Corvis Eralith
"Unleash."
A Bubblespell of teal Trucewater exploded outward from my core, the liquid light unfurling like the petals of some impossible blossom and I felt the familiar lurch of the river claiming me.
The world dissolved into a swirl of color and sensation: the cold embrace of the Truce-Waters, the distant turning of the golden threads above, the weight of moments folding back upon themselves.
Then I was back, standing on the rooftops of Xyrus Academy for the fifth time since I Captured it.
Below my feet were the blue tiles of the academy's rooftops. Around me, the autumn wind tugged at my uniform, carrying fallen leaves and smoke.
"This new way to use REtrocurrent is amazing," I told to myself, satisfaction mingling with the exhaustion that always followed my interactions with the Alacryan spy.
Despite all the bad news I had discovered from my multiple interrogations of Kai Crestless, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at my growing mastery over the river.
Each loop brought me closer to understanding the full extent of my power, while each interrogation peeled back another layer of the conspiracy that threatened Dicathen.
I sat down on the edge of one of the academy's rooftops, my legs dangling in the empty space below as I enjoyed the wind of the floating island and the lukewarm sun of autumn.
The sun—Mordain, as the Djinn called it—bathed me in its golden light, temperate and indifferent, and I let myself exist in that moment, suspended between the solidity of the past and the uncertainty of the future.
Sitting there, looking at the school life below, I saw students of all years rushing outside the various complexes of the campus to run through the carefully maintained gardens of the academy to not be late to their next lecture.
Their voices rose in a chorus of laughter and urgency, carried by the wind in fragments that dissolved before I could fully grasp them.
Others, however, skipped their classes, deciding to hang out with each other until one of their upperclassmen, like Theodore Maxwell had tried to do with me, or a professor caught them.
While outwardly, the world remained mundane, inside my mind, a silent war was being waged: a clash between the continent's Fate under the Arbiter's guard and the staggering scope of Agrona's design.
House Wykes was already working with Alacrya, years earlier than the novel and without even a defeated Dicathen.
The thought settled in my chest, heavy and immovable. What was Otis Wykes thinking? Did Agrona choose that infamous Fiery House as his puppet instead of the Greysunders in this timeline?
That was very bad. Other than being rich, influential, and magically very, very talented, House Wykes had a Lance under their name.
A Lance that, just like Olfred with Elder Rahdeas, did not have his monarch—the Artifact-holder Blaine Glayder—as his first fealty: Bairon Wykes.
And what made it worse was that unlike Olfred, I already knew Bairon was able to change, to become a hero for Dicathen.
With the dwarven Lance, I had made a gamble; a gamble that had repaid all too well, but a gamble nonetheless. With Bairon? I trusted that I could easily sway him fully to Dicathen's side with little effort.
Bairon was already loyal to the continent, but he was more loyal to House Wykes. That was what made him a variable.
Now? What did this mean for Dicathen and my plans?
I raised my head, looking at the cerulean sky dotted by few ivory-white clouds. A speck of white, tinged with aquamarine, dived from above and gracefully landed on my shoulder.
Chantelle, who I had ordered to accompany me to Xyrus whenever I visited, inconspicuously moved sideways closer to my face, her little talons gripping the fabric of Leòn Leurenzian's school uniform. She rubbed her dove body against my cheek.
"You are very pensive, Eralith," Chantelle said, her voice soft, carrying a note of concern. "Is something troubling you?"
"Yes, a bird is using my face as a backscratcher," I whined, but I didn't do anything to shoo Chantelle off of me.
Luckily, Berna wasn't here; otherwise, she would be furious by seeing Chantelle acting like this. Furious with jealousy.
"Chantelle," I said, my mind churning on a solution. "Does anyone in our Clan have expertise in spy missions? Reconnaissance."
"Solleandro!" Chantelle beamed, her voice bright with certainty. "He is the Phoenix for you!"
Vague memories resurfaced in my mind from the depths of the river. A Phoenix boy, zealously loyal to the Asclepius Clan and a fervent admirer of Mordain Asclepius and, by extension, Lady Dawn... and me in a life long past.
