A new dawn, a new day, and a new session of training.

After Riza had returned to her designated cell yesterday, she spent a lot of time mulling over what had happened.

Firstly, the use of the skill; observing other magic could prove useful. At the very least, it gave her an insight into the skill being used—which she presumed to be one of the 0th tier linguistics skills but it very well could’ve been higher tier skills.

However, two skills stuck out to her and seemed to make sense.

[Linguistical Immersion] (1/10)

Greatly enhances your ability to decipher a language

Cost: 1 es/min

[Translation] (1/10)

Communicate innately in any deciphered language

Cost: 10 es/min

These skills would make sense, especially considering Belfore seemed to cast only two skills during the whole interrogation.

After the first time he traced out a pattern, he then urged Riza to talk in English about a variety of things. This would make sense if he used the first skill, using a larger and larger sample of sounds, phonemes, syntax, and what-not to gain experience with the language.

After the second spell, that was when he started actually conversing in English, which would make sense.

Why isn’t there a simple ‘translate’ skill to begin with? Seems a bit convoluted.

All of that was the surface-level analysis she could do. After that, actually observing how the skills took effect—the flow of essence, even.

For one, the most obvious thing was his use of his finger. For some reason, he traced patterns in the air.

Is that a necessity to cast spells? If so, why do I not need to do that for any of my own skills? I just need to touch something with [Cleanse] and even [Leech] is less restrictive than that.

Maybe it’s a skill in its own way?

A quick search didn’t turn up what she wanted but Riza couldn’t rule out the skill's existence that way—she may just not have described the skill adequately enough for the search system.

What she did find, however, amongst the variations she tried, was a ‘chanting’ skill tree.

Chanting

0th Tier

[Word of Brevity] (1/10)

Assign a [command word] to an active skill. Multiply the casting time by 0.98 when the [command word] is used

Cost: 1 es

[Word of Power] (1/10)

Assign a [command word] to an active skill. Multiply the intensity by 1.02 when the [command word] is used

Cost: 1 es

[Word of Time] (1/10)

Assign a [command word] to an active skill. Multiply the duration by 1.02 when the [command word] is used

Cost: 1 es

Oh? This is interesting.

But why are the bonuses so low? Even [Maximise Mastery] at its lowest level was stronger.

I suppose it must be to do with how the cost doesn’t scale with the original skill, unlike [Maximise Mastery].

Regardless, Riza had learnt something that day. In fact, she had learnt a lot of things, not to mention actually enjoying having a fully articulated and comprehensible conversation.

She hadn’t realised how much she had missed those.

For the rest of the day, she continued the same routine of exercising her body and meditating while resting, even if that skill no longer needed to be levelled up.

But the convoluted process of translating between languages you weren’t fluent in had reignited her desire to learn. She had been taking it easy lately, considering how there wasn’t someone eminently close by to talk to, but why should that stop her?

So, she added a whole slew of memory problems to tackle; words to remember, patterns in languages, and trying to instil the syntax of this new language into her mind through rote repetition.

Inferior to learning through immersion but it was the best she could do currently.

The day passed, Riza sleeping coolly in the cell. She woke up early, stretched, and got herself moving. Being productive. Something to take her mind off her situation.

And then, she had a visitor--her designated escort. What is her job here? Purely moving prisoners between buildings and guarding those buildings?

The surroundings were familiar, much as the route was, as she found herself being led through the encampment back to the trial building she had been in before.

The dense, almost suffocating atmosphere remained, as did the majority of the people inside. The key figures--those she had personally met--were all there but from a quick glance, a handful of people were different. Although, she couldn’t say exactly what had changed.

Surprisingly, Belfore--the translator from yesterday--was there as well. The chair Riza had sat in before was now pulled up to a small, round, rickety, wooden table with Belfore sitting alongside it as well.

He had some papers piled up and looked a tad bit more regal than before, though that was almost entirely in his bearing alone. His outfit had stayed the same.

Riza sat down and the large, authoritative men at the other end of the hall bellowed out the start.

