Several days into their journey towards Aslilia, having passed south of Nordhall, in a region dominated by open landscapes and blessed with moderate weather, Clytos, Eden, and the soldiers took a much-needed respite. They sat around a makeshift camp, eating grilled meat and resting weary bodies. The aroma of cooked food mingled with the fresh scent of the surrounding wilderness.

  Eden, his curiosity piqued by recent events, turned to Clytos. "Master," he began, "may I ask a question?"

  Clytos, chewing thoughtfully, nodded. "Of course, Eden. Ask."

  "I didn't know you could practice magic," Eden said, his voice hesitant. "How did you learn?"

  Clytos's gaze drifted towards the distant horizon, a hint of reminiscence in his eyes. "At the Palace of Wisdom in Valdria," he explained, "magic is an essential part of the curriculum. Their sciences are incomplete without it. An art. Not just an item to find."

  Eden's eyes widened. "If Valdria is filled with powerful magicians like you?"

  "It is the cradle of sciences, including magic," Clytos says. "But it's not as easy as you might think, Eden. It demands seriousness and unwavering diligence. Casting even a single spell requires tremendous energy, to start with."

  A spark of hope ignited in Eden's eyes. "Can I learn it?"

  Clytos met his gaze, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Certainly. If you love it, you will learn it. They always told us, 'Do not use your powers and knowledge for trivial purposes. Use them for significant purposes. But first you must realize your purpose. That is the most important thing. Consider this your first lesson."

  Eden absorbed Clytos's words, repeating them softly, almost reverently, a warm smile on his face. "Don't use… knowledge… small, purposes… significant…"

  Suddenly, one of the soldiers approached, his hurried steps and anxious expression disrupting the quiet moment. "Sir! Clytos! The injured soldier… his condition is worsening! We've done everything we can, but… he's in terrible pain. Please… is there anything you can do?"

  Clytos rose instantly, his face etched with concern. "Take me to him."

  Eden followed close behind as Clytos and the soldier hurried towards the injured man, who lay moaning softly on the wagon, his body still and unmoving. Clytos knelt beside him, his eyes carefully assessing the soldier's pale face and labored breathing. He gently opened one of the man's eyelids, examining the dull, unfocused eye beneath.

  "Help me lower him to the ground," Clytos instructed, his voice somber.

  Aided by Eden and the other soldiers, Clytos carefully moved the injured man from the cart to the soft earth.

  Clytos knelt again, his hand hovering over the soldier's chest. He turned to Eden. "Bring me water."

  Eden quickly retrieved a waterskin and offered it to his master.

  "Clytos paused, glancing at his right hand, still wrapped in a blood-stained bandage from his previous exertion. He reached into a small pouch at his hip and retrieved a handful of Sacred Crystals. He held his injured hand open. 'Eden, pour some water over these. Here'"

  As Eden poured a small stream of water onto Clytos's palm, Clytos turned to the other soldiers, his voice heavy with a grim resignation. "I will attempt to heal him," he said. "But even magic has its limitations. There is a chance he will not survive." He paused, looking into the faces of the anxious men. "This is your comrade. Do I have your consent?"

  One of the soldiers, his voice choked with emotion, stepped forward. "He's already suffering, Master Clytos. Either way, we want his suffering stopped! Either he lives… or finds a merciful release."

  Clytos nodded solemnly. "Then… stand back. Give me space."

  Eden and the soldiers retreated a few paces, their eyes fixed on Clytos and the injured soldier.

  Clytos closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to chant, his voice a low, guttural murmur. "Hiala… Odai…"

  The Sacred Crystals in his palm, bathed in the water and, a mixture… by both!, began to glow with a faint, pulsing light. They danced, shimmering, in the weak, sunlight. A faint, green luminescence, emanating…. Clytos swiftly moved his hand, positioning his palm directly over the injured soldier's chest. A beam of vibrant green light shot forth, bathing the soldier's body in its otherworldly glow. The injured man's body arched, his back lifting from the ground as if lifted by an invisible force. A muffled cry escaped his lips, his eyes widened slightly, only. And from all of the sudden… a green light, too strong, started escaping his mouth… and… eye.

  Then, as suddenly as it began, the light faded. The soldier's body fell back to the earth, his limbs limp, all… his struggles now, and forever… gone. All… went to… still.

  Clytos, his face pale and strained, his body visibly weakened by the effort, checked the soldier's pulse. He slowly shook his head, his expression somber. "He is gone," he announced, his voice barely above a whisper.

  He then gestured to the other soldiers. "Bury him here."

  The soldiers, their faces etched with grief, gently lifted their fallen comrade and carried him away, preparing to give him a final resting place in the unfamiliar soil.

  Eden, concerned, hurried to Clytos's side. "Master, are you alright?"

  Clytos, breathing a little heavily, replied, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Go and help them."

