I caught what Ilyra Marcellis was hinting at, though I couldn’t tell what she actually wanted from us. Either way, I had no reason to do her house any favors.

  She wasn’t a bad person, just the calculating sort. But I didn’t like how her city was split in two. Walking through the checkpoint at the wall, I could see the guards were watching everyone with suspicion. When I passed, they waved with a smile and respect. But not to the poor.

  Dense air full of the scent of hope and despair mingling, and an invisible line dividing people’s lives. On one side, the comforting aroma of roasted meat, laughter spilling over from tavern doors in the rich quarters; on the other, the sharp tang of unwashed bodies and the muffled cries of children on the streets where the poor lived. This separation told me plenty about its ruler. More than Ilyra probably wanted.

  When I got back to the palace, I could hear the training yard before I saw it. Something was happening out there, and it was loud.

  Definitely not a party. It sounded like someone was getting humiliated and everyone else was loving it. My ears picked up jeers and teasing encouragement as silver coins changed hands and bets were made among the onlookers, their eyes bright with the thrill of wagering on a winner.

  I followed the noise through the side gate and found Ragna in the middle of the yard, her boot planted on a knight's chest while two others tried to scrape up what was left of their dignity behind her. A few spectators gestured, mimicking how they thought the knights could recover and take her down – a rash suggestion they seemed willing to back with their wallets.

  She was laughing like this was a festival game, uncaring as the palace steward watched from a distance with a disapproving glare. A small purse of coins lay forgotten near one of the betting circles, already lighter from the lost bets on Ragna.

  "Come on, that can't be all you've got!" she said, pressing down just enough to make him wheeze. "You were so confident a minute ago."

  I had a brief, sensible thought that went ah fuck, we’re going to get kicked out.

  The knight under her boot made a noise that could’ve been a plea or a curse. With his face that red, it was hard to tell. I walked closer and cleared my throat.

  "Making friends, Princess?"

  Ragna perked up at my voice and looked over with a grin, then took her foot off him like she’d only just remembered she was standing on someone. The knight rolled away like the ground was hot. His friends hauled him up, and all three hurried toward the barracks without looking back.

  "Thorvynnnn, they started it!" Ragna said as she came over, dusting her hands. "Came over while I was stretching and asked if I wanted company. Then one of them tried to touch my shoulder. What should I have done?"

  "Well, what did you do?"

  "And I showed them the [Valtherian Hospitality] Skill!"

  "There’s no such skill." I watched the trio vanish through a doorway. One of them was limping. "Most people just say no."

  Ragna tilted her head. "If they’re going to bother me, they could at least make it interesting. That was just sad."

  "The flirting?"

  "The existing, they need to try harder," then she jabbed a thumb at my chest. "Speaking of which, since when did you start dressing like some fat, perfumed noble? Picking up skinny girls again, bastard?"

  I glanced down at the cream-colored tunic Ilyra made me wear. It was a clean and expensive thing, and it made me feel like a fancy plate at a noble’s dinner.

  "Breakfast," I said.

  Ragna’s eyebrows climbed. "With who."

  "Lady Ilyra. She invited me to this nearby tea house. It was expensive enough that I could hear the coins crying. Seems like she wanted something, but I turned her down. Well… I hope she understood I rejected her."

  Ragna burst into laughter so loud that two knights across the yard turned their heads. "So she’s working on you already? I was right to report this to Isolde!"

  "I just ate her lamb and left."

  She raised an eyebrow at the wording and then clapped me on the shoulder. "That’s my man. Alright. While you were being civilized, I was training to get stronger. At this rate, I’ll soon be the strongest while you keep playing with girls. Come on, let’s fix that."

  She hauled me over to the quietest corner of the yard, where a rack of practice weapons sat untouched. Someone had left a few copper coins on the rack. Were they gambling? Knights never change.

  Ragna picked one up and flicked it toward me.

  "Put it on your knuckle."

  "What for?"

  "Aura drill. You nearly killed Isolde, remember?"

  I stared at her. "But, um… You don't even have Aura yet."

  How could she teach me anything if she didn’t even have it? She shot me a glare. "You think you’re the shit. I’ve watched my mother use it since you could walk!" and before she could walk, but she didn’t mention that part. "And also, I asked the elders about it a lot.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “You don’t know anything, Thorvyn,” she looked happy, saying that. Had she been waiting for this? “Aura is important because it’s Aura that is the difference between people who swing hard and people who win. Put the coin on."

