Isyd reeled into action. Sharpened by years of experience, his mind immediately split into two. The first half assessed the situation at hand and thought about a solution on the fly. The second half let the Idpulse take over: it gathered the Grace and executed the [Spells] at the same time Isyd came up with them.

Isyd stretched his gloved hand. To prevent the door from moving inward, he called forth a wall of Wind that slammed it down. From the tip of his finger, greying lights executed the necessary Command, too fast for the naked eye to see, and the wooden door creaked due to the added pressure. On the other side, they could hear someone struggling against the handle and putting their weight against it to make it budge.

The [Wind Wall] was however only a temporary measure, it was dwindling already. Isyd had to stop the person from entering at all, at least until he got out of here. Isyd’s focus switched to the keyhole. Something to clog it and prevent the door to be unlocked... Isyd pointed at the keyhole and quickly cast [Ice] inside of it and around the handle. Finally, for good measure, he aimed a new [Wind Wall] to replace the first one.

“Goddammit! That blasted door is jammed!” said the voice from the outside.

“How come? We came here yesterday and it was fine,” another voice said.

“How would I know? Something must have gotten into the keyhole, I can’t put the key in! Here, try.”

As Isyd was putting the room back as he had found it, he overheard them struggling two minutes more, before they finally gave up and decided to come back tomorrow to see with the light of the day what was wrong. Isyd let a sigh of relief as he heard them retreating down the stairs. His ice had held. He hadn’t been confident it would since he had cast the [Spell] in such a hurry, not caring for Balance, Concentration or Visualization.

“I’m sorry, Isyd,” Naeht said. “I should have seen them approaching...”

“Don’t mention it, Naeht! I should also have felt them coming sooner. I guess it’ll teach us not to get distracted.”

“What do we do now?”

“We go back to the Academy. We got what we came here for, after all.”

He held the Whitewater Staff in his hand and went out by the window.

They still had half an hour to get back to the Academy before its doors closed and they were forced to spend the night outside. Isyd readjusted his cloak over his shoulders and began walking.

“You know, Isyd, I really thought that the Whitewater Staff would be more... impressive,” Naeht drawled. “It just looks like any other staff, to be honest.”

“That’s because it is like any other staff. It’s a palcat meant for the palcaty, which is a traditional stick fighting sport. People would often use palcat when training for swordfights.”

“Then what’s so special about it if it’s just a training tool?”

Isyd seemed to think about it for a second. “Mainly two things I would say. The first is that this palcat was in fact modified into an [Arcane] of high level; I'll show you later the [Spells] carved on its surface. That is some impressive work and to this day, I’m not sure why and how someone managed to do it. The second thing is the material the palcat is made of. It’s not any type of wood.”

“The colour is beautiful, I’ll give you that...”

Isyd rolled his eyes. “It’s resswood! It’s a rare kind of tree only found on cliffs far in the East. The ochre colour comes from the iron present in the ground that the tree absorbs as it grows. The iron makes resswood the strongest wood there is, and one of the most expensive as well.”

“If it’s so precious, how come it ended up in that attic?”

“It is broken. I guess the previous owner did not know what to do with it...”

Naeht let out an afflicted sigh. “I was so looking forward to seeing the Whitewater Staff in action...”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll find a way to repair it soon enough.”

“It should be easy since you already did once in Old Ziemia, no?”

“Well... to be totally honest with you, I'm not the one who repaired my palcat back then. You have to understand I was fourteen when I received it. At that time, I didn’t even know it was an [Arcane] or that it was broken, to begin with. It’s only years after the War that a Great Artyst from the Capital fixed it for me.”

“And you think you could fix it now on your own?”

Isyd shrugged. “It shouldn’t really be difficult, I think. Surely, we’ll find something about it in the Library.”

As they talked, they walked back to the Academy. The bells had chimed the 21st Hour some time ago already, and Isyd was half worried to have the doors closed in front of him. Spending the night in the streets of Vilriver wasn’t something to look forward to, as Isyd knew first-hand. Thankfully, they made it in the nick of time and entered the Academy by the Western Gate instead of the Southern Gate through which they had left. The Southern Gate was the main entrance to the Academy; it was where the entrance examination had taken place and it led immediately to the Great Hall. The Western Gate on the other hand was more discrete. It opened on the Fields and led back through a long, sinuous path to the Hall.