  ""As you command, Master," Eden said, and went to the soldiers.

  Clytos lies, down, on the ground, trying to catch his breath...

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows and painting the sky with the colors of dusk, Clytos and Eden finally crossed the border, entering the lands of Aslilia. Clytos reined in his horse, turning to Eden.

  "Eden," he said, producing a small, rolled-up parchment. "Take this." He handed the scroll to his apprentice. "I need you to go to Eryndor. Travel, to it, with a few of the soldiers. Give this to Valerius. I've heard reports of a Skittermaw corpse there – that it attacked a, that. Their mine… a recent event. I want you to retrieve it for me. Bring it back to Aslilia." He then produced a pouch, heavy with coins, and offered it to Eden. "Take this, too. You'll need it to hire a cart… for transport. And… enjoy a little comfort… while you're there. Spend some time with your friends."

  Eden smiled, accepting the scroll and the pouch. "Won't you have a problem, master?" he asked, "But… Master… will you be alright, alone?"

  Clytos waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about me, lad. I'll be fine. Now, go, before I change my mind."

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "Yes, Master," Eden replied, his eagerness evident. "I'm going now. I'll see you later in Aslilia."

  With a final nod, Eden turned his horse eastward, towards Eryndor, gathering a small escort of soldiers to accompany him.

  ***

  That evening, Bran, Davos, and Amara, weary and saddle-sore, rode back towards Valerius's palace in Eryndor. They, reaching their destination. Dismounting, entered its gates, approached the main entrance, dismounted their horses, and. There, Valerius himself stood waiting for them, an unnerving smile plastered across his face.

  He approached as they approached, their figures silhouetted against the palace lights. "I can't believe it," he said, his voice dripping with a false surprise. "You actually did it. You survived. You continue to amaze me."

  Bran, his face set in a grim, angry expression, retorted, "Listen, Valerius. Despite the fact that you shoved us to death, risked all of our… and got us into this mess again… that, all… does not matter, but I'm warning you: Don't you dare use any of us as a hostage, against any other, ever…again! I warn you."

  Davos, standing beside Bran, added his support with a low, threatening growl, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his weapon.

  Amara, too, stepped forward, her voice cold and resolute. "I, too, will stand against you. I won't allow it, anymore. And I'll be by their side. You try, if, using that treatment, those... acts... ever again,. I warn you!"

  Valerius responded with a burst of laughter, startling them. He moved towards Bran, his movements unsettlingly familiar. He placed both his hands, palms flat, on Bran's cheeks, his thumbs stroking the skin lightly. "My dear little brother," he said, his voice sickeningly sweet. "I apologize for what I put you through. And now!… not only, do I promise not to do that again… no... Now.. truly, I am, indebted!. To, all of you.".

  And, leaned, pushing, to the front…

  He, Valerius. Pulled Bran into a shocking and swift and close. Embracing!…. And.. Kissing! Kissing, directly! On…the lips. A... Kiss!*

  The stunned silence that followed was broken only by Valerius's renewed laughter.

  Valerius placed his hand on Bran's shoulder. "Magnificent, isn't it?, My! How delighted I am by your success! You simply cannot fathom the depths of my joy."

  He led… guided, Bran, followed by stunned, speechless Amara, and Davos. Towards a great, festive palace. “Come! All of you!... Come… on!, We must! celebrate! Our victory.!"

  ***

  In the morning light, at the encampment of Aelius and his companions, Gavril sparred with Cassius and Drusus, their wooden practice weapons clashing in a rhythmic beat. Nearby, Fenrir practiced his archery, his arrows whistling through the air as they struck their target with consistent accuracy. Aelius, meanwhile, trained with Titus, their steel blades meeting in a flurry of movement.

  Titus attacked with a burst of speed, his swords a whirlwind of slashes – a feint to the right, a thrust to the left – but Aelius read his movements effortlessly. He parried each blow with ease, his own posture relaxed and confident, almost casual.

  Titus, pushing himself to his limit, unleashed his best attacks, a series of rapid strikes and lunges. Aelius, still unfazed, smoothly evaded the assault. With a swift, precise movement, he struck Titus's blade, sending the weapon flying from his grasp. Titus's sword spun through the air, landing with a dull thud on the ground.

  "Damn it, Aelius!" Titus exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice. "You've gotten even stronger. I can't keep up."

  Aelius, offering a small, encouraging smile, replied, "You're losing your focus, Titus. That's all." He paused. "Listen, Titus. I have a mission for you."

  Titus's eyes widened slightly. "A mission, Captain?"

  "I want you to go to Aslilia," Aelius explained. "Gather information. Find out what the situation is there. What's happened since… everything."

  Titus nodded, his expression turning serious. "As you command, Captain."

  Aelius clapped him on the shoulder. "Now, pick up your sword. Let's try again. And this time… don't lose your focus."

