It is a blissful night out here on the sea. The brother moons were full, casting their twin glow onto the waters below. It was bright enough for one to see any cargo on the ship. Why the Ostanden Empire deemed it necessary to return their weapons from overseas, none could say. Well, that is not entirely true. One man this fine evening could very well explain the reasoning for the empire to return such valuable weaponry. He is leaning against the bulwark, a slight breeze ruffling his blond hair. The sound of water lapping up the hull fills the night. The water reaches up trying to grab anyone unfortunate to fall over, consuming them to insurmountable depths.
"Such a beautiful night." It may be the most enjoyable thing for him. These sights that come from his missions as a mage for WISE. Westwind alliance Illusionary enchanters and Spellcrafters Empire division, or simply shortened to WISE. Traveling around the empire has perks, and these sights are some of the many. Not to say that all is well within the empire, for the empire also has many problems. He has seen the glaring issues in which the empire rules over the acquired countries within its borders. They have established a caste system, those born on the original Ostanden soil are granted full citizenship. While those born in one of the many provinces are second class citizens, and that is if your bloodline can be traced back to Ostanden. Everyone else? Well, at least the boot they are forced to lick is shined to perfection. A flapping of wings stirs him from his musing. He tilts his head back, and can make out the silhouette of some avian creature. It descends, heading straight for him. Upon further scrutiny, he can see that this bird is a strix.
An operations strix.
Well, this was to be expected. They never seem to have a problem giving him back to back missions. The creature spreads its wings, slowing its descent. With a few great flaps of its incredibly long wings, the bird lands on the bulwark next to him. He reaches over and pets the bird, who snuggles into the hand. After a moment, he removes his hand from their head, and reaches toward the bag strapped to the large birds back. He unbuckles the leather strap keeping the contents secure, and reaches his hand into the satchel.
Then, he focuses on his spark.
A chill surrounds him, and he can feel the pinprick of needles in his diaphragm. The sensation travels from his core, to his hand in the bag. The feeling soon escapes his palm, and air escapes the bag like a sigh of relief. Soon a faint glow emanates from the bag, and he looks over his shoulder to make sure he is still alone on deck. As quick as the golden light appears, it is gone, and in his palm is the feeling of parchment. He retrieves the letter, and buckles the satchel. With his free hand, he reaches into his cloak and pulls out some peanuts. He feeds a few to the messenger, and pets them a few more times. After the bird has rested for a few moments, they flap their great wings and return to the night sky. He turns away, heading towards some stairs that lead below deck.
The faint sound of men laughing attracts his attention as he begins his short trek down the wooden steps. The stairs creak with each footfall, letting those below know someone is approaching. A few heads turn from whatever was occupying them before. For some it was cards, for others it was some form of alcohol. The life of a sailor was a simple one, traveling the world from port to port never truly settling in one place. The similarities between a mage and a sailor were very apparent. Which is probably why they seem to get along so well.
"Ay! Robert! We all thought you fell overboard!" A dark skinned man who clearly had too much to drink. As even from the foot of the stairs his breath hit him like a charging bull. Another alias he will be getting rid of soon, and donning another once he reads the letter. He stepped into the warm room as many of the crew simply laughed at what their inebriated friend said. He chuckles as he sauntered over to an open seat, or in this case, a barrel.
"Nice of you all to jump to my rescue." The sailors simply seem to laugh harder at his sarcasm. He shares a laugh with them, it is not everyday he has good company. "So, what's on the menu tonight?"
"Leftovers from last night." A portly man said from the end of the cramped but cozy room. A long unkempt beard lay on his protruding gut. "Since some of our food is missin'."
"That so?" Could be some rodents. This crew does not seem to have a cat to help take care of that issue. "Was it rats?"
"No." Everyone in the room stops to listen once they hear the tone of his voice. Never have they heard the cook sound so angry. "Unless this rat can open sacks of fruit."
