The road to Tarton was paved according to empirical standard. Great costs had been paid for the labour of digging a shallow trench, filling it with rocks and sand, then laying pavers over the top. These 'High Roads' - as they were deemed - spanned across the length of Mauria, connecting cities and towns.

  Unfortunately, they did not go out to little farms.

  As Yakob saw it, there were two options to get to Tarton. He could route directly east from the family farm for a seven day travel, or follow the river north to Botre Village as his parents suggested, then cut east along the High Road. The second option would add an extra few days of travel, but Plunket wouldn't have to struggle through wilderness. Plus, Arria lived in Botre Village.

  So, Yakob directed Plunket to the north. He left his brother behind to work on the farm with his parents. His thoughts were on how he would go about teaching Amos - an illiterate meathead - to read. It was a strange request from him. Amos had never shown any interest in pursuits of the mind before.

  Yakob got excited about visiting libraries and bookshops in Tarton, and even thought about asking his university correspondent there for recommendations. He tried to curb his enthusiasm, though. He didn't want to scare Amos off by being overbearing, but if he could read, then they could talk about books together!

  The road north - if it could be called that - mimicked the path of the Armastan River. Botre Village was situated on an elbow of the waterway, so the most common method of travel was to catch a canoe as it went past. The owners of these canoes and coracles made a pretty penny off weary travellers and farmers who needed to get to town quickly.

  Yakob had planned to take Plunket up the Armastan. A man named Jasper owned a wide canoe, perfect for horses and other animals. Doing so would have cut the travel time to Botre Village in half, but he would still have to make his way to Tarton on horseback.

  When he hailed Jasper to the river bank, Yakob searched the travel pack for his coin purse.

  Not there.

  He searched Plunket's saddlebags. Not there.

  He turned out his pockets, increasingly frantic. No chimes.

  "Sorry, boy!" cried Jasper from the river. He didn't seem sorry. "No chimes, no travel!"

  "Jasper, please. You know I'm good for it!" Yakob shouted back at him.

  Jasper just shook his head, the only thing on his mind was a piece of gold or a MutaGem. Yakob didn't have the skill nor the time to slay any beasts for a MutaGem, but even if he did, Jasper wouldn't carry change for it. One MutaGem was worth at least fifty chimes, depending on its quality.

  Yakob wouldn't debase himself by pleading with someone like Jasper. Besides, the greedy man had already left Yakob behind and begun pushing his way upstream with a pole. Yakob remounted Plunket and patted her neck.

  "Looks like the long way, girl," he said.

  Plunket snorted in annoyance.

  "Spoiled thing," Yakob laughed. He promised her treats for the extra effort, and they set off.

  The road was more of a suggestion than anything else. It was a stretch of well trodden dirt that meandered through patches of grassland and cut around fields in the general direction of Botre Village.

  Yakob spent most of his time reading his notes, talking nonsense to Plunket, daydreaming about Arria, and fantasising about her delicious baked goods.

  It was so strange, he could swear he had packed his purse.

  ...

  After a week or so of travel, the sun rose bright and cheery on the day Yakob arrived at the farming village of Botre. The dusty road had given way to cobbles. Plunket's hooves clip-clopped down the streets of the quaint village. People here knew Yakob, and they called out greetings to him. He dutifully waved back with a smile each time.

  The buildings in Botre were spaced out evenly, letting pillars of sunlight cascade onto the road between them. Wooden shutters were thrown open to let morning air circulate, and the scent of breakfast emanated from every dwelling. The businesses weren't to open until later in the day, as one may find common in smaller towns.

  The centre of town was a large open space filled with markets. It was as bustling as a village like Botre could manage - which was not very. Still, Yakob dismounted and led Plunket through the stalls from her bridle.

  They weaved and dodged around oblivious shoppers perusing the wares of the temporary market stalls. Fruits and vegetables were on offer aplenty. Freshly milled flour was sold alongside wheat seeds. There were herbs, flowers, honey, elixirs, and cheeses on offer. Yakob didn't give any of it a second glance. He was really only here for one reason, so he made his way directly to Arria's bakery.

  The sweet smell of pastries filled the air on approaching the bakery. Yakob knew where he was going, but he still let his nose lead him. Plunket's muzzle wiggled back and forth, sniffing the air in expectation.

  "For once, our goals are aligned," Yakob said to the mule.

  Arria's bakery stood tall, blocking the rising sun from view. The bottom floor was made of granite, imported from the southern mountains. The windows had iron lattice on the outside, which caught the sunlight brilliantly. The upper floor was stucco and timber, similar to Yakob's farmhouse room. The pattern of orange shingles on the roof was disturbed by a great chimney reaching to the sky. There was a pictogrammatic sign hanging from clips on an iron pole that extended past the door and above the street. It showed a loaf of bread and a fruit pie.