  He offered a reassuring smile, and they resumed their training, the clash of their swords once more filling the air.

  ***

  In the daylight, within the stables of Valerius's palace, Bran lay sprawled on a pile of hay, deeply asleep after a night of heavy drinking. A rude awakening came in the form of a bucket of cold water, dumped unceremoniously over his head.

  Bran sputtered, jolting upright, "What?! What the--? Who's there?" He frantically wiped the water from his eyes, his vision blurry, struggling to focus. A massive headache pulsed behind his eyes, a souvenir of the previous night's excess.

  "Finally awake, eh, Bran?" a familiar voice said.

  Bran squinted, recognition dawning slowly. "Eden?!" He scrambled to his hands and knees, crawling awkwardly towards the figure. "Is that… is that really you, Eden?" He reached out, touching Eden's leg tentatively, as if to confirm he wasn't hallucinating. "It is you!"

  Then, with a sudden surge of emotion, Bran threw his arms around Eden's legs, clinging to him in a desperate, almost childlike embrace. He began to sob theatrically, his voice a mixture of relief and exaggerated lament. "I'm so glad to see you! You have no idea what we've been through, brother! Waaaaah!"

  Eden, slightly embarrassed but clearly moved, crouched down and returned Bran's embrace, patting him awkwardly on the back. "You haven't changed a bit, Bran. It's good to see you, too."

  Later, Bran, still unsteady from the lingering effects of his hangover, leaned heavily on Eden as they walked through the palace's extensive outer gardens. Suddenly, they encountered Amara and Davos, the latter carrying a large load of firewood.

  Davos, upon seeing Eden, dropped the firewood with a clatter, the logs scattering across the path. He rushed towards them, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Eden!"

  Eden, equally surprised and delighted, exclaimed, "Davos!" He gently disengaged himself from Bran, who promptly collapsed onto the ground with a groan, seemingly unnoticed.

  Davos enveloped Eden in a bear hug, lifting him completely off his feet.

  "I've missed you so much, brother!" Eden said, laughing as Davos spun him around.

  Davos finally set him back down, his eyes shining with happiness. "You've gotten… huge, Davos!" Eden said, punching him playfully on the arm. "Strong."

  Davos grinned, flexing his bicep. He gestured towards Amara, who had been watching the reunion with a quiet smile. "I want you to meet our friend, Amara."

  Eden turned to her, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

  Amara shook his hand, her grip surprisingly firm. "The pleasure is all mine. Bran and Davos have told me a great deal about you."

  Davos, his face still beaming, said to Eden, "Did they take you to meet Lysander?"

  "I heard he's in charge of the mines now," Eden replied. "I'm excited to see him, really. But first, I have to meet with Ruler Valerius. I have something to deliver, sent by… Master, he. Give…"

  Bran, who had finally managed to pull himself up, interrupted, his voice slightly slurred. "Your… master?"

  "It's… a long story," Eden replied, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "Come on, Bran. Take me to Valerius."

  ***

  Bran and Eden stood within one of Valerius's receiving chambers. Valerius, in a state of languid repose, lay sprawled upon a plush divan. Two young women, acting in the moment. Kneeling on either side of him, were diligently massaging his body. The room itself was subtly opulent, decorated with a refined, but quiet! taste.

  "Sir," Eden said, addressing Valerius, trying to ignore the unusual circumstances, and taking… the next move. "I bring you this letter, note… from my master, Clytos."

  Eden, approaching… stepped forward, extending a hand. Offering. Valerius raised his hand, a lazy gesture, without… sitting up. Taking the offered scroll, to his hold.

  Eden, approached. Giving, that closed. Paper.

  On…his hand.

  Valerius's eyes, half-closed in pampered relaxation, flickered open slightly, scrutinizing, Eden. "Your face… isn't… unfamiliar," he murmured, his voice thick with indolence, as soft and quiet. "Have I seen you before? Somewhere? Perhaps, to guess, …Were you with, was with? Clytos… in Aslilia?"

  Eden, taken aback by the question, and the setting and the place. Replied, stammering slightly, "I… I don't believe so, sir. I don't, remember!"

  Valerius, seemingly losing interest, waved a dismissive hand, closing all sudden the subject.

  "No matter," he said. Turning to address, speaking to… Bran. "See it. The newcomer… That he, has all. Whatever. everything, to be correct, he requires. All that, to be, perfect and. Treat him, the treatment... make him...with utmost, hospitality."

  Bran, his expression carefully neutral, bowed his head. "As you wish, my lord."

  Both, exist, bowed once more to Valerius, and exited the chamber.

  As soon as they had left, Valerius directed at the two girls. With one of his lazy gestures, Valerius spoke to, ordered to the young woman, who attended. massaging the lower part,, his… lower. "Yes…" he hissed, almost. "There, a… girl… Yes… … … there!…. Press, a little harder!"