Ah, so a stowaway? He can not say he is surprised to hear it. Many criminals attempt to run by simply abandoning their home country. Assuming that they are a criminal anyway. It could be likely that they were fed the propaganda from the imperials. That the empire is home to many distinct peoples and cultures. It would not be the first time he had to listen to the delusions of hopeful immigrants.
"You wan us to look for 'em?" A thin man said from over his hand of cards.
"Nah." The portly man shook his head. "We'll be in port solstice tomorrow morn."
"We lettin 'em go?" The dark skinned man asked from beside him.
"I didn't say that!" The portly man said while grinning darkly. "We'll catch the bastard when they try to get off!"
"Great idea cap'n!" Someone yelled, then they all started laughing. Captain and cook all in one, as if anyone had a reason to question the man. Robert sighed, growing tired of listening to them. It would be one thing if they said something remotely intelligent, for instance to find the stowaway now. Waiting to dock in port? That is a horrible idea. There are so many people moving about on the dock, and the crew will be loading and unloading cargo. The stowaway has so many opportunities to sneak away unseen. If they were to catch this surprise visitor, the best time is now. Limited space to hide, and nowhere to run. If they spread out, they could probably locate the intruder in an hour, and that is being generous. Well, it is not his ship or his food getting pilfered. Might as well let the captain handle it his way.
"In that case." He said while standing from his seat, or barrel. "I'm going to get some sleep."
"Ay!" The portly captain yelled. "Be careful! Don't need you getting attacked!"
By the stowaway? Their worry is appreciated, but unnecessary. They have been at sea for a week now, so if this stowaway wished them harm they most likely would have done so by now. So, throwing a wave over his shoulder, he walks past everyone heading to his cabin. It is more accurately described as a storage room that he managed to rent by paying some extra coin for. But, those are just semantics, for right now it has a bunk calling his name. The door creaks on old hinges letting everyone know they need to be greased. Some light filters in from behind him allowing him to make out his quarters for this past week. A bunk against the wall,and a table against the opposite wall. Some barrels and sacks of other foodstuff are against the wall opposite himself. He has stayed in better, and most certainly in far worse. He reaches inside for his spark, pinpricks shoot through him once again. They travel to his finger tips and with a snap of his fingers a small flame is hovering above his fingers. He waves his flame covered hand towards the lantern on the table. The small flame shoots from his hand, flying towards the lantern. The fire loops and spins in the air performing a beautiful waltz towards the lantern. As soon as the flame makes contact with the oil inside, the lantern is lit and the flame sits comfortably flickering ever so softly. Light illuminates the room before him, and the shadows dance across the walls of the cabin. He closes the door behind him, then walks over to sit at a small crate before the table. He reaches inside his cloak and pulls out the folded parchment from the strix earlier. He unfolds the letter and holds it in the light in order to read.
Hello, Twilight.
Or should I say good evening? Good work on completing your previous assignment. You have done an incredible service to maintaining stability in the Westwind Alliance. It may seem imprudent, but we must send you into the heart of the Ostanden Empire for your next assignment. Your next target is Emperor Desmond…
He brings his hand up to press into his furrowed brow. A sigh escapes him while he attempts to work his way through the absurdity of his newest target. Emperor Desmond? The man has guards posted everywhere in Berlint. Not to mention the three secrets, a group that is shadowed with mystery in the Empire. The only thing WISE and himself were able to gather from this group is their agenda. Expand the empire to unite the people of the world under one banner.
More like under the heel of their boot.
…who has never made a public appearance since his succession twenty years ago. He is a threat to this fragile peace in the world, so it is your duty to get close to him and scrutinize his intentions to expand his borders. Spare no detail in all future reports regarding any development that could inflame the people to war. Now, your first step in order to achieve these goals is to get married and have a child…
He sets the paper down on the table and takes a moment to contemplate the absurdity of this new task yet again. First it is the Emperor himself, now he needs to obtain a family? It is going to be difficult enough just to get close to the emperor, and now he will need to worry about civilians? Maybe they will be giving him support once he arrives. He resists the urge to sigh again, and simply resumes reading the paper on the table.