  I wondered how a coin was supposed to help, and where she’d even seen this kind of training back on the islands, where coins weren’t a thing. But asking was pointless.

  I balanced the coin on my middle knuckle.

  "Now coat it," she said. "Thin. Like skin. Not like armor."

  “Okay…” I let Aura seep out. The coin wobbled and slid off immediately, then clinked on the stone. Ragna made a sound that was almost sympathy.

  "You’re so bad, Thorvyn. No wonder Isolde passed out,” she kept repeating that, and I cleared my throat to show I was uncomfortable. She either didn’t catch it or didn’t care. “Try it again."

  So I did. I didn’t know what she was trying to do, but Ragna wasn’t the type to waste my time in the name of training. I think… Anyhow, I tried again, and again, and again. Every time I pushed too hard, the coin popped off like it didn’t want to be near me. When I held back too much, it slid away like grease.

  After ten minutes, my patience gave out before anything else did.

  "This is stupid," I said.

  "It’s boring," she corrected. "There’s a difference. You know, some people are born with Aura, while people like us unlock it. Draegan was born with it.”

  “Your brother?” I was surprised. So her brother was special too, not just her? Interesting.

  “Yup. And mother made him do this until he cried."

  "Great family."

  "He deserved it."

  Then she urged me to continue. At one point, I wondered if this was her idea of revenge because I’d left on a tea date with some random girl. After a couple more tries, I decided to force myself to focus more.

  I did it again, this time breathing slower and keeping my shoulders loose. The coin steadied, and I walked one step, then another. It stayed.

  My Aura dipped a little.

  [Aura: 6841/7000]

  Not a lot, but enough that I noticed it. Aura was powerful, but it was also costly. More so for the Mantle of Valteria. The Mantle had almost drained me down to the bones back in Solstara’s war, and I had to stop using it since I felt I might pass out. Thankfully, the Pirate Prince had arrived in time to serve as a distraction.

  I knew this power came with a price. Used normally, it was fine. That night with Ragna and Isolde had been fun, even if it almost became dangerous for Isolde’s frail body. But I was fine, that level of usage was okay. On the other hand, the mantle just burned through Aura like nothing else.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ragna watched my face and snorted.

  "You counting the Aura? Stop that."

  "I am not counting. It just appears in front of my eyes."

  "You wear your fear like armor," she said. "You stand straight, you act relaxed, and your eyes keep screaming about that red cloak and what it did to your insides."

  “Whoa, we have ourselves a philosopher here,” I joked, and she started blabbering something while looking outraged. I didn’t answer back, continuing to think.

  Ragna calmed down and huffed. Then she picked up the coin that had fallen earlier and set it back on my knuckle herself, like she was placing a crown on a stubborn king.

  "By training the boring parts, you’ll prepare for the painful part," she said. "You’re not a lazy bastard, Thorvyn. Well, not anymore. So I don’t have to convince you to train. Huh, I guess you don’t understand the lethality of this since you haven’t been driven to a corner while using it yet?”

  “Of what?”

  “The Mantle of Valteria. We don’t have a single fancy name for it back in the tribe, so I didn’t recognize it when the snake woman mentioned it. But seeing you use it, I know what it is. The Cloak of Red Death. That’s what it’s called, among other things. And it's named death not only because it kills enemies, but because if not used right, it can kill you, the user, too. Have you heard the story of Maren of the Bloodforged?”

  “Yeah, I have.”

  “Yeah. He thought he could handle its power during the Great Rift Battles. Arrogant fool. His misplaced arrogance led to his downfall when the mantle consumed his flesh from within, and he became a shriveled corpse. Do you understand now?”

  “Uhm...”

  I already experienced pain while maintaining it for a few minutes, but… death? Wait, looking back, there was something like that. I pulled up the description.

  ===

  Royal Mantle of Valteria (A)

  A sovereign's fury awakened in barbarian blood. The user's aura erupts into a colossal crimson mantle that lashes behind them like a storm-torn cape. It howls upward, tearing at the sky, echoing the ancient truth buried in their blood.

