AoP | B2 | Chapter 23: Departure for Oskon (Patreon)

Seth fell into step behind Professor Reat, the man's dark instructor uniform gleaming in the sunlight as it contrasted with the dull clothing of the people around them. The man navigated Trogan's marketplace's throng with ease, his long strides never breaking and forcing Seth to hurry to keep pace. The professor glanced over his shoulder to look at Seth and sighed.

"I know you have your secrets," he began, his voice low enough not to carry too far but high enough to be heard despite the merchants hawking their wares around them, "but you could have at least kept me in the loop. I spent the last week calling in favors I didn't have to find a solution for your eye problem, only to find out your Alchemist friend just… made you a potion."

Seth ducked under a low-hanging awning. "I didn't even know a potion like that existed. I just asked the Wandering Merchant we use as a middleman to see if he could find something to conceal them."

Professor Reat fell silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the crowd ahead while the tight line of his shoulders seemed to relax. "Fine," he finally said, weaving through the river of people. "We'll still need an excuse for you to suddenly change eye colors before the skirmishes."

Seth pulled the small wooden box from his pouch, lifted the lid slightly, and sneaked a glance at the vial of shimmering emerald liquid to cast Intermediate Identify.

      Green-Iris Potion

      Consumable

      Tier: Iron

      Grade: Epic

      Effects: 

      - Change the color of the iris to a vivid green.

      - Duration: 6 hours

      - Restriction of 1 every day.

Seth frowned. With such a duration, he would have to take it tomorrow morning, directly before the exhibition fights. "What if I go on a quick hunt early in the morning?" he said, meeting the professor's sidelong look. "Then, when I come back, my eyes will have changed color, and I'll just say I ate a weird berry. People will believe I'm dumb enough to do something like that."

"Because you are," the professor retorted with a dry chuckle. "Alright, that should work. Just be sure to invent a description for a non-existent berry. Something believable."

Seth nodded, stowing away the box in his Endless Pouch as they continued their brisk walk. A few minutes later, the chaos of Trogan's market gave way to the more orderly bustle of the caravan station. Half a dozen large wagons, each pulled by a pair of sturdy Silver-maned Horses, were being loaded with goods and passengers. Seth's eyes swept over them before being drawn to a much larger vehicle that was set apart from the others.

It was less a caravan and more a carriage of war, built from a dark, polished wood that seemed to drink the sunlight. Faint, silvery runes traced intricate patterns across its surface, and a subtle amount of aether hovered over it like a heat haze. But it was the beasts at the front that truly stole Seth's breath. Four magnificent horses, larger than any he had ever seen, stood patiently in their harnesses. Their coats were the color of a gathering storm cloud, a mix of black, indigo, and grey, and with every subtle movement, arcs of pale blue lightning danced along their manes and fetlocks. 

Stormlight Horses, Seth thought, recognizing the beasts. A Silver-potential species.

"Is… is that ours?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Professor Reat glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "With a normal caravan, it would take more than a day to reach Oskon. The fights are scheduled for tomorrow morning."

Seth's lips turned into a thin line. Yeah, that's true.

Reat led the way, his boots echoing on the heavy ramp that had been lowered from the side of the vehicle. Seth followed and stepped inside before pausing, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit interior. 

Cushioned benches lined the caravan's walls, upholstered in rich, dark velvet. A small table, nailed to the floor, held a crystal-clear decanter of what appeared to be… wine. Seated within were the other passengers, who included Captain Michaelson in full military uniform, medals gleaming across his chest, and Intendant Lancet, clad in the same dark instructor's jacket as Professor Reat.

Marine, Elena, and Brandon were already there, their scarlet uniforms immaculate. With them were three other students that Seth didn't recognize, though the golden '2's and '3's embroidered above the owl on their chest pockets indicated that they were all second- and third-year students. The moment they noticed him and his gray uniform, the faces of all three strangers tightened. 

Their eyes swept over him with barely veiled disdain, the unspoken thought plain in their expressions: a commoner like him didn't belong here.

A bright smile flashed across Marine's face, and she patted the empty space on the velvet bench beside her. "Hey, Seth! Come sit here."

Seth's gaze flickered past her to Elena, who sat next to her brother. For a heartbeat, he considered sitting next to her, but before he could take a single step, Professor Reat let out a theatrical groan and dropped into the seat himself, sprawling and letting his head fall against the cabin's wall.

With a resigned, inward sigh, Seth headed toward Marine, the glares of the three other nobles piercing him like swords. As he finally sat down, the plush cushion sinking beneath him, Marine leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

"I haven't forgotten, you know," she murmured, a glint in her blue eyes. "How you refused to lose on purpose for me. It really made me sad."

Seth shot her a sideways glare but chose not to answer.