…The Emperor is the most protected individual in the world, so you will find getting close to him extremely difficult. Thankfully, there is an exclusive ceremony where Desmond invites notable students to award them and their families. It is at the prestigious Eden School of Sorcery where the Emperor will make a public appearance. This awards ceremony also serves for other powerful players in the empire to talk politics and trade. It is imperative that you have your child enrolled and receive accolades to increase the likelihood of an encounter. Furthermore, the deadline for enrollment is the Eve of Sorrows…
Eve of Sorrows? That takes place at the end of the month. Which is in…roughly seven days. So they want him to get married, have a child, and enroll them into the most prestigious school of magic in the world? All in less than a week. How could he forget that the child must have a spark in order to be considered, which is exceedingly rare to begin with.
…You mages are heroes of the night. Bards will not sing of your countless deeds, nor will kings reward your selfless achievements. But even so, never forget that the people of Westwind, nay, the world rely on your selfless actions.
He tosses the letter into the lantern allowing the flames to remove all traces of parchment. He sits there for some time, long enough where the raucous laughter through the door slowly settles into quiet. He stands from the table and stretches his back, then a chill runs through him.
He is not alone in this room.
He reaches for his spark and can soon feel the sharp pain in his gut. He endures the discomfort of inflaming his spark, and turns to scan the room. The bunk is empty aside from a single blanket and pillow. No one near or around the doorway. Adjacent to the bunk are some sacks and barrels filled with foodstuff. He steps carefully across the floorboards, meticulously stepping on the ones he learned would not creak in his brief stay here. Once he is in reach of the lone barrel among the other sacks of food, he wills his spark up into his ears. He winces at the sharp pain assaulting his eardrums. Through pain comes power however, and through the lingering pain his hearing improves immensely. The snores of the crew he can make out through several walls separating them. The sounds of the captain having a nightly tryst with one of his crew mates. The sea raging all around the ship, beating against the hull, sounding like thunder during a storm. He then focused his hearing on the barrel before him.
It is deathly quiet inside.
In fact, he could not hear any sound at all from this part of the room. He releases his spark, letting the stabbing sensation drift away from his now tender ears. Is he losing his touch? Years of espionage ingrained a sixth sense inside him. The instinct he developed over years of work, the feeling of when someone is near. It has saved his life multiple times in his line of work, and it has never led him astray.
Not once.
So, could there be some hidden compartment he missed while surveying the room? Unlikely, he is extremely thorough with inspecting his places of rest. After all, when one is asleep is the best time to perform an assassination. Trusting in his own capabilities, he knows there are no secrets in the structure of this room. Which means the stowaway, assuming this is the culprit, is somewhere else in this small room. This barrel is the only place an average sized human would be able to hide. Among a myriad of other races in this world. With this in mind, he turns away from the foodstuff and gazes upon the rest of the room. The lantern illuminates the room with a hue that reminds him of long winters around the hearth. Nothing under his table against the wall. Perhaps the crate he was sitting upon a moment ago? No, all the nails are still intact, sealing it shut. Someone with magic could potentially hide inside and reseal the crate, but it seems unlikely. His gaze scans across the room landing on his empty bunk. His trunk takes up all the space below the bunk…
His lock is missing from the latch on said trunk.
The lock was lying next to the trunk, somehow this intruder knew the combination. He has not opened it at all today, and he always checks to ensure it is locked once he leaves the room. Inside that trunk is all manners of things from WISE. Forgery kits, thieves tools, and magical amplifiers to help with his missions. Not to mention all his clothes and weaponry. Whoever is in there, they may be a mage from the empire. Has he been compromised? Is it a member of the three secrets? Surely assassination is within their repertoire.
He was careless.
This stowaway was lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. They will be arriving in Berlint tomorrow morning. This assassin kills him while he sleeps, then escapes once they dock in port. She should have realized it sooner. He also notes that this assassin has kept their presence hidden for the better part of a week now. For him to not even detect them shows how skilled this individual must be. Surely they have a spark as well. Not even with his enhanced hearing could he detect this person. Were they somehow clouding his senses? An extremely skilled mage then.
