The Beginning of His and His Adventure

by Twentee Nyne

There is an initial meeting that always decides the fate of one or more person's future. Maybe slight spoilers for Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World.

For my love Meremere!

This might be riddled with typos and mistakes 'cause I spent the majority of the day working on it and I didn't really proof read afterwards.

Basically, this is Richter and Aster's first meeting. Meremere and I are on a huge Richter and Aster kick right now, and I promised her that I would write this for her. 3 This is based off of our plot in Tales of Retaliation instead of the Dawn of the New World plot. See, in our world (the better world), Richter is the son of Magnius. He runs away from his father and his father's work at a young age and ends up wandering both Sylvarant and Tethe'alla for years on his own. (I imagined that he would either be aware of The Otherwordly Gate or he would somehow acquire a Rheiard in order to go between worlds. His father is Magnius, he has connections like that.) Anyway, he is in hiding from his father, but while he travels across Tethe'alla he is constantly discriminated against for being a half-elf. He doesn't fit in despite where ever he goes, but that all changes when fate throws him a curveball and convinces him to stay in Sybak at the Research Academy where he meets . . .

Aster! Good ol' Aster. I realize that the piece is more Richter-oriented than Aster, and I tried to put more interaction near the end, but I didn't want to end the piece with the two of them rattling on about scientific theories. But, now they have met, and as they say, the rest is history!

Oh, and the the title is a play on the song from the DotNW soundtrack called "The End of His and Her Adventure."

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"You aren't from around here, am I right?"

He was right, but the satisfaction of victory lost its strength when half the city correctly made the same assumption.

"A guy like you has no business in a bustling city like this. You seem more like the simplistic type. I have a certain eye for these things y'know. It's what makes me such a good merchant."

It was only slightly unnerving the first few times he was told to leave the city. However, after the tenth person, frustration and aggravation took precedence over minor irritation.

"Listen to me now boy. If you stay in this city for too long it'll swallow you up before you even realize you're missing your boots. Meltokio isn't for the light-hearted unless you're a stuffy noble or praise-Martel church fanatic. Get out before ya' regret comin' here in the first place. I'll tell ya' what. I'll give ya' a pass for the Grand Tethe'alla Bridge. You make your way across that and check out Sybak. I think you'll find yourself more suited in that environment than here."

That was a first. He had never been offered a free pass across the bridge. It did not truly matter -- he had crossed the bridge illegally multiple times -- but the shopkeeper did not need to be enlightened. Accepting the new card with an outstretched hand, he nodded once in what could be taken as gratitude before exiting the street shop and stepping out onto the sun-bathed cobblestones where richly dressed women hurried through on their way to the upper district and dirt-smudged children shamelessly begged for crumbs and coins. Perhaps they were all right. He did not blend well with the city scene. But, how could one blend when one was not from the same area?

More importantly, the same dimension?

Card in hand, Richter Abend stood solidly outside the gates to the city of Sybak. The Grand Tethe'alla Bridge stretched out behind him; intricate metalwork and a firm foundation that connected two continents on either side of the expansive river. There had been no trouble in presenting his pass and making the trek from one end to the other. There had never been any trouble in crossing the bridge, pass or not, but doing so legally offered Richter a different view. Unfortunately, he had ignored it entirely. The world was a beautiful place, truly, with luscious vegetation and brightly colored flowers and wildlife of every shape and size. But such beauty only held its profound effect in the eyes of those who wished to see it for what it was. Richter did not see pretty flowers and a rich blue sky. He saw future specimens for experimentation; he saw a carefree vessel of life never to be burdened with the hardship of reality. Reality veiled his senses from what the civilians in Meltokio, or the villagers in Ozette, considered to be the simple pleasures of life. The flower could be beautiful until a storm decimated its petals. And even when the flower is given the second chance that human beings are not, it will only raise to fall again, and nobody will take the time to make this cycle of "simplistic pleasure" into a coherent law of nature.

Pathetic.

He had no reason to be where he was. Sybak could not offer him anything more than any other village or city in Tethe'alla. It was always a similar story. He will cross the city limits to find over appreciated humans going about their daily chores while children are taught to continue their parents' generation of idiocy and irrelevance. Shopkeepers will point out his foreign appearance and heave up their most profound advice which always has the same ring to it: "You don't belong in this town. Get out before it is too late." Passer-bys will exert their mightiest efforts to make it seem like they are not staring over their shoulders despite their turned heads and narrowed eyes, and more than one guardsman will latch their gazes onto his blade while their hands subconsciously curl about the hilts and shafts of their own weapons. It was always the same and would always be the same so long as he was forced to relinquish his freedom and be confined to the so-called secrecy of an unknown country. The benefits of a foreign land only reached as far as the land's prejudices, and Tethe'alla was just as bad -- worse -- as Sylvarant.

