The Belfry of the Old Clock Tower was swarming of pigeons, moreover it had rusted a great deal over the years but still stood with grit of bearing the history it had to.

  It was a small, cramped space high above the lower districts of the Capital. Through the slatted vents, the sounds of a city in panic drifted up—sirens wailing, Mage Guards shouting orders, the distant thrum of magical barriers being erected.

  "They are searching every street," Rylus said. The Knight was pacing back and forth in the small space, his armor clinking with every turn. "We are the most wanted men in the Kingdom. You locked the Academy. You floated an Inquisitor. You have effectively declared war on the educational system."

  Elias ignored him. He was busy.

  He had arranged a wooden crate in the center of the floor. On it, he had placed the porcelain tea set he had recovered from the vault. He was currently aligning the spout of the teapot with the magnetic north.

  "He had bad posture," Elias murmured, adjusting a saucer. "I just made him more manly for his own good."

  "Sir!" Rylus stopped pacing. He looked frantic. "We are trapped in a bell tower. The Mage Guard has . If they find us..."

  "They are looking for a 'Void Demon'," Elias said dismissively. "They are not looking for two gentlemen having tea."

  He did not mention that he was, in fact, a Void Demon. Or that he had forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes because he was focusing on the tea leaves.

  Elias opened the jar of .

  The leaves were old. Three hundred years old. They were dry, brittle, and smelled of dust. But they were real.

  "Water," Elias said. "I need water."

  He picked up his waterskin. It was empty. He had used the last of it to wash the mud off Unit 74.

  "Rylus, do you have water?"

  "No," Rylus said. "I drank it all after I ate the cursed paper. Sir, we need to leave."

  Elias frowned. He couldn't use the city water. The pipes in the Capital were infused with trace amounts of mana-purification agents. It gave the water a metallic tang that would ruin the delicate profile of the tea.

  "I will acquire water," Elias decided.

  He looked out the vent. The sky was a heavy, bruised purple. Low clouds hung over the city, thick with moisture and industrial smog.

  Elias thought.

  He raised his hand. He focused on the humidity. He visualized a cup of water.

  "[Condense]," he whispered.

  He forgot to account for the weather. The Capital was built in a swamp delta. The humidity was 98%.

  He pulled.

  He didn't just fill the kettle. He pulled the moisture from a one-mile radius.

  RUMBLE.

  The air pressure in the belfry dropped so fast his ears popped.

  A cloud formed instantly inside the room. It was small, dark, and angry. It hovered directly over the crate.

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  Then, it moved.

  It drifted three feet to the left. Directly over Rylus.

  SPLASH.

  It didn't drizzle. It poured. A localized, torrential downpour erupted from the micro-cloud, drenching Rylus from head to toe in seconds.

  Rylus stood there, water streaming off his nose, while Elias sat perfectly dry three feet away.

  "Why?" Rylus asked, his voice flat. "Why is it only raining on ?"

  "Atmospheric conductivity," Elias lied. "Your armor attracts the ions. Also, you are a lightning rod for misfortune. Hold the kettle out."

  Rylus sighed. He held out the kettle. The rain filled it in seconds.

  However, to the great achievement Elias had successfully cast a normal spell for the first time since his awakening.

  The tea brewed.

  It didn't smell like flowers. It didn't smell like joy. It smelled like wet earth and ozone. It smelled like the Third Era.

  Elias poured two cups. His hands were steady.

  He sat on a dusty gear mechanism. He reached into his pocket.

  And pulled out the letter.

  The wax seal—red, stamped with the sigil of the Grand Archmage—was intact. Elias ran his thumb over it.

  He tried to break the seal.

  His fingers wouldn't work. They were numb. Not from cold, but from... hesitation.

  (f he opened it, Arion was really dead. If he kept it closed, maybe the old man was just late.

  "Sir?" Rylus asked softly.

  Elias took a breath. He couldn't open it with his hands. He didn't trust them.

  He raised a finger.

  "[Sever]."

  A microscopic blade of mana sliced the wax. The letter popped open.

  Elias unfolded the parchment. The ink was faded, but legible. Arion had terrible handwriting.

  Elias stared at the paper.

  He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He just stared at the line about the dishes.

  He remembered those dishes. It was a stack of plates from the faculty luncheon. There was oatmeal stuck to the bowls.

  Elias had complained about them. He had told Arion that soaking them was inefficient.

  Elias thought. The thought was small and sharp, like a piece of glass in his heart. ‘

  He felt a profound, crushing silence inside him. The Void was quiet, but this was quieter. This was the silence of a room that would never have voices in it again.

  A metal clank broke the silence.

  Rylus sat down on the crate opposite him. The Knight was still dripping wet. He didn't ask about the letter. He didn't ask about the plan.

  He just reached out and picked up a cup of tea.

  He took a sip.

  Rylus grimaced. His face scrunched up.

  "It is..." Rylus struggled. "...tasteless…something funny hits me too."

  "It tastes like liquid dirt," Elias said softly.

  "Yes," Rylus admitted. "It tastes like a bog. But... it is hot."

  Elias looked at the Knight. Rylus was drinking the terrible tea. He was sitting in a puddle, hunted by the law, drinking bog-water with a monster.

  "The water was too pure," Elias whispered.

  "It's fine, Sir," Rylus said. He took another sip. "It has texture."

  Elias reached for the teapot. He poured a small saucer of tea.

  He placed it on the floor.

  Unit 74, which had been hovering silently in the rafters, descended. The drone chirped. It extended a sensor and scanned the steam.

  (Analysis: 99% Dirt, 1% Leaf).

  The drone bobbed happily.

  Elias folded the letter. He did it carefully, aligning the edges. He put it in his pocket, right next to the pieces of his broken pipe.

  "Arion said not to stay in the dark," Elias said.

  Rylus looked at the window vents.

  "Then we should step into the light, Sir," Rylus said. "Or at least, into the alleyway. The guards are getting closer."

  Outside, a shout went up.

  "Captain! Look! Above the tower!"

  Elias looked out the vent.

  Directly above them, the heavy cloud cover had vanished. Elias’s spell had sucked the sky dry.

  A perfect, one-mile circle of brilliant blue sky punched through the gloom, shining a spotlight directly on the clock tower.

  "The weather anomaly!" a voice roared. "The Heretic is controlling the climate! He is in the tower!"

  BOOM.

  A signal flare exploded in the sky. Red light washed over the city.

  "We have to run," Rylus said, standing up. "Leave the tea set, Sir. It's too heavy."

  Elias looked at the porcelain cups. The teapot. The jar of leaves.

  He nodded.

  He left the tea set on the crate. He left the saucer for the drone.

  But he kept the letter.

  He touched his pocket as they ran for the trapdoor. The paper weighed nothing. It was just a scrap of old parchment.

  But as he descended into the dark, Elias thought it was the heaviest thing he carried.

  Status UpdateMana Consumed:Current Mood:Rylus Loyalty:Reputation:Inventory: