Corvis Eralith
Back in my true elven form, anchored once again to the core identity that made me Corvis, I strode through the halls of my family's Royal Palace.
I was just about to leave the palace's main entrance hall to step out into Elf Court when I spotted something exceedingly peculiar.
A sapsali dog with shaggy, khaki-coloured fur—the mana beast Tessia had gifted Alwyn for his tenth birthday—was enthusiastically sweeping the marble floors of the foyer.
He held a broom carefully clamped between his jaws, trotting happily down the adjacent corridor as he performed the menial chores usually reserved for the Eralith royal servants.
The various visiting dignitaries and functionaries of the Kingdom of Elenoir walking in and out of the palace turned their attention to the curious Forest Hound.
Most watched him with sheer amusement before returning to their royal business, or abruptly bowing in salute the moment they noticed their prince walking among them.
"Loup! I didn't teach you to sweep the floor!"
Alwyn Triscan exclaimed, rushing out from a secondary corridor leading to the servants' wing.
He swooped into the main hall, breathlessly chastising his new four-legged companion.
Muffling my footsteps and completely suppressing my mana signature, I seamlessly blended into the bustling throng of elves. I offered a subtle hand gesture, silently ordering the passing nobles to play along and ignore me as I snuck up on my best friend.
"Alwyn," I said, materialising right beside him (that was something so much like Grandpa...).
Observing him up close, I noticed he looked quite different from his usual self. He wore the amber jewel Alea had given him—the one with the Elenoir Bee perfectly preserved within the orange resin—hung securely around his neck.
Dawn's Ballad rested at his hip, sheathed in its unassuming scabbard; the legendary blade looked more like a simple, pommel-less walking cane, not dissimilar to Fiorwato.
Between his newly acquired equipment and his furry companion, Alwyn truly looked like a whole new person. He was fully growing into his own, what Alea had always wished for him.
"Your Highness!" Alwyn jumped, though a bright smile quickly broke across his face as he recognised me.
He shot a sharp glance at his dog, and the mana beast immediately sat back on its haunches like a perfectly trained soldier, comically mimicking Alwyn in a half-military salute.
"Hi, Alwyn," I greeted him warmly. "How is the Dracamic that Tessia gifted you behaving?"
I glanced down at the khaki-furred sapsali dog, who immediately offered a sharp, happy bark in greeting.
"I have been training Loup, but he absolutely insists on doing the palace chores," Alwyn sighed, gently wrestling the broom free from Loup's jaws. "I think he picked the habit up from my sister..."
"Palace chores? A dog?" I repeated, genuinely amused. "How quaint."
I smirked as I watched Alwyn hold the broom high out of reach from Loup, who was trying everything in his power to reclaim his stolen prize. Alwyn, however, clearly had other thoughts weighing on his mind.
"Your Highness? Could I ask you a favour? It is for Loup..." Alwyn's voice was barely a whisper—less than a breath, really—but thanks to my mana-heightened elven senses, I heard him perfectly.
"Ask away," I prompted, always happy to indulge my closest friend.
"Ehm... could you use your Portal Freaks—Frogs! I meant Frogs!—to go and buy some biscuits from Asyphin?" Alwyn asked nervously. "I... would like to feed Loup some."
The traditional biscuits from Elenoir's northernmost city were some of Alwyn's absolute favourite treats; of course he wanted to share them with his new pet.
However...
"Can he actually eat them, though?" I asked. Alwyn immediately nodded.
"Her Highness gave me a strict list of what Loup can and cannot eat. There is nothing in those biscuits that will harm him," Alwyn replied with absolute certainty.
Does the Woods Wide Web also grant Tessia innate knowledge about mana beasts' diets? I wondered amusedly. Or at least the Elshire-born ones?
Pushing the thought aside, I turned and walked towards whete the nearest Portal Frog rested: one of the palace garden's ornate fountains.
—
I waited for the Portal Frog to swallow me, but the plump, amphibious REbelf with its malachite horns simply shook its head and croaked, as if outright denying my request.