Richter's hand balled into a fist with the new card crunched in between his curled fingers. There was no reason to enter Sybak, and while there were plenty of reasons not to, Richter had no back-up plan. He had no front plan. He was virtually improvising every step of the way, and if the condition of his recent memories was anything to judge by, he was quite possibly one of the worst improvisers in the history of either world. It would be a much easier fact to live with if he could just wrangle some sort of life in general. If such a thing existed for a stray, wandering half-elf, Sybak was certainly not going to be the town to offer it. Advancing toward the smudge of Tethe'alla, Richter's view widened and clarified. Sybak was not a big town. It could not be dubbed an official city by Richter's terms. What few buildings there were hardly protruded into the sky, and each one was decorated (or perhaps not decorated) with the most melancholy of color scheme. Gray and dark hues of blue were unceremoniously splashed across the brick work of the two most prominent edifices of the town. Unbeknownst to their purposes, Richter disregarded them for second-hand business headquarters. That was the typical meaning to such a building, as he had discovered, and such a thing had very, very little meaning to him.

The gates of the town were flung open in the most non-flattering way possible. A town like Sybak should not showcase its lack of prosperity and societal attraction. The expansive view of the town just from the gates alone was enough to ward off potential visitors, but in a way, that risky maneuver somehow appealed to Richter Abend. Perhaps it was the uniqueness of the situation. Perhaps it was the carefree attitude that suggested "I don't care who sees what I have to offer. This is what I am, and this is what everyone shall see." Whatever the cause, Richter was drawn through those mediocre gates and onto the first path of the town of Sybak.

And nothing was different.

The sidelong glances, the not-so-under-the-breath mutterings, it all compiled into a large batch of déjà vu that Richter much preferred to never experience again. Drab pathways of Sybak or glorious streets of Meltokio, the experience did not alter in the slightest for Richter. The range of scowls fluctuated between blunt noble or subtle peasant, but a scowl was still meant to belittle a person, and Richter had received enough of them throughout the past couple of years to shrink his size from giant to infant. But he did not scowl back. He did not acknowledge the criminal by accepting the scowl for what it was. Instead, he aggravated those around him by ignoring their expressions that were meant to invoke some reaction of disdain. He would in turn belittle them for having the audacity to act against the general system of mannerly conduct. Of course, Richter himself stepped outside of that system quite often, but he did not have the time to fret over his own actions when they so very rarely had anything to do with another being of life.

Stepping around the main square of the town, Richter folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. He could concentrate with much more ease when he wasn't forced to endure the displeasure of modern life. Instead of being distracted by the small child moving in convulsive patterns in what could possibly be defined as a dance, Richter was free to let himself by distracted by his own never-ending thoughts. Relaxation was not something that came easy to him, and he did not suspect that it ever would so long as he attained the mind that he currently owned. Not once had it ever decreased its rate of thought to allow its owner a short interval of complete rest. It was a curse, and possibly one that he deserved, but he still found it irksome nevertheless. From his current position, he would have to first decide where he would escape to next. He would not remain within Sybak, that much was for certain, but where would he travel to? He had scoured the southwestern continent of Tethe'alla and found no potential place of residence (or even tolerance). He had explored possibly a third of the northern continent which he currently presided upon, and the solitary location that offered hospitality, if only temporary, was a rugged dwarf who seemed to be preoccupied with something that Richter could only begin to guess. But Richter had grown rapidly accustomed to a lifestyle of isolation, and even a stable roof was not worth accepting it if meant being in the constant company of another (regardless of how kind the other seemed to be). There was another large continent that Richter had yet to explore, and the city of Altamira resided on an island all of its own, but the idea of a "tourist attraction" repelled Richter like fire from water. The map which he had purchased also showed a continent to the far north east that was covered with snow to the point where the land mass itself seemed to be made of ice, but the bare land and lack of vegetation would not be helpful to neither Richter's love for experimentation nor his soul.

A deep sigh inflated Richter's chest and poured out from his nostrils. He did not regret his decision. He had to latch himself onto that concept and guide his current life by it; he did not regret his decision, and he could believe it fully considering-

"Get away from me! If the belt broke, it's because you stretched it too far! It was perfectly fine when I sold it!"

"Oh, is that right? You're awful quick to blame others for your own stuff, kid. Why don't you try it and you can tell me if you think I broke it?"

"Hey, no! Don't! Leave me alon-ah!"

