Chapter 7

“So, where are you lot from, anyway?” Morik asked cheerfully, flooring the accelerator so hard that the wind whistled in their ears.

“From the world of Kever, in the Third Weave,” Yan replied. “Ever heard of the kingdom of Veradia, ruled by Queen Illida? That’s exactly where we’re from.”

“Really, slap-dash?” Chadun asked suspiciously, looking at the marvelous foursome now sitting in their back seat.

Lekh and Mekh nodded in unison.

“And you came all the way to Tsagat?” the mage continued grumbling. “Just to visit the local magical library? There are thousands of those in any backwater little world.”

“Well, ha-ha, of course not, Chadun!” Morik interrupted his companion, glancing out the window and checking the mirror. “They must have come to watch the tournament that’ll be held in Aradeyn very soon. There’ll be mages from all the neighboring worlds, even representatives of the Empires!”

“Right! Exactly! Of course!” Yan quickly agreed. “We’re magic scholars, after all. It’s our job! To be wherever there’s magic!”

“Pah, slap-dash.” Chadun folded his arms and spat straight into the cabin again.

“Your kind companion doesn’t seem particularly fond of us, Mr. Morik,” Sovt rasped weakly from the back seat.

“Oh, nonsense, don’t pay him any mind!” the sorcerer in the hat replied, swerving around a bump in the road like a real racer—with a sharp turn. “It’s just that Mr. Lim looks very much like someone rather… unusual. That’s why my friend is getting worked up. Don’t worry, Chadun, it’s not him!”

“Yeah, slap-dash, of course it isn’t,” the bald mage replied dryly, spitting between his own feet.

“May I… ask what you’re talking about?” Sovt asked with curiosity. “Who does Yan look like?.. I mean, ahem, Lim?”

“Ah, it’s an old sorcerers’ horror story, ha-ha-ha!” Morik laughed in such a voice that goosebumps ran across the knights of the Blue Paths.

Madmen.

They were being driven by two mad mages.

“Tell me, Mr. Knight, have you ever heard of Magekrad?”

“The ancient kingdom of anti-mages?” Sovt asked in surprise, glancing sideways at Yan.

The rogue merely shrugged in bewilderment, only confirming the knight’s theory that these mages were not entirely right in the head.

“Well, I’ve heard of it. Why?” Sovt asked. “But wasn’t that kingdom destroyed almost a hundred years ago?”

“Ha-ha, true, true,” Morik agreed. “And yet mages across all worlds still piss boiling water at the mere mention of it.” The mage fell silent for a moment, staring straight into the emptiness ahead of him. “Yeah… things like that happen. Anyway, Mr. Lim looks very much like one extremely famous anti-mage from that kingdom. One who did in quite a few sorcerers in his day, ha-ha!”

The sorcerer turned around toward the four of them, completely ceasing to watch the road.

“But don’t worry. Mr. Lim certainly looks like him, but there’s one very important difference! Everyone knows Viktor Irre Faraday had red eyes! Your companion’s are green.”

“Slap-dash, maybe he put in colored lenses, huh?” Chadun spoke up again. “Didn’t think of that, you sieve-headed idiot?”

“I did,” Morik replied. “But in that case, I’ve got one more ironclad argument, Chadun! Know what it is?”

The mage turned toward his companion, continuing to drive the wagon completely at random.

“And what would that be?” Chadun asked suspiciously, folding his arms in front of himself and preparing to spit straight into his companion’s face.

“We’re still alive!! Ha-ha-ha!” the mage replied cheerfully and finally turned back toward the road, swerving away from a direct collision with a boulder at the very last fraction of a second.

Chadun choked on his own spit.

Lekh and Mekh nodded knowingly, while Sovt rolled his eyes, conceding defeat.

Viktor Irre Faraday was one hell of a character. Even the Order of the Blue Paths knew about him, and there was probably no place in all of Existence where no one had heard that name at least in passing—much less the name “Magekrad.”

Of course, it had all happened long ago and was probably untrue. Legends, after all.

And yet many mages—even those from such powerful and influential states as the Spectre Empire, Encantaria, Thousandworld, and others—regarded Viktor as an extremely dangerous anti-mage.

They said he could take down more than a hundred sorcerers with his bare hands while they hurled fireballs and lightning at him.

“This rogue—Viktor Faraday?” Sovt thought to himself, looking the skinny Yan up and down. “Yeah, right. Then I’m a firebird. And Lekh and Mekh are my chicks.”

“BOO-BOO!!! WE’RE HERE!!!” Morik suddenly shouted excitedly, pointing somewhere ahead.

Everyone pressed themselves against the wagon’s windshield in total curiosity.

Flat steppes stretched out ahead.

Between them lay rivers and lakes, pressing closely against the walls of a large gray city. At its farthest end stood Triverd Academy, towering over everything like the countenance of a deity.

Tall towers. Sharp spires that looked like needles from this distance. Sheer galleries, white walls, and golden roofs.