A bearer of conservative values, even for the oldest of the Hearth despite his age. Currently, he was tasked with guarding over the Bough of the Canopie, the noble district of Zestier, in the Queen's Grove.
"I will ask Soleil and then talk with Solleandro personally," I replied.
For now I still had some time. From my... persuasive... talks with Kai Crestless, some of which I wasn't very proud of, I had managed to learn that he met with Draneeve monthly at most, and that the next encounter would have been in two weeks which, for this timeline, still held true.
I would have to infiltrate the operations of House Wykes. With that, I would also help resolve the plague of slave trading that haunted Elenoir.
I still kept the letter signed by Magnus Redson speaking about slave routes meant for House Wykes, the one I had found while traveling to Azellio with Tessia.
"Two weeks, huh?" I pondered. There was another very important event coming up in two weeks: "Alwyn's tenth birthday is in little less than two weeks too."
—
Seizing the opportunity of all the spare time I had before needing to return to Pitrah, thanks to the Bubblespell I had Captured, I decided to take a stroll through Xyrus City, even if my destination was very clear in my mind: the Helstea Auction House.
Dawn's Ballad, the weapon that had accompanied Arthur for most of his life, forged by Wren Kain IV, was located in its warehouse, considered just a hard-to-break black rod due to no one being able to unsheathe it.
That, that would be the perfect gift for my best friend, especially considering Alwyn's peculiar fighting style.
Alea's brother had this obsession to become a master of all elven weapons, and Dawn's Ballad, originally meant by its creator to be a one-fits-all type of weapon, was perfect for it.
With a pouch of golden coins in my hand, just a little of the money I had actually earned in the last months, I walked through the streets of Xyrus City.
The Unraveler's Company was filthy profitable, and I had both the earnings of Finn Warend and Corvis Eralith for myself.
Furthermore, all of that was to add to the sum I had gained by selling the rights of the Water Generator to the Greysunders and all the money deriving from the Servo-Limbs.
Despite I and Elder Rahdeas agreeing to give them for free to those in need, the Servo-Limbs were still largely bought by lesser nobility, soldiers, and other merchants.
Where were all of those built? In Burim, of course. I wouldn't be surprised if the second city of Darv were to become its first one day, even if that would certainly bring instability in the dwarven kingdom.
Whistling an Earthen song, melody of a world that might never have been, I approached the large building that was the Helstea Auction House.
It was a grand structure that looked like the exterior of any classical theatre from Europe, located in the outskirts of the floating island, far from the bustling magical centre, making the auction house itself stand out amongst the other buildings.
Guarding the fenced gate in front of the entrance were a group of guards in light leather armours made more for elegance and appearance rather than actual protection. They stood at attention, their postures relaxed but their eyes watchful.
I looked down at my own attire, the school uniform of Xyrus Academy.
Maybe I should have changed my clothes...
Was Finn Warend a smarter choice of identity? I didn't think so; the supposed great-nephew of Dicathen's richest merchant would not have been greeted very warmly by other merchants like House Helstea.
I stashed the coin pouch inside my storage ring and approached the Helstea Auction House.
—
Inside, the Helstea Auction House was a world unto itself, a microcosm of Sapin's wealth and magical commerce contained within walls of polished marble and golden trim.
The main hall buzzed with restless energy:
Staff members in tailored uniforms hurried between displays, their footsteps a steady rhythm against the polished stone floor.
Guards in sleek leather armor stood at attention, their postures rigid and their eyes scanning the room as they managed the bustling staff with sharp vigilance.
Around every corner I turned, auctioneers rehearsed their pitch-voices, their cadences rising and falling as they praised the qualities of unseen artifacts to the empty air.
Lastly, servants rushed through the corridors, checking that every surface was pristine as I passed through—the sole calm current in the wildly churning river that was the Helstea Auction House.
I stepped around them, a ghost in their midst. My presence was noted, but never questioned.
"The tenth anniversary of the auction house should be nearby..." I murmured, the words barely audible over the ambient noise. "What a fateful turn of events."
The reason for my unquestioned passage was the uniform of Xyrus Academy I wore, granting me rather easy access to the Auction House. No one made too many questions after their initial surprise at seeing a student so young personally, rather than one of the servants of his noble house.
