I rammed the dagger home into the boy's back as soon as we found the camp. It wasn't far away, only a few minutes walk. He croaked and coughed, choking on his own blood as he died.
'That makes thirteen.'
The boy's wound bubbled as his lungs tried to pull in air, while they were filled with blood. As I watched him die, I felt odd. It wasn't regret exactly. Leaving witnesses was not something I was willing to do. I shook my head, ignoring the feeling. As I looted the camp, finding nothing but a sack filled with 50 bits, awful bronze jewelry, and another fine arming sword, the feeling wouldn't disappear.
I returned to Cloud, strapped the two swords to the saddlebags, and continued on my path. It took several hours of contemplation before I realized what I was feeling, or more accurately, wasn't.
Killing was easy.
What plagued my mind wasn’t regret or disgust for my actions; it was the lack of it. It was as if a part of my mind recognized that a normal person would and perhaps should feel burdened by the killing. It cried out for me to address the problem within myself. Even after four hours of riding, I couldn't force the feeling to go away.
Whatever this was, I needed to resolve my issue before reaching Harlock. I couldn't have such a conflict clouding my mind when I reached the capital city.
~
At night, I decided to ignore the feeling and focus on practicing magic. I had a prevailing question in my mind, and I was desperate to try it.
I stood staring at an arcane circle that heated the air, drawn into the dirt. It was perfect, save for one thing: a circle. The runes were drawn as if the circle were a foot wide. What would happen if I tried to create a binding? I anchored the belief that the binding would be successful, and the circuit would work as intended.
Summoning up my animus, I imagined the circle was there. Then I created a binding between it and a campfire burning a few feet to the right as a source.
'The binding worked!'
I modulated the strength, increasing it to my maximum; however, there was almost no flow of primal energy. I released the animus but held the binding intact.
Just as I was about to release the focused binding, I had a thought.
'What if I drew a circle now?'
Shrugging, I did just that. Using a stick, I drew a wide circle in the center of the runes, exactly how I envisioned when creating the binding.
The fire went out instantly, and the small amount of grass and dried wood on the ground charred to a crisp. I could smell the burnt plant matter in the air from how rapidly the temperature rose.
"Wait, Is that how......" I said with excitement.
Grinning, I relit the fire. Instead, I used an unfocused binding, repeating the process. The binding worked, then I released my animus.
Once I separated myself from a binding by releasing my animus, I could no longer feel it. I took my stick again and drew the circle just as I imagined in my animus.
I cackled as I immediately felt the air warming. "That's how the teapot works! The circle that completes the circuit is the bottom of the teapot. I bet there is a set of runes inside the cylindrical base," I shouted. Cloud looked at me, confused, then went back to grazing. It would appear that so long as the circle matched the one I solidified within my animus, the circuit would function as normal.
Next, I tried it with runes, but that ended in failure. Removing a rune changed the meaning of the arcane formula; the binding wouldn't stick, no matter how hard I pushed my will. Also, the trick with the circle only worked on the load, not the source.
I moved on to more experimentation. What if I drew a square instead? It worked; however, the circuit was slightly inefficient at around 20 to 30%. The sphere of influence was still a circle, at the center of the shape, but the diameter was directly related to the largest distance between two points on the shape. Forcing an increase in the sphere of influence only served to exacerbate the problem.
How could someone break an unfocused binding since, once the animus is released, they could no longer affect the binding even after reactivation? Simple, overwrite the binding or destroy the arcane circle.
An arcane circuit couldn't be bound twice, and the second binding overrode the first if the will behind it was more powerful. It was simple to break the binding while it was attached to your animus.
I went to bed in my toasty bedroll, satisfied with my progress. The discovery of what I started to call incomplete arcane circles was monumental. As sleep embraced me, my mind filled with all the things I could create.
~
Cloud ate up the roads, and in a matter of days, we crossed into Harlock territory. Fortunately, no more bandits tried to block my way. There were enough villages and towns with inns for me to rest my head and have a bath. In that time, I bought a few useful items. The top metal rings of a barrel, water paint, a few metal cups, a small iron platter, and a copper pot.
After resting in a small grassy plain a few miles away from the Harlock border, I got to work. I used the paint to draw the runes for heat absorption into the inner ring of the hoop and added a few runes to the formula to regulate how much energy it could take from the air. Too much and it could put out the fire.
I managed to fit two heat absorption circles. Next, I painted the runes for heating water onto the metal trays and created an unfocused binding between them and the two sources, creating a complete arcane circuit for heating water. Then I painted a circle at the bottom of the pot and cup.
