Ryvelin Estate – The Noble District
The Ryvelin estate stood as a symbol of wealth and legacy, an expansive manor of polished marble and towering archways. The estate was surrounded by a meticulously arranged garden, where exotic flowers of deep violet and radiant crimson bloomed in symmetrical harmony. Ornate stone pathways wove between trimmed hedges, leading to an inner courtyard where a grand fountain sculpted in the likeness of a dragon spewed water into a crystalline pool.
At the center of the garden, an elderly man, his silver hair neatly tied back, knelt beside a bed of moonlilies, their petals shimmering faintly in the moonlight. Dressed in a finely embroidered robe of deep navy, he tended to the plants with an almost meditative focus, a watering can in one hand. Despite his old age, his posture remained strong, his presence commanding, controlled pressure emmanating from him.
Standing a few steps away was a young woman clad in a refined but practical dress, dark fabric hugging her form. She held herself with cold poise, yet her fingers curled slightly in anxious thought.
"Wiped out," she murmured, voice carrying a trace of disbelief. "Forbidden magic. They tried calling upon a false god to revive an ancient figure..."
The old man paused, his watering can halting mid-pour. A scoff left his lips, sharp and derisive. "The Sho clan," he sneered, shaking his head. "Fools. They were lucky to have been granted a fief in the first place, yet they overstepped, thinking themselves more than they were." He let out another snort, standing to his full height. "Sho. Even their name was insignificant. A name destined to be forgotten."
He turned fully to face the young woman, sharp gray eyes settling on her with reassurance. "Do not worry. The church has gone too far this time. A noble house, erased like mere commoners? That cannot be ignored. The church must answer to us." His lips curled into a cold smile. "They must be mad if they think we would let this slide. This is the perfect opportunity to curb their influence in Hoshin." He stepped closer, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Send word to the other noble clans. We must strike together. A decisive blow."
The young woman nodded, but hesitation flickered across her face. She hesitated before speaking again. "Grandfather…" Her voice lowered, cautious. "Could the church also find out about… us?"
The old man let out a quiet chuckle, his expression turning wryly amused. "Child," he said, tilting his head slightly, "do you think our Ryvelin family is like the Sho clan? Some third-rate house with no foundation?" His fingers tapped lightly against the hilt of the cane he carried—not for support, but as a mark of authority. "Our history spans centuries. We are not some sheep that can easily be slaughtered."
The girl lowered her gaze, exhaling softly.
"Besides," the old man continued, "I am certain that some of the higher echelons of the church already have some suspicions about our family. But they do nothing. Because they understand that balance must be maintained. To act against us recklessly would throw the city into chaos. And the church… for all its arrogance, does not wish to invite chaos."
His words settled her. She nodded again, her previous unease melting into quiet acceptance.
The old man then changed the topic. "How goes your training?"
"I'm preparing to break through to Tier 3," she responded, straightening slightly. "But I have yet to reach the resonant brink."
The old man extended a hand, and she stepped forward, placing her palm in his. His fingers pressed lightly against her wrist, sending a thin stream of mana into her body. A moment passed before he nodded in approval.
"Hmm. Your body is fully mana-saturated." His expression remained thoughtful. "Do not be impatient. Keep trying. With your talent, your mind would align with your body in due time. Rushing will only cause imbalance."
They began walking through the garden, the old man offering guidance in measured tones. He spoke of resonance, of the importance of clarity in the moment of breakthrough. The path to power was treacherous, but with patience, mastery was inevitable.
The Anchor's Lodge hummed with quiet activity as night settled over the city. Mercenaries gathered in dimly lit corners, swapping stories over drinks, their laughter and hushed conversations blending into a steady murmur. The scent of roasted meat and spiced ale filled the hall, mixing with the lingering dampness of sweat and steel.
Gage sat alone at a table, tearing into his meal with the practiced efficiency of someone used to scarce rations. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes, sharp and ever-watchful, flicked up as Zephyr approached.
Zephyr didn't waste time. He slid into the seat across from Gage and said, "I've chosen Apex Predator."
Gage blinked. "What?" He set his fork down, looking at Zephyr with raised brows. "So quickly? You know you still have time to ruminate over it till tomorrow."
Zephyr shook his head. "No. I've made my decision. I'm going with Apex Predator."
Gage exhaled, leaning back in his chair, studying Zephyr with a thoughtful expression. "Apex Predator… instinct, sharpness, quick reflexes… hmm." He tapped the table absentmindedly. "Good choice. Usually favored by scouts in a mercenary party. They're a pain in the ass in one-on-one fights—too slippery, too unpredictable. Tactics don't work as well against them because they read movements too well. Only way to deal with them is overwhelming force and momentum."
