Geas.”

“Thanks, Alesia, I won't.”

Gwen plodded toward the soft cushions of the armchair by the window. Her Message rang a few times; then a hurried voice picked up.

“Hello? Who's this? You better not be selling something.”

Classic Yue. Gwen felt better already.

“It’s me, Gwen.”

“Oh! Gwennie! How are you doing? Where are you? When are you coming back? Who you with? Is it a boy? What did you eat for dinner?”

Gwen endured Yue's barrage until she was out of breath.

“I am with Instructor Alesia,” Gwen explained, then delivered the white lie she and Alesia had concocted. Though it was for her friends' own good, she nonetheless felt an acidic tingle in her gut.

“What’s Alesia’s apartment like?” Yue's interest in Alesia was insatiable.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! There's a view overlooking the harbour; I can see almost all of Bradfield Park. She’s got the penthouse suite…”

“How’s Elvia doing?”

“She right here.” Yue giggled. “She’s been fighting me for the phone!”

“You devil! Put her on!” Gwen reprimanded her companion.

“Gwennie! I Missed you so much already! Yue is a meanie!”

Evee's voice soothed her nerves like a choir of angels. Gwen wasn't sure why she felt so attached to Elvia. All she knew was that whenever she held the healer in her arms, she felt at peace. Was it a maternal thing? She wondered, either way, the golden girl had Gwen's oxytocins in a tizzy whenever she was around.

“Hey Evee, hows the dorm? Anything changed after all that fiasco?”

“Much quieter. We're still in mourning," the healer summarised. "We’re going to have a ceremony next week to commemorate the Instructors. Are you going to be back by then?”

“I sure hope so,” Gwen replied. She sighed deeply - poor Mr Boone and the others, dying for no discernable reason.

For a while, the girls continued to speak at length about life’s philosophical nothings, filling up the time.

'Thump!'

Gwen watched in wonder as a semi-transparent Mage Hand opened the fridge, retrieved a stubby from the interior, then floated itself across kitchen island to rest in Alesia's hand. Gwen had been on the phone for so long that Alesia had taken a shower and gotten changed.

Alesia slugged the tall-neck.

"Fresh. Smooth. Real. It's all here. A beer so good, it's bad.” Her sister-in-craft winked at Gwen, kicking up her robes to reveal a bit of leg.

“Pufft!” Still holding the Message Device, Gwen broke into a burst of snorting laughter.

“Gwen?” Elvia’s voice asked quizzically. “Hello, what's happening?”

Alesia was already beside herself, spilling a bit of beer here and there.

“I’ll talk to you later, Evee, I should be back tomorrow night.”

“Alright, Gwennie! Laters!”

Gwen replaced the Message Device.

“Help yourself.” Alesia motioned to the fridge before realising a problem with her generosity. “Belay that order soldier. You’re not old enough!”

It was strange how often she’d forgotten that Gwen was half her age. Sometimes, when watching the girl train, Alesia felt a queer acknowledgement that Gwen was much older, someone more akin to a contemporary, someone her equal.

“I would like a drink though,” Gwen enquired politely. "May I?"

See? That’s just it! Who the hell says that? Alesia's scalp tingled. She had never known herself to casually say things like, ‘may I.’ When she was a teenage girl, she was all bluster and fury. Even now, social niceties were a chore.

Alesia summoned another beer.

Gwen popped the top.

"Cheers, Alesia. Thanks for everything."

The two knocked glasses, then Alesia watched with wonder as Gwen slugged the stout in one long pull.

Gwen took the liberty of Alesia's generosity to dig up a snack from her fridge, a seamless unit built into her modern kitchen. What greeted Gwen, however, were row upon rows of beer, stacked in their paper packaging. Besides the beer, were another two to three stacks of what looked to be instant curry. On the door were jugs of questionable milk and slabs of chocolate. Maybe there's fruit? Gwen pondered as her eyes continued to scan, hoping against hope. At the fridge's extremity, she discovered a dying pear, forlorn and forgotten from neglect. Below, the freezer section fared no better, possessing only frozen dinners.

Gwen slowly closed the door, then looked toward her athletically inclined sister-in-craft.

Fire Mages, she realised, possessed incredible metabolism.

After a hot cuppa, Gwen retired to the guest bathroom and took a shower, borrowing from Alesia’s wardrobe. She was lucky that they wore similar sizes, though Alesia's proportion was far more generous than her younger counterpart.

Once the water was running, Gwen took advantage of the shower zen to recollect her thoughts. She was now an apprentice-in-secret to a powerful Magister, possessing the potential to be a young Magus. What Gwen needed was training, experience, and time. Her Master had told her that to advance her Spellcraft; she needed to venture into the green zone for battle-practice. It was impossible for an Acolyte to mature inside a greenhouse, not even if she got to see him fortnightly for tuition.

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Other than her training, she had another pressing problem - she was poor, and she couldn't count on monetary support from either of her parents. Even if Gwen sold all of her mother’s old gifts, those Miu Miu dresses, shoes, the branded handbags and her shiny bric-a-brac, what about her long-term expenses?

Spellcraft training involved invariable expenses. Raw LDMs, or HDMs if she could afford it, provided supplementary mana for extended practice sessions. Live-combat in the Wildlands, Questing, and Dungeoneering likewise required Magic Items to reduce the risk of permanent injury. Potions, utility items, translocation devices, protective items, portable shelters, the list goes on.

She had hoped, a little spoilt and immaturely, that the Magister would gift her a ring with the look of a benevolent but doting father. Unfortunately, Henry simply smiled and said that she should learn to fend for herself, as Alesia and Gunther had done in their youth.

After a far too long shower, Gwen emerged to find Alesia asleep on the couch. She fetched a blanket and placed it gingerly over her companion's chest. From delivering Gwen from her Uncle’s party to saving her from the cave to rescuing her yet again from indefinite detention, it was hard to believe that they had been acquainted only a few months ago.

Gwen threw on her borrowed clothes, sliding into a loosely hanging shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts Alesia had outgrown. Just as she dried out her hair, a 'thump!' came from the mezzanine, followed by a distinctly penetrating voice.

“Hello? Alesia? Gwen? Are you decent? Can I come in?”

Alesia woke with a start from the couch, towels falling aside to expose herself, rubbing her eyes and groggily swearing.

“Oh shit, Gunther's here, how long was I out?”

Gwen rushed over to make modest Alesia’s robe.

“About an hour,” she replied.

“I need to get changed.” Alesia forced herself up and unsteadily made for the bedroom.

“Hello…?” Gunther's voice came from below.

Gwen closed the bedroom door.

“Alesia’s getting changed,” she said it loud enough so that both of them could hear.

“Alright, I am coming in,” Gunther replied, and a hidden panel in the corridor opened to reveal the teleportation room. He met Gwen as she came down the stairs, barefooted and flustered by Alesia's carelessness.

“Gwen.” Gunther nodded, his face lighting up radiantly.

“Hi, Gunther.” Gwen felt a little intimidated, her teenage hormones thrashing against her better judgement. Gunther walked past her, the scent of cologne just tingling her nose, and made for the kitchen.

“Hungry?” he asked, moving his hand over the empty counter, materialising an assortment of meat and vegetables. "Dinner will be ready soon."

Jesus Christ, he cooks too. Gwen felt a disquietening attraction beginning to engender. She watched in salivating wonder as Gunther Shultz rolled up his sleeve to reveal finely haired arms taut like steel cables. The Magus roamed here and there, familiar with every compartment, even hidden cupboards where appliances and other utensils had been stowed.

“So, you probably should have heard, I am your big brother-in craft,” Gunther intoned in that radio host voice of his. “Gunther von Shultz. I am pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, Gwen Song. Please call me Gwen.”

The two shook, Gunther's mitt-like hand swallowing Gwen's pale stalks.

“Gunther, are umm… a Lord?” Gwen had to ask out of curiosity. To her limited knowledge, 'von' was a nobiliary particle indicating an aristocratic patrilineality.

“It’s just a title, think nothing of it. Everyone else in the male line either left or died, so I was stuck with it.” Gunther was a little embarrassed just how thrilled Gwen appeared.

“Where's your family come from, Gunther?”

“Oh, the family is everywhere now, but we had our estates in old Bavaria, near Breitenegg. The original demesne was converted into a freehold by my father, who tried to get away from all the politics by renouncing, the title fell to me when I was studying under Master Kilroy.”

“I know some of those words,” Gwen confessed.

Gunther's laughter was hearty and full of good cheer.

"How about yourself?"

"Refugees, I suppose." Gwen lowered her eyes. "My father's a Eurasian refugee from China; my maternal family were Dutch-Indonesian colonials."

"I am sorry to hear they had to flee their homes," Gunther offered his sympathies. "As Paladin, I feel shameful that the Demi-human threat remains significant even now."

The two continued to exchange personal details, with Gwen telling Gunther about some of the happenings in her family, and how Alesia had saved her from potentially tearing that handsy young man limb from limb.

“She did good,” Gunther agreed. “Allie's like a sister to me. I’ve known her since she was your age, fourteen? Thirteen? Those were troubled times!”

“Do tell! What was she like?” Gwen perked up, itching to hear some prequel adventures of Alesia, Scarlet Sorceress.