After that, I placed the ring around the fire and sat cross-legged with a cold cup of water. I placed the cup onto the iron platter, completing the circuit, and in a minute, it heated to a low simmer.
Technically, I just created my first independent arcane circuit. Anyone could use it with a bit of instruction. It was crude and inelegant, but it worked. I was still far away from a proper magus, but time and resources were all I needed.
~
I rode into a small village a full thirteen days into my journey, hoping for a decent meal and a bath. My disappointment was palpable. I never found much value in the comparison between suffering. There was always someone who suffered more than you. But does that mean your suffering is irrelevant? No, suffering is still suffering. Lesser or greater matters little. But the wretches I saw while in, whatever this town was, almost made me grateful for how I was raised.
Most peasants were thin due to a lack of food. But these unfortunate souls were starving. The shops that lined the street sold nothing of value. The fruits and vegetables were rotten. One woman was selling what looked to be roasted rats. Starving children were seen on the dirt road, some naked, their level of destitution reaching levels I had never seen. I almost reached into my pack to toss a boy some dried meat; he was so thin. Until I reached the center of the village, where the Temple of Anier was. The building was painted white, currently closed, though peasants stood outside even though it wasn't an eight-day. Some knelt deep in prayer as they held sick children.
Others repeated the prayers taught to them as children. My sympathy died in its infancy.
'Really, Myr, what did you expect? Now you understand, don't you? For all you've done, somewhere deep, the poison they spat in your ear still lingers. Look at those wretches, starving, hungry, sick, begging at the altar of Anier. They should storm the door, drag the priests and priestesses out, take the silver and fine embroidery that adorns her temples, and use that to feed themselves. Do they take the opportunity? No. Instead, they pray and pray, then die like dogs in the street. They don't deserve pity. Rid yourself of this weakness. If we can't tear it out in one go, then we slowly carve it out, piece by piece, body by body. Until we become perfect.'
The grip of self-doubt that plagued my mind was released. It was the damn teaching that haunted me. Indoctrination, carved into the minds of youths to create a weak and docile citizenry. They lacked the ability to question and choose, like slaves or animals.
'Look at the children, what will they become in five years? Simple, they would be corpses or their parents, continuing the ridiculous cycle, staying caged. Praying to a goddess that doesn't exist instead of forging their own destiny. Steel your mind, Myr, look at what you have accomplished. And look at what you could have become.'
Pity turned into loathing. With a kick, I spurred my horse forward, wanting not to be infected by their weakness. I had goals, desires, a destiny of my own. They had nothing, not even hope. And thus, they were not even worthy to lick my boots.
~
Forest gave way to flat planes of grass in the distance. I saw Grenwood, the capital of Harlock. A smaller city than Lakeshore, but from what I have researched, it had a larger population. The city, much like Lakeshore, had a central keep, though less imposing. As Cloud eased his way down the dirt road, we ran into travelers and guards, the first I had seen in days. Though unlike the Baron’s forces, they were dressed like little more than cheap mercenaries. Several times, I had gotten a warning about them. With little oversight from the Baroness, corruption was rampant, and the complaints were countless.
One of the guardsmen eyed me a bit too much, but they seemed to be busy doing whatever guardsmen do. Interestingly, as I rode towards the gates, peasants moved out of my way. Cloud was just that intimidating, and most peasants were smart enough to avoid people who dressed nicely and rode massive horses. After 18 days of constant travel, riding Cloud was second nature. A small kick or pull of the reins was enough to communicate complex tasks to him. He anticipated my desires and I, his actions. I made sure to buy him apples and sugar cubes every time they were available.
Finally, I reached the front of the line. I refused to dismount since, even from my height, I could smell the people. The guardsman in cheap leather walked over to me, looking me and my horse up and down. I gave him my best Surian impression. Staring at him as if he were an insect.
"State yer' business." The guard said.
"My business is my concern; your concern is to not bother me further." I reached into a pocket and tossed a silver eagle at his feet. If there was one thing I learned about this city while traveling. Never show weakness; it only leads to you getting taken advantage of. As for the guard, they only understood two things: force and coin. Not having enough of either would only result in you getting bent over a barrel or suffering an accident. The boy, and that's what he was by the pitch of his voice, picked it up eagerly.
"Where's the best Inn guardsman?" I asked.
A man, wearing actual plate armor, walked over and speared the boy with an intimidating gaze. He turned over the silver rather quickly.
"If I can just have yer name, you can be on your way," he said, sounding properly aristocratic.
"Sera, nice to speak to someone with manners," I said.
He raised an eyebrow and dipped his head. "The Kingfisher is one of the better Inns. Proper food, a bath, clean beds, you'll not go wrong."