"The fuck do you mean, "no?"" I found myself asking, the swear slipping from my lips before I could catch it.
Needless to say, Portal Frogs were not supposed to be able to say no. They were woven from the very strings of Fate. They were ontologically bound to obey me! They didn't even possess enough raw consciousness to refuse a direct command.
"Swallow me and spit me out in Asyphin," I ordered, planting my hands on my hips as I glared down at the creature basking in its fountain pond.
"Ribbit," the Portal Frog croaked back defiantly.
"I knew they would rebel eventually. You can't trust those freaks," Alwyn whispered from behind me.
Yes, Alwyn, you don't like frogs, I understand, I sighed inwardly, my mind already racing to formulate a hypothesis to explain this impossibility.
Was the destination frog in Asyphin... compromised?
But how? They couldn't die of starvation or thirst, their instincts drove them to avoid all fights, and even if someone had destroyed the Asyphin construct, I should still be able to teleport to its last anchored coordinates.
"It's not important," Alwyn continued, his cadence shifting to its usual apologetic tone. "There is actually another thing I wanted to ask you, my prince."
He was probably right; it didn't matter right now. Perhaps I had simply made a minute error when weaving the Fate strings of that specific frog.
"Could you put in a good word for me with Mr. Luchen?" Alwyn asked, catching me entirely off guard.
"You mean the new royal guard?" I asked, surprised to hear Cylrit's alias mentioned.
"I want to learn how he defeated the Commodore of the Royal Police so easily," Alwyn said, a genuine spark of martial passion in his eyes. "Maybe pick up some of his tricks, too."
If Cylrit took Alwyn as a student, it would benefit my best friend immensely. Furthermore, I was certain the former Retainer would appreciate the chance to teach.
If the surprising secret I had heard from Cylrit was true—that beneath his austere, lethal exterior, he harboured a genuine desire to be an educator—then a dedicated ten-year-old like Alwyn would make the perfect first student for the exiled Alacryan.
"Sure," I agreed absently. My eyes remained locked on the stubborn Portal Frog as a cold presentiment began to coil in the back of my mind.
What could possibly block the absolute authorities Fate granted its Arbiter?
Up until now, REtrocurrent, REmould, and REstringify had all worked flawlessly. Any issues I faced had always stemmed from my own lack of understanding or control. I had never encountered an external factor capable of outright obstructing the Arbiter's powers.
"Have you seen Grandpa today?" I asked, forcing my attention back to Alwyn. Before this entire frog debacle, I had been searching the Royal Palace for Virion.
Since I couldn't find him here, I had intended to search Zestier; specifically the Honeycomb Promenade.
"I did!" Alwyn exclaimed. "Lord Elder Virion is very busy with the fair he has been organising. He told me he would have to pause our training sessions for a while because of it. From what I know he left to meet with a dwarven acquaintance of his."
"I see..." I murmured. I had wanted to work alongside Grandpa to advertise the Interdicathian network, especially after what I had overheard him discussing it with Cynthia.
But if he was already swamped with work... I would simply have to do it myself.
"Go tell Luchen that I said he should take you on as a student," I told Alwyn, turning away from the fountain. "I will... go on tour."
I had the perfect idea for the advertisment of the Interdicathian.
Jasmine Flamesworth
I stretched my arms high above my head as the Twin Horns party returned from our latest expedition into the Beast Glades. The gruelling dungeon we had just cleared had left us all utterly exhausted.
"Tired, Jasmine?" Helen Shard, our party leader and a woman who was almost like a mother to me, asked gently.
"A bit," I replied softly. My quiet voice was almost entirely drowned out by the constant, boisterous noise of Adam and Durden.
Even though Durden was usually a man of few words, his deep, rumbling voice naturally reverberated whenever he spoke.
"Let's head straight to a tavern! I desperately need a drink after that irksome dungeon," Adam exclaimed, following the declaration with a deep, bone-weary sigh.
