Chapter 24 - Chapter 23

Author Notes: This is the biggest chapter I've wrote to day. It is also not very fast, and built for ambience, the development of characters you don't yet know, and to provide a lot of context.

I advise not rushing it, and read at your own pace rather than trying to power through.

***

"...and as ye can see," Berg said, opening the door, "'Tis all in perfect shape."

The dwarf glanced back at me, as if expecting a reaction, and gestured for me to come in invitingly.

So without hesitating or long, I came in.

The interior indeed looked a lot like it did when I left it. My memory of the time turned a bit misty with the passage of years, and I didn't bother to use Resonant Soul just to make sure, but there was a vague sense of recognition.

Now that I thought about it, this place was my first proper home in this world, wasn't it?

Not that it meant anything.

I slowly walked past the lobby, feeling the dwarf's attentive eyes on my back, and entered the living room, which also passed for my private study, outside of laboratory work.

There were the books I left, some of the trophies, like rare monstrous beasts' hides, skulls, and such, some of the gifted weapons…

There was a thin layer of dust around the shelves, which my eyes immediately spotted.

But the armchairs and table, as well as the floors, looked almost pristine.

"It's much more than I could've realistically expected," I said, turning around towards the dwarf, "Berg… thank you. My request to keep this place intact must have caused you a lot of grief over the years."

It wasn't difficult to connect the dots. The Dornpass Valley, where my hut was originally built, changed substantially in those decades. Before, there was a single new village here. Now there was a mining town, and a great many farms, that, apparently, grew great amounts of crops on the fertile soil of the Valley.

The soil was likely fertile due to burnt-down vines.

My hut was positioned near a cliffside of one of the mountains that formed the valley, an area that used to have frequent landslides before I reinforced the cliff with magic. I picked this spot originally because it was the least infected with the vines, and was truly far away from civilization.

When the valley was cleared of the infestation of the vines, in great part due to my own efforts, this place too must have looked quite alluring. The fact that a lot of land around my hut belonged to me now legally, even as far as the Dornpass Town was concerned, was the fruit of Berg's work and dedication to a careless request of mine.

"Ye still don't get it," The man gruffed out, shaking his head, "Ye may think 'twas a tall ask now, but… Well, for me, 'twas the first real plea for help from a friend headin' off."

I considered him for a moment. He was right… I didn't really get it. There were no situations like this in my previous life, so nothing to intellectually equate his words to. This was my greatest weakness in my understanding of humanity.

The demon Albert understood only what a man named Albert experienced, once upon a time. Everything else was speculation at best.

As always, it was infuriating. Like being stabbed with your own inadequacy and inferiority, an inability to even grasp what the dwarf before me had, no matter how hard I would have tried.

"It is what it is," He said simply, folding his arms on his chest, "Despite what ye may think, 'twasn't unpleasant takin' care o' this place. I can't complain, seein' as I used it as a bit of a getaway now and then. There's a fine fishin' spot not far from here."

I turned to him.

"The one about two miles south-west of the lightning-struck great oak?" I recalled the place, I think. It was one of the spots where the mountain rivers converged into a greater one and formed a deep pool beneath a few willows.

"The very one," The man mused, his thick mustache moved as he must have pursed his lips tightly, "Shame folk know the spot nowadays. Not much fish left to go 'round."

I nodded absent-mindedly at that, studying the roof above.

"I see you did make some repairs," I commented on the visible planks up top.

The dwarf grumbled.

"Aye, I did. Not everyone can just magic up a solution, ye know? House was never built to last for decades. Ye've no idea how much fixin' I had to do," He approached the nearest wall and tapped it with his knuckles. "Hardest part was learnin' them vines o' yers to stop tryin' to nibble on me, and not to get riled up when I was workin'. Good thing ye left me words on how to handle 'em."

I just nodded to this. This must have been a lot of trouble.

Without another word, I passed deeper into the house and accessed a trap door leading to the basement.

I conjured a magical light to hover above me, before, without much thought, jumped down.

"I swapped out the ladder, she's sturdy!" The dwarf commented behind me.

I took note of his words, but my attention was focused on the larger room down here.

It was what used to be my storage room, before I relocated most of my belongings to the cliff.

Expectedly, where once all sorts of outdated equipment and books stood, now there were only cobwebs and dust.

I also noticed the thick supporting beams and slabs installed all over the underground layer that, judging by their construction, weren't made by me. I would have used earth magic.

"There's a perfectly good lamp right here," Berg grumbled, taking the aforementioned lamp that was hanging on the wall next to the ladder, and coaxed the magical crystal to ignite, "Ye did well with the diggin' work. No leaks, no breaches, naught in all those years. I just reinforced 'em a bit to make sure yer magic wouldn't go fadin'."

I wisely decided not to mention that I didn't apply any enchantments to the ceiling or walls here, just hardened stone and some basic understanding of construction.

"I had no idea you knew how to work construction," I commented, approaching a proper stairway leading a level down, to where my main laboratory used to be located.

The dwarf followed.

"Not buildin' per se, but I used to work the mines when I was a lad, before I took up huntin'," Berg commented, good-naturally, as we started to descend, "Sorry 'tis dusty, but I decided against cleanin' this part up."

"It's of no import," I assured, "But it is still amusing to me," I mused, "You are known as the greatest warrior in this region, yet you were never trained by one."

The dwarf snorted humorously.

"Greatest Warrior? In my dreams, maybe. I got famous 'round here 'cause I was stubborn 'bout what I did. I was never the best, I reckon. Much less now."

The laboratory below was also empty. It was still an impressively large space, with enchantments on the floor still woven in, where mana-isolating elements used to be located. The stone shelves still seem to be in good shape.

I was pleasantly surprised by how dry it was here; it meant that nothing in the construction had failed and leaked.

"As for trainin'… Well, bein' a warrior is just about takin' hits and hittin' back. Ye don't need some fancy master to get the idea," He commented, watching as I approached one of the walls, "My uncle was a hunter, and I was one too when I was younger. But monsters 'round these mountains were always a tough lot, and sneakin' up on 'em was usually no good. Stickin' 'em full o' arrows 'til they dropped got borin' fast, cuz often as not, ye'd run out o' shafts and have to run while the beast was still breathin'. So, for as long as I can remember, I trained and trained, and trained. 'Til a good swing o' my axe could split boulders. Started takin' 'em down head-on after that. Then, first thing I knew, folk started callin' me a warrior. So that's what I am now."

I finished casting a spell, and the only enhanced wall parted, revealing a tunnel just tall enough for me to go through without crouching.

I glanced back towards Berg.

"Listening to you now, I would imagine a mindless brute in battle. This isn't what I remember of you." I remarked simply. "Do we perhaps view you differently?"

The dwarf waved me off.

"What I do outside a scrap is one thing, but in a fight, one thing I do well is hittin' hard and takin' the hits. I like it that way. Keep things simple, and ye can focus on actin' smart, choosin' where to hit hard and when. Mages, priests, hunters, or whoever else leans on magic… often enough, they get muddled in all those fancy tricks they can do, and end up gettin' punched in the face." He offered with a grin that I could only spot by the twitch of his thick beard.

I just invited him over with a gesture and headed into the tunnel leading to the underground vault. The main entrance to it was on the surface, but I designed it in such a way that it's easier to open from within.

"Knights, hunters, warriors, monks… There are a lot of other terms, depending on the region," I mused, as we walked, "But they boil down to the same thing. People who train their bodies past their natural limit, to the point when mana infuses their bodies, and they become supernaturally strong and fast. Every one of them still ends up using magic, just in different ways."

"Don't know about that," Berg responded clearly, "When my uncle trained me to be a hunter, there were plenty o'… well, spells in play. Simple ones. Hidin' yer scent, sharpnin' sight or hearin', that's magic, even if 'tis simplified so folk who didn't spend years meditatin' could grasp it." He said, walking behind me, "But warriors don't bother with none o' that."

"There are combat techniques," I argued, the idle conversation did help to pass some time, "It's practically the same thing."

"A mage would say that," The dwarf remarked drily, "Combat techniques ain't about thinkin' long and hard to conjure a fireball. 'Tis about trainin' yer body 'til yer energy moves without thinkin'. Ye swing yer axe, yer mana swings with ye, and whatever's in front gets cleaved. 'Tis simple and instinctive, a natural way o' things. To begin with, most warriors don't even know, or care, that mana's part of it."

I paused my stride for a second, Berg's words hitting me.

This was a perspective I never considered before. I perceived mana as something separate. To me, there are human capabilities, and there is mana that allows humans to go past them.

But in this world, mana was a natural part of any living being. Training your mana until it lashes out with your strikes… isn't very different from building up your muscles, is it? Both are what you can naturally achieve with conditioning.

"I suppose, warriors and mages are the opposites in how they develop," I commented, after a brief silence, "Mages take control of mana consciously, and build a complex system out of making it take the shape they need. Warriors simply condition their bodies, and their mana follows. Hunters, monks, and other sorts of trained combatants merely mix the two approaches together, with their own twists and tricks. I see your point, I suppose."

I approached the stone wall at the end of the corridor and started to shape another spell to open it.

"You are forgetting priests." Berg reminded.

I allowed the spell to settle, and watched the door start to move before responding.