As he spoke, Gunther’s hands were a blur, cutting, slicing, dressing and moving across the various ingredients like a magician. The Wild Land pheasant became a basted wonder in the oven, dribbling juices over heirloom vegetables. A collection of lamb ribs turned into caramelised lollypops. Rich, fragrant soup simmered in the pressure cooker, and it appeared creme brûlée was for dessert. The whole process, the precision of it, was akin to an artisanal cooking show.

“Well, here’s a story that’s highly relevant,” Gunther spoke as he sauteed, turning the memory over in his mind.

“Do you know why those Guards in Tower were so antagonistic and disrespectful to Alesia? She’s a Magus after all, and a very famous one at that.”

“I was wondering about that.”

“Indeed,” Gunther continued, his hands moving pots and stirring sauces. “So this was about, oh, five or so years ago? Alesia and her team were out on recon up the North Coast when they ran into some rogue traders who were selling all manners of stuff to the folks who live out in the Wildlands. Of course, selling stuff to Rogue Mages and Demi-humans outside the city is a problematic grey area, so Alesia had the lot of them rounded up, customers included.”

“They offered her bribes, she refused, then went through their inventory. What she found was pretty disturbing. You ever heard of organ trading?”

“… Seriously?” Gwen had, of course, heard about these things in her old world, though such atrocities were often removed from the reality of her first world nation.

“It's not too uncommon, I suppose. Anyway, rogue traders collect particular organs from humans who are deceased, the brain, the heart, the liver. These are considered delicacies for some of the more predatory Demi-human tribes out there, Merman, Merfolk, Riven-folk, Lizardmen, and so on.”

“They EAT people?” Gwen's stomach knotted, unaware of the hypocrisy of her hyperbolic reaction. She had been eating Wildland things for half a year now, and a good steak-n-kidney pie was the love of her life. Her favourite food, SPAM, was itself constituted of mystery Wildland meat.

“Well of course. Every living thing has to eat. It just so happens that some of the things they eat happen to be people. It’s wild out there, Gwen, the law of nature and all that. It's not as though the Demi-humans don't eat one another. A band of Hobs isn't going to say no to a village of Lizardmen."

"I see." Gwen gagged.

“Anyway, back to the Organ Traders. We call the Demi-humans monsters, but they're pretty smart at the end of the day: Hobs, Lizardmen, Mermen, its entirely possible for them to speak human, or teach us how to speak their language. WIth communication, comes trade. Mostly, they're after our artifice. You see, the Demi-humans don't have a unified currency for trading. We do. Within the Tower, the Grey Faction is the one who does most of the trading with the Demi-humans, going as far as to operate the Grey-Market. At any rate, the less civilised tribes dig up babbles, mana Cores, precious metals, bits and pieces of larger creatures, and trade it for food and crystals with these rogue traders.”

“Which brings us to the topic of food." Gunther tossed some salad into a bowl and gave the spinner a whirl, draining the water. “Though they are elementals, advanced Demi-humans are physiologically similar to humans, with the same craving for flesh. And as it happens, we're the only race that produces Crystal Currency and food on an industrial scale.”

“If that's the case, can't we pressure them with trade sanctions?”

“We tried that already.” Gunther grimaced. Gwen noted that the man was handling all the boiling pots and sizzling pan with his bare hands. “The lower beings who are happy to eat chicken and pork, are too dumb to trade with, they have nothing we want, and they don't understand treaties. The higher monsters like the Lamassu, the Evil-Eyes, or Demihumans like the Sylvan races; tend to think we’re inferior, dog-like creatures.”

“They think 'we' are the fauna?!" Gwen baulked, thinking of how the Europeans had treated the Indigenous folk of Australia.

“It's only fair." Gunther salted the roast some more. "Think about it; we kill these creatures for their mana stones - they kill us for our heart, brain and liver, all those parts of your body necessary for the generation and control of mana.”

“And... that's what Alesia found?”

Gwen was glad that Gunther was currently making the soup, and not carving up a roast or something.

“Indeed. So you can imagine what was going through Allie's head when she saw boxes of the stuff marked with price tags. She’s somewhat tempestuous, as you know.

“I can imagine…” Gwen gulped.

“So after frying most of the traders, she started questioning them, and that’s when she found out the traders were working for a Magister at the Tower, and that the cadavers were an exchange program under the Grey Market.”

Gwen connected the dots.
Alesia.
The Tower.
Magister Walken.
The Grey Faction, the Grey Market.

“Magister… Walken?”

“Well done,” Gunther appraised her understanding, his pearly teeth glinting. “What do you think she did?”

The answer to Gunther's question took no stretch of the imagination.

“I would say that Alesia teleported to the Tower and started shouting that he was a traitor,” Gwen hazarded a guess.

Gunther chuckled.

“Oh if only that were all she did! Master Kilroy would still be in possession of his Ioun Stone collection!”

"What did she do?"

“Allie went straight to the Magister’s office to confront him. When he denied everything to her face, she set his office on fire, burnt down his entire library. You should have seen the uproar, a Magus, burning down the office of one of the Ten Magisters of the Tower! Guards were trying to restrain her, though she insisted it was all an accident.”

“Oh my God!” Gwen's lips formed a perfect O.

“When the whole fiasco finally died down, Master Henry had to punish Alesia. She was stripped of her military rank, dishonourably discharged, which was why that guard kept calling her Major. Afterwards, Master Henry gave Walken a whole collection of Ioun Stones, five thousand HDMs for a full set of twelve."

“Because of this, the Grey Faction loathes her. Pretty much anyone who's anyone had a mate injured during the incident. In fact, to this day, she has yet to apologise to Walken.”

“That’s… that’s amazing…” Gwen took a sip of water. Even Gunther's second-hand story was enough to get her blood boiling.

“He was and is still guilty!” A cry of anger came from the second floor.

Alesia emerged.
Gwen's jaw hit the floor.

Her sister-in-craft was wearing make-up, actual makeup, smokey eyes and ruby lips and elongated lashes, the full Bristle-back Hog. She furthermore wore a scarlet cocktail dress that revealed her back, teasing the contours of her white thighs.

Oh my God. Gwen gasped. She’s into him. She is TOTALLY into him.

But what had Gunther said earlier? She was sure she had heard it.

“She’s like a sister to me…”

Gwen glanced at Alesia, then at Gunther, who was kept cooking with an unaffected expression, happily complementing Alesia on her beauty with the tone of someone speaking to their neighbour about the dog.

Ugh, Gwen's heart dropped, Alesia. You poor, poor girl.


Gunther plated their dinner.

Soup: French Onion, cut with crisped Gruyere, croutons.
Entree: Bone-in Wildland Lamb lollypops in coarse mint conserve.
Salad: Mixed Heirloom Cherry Tomatoes in sweetened apple vinaigrette.
Main: Whole Roasted Wind Pheasant, red wine reduction in own jus.
Dessert: Creme Brûlée

Gwen reached out with a trembling fork, resisting the ingrained desire to take a picture. Each dish was more flavoursome than the next, bringing her taste buds to climax.

She took a sip of the wine.
Paired Wine! Simply orgasmic.

“Magister Walken was fuming.” Gunther swallowed before speaking, smiling serenely at Alesia every time she fluttered her lashes. “Of course, I reminded him that had he taken you in, Master would have returned the favour by having him waste away for a week in Sufina's grot.”

“These Factional conflicts are getting out of hand,” Alesia sighed. “So much infighting, nothing ever gets done.”

Gwen watched as Alesia sidled closer to Gunther. The man remained perfectly stoic and unmoved by her bold intentions.

“Gunther, can you tell me about these Factions?” Gwen interrupted the two. The awkward atmosphere was beginning to become unbearable.

“What do you what to know?” Gunther asked.

“Everything?” Gwen confessed candidly. “I've never even been to a Tower until yesterday.”

“Seriously?” Gunther glanced at Alesia, who nodded solemnly. His Master, the ever-critical Henry Kilroy, asked a girl to be his Apprentice within hours of meeting her for the first time? Even with Alesia vouching for the girl, it seemed excessive. “The old man must have taken a liking to you.”

“More than you know, Gunther, Gwen clarified the Ordo Arcanum Credo in one line. Did Master tell you?”

“Noblesse Oblige, the binding of our superior advantage to larger generosity... the abuse of Greatness is when remorse is disjointed from power.” Gunther inspected Gwen with renewed interest. "I can certainly see why you've impressed Master."

“Yep,” Alesia gestured rather rudely with her fork. “I am afraid you’re no longer the favourite, Gunther.”

“I am happy for Gwen if that's the case,” Gunther replied, his face betraying nothing. “But surely, Allie, you were always his favourite.”

“Not that it matters now.” Alesia grinned cheekily. “Gwen's the pet favourite now.”

Gunther grinned, reminding Gwen of the men on Van Heusen posters.

“Anyway, to answer your earlier question,” he continued to Gwen. “There are three main factions. Our Master upholds the Middle-Path faction, prioritising the preservation of human cities, including the NoMs, and maintaining diplomatic relations with Demi-human Races. Of the Ten Magisters of Oceania, four count themselves among our number.”

“The second faction is the Purist Faction, also known as the Militant Faction. Their three Magisters hold ranks within the Frontier Militia. They believe that we should engage in a continuous purge of Magical Creatures and Demihumans, expanding human influence into the Wildlands.”

“Is that even possible?” Gwen blurted incredulously. After all, she had seen first hand what her Mythic 'kin' was capable of doing. What would be the cost of subjugating such a creature?