"Yes, and maybe wash up, too..." Angela Rose added, casting a sidelong glance at Adam and Durden. Her nostrils twitched in slight disgust. "You two are absolutely caked in dried blood and whatever else flows through the veins of a mana beast."
"Agreed," Durden rumbled mildly, absentmindedly scratching at a dark crust of dried gore on his tunic.
I watched the rest of the Twin Horns interact, lingering a few paces behind them as I usually did. I was more than satisfied just listening to their lively banter and jokes, preferring the comforting background noise over being an active participant myself.
As our destination finally came into view down the steep, winding mountain paths I couldn't help but let out a quiet, satisfied sigh of my own.
Greengate was a modest town of a few thousand people nestled near the border of the Beast Glades. Its inhabitants were primarily Adventurers resting between gruelling missions, or those who had long since retired to raise families.
Reynolds and Alice had once been torn over whether to move to Greengate rather than Ashber when they were expecting their first child... a child who had tragically died before he could even be born.
They had eventually chosen Ashber—a decision heavily influenced by the military history of the Leywin family. Later, just a few years ago, they had relocated to Xyrus City following the birth of their daughter.
"Jasmine!" I raised my eyes, which I had kept cast downward while lost in my solemn thoughts. Adam was staring at me with a demanding glint in his eye. "You agree?"
"With what?" I replied.
Before Adam could launch into one of his signature tantrums—a staple of his notoriously difficult personality—Angela graciously intervened.
"Adam is trying to convince us that Durden should pay for the first round of drinks," the blonde mage sighed, rolling her eyes.
"You were the one who saved Durden's arse from that pack of mana beasts," Adam pointed out, crossing his arms stubbornly. "You agree, don't you?"
Durden let out a heavy sigh, giving up just as easily as he always did. The colossal man's kindness truly knew no bounds.
"I'll pay, I'll pay..." he rumbled, his large shoulders sinking in quiet agreement.
The laughter from the Twin Horns was quickly swallowed as we fully entered Greengate, replaced by a melody that seemed to be holding the entire border settlement under a spell.
"A bard is in town?" Helen wondered aloud, halting in the middle of the street to simply listen.
The music felt like the essence of a lively, joyous tavern distilled into pure sound. Every note seemed to move and sparkle in the air like visible mana—was this some form of sound magic? It was energetic and breathtaking, a symphony unlike anything I had ever heard, even during my stifling years with the Flamesworth family.
"For a bard to be producing all of this alone—there must be a whole band!" Angela exclaimed.
The people gathered in the streets of Greengate were all moving towards the town centre, drawn to the source of the music like moths to a flame.
"If there's a festival in town we didn't hear about, I'm certainly not complaining," Adam said, stretching his arms above his head. "Let's take a look."
Adam immediately set off after the music, a sight that didn't surprise the rest of us at all. Every time there was some kind of event or festivity in whatever town we happened to be visiting, you could swear on the Divine Dragon that Adam Krensh would be right in the middle of it... more often than not picking fights and dragging the Twin Horns into unwanted situations.
We followed him through the winding streets.
What was usually a quiet and modest town had been transformed into a place of absolute joy and celebration.
From the tiniest toddler to the most grizzled, seasoned adventurer, everyone had left their homes to enjoy the music and celebrate alongside their fellow citizens.
"Excuse me," Angela said in a sickly sweet voice as she stopped a passer-by. "What is happening in town?"
The passer-by, a young-looking man with cropped hair, smiled back at her. A predictably dazed, foolish expression instantly washed over his face as he took in Angela's figure.
"A bard came to perform in town this morning," he replied eagerly. "He is sponsored by the Warend Trading Company, and rumour has it that Director Goodsky of Xyrus Academy is involved too!"
"Warend?" I echoed, my brow furrowing slightly.
"Director Goodsky?" Angela echoed in equal surprise.
"Yes, them!" the young man exclaimed, fidgeting nervously as his attention remained glued to Angela. "Ehm... Miss—"
"Forget it," Adam sighed, ruthlessly crushing the young fool's hopes. "She is way out of your league."