The crest of Cynthia's academy etched on the chest was a small passepartout.
Every time one asked me about my parents, I always offered them the same answer: that I came here with permission from my legal guardian—I omitted saying the name Cynthia Goodsky for now—but that she couldn't come along because she was a very busy woman.
Leòn Leurenzian's cover story was simple. After an unfortunate incident took his parents far too soon, the Director of Xyrus Academy had taken him under her wing. I was confident Cynthia wouldn't object to playing the part.
"Excuse me!" I exclaimed, pulling the uniform of a guard. "Could you tell me where I can find Mr. Helstea? I would like to visit the warehouse of the auction house."
The security guard, with his stylish leather armour, more fitting for a ball than for defence duty, made a puzzled expression. His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he took in my youthful face and the uniform I wore.
But upon seeing the crest of Xyrus Academy, he nodded to himself, the suspicion fading from his features. No wonder attending the academy was so sought after; not only did it offer the best magic teachings of Dicathen, but it also came with useful perks.
"Mr. Helstea is busy with the preparations of the upcoming event, young mage," the guard said. "He is n—"
With a perfectly concealed smirk, I retrieved the coins I had brought with me, and the security guard halted whatever he was going to add.
"I am a paying client," I said, a bit of Finn Warend seeping through Leòn. "I am sure Mr. Helstea can save a bit of time for me. If not for me, then for my guardian—Director Cynthia Goodsky."
"You? The esteemed Director's protégé?" The guard laughed, a short, dismissive sound. "Sorry if I don't believe you."
"I am sure Mr. Helstea can get in contact with the Director himself to prove the truthfulness of my words," I said with a nod of my head, smiling as I spoke.
Something similar happened to Arthur in the novel, with him getting in contact with Cynthia through a communication scroll just to settle a case of racism.
In this timeline, Cynthia saw me as both the threat that could unravel her entire existence and as a god. She would oblige my request.
I was escorted directly to Vincent Helstea.
I found the human merchant waiting in the VIP hall reserved strictly for the highest-tier guests—the very room that hosted the Glayders during the auction house's tenth anniversary in the original novel, and one that would likely see the King and Queen of Sapin soon enough in this timeline too.
The hall was bathed in light from massive candelabras suspended above. In place of wax candles, they held clusters of slender, rod-shaped illumination artifacts.
Beneath them, Vincent was locked in discussion about the upcoming auction with a painfully familiar, greige-haired man: Reynolds Leywin.
The father of this world's protagonist in a timeline that would now never come to be.
By Fate's infinite threads, what was the Leywin family doing in Xyrus City? They moved to the floating island only because Arthur awakened as a mage as an infant!
They should have remained in Ashber, in the north of Sapin, in this timeline.
"Mr. Helstea, Captain," the security guard accompanying me interrupted the two men—right, Reynolds found a job as head of Vincent's security, in The Beginning After The End and here too. "Sorry to interrupt your preparations, but this young mage wanted to buy something from the auction house."
Vincent and Reynolds turned, and while my focus should have been on the former, my attention was entirely on Arthur's father.
He gave a nod to the security guard who had accompanied me, thanking and dismissing him, his blue eyes—Arthur's eyes—were blue like Lake Brumiel in Eidelholm, expressing friendliness and tranquility.
"He also says he is Director Goodsky's protégé, but..." the guard started, only to be stopped by Reynolds's cough.
"The boy can speak for himself," the Leywin said. "I know you were a former city guard in Ekshire, Malcolm, but you shouldn't be treating people like they are under arrest. Especially if they are kids."
"Apologies, sir..." the young Malcolm said, his face flushing with embarrassment.
"Especially if it's the protégé of our beloved Director herself!" Vincent exclaimed, his voice taking on a tone I used quite often as Finn Warend too.
But while Finn Warend was a high-pressure merchant, a charismatic seller and an inspiring leader forged by the recent turmoil of the Throneholder competition and the Pits of Vildorial...
Vincent Helstea was the accommodating sort of merchant; his strategy lay in making his clients feel completely comfortable and at ease.
"How can I help you, young man?" Vincent asked, casually leaning on the nearby counter reserved for serving VIPs refreshing drinks and exquisite foods.