“With the Tower's support, it's possible." Gwen wanted to ask what that meant, but the man had moved on. “The last faction are the ones who believe that the answer lies in joining those outside the city; that we shouldn't be living in isolated enclaves. There are three Magisters in this faction too. Magister Walken is one of them.”

“Nasty little man,” Alesia snidely remarked. “With nasty little connections to the Wildland Demihumans.”

“Now, now, Allie,” Gunther motioned disarmingly. “You know as well as I do that the Grey Market materials provided by those Magisters make up for half of all the Magic items in the Tower.”

Gwen perked up.

“Alesia! What if someone from the Tower crafted Edgar's Teleportation Ring? Does the Tower have records of who made what?”

Gunther shook his head.

“Records are confidentially maintained by Enchanters. Anyone worth their salt in espionage would not leave a trail as large as that. A Contingency Ring with Long Range Teleport costs anywhere between five-thousand to fifty-thousand HDMs! Moreover, there are no Enchanters capable of using the Asscher inscription technique outside of Europe.”

“Oh.” Gwen sipped her water sadly. So much for that avenue of enquiry.

At the dinner's conclusion, Gunther brought out the creme brûlée.

Alesia continued to entice her senior, though the Paladin of Sydney Tower kept his demeanour as cool as a cucumber.

“Anyway,” Gunther reached into his pocket, brought out a small ring box, then pushed it toward the middle of the table.

“…” Alesia's eyes grew wide.

“This is …”

The Scarlet Sorceress swallowed, her throat bobbing back and forth.

“… for Gwen,” Gunther coughed.

“...” Alesia clicked her tongue.

“What is it?” Though curiosity was gnawing on her like a cat, Gwen refrained from touching the box.

“Master Henry believes it may be best if Alesia or I could come to your aid in the event of life-threatening danger. Knowing your connection to that Mythic, it's best we have insurance."

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“Oh?”

Gunther opened the box to reveal an intricate piece of magical jewellery, a silver band with an obsidian stone.

"A Teleportation Beacon," Gunther explained. "If you’re in trouble, activate it with a command sigil, and it’ll send out an SOS to the three of us. We can then use Teleport or Teleportation Circle to come to you.”

The two of them watched as Gwen obediently equipped the ring, the small silver band shifting to conform to the circumference of her left ring finger.

“Say.” Gwen felt that she should confirm her suspicion. “Does this ring provide a live update on my whereabouts?”

“That it does,” Gunther intoned casually. “That's the point. Alesia and I both have one.”

They raised their hands, dispelling their ring's inbuilt glamour. Sure enough, Gunther and Alesia also possessed subtle silver-bands. Alesia sported an impressive ruby, while Gunther owned a bright, square-cut diamond.

What rock! Gwen marvelled. That bloody thing's rocking four to five carats.

“Don’t take it off. Ever.” Gunther's tone inferred his advice was less a suggestion and more so a command.

“Of course,” Gwen smiled back, putting on some of that disarming teenage charms the youthful possessed in abundance.

“So, what’s going to happen from here on out?” Gwen asked. After the accumulated events of the Serpent, the Void element, and the Second Awakening, was it even possible for her to go back to school? What about her mandatory military service?

“You go back to school,” Gunther surprised her by guessing her train of thought. “Master believes that your body needs time to grow into the possession of two Schools of Magic, not to mention your Void Element. After you graduate high school, we'll arrange something for your military service. You'll be under my direct supervision. There, you should be relatively safe.”

“Relatively?” Gwen noted Gunther's conditional participle.

“Safe from the Factions, the Houses, Clans and Sects, that sort of thing,” Gunther leaned back, feeling nostalgic. “But not Monsters, the Wildlands, or folks wanting to duel you. No pain, no gain, right?”

"I guess so."

“Don't fret, Gwennie. I went through the same thing, although I was a bit younger than you…” Alesia affirmed Gunther’s nostalgia. “I did some of my best work back then. It was such a carefree period of my life. Questing all day, Purge Missions every week. No Factions to bother me.”

“That’s a mild way to put it,” Gunther laughed, his good humour returning. “Try to imagine it, Gwen. A thirteen-year-old Alesia, only this tall, throwing fireballs this way and that on the Brisbane Line, fighting eight-foot tall crab.”

“Thirteen!” Gwen almost choked on her creme brûlée. Alesia was a child soldier?! What kind of a fucked up experience did the two of you endure?

“Well, I was only Twenty, myself,” Gunther humbly boasted, his stoicism a little loosened by the decanter of Shiraz they had imbibed. “We’re both offensive casters, you see, and we were right in the thick of the Coral Sea War. Man, those damn Mermen, thousands, hundreds of thousands of the bastards; a never-ending tide of stinking fish.”

“Yeah, we ate a lot of seafood,” Alesia chortled. “The war put me off shellfish for years.”

“You'll never look at seafood the same way after a crawfish Mermen tries to take off your arm with a pincer that could chew through steel plates!”

“I remember this time that Gunther got dragged under by an octopus Mermen. To escape, he cooked it from inside out. It took three days to get the ink off him, ha!”

Gwen listened to the two of them swap old war stories and knew that no matter how amicable her siblings-in-craft were to her, there was an intimacy that she could never attain. Though she was the new favourite kitten, there was a place in their Master's cabal for his faithful hounds that she could never occupy.

But Gwen was glad at least, that she was going back to school. There was almost a year left with Yue and Elvia, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it. Yue said she was going to join the military track, but with Alesia’s help and the Magister’s influence, perhaps they could stay together! Elvia would be off on her own, though they could still see one another during breaks.

“Gwen?” Alesia called for her.

“I am sorry, I was daydreaming…” Gwen apologised, her face flushed even though she had only a sip of the wine.

“It’s alright; you must be exhausted.” Gunther pulled back his chair and found himself an apron embossed with yellow duckies. “I’ll clean up, go to bed. You can go back to the dorm tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Gunther. You too, Alesia.” Gwen smiled at them warmly before removing herself and tucking the chair back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I am leaving soon,” Gunther replied. “Though I’ll see you around.”

“Good night, you two.” Gwen performed a cute little curtsy.

“Good night, little sister.” Gunther flashed her a smile with pearly teeth.

Oof! Her heart throbbed. Talk about an au-naturale lady killer.

The siblings-in-craft waited until Gwen was in her room on the second floor before they retired to the bay windows overlooking the harbour. It was now late, well past the witching hour. Upon the surface of the bay, slivers of refracted light from the Barrier Shield, flitters about within the churning of dark waters like silvery fish. From the bay's interior, Sydney extended into the water’s edge, fingers of multi-coloured light, stabbing toward a tenebrous horizon.

“What do you think of Gwen?” Alesia inquired of her brother-in-craft. Sometimes, he was the man of her dreams. Other times, he was the big brother she trusted and loved. Then there were times when he felt like a stranger, a stoic Paladin of the Tower, a title made flesh.

“She's strangely mature for her age,” Gunther articulated in that deep, resonating voice of his.

Alesia found herself leaning against Gunther, her head resting upon his shoulders as they sat on the couch overlooking the bay. One of his hands moved to touch her arm, his fingertips softly caressing the skin until he reached her hair, twirling strands around his digits before letting the ringlets fall. For all his charismatic bluster, Gunther was a prude. Public displays of affection in front of a stranger like Gwen was beyond him.

“I fear Master has dropped a difficult task on my plate. What do we know of her? Is she truly as innocent as she appears to be? She's no child, I am afraid.”

“Well, she's rather tall, well developed, got legs for days,” Alesia replied playfully. She could not deny that Gwen's strange mix of heritage gave her a sense of exotic allure: the girl's eyes, her shapely limbs - no wonder Gwen's uncle thought to pawn her off to the highest bidder.

Gunther gave Alesia a friendly pat on the thigh.

“Don’t be an idiot. I am not interested in little girls.” His mirthful tone then took a severe turn. “I take it you agree with Master then? The both of you are confident that she’s going to be an asset?”

“She’s going to be a great Sister and a good Apprentice,” Alesia's voice rose an octave. “You can't think of her in terms of assets and deficits, Gunther, she’s still a person before anything else. I've taught her for three months now. She's a good girl.”

“Alright, alright, I am sorry,” Gunther made amends by kissing her on the forehead. “I am just looking out for Master. You know his health is not well. It’s a lot of effort raising a new Apprentice.”

“That’s why we’re filling in for him, right?”

Gunther grunted, exhaling deeply.

"I suppose you're right."

The duo remained entwined, comfortable in their familiarity. Alesia could feel Gunther’s body underneath her, at ease and relaxed. They were cuddling, or at least she thought they were. His arms were wrapped around her waspish waist, and her skin was warm against his cheeks. Maybe one day, Gunther will reciprocate her feelings, but his work, his duty, his loyalty to Master - all of it prevented him from pursuing a personal life.

Upstairs, Gwen was asleep, exhausted by close to forty hours of continuous wakefulness, kept alert only by Sufina’s ambrosia. If she could see Alesia and Gunther on that couch though, she would have immediately recognised their body language.

It was a case of two dogs playing on a hearth-rug. The younger worrying, whining, snarling, snapping, giving a pinch, now and then, at the old dog’s ear; the other lying somnolent, blinking at the fire, raising a paw before turning to lick the first. Gunther and Alesia, they were littermates, entwined into a familial embrace, one’s head under the chin of another, falling asleep, numbed by the intimacy of one another's presence.