Richter's eyes opened to the ruckus caused in a dirty corner next to one of the large buildings that he found out to actually be a library rather than a business edifice. He had not been anymore drawn to it upon discovering that fact, but the noise next to it was loud enough to alert the entire square. Except, nobody was offering their attention. The gray-clad men and women continued to rush by to whatever errand that more than likely had very little importance. But all of those sidelong glances that Richter received upon entering the town were spared from the small boy surrounded by a burly man. The boy appeared to be young, or maybe just growing into his adulthood, but the man in front of him did not have youth to his age. More importantly, he did not have a trace of contented expression anywhere on his pig-like countenance. Putting all of his concentration into the one basket, Richter watched and witnessed as the man raised a belt above his head only to bring it down with force onto the street boy. The slap of contact between belt and skin resounded through to Richter's range of hearing, and the shouts of refusal had to have reached even farther across the square.

"Do ya' still think I broke it? It seems to be workin' just fine for you. Maybe ya' planned it that way, eh?"

There was no verbal response to the man's question aside from another pain-laced bellow.

"I'll teach ya' to mess with me, kid! You'll regret everythin' by the time I'm done!"

He rose the belt for another strike, but it never came. The larger man's face wrinkled in startled confusion when his hand brought forth only a piece of the belt that had been whole just a moment prior. He stared at the slab of leather for a moment longer before whipping around in search of the culprit that had interfered with his so-called lesson. However, instead of finding the easily-overpowered victim that he had imagined, his beady eyes met with the pale green eyes of resistance.

"What do ya' think you're doin'? Who the hell are you'?"

Large-man's shouts floated out of his mouth on a cloud of foul-smelling breath, but Richter did not falter. In his one hand projected the blade of a sword with restrained potential while in the other hand dangled the length of missing belt. He chucked the ruined article at Large-man's feet and met his gaze with a sturdy look of dissatisfaction.

"The question is, who the hell are you to dictate what should happen to another being?"

Richter's voice may have been heavy with meaning, but any profound characteristic was lost in the simple-minded disease that was Large-man's brain.

"That brat? He sold me a broken item, and he deserves what he's gettin'! Nobody messes with me and gets away with it!"

The street boy behind Large-man peeked his head around to look at Richter. He rubbed at a reddening welt across his cheek, but his mouth apparently did not understand the concept of appropriateness.

"It wasn't broken! You broke it yourself!"

"Boy, I will kill you!"

Large-man raised his hand once more to strike at the street boy, but his fist did not even begin to arc before he was forced to choose between life or death. Sword at his throat, Large-man's eyes quivered and the bully-like mask melted away to reveal the truth of his personality.

"Wouldjya get that thing away from me?! I was only doin' what needed to be done! But if you're gonna be Mr. Hero, then you can deal with the whiny kid. But just you wait until you're alone, and you'll regret what you did here!"

With the threat of pain on his heels, Large-man backed away from Richter's blade and half-scampered, half-stumbled into the back alleys behind the library. Richter did not see if the man looked back to see the reaction to his words of future misfortune. More than likely Large-man's threat was as hollow as his head, and Richter did not intend to stick around Sybak for much longer anyway. He sheathed his blade at his side and glanced down at the street boy who was busy retrieving the pieces of the belt that had initiated the entire fiasco. The dingy boy stood up non-too-hurriedly and sighed with a forlorn expression haunting his face as he tossed the irreparable belt to the side of his stingy merchandise. Perhaps Large-man was not the only person with masked qualities.

"Thanks, mister. I think I owe you my life. I hate street thugs. Let me repay you. Is there anything you need? I can give it to you for no gald at all. I promise that I don't sell broken things too."

Richter's brow arched at the extent to which the street boy was gracious. Richter may have saved the young boy from a beating that could have possibly been fatal, but the boy did not owe Richter anything.

"That won't be necessary."

Richter lingered a moment longer as the boy's eyes flitted back and forth across his wares.

"Are you sure there's absolutely nothing that you want? I know I don't have much, but if there's anything at all, just tell me!"

Richter shook his head with a sense of finality that the street boy managed to pick up on. In a way, he seemed more relieved than disappointed. He nodded in response before Richter turned to leave the area. He would most definitely not be remaining within Sybak for much longer. Street thugs were easy to frighten; they believed anything. However, the foreboding sense of higher dangers was sprinkled in the Sybak atmosphere, and Richter knew full and well that if he could not kill a street thug he would not be capable of harming anything of a higher evolution. He considered himself fortunate that Large-man did not notice the tremor in Richter's hand or the flash of untruth that passed over his eyes when he raised blade to throat. But such good fortune only went so far, and Richter needed to remove himself from areas of risk. He walked away from the street boy's vending corner and across the edge of the square back to the Sybak gates. He would enjoy yet another night beneath the stars, and unlike moments ago, he was being truthful when he considered such a night to be enjoyable.

"Excuse me."