  The great bread oven was situated out the front of the house. The porch was covered by a small striped tarp and had a few benches where steaming loaves of bread lay already. The more desirable (and expensive) sweets and pastries were covered with mesh to keep away the flies. Arria herself tended the stall. Her back was turned as Yakob and Plunket approached eagerly.

  She was a tall girl, and had to stoop to reach the peel to the back of the oven. She wore a light green dress, a simple cut. Over the top was the apron Yakob had given her last time he visited. It wasn't like the ones they had on the farm, hard leather for hard work, rather a gentle fabric with flowers embroidered on the front.

  "Nice apron!" Yakob called out by way of greeting, "Where'd you get it?"

  Arria turned, shucking a fresh loaf of bread off onto one of the benches. Her countenance alighted with joy when she spotted Yakob.

  "Some lanky bastard bought it for me in Ryndem," she said.

  "Lanky bastard? Bet he was easy on the eyes, though."

  "Oh, extremely. I like my men malnourished, weak, and too smart for their own good," Arria winked.

  The two young people appraised each other. Yakob was haggard from travel. Arria was pretty. Her dress had short sleeves, exposing the toned biceps there. Yakob almost drooled thinking about those muscles. Arria grinned at him.

  "You gonna just stand there and stare at me all day?" she put her hands on her hips. "I've socked people for less."

  Yakob laughed nervously in response. She probably wasn't joking. He tied Plunket's reins to a horse post provided for customers. He looked back at her. Arria set the peel down on the side and stepped forward to embrace him, not caring who was watching. Yakob tucked his head into her shoulder. She smelled good. Flour-y.

  "Missed you," he said into her dress.

  "Come on," Arria said, "There's customers around. Let's go inside."

  Yakob nodded, and disentangled himself.

  "Ma!" Arria called into one of the open latticework windows, "Come watch the shop! Yakob's here!"

  A head poked up into view. Arria's Ma had close-cropped grey hair. Her face was seasoned by time, bearing an infamous frown. The scowl lessened (but never fled) upon seeing Yakob and Arria by the stall.

  "I break my back for you, girl," the older woman grumbled, "Go get a room and stop bothering the customers!"

  "I'll break your back myself, Ma!" Arria shouted. Yakob blushed, but remained silent.

  A moment later, the door swung open. Arria's Ma stepped out carefully, holding onto the frame for balance.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "Oh, I'll get you a chair, Mrs. Denholm," Yakob said and rushed inside to retrieve a stool from the dining set. He placed it in a central position and helped her sit down.

  "Call me Ma, dear," she said patting his cheek. Then, turning to Arria "When are you two going to get married? I could do with a useful son like him!"

  Arria pinched the bridge of her nose and led Yakob inside the building by the hand. He heard Ma cackling behind him while she exchanged a loaf of Maslin for a chime.

  Inside the bakery was a gloomy affair. The windows weren't placed to allow the morning sun to enter, but in the afternoon the place would be lighted well. Sunlight did still penetrate dimly, though, through bounce lighting from the outside.

  Sacks of grain and flour were strewn about, half open. Yakob even saw a sack he remembered delivering personally. As soon as the door shut, Arria whipped around and grabbed Yakob by the face - one hand on each cheek - and took him into a deep kiss.

  Yakob reciprocated. He had to tilt his head up to reach. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer, reaching up to feel her toned back through the dress. Her shoulder blades shifted smoothly as her arms encircled him. They pulled away, searching each other's eyes, then leaned into each other and kissed again.

  "Missed you too, Yak," Arria said. She pulled back slightly, putting her forehead to Yakob's.

  "Come on," Yakob complained, making a face, "Don't call me that."

  "I'll call you whatever I damned want, Yakky," Arria let him go and tapped his nose affectionately.

  "Please?" Yakob asked, "It just... It sounds like vomit..."

  Arria let out a laugh, loud and full. She sat down at the table and cut a slice of honey cake.

  "Come," she said, "eat. Bet you haven't had anything good in a while."

  Yakob pulled his own chair out and smiled. "I could eat a Plunket."

  "Pfft! As if she'd taste like anything other than rotten jerky, the lazy, old thing!"

  "The honey cake looks..."

  "Yeah, I know. We ran out of honey so I tried doing half, but, well..."

  "Better than nothing," Yakob shrugged and took a slice.

  It wasn't as sweet as he was expecting. Having tasted Arria's baking before, he knew that she liked to add lots of sugar. Regardless, it was still relatively moist and easy on the palate. Arria was watching his face intently for a reaction.

  "I think it's the best honey cake you've ever made," Yakob said licking his fingers.

  Arria folded her arms and turned her head. "You hate it."