I couldn't help but notice Reynolds's smirk of amusement at his friend's antics.
"Are you not going to verify my words?" I asked, surprised by Vincent's easygoing personality and his quite extravagant way of carrying himself.
"I like to trust in the good heart of people," Vincent said, his smile warm and genuine.
"Vincent here is a naive fool," Reynolds commented jokingly. "I wonder how he became so rich and successful as a merchant!"
"It depends on what you call successful and rich," Vincent sighed. "I might be quite influential here in Sapin, but outside... that dwarf..."
He was speaking of Elder Rahdeas, wasn't he? I hid a smirk. Comparing the Warend Trading Company and the Helstea Auction Houses was like comparing the Dutch East India Company with a singular, rich family.
"You will grow your hair white by continuing to whine about Rahdeas Warend, Vincent!" Reynolds exclaimed, patting the back of the saddened merchant.
"Now would you pay attention to the client in front of you?" Reynolds asked, then looking down to wink at me, he added: "Well, below you. Maybe you can even gain favour with Director Goodsky! That would be a deal that would make even Rahdeas Warend envious now, wouldn't it?"
Vincent sighed again, a sonorous sound full of surrender.
"How am I supposed to compete with the dwarf that opened up trade with Elenoir?!" Vincent exclaimed. "The Warend Trading Company is now selling elven artisanry and the Elshire Forest's foods! And he is sanctioned by Royal House Eralith! I heard that Prince Corvis"—(oh, that's me!)—"and Virion Eralith have close ties with that merchant-monster."
Reynolds tried to open his mouth, but Vincent was far from done.
"You who were an Adventurer must realize how massive the subsidiary organization of the Warend Trading Company is—the Unraveler's Company!" Vincent cried out, arms wide open. "They have the permission of Royal House Eralith to venture into the Beast Glades and the manpower of Darv and Elenoir both to fill its ranks!"
"Now that you mention it, the Twin Horns spoke to me about a certain elven Unraveler they met," Reynolds mentioned, probably speaking of Albold, scratching the back of his head and giving me a humbled bow for his friend's behaviour.
Oh, please continue, I wanted to say. I am having the time of my life. I had to admit it: it was fun hearing the opinion of people far from my usual social circle about the changes I was making to Dicathen.
Moreover, the thought that if Fate had chosen to reincarnate their Arbiter in Sapin Vincent himself could have been the one benefiting from all my endeavors, only made the situation more amusing.
"And what about Rahdeas Warend's family?" Vincent continued, his hands running through his hair. "His son is a royal guard of the Greysunders, but that's the lesser part—and that alone frightens me. Have you heard about his great-nephew? I swear it, Master Artificer Gideon Bastius went out of his way to have that dwarven boy meet him in Xyrus!"
Oh, they saw Himes accompanying me to Gideon's laboratory. That made sense; it wasn't like I was deliberately trying to be invisible.
"Gideon Bastius's only interactions are with the king and queen!" Vincent blurted out. "He only works when it's Blaine Glayder who orders so! And Finn Warend—creator of the highest and fastest selling objects in history, by the way—was personally escorted by Himes Cogwright!"
It seemed Gideon's butler was more famous than I had given him credit for, and that surname... Cogwright—it was mentioned in the novel, but REtrocurrent wasn't supplying me with the exact passage right now.
I decided that I had enough of hearing the poor, desperate Vincent Helstea complain about the effects of my decisions. I coughed.
"Mr. Helstea, if it can make you happy... I am willing to pay a good sum for what I am searching for!" I said, my voice loud and clear as I used a tiny bit of sound magic to help.
Reynolds let a surprised expression wash over his face at the sight of sound magic, something rarer for humans than for elves.
Vincent shook his head and made a pivot, returning his attention fully to me.
"You are truly a kindhearted boy," Vincent chuckled. "You need something for school work? Elixirs, maybe? Servants of the noble students of the academy sometimes pass by to make offers for certain objects, but I don't know what I can give that the Director doesn't already have."