He had made it as far as the path to the gates. He was a mere short walk away from being exposed to the outside world that so many choose to neglect, but he was stopped short. It could have been anybody being asked to halt for a moment. It could have been the frantic woman with the ripped dress or the young adult with his nose buried in a book so deep that it was amazing he did not bump into the people that he did not see. But, Richter knew it was neither of those people. It was a strange occurrence that Richter could not begin to explain, but somehow, someway, a person knew when he or she was being addressed. It was an inkling in the back of the head that sent a message down to the feet and told them, stop! You're being spoken to and you need to listen! Richter's booted feet received that message. He stopped mid-step and stared at the visible gates down the pathway. He was so close. So close.

"Sir, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Richter could have said no. He could have shook his head in a definite refusal and finished his trek out of the confinements of the town. But he did not. He turned around to view the person that had spoken to him. Relatively short, white-haired, and dressed well for a resident of Sybak, the man looking up at Richter had a twinkle of authority in his steel blue eyes that screamed the idea that this man rarely did not get what he wanted.

"My name is Dr. Broan. I am the director of the Sybak Research Academy, and I wanted to have a few words with you, if that would be quite alright. I have never seen your face in the Sybak streets before."

Broan's welcoming grin had the opposite effect on Richter, but he humored the man by not turning and walking away. He had a gut feeling that such an action would be futile anyway. Broan looked ready to chase Richter all the way to the gates, and maybe even beyond.

"Do you have a name, sir?"

"Richter."

Broan's head bobbed forward in some sort of twisted delight. It fit the scene of a father prying answers from a trouble-maker son rather than a scientist speaking to complete stranger.

"Well Mr. Richter, I'm sure I've perplexed you enough as it is. I will avoid small talk and cut to the chase. The Sybak Research Academy is a prestigious facility that houses some of the most ingenious researchers in Tethe'alla. However, a building filled with powerful minds has its disadvantages. To be frank, we lack the degree of strength and protection necessary for our scientists to feel that their data and discoveries are secure. I could not help but notice your confrontation with the merchant boy. You handled the situation with clear skill and authority, and that is something that is difficult to find in a sleepy town such as Sybak."

Broan began to step forward as he spoke, and when he noticed that Richter was not about to return the exchange of communication, he continued to explain his desire.

"Bringing a sword into Sybak without the uniform of a guard holds a multitude of risks. Not all residents fear the blade. However, when the proper strength to back up the blade is presented, people begin to understand. The Research Academy needs your strength, Mr. Richter. My scientists are growing more and more concerned with each passing day that their valuable work will be lost or destroyed. I cannot, and will not, stand for such a thing to occur so long as I can have a hand in preventing it. However, I myself am no master with the blade or any weapon for that matter. I am also a very busy man, but you, Mr. Richter, you could be the feeling of safety that the academy needs. I come to you asking for a small favor; yes, I say small. It may appear like a large inquiry, but that is only the outside packaging. Inside is the small task that I humbly ask of you, and that is to join my academy as its personal guardsman."

"No."

Richter needed no further explanation. He had made his decision halfway through Broan's words, and that decision was concrete in Richter's mind. Broan had no idea exactly what he was asking. The man wanted a sturdy bodyguard to wander about his academy in order to protect information that was in little to no danger in the first place. What Broan wanted was not what Richter was. It was all a misunderstanding, and it was not one that Richter was going to allow to ruin lives, whether it be his own or those of the people inside the academy. Broan, however, was not convinced. He barley showed signs of surprise at Richter's abrupt and firm response. He seemed to anticipate it, actually, because directly after Richter spoke Broan picked right back up with his persuasive tactics.

"You will be housed in the facility with all the amenities of the building. There are many people within the facility that will be more than pleasant and complimentary. You will also be granted access to all areas of the building. I am sure that research and scientific information is not appealing to one such as yourself, but there are worlds of data and discoveries that children dream of and adults consider to be impossible inside of the Research Academy. Mr. Richter, I assure you, you would not regret joining our scientific family."

"The only thing that I regret is entering this town. You do not know what you are asking of me. I am not who you are seeking, I assure you. Your discoveries would be safer under the protection of another, but not me."

Richter turned, and not surprisingly, Broan did as well. He nearly dived forward to intercept Richter's path, but his outer appearance did not show signs of desperate pleading. Yet.

"You are too hard on yourself! I could see the skill that you attain when you protected that filthy street boy. Your strength is apparent in your eyes. It shows just in the way that you walk and hold yourself. Mr. Richter, do not let your power go to waste on petty street squabbles and weakling monsters. Come and put your threatening strength to good use in the corridors of the Sybak Research Academy! You will be appreciated immensely."

The director was wasting his breath with his efforts. He was trying to convince a cat to go to the ocean. As if Richter's mind was not plagued enough with memories that he wished to banish from his head, the last thing that he needed was the burden of precious information solely under his protection. He could hardly protect himself when the situation arose. What was he to do if, despite all odds, a threat loomed up above the academy and all of its occupants? Hundreds of pairs of eyes would turn to him for his "strength," and the surprise that they would instead receive would not be pleasant for anybody. Richter was steadfast with his decision. Adopting a glare into his eyes, he made to step around Broan, but he was once again blocked from progressing forward. Broan stepped in sync with Richter, and this time he began to show just how desperate he was by raising his hands as if to calm the situation.