As the young man scurried away, Angela turned and stuck her tongue out at Adam.
"Party pooper," Angela muttered.
"Do we go to see this prodigal musician or not?" Adam insisted impatiently.
"The lad mentioned the Warend Trading Company. Do you think...?" I started, the question slipping out of my mouth before I could stop it.
"Finn is definitely involved," Angela agreed, crossing her arms and nodding decisively.
"Everywhere we go, it seems we keep hearing about that boy," Helen commented in deep amusement. "Not that we should expect anything less from someone who wanted to delve into a dungeon at the age of four."
With the thought of Finn Warend fresh in our minds, we followed the surging crowd straight into the heart of the concert.
—
Large banners of dark sapphire blue were flapping in the wind, the music seemingly orchestrating the very atmosphere itself.
Standing in the middle of Greengate's main plaza was a raised wooden platform, reminiscent of an auction block or a stage meant for a grand speech by the Draconsecrate.
The large blue flags bore a unique crest: a circlet of three creatures—a boar, a lion, and a lizard—chasing one another in an endless loop.
Beneath this central ring, protruding from the eternal chase, was a stark white blazon with the word "Dicathen" proudly written upon it.
"They certainly know how to play!" Helen exclaimed over the swelling orchestra.
The music—a style I had never heard before—seemed to emanate from everywhere at once, as if we were standing inside an architecturally advanced theatre rather than a bustling mountain plaza.
The musician was undeniably a mage... and an incredibly skilled one at that.
"This is certainly the work of Director Goodsky," Angela, who had been born in Xyrus City and graduated from its academy, pointed out. "No one else could employ such masterful sound magic."
"I don't see the musician, though!" Adam complained, and the eyes of the Twin Horns immediately turned to Durden, the tallest of us by a considerable margin.
"Oh, he is just a child!" Durden rumbled, his weathered face softening into a gentle smile.
A loud, cascading series of notes followed. It was a symphony that, contrary to regular Sapinese music that strove to invoke rigid elegance and sacrality, urged all of us to sing and dance along.
It possessed the infectious energy of a tavern ballad sung by drunken workers, yet retained the absolute mastery and finesse of the finest musicians hired by the nobility.
And then the crowd shifted, and I finally saw him: the lone musician.
He was a short boy, ten years old at most. Long black hair fell around his face like a messy curtain as he fervently played a... cane?
He cradled the simple wooden length against his body. One hand slid rapidly up and down the cane's top, while the other furiously plucked at the bottom; as if he were playing the invisible strings of a lute.
Green-tinted glasses shone in the late afternoon light, completely covering the boy's eyes as he moved tirelessly, accompanying his own music with rhythmic, energetic dance steps.
Angela clapped her hands cheerfully in time with the rhythm.
"He is very good, wouldn't you say? I bet he is a prodigy from Xyrus Academy," she noted.
"Do you think he is a friend of Finn's?" Helen asked. Our answer was instantaneous and unanimous:
"Yes," we all replied.
The musician suddenly raised his hand high into the air. The music reverberated across Greengate, settling over the crowd like falling snow. Then, in one swift, theatrical movement, he jerked his arm downwards, delivering one final, forceful pluck to whatever invisible strings he was playing.
A final, thunderous note echoed across the town, and the black-haired boy bowed deeply to his audience, who immediately erupted into sonorous applause—the Twin Horns included.
"Thank you! Thank you!" the boy exclaimed. His voice was soft, fitting his apparent age, yet it was projected and strengthened by mana like an augmenter thrice his years. "With this song, I formally invite all of you to Xyrus City, my friends! There, in the Magic Capital of the World, the greatest fair in Dicathian history will take place by the end of the year!"
The boy-musician raised his hand again, and a powerful, localised gust of wind swept through the plaza, making the blue banners bearing the name of the continent flutter proudly like the mane of a World Lion.
"The Interdicathian Fair!"