  "No, I don't hate it..."

  Arria raised an eyebrow.

  "It's just not as sweet as normal-"

  "I told you we ran out of honey."

  "-which is a good thing! I don't like it too sweet, you know?"

  "Liar," Arria smiled involuntarily, "You love it sweet."

  Yakob just smiled and reached for another slice. "If you only used half, then I should really have two pieces to get the normal dosage of sugar..."

  "Have the whole thing," Arria said, "It's disgusting."

  Yakob's eyes lit up with delight. Then he looked at Arria with a reprimanding look, "It's delectable."

  Arria clicked her tongue. She watched Yakob eat the product she couldn't sell. At least it wasn't going to waste.

  "Your Ma wants us to get married," Yakob said around a mouthful of cake.

  "I know. It's all she ever talks about."

  "She's a funny lady."

  Arria paused. "Do you?"

  "Huh?"

  "Do you want to get married?"

  "Oh," Yakob paused his consumption of the treat, "um..."

  "Sorry. It was a stupid question. Forget I said anything."

  "No, it wasn't-"

  "Just drop it."

  They both sat in silence.

  Arria pushed her chair back. Wooden legs shrieked on wooden floor as it scraped. "You should probably get to Ryndem soon," she said.

  "I'm not going to Ryndem this time," Yakob said, glad for the distraction.

  "You're not actually going through with that, are you?"

  Yakob sighed. "That's why it's not a good idea, Arria. The Trenmir are dangerous and they aren't stupid."

  "There's a but coming."

  "But Enoch's right, we need an edge. The way things are going right now, we're going to be entirely destroyed."

  "Enoch is an egotistical asshole that thinks too big."

  "I think big," Yakob interrupted defensively.

  "You think big in a good way, Yak. Enoch doesn't see the trees for the forest or however the damned saying goes."

  "It's different for you," Yakob shook his head obstinately, "You're not Drai. You're not in danger. You don't live every day wondering if it'll be your last. You don't feel Emperor Maur watching your every step. I do."

  "I just don't understand why it has to be you. There's plenty of other Drai at the Institute. They could send Shanty."

  "Shanty? Really?"

  "Okay, maybe not Shanty, but there are others. You're young still, you have a whole life ahead of you," Arria didn't say 'with me' out loud, "You shouldn't be doing this."

  "I've already made up my mind, Arria. This is how I'm going to make a difference."

  "But why you?"

  "I have the best Eclipse for it," Yakob lowered his voice, "The Penumbral Lunar grants me the ability to hide my mana signatures. There is virtually no way for anyone, alchemist or not, to identify me as Drai."

  "I don't really get it..."

  "It's simple. I'm sneaky."

  "So no one will call the Trenmir if you use your powers right now?"

  "Not unless you call them."

  "Ha. Not funny. Get me a drink to say sorry."

  Yakob shuddered at the sudden switch in tone. Arria seemed to enjoy when he showed off his supernatural abilities, so he acquiesced. She held out a cup and wagged it back and forth impatiently.

  Yakob uncorked his waterskin and channeled his mana. He directed its silent flow into Arria's cup with a subtle gesture and the water followed magically.

  "Eww, not from your waterskin! That stuff is probably so old."

  "Heh, sorry," Yakob said, redirecting the mana so that the water returned to its vessel, twisting and morphing through the air like a snake.

  The powers of an Aquarius Drai, especially of First Rank, were nothing compared to an Aries or even Capricorn. The creation and manipulation of liquids certainly could have creative applications, but the life of a combat mage was not in the cards for Yakob. He replaced the stopper on his waterskin.

  Water was the easiest liquid to work with. It responded well to mana, where other liquids were slow and resistant. Yakob focused on the small pocket of air above Arria's cup. He checked his mana pool. This would probably take a quarter of his mana, but it would regenerate. If he could make Arria smile, it would be worth it anyway.

  He placed his hand over the cup, and let the invisible mana seep from his fingers. It reached through the air, feeling, searching. Yakob could feel each and every drop of moisture in the room. He turned his open palm into a fist, focussing his mana into a central position. The moisture in the air was drawn to it, coalescing into a little ball of water, floating in the air.

  "Smells like rain," Arria said, "I love that smell."

  "Me too," Yakob said, "It's called petrichor."

  "Shut up, smarty pants." Arria's sarcasm was accompanied by an affectionate smile. It infected Yakob too.

  He released his mana, letting the floating orb of water drop into Arria's cup with a gentle splash. Yakob's chest warmed with pride. There were better Drai than him, higher ranked, but that didn't matter. He had Arria.

  "No strings," Arria said, waving her hand between the cup and Yakob's hand.

  "You've seen it before," Yakob said.

  "It's still cool every time, though."