Gwen left the apartment in borrowed clothes; a modest pink minidress wore over a lacy white camisole. The events of last night weighed heavily on her mind, especially her left ring finger, where now a silvery band acted as guardian and ankle-monitor.

Now bathed under a cloudless sky, Gwen allowed herself to soak in the gentle radiance of the autumn sun. With some time to spare, she decided to take a few hours to walk and think. Her first stop Town Hall, from which Gwen made for Hyde Park. Once at the park, she returned to the old Cypress tree under which she had collapsed some half a year earlier. There, she found gashes scabbed with old sap where her uncontrolled Void blasts had removed chunks of ancient wood.

As she touched the indifferent wound, she grew vaguely aware that her birthday was today. Sweet-sixteen, she amused herself with the meaningless number. What was the passage of time for someone who had no certainty of what their future held? She felt like the proverbial plastic bag from American Beauty, behaving as the wind behaves.

More than ever, she wanted to see Yue and Elvia, though the girls were more than likely with their families. Yue had a regular thing with her father every fortnight, and Elvia either visited her family or worked with her Uncle and her mother at a charity clinic at the edge of the city. Refuting her immature desire, Gwen decided against needlessly disturbing her friends' family-orientated schedules.

Family, the plosive syllables made Gwen shiver. The body she possessed has family in this world: a brother, a father, a mother, uncles and aunties. Yet - it was invariably true that she was alone in this world of monsters and men, a solo traveller whose road bisected, but did not run parallel to others. That was the reality of it; the dirty nitty and gritty of it.

A second life, spent alone?
She didn't want that.

Walking down George St, she allowed the smells of the cafes and restaurants to distract her from her depression. Feeling ambivalent, Gwen focused on her growing hunger. She had eaten a very light breakfast, and it was now almost noon. She was midway between George St, bisecting Pitt St, and there were eateries every few shopfronts. In her eyes, the setting proved familiar but exotic, its decor no different to her old world even though the stores had different signage and many of the businesses catered exclusively to the magically-inclined.

Curiously, the pedestrian section she was on now appeared to have foregone modernisation. There were no glass fronts, gentrified shopfronts, or high-street fashion labels lining the boulevard.

The apparent difference, Gwen realised, was that her former home of Sydney had been a top-tier city; while current Sydney was a Frontier region recovered from Mermen occupation some three-decades ago. Most of its buildings were reconstructed facades of the old town mounded from sandstone, fabricated by Earthen Transmuters. To Gwen, though both cities were aesthetically similar, there was an air of dilapidation about this place that spoke harshly of the 'quality of life' here. Even on the main strip, she could see litter and trash befalling the alleyways.

To her surprise, she stumbled upon an old haunt not too far from the cinema.

In Gwen's old world, the coffee shop had been a quaint, chic little place popular with hipsters and trendsetters. The owner was an old man who always wore a loud vest, and whose hair changed styles pending his mood of the day. He had a daughter who was going to take over the business, but found love elsewhere, leaving the old man to grind out the rest of his days with his Arabica. Gwen rather fancied the old man, who flirted with her during lunch breaks.

But 'hole in the wall' Gwen had arrived at was deeply suspect. The only sign that there was something open was a rusty iron board swinging on its last legs that said 'coffee here'.

What’s the harm in having a look? Feeling nostalgic, Gwen convinced herself to commit to the coffee, no matter how terrible. Moreover, she was curious to see if the old man was here and if his daughter was still part-timing as a waitress in this parallel world.

"Hello?" She walked through the frontage. Thankfully, the interior was clean and tidy.

"Oh hi! Welcome," Gwen was greeted by a girl her age, with short, shoulder length hair and a waitresses' mini-skirt hiked well above her knee. Fiona, her name tag read.

Gwen smoothed her skirt and took a seat near the corner.

"What would you like?" Another voice called out. Gwen felt her heart flutter. The old man! The old man was here!

“Hi Gregor," Gwen stated in the manner to which she as accustomed to, trying her luck. "Flat white, extra shot, skim no sugar."

The old man paused at the discord between the unfamiliar figure of the girl-in-pink against the overtly familiar manner in which she ordered, then went about his business.

The coffee arrived.

Gwen took a sip of the coffee. The milk was watery and the beans acidic, nothing at all like the flat white she had anticipated. Oh well, some things were not meant to be. She thought sadly, feeling foolish.

"!"

A sudden awareness stabbed Gwen in the spine.

She moved her hand subtly to her back pocket, only to find that she was indeed wearing Alesia's skirt.

Her currency card! Her wallet! She had left it in Alesia's apartment! She had her student glyph on her keychain for public transport, for school meals and academic activities, but all private expenses had to come out of an account her mother had set up for her years ago.

Could she leave them her contact? Would Gregor accept that?

As Gwen mulled over the terrible coffee and her embarrassing blunder, two young men sauntered into the shop, their immediate bluster disturbing her train of thought.

"Two cappuccinos, make it quick!" They shouted rudely at no one in particular.

Gwen furrowed her brows; the old shop never had customers like this, one of the reasons why she had enjoyed its ambience. When the waitress, Fiona, brought the men two menus, Gwen could see that they were far more interest in her outfit.

“Told ya the service was good here,” one of them vocalised to the other. "What's your name sweetie?"

The waitress smiled and said nothing.

"Hey, what's your name?"

One of them read her tag.

"Fiona is it?"
"Are you still going to school, Fiona?"
"Come sit with us, Fiona."

Gwen felt the ire rise in her chest.

She watched the waitress escape with the men's order. When Fiona returned with the cappuccino, Gwen baulked at the owner's carelessness. Gregor! What are you doing! You should bring it out yourself! It would appear to Gwen that this world's version of Gregor was somewhat inept.

Gwen wondered if she should lend the father-daughter a hand, though there were too many unknowns. Gregor may be her friend in the old world, but here he was a stranger. With conscious hypocrisy, Gwen put aside her proposed motto of Noblesse Oblige.

"Sir! Hands off!"

Her dilemma escalated in the form of a yelp, a cry of distress and alarm. Gwen looked up from her cup to see that one of the men had taken the girl by the waist and was forcing her to sit with them. A cup spilt in the struggle, and now the duo was adamant Fiona was to blame.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Gregor shouted angrily from behind the coffee machine, producing what looked to be a wooden bat.

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"As I thought," one of the young men grinned from ear to ear, "Jordie, they're both NoMs."

Immediately, his companion’s demeanour changed from peevishness to outright arrogance.

"What are we doing?" The Mage pushed Fiona into a chair, sending her skittering across the floor.

He raised a finger; a swirl of water encircled her father.

"You dare assault a Mage, NoM?"

Old man Gregor glared impotently at his two assailants. His wooden truncheon a joke compared to what they could potentially do to him.

"What... what do you want? You can't use magic ag-against us! That's against the law!" Fiona screamed at the two from the floor. "I'll Message the Police!"

The threat seemed to work.

"Watch your back, cunt!" 'Jordie' spat rudely at the girl still prone and terrified on the floor.

The two young men moved to leave, and that's when they saw Gwen.

FUCK! Alarm bells rang in Gwen's head. I should have left.

"Hey there, young lady," Jordie's eyes lit up. "You work here too?"

Gwen immediately moved for the door. Obligation or no, she's not getting involved with these walking shit-shows. As soon as she's out, she would call the cops. If a bystander called the police, there was no reason for these pricks to harass the shopowner.

But she had underestimated the motivation driving the pair of titillated hooligans. Already incited by their failed attempt at picking up the waitress, the two bucks gawked at the girl in pink blooming before them like an orchid. 'Jordie' scrambled for the exit. The moment he'd lay eyes on the girl, his heart grew sore with desire. There was something about the girl, prettier than all the lasses he had seen, that drove him to act. If he could get the girl to go out with him, the young man thought lasciviously, the envious looks on his friend's faces would be divine! It didn't matter if she was a NoM, he justed wanted to have her.

Gwen meanwhile was appalled at the man's audacity. Seriously? Are they accosting her in broad daylight?

"Move it!" she stated in a tone hinting at mass murder.

Instinctively, the young man backed away. Gwen took the opportunity to escape from the coffee shop.

Never goto dodgy cafes looking for nostalgia, Gwen promised herself as she made haste for the boulevard, where pedestrian traffic would ensure she could call the police unmolested.

Gwen made it no more than a dozen steps before he felt a forceful tug on her ankle, something sodden and wet pulled at her left foot, drenching her wedge sandals. She turned icily to see Jordie with an idiotic simper on his face, mightily pleased with a watery Mage Hand.

"I haven't even gotten your name yet," he quipped with a stupefying grin.

"Mage Hand!"

Gwen tapped into her Conjuration sigil, willing a mote of lightning to exist where the man stood grinning. The air beneath Jordie ionised, an arc of electricity gripped his ankle.

"Arrrghk!" Jordie cried out, leaping into the air and convulsing uncontrollably before landing awkwardly on the dirty pavement, compelling him to perform a freestyle rendition of 'the worm'.

His friend backed off with both hands in the air, his face suddenly the colour of ash. He wasn't about to piss off a Quasi-Elementalist.

"I don't know him that well, he's just a guy from work," he explained. "We just happen to be on break together."

The man had told the truth. They were common Mages from the Manufactorum. From the man's expression, Gwen could see that making himself scarce was his dearest wish of the moment.

"Don't move," she commanded, performing her best impression of Gunther.

She willed a mote of Lightning mana to circulate through her body, her irises glowed, forming two concentric rings of cobalt-electricity.