But he is better.
He feels a smirk come upon his face. He stalks to the trunk like a lion getting ready to leap on a gazelle. The trunk is big enough to house a person under normal circumstances. But the gap between the bunk and the trunk is too narrow for anyone with a similar build to himself. So his suspicions are confirmed then, it is a smaller creature inside. A gnome or a goblin for sure then, they are the only smaller races who have been known to be born with sparks. He squats down next to his trunk, and carefully places his hands on either side of it. He reaches inside for his spark once again. A wave of dizziness almost makes him fall back. Clearly he has been using his powers far too much today. He steadies himself and tightens his grip on the side handles of the trunk. Then he takes a deep breath feeling his magic course through the muscles of his arms. The pinpricks feel like razor blades slicing across his arms from the stress of using his spark throughout the day. With inhuman speed, he slides the trunk out from under his bunk. Deft hands throw the trunk open revealing the contents to the soft glow of lantern light.
Inside was a little human girl.
He merely stops and gawks at this little intruder. Emerald orbs stare back at him, then quickly fill with tears. The dam soon collapses and alarm bells accompany the emergency. Her loud wails reverberate through the small room and shock him from his stupor. He blinks and shakes his head to clear his mind. This is the infamous stowaway? This little girl? She managed to hide not only from the crew of the ship, but himself no less. Him, who is a skilled mage of WISE. Considered the best in the field, with absolute mastery over his spark. Either he is losing his touch, or this girl is an incredibly talented mage. Is it arrogant of him to assume the latter? The wails slowly cease, and soon little hiccups and sniffs are heard instead.
"It's ok." He says softly, trying to ease her worries. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Y-y-you're not?" stuttering in between hiccups.
"No, I'm not." She sniffs a few times and moves her dirty hands away from her eyes. The last few tears peeter out and she wipes the tears away from her grimy face.
"You're a good guy?" She asked, suspicion dripping from her voice. Well, he spends his life protecting innocent people. He uses his skill to try and ensure no more war can come to fruition. To protect the smiles of children. He would say yes, in her own words, he is a good guy. "Anya thinks you're a good guy."
"Anya?" That must be her name. That is one question answered. Now how did she get here? Where are her parents? Does she have parents? "How did you get here?"
"I hid in a bee-reel when no one was looking." A barrel? With her spark, he supposed it was not entirely impossible for her.
"Why?" His interest in this child grows with every answer she provides. "Where are your parents?"
"They're…" she barely manages to choke out the word before the tears start flowing again. She begins rubbing the back of her hands against her eyes trying to cover her tears. If it was not apparent before, then it certainly is now. This girl is an orphan. An orphan who so happens to also have a spark.
They are exceedingly rare.
As soon as it is discovered that someone has a spark as a child, they are almost certainly going to succeed in life. Whether that be in warfare, politics, or dungeon delving. The nobility are like dragons, while these children with a spark are like shiny trinkets. The nobles kill for more, and will hoard them as a show of vanity. Now, one quite literally fell into his lap. She climbed out of the trunk and hugged his torso. Rubbing her snot and tears all over him. Looking to find some comfort, even in a complete stranger. How long has this girl been alone?
With a shaky hand, he begins to rub her back. Simply letting her use him as a snot rag. Well, now is as good a chance as any to gauge her spark. He takes a deep breath and begins searching for a spark once more. This time though, instead of focusing inside himself, he focuses on the hand rubbing her back. Using a spark is very taxing on the body, and the more it is called upon, the more painful it is. Now the intensity of said cost varies on the application of magic and the mastery of the user. When reaching for another spark however, it is not painful in the least. In fact, it is actually quite comforting and intimate. So, without any fear of hurting Anya, he wills his palm to pull. Similarly to a siphon, he can redirect the magic from Anya into himself. He is not so much as taking the energy of the magic, he is merely letting it flow through him and back into her.
It nearly engulfs him.