"I am not. Outside of the religious component, Goddess's Magic is still magic. Requires similar training, uses up mana, it's just…" I paused, trying to find the right word: "A more complete and rigid system that requires a very particular inclination."

"Truth be told, I don't know the difference all that well myself." The man behind me commented as the wall finally slid to the side fully, clicking in place. "If ye say 'tis the same thing, it likely is."

For a while, we descended into comfortable silence.

I ascended the stairs that led from the laboratory level up to the ground level. The steps were narrow and cut from a dark, dense granite, showing the precise marks of the shaping spells I had used. Berg followed behind me, the sound of his heavy boots echoing in the confined space of the stairwell.

When I reached the top, the vault opened up before us. It was a single, very spacious room, built directly into the root of the mountain using earth magic. The walls and ceiling were composed of seamless, reinforced stone that had been smoothed to a dull, matte finish. The ceiling was arched, rising high into a darkness that my magical orb could not fully reach.

I might have built this place bigger than it had to be, as I overestimated the bulk of the items I had on hand.

The only sources of light were the magical orb hovering above my head and the magical lamp Berg carried. The cool white light from my spell and the warmer glow from the lamp reflected off the gray surfaces of the floor, creating shifting pools of radiance that failed to penetrate the far corners of the chamber.

The room was filled with rows of stone shelves. These were thick slabs of slate-gray rock, anchored into the floor and ceiling to form long, straight aisles across the floor. Most of these shelves were occupied by the books and rare grimoires that I had been unable to take with me when I originally left the region. The grimoires were heavy volumes bound in weathered, dark leather, some featuring brass clasps or faint, etched symbols on their covers. Beside them, the countless research journals were arranged in orderly rows, their dark spines bearing labels in my own handwriting, all numbered and signed for their contents.

In the spaces between the book aisles, I had placed the various pieces of magical study equipment that I used to use. Tarnished brass frameworks, heavy stone mortars, and arrays of thick glass tubes were stacked with care on the lower shelves. Some magical devices for stabilizing ambient mana, some trinkets with my early attempts at enchantments, clairvoyance, and other areas of magic, including the enchanted viewing mirror and a moon calendar that scryed the current phases of the night sky.

Further down the aisles, several sections were dedicated to preserved specimens. Round and rectangular glass containers held various types of flora and fauna in stasis. Some of the jars contained vibrant, unmoving leaves, while others held the pale forms of small creatures suspended in clear fluid.

Trophies from past encounters were also visible in the shifting light. Bleached skulls with long, curved horns, dried scales from various beasts, and segments of chitinous armor were arranged among the equipment. Minor enchanted items that I didn't make myself, but were given as a reward or a gift, or even scavenged from monster lairs, sat in small wooden crates or directly on the stone, their surfaces occasionally catching the light with a faint, metallic sheen.

A fine, uniform layer of dust covered everything, softening the edges of the jars and the spines of the books. The air was dry and cool, carrying the faint, musty scent of old paper and cold stone.

"Don't move," I advised the dwarf, before taking a second to form an unusually large dust-clearing spell.

I released it, allowing the invisible wave to pass through the distance, disintegrating every single particle of dirt.

"And here I thought only dragons had their hoards," Berg mused humorlessly, "Seemingly, they share their love for shiny trinkets with the pointy-ear folk."

"I did sell most of the things I never had use for," I defended myself, "What remains are either items with curious enchantments, books, or my own creations that are either amateurish, or wouldn't have held any value…" I paused, briefly considering the matter, "Or, at least, no one else would've found use for them before."

Who knows if they will gain popularity when the tomes about chimerology are published?

Shaking my head, I proceeded deeper into the vault, past the shelves and the stored items.

"I s'pose at the very least ye've enough here for that academy o' yers." The warrior mused, absent-mindedly.

I considered his words for a few long moments.

"I suppose some of the items here would be useful as study references," I acknowledged, "I would have to catalogue them all properly."

"I mean sellin' 'em," The dwarf voiced, "That idea o' yers sounds like 'twould cost a fair bit o' gold. And most o' yer riches from the Schattenbrand went into that monstrous carriage, didn't it? I doubt ye're swimmin' in coin right now."

I considered his words for a moment, disappointed a fair bit that he would offer such a thing.

"That's the issue, I suppose. You shouldn't doubt. It's been decades, I have the funds." I assured him quietly.

In truth, the expedition to Irem left me quite rich. When we discovered Irem, Lisch, and I had a conversation. I was against selling anything we found there. Grimoires and copies of books were one thing; I didn't mind parting with them, but the jewelry from the central parts of the city? Ornate weapons? Enchanted items? Even the unique, antique golden coins?

Those are historical artifacts of incredible value. Just selling them off like junk… was something I wanted to avoid at all costs.

Lisch convinced me that the coins didn't matter much, especially considering that the machine used to cast the coins was still preserved. He also convinced me that many of the less exceptional jewelry could be sold to private collections, where they would be treasures and cared for, and would make better use than gathering dust in Irem.

I eventually relented, finding no good arguments against his words, and Lisch departed Irem with a sizable amount of treasure, with what used to be a part of his share.

I, on my end, departed with a part of my share and spent some time in those decades finding respectable collectors I didn't mind selling the artifacts to.

The rediscovery of Irem was known to the world, thanks to the books we published. For the safety of the city itself, as well as the Heart and Lisch who stayed there, the location, or any events regarding the Sealing or King Barmherzig's research, were omitted. The lie was written about a natural disaster that killed the city. The book was published under the pseudonyms of 'L' and 'A', it featured detailed drawings of some of the artifacts, the city architecture, its history, its culture, and what we could find and scavenge.

So far, six different succeeding books have been published, expanding on one aspect of Irem or another. It has been quite a fun side-project to remember how to properly write historical articles. I found an odd, almost familiar fulfilment in this work, even if it was merely an echo of the excitement I could be feeling as I slotted together that ancient puzzle, and I think Lisch understood. Even if S thought we were wasting time on 'useless, unimportant trivia instead of working on things that actually matter', S still didn't mind being the test reader for our manuscripts. In essence, history became a hobby of sorts for all three of us.

It was regrettable that so much had to be concealed. Details about military campaigns and trade agreements Irem had, simply because it could disclose its location to potential 'explorers', as well as censoring of its late history… it was, without a doubt, an outright lie.

The type of lie I used to hate in historical works of my own world, too, as it was a lie to conceal uncomfortable facts. However, measuring this lie against the lives of the people within the Heart, who would be at risk were the location to be disclosed, made the right choice not a choice at all.

I will especially have to apologize to S' successor when the Heart issue would finally be solved.

But Irem aside, I accumulated a fair share of income on my travels through the Northern Lands. As a demon, I had little to spend money on; I only acquired items useful for my magic, which, while expensive, tended to be comparatively rare purchases. I did, however, slay many monsters, some of which had bounties in the regions I traveled through or stayed in, handed bandit bands to authorities, and brought in rare herbs and mushrooms for sale when I found them, and also sold surpluses of reagents of certain types if I had too many, not to mention loot I stumbled upon in some monster lairs. There were also those two dungeons I ended up exploring on my own. In other words, I did the work of an adventurer, even if without active contracts, and reaped comparative rewards without the money drain that was the travel expenses for humans.

My only constant expense was paper and ink. I didn't have to care about buying clothes, food, or a warm bed in a tavern, and those expenses are the majority of what adventurers spend their money on. Well, that, and repairs.

Finally, I approached the wall on the other side of the vault. Once again, I've woven a spell, and the floor parted, revealing a slowly rising pedestal.

"So that's why ye wanted that device made," Berg mused, observing the slowly rising metal box… that was essentially a strongbox. "Isn't that a bit o' overkill?" He wondered, as if to himself. "Not as if 'twould've protected the contents if someone actually broke in."

"It may be an overkill, yes," I shrugged, without turning around, "But the main purpose of this device is safe containment from the environment, not intruders."

I've woven another, much more complex template, and slotted it into the safe. The enchantment on it ignited briefly, and with the sound of clockwork mechanisms clicking and shifting, it started to open.

Inside, on a cushion, a sphere resided, fractured in three pieces by a shadow blade spell.

"Schattenbrand's heart, eh?" The dwarf noted, standing by my side, "Thought ye'd taken it with ye as a memento." He mused, before chuckling, "Looks just like I remember it."

Indeed, it was. The Schattenbrand's core, like the core of any monster, fundamentally was an energy construct. However, it also occupied physical space and was a physical object.

That is true for all monsters. A core of a demon, such as myself, occupied a physical heart made of mana-flesh. And a core of Schattenbrand occupied this sphere, made of the densest metals in its body.

It was quite rare for a monster's core to occupy a physical vessel that wouldn't crumble with the monster's death.

But Schattenbrand was a unique type of monster. Elementals, they are usually called. It didn't create artificial flesh around its core; instead, it inhabited a physical substance, magma, in its case.

I find the existence of elementals fascinating when I stumbled across them, but I couldn't ever study them properly. Too difficult to study, too rare, and generally, far too powerful or, at the very least, troublesome to contain. Besides, at the time, my focus was on the hearts of monsters similar to myself, so it wasn't worth pursuing this avenue of research.