"I would like to search for a sword," I said, using the same words as Arthur, he had found Dawn's Ballad while searching for a new weapon. "Could I take a look at the collection? I promise to give you an extra for disturbing you while you are preparing for such an event..."
Reynolds gave a powerful pat to Vincent's shoulder.
"Vincent needs to think about something else!" the Leywin said. "I think doing normal merchant work will help him relax his nerves."
"Reynolds, you..." Vincent nodded at the former Adventurer's words after an initial surprise. "You are right."
I followed Vincent Helstea to the warehouse of his auction house.
—
I was right where I needed to be. The large warehouse of the Helstea Auction House stretched before me, a vast depot filled with all kinds of objects, from ancient relics to modern artifacts, from weapons to jewellery to furniture.
I started my search.
I passed beside weapons hanging on racks and those locked behind glass panels. Vincent Helstea, not listening to Reynolds, excused himself and returned to his job, telling me to look for him once I had found what I was searching for.
Really, what would happen if I tried to take something and run away?
Eventually, I found the black stick that was Dawn's Ballad's sheath. It was hidden alongside other walking canes, forgotten for how long in the depths of the depot.
I took it, and after feeling the weight and slight similarity to Fiorwato—the unmistakable sign of Titan's craftsmanship—I confirmed it as being Wren Kain's failed project.
I stood unmoving with the weapon in my arms, an idea sparking in my head. What was better: Evascir Gigante's or Wren Kain IV's forgery?
"Capture."
To avoid permanently breaking one of the two weapons, I Captured a Bubblespell, the teal Trucewater imploding on my core.
"Now... how do I open you, Dawn's Ballad?" I asked the sheathed sword, even if it couldn't answer me.
In the Hearth, I had managed to wield Suncrusher, a weapon of old crafted by the first Wren Kain for a brief moment thanks to Massbinding. It didn't hurt to try.
REmould made me Finn Warend, and as the ochre runes of the Kain Clan flared on the backs of my hands flared, I gripped each end of Dawn's Ballad.
Then, I pulled each extremity apart.
I felt the gravity magic do its work: creating two forces equal in strength, but opposite in direction.
Dawn's Ballad, in response, started to vibrate—
My heart skipped a beat. I widened my eyes behind the green lenses I wore as every instinct of mine screamed danger, and a powerful mana signature tried to escape Dawn's Ballad!
"What?!" I dropped the sword, as I saw a hundred tiny needles of pure earth mana appearing alongside the shaft, my dwarven hands starting to bleed.
I returned to Leòn Leurenzian, one hand becoming malachite, while I flooded the other with mana and washed the wound with water magic to stop the bleeding and accelerate the natural healing.
Flying around the warehouse like a frenzied predator, Dawn's Ballad twisted violently in midair, spitting razor-sharp earth crystals in every direction like a haywire Gatling gun.
"The fatal mistake in Dawn's Ballad's creation!" I exclaimed under my breath as I dodged mana crystal after mana crystal.
The projectiles I dodged hit the walls, the ceilings, the stands with the other weapons of the warehouse, causing a din of fractured glass around the warehouse.
With the Inner Current of the river strong on my aide, I drew Fiorwato in a flash, cleaving the air the exact moment a mana crystal, yellow as the best piece of golden jewellery, shot toward my chest.
The instant my emerald blade made contact, Fiorwato pulverized it, shattering the projectile into a cloud of volatile earth mana as the sound magic coating my wand-cane hummed with a low, resonating note: C flat.
A cry—young, high-pitched, and feminine—broke the din, but I was too occupied stopping the rogue Titan weapon to think about it.
Cutting through the air, I lunged forward and threw myself at Dawn's Ballad like a cop tackling a fugitive.
The weapon lashed out, slicing across my chest. It tore through my uniform and bruised the flesh beneath, saved from a lethal blow only by the jade bracelet on my wrist (I was lucky I haven't managed to unsheathe the sword within).
REmould answered, Finn Warend returned, and I tried to invert whatever was happening; the cog-like runes of the Clan of Kain turning and turning as if they were trying to repair the damage rather than listening to me.
What even is Berna's Acquire Phase?! I screamed in my head, gritting my teeth as I fought the... the stick.
The scene would have been worthy of a circus if this rod wasn't stronger than a damned fully-grown World Lion!
