Garbed in a long sleeved tunic that parted at the chest, the ropes hanging loosely like vines from his neck, Kaelor walked through the bustling town street. His sleeves had been folded to the elbows, revealing firm forearms traced with faint lines of strength, and the hem of his tunic was tucked neatly into snug black pants that flexed with every step he took.
This time around, the townsfolk, busy raising timber frames and packing clay for bricks, paused mid-motion. Hammers stilled. Voices hushed. And then, almost as one, they bowed. Not because of fear, but reverence. For Kaelor had changed. His long hair, once wild like a lion’s mane, had been trimmed short by Mildred’s careful hand. The cut revealed a face of sharpened grace, clean, angled cheekbones, lashes like golden strokes of sunlight, and eyes that held peace. His aura had thickened, drawn taut like a bowstring. Ignis, his flaming longsword, was slung across his back, its blade bare, catching glints of morning sun like a whisper of flame.
He returned their greetings with only a subtle nod and continued on, his boots crunching against the dirt path. As he neared the forge, a place where bellows roared and sparks flew, he paused. The flames within danced, casting long shadows of the smith hammering away. Kaelor studied the fire, the rhythm of metal against metal, as if pondering something.
What was Vulcanus smelting? Or more importantly, where did he get the ore?
Then he moved on, passing through the great gate guarded by two Guardsmen. The guards snapped into a bow as he crossed into the outer town, a region more than three times the size of the inner keep. A sprawl of fertile land, several faces, and endless labour stretched out before him.
It was there that he noticed a small commotion. Farmers were dragging Vi, visibly reluctant, toward the farmlands. The girl resisted like a cat being pulled toward water. Then her eyes found him.
"Lord Kaelor! Thank goodness you came out," Vi called, breaking free and hastening toward him. Her voice was laced with relief. "There’s a problem with the farm. It hasn’t rained in days, the well’s running dry, and nearly two thousand people plus the crops need more than it can offer."
She reached him, slightly out of breath, but her urgency was mixed with mischief. To put it plainly, she wasn’t just reporting a crisis, she was also fleeing one.
Kaelor stepped toward her in turn, their paths converging. Her large, stormy-blue eyes pleaded subtly, as though trying to draw sympathy while shifting responsibility. It made him chuckle inwardly.
"My Lord!" came a sterner voice, Elsa, flanked by several farmers. The group bowed low, their faces marked by sun, sweat, and concern.
"Lady Vi speaks true," Elsa began, wiping her brow. "We just want a simple spell. We’ve had no rainfall for almost two weeks. The population’s surged since we started receiving new arrivals, and the paddies, Starlight Rice especially, drink more water than normal grain. The well’s just not enough. If you hadn’t created Eonwheat, this land would’ve turned sour within ten years."
"Simple? You call making it rain a simple spell?" Vi exclaimed with a mock glare, folding her arms dramatically. But when she caught Kaelor’s gaze, sharp and silent as a hawk’s, her defiance melted to a sheepish glance.
He turned to Elsa, his voice calm. "I shall attend to it."
Elsa nodded, satisfied, and withdrew with the others, leaving only Vi beside him.
Kaelor didn’t speak, merely watched her. And though his silence wasn’t cold, it was weighty. Like the pause between thunder and lightning.
Finally, Vi exhaled, hot, irritated air huffing from her lips. Her previously confident expression crumpled into one of frustration. "What?!"
"It would not be hard for you to cast a spell," Kaelor replied evenly. "What happened?"
Vi bit down on her lower lip, eyes flitting away. Then she turned sharply, brandishing her wooden training sword like a banner of shame and began to walk off. "I have no more Focus Crystals," she said, not looking back. "Without them, an Acranist is no different from any other woman with a stick."
She stopped, tilted her head toward him with a dramatic sigh, and pouted faintly. "I’m just a helpless woman learning to fight."
Kaelor extended his hand slowly. "Bring the crystals. I’ll ask Mildred if she has any used ones left, I want to see what I can do with them."
Vi turned back fully. And when she did, her eyes, those deep, glimmering pools, lit up like stars. It wasn’t just hope in her expression. It was awe, wonder, maybe even something like joy.
Kaelor blinked. He would never say it aloud, but for the briefest moment... even he was caught off guard by how dazzling her face looked when it glowed like that.
Kaelor sat in the parlour with Vi and Mildred, the warm glow of the hearth casting flickering light over their thoughtful expressions. Before them, resting atop a wooden table, were eleven dull crystals, Focus Crystals.
Six had come from Mildred, who leaned back with a composed expression, arms crossed. She had been gifted ten by his mother and had used them sparingly over the years. Beside her, Vi sat cross-legged, eyes flicking between the crystals and Kaelor. The five she brought had a different story, these were all she carried to the banquet on the night of her betrayal.
It was a small but significant detail, revealing just how wealthy she’d been before the treachery that awaited her.
The contrast was telling. Mildred had wielded her supply with long-term purpose; Vi had walked into a mere banquet with five Focus Crystals!
Kaelor leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he studied the crystals with narrowed eyes.
"System," he said calmly, "fuse ten of them."
A soft chime echoed in his ears.
His breath hitched. Five hundred Fusion Points. That was a heavy price. Once gone, he would have barely three hundred left, and no clue when next he would earn more. Every point mattered. Every point was a step closer to survival, or doom.
His brown eyes gleamed faintly as he inhaled deeply and made his choice.
He needed to know. What lies beyond the common? What could be forged from the rare, distilled essence of Focus Crystals? What could be more precious, more powerful?
He was about to find out.