Diagonally across from them, Brandon shifted, his broad shoulders seeming to lack some place between the window and his sister. He looked at the second- and third-year students, who all stared at Seth, then forced a wide grin. "I can't wait to get there," he said in an apparent attempt to shatter the heavy mood. "Time to show the Empire that Kastal won't just get rolled over!"

Before anyone could second him, a gruff voice cut through the cabin from the left. "You shouldn't be excited, Surani," Captain Michaelson said, his arms crossed over his chest. "You should be nervous. There's a reason we had to surrender during the Red War fifteen years ago. Let it be spells, gear, coordination, or Artificers' devices—in every single aspect, they were better than us."

Brandon's smile faltered. "But… we're better prepared this time, right, sir?"

"No," the captain answered flatly. "We have far fewer Wielders than they do, thanks to… circumstances. Which means we always train with Protecting Belts on. We don't take real risks." He stopped for a moment and swept his gaze across the students in the carriage. "Which of you has ever had to fight while being injured and in excruciating pain? Had an ally die right beside you? Has ever killed a man with your own hands…"

His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on Seth.

Then, a heavy hush descended upon the caravan. One by one, almost every eye—Elena's, Brandon's, Marine's, the three second- and third years'—widened a little as they turned toward him.

Yeah, he had killed. And they all knew it.

'Why are they all reacting like that?' Nightmare said through Link.

'Because nobles never get their hands dirty,' Seth answered.

Marine's soft chuckle beside him broke the silence. "They'll be surprised we brought a commoner," she began before pausing for a moment. "Or maybe they've already heard tales of the People's Hero!" she then exclaimed, her voice ringing with mocking grandeur.

"Marine…" Intendant Lancet muttered with a stern expression from her seat near the Captain.

The brown-haired noblewoman turned toward the woman and threw her hands up in a helpless shrug. "What? That's what people in Trogan call him. At the Adventurers Guild's outpost, too!"

Professor Reat, his head still leaning against the cabin's wall, pressed his lips together. "Nah," he drawled without opening his eyes. "They call him greenhorn, rookie, or newbie."

Marine scoffed, turning back to the man. "Really? And you were calling him a genius?"

The corner of Professor Reat's mouth twitched. "That… was before I learned he has absolutely nothing between the ears."

"Heyyy, I—"

But before Seth could finish protesting, the door to the caravan slid open, and Director Ryehill stepped inside, ducking slightly to clear the frame. His usual black jacket was gone, replaced by a deep blue robe trimmed with gold, and a dark, rune-etched staff was strapped across his back. The entire kit radiated power—so much so that Seth could feel the weight of it pressing faintly against his skin.

He looks like he's the one going to fight, he thought.

Director Ryehill's sharp gaze moved to each of the students. "Everyone is here. Great! Let's get going, then."

As the director sat in the remaining empty seat next to Professor Reat, he brought a hand to his throat, and a single, almost invisible wisp of aether drifted from between his lips. It flowed like a living thing, and the azure thread of compacted sound coiled out the open window and vanished. Seth watched, mesmerized. That was a level of aether control he'd never witnessed, or even thought possible.

The next moment, a faint jolt rippled through the carriage.

Seth blinked, surprised by how little he felt the vehicle moving—no lurch, no jarring pull. Curious, he looked through the reinforced window on his right and watched as the caravan station, the city, and the surrounding landscape melted into a blur of color.

The acceleration was so smooth, so gradual, he never would've guessed they were picking up speed at such a staggering rate. And yet now, they were slicing across the land with a velocity that defied belief.

He felt a gaze on him and turned to meet Elena's. The noblewoman offered him a timid, hesitant smile from across the aisle, then mouthed the words. How was your training session?

Seth was about to lift his hand to make a so-so gesture when Marine turned to him with. "If you want, I can use my connections to get you switched to our squad, Mister Genius."

Seth's eyes widened. For a moment, his thoughts flicked to his own squad, Selena, and Henry, with his relentless optimism. "No, thanks," he then answered with a shake of his head before leaning in slightly. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "Kind of strange for you to suggest that… considering you tried to blackmail me eight months ago."

"Hey," Marine retorted with a light tone, feigning to be offended, "I never actually put a bounty on your head, you know."

Seth's jaw tightened. "Great. You made me live in fear for nothing, then."

The noblewoman rolled her blue eyes. "Oh, stop it. You already had to be careful and sneak around because of Lucius. It didn't change anything."

Seth bit back the insult burning on his tongue and just stared at her as she let out a soft chuckle. To her, it was nothing but a game—making him live in fear, forcing him to choose between throwing his match and being expelled, or getting ambushed again. And she found that funny.

Nobles, he hissed inwardly. They all think the world owes them everything. That nothing has consequences for them.

His gaze briefly caught the other second- and third-year students as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Jaw tight, he drew in slow, steady breaths to quiet the stir of his core within his chest. In their mind, they were all at the top. The apex predators.

Not for long.