He took another bite, chewing as he mulled it over. "Yeah, really great path for you, actually."
Then, something in his expression shifted. A flicker of something knowing, something wary. He set his fork down again, locking eyes with Zephyr. "But also, this path is one of the ones usually chosen by people who want to become mages down the line."
Zephyr didn't even try to lie. He knew where this was going. Instead, he met Gage's gaze, steady and resolute. "Sorry, Gage," he said, shaking his head. "I just can't give up on magic. I just can't. I at least have to try."
Gage sighed. A long, heavy sigh, filled with something close to disappointment—but not surprise. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice lowering. "I was like you when I was your age. Hellbent on forging my own magic path. Who's to tell me what I can and can't do, right?" He gave a humorless chuckle. "I almost died."
Zephyr didn't react, but Gage could see the shift in his expression—the faint tightening of his jaw, the flicker of wariness in his eyes.
"You think I've been telling you to give up on magic just because?" Gage continued. "No." He shook his head. "It's because for mages, the path is usually heavily centered around the mind. And when they fail, it's never just a setback. It's devastation. Especially for pathfinders."
Zephyr frowned.
Gage continued. "The third trial, where the world questions you—it's exponentially harder for them. Because they don't have a set path. There's also no potion to guide them into the right mental state. No book or manual telling them what the next step is. They have to know, down to their very core, what they want to be. And then they have to force the world to acknowledge it."
He leaned back slightly. "Most don't survive that trial, Zephyr. Some lose all sense of self. Others—" He made a short, sharp gesture near his temple. "Their heads literally pop like balloons."
Zephyr's breath caught for half a second. He hadn't expected that.
Gage saw the flicker of shock and nodded grimly. "Yeah. Now you get it. It's mostly either insanity. Or death. And it only gets worse the higher you climb."
Silence hung between them for a moment, thick with unspoken weight.
Then, Zephyr said, "But people do succeed."
Gage let out another sigh. "A fairly talented person might forge a Tier 1 path on their own. Tier 2 requires even more talent and understanding. Tier 3…" He tilted his head slightly. "You'd have to be a freaking prodigy. And Tier 4?... Well I've never heard of any pathfinder making it past Tier 3."
Zephyr clenched his fists under the table. It was possible. At least to tier 3...
Gage studied his face and sighed again, rubbing his temples. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, I can still just go up to Tier 2...maybe Tier 3." He shook his head. "But Zephyr, why do you think most people don't buy the Tier 2 magic manuals being sold on the streets? It's because the danger is still there. It's not a true pathway. Not fully acknowledged by the world. It's like a fluke. Even following the pathfinder's footsteps carries great risk. Just as much risk as the pathfinder."
His voice dropped lower, weightier. "A true pathway has to have atleastfour tiers. The noble clans have pathways up to Tier 5. Some say even Tier 6. The knight pathways? Also Tier 5. You see what I'm getting at?"
Zephyr said nothing.
Gage leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "You're not the only genius in the world, Zephyr. Many have walked this path before you. Most met death. The lucky ones met failure that cost them everything. I was lucky—I hadn't fully committed to that path before I was corrected. I'm trying to do the same for you."
He exhaled, voice quieter now. Almost pleading. "Give it up, kid. The knight path is strong on its own. With pathways up to Tier 5. If you have so much talent that you're willing to throw your life away, why not just put it into the knight path instead? See if you can reach Tier 5 there."
Zephyr felt the weight of those words settle over him. He knew Gage was right. Every logical part of him screamed that this was the safer, surer path. The stronger path.
But then there was the other part.
The part that knew his curiosity would never die. The part that would gnaw at him, eat away at him every time he thought about magic. It would never let him settle. Not even if he became the strongest knight in existence.
And so, when he finally looked up again, his gaze was different. Settled.
Gage saw the look and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his expression was resigned. "I can't force you," he said. "At the end of the day, it's your life to live. If you choose to waste it, then so be it. But I won't be a part of that."
He pushed his plate aside. "I'll still teach you what I can about the knight's path. I've committed to that already. But that's it."
They stared at each other, unspoken understanding passing between them. This was where their paths diverged. Gage would still be here. He would still train him. But they weren't truly walking the same road anymore.
Zephyr exhaled and nodded. He stood, leaving Gage to his meal, and made his way upstairs.
Cedric was fast asleep when Zephyr entered their shared room. Whatever job he and Gage had gone on earlier must have drained him completely.
Zephyr walked over to the window, placing a hand against the cool glass as he stared out at the moonlit city.
I must now start actively looking for ways to practice magic.
His mind was set. His path was chosen.
There was no turning back now.