"I understand the need to travel. Many younger fellows are bitten by the same bug and contract the same disease, but I assure you that disease is only temporary. Soon your adventuring spirit will begin to fade, and you will be left with nothing to claim as your own except a worn out sack of clothing and a head full of long-past memories. What does the land outside of those gates offer you that I have not placed at your feet?"

Richter stood for a moment, still as the trunk of an aged tree, until his answer rose up to finalize the discussion.

"Inner peace."

Properly effected, Richter was able to step around Broan without him retaliating. Richter would not endanger others by agreeing to be something that he simply was not. He would not listen to Broan and his seedy comments, and he would not look over his shoulder to clarify that Broan was indeed handed the response that would send him back to where he came from. It was a ludicrous offer, and it was one that Richter wished to throw out of his head forever. He could cope with the fact that he turned down an opportunity to further his own personal library of knowledge. That is the grandest fact about knowledge; it is available no matter where you are, and he had a much higher chance of grappling some of that knowledge through experience. And just maybe some of that experience would aid him in resolving all the issues that tormented him relentlessly on the inside. Richter approached the wide-open Sybak gates relatively unscathed and only mildly annoyed, and with half of his body over the invisible perimeter line, Richter breathed in a deep mouthful of clean air that replaced the musty air from Sybak.

"Wait!"

And he quickly exhaled that air as he was lassoed right back in.

"Mr. Richter, please! You must perceive that I am not a man apt to beg, but the safety of my scientists is too important for me to brush aside. I offer you my dignity and my heart's promise that you would not regret accepting my gracious offer. Who is to say that you cannot find inner peace here in Sybak? It has all the potential of anywhere else in this world!"

Both Richter and Broan paused, but not for the same reason. Richter was teetering on the line of unleashing some of his anger upon the director while Broan smoldered in his contempt for his own actions. Clearly, Broan was being truthful when he admitted to his immunization to pleading, but such a shallow direness did not influence Richter like it would others. However, there was something else dancing about Broan's behavior. It was difficult to define, but as Richter turned slightly to guide his gaze at the man once more, he could quite nearly feel the shift in Broan's outlook.

"The Research Academy is home to many half-elves, Mr. Richter. They find refuge there. They are given tasks of worldly importance and thrive off of their needs to discover new things and solve old mysteries. Such a haven for half-elves is only dreamed of in some places, but in Sybak, it is real."

Broan's tone shifted much like his attitude when he spoke. He lost all traces of begging and regained the smooth, partially sly composure that he had originally approached Richter with.

Half-elves. How he failed to notice that Broan was a half-elf was beyond Richter at the moment. It could have been that many of the people in Sybak were half-elves, but that was nothing extraordinarily new. There were half-elves in the world. They were merely discriminated against and refused the opportunities instead offered to humans. Now that the topic had been brought up, however, Richter could feel the familiar flow of mana circulating throughout Broan. It was not physically strong, but there was a thick thread of mental strength that formed the very backbone of Broan's personality. Richter had not been incorrect in assuming that Broan typically got what he wanted. But it was not Broan that was the center of Richter's thoughts. Images from moments long gone flashed before Richter's mind's eye. He heard things and saw scenes that most half-elves were accustomed to. They were accustomed, but they never were pleased. Being harshly discriminated against because of your blood was not something that usually aroused feelings of content. Regardless of where Richter went, there were always those same feelings, and not for him solely. It was rare to see a half-elf sporting a genuinely cheerful expression. But now, after all of this conversation, during which Richter was sure Broan recognized his own half-elven blood, Broan was taking a turn on his method and puncturing through to the most fragile of topic for any person living with mixed blood. Was the man truly desperate beyond recognition, or was there an ulterior motive to recruiting Richter to his facility? The latter was almost as absurd as the idea itself. Nobody knew of Richter in Tethe'alla, and he could say that with as much confidence as was necessary, so the only logical option left was the director's genuine sense of urgency.

That did not change the fact that Richter was not a master of the blade. Broan needed to be told that in as blunt of words as possible for him to understand, evidently, and Richter was not afraid to do so. However, he had to do so in a way that did not make him falsely appear as if he was accepting the offer without complications.

"You seek a man with mastery in defense, and I am not that person. What you witnessed was nothing but a show of courage. My skills with the blade are probably closer to your own than to the man that you aspire to have for your guardsman."

Richter's tone took on a layer of firm straight forwardness that was necessary in order to successfully convey his message. If Broan recognized that message, he had a poor showing of it. His features lightened considerably with both anticipation and earnest.

