Chapter 59 — Two Lives

Chapter 59: Chapter 59 — Two Lives

Chapter 59 — Two Lives

Edwin returned to the academy carrying one crystal plate and no Mana crystals.

The plate remained wrapped inside his storage pouch beneath two ordinary books and a spare robe. The pouch hung from his belt and looked like a square leather purse, though its interior held about as much as a large chest.

Edwin had bought it secondhand after becoming a First Circle Mage. One corner had been repaired with mismatched thread, and its spatial formation rejected anything alive. It was still the most expensive personal object he owned. Most ranked mages carried something similar for reagents, books and delicate tools; better bags, rings and necklaces belonged to people with better incomes.

It could not carry an expedition, since food, tents and water for Taron’s company had still required pack animals, but it could hide one valuable sample from casual eyes.

At the western gate, an academy guard inspected his faculty token, asked whether the provincial road survey had produced anything useful and waved him through before Edwin finished answering.

"Broken markers and bad stone," Edwin said.

The guard had already turned toward the next cart.

That was the response Edwin wanted.

His mother opened the staff apartment door before he could knock, looking first at his face, then at the dust worked into his cuffs.

"Historical roads?" she asked.

"There was more stone than expected."

She suspected the answer left something out. Edwin kissed her cheek before she could decide how hard to press.

His younger sister came from the second room holding a slate. "You missed my reading."

"I know. I will hear you read it after supper."

"Master Henley says I no longer confuse river and ribbon."

"That deserves a demonstration after supper."

She accepted this and returned to her slate. His mother waited until the girl was out of the room.

"Were you in danger?"

Edwin set down his case. The truthful answer was yes; the useful answer was smaller.

"We found a magical beast near the site. Captain Taron handled it. Nobody died."

Her hand tightened around the door latch. "Nobody died is not the same as safe."

"You’re right. The work paid well, and Taron’s company will remain there for a time."

"Does that mean you are going back?"

"Not this week. I have lessons to teach."

The next morning, Edwin reported to Master Vey’s apprentice hall. Twelve students waited around a practice circle with expressions ranging from fear to boredom. Quillan stood in the second row pretending not to watch the door.

Edwin had spent several days commanding golems and helping kill a Silver-level beast. At the academy, his first task was correcting how an apprentice held a chalk compass.

"Your inner ring is too close to the focus point," he told the boy.

"Master Vey drew it that way."

Vey looked across the room. "I didn’t."

The boy erased the line.

Edwin moved to the next desk. The ordinary lesson steadied him — these circles were current, tested and taught by living mages. The war tower possessed a library larger than the academy’s oldest hall, but much of it remained sealed, damaged or written for people who had died centuries ago.

Ancient knowledge could teach him things Alvion had forgotten. It could not tell him which modern supplier sold safe alchemical glass or how current imperial law treated a failed familiar contract.

He needed both worlds.

After the lesson, Master Vey closed the door and held out a hand.

"Your field sample."

Edwin kept his expression still. "What sample?"

"You requested permission to compare mineral weathering along the western road. Either you found nothing or you brought something back."

Edwin removed an ordinary piece of dark road stone from his pocket. He had selected it before entering the city.

Vey turned it under the window light. "Basalt."

"Weathered basalt."

"A remarkable discovery."

"The road was disappointing."

Vey handed it back. "Disappointment is a common research result. Write half a page for the travel record. Do not pretend it deserves three."

Edwin left with the stone and a fresh reminder that intelligent people noticed empty hands.

He delivered the written report before noon. It described broken mile markers, washed foundations and inconsistent provincial measurements. Every statement was true; none pointed toward the dead road’s end.

The wrapped Crystalback plate went to a private practice room that evening. Edwin locked the door, placed a simple silence mark on the frame and unwrapped it beneath a lamp.

The plate was larger than his palm and slightly translucent. Pale veins trapped inside it brightened when he brought Mana close, and wind slid around the surface instead of striking it directly.

The Crystalback had absorbed loose Mana, and its hide retained part of that property after death.

Edwin recorded the response without naming the creature or location. He tested a weak spark, a thread of wind and heat from a lamp-heated metal rod. The spark spread across the plate. The wind bent. Heat passed slowly.

It could become armor, a formation component or a lining for containers holding unstable materials. He did not know which use would waste the least.

That ignorance pleased him more than it should have. It gave him a question nobody in the room could answer for him.

He wrapped the plate again before the night porter made his rounds.

Two days later, Edwin visited the mercenary company lodge near Alvion’s western market. The building smelled of oiled leather, old beer and wet wool. A clerk with a split eyebrow examined Taron’s sealed authorization twice.

"Seven family payments," the clerk said. "One year each."

"That amount is correct."

"Your survey found a silver hill?"

"My employer found that silence and dangerous work cost more than road escort."

The clerk took in Edwin’s academy robe. "You’re the employer."

"Then I have learned something useful."

The tower’s old procurement reserve had been converted by weight rather than by the faces stamped on dead kingdoms’ coins. A licensed metal dealer bought part of the silver at a discount after checking it for curses and false cores. The gold remained untouched.