I've still kept the solidified remains of the Schattenbrand core's vessel. Because there was lingering mana in it, traveling the pathways of where its heart used to be. My equipment at the time was insufficient to properly study and catalogue it, it simply wasn't advanced enough to pick up on mana-signature this thin and faded.

Now, however, I was equipped, and what's more important, this was precisely what I needed to finish my project.

"I am surprised you can recognize it that easily," I admitted, as I carefully closed the box that existed to protect the remaining mana in the core from being eroded, "Then again, I suppose it wasn't hard to guess either way."

Summoning a staff in my hand, I levitated the box up before glancing at Berg.

"Let's go. It is late, but the least I can do is offer you some tea, and maybe some stories." I proposed simply.

The dwarf once again smiled, judging by the twitch of his beard.

"And here I thought ye'd never ask."

***

Hanseln,

It was a pleasant day. The skies were clear, and the warm rays of the summer sun shone down; the city of Sturmkamm was as vibrant as ever.

The white granite thoroughfare was smooth under Hanseln's boots, polished by constant traffic. Brightly colored laundry dangled from timber balconies overhead, and the morning light caught the spray of a nearby fountain where children were splashing. As they walked, the crowd grew thicker; merchants in fine wools brushed past laborers, and the air smelled of grilled sausages.

Hanseln kept his pace steady, his eyes scanning the windows and alleyways of the upper terrace. Sturmkamm was loud, but it was the sound of a city with plenty of coin and even more to do. Above the rooftops, the jagged peaks of the valley walls stood sharp against the blue, and the clouds lazily drifted across the sky.

"...and that's exactly my point," Schwätzer was saying, gesturing broadly with a hand that spent more time in the air than by his side. "You can't trust blue eyes, Hanseln. Not when they're that particular shade."

"You said the same thing about brown eyes last month," Hanseln replied, stepping around a group of passing flower vendors without looking at his companion. "And green eyes the month before that. Maybe stop trying to find patterns where there are none?"

"This time I have proof." Schwätzer adjusted his guard mantle, though it immediately slipped back into a rakish, unbuttoned state. He quickened his pace to keep up with Hanseln's longer stride. "The girl from the Copper Pot tavern, the brewer's niece. Blue as a glacial lake, those eyes. You see eyes like that and you think, 'Ah, here is a soul as calm and refreshing as a spring morning.'"

Hanseln finally glanced sideways at him, one eyebrow slightly raised. "And?"

"Wrong! Absolutely wrong!" Schwätzer threw his arms wide, nearly clipping a passing merchant. He let out a long, theatrical sigh that seemed to deflate his entire chest. "I told her she had the grace of a mountain goat on the high crags. A compliment, right? Sturdy, sure-footed, majestic! Besides, she's a dwarven lass, they love that!"

"I somehow doubt that," Hanseln said, his voice carrying a note of dry amusement. He kept his eyes forward, but his shoulders relaxed slightly.

Schwätzer's hands dropped to his sides, his face genuinely perplexed. "Well, I know that now. She dumped a pint of her uncle's stout right down my neck. Ruined my favorite gambeson."

"Don't you only have the one I gifted you?" Hanseln recalled, he commissioned it on his behalf before last year's Emberwake Festival, knowing Schwätzer had some trouble paying off his equipment.

"Which is what I am saying!" Schwätzer huffed, nearly tripping over a loose paving stone as he tried to maintain eye contact while walking. He recovered with a small hop, pointing an accusing finger at Hanseln. "Apparently, women in this city have grown far too refined for honest flattery. And then she has the nerve to tell me I talk too much! Can you believe it? Me?"

Hanseln's head tilted slightly, his tone perfectly flat. "Shocking."

Schwätzer narrowed his eyes, leaning forward as they walked. "You're doing that thing where you pretend to agree, but you're actually mocking me."

"Dear friend of mine, if you genuinely believe for a second that this was a pretense, and not a clear-cut sarcasm, you have my most sincere condolences," Hanseln said, his tone mild but serious. "You do talk too much. And comparing women to livestock is exactly why you keep getting drinks thrown at you, or worse. At least this time around, you weren't chased around the district with a battle axe."

"Mountain goats aren't livestock, I will have you know! They're noble creatures, practically the symbol of Sturmkamm!" Schwätzer's voice rose in genuine indignation, his hands flying up again. A passing woman gave them both a wide berth. "Were you talking with my sister behind my back again? She said the same nonsense. Said I probably deserved it." His shoulders slumped slightly, voice dropping to a more plaintive tone. "Three days, Hanseln. For three days, I could smell the malt on my collar."

Hanseln stopped walking for a moment, turning to face his friend fully. His expression grew more serious, though his eyes held a glint of mischief. "The issue is not with the goats, your sister, or the lasses in the city, Schwätzer, it's that you can't help but put your foot in your mouth every time you try to talk to a woman you fancy."

Hanseln sighed.

"Your lack of understanding why comparing a dame, any dame, to an animal is a poor idea is the main reason why even the most open-minded lady would struggle to appreciate you."

The man paused, frowning as he searched for the right words. His fingers drummed against his sword hilt - a habit when he was thinking.

"You're like a... what's the word..." He glanced sideways at Schwätzer, who was already opening his mouth to protest. "An ass. That's it. Stubborn as an ass, and with a foresight to match."

The words hung between them for a moment. Schwätzer blinked, processing, while Hanseln seemed to realize what he'd just said.

"Wait, I didn't mean…" Hanseln started, color rising slightly in his face.

But Schwätzer was already grinning, that particular expression that meant he'd found an angle. "An ass, am I?" He made an exaggerated gesture toward his belt. "Well then, let me show you-"

"For the love of… keep your pants on," Hanseln groaned, quickening his pace to put distance between them, though his shoulders were shaking slightly.

Schwätzer jogged to catch up, still working through potential comebacks. Finally, he just huffed and fell into step beside his friend.

"That was terrible," he muttered, though he was fighting a smile.

"Yet you're the one who tried to drop your trousers in the street," Hanseln pointed out, not quite hiding his own amusement.

Schwätzer shook his head.

"But a question in good faith o' captain of mine, if you're so damn wise about how to treat a lady, how come you're still walking these streets with nothing but a sword for company? Seriously," he shifted, his voice losing the theatrical edge for a moment, "The youngest captain in the Valley Guard to date, and even with a woman like Greifen practically throwing herself at your boots... why are you still so tragically single?"

Schwätzer brought his hands up, fingers spread as if trying to physically grasp the concept. After a few seconds of awkward silence, his hands dropped in defeat, and he simply looked at his friend with genuine bewilderment as they continued down the street.

Hanseln's first instinct was to brush Schwätzer off, but... he could hear the honest curiosity, without the usual bantering edge. They'd been friends long enough - through different unit assignments, through that fateful border skirmish that had catapulted Hanseln up the ranks while Schwätzer stayed behind. And for all his chatter, Schwätzer had never once let slip anything he shouldn't have through all those years they knew each other.

"...you are aware that I am her commanding officer, right?" He asked tiredly, glancing back at his friend a bit wearily, "Relationships of those sorts don't look well for anyone involved… and can compromise the unit cohesion." Hanseln was almost ready to end the conversation at that, but it was Schwätzer's perceptive, attentive gaze that made him pause instead, hesitating.

"Greifen is a nice woman. Capable and not bad looking at all," He admitted quietly, "But in truth, she isn't exactly my type, and I have enough of a conscience not to sleep with her, damning the consequences, just because she is pretty enough." Hanseln shared, "I think she deserves better. I just wish she would get a clue."

Which was starting to turn into a little bit of a problem. Greifen's attention was mostly subtle, and she started to show it just a month or two ago, so Hanseln hoped the woman would leave him be.

But at this rate, he will have to let her down directly.

"And what sort of woman are you looking for, then?" Schwätzer asked simply. "I can't imagine you, with your rank and hereditary title, would have trouble pursuing anyone."

Hanseln was quiet for a long moment, watching a flock of pigeons scatter from a nearby rooftop as someone shook out a rug. The birds wheeled overhead before settling on the copper gutters of the bathhouse across the street.

"You really want to know?" He finally asked, sidestepping a puddle of wash water someone had just thrown from a window above. "Fine. But if you laugh, I'll find a way to make you suffer on duty."

Schwätzer made a solemn gesture across his chest. "Knight's honor."

Hanseln, being the actual knight, decided not to comment on that.

"I like them decently tall," He admitted simply. "Not mannish, and not too well-built. A woman with a softness to her, and enough curves to hold onto." He kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the stones. "The lads at the barracks go mad for anyone with a pair of tits, very much including the ladies serving with us, but I don't like the body type."

"Terrible taste, my friend," Schwätzer said imperiously, nodding along as if he were a connoisseur of fine arts who was inspecting a piece. "But do continue."

"And I want someone who can't hide what they're thinking to save their life," Hanseln continued, surprising himself with how easily the words came. "Someone whose face shows everything they're feeling. You know the type... they try to keep composure, but then something surprises them, and they're red as autumn apples." Hanseln smiled, "The type who would be fun to tease… and share moments with."

A donkey cart loaded with firewood forced them to press against a shop wall. The driver nodded in thanks as he passed.

"So, our knight wants a princess, is that it?" Schwätzer asked, amused.

Hanseln just sighed.