"Mr. Richter, I am willing to accept anybody that is willing to try. Your presence alone will be more than we currently have, and for that my scientists will be grateful! What's that stupid boy always saying . . . uh, 'courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality.' One of my scientists spouts out that saying every now and then, but I believe it truly applies to this situation. Your courage will help us to feel secure."

Richter's arms crossed. He was getting through to Broan, but Richter feared the level of enthusiasm that Broan was utilizing. It was the type of excitement that sprung up from reflex rather than motive. It was raw and true, and sometimes happiness had the ability to cloud normal judgment.

"You fully understand that what I offer in regards to security is not what you originally intended to recruit? This is a vital exchange of coherency that must take place before I can agree to any terms."

Broan nodded a tad too vigorously.

"Yes, Mr. Richter. I am accepting that which you offer regardless of the difference. I and my researchers will be equally as appreciative. Thank you, Mr. Richter!"

Something comparable to that of a grunt emitted from Richter's closed throat. Somehow he doubted that he would be receiving much visible appreciation, but that was nothing foreign. He had endured that type of reception for far longer than one would initially expect, and he could endure it for however much longer was required. The question was, could he endure what he just got himself into?

After the official agreement and a few compromises, Richter had followed Broan through the streets of Sybak toward the Research Academy on the far side. It was the second of the two large buildings, and it was larger than the library, but any splendor was wasted on Richter. He was able to take small solace in the fact that he had managed to negotiate a somewhat different position from Broan. Instead of guardsman, Richter gained rights as a protective researcher. He would protect the scientists and their stores of data, but he would also be granted the privilege to conduct research and experiments of his own. Such a request had actually shocked Broan. He refused to allow Richter such a privilege at first -- Sybak scientists were highly regarded in the scientific community -- but he relented when Richter had turned to leave. Newfound opportunities in hand, Richter found himself in the foyer of the academy while Broan rambled about locations of this lab and that library. It was merely jumble to Richter. He would find what he needed on his own, and he was much more eager to map out the building on his own accord than stand and listen to Broan's voice. Admittedly, he was already growing tired of hearing the man speak. Hopefully he would be able to avoid future contact when at all possible. Unfortunately, it was a slim possibility. But, the promise of research of his own kept Richter's spirits relatively high. He trusted personal experience as an efficient method of gaining knowledge, and by using that train of thought, Richter was able to convince himself that this was a personal experience. Just like studying plant life in the Gaoracchia Forest, enrolling in a research academy would provide Richter with opportunities that he had yet to experience first-hand. As long as he could maintain that concept, Richter was able to bypass the fact that he was expected to be more of a guardsman than a researcher.

Finally, Broan stopped talking and permitted Richter the freedom of the building. It was a contradicting statement for Richter was only free within the confinements of a larger cage, but boundaries were not necessarily a detrimental thing. Plus, Richter had the power to revoke his attendance and leave whenever he should choose. Whether or not Broan recognized that was unknown, but if the time was to come, the last thing that would be on Richter's mind was Broan.

There were many closed doorways that branched off of the center room. Richter did listen to one particular room that Broan had mentioned, but he was not interested in visiting his sleeping chamber quite yet. There were more important things to examine first-hand. Choosing the door to his left, Richter passed through and wondered at the stretch of hallway that met his gaze.

The entire facility was compiled of corridors and passages that led through different specialties of research. Some wings of the building were dedicated to mana research while others concentrated on the environment and the natural way of life. Richter mentally noted which wings would garner his future attention, but he did not linger too long in any single chamber. He wanted to see all that he could, and the building was much larger than originally expected. It looked big from the outside, but the inside coiled here and there in every which way so as to utilize every ounce of space that was available. Richter had not even set foot on the basement steps yet, but that was his current destination. He had only noticed a single staircase that led down into what he presumed to be the underground basement of the academy. Broan probably explained the uses of the basement at some point, but Richter could not recall what he said even if he wanted to. Instead of racking his brain, Richter opened it wide and descended the staircase. The walls around the steps altered from well-kept to dank and gave off the impression of a dungeon instead of a research lab. The door at the base of the steps looked wooden and rickety, but it somehow did not creak when Richter pushed it inward.

Despite its dungeon-like motif, the basement of the academy was not dissatisfactory. It was what Richter expected it to be, for the most part. The brick foundation of the facility was exposed as the walls and the magitechnology torches only served to create spheres of light for the researchers that had to work below the ground. Shelves and cases of tomes protruded from the earthy walls in some places, but for the most part the books and sheaves of papers were scattered about the room on tables and on the dusty floor. When Richter thought of a suitable workspace, his mind's image was closer to what he currently viewed instead of the white-washed, pristine chambers upstairs.

