Chapter 28

“Wake up, Yan.”

“Mm-m, five more minutes… Schenna.”

“What do you mean, Schenna?”

The rogue’s eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring straight into Morik’s insane gaze.

“A-a-a!” the lad screamed like he was being cut open.

“A-a-a-a!” the sorcerer screamed back just as shrilly.

Yan looked around—the same cramped little room three meters underground. A crypt. Their secret hideout.

“Well, finally you’re awake, Mister Lim,” Morik remarked. “It’s already one in the afternoon. We need to prepare for the capture of TRIVERD! And you’re sleeping like the dead.”

“Really?” Yan asked in surprise, realizing that he hadn’t had any nightmares that night. More than that, he felt much better than usual. “I-I… apologize for the delay! I just slept really well.”

“Everyone’s already waiting for you at the main table to discuss our next steps,” Morik said. “Report complete!!” And with that, he left.

Yan watched him go.

“Hm, that’s true. I haven’t slept that well in a long time,” the rogue thought, remembering the previous day. That strange drinking session at The Drunken Beaver. And those four knights.

“Who the hell were they?” Yan wondered as he left the room. “And why do I feel like I’ve seen them somewhere before? Or am I imagining it? Hm, either way, we’ll probably run into each other at Triverd today. Maybe I’ll be able to learn a little more about them. As long as…”

“As long as what, Yan?” Sovt asked, suddenly appearing beside him.

The rogue stared at the knight in surprise.

Sovt rolled his eyes.

“You were talking out loud.”

“A-a-ah… I see,” Yan replied, a little embarrassed.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” the lad snapped.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Well, how do I put it…” The rogue smiled strangely. “I feel like someone charged me up. You know, like a battery?”

“I have no idea what a ‘battery’ is,” Sovt cut him off. “Come on already. You slept through half the day.”

___________________________________

It was evening. Aradeyn had sunk into darkness. Only the bright glow of its streetlamps and the hundreds of braziers burning across Triverd Academy still reminded you that before you stood the capital of the independent world of Tsagat.

Those lights, like myriads of eyes, shone through the pitch-black darkness, bringing back memories of the day that had vanished beyond the horizon. Everything had drowned in the colors of night, its outlines twisted here and there, yet it still gleamed with the same ancient grandeur and wealth.

Their company was traveling down the central street in two covered wagons. Yan drove the first, dressed not in his usual clothes, but in the outfit of a “wine deliveryman” they had borrowed from Semyu. Khad drove the second, also having squeezed himself into something halfway between a tailcoat and a laborer’s clothes.

Hidden among the barrels in the first wagon rode Zolotoros, who spent the entire trip grumbling that they were hitting every single bump in the road. Chadun and Morik were there too, though Yan hadn’t wanted to bring them at all at first, because if anyone recognized them, they’d be up to their necks in trouble. But the two insisted, saying they knew the Academy like the backs of their hands, so Yan eventually had to agree. And, of course, Sovt. As backup. By now he had recovered well enough to hold a sword properly again, and after another couple of hours he’d probably be swinging it around like in the old days.

Julius rode in the second wagon, inseparable from his brother as always. The two adepts of the Blue Paths were there too, their armor treacherously clanking almost every five minutes, though the adepts simply couldn’t do without it. And… believe it or not, Semyu was riding in the rear wagon too. With his meat cleaver. He said he wanted to exchange a few words with the local earth mages after what happened yesterday. Yan had brought him along for another reason, though. He wanted to ask the innkeeper about those strange characters from yesterday who had danced around the rogue like witches at a sabbath around a bonfire.

But Yan never got the chance.

“Turn left here. We’ll take the service bridge they use to bring everything into the Academy,” Morik told him hoarsely, sticking his nose out of a barrel.

“Logical,” Yan remarked condescendingly and turned where he had been told.

They drove along Triverd’s southern wall. Soon they saw a bridge stretching across the river and rising upward, straight toward one of the Academy’s side gates.

Absolutely colossal gates, with warm yellow light spilling through dozens of arrow slits.

The gates were open, letting through dozens of other wagons, carts, and assorted vehicles. A pair of mages in blue stood beside them.

“Sapphire Ivashtat’s mages,” Morik rasped from inside the barrel. “Keep your guard up around them. Water mages know how to talk your ear off and worm secrets out of you.”

“Hah. We’ll see who gets the better of whom,” Yan said with a predatory grin.

Their turn came. A pair of ratlike eyes fixed on the rogue, belonging to a sorcerer who looked about a hundred and four at a glance and wore a large blue hat on his head.

“Who might you be?”

“Wine delivery from The Drunken Beaver,” Yan replied and immediately shoved an official document into the mage’s hands.

The mage began studying it carefully. Then he counted the wagons and looked back at Yan.

“And you yourself… aren’t Kirk, as I can see. He usually handles deliveries from The Drunken Beaver.”

“Kirk ran into a little problem today,” Yan replied, leaning closer to the mage and whispering, “Senile pulmicyllia. He thought too much when he was young! And started aging rapidly.”

“What?” the mage mouthed. Fear immediately crept into his eyes. How much older could the poor bastard possibly get?! “I-is it contagious?”

“No,” the rogue replied quickly. “As long as you don’t think too much.”

“I-I see. Go ahead, then. Everything in the papers checks out.”

The two wagons passed beneath the stone arch, and Yan immediately realized that bringing Chadun and Morik along had been the right decision.

Before them stretched a genuine labyrinth of galleries, tiers, passageways, and buildings. Everything glowed. Mages wandered everywhere, along with various knights, and everything you looked at seemed to be making some kind of noise. Marble fountains, magical streetlamps, and all sorts of other things like that.

The towers of Ahu Library rose into the sky like spearpoints. Triverd stood before them in all its majestic beauty.

Even a frightening kind of beauty, in a way.