Warmth fills his chest and reminds him of a time long forgotten. He can feel her emotions like they were his own. His heart begins to beat faster as her fear grabs it for dear life. Uncertainty clouds his mind as she casts a fog over his thoughts. The warmth continues to grow, and he can almost recall the feeling. It is a sort of fondness he has only ever felt as a child himself.
The love for a parent.
For such a small child, her magic reservoir is astounding. He has never encountered a mage, let alone a child, with such raw power. He slowly releases the siphon he has on her. Her tears ceased sometime in the middle of his analysis of her spark. He can feel her deep breaths from her back. It would seem the little girl had enough and was sleeping soundly in his lap. He chuckles in amusement and runs hands through her pink locks. Unsurprisingly, his hand comes back feeling greasy and gross. When was the last time this girl bathed? Probably weeks ago, if he had to guess. His other hand can feel the roughness of her dress, or what is left of it anyway. It would be more accurate to call them rags around her. Just what has this girl gone through? He sighs and holds her against his chest so he can stand without rousing her. She is light, far too light for a child her age. Assuming this girl is close to five, she should be much heavier.
This girl is malnourished. He can feel how thin she truly is in his grip. Her rags hang loosely around her frame and managed to hide this fact from him. He carefully lays the girl down on his bunk. She snuggles into the pillow releasing small snores into the fabric. If the purple under her eyes are any indication, this girl has not gotten much sleep lately either. She must have been in this room all week. Too afraid to leave and get caught. How did he not notice her until now? Was she cloaking her presence with magic? A cloak is very difficult to perform, and quite taxing on a mage. She seems to have quite a lot of power though. Did someone teach her how to cloak her presence? Or was it perhaps through hardship? Either way, it seems she has a grasp on how to use her spark. Which means he will have very little to teach her before school. After all, he needs a child for his mission, and Anya quite literally fell into his lap. She seems to want a father, and what is another guise for him to embody? Playing the role of a father should be simple enough.
The chime of a bell rouses him from his thoughts. Soon, the sound of feet impacting wood can be heard through the door like the hooves of warhorses on the battlefield. It would seem that they have arrived in Port Solstice. All the ruckus does not seem to affect Anya, for she may as well be dead to the world in her tired state. He removes his cloak and drapes it over her sleeping form hoping to give her some comfort. He may as well see how far off they are from shore. He turns and heads outside the cabin letting Anya get much deserved rest. He makes his way up onto deck and into utter mayhem.
Everyone in the crew seems to be working for once. When they were at sea very little needed to be done. So for most of the trip, he had to deal with drunken sailors. Singing their horrible off key songs, picking fights with each other and just being downright egregious. Some would even try to pick a fight with him of all people. So he treated the sailor with as much respect as he treats imperial guards. He spit in his face and broke his nose. It really was not much, and it could have ended much worse for the man. What really surprised him though, was that after that the man laughed. Then the whole crew welcomed him like he was some long lost brother. Apparently the best way to greet a sailor is to spit on them and embarrass them in front of their peers. Who knew?
"Robert!" The captain yelled down to him from the helm. He needs to come up with a new alias. "Good ta cya up so early!"
"Hard to sleep with all the commotion." Even if he was asleep all this noise would have awoken him anyhow. He steps around the working crew ensuring he stays out of their way. The crew hardly seem to notice him as he makes his way up toward the captain. The portly man beamed a smile his way genuinely happy this morning. Overhearing a little of the tryst that the captain had during the night, well, it is no wonder the man is in such a mood. "How far off are we?"
"Ay say bout an hour out." The captain said while looking out to sea. He followed his gaze, and could barely make out the approaching city. It does not help that it is still fairly dark out. Looking up he could still see most of the stars in the sky and the brother moons. Off to the east he could see the sky begin to change to a soft purple. Soon the sun will be up, ready to wake everyone else with it. The sound of the rigging being worked with fills the air along with the call of seagulls flying above. The crew yells commands at one another while he merely observes this controlled chaos taking place before him.