"I.Ds," she stated coldly. Jordie’s terrified companion produced both of their identity cards after patting down the groaning Jordie.

Gwen took a glance, two Manufactorum workers, low-level Mages whose talents only allowed them the ability to operate reinforced machinery, worthless when placed into the Wildlands or pitted against monsters.

"Don't come here again or bother the store owner," she continued, tossing back their IDs casually. "Or rough men will do to you what I can't be bothered to do right now."

"Of course, Ma'am... absolutely!" The two supplicated, one on his feet and the other on his knees.

Gwen observed as a thin veneer of Transmutation mana covered the man, empowering him enough to pick up his convulsing friend and beat a quick retreat. Gwen turned to leave, though the squelching of one of her sandals ruined her cinematic exit.

"Excuse me... Lady Mage..." A voice cried out. It was the waitress, Fiona.

OH SHIT, I haven't paid! Gwen's face caught fire. Should she dine and dash? There was a first time for everything, be it threatening to electrocute assholes or fleeing a four-dollar flat white.

"Thank you..." The waitress bowed deeply.

"It was nothing. Adieu!" Gwen retreated as she spoke, stomping from the alleyway with one plodding foot trailing water.

Once out on the main boulevard, she took the opportunity to stand in the sun with one foot out of her sandal, drawing eyes to her bare feet as she waited for the damn thing to dry.

She had another place she wanted to visit.

The pedestrian section of Pitt St had always been for luxury goods. Here, gigantic, gaudy display windows intimidated those with weak wallets. Though Gwen had a weakness for handbags, her preference had always been for artisanal and boutique products.

A block later, she arrived at an old Victorian Arcade called the Strand, happy to see another place replicated in this parallel world.

Unsurprisingly, the place housed shops she hadn’t ever seen before. Where once boutiques stores for bonnets, shoes, ties, and vests reigned; here, in this reality, crystals, magical trinketry and enchanted jewellery inundated the enclosed venue.

When Gwen proceeded through the arched gateways, a guard in a bright blue uniform gave her a warm and inviting smile.

"Welcome Madam, please enjoy your visit to the Emporium."

Gwen greeted the man back. Glancing above the guard, she saw a Detect Magic device.

"It's for keeping out the NoMs, Ma'am," the man spoke in a tone that was cordial and polite. "Please enjoy your stay; if you have any questions, I would be glad to answer them."

"Thank you." Gwen passed the guard uneasily.

Do they segregate shoppers here? Gwen was again reminded of her Apartheid analogy for the world in which she found herself. It was the first time she had seen a place bar NoMs from entry. Her old home in Forrestville never had any shops that kept out the NoMs; likewise, her school had NoM staff members, for whom the Principle encouraged equal treatment.

Now inside, Gwen's eyes scanned across a vista of display windows. She could sense the density of the mana in this place, so remarkable as to be almost palpable. Gwen approached the first shop, where a broad window displayed a dozen pairs of intricate earrings, set and cut with enchanted mana stones. There was a short description for each item, what its effects were, and the price tag.

**Earring of Air Fortification**
A boost to your ability to shape and control elemental air. Offers significant increase in efficiency to mana conversion equating to Tier 2 - 3.
Tier 5 Blue-Wind Fox, Orange Zone, Indonesia.
 _Crafted by Master R.J Tillerson, 4En. 4A._
~ 45 H.D.M Crystals

Had Gwen been drinking, the storekeeper would have had to wipe juice from the pane. As far as Gwen could recall, her summer job at the beach selling ice cream made regular currency in Australian Dollars which could only be used to purchase non-magical goods. Last she heard from Helena, her father made no more than 90 HDMs a month, which roughly converted to just under 50,000 roo-dollars. The conversion rate wasn't a reliable metric, however, as NoMs usually had no access to magical goods and services anyway. Additionally, Gwen had a suspicion that the Mage-controlled Frontier government took advantage of the exchange to keep the NoM population in their place.

She looked at the price again and felt her breath quickening. Gunther had said that Edgar’s Contingency Teleportation Ring could be anywhere between five thousand to ten thousand HDMs. Anyone with that kind of money likely didn't take losing an arm and a leg lying down.

"Miss?"

Gwen looked up to see the shop assistant smiling at her serenely, a beautiful blonde woman with lovely cerulean eyes, stunning in a full set of enchanted earrings and a necklace.

"Would you like try out any of the items? We have a courtesy Cognisance resonator where you can test the efficacy of the items."

"No, thank you, I am just looking," Gwen replied. The woman gave her a curt nod before returning behind the counter.

Four shops down, Gwen found what she had desired since finding out they existed - Storage Rings. This 'luggage shop' had dozens of them, all in different shapes and sizes.

**Storage Ring (minuscule)**
Allows for the storage and retrieval of small items. Max Capacity 0.3 L.
Tier 3 High-Density Spatial Crystal, Orange Zone, Australia.
 _Crafted by Master G.D Cooper, 5En. 3T. 4E._
~ 80 H.D.M Crystals

She surveyed the selection with a growing expression of grimness.

**Storage Ring (Medium)**
Allows for the storage and retrieval of large items. Max Capacity 3000 L.
Tier 8 High-Density Spatial Crystal, Black Zone, South Africa.
 _Crafted by Master P.J. Kali Jr, 8En. 5T. 6A._
~ 1990 H.D.M Crystals

"..."

Gwen doubted if she had ever possessed that much liquid asset even in her old life. 1990 HDM Crystals? Her father could buy one if he forwent two-years' salary.

It goes without saying that having access to crystals would help her Spellcraft immensely. In her old life, her Consultancy had made good money, she had created an expert team who came up with efficient and creative solutions - but how her knowledge of finance, creative accounting, marketing and international business help her here? As far as she knew, only NoMs did those jobs in this world. They kept the little cogs of the economy greased, but Mages pulled the levers.

The bigger problem was that she was a high school student. She couldn't be a Mage, and also work like a NoM on the side, could she? From where was she going to get crystals to invest? The only person in her family with wealth to spare was Uncle Kwan, who had inherited his wealth from Grandfather, an Enchanter-

Grandfather Huang!

She paused. Perhaps she could work out something with her grandfather? A sponsorship she could pay back in a year or two. She remembered seeing him years ago, and the old man had been perfectly amiable. According to Helena, the old Mage was getting long in the tooth, and his mind wasn't what it used to be, but he was still a Tier 5 Enchanter! Not only that, he lived separately from Uncle and her Mother's new family in the Huang’s country estate. Between her charm and his senility - there was no reason he would ignore a granddaughter in dire need!

Gwen took another forlorn look at the Ring of Storage, ignoring the rapidly blinking eyes of the store clerk trying to catch her gaze. To think that a twenty-kilometre serpent could wipe out the city in one fell swoop and here she is, having the woes of money.

She sighed.
Somethings never change.


Gwen made it back to the dorm just in time for dinner. She ventured into the cafeteria, eyes scanning for Yue and Elvia, but couldn't find them anywhere. Had they not returned yet? She thought to herself, disappointed at her friends' absence. Tellingly, the rest of the student cohort were likewise absent, likely as a result of the averted crisis.

"Gwen," a soft voice called out meekly. Gwen turned to see a girl rolling towards her on a wheelchair, her bronzed legs angled to one side, too tall for the limited extension of the footrest.

Debora! Gwen felt her heart drop. She can't believe that she had forgotten all about her friend. Though a lot had happened, to clean forget about the girl she had electrocuted was unforgivable.

"Deb..." Gwen fell in beside Debora, dropping to the girl's eye-level. "I am really sorry..."

"It's okay Gwen, I know... I know what happened," Debora assured her softly. "Instructor Alesia told me about it at the hospital. I am glad you managed to knock me out, otherwise..."

Gwen took Debora's hand in her own.

"Can we talk for a moment? Up in your room?"

“Yes, I would love that,” Gwen agreed, feeling awkward that they were airing their traumatic laundry out in a half-empty cafeteria, filled with the sound of clinking plates.

"Thanks," Debora concurred. Reflexively, Gwen moved to push Debora to the levitation platform.

"It's alright; I got it." Debora incanted softly, and the wheels began to move. "Gotta keep up the practice. I still gotta to catch up to you and Yue."

Once inside, Gwen could see that both Yue and Elvia were out. The cleanliness of the room was evidence of that.

"There's a letter for you," Debora pointed out.

Gwen picked up the envelope. Inside was a scented card with embossed words in italic.

Gwennie! Look up!

Quizzically, Gwen looked up.

'BANG!'

A burst of light erupted from the ceiling. Gwen shielded her eyes, simultaneously opening a conduit to her Evocation Sigil, flashing her eyes electric blue in the darkness. With Debora here, she couldn't just open up a Shield, but she was confident that any ambushing enemies would cope a blast of lightning to the face.

Instead, banners fluttered from the ceiling.

"Happy Birthday!"

"Happy Birthday!"

"Sweet Sixteen!"

Cries of jubilance surrounded Gwen, startling her so much that were it not for the intimate sound of those familiar voices, she would have let loose her cantrip. Instead, she became covered in confetti and strings.

Happy Birthday? Her mind spun. That's right; it WAS her birthday today!

Gwen gawked as her friends materialised in her room. Some cheeky bugger had used an Illusion spell to make the room look unoccupied!

"Oh, you guys!" She couldn't help but gush. Elvia and Yue both embraced her. Jun and Henley were here as well, busy unleashing more poppers, sending out streams of colour and sound.