“The trial is beginning,” Belfore spoke in English after a few movements of his hands.

Riza took a few seconds to respond, taking in the man’s purpose here.

So, he’s to be my translator, I guess.

The leader spoke again, his deep voice reverberating through the room. Riza paid close attention to his words, trying to connect them with those she already knew and trying to retain them as Belfore translated for her.

“You’re on trial for practising essence skills without permission granted from the Dominion of Skaldur. Additional charges brought against you consist of trying to escape from your trial and intentionally injuring a member of the Dominion.” His tone was steady, not letting any emotions seep through.

A sense of dread ran through her upon hearing those words; they were definitively true and there weren’t many ways you could construe them to get her off lightly.

Upon being called, the first witness stood up; the man from the farm who had initially rescued Riza.

“This man is Grandal. He’s a member of the village Watch, which seems to be a group of people who protect the village.” Belfore’s voice lacked confidence towards the end, suggesting a lack of familiarity with the Watch.

“He’s recounting what happened the day of the storm,” Belfore elucidated while the Grandal was talking.

He wasn’t in the same armour that Riza had seen him in; just civilian clothes, it seemed, consisting of loose, thin fabrics with nicely dyed colours. Nothing too expensive but he clearly wasn’t destitute either.

“He cleared off a small contingent of monsters with his group. The leader of them then made them ride out to a nearby farm as was customary during rainstorms.”

After that, what Belfore translated was much what Riza had already known or could guess; their initial encounter, fight at the farm, and then the cleansing.

When Grandal had gotten to the point actual magic was used, he had served his purpose, being told to sit down imperatively.

He complied without complaint.

Afterwards, more people were called to give their own accounts of things. This part of the trial seemed to be establishing the chronology of events, as Belfore put it, in that people who had met with Riza retold their encounters with her.

There were more people doing this than the last time she was here, with the archer she had brought to her knees the other day repeating what had happened in a wavering voice.

Her posture lacked confidence, her voice weak; the effect the rapid evaporation of strength from her body had had on her was still taking its toll even now, days later.

Once that woman sat down, the man uttered a very familiar word.

“Riza.”

Belfore stood up sharply, back straight, and head pointed forwards. Riza quickly matched him, her head only reaching his shoulder.

“He’s asking you to begin from the day of the storm and recount the events that have led up to now.”

It was a big question and one with multiple ways to go about it. Should she be completely honest?

I kinda have to be; afterall, everyone else has already given witness to the skills I used.

Even as she came to that understanding, she found her voice stuck in her throat, no words being uttered even as she opened her mouth.

Her tongue was dry, her body hot, and worries about what to say plagued her mind. How to begin? Where to start? What’s unnecessary information?

At this rate, everything she could possibly say would only put her in a worse position, she thought.

“Riza,” Belfore said firmly once seconds had passed. “You need to speak.”

Looking into his eyes, seeing the stern look he was giving her, she gulped down her spit and began to talk. In English.

She began with aiding the farmer in painting the fences, not explaining how she came to know him in the first place.

She emphasised her killing of two flying monsters, trying to paint it as protecting the farmer who was demonstrably worse in combat than she was, unable to land many shots with his bow.

Describing her cowardice as a tactical retreat, she elucidated over how she was saved by Grandal and how that left her with a debt that needed to be paid.

Her intentions with [Cleanse] were clarified; to reduce risk of infection and clean the wound of dirt, mud, and whatever else. Once she touched upon that facet, however, a strike of worry shot through her mind, causing her to drop that line of reasoning and tying it up quickly.

Not mentioning the use of [Cleanse] on Argand, she explained her attempted escape through the lens of ignorance and fear. Not knowing what was happening and taken captive, she feared for the worst and was willing to take her chances.

Finally, the attack on the archer. This, she painted in self-defence. Unsure of possible cultural differences, she exposited about how raising your hands was a sign of surrender and once she was attacked, she felt that her life was threatened.

Her use of [Leech] wasn’t to kill but, rather, to [Heal] herself. That’s why she ran away rather than ending the woman’s life.

