Jonah looked over Centralis from the top of Loryan’s Gift. She was a near holy figure of the human kingdoms, a Sovereign that unified the continent against a runaway Primal 2,000 years ago. Her statue had been erected as a symbol of peace, unity, and hope. Next to her, the statue of Kleid, god of wisdom and war, symbolized the core Ideal of Centralis. To cultivate wisdom, so the Lineans believed, one must fight a war with themselves, their enemies, and their allies. Victory meant reaching the center of all things, thus achieving true wisdom.

How the war was fought, of course, was up to you. Centralis’ architect fought with conquest. Self-discipline to conquer one’s desires, war to conquer enemies, and intimidation to conquer allies. Ede Alonse aligned closer to Loryan, choosing neutrality, education, and the pursuit of unity. When he could.

“When I arrived, this was one of the first spots I visited,” Pomark said, walking up behind her.

“I’ve seen the painting,” Jonah said.

“Not my best,” he said. “With Centralis, you need to be closer to the harbor, looking back at the streets, Loryan and Kleid facing you. Man and god as equals. And everyone in the streets striving to reach them.”

“I don’t think most people are that ambitious.”

“Wrong,” Pomark said. “Most are ambitious enough to strive for their desired life. For Loryan, that was Sovereignty. For a culinary student, their own restaurant. The same ambition on different scales, but the same nonetheless.”

“Drastically different scales,” Jonah muttered and rolled her eyes. Elves. “Culinary student was the first thing you thought of?”

Pomark smiled. “I was just talking to one in the hall. Nice young man.”

“Did Ede Alonse tell you to come up here? Something to give me?” Jonah asked, turning toward him.

“No, I’m here on my own accord.”

Jonah frowned. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“You leave a subtle but unique impression in the currents.

Jonah snorted. “I don’t even notice if I’m messing with them anymore. That’s bad, right?”

“Only if you’re hiding”

“Guess so,” she said. “Well, what you got for me?”

“If my simulacrum dies, I receive their memories. That includes requests for help.”

Jonah raised a brow. “Want to send a helper? Think I’ll need it?”

“We both know you aren’t invincible.” He turned to face Kor, who was just coming up to meet them. “It’s been too long, Kor. How are you?”

“Fine.” Kor eyed him. “Don’t tell me you’re coming along.”

“We were just discussing it,” Jonah said.

“Not happening,” Kor said. “You could’ve told me he’d be here.”

“It was a surprise for me too,” Jonah said.

“You’ll get to kill me if something goes wrong,” Pomark said to Kor with a smile.

“I don’t hate you that much. And if I want to send a message,” Kor withdrew a notebook from his pocket, “Marcie has me covered.”

“Let’s just hope she isn’t studying a new plant when you’re about to die,” Jonah said.

Kor was about to retort but stopped.

“But really, Pomark, we should be fine,” Jonah said.

“I dearly hope so. But still, to make the journey a bit easier…” He raised his hand, revealing a silver bracelet with a single ruby dangling from it. He held it toward Jonah. “I packed a few meals for you two. I used it often in my travels, but I have no use for it now. It keeps everything inside warm and fresh.”

“Which palace did you sell for that?” Kor asked.

“Please. It was payment for one of my earlier works.”

Jonah gratefully accepted it. “Thank you. I promise to return it.”

Pomark smiled. “I know you will. And Kor, one last word.”

He raised a brow.

“Sidrick is a bright young man. If you give him a chance, I’m sure you’ll enjoy teaching him.”

“Well I owe him the chance, at least. Beyond that?” Kor shrugged.

“You’re acting like an ass,” Jonah said.

“Can you blame me?” Kor gestured to Pomark.

Pomark laughed. “I’ll be on my way then. Safe travels.”

“Thanks again,” Jonah said.

“Yes. Thank you. For the meal bracelet,” Kor said.

Pomark winked at him before dispersing into fog.

“I hate that spell,” Kor hissed.

“Why?”

“It’s just… When you see it with soul magic…” Kor groaned. “Forget it. Why did you want to meet early?”

“I need to make sure we’re on the same page,” Jonah said. “Whatever mess Sidrick is in, I’m saving him from it. I don’t care who gets hurt or who gets pissed. Olivant’s fucking with the independents, so we’re checking them out along the way. He might have handed Sidrick to one of them.”

“Not happening.”