There was only one aforementioned sphere of light currently in the basement laboratory. The bright illumination slightly hid the person that sat enveloped in it, and Richter figured out why once he was able to get a better look. The person -- a boy not even to young adulthood -- sat in the light with his sheer blonde hair taunting him by playing with his line of sight. The combination of his hair and white lab coat camouflaged him flawlessly in his cocoon of solitary study. Richter was standing to the side of the boy, partially out of his line of vision, but still close enough for both to be aware of one another's presence. But even though the boy with the white-blonde hair did not even glance up at Richter despite where he stood or how loud his boots were on the stone floor, there was something else that caught Richter's attention.

His notes were everywhere.

Crumpled pieces of paper and notes with scrambled lettering were strewn all around the boy's sitting figure. Some of the words were nearly illegible. The notes that he could read were extensive with a hint of a rambling quality, but to a dedicated researcher, there was no such thing as rambling when it came to discussing knowledge. There was only description, and this young boy seemed to be in love with it.

Richter approached the boy to a closer extent. He was standing just off to the side of him when he first chose to speak.

"Organization is a helpful tool."

Admittedly, Richter could not bear to be amongst such clutter. He took hold of organization and utilized all of its best advantages. Where as the boy's notes were thrown helter-skelter about the basement, Richter had a pack carefully lined with neat papers that were numbered and placed in a specific order. There was an urge in the back of Richter's mind to tidy the mess that littered the boy's workspace, but he refrained well enough. He did not even know him, and he might not ever get to know him if the boy's reaction was anything to go by. He did not flinch in the least when Richter spoke. He must have known that they were the only two in the basement, but after Richter talked, the boy continued on with a writing utensil in one hand and the other flipping through pages of a book set flat on the table before him. The smallest of murmurs tumbled from his mouth, but they were inaudible to Richter's ears. He could confidently guess as to what the mutters were saying though. Richter moved more behind the boy instead of to his side. He knew it was hypocritical of him to do such a thing. He loathed it when others read over his shoulder, but something was obviously keeping hold of the boy's attention, and Richter's curiosity had been roused. He peered down at the book and at the boy's scribbled notes.

It was quite nearly astonishing. There was nothing groundbreaking in regards to discoveries, but the method to which the boy analyzed certain elements and the hypotheses that his mind concocted were so unique with a seed of brilliance that had yet to be fully appreciated. The notes beneath the boy's hand picked apart even the most minute of details, and that was something that Richter related to. Multiple times he had been told that his research was poor due to the irrelevant comments that he consistently made in the margins of his notes, but this boy committed the same act. There were arrows hastily drawn to link two topics together while other segments were scratched out entirely. Whoever this boy was -- whatever he was doing -- ignited a spark within Richter that urged him persistently onward.

"This statement is incorrect."

By pointing his finger onto the boy's note page and criticizing his thoughts Richter evidently woke the person beneath the lab coat and warranted a slice of attention.

"What? What do you mean?"

"It has been proven that mana can be outwardly regulated and utilized to alter physical appearance. There are many requirements, including strength in mana, but the theory has been proven to be true."

The boy's eyes -- startling green somewhat similar to Richter's own -- narrowed in something that could be called a combination of confusion and irritation. He glanced from the book to his notes to Richter before finally turning his body entirely around in his chair in order to get a better view of the person who interrupted his thinking.

"How do you know? Can you show me?"

His voice had an air of earnest willingness to learn, but it also still retained a partially adolescent pitch that instantly set him apart from the older generation.

"Yes, I still have the notes, and they should be easy to find. My notes are categorized."

At the reference of organization the young boy's eyes fell slightly and he looked across at the paper-strewn basement floor. Looking back up to Richter, the boy cracked a smirk-like grin and rubbed the back of his head with his hand.

"Hah, what can I say. I guess I get a little carried away sometimes. I swear I know exactly where everything is though! Like, see that sheet over there? Both sides have possible hypotheses for how plants provide themselves with nutrients. And that sheet over there is filled with weather predictions for the next few days, and that pile over there was a report on my recent research regarding the possibility of mana being transferable from one being to another. See, I know exactly where everything is."

Richter's eyes followed as the boy gestured to random selections of notes. He still could not comprehend how anybody could work in such a style, but thankfully it was not his problem. He watched as the boy returned his gaze and locked his eyes on the pack that Richter was carrying. It might have been his imagination, but Richter was almost certain that the boy actually trembled for a moment with the anticipation of getting his eyes on the notes that Richter mentioned.

"So, uh, can I see your research? I haven't had much time to explore that theory, but since you said it's wrong, I suddenly have all the time in the world."