  The mantle strengthens the body, grants the user access to [Aura], and crushes weaker enemy wills while increasing the morale of allies in its presence.

  Legends call it a slayer's crown without metal, worn by warriors who’ve lost the need for thrones to be feared.

  Warning: Overusage can cause internal injuries, including but not limited to – death.

  ===

  “You’re right…” I said as I read the last line.

  “Yeah, see?” She looked pleased that I understood. “Man, I’m such a good teacher… Ahem, anyway. So the point is, if you don’t train Aura control properly, you won’t be efficient. And if you’re not efficient and run out of Aura mid-battle after overusing the Mantle, you won’t even be able to rely on your body since you’ll receive internal injury."

  She said it jokingly, but that was annoyingly wise.

  I have to take this seriously. The [Mantle of Valteria] had evolved from a skill called [Aura Manipulation], and it’d reached A-rank. So theoretically, my aura manipulation ability should be at A-rank. I should only get used to it, how it works. So we spent the rest of the morning on the coin, then switched to simple forms while keeping a thin aura film around my forearms.

  When I tried to thicken it, Ragna slapped the back of my head. "I told you to keep it thin," she really took the teacher role seriously, huh. "You’re not trying to become a glowing statue, are you? You’re trying to win fights."

  That seems a little inefficient. It wasn’t as if I had a single drop of Aura. I had a lot, kind of. So, in a fight, instead of just thinly covering my arm, wouldn’t it be more fun to just make spiked knuckles and punch someone’s face off? In the end, Ragna doesn’t have it herself, she’s only talking from what she’s seen and–

  “I know what you’re thinking, hello!” She interrupted me. “But you need to start off with thin. You’re learning to control the efficiency, the wastage of Aura. Instead of making armor around you. Yet.” She explained, and I truly was surprised now.

  Seriously, what had she been eating lately? She was getting smarter by the day.

  In the end, I decided to trust my de facto teacher in this. She was a reliable one. By noon, I could walk and shadowbox, balancing the coin for a full minute. Not exactly heroic, but it was progress. That was enough.

  We ate, we trained, and we waited.

  I kept waiting for another kidnapping attempt or a knife in the dark. Nothing happened. Odd. Why had the protection Quest been given a whole month's time if nothing was happening? I wondered if Ilyra knew something I didn't.

  While wandering, I’d gather some information. A local festival loomed at the end of the month, to praise and worship the Gods for better crops. The Ambergrain Festival. Maybe House Velkor was waiting for that, given the level of distractions it’d cause…?

  Theorizing was pointless. I could only wait.

  That night I slept, and in the morning we were back in the yard again.

  Ragna was mid-laugh, bullying a different group of knights, when a household runner appeared at the archway. He looked like he’d been told not to blink wrong.

  "Warrior Ragna. Warrior Thorvyn." He bowed so fast it was almost a flinch. "Our Lady Ilyra requests your presence at the outer gate. As soon as you can, if possible..."

  "Urgent?" I asked.

  He nodded. "Yes, my lord."

  Ragna’s smile sharpened. "Something’s happening."

  I wiped my hands on my trousers and followed the runner out.

  The palace was too awake for this hour. Boots hit stone in quick, purposeful rhythms, and quiet conversations happened across the halls. People were moving with intention instead of habit. That was never a good sign.

  ****

  The outer gate yard had a travel carriage waiting, polished pretty, which meant it was for appearances. Are we going somewhere?

  Ilyra stood near it with Elayne at her shoulder. Both were dressed for travel. Ilyra wasn’t dressed like an escort today, she wore practical clothes, light armor, and boots that could actually run.

  And behind them stood an old man I hadn’t met.

  [7th Ascension]

  The number floated above his head like a warning sign.

  He stood tall and straight-backed, grey hair cut short, with a face that looked honorable even under the super-long white beard. His armor was plain, well-kept. He didn’t bother wearing jewelry. He was a man of steel, leather, and a sword that must have seen more use than any ceremonial blade.

  Ragna stared at him like she’d found a new mountain to climb. Before she could make a remark to the old Knight, Ilyra saw us and nodded. "You came quickly. Thank you."

  "The message was urgent, it seemed," I said. "What’s going on?"

  "We’re leaving." She gestured toward the carriage like it was obvious. "The Dungeon City of Harrowgate."