  Yakob said nothing, but sat straighter in the chair. Arria drank from her glass.

  "Have you told your parents yet?" she asked.

  Yakob's posture fell. He dropped his gaze, too. "They're... pious."

  "You think they'd pick Emperor Maur over their own son?"

  "I'd rather not test it," Yakob raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm going to tell them I'm joining the Trenmir."

  "Well, you kind of are."

  "So it's not a lie."

  "Yeah..."

  "They might want me to become an Alchemist."

  "Will you?"

  "Impossible," Yakob shook his head, "The mana of a transformed Drai is incorruptible by Alchemy. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I'll just be part of the civilian corps, but it's a foot in the door."

  "What about Amos? He really looks up to you."

  "He knows I'm joining. I told him it was for the money."

  "Bet he took that well."

  "Surprisingly. Normally he gets so fired up about everything, but he just kind of..." Yakob searched for the word, "Accepted it?"

  "Huh. Weird kid."

  "Yeah, he asked me to teach him how to read."

  "You'd be good at that, Yak. You're more patient than me."

  The two laughed and chatted for a while longer, simply enjoying each other's presence. Eventually, Arria had to go back to the bread stall and Yakob followed her out. He watched her work while he fed Plunket some carrots. The mule chewed them up and spat them out. She could smell the leftover honey cake inside and was going on hunger strike until she got it. Yakob rolled his eyes and gave her a slice.

  "You spoil that mule, Yak," Arria said between customers.

  "She's stubborn. If I don't give her what she wants, she'll kick me off."

  "Ha! I'd like to see that."

  "Hey, speaking of spoiled. I tried to get the boat here but Jasper wouldn't let me on without any chimes."

  "Aw, the poor farm boy had to ride his horse instead of sitting on a nice gentle boat? The world is cruel!"

  "I'm trying to tell you I forgot to pack my purse."

  "Your purse?"

  "Wallet, whatever, who cares."

  "It's alright, Yak. We'll get you a new purse. Can't have you going into your job interview looking like that."

  Yakob looked down at his road-dusty clothes. "Do you think it would be okay if I stay the night?"

  "Yes! Please! Stay as long as you like, young man!" Arria's Ma shouted from the window.

  Arria shrugged at Yakob and grinned.

  ...

  The next day, Arria handed Yakob a package folded in neat cloth. He gave her a questioning glance and she answered by indicating that he open it.

  Inside was a loaf of fresh bread, two lines of chimes, and a corded necklace with a purple stone. There were ten chimes on each line, all of the lowest denomination - copper. Still, twenty chimes was a lot to someone like Yakob.

  "Arria, this is too much," he said, trying to give back the chimes. They jingled against each other on the line as he handed them over.

  "No, it's not," Arria pushed the chimes back into Yakob's hands. "How much was the apron?"

  "Let's not talk about that," Yakob said.

  "Hey, you brought it up. Keep the money."

  Yakob sighed. He would just use it to buy her something nice anyway. The bread was a white loaf - one of the more expensive ones made of sifted wheat flour.

  Arria saw him looking at it hungrily. "I made it using your wheat. You have to save it for the road, though."

  "Okay, but this necklace is..."

  "It's a gift Yakob. I'll smack you silly if you don't take it."

  "Okay, okay," he said, holding the necklace up to the light. The cord was a simple thread, it looked old and frayed. The gem however, was a brilliant purple. Even in the dim light of the morning, it sparkled brightly.

  "It's a MutaGem actually, don't know what kind. My Grandpa left it behind, but I want you to have it. So you know you have something to live for and don't just throw yourself at whatever stupid job Enoch gives you."

  "The Trenmir won't be that dangerous. There's no way they will be able to identify me."

  Arria pouted. She crossed her arms, highlighting the rigid muscles under her skin.

  "Alright, fine, I'll be careful. You're right anyway."

  "I know."

  "It really is a beautiful necklace..."

  "To remind you of a beautiful lady."

  "An amethyst..." Yakob began musing, his concentration turned inwards, "The birthstone of an Aquarius. I could use this to bolster my mana..."

  He would have kept going, ruminating and theorising. Except for the fact that Arria had grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him into a kiss. Yakob was surprised, initially, but leaned into her farewell with his own.

  "I love you, Yak," Arria said softly.

  "I love you too, Arria."

  "Come on, you better get going."

  Yakob cleared his throat and stepped back. "Tarton awaits!"

  Arria followed him outside and smacked his bum when he turned away from her. Yakob glanced over his shoulder to see her grinning.

  "Lanky bastard..." she murmured.

  They laughed and kissed again, then hugged, then kissed for a final time. Yakob mounted Plunket and waved goodbye to Arria. He left for the High Road to Tarton.

  To the Trenmir.