Richter could hardly refrain from his own grin. It was a small curvature of his mouth, perhaps not even noticeable, but the humor that prickled beneath Richter's skin was enough of evidence for him to realize that the boy was interesting to say the least. Richter strode around the table and scooted a chair up to the other side so he could sit face-to-face with the young scientist (who followed him with a hunger in his eyes that burned brighter than the light surrounding them). Richter gently placed his pack upon the table top and slid out a sheaf of notes. It was an odd situation, but for an indefinable reason, Richter did not feel awkward as he readied himself to discuss a scientific theory with somebody that was virtually a stranger to him. He gathered the same sort of feeling was bubbling up in the boy as well. Or maybe he was simply that intent on reading the notes that Richter offered. Either way, Richter was experiencing the feeling of hope for the first time in many years.

"Wait!"

The boy's hands shot up quickly as he halted Richter in the middle of undoing the sheaf.

"You gotta tell me your name first! I know it's weird, but I always feel better knowing the name of the scientist that I'm gathering information from. I think it makes the information more credible in my mind. Or something, I don't really know, but I promise that it just makes me feel better. Is it too awkward? I understand if it is, but I hope you understand, because I really, really want to see those notes."

Hands folded on top of the partially unwound sheaf, Richter eyed the boy. This boy was different. He had some variation of spunk that was so unlike anything that Richter had ever witnessed before. He had seen dedicated personalities before, but they were always devoted to trivial matters such as combat or politics. This boy had a fire burning quietly somewhere deep within him, and that fire could only be fed by knowledge. Richter respected that. He was not convinced that he liked it quite yet. He had only spent five minutes with this boy, but that five minutes was spent willingly.

"Richter Abend."

His response delighted the boy who lowered his hands and let another grin spread across his features. The fire within him was burning brighter.

"That's great! I'm Aster; Aster Cadder. Do you really have research about altering mana, or are you just trying to mess with me? It won't be the first time, but I have to admit that it gets really old after awhile."

Richter only shook his head slightly and slid the notes across the table for Aster to examine. He hungrily reached for the papers and finished unwinding the sheaf in half the time that it took for Richter to start the procedure. Before long Aster was flipping through the pages at a speed that impressed Richter to a certain degree. He had seen reading speed equal to that of Aster's before, but only once, and Richter would not openly admit that that person was himself. If at all possible, Aster's eyes grew in size with each new page that he scanned until he reached roughly the midway point. It was a large document with many different facets of scientific theory, but Aster managed to cover a generous portion of it at an alarming speed. Richter did not doubt that he retained most if not all of what he read either.

"I've never seen anything like this on this subject! It's like it's from another world entirely. You've gotta stay and discuss with me. Please? I don't think anybody else would even believe that this is real if I showed it to them, but it's all so fascinating, and it all makes sense!"

Aster's form leaned forward in anticipation. He partially smashed some of the notes beneath his bent body, and while it irked Richter, he swept the feeling aside. So long as he did not end up throwing his notes haphazardly around the room, Richter would be just fine.

"Why are you so interested?"

He was not asking in an accusatory or skeptical tone. Richter was merely curious, and rightfully so. Here was a boy with a passion for knowledge and an understanding of information that was actually asking Richter for his insight. It was a situation worth delving deeper into.

"Because it's fascinating! It probably would have taken me years to finally get around to analyzing this stuff, but you come along and you hand me practically every answer without repercussion! I should probably be wondering if my life is threatened, but you know, I just don't think you seem like the kind of guy that goes around killing people, so I think I'm okay. Will you stay and discuss? You can leave whenever you want to, but if you really want to talk with me, I promise to try and not be boring. I'll even clean up my notes if it bothers you that bad!"

Richter had to lean back in his chair. In one way, the entire ordeal was surreal. Tucked away in a drab little basement in an even more drab little town was somebody with the fieriest thirst for knowledge that Richter had ever seen. The handle that Aster grasped and used to understand science had to be much more advanced than most people his age. He read Richter's notes and understood them. That was a feat in and of itself, but the fact that Aster was trying with all of his might to persuade Richter to stay was even beyond that of a feat. In another way, the situation was enthralling. Aster was a scientist that prioritized knowledge over everything else, even his own safety, and Richter actually harbored respect for him. And in yet another way, the event currently happening was entirely, one hundred percent, without a doubt impossible. It was not like Richter had not noticed upon first entering. It was among one of the first notions that popped into his head, but he disregarded it then and he continued to do so now. It did not matter that Aster was a human. It did not matter that Richter was a half-elf. They were both beings of life striving to understand just how their lives and everything around them worked. Richter was not about to shun a person that shared that intense belief with him just because of a difference in their blood.

Richter straightened his composure and reached a hand into his pack while Aster watched with fixed and eager eyes. Withdrawing a pair of lenses held in place by two wire earpieces, Richter fitted the optical device over his eyes and offered Aster yet another rare yet genuine grin of amusement.

"Alright, kid. Let's discuss."