"Sweet sixteen!" Elvia, on her tippy toes, gingerly pecked Gwen's cheek.

Gwen cheeked her friend in return and took in a whiff of the Positive Mana radiating from her golden girl. Oh, how she had missed this!

Yue joined the duo and hugs were given all around, even to the boys.

The girls had prepared a cake for Gwen, a cute tri-colour sponge cake. A table full of food catered by the kitchen below reminded Gwen she had yet to have dinner. In the midst of jubilation, Gwen found herself beside Debora, again apologising for what she had done.

"I am fine," Debora divulged intimately. "My nerves took some damage, but with continued physiotherapy and restoration magic, I'll be good as new in a month or so."

She tried to prove her point by lifting her legs, achieving only an inch of movement.

"Deb..." Gwen placed a careful hand on Debora's thighs, feeling the trembling flesh under her fingers. "If there's anything I can do for you..."

"Don't worry." Debora looked up at Gwen, then motioned with her eyes towards Jun. "Although if you don't mind... I want to ask you a favour for the future."

"Anything, Deb, just let me know."

"We... I don't want to push my luck... but if you want to make it up to me, promise me that you'll give me a chance to join your team, I want to be a part of what you guys are doing."

"..." Gwen looked at her old friend in surprise. They had their adversarial relationship going for almost half a year now, and the 180 took her by surprise.

"Sure, I'll speak to the others," Gwen promised, recovering after a moment's deliberation. Debora had demonstrated ample ability. Should Elvia and Yue oppose Debora's inclusion, it would not be because of her talents.

"I don't think we'll be having any more Field Trips," Gwen added uncertainly.

"There's a compulsory Quest in an Orange Zone next year, right before we start our graduation and military service," Debora pleaded, her moist eyes looking more vulnerable than Gwen had ever seen them. "Two of my team members will be gone by then, as will you Abjurer and Diviner. I need this Gwen. I need to do well for my future' sake. I hope you can understand."

"I understand, Deb," Gwen answered. She empathised with her old friend. Debora was hard working and talented, but her Spellcraft wasn't rare in talent or affinity. She may be outstanding in a regular school like Blackwattle, but skills like hers were a dime a dozen in the State's Selective Schools and privileged private academies.

"Take care of your self," Gwen comforted her old friend, patting her on the hand. "I'll speak to the others, I promise."

"What're you guys talking about?" Yue imposed herself upon them, a plate of sliced cake in each hand.

"I'll tell you later," Gwen replied. "Thanks so much for organising all of this."

"No sweat." Yue grinned. "It was Deb's idea actually; you never told us your birthday you know."

"Oh?" Gwen was surprised to hear that. She's technically thirty plus sixteen now, an old spinster! Where are my cats! She amused herself with an old clichè. I was your age, we trained through sun, wind, sheaves and snow and had to walk six miles through a Purple Zone to get to school.

"Thanks again, Deb."

"So," Yue continued. "Sixteen, you got one year to register for the mandatory service, what did you think about my offer? Wanna join with me?"

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"Sounds like a plan," Gwen replied, though she knew Yue had a far brighter future ahead. If Yue became Alesia's Apprentice, and Alesia was her sister-in-craft, did that mean Yue had to bow and call her Aunty Gwen?

"Well, enjoy the cake! I'll get some more. You want a drink, Deb?” Yue regarded her old arch-nemesis. “Man that thing could use a cup holder huh? Why not transmute one?"

Deb laughed.

"I am only using it for a week or so; then I start on crutches."

'Ding!'

Gwen's Message Device pinged.

"Excuse me."

She moved outside into the corridor.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Gwen." A masculine voice came over the phone. "Happy Birthday."

"Dad?!" Gwen replied in earnest surprise.

"Don't act so surprised, as if I wouldn't know your birthday. You’re sweet sixteen after all. It feels like just yesterday you were still a little girl. You grew up so fast. I hardly had time to notice..."

Was the man reading off a script? Gwen marvelled at her father's sudden verbosity. Usually, they exchanged a dozen sentences a day. In all honesty, she didn't know how to respond. This man was her father, but not in a sense that felt real or concrete. She did, however, have memories of another sweet-sixteen where she worked the graveyard shift at McDonald's, being paid award wages and feeling pleased about making almost $20 an hour.

"Thank dad," she said finally. "It makes us happy that you called."

"Principle Bartlett Messaged me and told me of some things that happened. I am sorry I wasn't there for all that… I hope you don't think too badly of me."

If Gwen was still the insecure daughter Morye had known, she would probably be in tears, or at least drunk with sentimentality. As an adult, Gwen knew her father's call was a result of guilt-tripping on his daughter's birthday.

"That's alright Dad. I understand. Let's have lunch sometimes. It'd be good to talk."

"Thanks." Father and daughter each played their parts. "That's good to hear."

"Dad, can you do me a favour?" Gwen had one more task for her wayward father.

Her father's response was one of hesitation.
Well, that didn't last long, she scoffed. At least her father was back to normal.

"Do you know Grandfather's number? For his country estate?"

"Ah, of course. I think I do... I'll message it to you, are you thinking of visiting?"

"Yeah, there are some questions I need to ask him."

"When are you going?" Her father's voice was full of relief. Maybe he thought she was asking him for money.

"Tomorrow if possible."

"Want me to call him? He hasn't seen you since you were ten or so, I am pretty sure he has no idea who you are if you just called out of the blue."

"He's not that senile, is he?"

"Oh... it's pretty bad. He was rather paranoid when I saw him last year when he made me and your mother visit with Percy... I think he forgot we were separated."

"I wasn't invited?"

"..." Morye's silence spoke louder than words.

But blood as thicker than water right? Surely her grandfather was just senile or something. Surely he wouldn't mind answering some of her questions or giving her a hand with access to some cheaper magical items. Aren't grandfathers supposed to dote on their granddaughters? It came with the territory.

"Can you call him?"

"Alright. Happy Birthday, Gwen."

Morye hurriedly ended the Message, leaving Gwen alone in the empty corridor. Behind the oaken door of her dorm room, she could hear the girls laughing.

Feeling melancholic, she leaned against the wall, thinking of the serpent, of Henry Kilroy, of the Tower, of the friends she now possessed, at once overwhelmed by the surrealism of it all.

When Gwen woke up in the mid-morning, there was a Message spell awaiting on her device. Her father had contacted her maternal Grandfather, and he was expecting her.

"Gwen, can you take Percy with you? Your grandfather hasn't seen him in forever, but I am busy today. Just drop by the house and pick him up, he'll be waiting."

Gwen chose not to speculate as to why her father was busy on a Sunday.

In her old world, Surya Indra Huang was a retired professor, a former engineer who retired rich. Her maternal family traced their genealogy from a long line of native tea traders working for the Dutch trading consortium. There was an awful colonial air about the family history that Gwen found both fascinating and abhorrent, involving multiple feuding wives, loveless marriages, and lawsuits over land. Caught on the losing side of the feud, Surya migrated to Sydney, laid down his roots and re-married.

In this world, Gwen was less sure. All she knew was that her grandfather was an eccentric Enchanter who made the family fortune bountiful enough to set up his son and daughter to not know the worries of money. He had a tumultuous relationship with his children after Gwen's grandmother passed away from illness. For some reason, Gwen had seen him two, maybe three times in the last sixteen years.

Nonetheless, Gwen washed up and made her face. When she opened her wardrobe though, she saw a bag that she had not noticed in the hustle and bustle of last night. It was one of those folded, high-quality boutique bags used by branded stores. There was a card attached, and Gwen knew without reading that it had to be from her mother. With mixed feelings, she withdrew yet another Miu Miu dress, a one-piece in navy. The top was modest, covering her shoulders with a short sleeve; its length though. was notably in the style that her mother adored, the hem a few inches above the knee.

How many dresses for a Storage Ring? Gwen wondered.

At least she didn't have to think of what to wear, Gwen comforted herself. She opened the card that came with the package:

**'Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen ~ Hope you like the dress. Wear it next time we luncheon.'**

\- XXOO. H.H

Not a single word of apology or remorse, Gwen snorted as she dropped the card back in the bag. As usual, the dress fit her impeccably. If nothing else, her mother knew Gwen's figure like the back of her hand. She then found a pair of beetle-black Mary Janes that went well with the dress, then slapped on mascara, gloss, and two generous dashes of eyeliner.

She kissed the girls goodbye as they lazed in bed, grunting and flailing when she pecked their cheeks, then made for the station. It was Sunday, and she had to catch an interchange service from Redfern to Forrestville.

At the station, she was surprised to find Percy was already waiting at the ticket gates.

"How?!" Gwen marvelled, hugging her brother.

"Had to leave. Do you remember how thin our walls are? Dad's banging his-"

"STOP!" Gwen buried the boy's face in her bosoms. She released the boy once she was satisfied that she had sufficiently reconnected with her brother. "How you been, bud?"

"Worse now that I gotta visit a weird old guy instead of shooting hoops with my friends."

A typical teenage response. Gwen acknowledged. All's well with the world.

"Alright, blame me, it was my fault. I made Dad call Gramps," Gwen confessed. "How about another hug to make it up to you?"

The gesture drew smiles from several other passengers whose gaze had lingered on the leggy teenager, whose presence was a spot of beauteous blue dispelling the dreary monotony of public transit.

Percy blushed.