Belfore helpfully translated what she was saying. All she could do was hope in that he was accurately portraying her messages.

Afterwards, a few questions were asked, prompting to clarify previously murky statements, such as ‘How did you meet the farmer?’

Once Riza felt she had been put through the proverbial wringer, she could finally sit down, legs aching to get moving, her body antsy. Her mind was nowhere near getting out of this scot-free; any thought of defending herself was dismissed as quick as it arrived, too nonsensical to parse in the first place.

The room descended into a silence upon a single word by the man.

Sat at his desk, he clasped his hands together in front of him and closed his eyes, his visage both strong but calm.

No one dared to mutter a word; not even Belfore deigned to enlighten Riza as to what was happening. The observers sitting on the benches watched on, Riza fidgeting in her seat uncomfortably.

After what felt like many minutes, the might man’s eyes blinked open, his gaze strong and piercing. He stared straight at Riza, making eye contact and eventually forcing her to look away, before talking again.

“Arbitrar Fredern has come to a decision,” Belfore translated for her, taking care to speak between breaths so as to not interrupt the man.

“According to the laws of the Dominion, and the power granted upon him as Arbitrar, he waives away all charges excluding that of practising magic without permission and practising magic of the life aspect.” His tone was firm, voice more regal than at any other point during the trial.

“As such, the punishment that will be doled out upon you will be induction into the Dominion. You will be given the lowest rank of Neophyte and will be under the jurisdiction of Head Steward Andreya, Domain Five.”

With the trial now concluded—statements taken and a decision having been made—Riza found herself once more escorted out of the building and walking down the street.

She was somewhat in disbelief; the trial was so different than she imagined. No discussion, no conversing amongst a jury; the people who didn't talk merely acted as witnesses to the hearing and the arbitrar had unilateral authority to decide her fate, it seemed.

And then, to get off so lightly? She nearly killed a person and she was being given a job as penance? That couldn't be right. A mistranslation?

But thinking about it wouldn't help. Better to ease her mind and just focus on the present.

Interestingly, Belfore was accompanying her this time. She tried to pry out his thoughts on the situation but, when she spoke quickly and excitedly, all he said was:

“No talk,” using an accent different from the one he usually used when speaking English.

Why doesn’t he want to talk? Maybe he’s no longer using the skill? Saving on essence; seems likely.

Nostalgically, Riza got to experience familiar surroundings—pastures of a greener time. The buildings she passed were those she first saw before being imprisoned and their destination was even one she had been to before.

In fact, this was the first place she had thoughts of escape. Ahh, memories.

Partially rebuilt, with large swathes of canvas hanging all over the place, there seemed to be some renovation being done, no matter how amateur.

The blacksmith was rather small and dusty on the inside. Although actual blacksmithing had stopped, the assortment of cold weapons, armour, and other useful items remained.

The first room was cramped, with a large counter taking up the majority of the space. Behind it stood a startling short man—barely taller than Riza—and behind him were an assortment of goods and containers. Presumably a quartermaster of some kind.

The woman offered a few words to him before telling Riza to go inside a side room. Belfore reinforced that statement, following her in, while the escort waited outside.

The old, wooden floorboards creaked under step, the table lacklustre and the seating uncomfortable. At one end sat a blinded old man, very grey beard, bald, and wrinkled face. Most interesting was the band of cloth wrapped around his eyes, obscuring vision of the world.

As soon as Riza stepped into the room, she felt herself drawn to him. There was something magnetic—something unlike anything she had encountered before.

Once she had settled down, Belfore stood behind her, hands on the back of the chair, his presence obvious and constant.

“Hello,” The man greeted, voice surprisingly high and energetic. “I am something Greymane and will be the one something you for something into the Dominion.” The final word was one she had picked up recently.

“Hello,” Riza replied cordially, not sure what else to say.

“Firstly, we need to know what your level is.”

My level? But Belfore already asked me that.

“Why?” She asked incredulously.

“This is what every, new, something goes through. We need the something so we can give you a something that best something you.”