"Very funny. No, I am not quite that delusional yet," He shook his head. "I have enough trouble wrestling with our organization's finances as is; I would very much wish my woman not to bring more politics down on me. No, I would like a woman who is competent in what she does and has her passions. Preferably, a professional in some craft. Just not…" He gestured at himself, "This."

And that was that. It's not that Hanseln couldn't appreciate a woman who trained and whose body had some muscles, but it just wasn't his preferred type.

He also preferred his woman nowhere near physical danger.

"Wait, that's it? Why did you make it sound as if you were searching for an elven maiden?" Schwätzer asked, sounding genuinely bewildered, "There are plenty of ladies like that all around Sturmkamm, no?"

"I am yet to meet the right one, then," Hanseln said, feeling just a tad bit self-conscious.

The morning training sessions, the endless paperwork, the patrols that stretched late into the night - when was he supposed to find time for romance? He was barely over twenty-five; surely the right woman would just... appear eventually.

Even thinking it, he knew how faulty that logic was.

"Well," Schwätzer started, sounding thoughtful, "Captain of mine, I don't know about all of your preferences, but did you try looking for an acceptable lass amongst dwarven ladies?"

They took a turn, now practically hugging the outer wall as they walked.

"Schwätzer, I am saying this as your friend, and not your captain, but kindly bugger off with your dwarven lady fixation." He asked sincerely.

"Spoken like a man lacking in imagination," Schwätzer fired back, "I would have you know I appreciate female form, regardless of its origin! Northerner, southern, dwarf, maybe even an elf, as long as she is charming, I don't mind!" He boasted, but how serious he was, as always, was the real question.

Hanseln shook his head, his eyes grazing across the caravan yard near the main gates, routinely checking the guards' positions while on duty, who seemed to be busy interrogating a hooded figure driving a carriage with familiar golems, then moved towards the rest of the lower market square…

"Well, the chances of either of us seeing an elven woman…" Hanseln paused; something wasn't right.

He took a double-take, glancing back towards the familiar golems.

"Speaking of…" He glanced at Schwätzer, "You go ahead, Schweigsam probably waits for you after your last posting," He addressed his friend, changing his course towards the gates, "I have something to do…"

Approaching, Hanseln easily recognized the familiar figure of the legendary hermit, who was calmly listening to one of the city guards, whom Hanseln didn't know personally, explain something to him heatedly.

Soon enough, he heard him just fine.

"...and I am telling you again, even if there are no laws about those… things!" He gestured at the golems, "They clearly can't be allowed into the city! They will damage the road for one!"

The elf spoke up then, his voice, just like Hanseln remembered, emotionless.

"They won't deal any damage to the road," He responded simply, "They are designed to traverse difficult terrain, including swamps and frozen-over lakes. Proper weight distributions to not break anything under their feet is essential; they won't cause any more damage than a horse would." The elf paused after his explanation, before tilting his head, "That being said, I understand your concerns. I will leave the carriage and golems outside."

"Good that we settled that. But let us see what you are transporting first, mage," Treu, a man Hanseln recognized, spoke up, "Unwichtig, his face looks familiar, and I know he isn't local. Go take a look at the wanted posters…"

It was at this point Hanseln was close enough to interrupt.

"That won't be necessary." He spoke simply.

Everyone present to the side of the gates, where the drama was unfolding, turned towards him, and it took station guards just over two seconds to give him a brief salute.

"Captain!"

"Sir!"

"Sir Hanseln," Treu spoke up, nodding to him firmly, looking him up and down, "You are off duty," He noted, which was an easy observation to make, considering Hanseln only had his sword on him; the rest of his equipment was back in the Guardhouse. "Am I missing something here?"

Hanseln chuckled, nodding to the sergeant.

"You do," He explained simply, gesturing at Albert, "His face looks familiar because it's on the statue of the main square. Allow me to introduce you to Albert, better known as the Legendary Hermit." He gestured at the elf, much to the confusion and then shock of the guards present.

The mage just sighed.

"This nickname is abhorrent." The comment was quite enough to be barely audible. But, as if understanding the idea, he threw the hood back, revealing this eerily youthful face of his.

The men exchanged glances and a few bewildered words; Treu himself looked a bit taken aback.

"That's…" Treu was one of the city guards, not a hunter, nor was he part of the valley guard, so his confusion and hesitation were understandable to Hanseln.

"Albert, if you don't mind clarifying, what's the purpose of your visit? Are you here to buy some supplies or instruments?" Hanseln asked out of honest curiosity, hoping it will have to shed some light on the situation.

"No," The mage denied simply, meeting his own eyes, "I wanted to take a look around the city. Much must have changed, including the places where I used to buy items and services," He explained simply, before glancing briefly at the cart he was sitting on, "I simply took this in case I would need to buy something." Hanseln could barely spot it, but under the hood, the man's eyebrows furrowed, "I wasn't anticipating golems to raise so many concerns. When you escorted me into the city two days ago, nothing of that sort ever happened, nor did I generally encounter questionings like this in my travels."

It was the hint of honest puzzlement in the ancient man's voice that took Hanseln aback a little bit.

"In all your travels, no one ever was concerned about gigantic magical creatures dragging your cart?" He asked, honestly quite bewildered.

"Yes," Albert agreed simply, before elaborating, "I traveled extensively across Northern Lands, and never was questioned for the golems, though when I was traveling with Behemoth, searches were frequent." He explained simply.

It was Treu who spoke up before Hanseln could.

"With all due… ehem, respect… sir," The man clearly wasn't sure how to address a man whom he just recently was trying to pressure, and who also turned out to be a legendary mage who single-handedly killed a mythical creature, "We aren't the Northeners. Those are civilized lands, with proper laws, and when people see things like that…" He gestured at the golems, who looked quite harmless, really, made of dark stones, covered in symbols, and possessing stubby legs and small arms without digits, "They tend to get concerned. Which causes issues."

Albert considered him for a moment; it was impossible to say what he was thinking by his blank stare.

Seeing Treu get nervous and unwilling to see a guard being possibly struck by lightning, Hanseln stepped forward.

"It's something to keep in mind, that said, there are already rumors that you are back, and I believe exceptions would be made on your behalf," Hanseln offered diplomatically, "So there shouldn't be a problem…"

Albert considered him for a moment before glancing at Treu questioningly.

"'Suppose it's fine, if the captain confirms your identity." The man admitted.

The elf nodded at that.

"Sorry for taking up your time in that case," He addressed the guards, glancing across them, "And thank you, Hanseln."

Without any movement from the mage, the carriage started to move, prompted by the golems who burst into motion from rest, slowly walking across.

For a moment, Hanseln considered the retreating legendary mage.

Throughout the mountain region, the Hermit was a staple of the folk tales children grew up with.

Hanseln could personally recall fifteen or so anecdotes and stories involving him. Five of which were clearly not meant for children. 

When he asked Berg which ones were true, the dwarf just laughed at him. A lot.

Needless to say, Hanseln was curious about the real man. That same curiosity had driven their meeting two days ago, and it was why he'd ultimately followed the man back to the tavern.

The man in the flesh was nothing like what the stories were, but also, in an odd way, still recognizable.

The stories painted The Hermit as either a tragic hero, scarred by his long life, or a grim, aloof… well, hermit, who, beneath the unfriendliness, always acted with good intent at heart, even if he despised being disturbed.

Even as he met him… well, Hanseln couldn't exactly call either of the versions wrong just yet. Frankly, the man was still an enigma. His conduct and resolve seemed practically unshakable; the man's face was seemingly carved from stone… it was just surprising how youthful that face was. He knew The Hermit was said to be an elf, but he expected elves to stop aging when they looked, well, in their late twenties, not like Albert, who hardly looked like a boy who just recently became a man.

His brief talk with Berg did prove the two to be good friends who knew each other well. Hanseln had trouble recalling when his old mentor was this happy the last time.

Yet, the man himself was still an enigma. What sort of life did an immortal elf, capable of slaying a mythical creature, lead? Why did he leave Sturmkamm? Why did he decide to return now and build a magical academy of all things?

So many questions, especially regarding what Albert was planning now that he had returned to the Donnergipfel Mountain Range once more.

Berg was also a hero of the region; he was just as well-known as The Hermit, but the main difference was that The Hermit's figure was always much more mysterious and less known; practically everything about him oozed questions.

Which was why, ultimately, Hanseln decided that in this off-day, he will indulge in his curiosity for once and will try to get to know the figure from his childhood a little bit more.

Hurriedly, he jogged after the carriage and, once even with it, spoke up.

"Excuse me, Albert," The man turned his face towards him, and the cart slowed down almost instantly, "I was thinking I can offer you my service to show you around the city. Much must have changed for you, and I know the city quite well."

The elf considered him for a moment before standing up, moving a bit, and waving him over.

Not needing to be asked twice, Hanseln easily jumped onto the carriage before sitting down.

It was a bit awkward on the coachman's seat together; it was clearly designed for one person in mind.

"Thank you. For your help back at the gates, and your offer to show me around," The mage said after the carriage resumed movement.

Hanseln merely shook his head.

"I barely did anything, saved you some time at most. Chances are, you would've easily cleared any misunderstanding once your identity had been established." The knight commented honestly. And it's not like proving his identity would have been too challenging; the rumors that The Hermit returned were firmly… well, around, now. "As for showing you around the city, it's not the worst way to spend an hour or a few, and besides, if you want to get acquainted with the city, you'll likely want me to show you around marketplaces, and I have some things I was meaning to buy today in any case."

Mostly, some magical ore to fuel the lanterns, which he could've bought anywhere, but that's the part Hanseln decided to hold out for politeness.

"In situations like this," The elf spoke up seemingly absent-mindedly, as he studied the streets in front of him, "I am usually told to just accept the gratitude, instead of trying to justify how it was no trouble on my part." The man glanced at him, a small smile playing on his lips. "Needless to say, I understand."

The knight wasn't sure how to react, mostly due to the completely flat delivery.

Was this… a joke? Or a genuine awkward expression of empathy?

"Still, I believe, those guardsmen at the gates were aiming for a bribe, from what I understand of such things," Albert spoke up again.

Hanseln considered his words for a moment, frowning.

"Possibly." While the Valley Guard, those who actually did patrols and manned outposts and watchtowers, rarely had opportunities or causes to take bribes… the city guards were another matter. Hanseln understood that much. He also wasn't young or naive enough to make a big deal out of it, as long as the corruption was subtle enough not to become an outspoken problem. "But I doubt that's true in this case. Too public a place, too many people around."

The mage seemed to consider his words before nodding.

He gestured ahead and a bit to the right with his finger.

"There was a shop here, back when I used to live in the region. Ink of a Feather, is it still there?" Albert asked, making Hanseln blink, before glancing in the direction he was pointing.

It seemed… fairly deep into the city.

"Is it past the second wall?" He tried.

The mage nodded. That too was expected, Stummkram city… changed considerably over the last five decades, growing into a proper city, for one.

Hanseln genuinely tried to recall such a place.

"I don't know. There are many shops in the city." He finally admitted.

The elven mage merely nodded.

"Let us check then. Afterwards, you can show me to a good shop that sells such supplies now."

That served the knight just fine.

The next few hours gave Hanseln some food for thought.

Sitting beside Albert on the narrow coachman's bench, he found himself observing how differently the city revealed itself to someone who'd last seen it fifty years ago.

When they passed a bathhouse, Albert would gesture slightly, and the golems would slow, allowing him to study a place he remembered differently. The Ink of a Feather shop was located here before, apparently. When Hanseln pointed out the Merchant's Guild's new headquarters on their way to the old town, the elf merely nodded without showing any emotion.

They traveled mostly in silence. The Hermit, true to his name, wasn't for idle conversation apparently, perhaps he merely found the silence comforting, maybe he felt there was nothing for them to talk about. But it took the knight one attempt to initiate small talk to realize the man beside him wasn't very interested.

The experience of riding with him was also interesting; Hanseln couldn't honestly tell he had ever been in a carriage driven by golems before. Said golems responded to unseen commands, occasionally turning into streets that proved too narrow, sometimes driving into dead ends. Hanseln believed he knew the city decently well, but he had never driven a carriage through it before, and even he didn't know every sideroad… which seemed where the hermit knew a lot of shops back in the day.

It should have been frustrating, but Hanseln found himself oddly comfortable. Resting from the morning training he did before heading out, and he saw some side streets he've never been to since childhood.

It was a bit of a letdown how the hermit reacted. There was nothing. Just that same careful attention he seemed to give everything.

Near the fountain square, Hanseln spotted the children first. Four of them, that dangerous age where every young man had more energy than sense. They ran alongside the carriage shouting about the Behemoth and magic… which was a famous tale, that the hermit can not be found somewhere far away, driving a cart manned by golems. It was a surprise that such things were still known to children, at least to the knight.

Hanseln was already preparing his guard captain voice when Albert simply stopped the golems.

Hanseln watched him reach into his cloak, pulling out a plain, weathered leather pouch from a pocket on the left side. As the elf paid for honey cakes from a nearby stall, Hanseln noticed a second, identical pouch tucked into a similar pocket on the right side of the mage's mantle. Albert counted out a few silver coins from the left-side bag, distributed the cakes, and requested the children let him attend to his business. He brushed off questions and pleading eyes with practice, but surprisingly gentle ease, elaborating why he was busy and why he didn't have time for them. Hanseln found himself surprised, expecting… anything but this.

The children, still curious but well bribed, vanished, and when Albert climbed back up, Hanseln could have sworn he saw satisfaction in the set of his shoulders

The market district was worse with the carriage moving so slowly, and Albert clearly being dressed in an expensive, silken cloak. Vendors had time to spot them and keep pace, calling out the usual exaggerations.

Silk that would last forever, brass blessed by mountain spirits, leather from exotic beasts that probably never existed. One old man actually teared up describing his poverty, though Hanseln could see his well-fed belly and the gold tooth when he smiled.

Albert would respond to the loudest and most insistent ones with some variation of asking them not to lie, said in the same tone he might use to observe the weather.

Most just moved on to the next target, though a few seemed genuinely thrown off by the lack of anger or haggling. One woman paused mid-pitch about her definitely-not-glass gemstones, shrugged, and turned to harass a pair of miners instead. The old man with the tears just added orphaned nephews to his tale and tried the carriage behind them.

The wooden figurines stall was where Albert actually stopped the carriage completely, which told Hanseln they'd be losing time. The vendor was younger than most, maybe thirty, and had the hands for it. Real carpenter's hands, not merchant's hands. While Albert climbed down to examine the pieces, Hanseln caught enough of their conversation to understand the usual story. Bigger workshops, cheaper labor from the valleys, nowhere to set up proper tools anymore.

The figurines weren't bad work, from what the knight could see. Bears, mountain cats, the occasional attempt at a human form. Albert picked up each one and turned it over with the same attention he'd given to those expensive inks in the shop Hanseln brought him to earlier, asking questions about wood grain and some carving techniques, he believed.

To Hanseln's surprise, the elf bought a dozen pieces. This time, Albert reached for the right inner pocket, retrieving the identical pouch Hanseln had spotted earlier. He paid the man in gold. When the merchant tried to say it was too much, Albert merely told him that he did good work, and he believed that's what it was worth.

Hanseln elected not to comment on it as they continued on the journey, but the knight thought he understood his companion a little better.

The city and the occasional shop stops began to blur together for Hanseln. He would wait with the carriage while Albert disappeared inside, the man usually bought nothing, merely inspected the quality of the wares for 'future reference', as he said.

The man was truly odd, and Hanseln couldn't help but wonder if that's how a man untouched by age would behave. If that's how Hanseln himself would behave, were he blessed or cursed to live a life unconstrained by age.

There was no melancholy in Albert's actions or rare words, no longing gazes, no hesitation when another shop he, apparently, used to frequent turned out not to exist anymore; he merely moved on.

Emotionless, that's how the man could be called at first glance. But his attitude betrayed way too much care for a man who was untouched by the life happening around him.

Hour turned to two, and the exploration of the city continued, until, finally…

"The Enchantress?" Hanseln asked, a bit surprised by Albert's question, before nodding slowly, "I mean… yes, they are still open. Just a street away actually. It's the biggest shop for magical items in the city. The enchanters' guild operating from it is incredibly well-known professionals; there are often orders from outside the Donnergipfel Region that they take." It was a big point of pride for the Stummkram City; some big names amongst Central Lands' nobility requested orders from here, and most adventurers who truly had the money and fame for it. Which is why it threw the knight for a loop when the hermit asked 'Are they still open?'.

Outside of the top-tier equipment in forms of armour and weapons, this was the biggest export of the valley, now that the main mine was harder to develop.

Now that Hanseln thought of it, they had been operating for a while, weren't they?

"I see," Albert nodded, emotionless as ever, "Hopefully they still do good work."

This was… certainly a sentence.

"Did you use to commission a lot of enchantments from them?" Hanseln couldn't help but ask. The Hermit, as he found out, didn't mind questions like that too much.

The knight suspected that either the man was more social than he demonstrated, or he tolerated the questions as a payment for a tour. He wasn't certain which just yet.

"Initially, I did order some custom work," He admitted simply, "But no, soon enough the items I needed became far too specialized for anyone else to help me produce. I acquired a good amount of grimoires through them, as well as books on magical topics." He paused, glancing at Hanseln, "Those are incredibly hard to find normally." He clarified with some care, as Hanseln, for one, had no way to know that.

The knight nodded.

"I see. I think The Enchantress might have… grown a bit beyond what you were used to?" He tried, not sure how to phrase that.

"Truly?" The mage turned his face to him in full. "That's good, I-"

The crash cut through whatever Albert was about to say.

Ahead, where the street opened into Cathedral Square, a wagon loaded with what looked like mining equipment had lost a wheel. The whole thing tipped sideways in that slow, inevitable way heavy things fall, spilling crates and tools across the cobblestones. The draft horses were screaming, still tangled in their traces.

Hanseln was off the carriage before he'd properly thought about it, Albert right behind him. The square was busy at this hour, people scrambling back from the spreading mess of timber and iron. The wagon driver was shouting something about his partner still being trapped underneath.

"Help me with these," Hanseln called to the gathering crowd, grabbing the nearest crate. Heavy, probably filled with ore samples or tools. A few men stepped forward to help, but Hanseln could already tell, most of the boxes were too heavy for quick removal without making even more weight press down on the man beneath, and the angle made everything worse. They could all hear someone groaning from beneath the overturned wagon bed.

"Move back," Albert said quietly, staff at hand.

Hanseln turned to argue they needed more hands, not fewer, but stopped when he saw the hermit's expression. Not concentration exactly, just that same careful attention he gave everything.

After a second of hesitation, he did as asked.

The elf pointed his staff.

The wagon lifted.

Not with any visible effort. It simply rose two feet off the ground and hung there, crates and all, as if gravity had politely agreed to wait.

The trapped man, a young laborer with blood running from his scalp, was curled against the cobblestones where the wagon's edge had pinned him.

"Move aside, everyone move aside!" He bellowed, making sure people wouldn't crowd.

Hanseln hurried towards him, checking the man for injuries. He wasn't in a very good shape. A head injury, and a leg was fractured, judging by the bone sticking through the skin.

"The cathedral," Hanseln said, considering how to carefully pick the man up, "We need a priest." He spared a glance towards his companion…

The carriage was standing to the side, all the boxes stacked back in place, and he caught Albert gently coaxing a still somewhat nervous horse to calmness; the man broke eye contact briefly, nodding towards him.

"Let us go," He turned briefly towards his own carriage, gesturing towards the golems, the symbols on whom blared bright blue for a moment, before they seemed to have… retracted into themselves.

Hanseln got his arms under the injured man, lifting him with the practiced ease. The laborer was conscious but dazed, mumbling about needing to save the cargo.

"Your cargo's fine," Hanseln told him, starting toward the cathedral steps. "Worry about your head."

It was in that state that they hurried towards the church.

The central cathedral of the city was a relatively grand building, built to accommodate the vast number of people living in the old town. Its facade was a masterwork of gleaming white stone, defined by soaring pointed arches and intricate stone tracery that reached toward the heavens. Slender, ribbed spires and delicate flying buttresses gave the massive structure a sense of weightless elegance, while beautiful mosaic windows of colored glass cast kaleidoscopic light across the interior.

Hanseln adjusted his grip on the laborer, the man's weight starting to pull at his shoulders as they reached the heavy oak doors. He was already bracing to shout for the doors to be opened, his chest expanding to draw a breath, when he felt a sudden, faint shift in the air.

Without the expected clang of iron or the scrape of heavy wood, the cathedral's massive doors simply drifted inward. They moved with an eerie, silent smoothness, as if a gentle tide had pushed them.

He recalled then that a man was moving by his side.

"Healers! I need someone who can cast Goddess' Magic!" Hanseln's voice boomed through the high-arched space, his boots echoing sharply on the polished granite. The cool scent of old wax and incense hit him, as did the sheer silence without the constant sounds of the city.

They hurried through the great nave, passing the long rows of oak pews where several worshippers knelt in prayer, their figures shadowed in the dim, colored light. Hanseln kept his pace fast, the laborer's blood beginning to soak through his sleeve, warm against his skin.

The acolyte led them into a side corridor where the air grew cooler, and the vastness of the nave fell away. The hallway was lined with several plain, heavy doors, and their footsteps rang out sharply against the stone. At the far end, near a larger door leading to the sanctum, an older priest stood speaking with a woman wrapped in a dark shawl.

Seeing the bloodied man in Hanseln's arms, the priest's face tightened with immediate urgency. He waved the woman aside and shoved the door to the sanctum open.

"In here, quickly!" he urged, stepping aside to let them pass before calling into the room. "Fromm! We have an emergency here! I need you in the healing sanctum!"

Once they arrived, the priest named Fromm met them there, quickly demanded that the wounded man to be placed on a bed, and, after requesting them to step aside, started to perform the miracle.

Hanseln could finally breathe out in relief, glancing towards the mage who accompanied him.

Albert took down his hood a while back it seems and merely studied the priest whose hands were shining green over the head injury, his expression unreadable as ever.

The elf then glanced at Hanseln.

"I suppose we should go?" He asked. The knight couldn't tell if that was a genuine question, because he wasn't sure what to do, or a request, perhaps. With the man's emotionless tone, reading him proved to be remarkably troublesome.

"No reason for us to crowd this place," Hanseln agreed, glancing around a little. "He is in good hands."

The church of the Goddess often enough tended to extreme fresh wounds like this, and as such, a big part of the cathedral's sanctum was dedicated to makeshift beds for the wounded to rest.

That said, generally, visits to the church for healing were expected to be brief, and outside of truly serious injuries, there were specific hours for such things.

Right now wasn't one such hour, which made this sanctum mostly empty.

Even the acolyte who accompanied them here left.

Albert was the first to start walking back, before addressing Hanseln, much to his surprise.

"The man will likely be fine. If there is internal bleeding, the Goddess's Magic will easily handle it." The elf explained, "The fracture may be harder to heal depending on the priest's skill, but it will still accelerate the healing process tremendously, and his leg is in no danger."

The knight found the attempt to reassure him humorous, though he tried not to show it.

"You seem knowledgeable on the subject," Hanseln couldn't resist prompting the unusually talkative man for some more information, especially seeing that they had some time, "Are you perhaps proficient in Goddess's Magic yourself?"

"Hardly," Albert said, as they exited the sanctum and started to walk across a corridor, "There are many magics I wish to study, were I to have some time for them, this isn't one of them."

Now, it wasn't the first time Hanseln had heard the frustration about trying to learn a spell from a scripture, but it was the first time he remembered someone disliking the magic by itself.

"Why?" He couldn't help but wonder, "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Albert paused in the corridor, turning to Hanseln and measuring him with a long look. Not too far behind Albert, Hanseln could see the woman talking to a priest, even if he couldn't pick anything up from so far away.

"Are you sure you want me to explain?" The elf asked emotionlessly, "I don't mind, but I am not sure how satisfying the answer will be for you."

The way he phrased this was as odd as most things this man did. Were it anyone else, Hanseln would've assumed he was being brushed off politely, but by this point, he had a suspicion that wasn't the case.

"It's an idle curiosity," Hanseln admitted, "But I am curious, yes."

Albert simply nodded, seemingly considering something for a few seconds.

"It's not that I underestimate the spells themselves, or believe them to be weak. It's not that." The elf spoke up slowly, clearly picking his words carefully, "But the underlying philosophy of the design behind Goddess' Magic infuriates me." He measured Hanseln with a look, "Have you ever tried your hand at learning any of the spells from the scriptures?"

The knight nodded simply, confused about where the other man was taking this.

"Most did when they were children, I'd imagine," He admitted simply, "But unlike some simple folk spells I learned back then, this proved far too complex for me. Priests said you need a very specific aptitude to learn the Goddess's miracles."

"The spells in the scripture are complex, and the priest you speak of told you the truth," The legendary mage inclined his head just a bit. "Complex and rigid, that's what the spells from the scriptures are. Unchangeable. Magic usually is modular; it has components you can change around, adapt, and tweak, without collapsing the whole structure of the original spell. Normal magic is also comprehensible; you can tell which parts of the spell cause which effect," Albert explains slowly, seemingly trying to make sure Hanseln understood, "The Goddess's Magic is not. Every single component in that spell is tied to every other component. Each Goddess' Magic spell is an incredibly complex whole. You either shape the spell exactly as decreed, or it fails. It's impossible to make sense of, impossible to adapt for any other use, it is eerily perfect, and beyond just complex, it is incomprehensible if you try to study it and make sense of how it does what it does." The Hermit explains, folding arms on his chest and briefly glancing behind his back, "Goddess's Magic is clearly still magic; it obeys the same rules, shaped by the same energy… those spells are merely created so perfectly that their creator must have been able to think in a fundamentally different way compared to human beings. It's for that reason you need to keep a copy of the scripture on you while casting, a human can't memorize spells this complex perfectly, because of the precision they demand, so you need to keep scanning the mana-traced diagrams in the holy book… essentially, if a normal spell requires you to draw, Goddess Magic requires you to trace a blueprint with no deviation.." The elf looked Hanseln in the eye. "This is why I dislike this magic. It is arrogant of me, but spells too complex to contribute anything to the development of magic is infuriating to work with. It's a dead end, a tool incapable of contributing to the creation of better tools. And it was designed to be this way on purpose."

Albert delivered all of that perfectly emotionelessly.

"I understand that my view would be offensive to people of the cloth," He added, his voice just as even, "But I mean no disrespect to the faith people hold in the Goddess; it's a deeply personal issue and annoyance, fundamentally irrational and caused by my own professional work. Much like how a horse-riding enthusiast would be annoyed with a perfectly bred horse whose knees buckle once someone tries to mount it, I can't stomach those spells. Trying to learn one was maddening, I too, lack the right aptitude to mindlessly repeat a function of a mechanism in trying to copy a spell." The elf ceased speaking, studying Hanseln's response.

In truth, the knight didn't know how to respond. If he were to be honest, not very knowledgeable in either magic or the scriptures, hearing this was simply interesting to him.

It was odd to hear a man profess such profound dislike while showing none of it whatsoever.

Still, this was an interesting insight.

"You must really love magic," Hanseln noted, "To care so deeply."

Albert blinked, considering him for a few seconds.

His lips curved a little, outlining a smile.