  Ragna blinked. "Dungeon? Harrowgate?"

  Elayne answered. "They call it an adventurer city too. It was built up around three fairly large dungeons. People go there to level, hunt monsters, and sell whatever they manage to drag back out. It is loud, doesn’t look pretty, and is full of desperate men."

  Ragna’s eyes lit up. "Sounds perfect!”

  Elayne’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t smile. "It’s also dangerous, Ragna. Excitement is good, but please don’t underestimate the danger."

  “I am not.”

  Ilyra didn’t bother softening it. "The Mythborn Trials are close enough that I can feel the weight of them every day I wake up. I need levels, and I need them fast. Dungeons are the quickest way to earn that strength without shoving my House into open war."

  That was a noble way to say it. She wasn’t lying, but I had a feeling there was something more. "Why now?" I asked.

  "I can’t afford to be unready, you know? The Trials are in three months," she said. Then she added, more simply, like she was talking to a soldier instead of an outsider. "I’m not going to show up there half-sharpened. I can’t."

  Ragna rolled her shoulders. "Which dungeon first? Are there dragons inside…?"

  The Volcanic Islands had dungeons too, although we’d never been inside one. They’re said to hold dragons in them, although not really real dragons, as they can only exist in the dungeons. No matter how many times they get killed, the dragon respawns to be killed again. A great training opportunity.

  Elayne pointed, like she’d recited this to recruits before. "The Briarcoil is the easiest. It’s an overgrown maze. Rimevault is full of ice caves and cold. Lastly, there is Cindermout. It is volcanic, deep, and full of things that don’t forgive mistakes."

  Ragna grinned wider at every word. "Cindermouth! I miss the volcanoes."

  "I expected that." Ilyra glanced at the old man. "Ah, by the way. Allow me to introduce you all, this is Sir Harlan Greycairn, one of the most respected knights in the Empire, who’s been serving our house for a proud hundred and fifty years. My father insisted he should escort us."

  Sir Harlan looked at me, then Ragna, like he was measuring whether we were trouble worth enduring. He spoke without raising his voice. "Harrowgate has three holes in the earth and ten thousand ways to die. Stay close if you want to survive, young warriors."

  I liked his vibe.

  Ragna tilted her head. "You’re pretty strong."

  "I’m old," he said. "That means I survived being young."

  Ragna burst out laughing, and I liked him already. Even Ilyra and Elayne smiled, though their humor looked thinner. They probably knew stories about what his survival had cost.

  "The Teleportation Field is located in the Scholarly District," Ilyra said to me, gesturing to the carriage. "We’ll ride there. It draws less attention than walking through the streets with a full war party."

  We climbed in. The interior smelled of old leather and lavender oil. Sir Harlan took the seat opposite the door and closed his eyes immediately, arms crossed. Ragna spent the ride staring out the window, tapping her fingers on her knee. Ilyra reviewed a sheaf of papers she’d pulled from nowhere, ignoring us all.

  The ride was short. When the carriage stopped, we stepped out into a walled courtyard dominated by a low, domed building. Soldiers in Marcellis green guarded the heavy iron doors.

  Inside, the air had a buzzy feeling. A lot of magic.

  The Teleportation Field occupied the center of the floor. It was a little different than the one from Thalassaria. A broad circle of cut stone sunk into the earth, the runes carved deep and filled with a silver alloy that caught the lamplight.

  Mages in heavy robes moved around the perimeter, checking flows. This was expensive infrastructure that ate gold just to sit idle.

  "We have clearance," a mage announced, not looking up from a crystal he was tuning. "Step in. Don't walk off until it’s done, otherwise you’ll vanish into the void~!" Then he let out a crazy laugh.

  We stepped onto the stone. The runes lit in a low blue that looked more like industrial magic than anything holy. The air tightened around my chest.

  I decided I didn’t like this teleportation thing. It felt like the world was cheating, but my body was the one paying the toll fee.

  "Hold your breath," Sir Harlan muttered.

  The light flared. For a moment, it felt like someone grabbed my skeleton and yanked it sideways while leaving my skin behind. The world smeared into white noise.

  Then gravity snapped back, heavy and sudden.

  Harrowgate smelled like money and mistakes.

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