She forsaw this conversation becoming more and more difficult as time went by. Reluctantly, Riza craned her neck to give an expectant look towards Belfore.

“They need this information to know what your job will be,” Came his [Translation] shortly after.

“But you already asked me this question,” She responded, slightly mopey.

“You may have lied to me.” He answered laconically, like that was a good enough reason by itself.

She returned her gaze to Greyman. I’ve already told them of my level.

“Level 7.”

“Good, good,” Greymane praised, a smile on his face and pausing talking for a few seconds before resuming as if nothing happened. “Next, we need to know your stats.”

Uncomfortable territory here; they’d know just how easy Riza was to kill.

Pondering whether to answer truthfully, she began to question the interface, looking for a skill.

First impulse was a lie detection skill, based upon what Belfore told her.

Lo-and-behold, one existed.

Psyche

0th Tier

[Message] (1/10)

Telepathically send a [Message] to someone of up to 20 words. They can send a [Message] back.

10m range

Cost: 5 es

[Detect Truth] (1/10)

Enhance your ability to detect truths

Cost: 1 es/sec

[Message]? So, telepathy exists in this world, though it doesn’t seem to have a very far range. Something to think about later.

“10 power,” Riza offered.

Immediately, the smile fell from Greymane’s face, his warm eyes turned cool. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Something,” His resonant voice rang out.

“That was a lie.” Belfore translated.

“5 power.” A smile, this time, along with a nod of the head.

“Continue,” Belfore urged.

“5 constitution. 5 endurance. 6 vim. 14 essence-“ That value caused an eyebrow to raise.

Riza took a breath, understanding just how large the gap between her spirit was with the rest of her stats. “-150 spirit.”

That, much to her surprise, received less of a reaction than she would’ve thought, though both of them clearly wanted a modicum of clarification of some kind.

“Do you have any stat points you haven’t allocated?” Belfore asked unprompted.

“No.”

“What boon did you take?” Greymane eagerly asked.

What the hell. Maybe I can get some information out of them.

“[Lone Wolf].”

Realisation suddenly set into Greymane's face as his eyes looked off to the side, lost in his own head.

“That’s… an unusual choice,” Belfore said, coming to terms with it. “Disconcerting, as well,” He spoke under his breath.

“Which skills do you have?” Greymane asked, quickly composing himself.

“Why is [Lone Wolf] disconcerting?” Riza asked, completely ignoring the question while looking at Belfore.

“It’s not a boon the Dominion ever recommends taking. It’s useless when you’re in a party.” The implication was clear.

“Leech, cleanse, [Maximise Mastery], [Essence Transformer], [Well of Essence], and [Well of Spirit].” Riza answered in English, not even bothering to try to figure them out in their native tongue.

It seemed to work as Belfore translated them easily enough.

“Not [Heal]?” He asked curiously.

“Didn’t [Heal] as much as [Leech].”

“It does at level 10.”

It does scale differently! Not that it matters much, anyway. Skills are a precious commodity and one that both heals and damages for only one skill point is very economical.

“What’s your level cap?” Belfore translated the next question.

“Level 8.”

That seemed to be the end of the questioning. Greyman paused, staring off into space and completely ignoring Riza. Belfore didn’t fill the silence with talking, either.

Probably talking to someone, I’d guess. Passing on my details. Have they never heard of client confidentiality before?

After a few minutes, Greymane spoke again.

“You’ll be taken to a holding room. Your duties will be explained later—probably tomorrow.” Belfore said.

Her interrogation was finished, her escort still waiting outside.

Just like Belfore said, she was taken back to the room she had first arrived in—an improvement to her cell and at least there was some level of security garnered from familiar surroundings.

Sadly, Lefie was nowhere to be seen. Even Argand, a familiar face, wasn’t around. She was all alone.

Flopping down on the bed, hearing the wooden frame groan beneath her, she felt utterly exhausted from the day's events.

A tense trial followed by an uncomfortably in-depth appraisal. She felt like stock rather than a human.

A laugh escaped her mouth as memories came to the forefront of her mind.

I guess it never changes, does it. I’m never good enough.