"So the empire huh?" The captain asked with the bluntness of a smithing hammer. It is not much of a secret where his destination is, hence Port Solstice in the distance. But sailors were a treasure trove of information throughout the world. Perhaps not regarding world politics, but for information on the average man? Only bartenders beat sailors in this particular subject. It seemed innocuous enough, his curiosity anyway, his breath on the other hand?
"Looking to expand." It is better to give breadcrumbs than nothing at all. Hopefully whatever info he gives will sate the curiosity of the man. "Business is growing and I hope to keep it that way."
"Ahhh…" the captain makes a sound of understanding. "So a merchant eh?"
"You can say that." He will still need to find a cover for himself while here in the empire. A merchant seems to be as good as any, and believable enough with the reputation of opportunity here in the empire. Now, what exactly will he be selling? "I distribute ice from Fralise."
"The frostlands eh?" Fralise is the coldest place in the world, and the land itself is warped with magic that keeps everything unnaturally cold. The kingdom is also on the border of the northern most provinces within the empire. "That'll make a shiny coin or two."
"It is a fine commodity." All things in Fralise are affected by the magical freeze there, even the people have been changed over the millennia. Having deathly pale skin, and icy blood running through their veins. The ice there is clear like diamonds and the raw magic inside is worth twice as much. The ice thaws over a period of months instead of minutes. It is a very valuable resource to the people within the empire. It allows them to hoard a great deal of food without worry of it spoiling, and it is something finer establishments use to chill their drinks. "My family hails from the northern provinces."
"Not quite a noble." The captain looks him up and down. A simple leather vest keeps his torso protected. A green cotton shirt is worn under the vest to prevent chafing. Well worn black pants fit firmly on his legs before leading into leather boots. "Not quite a peasant."
"Well, if I came aboard dressed in my finest attire." He said while gesturing down to himself. "You would have charged me double for thinking I'm nobility."
"Double? you think me a swindler?." The captain sent a smirk his way. "it would've been triple."
They both laughed good naturedly at the joke. Laughing because they both knew it was true and he was able to see that. There was something about sailors that he respected that made them enjoyable company.
The honesty.
Living a life full of lies is tiring. He would not change his life at all and he knows the work he performs helps people. All in all his life is very fulfilling, and he should be happy to carry out these missions for the betterment of the world. But is he really happy? Right now laughing and talking to the captain he is. Can he say the same tomorrow? When he is alone planning for ways to encounter the emperor. I suppose he has Anya now, but she is just another tool for him to use and throw away when everything is done.
No attachment.
The life of a mage is very lonesome. Separate from his wizard counterparts, who are awarded and recognized as heroes. Mages cast no shadow, and leave not a trace for the deeds they perform. He accepted that when WISE recruited him. A constant life full of lies and treachery for the sake of world peace. While these sailors live their life moment to moment. Never worrying about what is going on politically and being honest with themselves.
It is a nice change of pace from the life of deception he has led for so long.
He continues to chat with the captain for quite some time. Simple things like where they were sailing to next or the places they have been to before. Apparently they travel up and down the western coast of the empire. Trading various goods and transporting desperate people to places they wish to go. They rarely travel across the balsiera ocean toward the allied lands of Westwind. The embargo has made it exceedingly difficult to sail there. The conversation ends once they reach port and the captain needs to take the necessary procedures in order to dock in Solstice. So he heads back below deck in order to get everything situated with Anya. Hopefully she does not make a fuss over being adopted by him. She seems to be old enough to enter Eden. It is hard to tell with how light her body was in his hands. He could feel how thin she was through her clothes when he held her before.
"I guess the first thing to do is feed her." Fortunately he is a great cook, he has never received any complaints anyhow. Getting her healthy again should be no problem for him. Assuming there are no other underlying conditions. She did not seem sick, but he should still take her to a doctor to be sure. He opens the door to where he spent the last week on this ship and steps inside. He left the lantern on his desk filling the room with an orange glow, allowing him to make out the small lump on his bunk. He can hear soft breaths in the darkness that tell him Anya is still asleep. He quietly steps over and kneels down in front of her sleeping form. He can see a little drool has dribbled down her cheek onto the pillow. He reaches out and begins nudging shoulder. "Anya, wake up."
