Argus followed Liandra out of the cell, his mind still partially tangled in the lingering echoes of Vilangos’s ordeal. Liandra walked beside him with a measured grace, her eyes scanning the corridor with quiet vigilance, but the tension in her posture was subtle, almost imperceptible.

  As the guards slid the heavy doors closed behind them, the click resonated in the hallway. It was a sound both final and formal, and Argus felt a strange relief that Vilangos was secured. He cast a glance at Liandra.

  “You… you’re remarkably strong for someone so young,” he said, his voice measured yet tinged with curiosity.

  Liandra lifted a brow, her expression shifting into one of amused skepticism. “Remarkably strong?” she asked, her tone teasing, “Is it not true that you are far stronger than I am? By that measure, why does it surprise you?”

  Argus faltered, searching for words that could reconcile the truth with her sharp observation, and found none that would satisfy the moment. He opened his mouth, then closed it, silence stretching between them.

  Liandra’s lips curved into a soft chuckle. “I understand, everyone has their own secrets to keep.”

  Argus nodded, a faint tension easing from his shoulders. “Yes,” he admitted.

  Her eyes gleamed briefly before her expression shifted into the calm self-assurance she always carried. “From birth, I was… unusually talented,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “I was born with a rare core. A core that allowed exceptional control over mana and accelerated growth. The Haemlin Core. Most who possess it, with guidance, become archmages. Some even ascend beyond.”

  Argus blinked, a flicker of surprise breaking across his features. The rare core was spoken of only in whispers, a legend among mages, a gift given only to the most extraordinary. Only a handful of mages in a century acquired it. To hear her admit it casually was almost staggering. Headmaster Julius… I heard he also has it, he thought briefly, recalling the gossip of his classmates.

  “And you have it,” he said finally, voice tight with both awe and disbelief. “A core so rare that many individuals would kill you to have a chance of acquiring it themselves.”

  Liandra nodded, a faint hum of pride beneath her careful composure. “Yes. It shaped me. But it is not without cost. Strength is never free.” For some reason, the last sentence carried a hint of sadness beneath it. Argus wondered at the reason but did not pry.

  He let the words settle as they moved down the corridor. He remained quiet, absorbing the weight of her revelation. The corridor twisted toward the grand entrance hall, where servants and guards moved with mechanical precision. One servant approached him, bowing politely.

  “Dinner is ready, Master Argus,” the servant intoned. He shifted his gaze to Liandra. “The matriarch also asks for the presence of the young lady.”

  Argus stiffened. The servant bowed and then left. He glanced at Liandra. He remembered that her time was limited; what would she say?

  Liandra’s composure had fractured ever so slightly, betraying her surprise. “It would be no trouble for me,” she answered.

  “But how would I explain you to my mother? And isn’t your time limited?” Argus questioned.

  “Do you need to—”

  “No,” she interrupted softly, stepping forward with practiced elegance. “I am a student at Crystallis Academy, same as you. A commoner who entered on merit. That will suffice, I think.”

  Argus glanced at her, surprised at the ease with which she adapted. She moved with such certainty that it was difficult to remember this was a lie conceived in moments of pressure. He was again reminded of her skill.

  The hallway widened into the dining hall, the warm glow of lanterns casting soft shadows across polished wood and tapestries. The scent of spiced meats and simmering broth filled the room, grounding Argus in the ordinary rhythms of life.

  His mother sat at the head of the table, her expression calm and carefully measured. Yet Argus noticed subtle changes—the lightness of her voice, the softness in her posture. The weight of grief over his sister’s death had not vanished, but it had softened. Her gaze moved to him, probing lightly, curiosity tempered with affection.

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  Argus welcomed the change, however late. They exchanged basic greetings while Argus introduced Liandra.

  “So,” she said, “how goes the academy? Are you prepared for the trial?”

  Argus swallowed, feeling the familiar anxiety that accompanied questions of the trial. “I… I am,” he said, cautious yet firm.

  She turned her gaze to Liandra, her eyes sharp and calculating. “And Liandra,” she said, “what family are you from?”

  Liandra inclined her head, her voice smooth and controlled. “I am a commoner from a small family, so you would not know of it. My skill and discipline earned me a place at Crystallis Academy.”

  His mother’s eyes softened, a faint smile brushing her lips. “It is not easy,” she said. “To enter such a place without wealth, without influence. It is rare and deserving of respect.”

  Liandra inclined her head politely. “Thank you,” she said.