"Somewhat. I've been told I may be fond of it." The elf then, to Hanseln's surprise, glanced back toward the woman… who seemed to be hotly arguing with a priest, judging by her active gesticulation.

"Excuse me for a moment," Albert said, before heading toward the arguing priest.

Hanseln hesitated for only a heartbeat before following. The hermit's sudden interest made him curious, and besides, if there was trouble brewing in the cathedral, it was arguably his duty as a guard captain to be aware of it.

As they approached, the woman's voice became clearer, though she was clearly trying to keep it low. She was perhaps thirty, with the callused hands of someone who worked for a living, her dark shawl worn but carefully mended.

"...understand your position, Father, truly I do," she was saying, her words coming quick and desperate. "But surely the Goddess would not..."

"I overheard your conversation," Albert said, stopping just within comfortable speaking distance. There was not a hint of apology in his tone.

Both the priest and woman turned, the priest's face tightening with irritation while the woman's eyes widened with confusion.

Without preamble, Albert brought out a pouch from which pocket Hanseln couldn't tell. But it likely was just silver.

"This should address your concern," he said in that same even tone.

The woman's hands trembled as she accepted the pouch, almost dropping it from its unexpected weight. She loosened the drawstring just enough to glance inside, and her face went white. Her gaze darted between Albert, Hanseln in his guard uniform, and the priest, fear replacing whatever desperation had been there moments before.

"I... this is..." Her voice cracked. "My lord, I cannot… what do you want from...!"

"Nothing," Albert interrupted, though his tone remained mild. He reached up and deliberately touched the pointed tip of his ear, the gesture oddly theatrical for someone usually so contained. "My hearing is somewhat sharper than most. Differences in people at birth, we might be the same before the eyes of the Divine, but we are born into different circumstances," he looked at the woman meaningfully. "I do not expect you to be obliged to me in any way. But I do expect you to be a good mother."

He gestured toward Hanseln and the priest with that same precise economy of movement. "The Captain of the Valley Guard and this priest can testify in any city court that no obligation exists between us. This is freely given. You may depart in peace."

The woman clutched the pouch to her chest, looking between them all as if waiting for someone to tell her this was some cruel jest. The priest, who had been watching Albert with an expression of deep consideration, seemed to come to some decision.

"The gentleman speaks truly, my child," he said gently. "What is freely given creates no debt. Go with the Goddess's blessing."

Tears began to track down the woman's cheeks. She attempted what might have been a curtsey, though her legs seemed unsteady. "Thank you," she managed, her voice thick. "Thank you, my lord, I…" She seemed to realize she was about to launch into the very obligations Albert had just absolved her of, and stopped herself. "Thank you."

She hid the pouch beneath her clothing, turned and walked quickly toward the cathedral doors, her steps gradually quickening until she was almost running, as if afraid someone might call her back.

Hanseln watched her go, then turned to study Albert's profile.

"This was an incredibly kind thing you did," The priest, who turned toward them, told Albert, softly, "Goddess teaches us that charity can arrive from the most unexpected of people, but to tell you the truth, I've never seen someone's despair being answered so promptly..."

Albert met the priest's eyes and merely tilted his head.

"It was only coin," He said simply, "Blessed are the problems that are so easy to solve."

Hanseln coughed into his fist to attract the attention of the pair.

"I believe I am the only one who is a bit lost here," He said, glancing between the two, "Unlike you, Albert, I do not have elven hearing. Why did you part with a bag of silver?"

For a moment, the priest and Albert seemed to have studied him with identical expressions and gazes.

"This woman was pregnant," Albert explained simply, "And desperate. She was looking for spiritual guidance on what she is allowed to do. She seemed to be determined to rid herself of the child."

The priest just sighed, clearly not too happy about the conversation, but aware he couldn't stop it.

"I would appreciate if you wouldn't make her sound so heartless. She was a baker's wife, recently married. The house burned down at night because of an accident in the kitchen. The husband is gone," The priest explained quietly, glancing at the knight, "And Verlust is expecting a child. She knows she won't be able to provide for it, so she was thinking of taking a potion. It tore at her. She came to me to ease her consciousness but I could provide no comfort, it wasn't what she wished to do but what she felt she had to, and aside from that I could not lie. A sin is a sin."

Albert simply nodded.

"I overheard some of her circumstances when we were carrying the wounded man," He explained simply, "I will pray that the money will end up helping her not take a sin like that upon her soul."

Those words made Hanseln suspicious. The sudden talkativeness of the elf about his view on the Goddess's Magic… was it merely to have a convenient excuse to pause in this corridor and hear more?

"Would you perhaps accompany me in prayer?" The priest addressed Albert with clear curiosity, "I admit, I find myself a bit curious about someone such as you."

Albert seemed to pause for a moment, lacking in motion as he considered, before he shook his head.

"I apologize, but I cannot. We likely have far too different customs, and, unfortunate as it is to admit, I do have much to do today." He explained.

The priest merely nodded, smiling, even if Hanseln could swear he could see some regret in his eyes.

"That is fine, perhaps some other time. Let me show the two of you the way out," The man gestured widely to the corridor, and only then did Hanseln recall that the two of them were still in the cathedral's internal rooms, where the access was usually quite restrictive.

In only a few minutes, they were politely saying their goodbyes to the priest.

"Are the fires in the city common?" Albert suddenly asked, his voice quiet, as they walked across the nave.

Hanseln was taken aback quite a bit.

"You mean like..." His thoughts were first about the greater city fires, but he realized quickly what The Hermit was referring to, "I suppose it depends on what you would classify as common? A dozen incidents like that in a city per month at least, though, usually, no one dies," Hanseln explained simply, "It's especially dangerous in workshops, which is why they have a dedicated fire watch."

Albert seemed to pause.

"I see."

The mage briefly patted his robe before glancing at Hanseln.

"I believe that will conclude our tour for the day, however." He commented.

Hanseln felt taken aback as they exited the cathedral.

"Why?" He asked, "The Enchantress is right there!" He gestured to the famous shop.

Albert followed his gesture. He reached into his left inner pocket and extracted his remaining pouch, opening it to show the contents to Hanseln.

"I only have silver left. Won't be much I can afford, and I want to create an impression of a good customer."

Hanseln froze as he looked at the pouch. That meant that the pouch he gave to the woman was filled with gold. He recalled the size of it. It likely had more than he was paid in a few years.

It was then that the realization finally hit him.

This man views things in a way he truly couldn't grasp fully.

Albert suddenly froze, and his attention snapped down, onto the street and towards… his cart. Hanseln followed his attention, and saw an… old man? A well-dressed old man was poking and prodding at Albert's golems.

They descended the cathedral steps in silence, Hanseln still processing what he'd just witnessed. A pouch of gold, casually given away. The knight did some quick mental arithmetic and winced. That sum could have kept even his family comfortable for months, perhaps a year if spent carefully, in terms of casual spending. By no means a small sum.

As they approached Albert's carriage, Hanseln noticed a figure crouched near one of the golems. The man was perhaps forty, with wild gray hair that stuck out at improbable angles and ink-stained fingers that gestured animatedly as he mumbled to himself. His robes had clearly once been expensive, but now bore the telltale burns and stains.

"...but the binding matrix shouldn't hold under lateral stress unless... no, no, that's not right either. Perhaps if the resonance channels..." The man was practically nose-to-stone with one of the golems, squinting at the carved symbols.

"The channels are carved in a triple helix pattern," Albert said, approaching with that same unhurried pace. "It distributes the stress equally amongst most possible pathways."

The odd man jerked upright so quickly he nearly fell backward, catching himself on the golem's leg. His eyes, Hanseln noticed, were green.

"Triple helix!" The man exclaimed, as if Albert had just revealed the location of buried treasure. "But the mana bleed would be catastrophic unless..." He paused, his fingers twitching as if working through invisible calculations. "Unless you're using a recursive stabilization loop. But that would require... oh." His bright green eyes widened. "Oh, that's clever. That's very clever."

Albert studied the other mage, and as always, the knight had no idea what was on his mind.

"To so easily know exactly what I was referring to… clearly, you are an enchanter of some skill," The elf commented simply, "Which is why I don't quite understand your fascination. Those are basic golem models, quite old in design."

The aforementioned enchanter smiled, his eyes trailed up and down across the elven figure before him.

"There is nothing basic about them," He said, gently rubbing the arm of the dormant golem by his side, "You modified the spells extensively over the years, have you not? Even if originally you were using a basic template that would be fifty years old by now, I can see the countless optimizations you have made. Of course it's interesting!"

The enchanter straightened, brushing stone dust from his robes with absent movements. His gaze lingered on Albert's features, the pointed ears, the ageless face.

"An elf," he said, and there was something odd in his tone. "I didn't think I would see one of you again. What brings one to our city?"

The elf in question seemed to consider his question for a moment.

"I intend to teach magic," Albert said simply.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then the enchanter began to laugh.

It started bitter, harsh, as if the very idea was an insult. But then it shifted, becoming something helpless, uncontrolled. The man bent forward, one hand pressed to his stomach, swaying dangerously.

Hanseln stepped forward quickly, catching the man's arm to keep him upright.

"Steady now," he said, supporting the enchanter's weight as the laughter continued to shake through him.