Isyd had learned on his first week here that the Fields was the name given by the Pupils to the large extent of lands that surrounded the Academy. Despite what the name suggested, the Fields were not simply hectares of empty, flat lands, but instead, they were home to all the outdoors activities such as horse riding, sports competitions and duels. For that matter, a significant part of the Fields was actually wooded. The Fields was a place where the Pupils were free to wander, relax and practice the Arts without worrying about breaking anything. Indeed, Isyd had noticed that most of the Academy was protected by Wards, a specific kind of protective [Arcanes], to prevent accidents to occur within the school walls. The Library, for instance, counted a dozen of [Arcanes] on its first floor that were set up to detect and snuff out any beginning of a fire. The Wards were activated when too much Grace was dangerously concentrated at one place, which was often a sign of a [Spell] that had gone wrong.

Isyd and Naeht were trotting up the incline on one of the isolated paths across the Fields to the Academy. Isyd intended to go to the Thermae before resuming some reading he had left off. Suddenly, his senses perked up as he walked around a corner. Someone was using the Arts.

A few paces off from the dirt path, a young woman stood rigidly, eyes closed and palms opened in front of her. She was wearing the Academic uniform, her long, sandy hair was tied and she seemed to be in intense concentration. Surprisingly, chunks of broken ice laid all around her, and Isyd soon understood why. A bluish light sparked at the end of the Pupils and she began to draw a [Spell] in the air: Water Essence, [STORE], [SHAPE], [SUBSTRACT], Fire Essence, another [SHAPE] and finally a [RELEASE].

Isyd immediately guessed what kind of [Spell] the girl was casting and wasn’t surprised to see her mutter the words [Ice Spear] as the ice formed out of thin air. The ice was cloudy and thick in diameter, looking less like an actual spear and more like a log. The surface was rough and presented cracks from which water seeped out. The ice crashed to the ground in a violent CRACK and Isyd saw the girl’s shoulders slump.

He turned as he felt someone emerging from the shades. He recognized the young man by his striking appearance: curly, white-blond hair and skin paler than most.

“Grace.” he saluted.

“Grace,” Isyd returned. He expected the man to continue on his way, but instead, he remained where he stood, two paces from Isyd, observing the woman Pupil trying to cast a new [Ice Spear].

“You know, she’s been doing this for one week now,” he suddenly said. His voice was soft and without inflexions. “It had seemed so easy when you and Olav Kazkan had done it in front of the class...”

“We were lucky,” Isyd said noncommittally.

“Luck? It seemed to me it was more like skill. Your name is Isyd Wybrany, right? People think that you are a noble like Olav Kazkan, only from a foreign land.”

“Are you asking me if it is true?”

The youth shrugged, not meeting his gaze. Isyd barely stopped himself from smiling.

“I’m no noble,” he said. “I come from a village near Hojny, two weeks of travel south from Vilriver.”

This wasn’t entirely a lie; it was truly where Isyd was from. The fact that he hadn’t been back there for several decades, wasn’t something he cared to mention now.

“So, you’re not the lost son of a duke from the East or retainer of the Emperor at the West?”

“I am afraid I’m not. Wish I was, it would make many things easier... Sorry to disappoint the rumour.”

“A pity.” The boy let the silence stretch for a few seconds. “By the way, my name is Kewin Udachur, 1st Year and 1st Opening. I would have introduced myself earlier, but I never get the chance to see you.”

“I spend a lot of time in the Library.”

“So I have heard today. Is it also where you sleep? I know that we share the same Dorm but I never saw you use your bed.”

Isyd gave the young man a curious look, trying to guess the intentions behind the interrogation. The boy seemed genuinely curious, but his shyness carried on in the evasive way he asked the questions.

“I don’t need much sleep. I’m an early riser, that’s all.”

Kewin did not seem convinced, but Isyd didn’t really care enough to come up with a better lie. “I see...”

They turned back their attention to the young woman. She had still not noticed them observing her, a testimony of how concentrated she was. Her attempt this time was slightly more successful: the ice was correctly shaped and resembled more a spear than a trunk. Unfortunately, it still presented many defects, too many to be considered a proper [Spell].