  Argus noticed something else—a small detail, but one that tugged at his memory. His mother chewed gum, the same flavor that Kaelarion had favored. He frowned slightly and whispered to Liandra, “I’ve recently seen a couple of people chewing that. Is it really that good?”

  Liandra’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I tried it once,” she said quietly. “It is quite addictive.”

  The conversation shifted subtly as his brother, Vaeron, entered the hall and took his seat with a relaxed yet imposing air. He had observed much that morning and carried an easy authority that came naturally. His eyes, bright and assessing, rested on Argus.

  “What do you know about the adventurer trial?” Vaeron asked.

  Argus’s mind shifted into calculation. “We will be dropped in a silver-rank area,” he said, voice low. “The trial requires participants to move in parties of at least two and no more than five.”

  Vaeron’s expression tightened slightly, a mixture of concern and counsel. “Do you have any party members in mind?”

  Argus hesitated, his reply vague. “Yes… I have someone.” Not a lie, but far from the full truth.

  Vaeron leaned back slightly, his gaze assessing. “If you do not have a party,” he said gently, “then perhaps you should not attend this year.” His tone held concern, as if he had completely forgotten the display at the courtyard.

  Argus noted the unspoken worry in his brother’s words. Vaeron did care, despite the harshness and distant behavior he had shown over the years. He nodded slightly, accepting the counsel.

  “And this girl,” Vaeron said, turning to Liandra, “will she be part of your party?”

  Liandra’s lips curved in a mild, thoughtful smile. “I am still considering whether I will take the trial this year,” she said, her voice light yet carrying the weight of truth. “I am not certain I am ready. Perhaps next year, when I am stronger.”

  Vaeron inclined his head. “Take your time,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to Argus, as though to say that some things were better handled with patience than haste.

  The meal began in earnest. Plates passed, and conversation moved like a gentle current across the table. Argus noticed his mother’s ease, the way she had returned to small gestures that reminded him of life before grief had reshaped their home. Her questions were gentle but probing, her laughter small but real.

  At one point, she looked directly at Liandra and smiled. “What a beautiful young lady you are,” she said.

  Liandra inclined her head politely. “Thank you,” she said, keeping her tone carefully neutral yet warm.

  Argus felt a subtle heat rise to his cheeks as his mother turned to him. “And is she… your girlfriend?”

  He choked on the bite of roasted meat he had taken, coughing and nearly spilling the drink in front of him. Dravien’s calm, sardonic commentary cut through the moment.

  Such behavior is disgraceful, he said, tone dry, almost mocking, yet carrying the weight of truth. Argus’s scowl remained hidden, but internally, he seethed, noting the audacity of the observation.

  The conversation moved on, drifting into lighter anecdotes and minor arguments over trivialities that filled the room with warmth. Vaeron teased Argus quietly about his training, about the spells he was learning at Crystallis, about the manner in which he tried to impress instructors with excessive preparation. Argus countered, his tone dry, a faint edge of humor undercutting his seriousness.

  “Liandra, would you mind not telling anyone what I say next?” his mother inquired, sitting straight in her chair. The gum was discarded.

  “Of course,” Liandra said, barely showing any surprise, except the twitch of her brow.

  “Vaeron, Argus,” she started. “Do you think we should withdraw the funding of the Mana Crystals?”

  Argus blinked. He knew exactly what she was talking about. The mana crystals used to ward the nation. Many of the resources had been generously provided by House Thunderbloom for their acquirement.

  And now asking to withdraw the funding—he wasn’t too aware of the effects that would have on the kingdom, but it would be massive.

  Vaeron barely twitched in surprise. It seemed he had been expecting the question.

  “The death of Myra has shown us that mere assassins can break through the wards. So what does that mean?” She cast a questioning glance at Vaeron and Argus.

  “It means that the wards were so weak that even assassins could penetrate through them,” Argus answered.

  “Or, it could be that the wards were not properly placed. That the Royal Knights had shown negligence in establishing them. That they did not think us important enough to care,” Vaeron said, his voice barely restrained.

  “Yes, it could mean either of those two things,” she said, tucking a strand of hair neatly.

  “Whenever your father makes contact with us, we will have a detailed meeting on this subject. I just wanted to let you both know.”

  Dinner continued, but the atmosphere was solemn, and conversations short.

  Argus finished up and excused himself, followed by Liandra. Once they were out of earshot, she said, “I only have a little time, so we need to hurry, here, take this.”

  She handed him a black necklace, carefully coated. Argus could feel its malevolent energy even from inside the seal.

  He nodded, and they made their way to his room, where hopefully she would reveal more about the bastards who attacked his home.