Albert watched this display with his usual stillness. Then he tilted his head slightly.

"Are you, perchance, Zaudern?"

The laughter cut off abruptly. The man went rigid under Hanseln's supporting grip, staring at Albert with his green eyes.

"You..." Zaudern's voice came out hoarse. "You recognize me? I was a child when I saw you last."

Albert moved then, sitting down on the cathedral steps with deliberate care. He looked up at Zaudern, and something in his expression shifted, barely perceptible.

"I apologize," Albert said simply, "For how things turned out."

Zaudern stood frozen for a long moment, Hanseln still holding his arm. The knight felt acutely out of place, witnessing something he didn't understand.

"I would welcome the chance to discuss this properly later, if you wish," Albert continued, his tone remaining even. "I would not mind having a mage of your skill teaching with me, if you would be willing."

Zaudern pulled free of Hanseln's grip, straightening his robes with sharp movements.

"Come to the Enchantress, when you can," he said abruptly. Then he turned and walked away, his steps quick and slightly uneven.

Hanseln watched him go, his mind catching up to what he'd just witnessed. Zaudern. That was Zaudern, one of the wealthiest men in all of Sturmkamm. The knight had heard the name countless times in connection with magical enterprises and city commerce, though he'd never actually seen the man before.

Albert remained seated on the steps a moment longer before rising with his usual precision.

"I suppose this is farewell?" he asked, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Hanseln opened his mouth to answer… and promptly closed it.

"It is," He admitted, studying the man in front of him, "It has been an experience."

Because Hanseln genuinely wasn't sure if The Hermit turned out to be someone a bit wrong in the head… or a man who moved beyond worldly things.

But in either case… he meant well, Hanseln could tell.

"There is a reason I rarely visit cities."

Was he… complaining? Joking? The knight legitimately wasn't sure.

***

Albert,

The air in the basement was several degrees cooler than the rest of the hut, smelling faintly of ozone and old, preserved parchment. It was good for keeping things sterile.

It was also familiar work conditions.

I adjusted the focus of the crystalline lens hovering before my eyes, the brass gears clicking with a muted, satisfying precision.

On the workbench, the core of the Schattenbrand sat nested in a ring of silver stabilizing pins.

All three pieces of it.

It was a jagged thing, a shard of dense, incomprehensible magical metal alloy that seemed to pull the light from the hovering magical orbs toward its center. With the engravings around the laboratory upgraded, I could cease worrying about the traces of mana disappearing from the inside of it.

I reached for a secondary quill, dipping it into a vial of ink infused with ground moonstone. My journal was open to a fresh page, already half-filled with the geometric projections of the core's internal structure. Unfortunate as it is, I have yet to find a spell that could draw for me.

Starting my own magical academy had taken more of my time than I cared to admit.

But the work was finally moving on its own. The primary excavations were complete, and outside, even now, the crew was building the foundation for the building. For the first time in weeks, I could return to a problem that didn't involve human logistics, instead of wasting time going to Sturmkamm and back

I picked up a small, etched tuning fork and struck it against the edge of the stone table. The note was high and pure. As the vibration hit the core, a series of faint, violet lines flared beneath the metal's surface.

The mana-sight enchantment on the lens next to my eye revealed the complexity. It was a dense, weaving pattern of threads, far more intricate than any artificial creation.

I continued to sketch, copying what I saw from this angle, and knowing this brings me closer to finally bringing this project out of the prototype stage.

Suddenly, I could feel something gently butting me under the elbow.

"Mrrrp!" It sounded quite insistent. As always.

"Not now." I sighed, but ignored the issue, continuing the sketch.

For which I received another insistent headbutt.

"Mrrrp! Mrrrrrr-prrr!" I paused, feeling a genuine wish to murder someone, or to be more precise, something. I glanced to the right, and on the table, next to me, proudly stood my current magnum opus.

It was small, the size of a large house cat, and it was covered in soft, fluffy feathers of purple, white, and soft blue. It had no mouth and possessed on its face only a nose and a pair of giant, sorrowful dark eyes, looking perpetually sad. It had six feet to travel, each with three fingers.

But its physical appearance wasn't exactly the essential part.

The important function it carried was…

"Mrrr-prrr!" The creature purred happily and inhaled.

I could feel anger and a killing impulse leave me, and disappear into the little glutton.

The emotion wasn't completely gone, but lessened a lot.

"Bad move on your part. No treats for you today," I said simply, tapping the creature on the nose.

It was an intelligent one, not anywhere near human intelligence, of course; it wasn't sapient, but plenty smart in any case.

"Mrrrr!" It complained, trying to use its looks instinctively to avoid punishment.

I gently flicked it on the nose again.

"Prrr…" It sighed pitifully, and I finally noticed why it was pushing against my hand… There was a letter in one of its claws.

I sighed, expecting it to be another correspondence piece from Sturmkamm. I had to build a stable for the courier familiars recently and conduct a lot of summoning rituals merely for the convenience of not having to go to the city three times a day, and still progress with this whole concept of the learning institution.

And the main reason this was even what I was doing… was Protos himself.

The first fully artificial living creature I have created.

Created from fragments of countless monster cores and woven into a physical body of Teuflisch-constructed mana flesh.

It was a creature capable of devouring emotions and keeping them recorded forever in its core. A living library for feelings.

But it could only record a specific emotion it could sense.

Which is how this idea came about.

What place brought about in my own life the most feelings of all sorts? University, of course.

So this was where I needed to place Protos for it to gain the most emotions.

That was the original idea before all the improvements introduced later, in any case.

"This isn't from Sturmkamm," I vocalized to myself, seeing the familiar crest… of Irem on the letter.

Letters from Lisch… weren't rare. In the last few years, we have constantly exchanged correspondence.

He said he was close to a solution, practically almost there.

And I was afraid he would simply die one day in his advanced age.

No, of course, there were contingencies in place if that were to happen. An undead with a specific role of sending a message to me with a pre-prepared familiar.

It was… an inevitability I didn't much enjoy. Especially due to how distant Lisch has grown in his work with the Heart, which… made sense.

The help he did request from me was interesting, a template development here, hammering down some aspects of a spell there, but a bit confusing. I wasn't allowed in into the greater work of it all, likely because Lisch simply didn't have the time to make it readable to anyone but himself.

After all he was working on something within his area of expertise and needed little help.

I carefully unfolded the letter and cast a self-made folk spell to decipher it.

The ink on the page started to flow and reformed into something readable.

"Albert,

I must apologize to you. You see, I've lied. I've lied to you many times throughout the last few decades.

It was not out of malice, but out of concern. I didn't wish to burden you and believed myself fully capable of doing this myself.

The truth is that rescuing the people in the Heart will require more years than I have been given.

Today, Albert, I will correct that. I will cease to be a human.

The ritual is developed, I've crafted constructs who can perfectly conduct the operation, there is no need for you to be alarmed. If you are curious what my change of being entails, you'll have to wait until tomorrow, the second familiar you left with me will depart with schematics for the new body I've built for myself, and will either bring to you my will, if the operation is a failure, or a second letter detailing my experience in the new vessel.

This must be terribly abrupt for you to read, but this was a decision I've made a long time ago.

I know you would've thought it best to be present during the operation, and likely to assist with the development of this method. But I do not want to distract you further, now that you finally sound so delighted with your research in your latest letters.

Besides, the help you could have provided would've been minimal. I didn't wish to worry you.

I've lived my life fully. If I transcend, then I will be happy. If my own arrogance in doing this alone will cause a failure, I shall die, and I accept that too.

Forgive me for worrying you,

The one to soon shed the constraints of flesh,

Lisch."

I sat back, feeling my anger, helplessness, and fear mostly being syphoned out by Protos.

I glanced at the creature, and it innocently stared back at me.

For a second, I contemplated murdering it.

I put that idea aside once more quickly enough. Fundamentally it wasn't its fault that it ate. Emotions were treated like food by it, and it all tasted different but as merely flavours; it didn't know it was doing anything wrong.

I sat back, feeling empty, staring at the letter before me.

Was this my fault? For missing something?

It takes a week for the letter to fly from Irem to here. Meaning, Lisch completed the operation five days ago.

He is either already dead, or… whatever it is, he is now.

I considered cancelling all my plans and returning to Irem.

But… I didn't wish to. The Heart was protected by ritual enchantments and additional measures; as it is right now, it would be safe to leave it be for a while in either case.

I would return to bury Teuflisch if he perishes.

But if he lives…

Could I truly afford to let him be without checking what sort of creature he is now?

"Mrr-prr!" I blinked, seeing Proto nuzzle my hand. Absent-mindedly, I patted it.

I turned to working on the core in front of me.

Protos is a Prototype, that's where its name comes from. The first truly artificial creature created by me.

But not the last. He wasn't what I had in mind.

After all, a Prototype for a Djinn is merely an unfinished product. The next one would not need no real body.

The next one would be fire itself, given shape.

-----

Author Notes: I am unreasonably anxious about this chapter. I dedicated it mostly to a thematic view of Albert from another character's perspective, and I am not sure how entertaining it is. I suppose I will look at the reception and judge from there.

On that note, I will try to make chapters a bit smaller from here on out. I won't cut them down specifically, but 16k is too much.

As always, one more chapter on Patreon.