I thrashed on the ground, my head hitting the floor hard, the impact—thanks Fate—being absorbed by my bracelet.
I continued to wrestle the sword as it continued to fire mana crystal bolt after mana crystal bolt.
"I order you to stop!" I shouted, sweat drenching my body when Massbinding finally submitted to my will and decided to stop the futile attempt at repairing Dawn's Ballad.
Now I really wanted to meet Berna's creator. What did they put in my gentle Guardian Bear to make her Beast Will so... stubborn? Well, Berna was pretty stubborn in certain things, so I guess it suited her in a strange way.
Leòn returned and I let the Trucewater of Inner Current wash away the lingering pain from my fight with a sheath. I would certainly need to purge whatever was causing Dawn's Ballad to be like that before gifting it to Alwyn.
"H-hey, are you fine?" I reopened my eyes as I heard the scared voice.
A little girl with long hair and large hazel eyes the colour of Berna's fur shyly looked at me, the ruckus my unexpected encounter left behind around her.
I will have to repay Vincent for the damage, I sighed in my head as my eyes settled on Lilia Helstea, because who else but Lilia Helstea could she be?
"Yes, I am fine," I said, standing up and cleaning off dust and debris from my uniform with Ars Ariamorph. A powerful gust of wind came from above, showering me and cleaning my uniform. "And you? You didn't get hurt, I hope?"
"N-no. You diverted the crystals from reaching me..." Lilia said, looking down in shame. "Thanks, Mr. Mage."
"My name is Leòn," I said. "And don't make that face! You did nothing wrong."
"Go tell that to my father..." Lilia said when finally the security guards of the Helstea Auction House, led by Reynolds Leywin and with Vincent Helstea on the rear, burst inside.
"What happened here?!" Reynolds shouted as he looked around, before noticing me and Lilia. Vincent pushed the captain of his security away, rushing to his daughter.
"Lilia!" Vincent cried out. "Divine Dragon! A-are you fine?"
I grimaced at the expression used by Vincent. Sapin's religion, differently from the Verticil and Darffism, was unmistakably directed to the Asuras of Epheotus. The Dragon Divine matched Kezess Indrath very, very well.
"I am fine, Dad... Leòn protected me," Lilia said, driving the attention of her father from herself to me. From the novel, I remembered that was a key aspect of her character: she didn't like her parents' incessant attention.
Her plan succeeded. Vincent turned to me with thankful eyes, but I stopped him before he could speak.
"All of this happened because of me," I confessed, passing him the coins I had brought with me. "I also found what I was searching for—this."
I took Dawn's Ballad from the floor and showed it to Vincent.
"The rest is for the damage," I said before Vincent could say anything about the amount of money I had given him.
And yet, and yet it still seemed not enough for the damages I caused the warehouse. Money were good, only a fool would deny it, but merchants valued tradable goods even more than currency.
Wait! I have an idea.
"Wait a second, Mr. Helstea!" I called out, reaching into the pocket dimension of my storage ring until I found it, resting right beside Mordain's rainbow plume. "Take this as a gesture of peace!"
I offered Vincent a crystalline organ the size of my palm. It gleamed an enchanting blue with a metallic sheen, streaked with subtle white veins. It was beast core of the Iron Hydrax I had felled alongside the Dungeon Crawlers.
"Is that a beast core?" Vincent asked, taking the heavy crystal into his hands with the characteristic curiosity of a merchant.
"From what kind of mana beast did that come from?" Reynolds asked, stepping up beside Vincent to examine the core. "It has to be at least A-Class! It leaks mana like few beast cores I have seen."
"A-Class? Overflowing with mana? And potentially carrying a Beast Will?!" Vincent let out an ecstatic chuckle, a massive grin spreading across his face. "All is forgiven! Leòn, was it? If you ever need anything—and I mean anything—my door is always open!"
"I hate to correct you, Captain," I said, turning to Reynolds as he leaned in closer. "But that core belonged to an Iron Hydrax."
The chorus of disbelief that erupted next, from Vincent, Reynolds, the guards, and even little Lilia, was impossible to faithfully convey in Common Dicathian.