The shadows lengthened over the town hall as Resh Ganimatalo finished her tally of the goods to be traded, and the taxes she expected from those. Kazar had undergone growing pains, but now things were looking up under her enlightened rule. Resh was a fine administrator from a long line of advisors and civil servants. Even in the desolate expanses beyond the Deathshield Woods, her skills had made a difference. Influence and coin were her weapons.

Something clicked in front of her.

Resh raised her head to meet the large chestnut eyes of the town mage. The woman was disgraced, but still, she had her uses. Her nature as a recluse meant that she kept away from politics and did not interfere with the affairs of the city, which suited Resh just fine.

Except, that was not quite right.

The mage Resh knew was a broken thing with a subdued air and a bitter smile. This one was different. Resh noticed an intensity in the woman’s posture that sent shivers up her spine. The hair at the back of her neck stood up as well-honed instincts came into play.

“How did you get in here?’ she demanded. And that was a mistake.

The woman took her sweet time to answer. She had her wavy black hair up and her ugly scar smoldered in the light of the dying sun.

“I set up the wards and detection constructs in this wing. In fact, I maintain and repair all the spells protecting this town.”

Resh could read between the lines.

“Is this about the witch? You know that we are at a delicate junction in the future of the city. I cannot have wild practitioners spreading chaos where—”

“Shhhhh,” Varska replied, a light finger on her lips.

Resh wanted to scold the woman for belittling her, and realized that she could not. Her throat vibrated and her mouth formed words, but the world ignored her. The end of her sentence died in silence.

“In the world of politics, power only matters when it is seized and used. I allowed you to have free reign over the city because, in the end, this is the gods-forsaken shithole where I will spend the rest of my life in exile. I could not care less if you clear a new section of the forest for some mud-faced yokels to grow tubers on. I will happily let you count all the beans and design all the pigsties. There is, however, one thing that still brings some measure of excitement to poor little me: the supreme arts.”

Resh knew she could stand up and leave, but she spotted something in the gaze of the woman sitting opposite her, something she had never noticed before. Life.

“So, Resh dearie, I came here to tell you that the witch is mine. You are a smart leader. She is not worth the price I would exact if you interfered.”

Something lifted, and Resh found that she could speak again.

“You are unwise to provoke me, Varska. There will be repercussions.”

“There could be, and then we could play an interesting game of one-upmanship. Do you know why I am here, banished?”

Resh kept silent. There were talks. Most reports had been erased. Varska had come from a powerful family.

“I am here because I never lost a game of one-upmanship,” the woman explained, and there was something horrible hidden in the meaning of that sentence.

“I have been joined by a fellow practitioner of the supreme arts for the first time in three years, and you will leave her be, or else.”

Resh knew when she could win, and also when it would cost entirely too much.

“As long as she does not break rules, I have no cause to go after her,” she declared to save some face.

“See that you do not. Goodbye, Resh.”

Varska stood up and something loosened around Resh’s ankle. Blood left the mayor’s face, carried away by a thundering heart.

The mage had been ready to use offensive magic on her, a grave crime. Resh had not felt a thing. Resh could not have done a thing. She knew of no one who could stop Varska.

It did not matter that she was a disgraced caster one minor crime away from the axeman’s blade when no one in Kazar would even try her.

By the time Resh brought herself under control, Varska had already disappeared.

In the following moment of quiet, the sun dipped beneath the horizon.

For the next three days, Viv developed a routine. It was the second time it had happened since coming on Nyil, however and contrary to the Fort Stone routine, this one did not suck ass. Mornings were spent learning Enorian with Farren at a pace that only earth geniuses could have matched. Between the ‘polymath’ thing and her high acuity, she was able to assimilate an incredible amount of information in a very short time, especially because she had Old Imperial as a base. It was fantasy bullshit, but it was fantasy bullshit to her advantage and that was sort of cool.

It was in the afternoon that things picked up. With Solfis’ nature partially revealed, Viv had no qualms bringing him with her to her visits. Varska was more than accommodating, and helped Viv with her practice, going so far as to provide Solfis some of the tools he had lacked. For example, a neutralizing circle and a charged item were used to allow Viv to develop her mana perception with great ease. The item was a small, levitating ball whose sole purpose was to emit mana. Varska also loaded it with different hues to further allow Viv to tell the difference.

Even if Viv felt like she had some difficulties, the playful nature of Solfis’ training softened the blow and kept things interesting. It was fine to feel stupid on occasion if the outcome was good progress on her skill. Her results spoke for themselves.

Mana absorption: Beginner 4