Edwin left most of the payment with the lodge itself. The lodge held the money under its own seal and would distribute it to the people named in Taron’s contract.

One recipient arrived while Edwin waited for the receipts: a broad-shouldered woman with two children and a baby tied against her chest. The clerk counted silver into three separate pouches.

"Taron is alive?" she asked.

"He was uninjured when I left," Edwin said.

"And Nessa?"

"Also alive."

The woman’s shoulders loosened. She pushed one pouch back toward the clerk. "Put that against the roof debt before my husband decides it belongs in a tavern."

The clerk did so without surprise.

Edwin watched the older child touch the remaining pouch and pull his hand away quickly, half-expecting it to vanish. Paying the company had looked painful on a ledger; in the lodge, the cost became roof boards, winter food and debts that no longer waited at the door.

Killing the witnesses would have been cheaper.

The thought came without invitation. The tower possessed the strength to do it, and missing mercenaries could eventually be explained as a failed expedition. Edwin hated how easily the solution formed once he had seen the golems move.

He signed the final receipt.

The payment gave Taron’s people a reason to protect the work, and their families gained something real from the risk.

Back at the academy, Edwin resumed his schedule. He taught two mornings, copied catalogue comparisons in the Old Library and attended a First Circle control session under Vey. He failed the first attempt to maintain three wind threads around moving targets.

One thread cut a paper marker in half. Another collapsed. The third wrapped around his own wrist.

"Your control worsened outside," Vey said.

"I had fewer delicate problems."

"Then find some. Power practised only against large objects becomes clumsy."

Edwin repeated the exercise until sweat darkened the back of his robe. The war tower could crush problems with barriers and golems; away from it, Edwin was still a young First Circle Mage whose own spell could tangle around his hand.

That difference frightened him enough to be useful.

During the next Old Library session, Edwin requested current works on spatial storage. The librarian gave him three ordinary manuals and warned him that the academy did not lend construction diagrams for commercial-grade storage formations to First Circle staff.

Edwin had expected the restriction. Storage equipment looked simple only from the outside. A damaged boundary line could destroy everything inside or release it into whatever room the failure occurred in. Modern bags used powdered space crystal, layered inscription cloth and a stabilizing clasp. Dwarven metal frames were considered the most durable. Elven treated fabric held inscriptions with less Mana loss.

Human mages combined both traditions and charged heavily for the result.

Edwin compared the modern diagrams with what he remembered from the tower. The Ancient storage marks used a different geometry and appeared in the tower’s quartermaster inventory, but he had not restored the rooms where those items were kept.

He copied only general principles. Trying to reproduce a spatial formation as a First Circle Mage would be an efficient way to lose his hand and everything on the workbench.

Quillan found him returning the manuals.

"Buying a larger bag?"

"Learning why I can’t afford one."

Quillan lifted the ring on his right hand. It held less than Edwin’s pouch but had cost nearly twice as much because it could be opened with one thought. "My uncle says you buy storage once and complain about the price forever."

"Your uncle bought yours."

"That’s why I complain less."

The conversation remained on the academy, his work and his sister’s lessons. Edwin preferred it that way.

The damaged book remained on his desk each night. The tower spirit could speak through its fairy-shaped projection, but distance and low power limited it to stored messages and brief exchanges. It could not command the tower through Edwin’s academy room.

On the fourth night, pale light rose above the cover.

"Report received," the spirit said.

The projection flickered around the edges.

"From Taron?" Edwin asked.

"Relay mark activated at western station. Mine extraction continues within assigned limits. One damaged Iron unit restored to walking condition. Second unit needs replacement joint. No intrusion detected."

"Crystals extracted?"

"Seventeen low grade since departure. All retained."

The number tempted him. Seventeen crystals could open more library rooms, awaken additional golems or strengthen the outer barrier. It could also disappear in a single battle.

"Maintain the present mining limit," Edwin said. "Entrance security first. Repairs second. Do not open another library section without me."

"Instruction stored for relay."

The spirit dimmed.

"Can you protect Taron’s people if something enters the tower?"

"Current active defenses enough against assessed local threats. Adamantine reserve remains available under emergency conditions."

Edwin glanced toward the room where his mother and sister slept. The academy had wards, guards and powerful mages; it was safer than most homes in Alvion.

The tower was the home Edwin wanted for them.

Once repaired, the tower could protect his family behind barriers and golems, but its water system still failed in two wings, half the residence remained sealed, and every meal came through the entrance in a pack.

Moving his family there now would exchange a visible risk for several hidden ones.

It would also isolate Edwin from the environment that had allowed him to advance. Master Vey noticed flaws the tower spirit would record without understanding how modern mages corrected them. The academy placed Edwin beside people his own age who competed, argued and produced solutions built after the ancient wars. Its laboratories contained current instruments. Its notices carried expeditions, lectures and discoveries from across Alvion.

He closed the book.

For the time being, Edwin would remain at the academy. He needed Vey’s criticism, the current libraries, other mages and the discipline of being weak away from ancient machinery. The tower would restore quietly under Taron’s watch.

When it became fully operational, he would decide what came next.

That night, the damaged book waited on his desk.

Neither life could be neglected without weakening the other.