Jonah was about to reply when Kor continued, “You’re mad. You want to kill someone. Or throw your weight around just to see what happens. I understand that. I’m telling you to nip it in the bud. We’re going to Northwatch and we’re not stopping anywhere along the way. Do you know what’s happening in Helnia?”

“No. Renya would tell me if anything serious was going on.”

“Renya isn’t as well connected as I am.” Kor held up three fingers. “Three dead arches in the last ten years. Two kept under wraps.”

Jonah frowned deeply. Archmages didn’t die of anything but incredible old age, serious firepower, or immensely potent poison. And almost never more than one in a decade.

“The independent cities have slowly lost their arches over the last 20 years. No new prodigies or top talents in that time. Some other parties have started to notice,” Kor said. “Once we started looking, we found a downward trend in powerful mages everywhere except where Sovereigns are. Now, how do you think that looks to the independents?”

Jonah took a deep breath. “Why wasn’t I told any of this?”

“You requested several times to be excluded from strategy meetings.”

She sighed. Why was there always something? Couldn’t the world just… pause when she looked away?

Excuses, she thought. She’d been treating Centralis like a vacation. Acting dumber, more crass. Feeling more bright and happy than she deserved. She needed to act more like the woman who wandered into Northwatch.

“Even if they wanted to help, nobody would risk drawing Olivant’s eye. Not while they have no protection. Some governments might even think our arrival is an elaborate scheme.”

“I know how politics work.”

“For what it’s worth… I’m sorry for bringing him here,” Kor said, ignoring her remark. “I got complacent.”

“It’s… fine.” Jonah sighed. “Olivant has a talent for ending up in the right place at the right time. At this point, I’m ready to just say he’s the universe’s favorite bastard.” She stared out at Centralis. “I have a feeling that the view’s gonna change when I get back.”

“What do you mean?”

“For travelers, there’s always an out. Hop to a new world and your problems magically disappear. We all get that itch if we feel the winds start to change. Right now? That part of me is begging me to back down.”

Kor looked out at Centralis. “I’m going to have one last meal with Marcie before we go.”

Jonah nodded. She gazed at the city as Kor left. “One last thing.”

“What is it?”

“How many travelers have come here in the last 20 years?"

#

When the sniper returned, Sidrick was down to half a quarter of his reservoir. He had managed to help a good number of Chosen, with most surprisingly accepting his offer. After the tree healer had accepted help, tension seemed to ease slightly.

It all returned once she came back.

She hunched as she walked toward Sidrick, as if trying to hide herself. None of the Chosen approached her, at least. They were saving their rage for the next round.

“Second and third place will follow. Then all will be allowed into the collection at once,” Jiet Hof said from above. Sidrick couldn’t tell if it was a recording or not.

The sniper came up next to him just as another Chosen was teleported out of the room.

That should’ve been me, Sidrick thought. He had expected it, but still, getting nothing but scars and grudges from the March stung.

“I’m Lilin. Of House Ulp,” the sniper said as she awkwardly extended a hand.

“I’m not interested,” Sidrick said. Associating with her would just land him in deeper trouble.

“I… understand,” she said. She backed away but still stayed close, her gaze dancing around the room. Even as he moved away to help someone else, she stuck close behind him.

The Chosen glanced at her before shaking their head. The next one too.

Sidrick frowned. What would it take for them to realize they weren’t friends? Would he need to fight her? He rubbed his neck.

With a sigh, he turned to Lilin. “Sidrick Caelum.”

He liked to imagine a slight smile under her mask. “I’m glad to learn your name. But I don’t recognize your House.”

“You wouldn’t. It’s very exclusive.”

The second place Chosen reappeared, a long iron staff in his hand. The metal seemed to squirm if you looked at it too long.

Another Chosen disappeared seconds later.

“I’m guessing you picked something much better, considering you were there more than twice as long,” Sidrick said to Lilin.

“Well, it isn’t of immediate use…”

“Nevermind. Do you know what the next trial is?”

“No, only the March happens every time.” She paused and gave Sidrick a look. “Everyone knows that.”

“I’ve only been around for a month. Haven’t had time to learn the culture,” Sidrick said flatly.

“But you have a Mask.”

Sidrick stared blankly at her.

“No, I mean, but you—“

Lilin was cut off by another bell chime as the third Chosen returned. He quickly backed off to the wall. Another chime emptied the room, save for Sidrick, Lilin, and two others. The newly returned one was holding a small wooden box. Its wavy green patterns stood out beautifully on the dark wood.