"Mmmm…" she grumbles in her sleep as he keeps nudging her. Soon she rouses awake and blinks a few times at him. "Papa?"
"Well…" she was clearly still half asleep and was imagining her own father. But now that the topic has been brought up anyhow. "Is that what you want?"
Why was he asking her? She clearly has no one, and she will not last much longer on her own. For her own good, he should simply take her and bring her to an orphanage that can help her. He needs a child though, and one with a spark at that. So, Anya is a miracle that landed in front of him.
Taking advantage of a child though…
Even if this is for the greater good, and his mission as a mage requires him to use a child. It still does not sit right with him. A child who has clearly been through more than enough hardships for her age, and will most likely need to go through more if he leaves her alone. They both get what they need out of this, him a child for his mission, and her an adult to take care of her. Both parties win here.
So why does his stomach twist at the thought of it?
"You'll be my papa?" Her question snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks upon her and can see that her green eyes look up at him filled with hope. Could he really pretend to be a father? Take Anya with him just to discard her like a used tool once everything is over?
"Yes." He truly is a despicable man. Her face brightens into a wide smile. She darts across the bunk and wraps her arms around him, and he can feel the ragged breaths of sobs ricocheting off his chest. Did he already mess up? Is she upset already? "Anya? What's wrong?"
"N-n-nothing!" She manages to choke out in between breaths. She rubs her face into his leather vest getting snot all over him once again. "I'm so happy!"
He laughs and wraps his arms around her. She cries for a little while longer, wiping her woes away on him. Well, so far so good in this new mission of his. Not even twenty-four hours in and he has already secured a child, and with a spark no less. Eden is the most prominent school of magic on the continent and they take initiates of all ages. Even still, feeling how light Anya is through the rags of her clothing, he can tell that she may be unsuitable for school. Maybe it is for the best to take her someplace where she can rest and recuperate from her ordeal.
Maybe it is for the best to give her away, for learning to harness your spark is incredibly dangerous and taxing.
"Papa." She tilts her head back to look into his eyes. He can see her eyes harden in what can only be determination. "I wanna learn magic from you."
"From me?" Sure he is the best mage WISE has, but he will need to keep a low profile. So, he will only allow himself to use simple cantrips like mage grasp. Anything too powerful could blow his cover of being a simple merchant. "Well, there is a great school in Berlint where you can learn."
"I can be like Papa?" Be like him? Well, she will end up learning some more basic spells he knows already. Such as mage grasp or companions. The more advanced spells like flight or disgusting cackles will take years to learn. He doubts Eden will even teach spells such as fright or labyrinth. These spells take years to master and tax the caster heavily. Some even die after casting these spells or from simply attempting them. "I wanna go to school!"
"Well, I suppose it's settled then." He says while lifting Anya from the bunk and holding her to his chest. "I'm your father now."
"Papa!" She smiles at him showing a toothy grin. Twilight ignores the warmth in his chest pretending it is satisfaction at a step towards completion in his mission.
He is a great liar after all.
AN: Hello everyone! Kahli here with another story for the fandom. If you read the notes in my other story, then it should be no surprise that this is the aforementioned fantasy. This story will be following the main story up to the Eden entrance. School will be much different here than in the anime/manga, and the story and characters will reflect that. The next chapter in this story will be introducing Yor, and how she is in this fantasy. Sorry that it took so long to release this chapter. In the notes of Red Herring, I mentioned that the chapter should've been released last week at the latest. Well, one of my best friends from out of state decided to visit for a week on short notice. So I couldn't write as frequently during his stay. Thank you for understanding, and I will be working on chapter 3 of Red Herring this week with an update hopefully next week. I will be cycling between these two stories for now. Thank you for reading, and I will see you in the next one. Ciao!