"Not when you're like that," he replied. In his opinion, his sister's heels and the hem of her dress drew unnecessary attention.

"Too bad!" Gwen embraced her brother again, pressing him against her chest because he could be such a cute little boy when he acted his age. Give it a year or two, and she would be too self-conscious to hug and kiss him so playfully.

"Stop!" he cried out.

She ruffled his carefully combed hair.

"It's good to see you too, buddy."

"You too." Percy rubbed his forehead vigorously with his sleeve. "Can we go? Please?"

The siblings took the Country Link interstate out west beyond the main confines of the city. Two hours away from Sydney and up north was the tablelands that fed the city, magically maintained by Mages and tilled by NoM farmers.

The Huang country estate sat on a piece of land bordered by vineyards in a region called Windsor Downs, named after the British Imperial household of Windsor. It covered three acres; itself converted from an old winery into a sort of semi-modern country estate. Though initially intended as a holiday home for the Clan, it had long since been used exclusively by Surya Huang as his private abode, preferring solitude over the company of his children.

When the train had finally arrived at Maitland, the two grandchildren awaited a pick up from the manor,

After a quarter of an hour, the boxy shape of a vintage Mercedes rumbled up, a trail of wasteful mana swirling in the dust. The doors closest to Gwen and Percy opened up, revealing a woman in a rather daring outfit; a pair of cropped jeans and a spaghetti top exposing two mountainous white globes.

Percy's eyes popped out of their sockets. Gwen slapped him on the head and made him sit at the back.

"Hi, I am Melissa, but you can call me Mel," she introduced herself once they were all in the car. "Master Surya is expecting you."

"Hi Mel," Gwen replied. "It's nice to meet you."

Melissa cranked the gears of the old Merc. The car began to move.

"Mel, what do you do at Gramps?" Gwen asked, her hazel eyes searching for answers. The way Melissa dressed, she could be anything.

"I am his Apprentice," Mel replied.

What? Gwen's gaze moved up the girl's voluptuous figure. She certainly did not look like an Apprentice.

"There's two of us at the estate," Melissa dropped another bomb.

Oh? Gwen turned her attention back towards the road. Melissa had a gentle face, but what was with that outfit? Gwen was starting to feel a little conscious in her choice of attire. Maybe she should have gone super casual? Perhaps her grandfather hated the couture, prim and proper look? She glanced in the rearview mirror at Percy, who wore cargo shorts and a baggy, plain polo shirt.

"How's gramps? I haven't seen him in years."

"He's doing well, a little grabby, but he's a good Master."

Gwen furrowed her brows.

"It's all harmless fun," Melissa intoned casually. "We're used to it. I mean, its a great opportunity he's given us to learn some advanced techniques. He is an artist, after all."

That's sexual harassment! Gwen wanted to blurt out. What do you mean you're chill with it?!

Ahead, the estate came into view, revealing a large bungalow in the style of an outback manor. Gwen took a deep breath and prayed that her grandfather wasn't a pervy old codger.


Like many estates from the Outback, The Manor was a single sprawling level fabricated from a composite network of sandstone, glass, timber and transmuted cement. From afar, the Estate had an artistic air, a contemporary facade; viewed from the front, it melded into the landscape. At the back, a good forty meters of decking extended beautifully toward a vista of rolling tablelands.

Melissa kicked the handbrake then threw the stick into neutral. With the power cut, the engine's mana cores coughed and died, clinking as it cooled. Gwen opened the passenger side door and extracted her legs awkwardly, for the sunken seats preventing her from modestly removing herself.

Melissa whistled.

"Nice stalks, you Helena's lass?"

"I am, do you know my mother?"

"We've met."

"Amiably?"

Melissa laughed, slapping Gwen on the back so hard she had to prop herself against the car.

"Funny gal huh?" She grinned. "Come on in; the master's waiting."

The interior of the estate consisted of dark floors and stark walls, favouring glass wherever possible to let in the natural light. Here and there, artistic sculptures made of various materials sprouted seemingly at random.

Upon closer inspection, Gwen realised the abstract figures were hyper sensuous statues of women in various states of undress. The moulding of their breasts, waists and buttocks expertly shaped as to possess an uncomfortable realism. More disturbingly perhaps, the figures were contorted artistically a manner that made them come alive.

Gwen covered Percy's eyes, the boy had been inspecting a gigantic sculpture at the centre of the atrium, mesmerised by its indecency.

"These... are Grandfather's work?"

"Oh yes, some of his best." Melissa slapped a plump, black, obsidian buttock. "He gets incredible commissions on these you know."

"Anyway, if he's not here to greet us, then he's probably in the workshop."

They penetrated through house's atrium and onto the veranda. Beyond the deck, an infinity water garden extended towards the horizon, mirroring the blue sky. It created a whole world of blue beyond the decking, at the ends of which was a workshop bellowing steam and smoke.

What the hell is that? Gwen mentally checked her textbooks. The building at the end looked more like a forge. An Enchanter's workplace should be akin to a watchmaker's workshop, possessed of small boxed shelves of precious materials hidden in a large elevated table, upon which were dozens of complex instruments used to make glyph scripts.

Instead, from the ponderous door came a hiss of cooling steam that sent Gwen's skirt flying, forcing her to arrest the wayward hem against her buttocks. Within, she saw anvils, moulds, carving blades, dozens of filers, tongs, and what seemed to be a small mountain of ingots.

With wonder, Gwen stared as a bronze statue in the shape of a voluptuous woman appeared, stark naked, walking towards them. She looked just like Melissa, only freed from the bondage of clothing, sporting wide hips that reminded Gwen of Greco statues.

HOLY SHIT. Gwen's mind gave her a good kicking. A FUCKING GOLEM.

As complex constructs, Golems were the highest level of craft possible for an Enchanter. Clay Golems, Iron Golems, Crystal Golems, they were invaluable tools of industry and war. As a Frontier city, Sydney invariably suffered a shortage.

Was this a Bronze Golem? Gwen gushed, her heart pounding at the immense possibilities represented by this female construct. How incredible must her family be if Grandfather could create Golems?

But why were there nipples on a golem?
Gwen's brows furrowed.
Her gaze fell lower.

Ho boy! She covered Percy's eyes. Golem or no, this was no sight for a child. Those swinging fun-bags were far too realistic to be PG-13, bronze or otherwise, not to mention what was carved out downstairs.

Percy was already rigid with shock, his mind penetrating into a brave new world.

"Hey Tess," Melissa greeted the Golem.

"Yo, welcome back," it replied.

It took a moment for the metallic bronze to fade from the skin of the Golem, returning to that of flesh. The woman known as Tess turned to Gwen, whose hands covered Percy's eyes, and smirked.

"Never seen a Bronze Flesh Transmute before?" She asked mirthfully. "You can't work here without Resist Hot and Cold, ideally Greater Resistance."

By now, Gwen was glad she had not blurted out something about Bronze Golems. Tess walked over to a counter and placed a ring upon her finger. From within, she summoned a robe.

The steam was clearing by now. Gwen could see the figure of a gnarly old man staring at yet another artistic creation. He was almost dwarfish, with dark skin and sinewy arms. His frame was skinny, practically skin and bones, with a bulbous head that swung back and forth on his stick-thin neck.

Even now the old man was moulding the glowing statue, the metal deforming where his hands touched, shaping this way and that as though it was clay putty and not heated iron.

"Do you like them?" A voice that sounded like rattling nails called out, echoing through the chambers of the stifling smithy. "That big one took me almost a month.”

He pointed to a voluptuous creation.

Gwen wasn't sure whether she should bow or perform some other supplication she was unaware of, so she curtsied. Her action appeared to please the old man, who took to walking around her slowly, ponderously inspecting every inch of her like a critic at an art gallery.

"They are lovely," Gwen replied, watching her Grandfather making the rounds. She held onto the overstimulated boy with an iron grip, praying Percy wouldn't pop an erection in front of their grandfather.

"Started making them a year ago!" Surya announced. "You mother refused to let your brother there take over the family business. So I've taken to work on things I always wanted to do."

Gwen turned to look at Percy, who shrugged.

"So you're Helena's girl. Yeah, I remember you," Surya began. "You were this big.”

The Enchanter placed a hand at his chest. Gwen was tall even as a kid.

“And now you're a giant!" Surya laughed.

Gwen too effected a polite chuckle, hoping it would build some rapport with the strange old man.

"Lovely calves, excellent contour." Surya's inspection continued. "Your father was a short bastard if I recall, and your mother has a fat ass, you lucked out."

"Thanks, Grandfather," Gwen was beginning to see where her mother gets her obsessive body image compulsions.

"Good, good," the old man continued. "You model?"

"No Grandfather, I am an Acolyte."

"Really? You any good?"

"I am a Lightning Evoker, Grandfather."

"No shit? really?" He raised a bushy white brow; the effect was like watching a caterpillar come to life on his face. "From whose arse did we pull you out? You sure you're Helena's daughter? Morye loved to poke around, you know. Helena was an ingrate, but your father screwed that poor, stupid girl over more times than I can count."

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Surya's frankness made Gwen nervous. All she could do was smile and nod, hoping that she wouldn't say or do something to upset her Patriarch.

"Still, a Quasi-elementalist." Surya rubbed his chin, once again examining Gwen as if was some newly uncovered artefact of immense interest. "Your mother tried to sell you off to the highest bidder yet?"

"Not successfully," Gwen replied truthfully. The man knew his daughter well.