Something hit the floor on Sidrick’s left. He turned to see… Hm.

Oswin. Lying on his face.

Sidrick wished he could take a photo.

He seriously considered kicking him in the face as he strode over. Seeing that the poor lizard looked like he was about to vomit, however, he rolled his eyes and offered a hand.

Oswin groaned and took it.

“Didn’t you escape?” Sidrick asked as he pulled him up.

“Yes.” Oswin didn’t bother explaining. Or maybe he couldn’t. “But I promised you safety. And so,” he gestured around, “here I am.”

Sidrick paused.

“Didn’t expect me to follow through?”

“No. Well. Not after what I did,” Sidrick said. “Thank you.”

“You have a Sjur helping you?” Lilin asked with a hushed tone as she moved closer to Oswin. “Can they get us out? If they can help at all—“

“Shut your mouth, little Ulp. The Arches can’t interfere but they can still hear if they wish,” Oswin hissed. “And no, we need another way to leave.”

Lilin deflated.

“Sjur?” Sidrick asked.

Lilin stared.

“Good with space magic,” Oswin said. He looked at Lilin.

“Lilin,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes. “You owe us a life debt—“

“She’s helped already,” Sidrick said, raising his hand, now marbled with imitation scale.

Oswin’s brow furrowed. “That is not helping.”

Just as Sidrick was about to retort, a few Chosen reappeared. Their eyes widened when they noticed Oswin.

“Let’s get away from the center,” Lilin suggested.

They wordlessly moved to the wall as more Chosen trickled in.

“Sidrick,” Oswin said. He materialized a leather holster out of thin air. “For your grimoire.”

Sidrick gladly took it and tightened it around his waist. The holster expanded to perfectly fit Cyrina, finally freeing his hand.

“It’s a loan,” Oswin said.

“I figured. Still, thank you,” Sidrick said.

“Here,” Lilin said, holding out a beige, button-up sweater. “Your shirt is half shredded.”

Sidrick gratefully took it. It was too small to button up, but as a makeshift coat? It worked. Wait, how was she seeing how he looked?

“You look homeless,” Oswin said.

“You dress in halfway bathrobes,” Sidrick said.

Lilin stifled a laugh.

“What are the odds the next event is a team fight?” Sidrick asked. Just as he finished, something tugged him into an endless hall of artifacts, grimoires, and god-knows-what. The shelves were made of a green, illusory material that he could only describe as solid fog.

He swore under his breath as he looked around. The ghosts of distant Chosen picked out items or walked down their own rows. Their forms were indistinct, more silhouettes than anything.

Looking at some of the items, Sidrick’s expression turned serious. Books on soul magic, a spellcasting grimoire much more impressive looking than Cyrina, even a captured mind spirit—by the bottle’s label—that could help him with space magic. All, presumably, for him to choose from. It was too good to be true.

Out of curiosity, he looked for an item that could send a message to Centralis. He didn’t find one. Was it against some rule to give the Chosen a line to the outside world? Or maybe a communication item was just unworthy of being here.

“I’m not taking anything,” Sidrick said to whoever was surely listening. Participating in the trial was a mistake. Owing the Arches, or whoever organized this, wouldn’t help him out of this mess.

The shelves creaked and warped as they were swallowed by an invisible fog. The hall shrunk to the size of a small bedroom as it refined its inventory. Sidrick frowned deeply. It was hard to keep his heart steady. The grimoires were especially enticing. Some of them were written by archmages, even, with a seal of personal mana on the cover as proof. Still, he couldn’t take them.

He was about to refuse again when his eyes caught on a thin book sandwiched between much more impressive tomes. He recognized the seal at the top of its spine. His mother had owned two books with the same mark. She had often referenced them when researching the Ethereal.

How did a Yenorihan book end up here? A traveller from his home? Or was it just someone selling books as they toured around the Ethereal?

Sidrick’s heart drummed. If someone else from Yenoriha had traveled here… If that book could tell him how to use Linean magic…

He clenched his teeth and reached for it.

Pulling the book out, he realized it was somewhat ragged. It had seen the world alongside whoever held it last, with its yellowed, frayed pages and scratched leather cover. Before he could even read the title, he was pulled away and placed back right where he came from.

"A book of all things?” Oswin asked as he glanced over.

Lilin peeked over too.

Sidrick frowned as he read the title.

Menastel’s Guide to Avoiding Fate.

End of Part One