I looked him up and down as if he had just now started to become more than an insect. "Very well, guardsman..."
"Donnic." He said.
"Donnic, if you could direct me,"
"Straight down the road, it's on your right, blue building, can’t miss it."
I nodded and kicked Cloud forward. No one stopped me.
~
It was disgusting. Everyone stank to high heaven. The streets were dirty and filled with shifty-looking merchants. In the space of five minutes, I saw a man get robbed, another stabbed, and a woman giving birth in an alley. I trusted none of the food on offer. Especially the mystery meat, though there were a few stalls selling books.
I found the Kingfisher rather quickly. Cloud cut a clean path through the crowd. Owning a horse of his majesty was a sign of stature. As I approached the inn, a boy, whom I had seen earlier take another man's horse to an attached stable, ran forward.
I dismounted.
"May I take your mount, Milady?" He said and curtsied, of all things.
"He needs to be properly watered. Clean water, boy. A brushing and proper hay if I find my horse is ill after the fortune I spent on him...Well, do I need to explain what will happen? "
The boy hid his fear well.
~
I walked into the inn as if I owned the place, looked about until I found the man...No, woman in charge. She was large, short-haired, with a wicked scar across her cheek. Considering she was in decently tailored men's clothes and was barking orders at everyone from behind a bar, she had to be the owner. I carried everything I owned of value beyond the horse and saddle itself.
Stepping up to the counter, the woman speared me with her blue eyes.
"What do you want, girl?" she asked, her voice raspy.
"Rooms for a week, with a hearth, a bath, and a meal. Proper meat. I can tell if it isn’t." I didn’t so much as flinch at her fierce gaze, nor was I intimidated by her stature.
"Ain’t got no rooms with a hearth. They’re taken."
I tried to add a warning in my voice, "Triple whatever your current rates. For the week."
A few of the other patrons paused as they heard my words.
The woman licked her lips, looking me up and down in a new light.
The boy was half a head taller than his mother, I assumed, since they shared the same features.
"Ya, Ma'," he said as soon as he approached the counter.
"Throw out Nevel and get Tina to prep the room. He's been squatting for too long. We got a new guest." She instructed, then nodded to me.
Her son looked me up and down.
"Right, Ma',” he said, then went upstairs.
"So, how about a drink. It’s a bit before Tina finishes. Grenwood may be a shite hole on the arse end of the empire, but we use proper linens and don't put rats in the stew."
For the fifth time in the last three weeks, I asked, "Do you have Arbor West?"
The woman smiled, showing that one of her front teeth was chipped. "That I do."
I sighed and smiled, "I'll take a whole bottle with my meal. For now, I'll have whatever strong liquor you have.”
She poured me a tankard of some strong wine. It burned as I swallowed.
"So, girl, what's a delicate thing like you doing in Grenwood?"
I raised an eyebrow.
'That's the first time I've been called delicate.'
"Redstone and Farketh have been at each other's throats, and the Baron has been 'intense' with his retribution. I don’t fancy being caught up in all that. What's your name by the way?"
The woman shrugged, "Lily." I tried to hold back my surprise at her name, only barely managing. She continued, "To think, a baroness and a magus were killed, Farketh is probably history at this point." I nodded.
"They found them?" I asked.
"Not that I've heard, but come on. They dead, ain't no point in holding out hope this long. I guess one of the Baron's Bastards will get the title."
I raised an eyebrow, "Didn't know he had a bastard. Though that does explain why his relationship with Baroness Vinlan is so strained."
"It was a rumor a few years back. So, either they get to work makin' another heir or the bastard gets it. There's always cousin nieces and such, I guess."
"What about Baroness Harlock? She intends to throw her lot in?" I asked.
"Ha! Not likely."
"The rumors are true, then," I said in a low breath.
"Aye, she’s busy with her own affairs, the woman doesn't care what people think, and anyone who complains too much usually ends up in the gutter with a slit throat."
'This city is perfect.'
"If someone wants to buy a house, who should I speak to? Might stay a while." I asked.
Lily smiled widely, "The magistrate's office, but there's a saying in this city. You can get anything with coin, but keeping it costs blood."
I released my mask, letting my true face show, "Oh, no need to worry about me. These hands of mine aren't clean."
Her blue eyes stared into mine, "I've heard tales about violent Northern women, nice to see they’re true. Keep the iron in your spine, and you'll make it in this city. I didn't catch your name."
"Sera,"
Lily offered me a gloved hand, and we shook, "Welcome to Grenwood. Now, what do you think of my boy? He is strong; going to take over my business eventually, a good prospect for a husband, no?"