“Her name is Jadwia and she is also in our class with Tutor Milwyk. She’s really dedicated. Every night, she’d find somewhere out of the way here in the Fields and practice what Tutor showed us.” Kewin suddenly stopped and colour rose to his face when he realized how he sounded. “I’m not stalking her or anything, I swear! I’m just… I just come down here often also to practice and I often see her! I don’t want to bother her… or anyone for that matter…”

Isyd and Naeht exchanged a look and Isyd smirked. The young man looked like a nice guy if only a bit awkward at times. “I see… Well, it was nice meeting you, Kewin Udachur, but I think I’m gonna go. Keep up the good work.”

Kewin mumbled a goodbye and Isyd resumed his walk towards the Thermae. Apart from the Library, it was probably his favourite place in the Academy. The Thermae was a complex of baths free to use for all Pupils and Tutors. At this time of the day, Isyd hoped he would find them empty, or at least near enough to allow him to relax.

The Thermae housed several thermal baths to offer a large number of choices. Depending on the mood or the need, one could decide to relax in the warmth of the indoor pools heated by impressive heating [Arcanes] or instead, soak in mineral waters pumped from a nearby spring. There were swimming pools as well as saunas and cold chambers. It was even possible to hire the services of a masseur at certain times of the day. Pupils were invited to enjoy the services of the Thermae in a conscious effort for hygiene and social mingling.

Going to the thermal baths had rapidly become a habit for Isyd, though usually, he went there after having exercised to wash off the sweat and relax his sore muscles. He didn’t have the money to rent a private bath, so he had to contend with the public pool. That was the reason why he showed up only later after sunset, sometimes as late — or early depending on the perspective — as the 2nd or 3rd Hour.

He entered the building with its white columns of marble and mosaic tiles and quickly undressed in the cloakroom, making sure that there were no one around. He could overhear the noise of people already in the baths, but they were few and the bath was vast enough for them not to notice him as he entered. Isyd had estimated that the public pool could welcome 200 000 persons at once and there would still be room enough for everyone to feel at ease.

As he was about to enter the showers, Isyd caught sight of his reflection. His hair, shoulder-length, was dark with a single lock white as snow that he put behind his ear. His clean-shaven face presented sharp features, almost bony, with a pronounced nose, high cheekbones and dark brown eyes. Isyd could have looked like any normal man of his age if it wasn’t for his body. It was covered in past injuries: three, parallel, jagged scars ran on his left flank, a long scar followed the curve of his right thigh, his left chest and his back presented signs of burned tissues and below a faded cut on his stomach were the remnants of a gut wound eerily circular.

And it was without mentioning his right arm, tightly and fully wrapped in white bandages from the very tip of his fingers to his right shoulder. This was the worse scar of them all for it was on this arm that Isyd carried the [Taint], the vileness of the Obcys.

Thankfully, his right arm was sealed to prevent the [Taint] from killing him or spreading to others. This was the purpose of the bandages in the first place. They weren’t ordinary bands of gauze but precious tissues that Isyd had turned into [Arcanes] by means of complex [Hexes] woven within the fabric. It explained the unusual characteristics of bandages such as always remaining dried even when he fully submerged himself in water, or remaining clean no matter the circumstances. After all these years, Isyd had gotten used to his infliction, but it was in those moments when he laid his eyes on his naked body that he was reminded of how thin of a line he was walking.

A line between survival and death, with only a few pieces of cloth as a safeguard.

As usual, Isyd felt his skin twitch under his bandages every time he pondered too much about it. He entered the shower for a quick rinse and to wash off the dirtiness of the day, before entering the bath properly.

He let out a deep sigh of relief as he let himself sink deeper within the deep, therapeutic waters. This hit the spot every single time. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander off from painful thoughts of the Obcys and the War.

Naeht, who had run away previously to make sure that no one was observing Isyd too closely, came back to his side. She smiled at seeing her friend so relaxed. She put herself in the waters next to him, pretending that she could also feel its effects. After long minutes of silence, she finally decided to ask a question she’d been wondering after their little adventure of the night.

“So… the Whitewater Staff…” she said, dreamily. “Tell me, Isyd, did you really split a river in two with your Staff like Wolteh said you did?”

Isyd, still eyes closed, smiled and remembered a time long ago, in another world.

“Well, I guess I can tell you a bit about it. Be warned, Naeht, the truth was in fact even crazier than Wolteh made it out to be…”