"Heh." Surya chuckled. Gwen chuckled with him. "What did they tell you about me?"

"..." Gwen wondered if she should lie, but decided against it.

"They told you I was a crazy old man right? A real nutcase?"

"Actually, they never talked about you at all, Grandfather."

Gwen needlessly drilled their relation into her response, hoping that the idea of an endearing granddaughter would bring forth some form of filial sentimentality.

Despite her best effort, however, her grandfather flew into a wrathful trance.

"Typical... typical... ungrateful kids, I gave them everything... hmmph... call me crazy..."

Gwen realised she had better lower his blood pressure before he blew a gasket.

"Percy is here with me." Gwen brought her brother forward in the manner of one performing a show-and-tell. "Your dearest grandson!"

"Hmmph!" Surya grunted with annoyance, still muttering angrily.

Percy punched Gwen in the rib.

"Whoops! You've set the master off!" Gwen turned to see Tess approach with a face full of concern. "His mind tends to run off the rails at times; it could be hours before he recovers."

Gwen watched as the woman sidled up to her grandfather, pressing her body into him like mother coddling a child.

"Surya~ Surya, you want to have a drink? Something to eat?"

Gwen watched her grandfather's face slowly relax, the anger draining from him like molten bronze from a crucible. Eventually, the wrinkles on his face relaxed. He looked up, once again taking note of the world around him.

"Wha? Oh, Tess, yeah, sure, water for me."

Phew, Gwen relaxed. Had her grandfather lost his shit, that would have been the end of her visit.

"Tess, are you Grandfather's apprentice too?"

"Yep, I am his Transmutation Apprentice. Mel is his Enchanter."

"Oh," Gwen looked for Melissa, the woman had gone to get some water for the old Magus.

"Thanks for looking after him," Gwen replied earnestly. Having never taken care of anyone in her life, she couldn't imagine the hassle of looking after someone suffering from senility.

"Just give him a coddle, dear." Teresa winked at Gwen. "He's sweeter than you know."

Gwen turned to Percy expectantly.
Her brother's face informed her that there was no way he was hugging his grandfather and that she should be the one to do it.

"You guys want anything?" Tess asked.

"Just water, thanks."

"I'll have a lemonade." Percy raised his hand.

"Sure, I'll be back,” Tess gave Surya a peck on the forehead. "You just keep interrogating him."

"Mel, Tess and I are entirely professional, just so you know," Having regained his lucidity, Surya explained as he walked Gwen out of the workshop towards the infinity feature under the back veranda. "Not at all like your father."

"Of course, Grandfather." Gwen followed demurely, watching him deciding between a wicker couch and a small alfresco dining set. He chose the dining set as it offered both Gwen and Percy a seat.

"So, why are you here? Your father was pretty vague on the subject," Surya began.

"Grandfather, I wanted to ask you some questions," Gwen said sweetly. "That and I wanted to see you."

Her declaration brought a smile to Surya's cracked lips.

"Is that all?"

"But... in truth, there is a more dire reason for my visit. I am in need of funds, Grandfather," Gwen confessed. "As well as magical items."

Percy almost spat out the glass of lemonade he was nursing. He gazed up at his sister, demanding to know if she came all this way to beg. If so, why the hell was he here?

"Helena not giving you an allowance?" Surya looked at Gwen sceptically. “Your father broke or something?"

"I would rather not," Gwen replied, lowering her voice modestly. "I would prefer to work for an income if possible, but I don't know how to go about it.”

"Understandable." Surya thought a little about Gwen and her circumstances and acknowledged that in her place, he would also prefer not to be in her mother's debt.

"How about your Uncle? He's got the lion's share of what I had left them. Isn't he living in a new house in Kirribilli?"

Gwen explained what had happened the last time she went by the Manor.

Surya grumbled cynically.

"Social climbers..." He sighed. "All those years of Spellcraft and hard work, and my kids are just social climbers without a Path."

"Well, Richard is doing very well. He got a commendation to the Four Houses at Prince's..."

"I heard." Surya regarded his Granddaughter, whose features looked nothing like his own. She was tall, lithe, and had her mother's hazel eyes and dark hair. "So you're the reason Richard got that placement. How well do you know this Alesia de Botton?"

"We're acquaintances," Gwen lied. "She was my Instructor."

Surya mulled over the news in his mind while Gwen waited in silence.

Tess and Melissa returned once more with snacks. Surya took the chance to properly introduce his Apprentices. The girls were twins that Surya had found by chance while selling his artworks. One was a Transmuter, and the other an Enchanter. They took a liking to the old master’s craft, and Surya was happy to have them as his live-in students. In this world, the Convent of the Craft was far more binding than that of the blood of the womb, and so the girls became Surya's constant companions.

As for Percy, Surya gave the boy a few kind words, then nothing more. Since Helena was adamant that Percy would attend Prince's, which meant serving the Four Houses, which involved travelling away from Sydney, it would not be possible for Percy to take over the family business. At any rate, Percy had to Awaken first, and the chance that an Evoker and an Abjurer would produce an Enchanter was slim indeed.

"So, what Path are you taking?" Surya continued to grill Gwen about her aspirations.

"I can't conclusively say, but here's what I do know..."

Gwen told him of her desire to finish high school, enter the military and join one of the government agencies. It was typical of any high-achiever Magus wannabe, but it was realistic and Gwen had the potential.

"...And for that, you need money and items." Surya finished.

"Yes Grandfather," Gwen affirmed.

"What makes you think I am so generous? After all, we have only met twice, once with you as a child, and again now."

Gwen felt her professional acumen tingle, the tone of her Grandfather’s voice suggested willingness, although the man desired a more valid excuse. The degree of his 'help' therefore, would be dependent entirely upon her sincerity.

"I have this..."

Gwen opened her hand, and there was the shimmering chromatic scale that the Serpent had given her. It glinted under the sun with a prismatic display of rainbow hues.

Surya exploded from where he had sat, clasping her hand.

"Where did you get this?!" He uttered in disbelief, his spittle landing all over her palm.

Gwen said nothing. She could feel a tingle in her mind; the Geas was in full effect.

Surya swallowed.

"Is it yours?"

Gwen nodded.

“Who gave it to you?”

Gwen remained mum.

Surya considered his options. It was evident to him that his Granddaughter was keeping a secret. The object was, by his expert eye, something that belonged to a being of at least Ancient tier. Such a scale was an exceedingly rare material that appeared only once or twice a decade, generally after an extensive Subjugation or Purge. Considering the recent news cycle, Surya could manage an educated guess as to its origin. If so, why did Gwen have it and why can she not speak of it?

Either way, he was tempted.

An Enchanter receiving rare ingredients with questionable origins was the mithril standard for the tetragram-glyph. The profession would hardly exist if every prudish crafter were bothered by dubiously sourced materials, be it the Grey Market under the Tower, or the Obsidian Exchange. The more an Enchanter worked on expensive and exotic materials, the greater their craft could grow. At the proficiency of Surya's skills, nothing short of black zone materials could extend his Spellcraft.

Hoping the temptation was enough, Gwen closed her hand, cutting off Surya's longing gaze.

"Would you like to work on it?" She proposed, blinking her long lashes.

No shit I would like to work on it, Surya grumbled sulkily. He regarded his Granddaughter in a new light. She wasn't here to beg - no, she was here to negotiate! A curious smile touched the old Enchanter's lips; he found himself smiling despite the suspicion that he was being played. How old was the girl now? Fourteen? No, with a figure like that, at least Sixteen. Her mother never did possess a mind for manipulation, Helena was an open palm that rudely asked for more.

"What would you like to have it crafted as?" Surya spoke carefully.

"Something defensive. I am lacking when it comes to shielding and fortification."

"Hmm..." Surya pondered the options. The Scale possessed the properties of all major elements, which meant that he could potentially create something unique and highly specialised. "How's are your Shielding spells?"

"Terribly weak against solid projectiles."

"Well," Surya began. "I can make you an Elemental-Shift item with an inbuilt Shield attunement. You'd be able to make any Prime Elemental shield as if you had Affinity. Though that Affinity is going to be minimal."

Gwen pondered the pros and cons of the proposed effects. The most important aspect of this was the advent of casting Water Shield, which was near-perpetual and self-regenerating, or the Earthen Shield, which could ward against hard-point attacks.

"Give it some thought," Surya proposed. "Personally, I suggest a passive item. Active items prevent you from casting other spells, so its uses are limited."

"Oh," Gwen replied disappointedly. For a moment, she thought she had found a rule-breaking cheat.

"A passive item can be just as potent. It could increase your resistance - in this case, all Primary Elements, which make up for eighty per cent of all Mages. Ah, if only you were a Conjurer, it would be pretty interesting if you could use Elemental Shift to bring to life all sorts of Elemental beings. There used to be a Mage I know that could combine all four elements - a Plant Mage, wouldn't that be great?"

At the mention of 'Conjurer', Gwen gazed at her Grandfather awkwardly. A titanic battle of truth and deceit raged within her. Should she tell him the truth? She didn't want to waste creating an item that didn't take advantage of all her Schools of Magic.

An expression of indecision appeared on Gwen's face.

"What, you're a Conjurer?" Surya sputtered, his mind conjuring an unlikely hypothesis. As an Enchanter, he was hypersensitive to motes of mana from different Schools. When Gwen froze on the spot, he knew his suspicion was right. "You're shitting me!"