Aeris; Primal of Air,(Aer). One of the twin goddesses of the storm. Aeris is portrayed as a young maiden with a traveller's staff, running in a whirlwind with unshod feet. Some iterations of her have wings on her back. She is considered the patron of travellers and couriers and is one of the Primals revered by the sylvani. from Nithenoel Wyndham’s Facts and Fiction, In the Mages’ Guild Almanac Issue 23, Year 1505 AC.

After that, two nundines had passed. Arthur had reached a level of preparation he deemed sufficient for roughing it in the wild. Despite the lack of an accompanying class, his swordcraft was passable enough.

Besides, spellcraft was his primary arsenal. He had already been mastered to the point he could conjure three spells simultaneously, [Gale] tied to a gesture, [Spark Bolt] cast from both hands. The latter could now be cast 24 times, and it's more powerful upgrade, [Thunder Bolt] had risen to 8 casts, a testament to his growth.

Finally, his [Inventory Chest] was packed, with two nundines' worth of food, his favourite tool chest, his duffel bag full of clothing, and the Mark II. The plane seat he’d arrived in also went into the magical storage.

He was surprised that they all fit despite the size he perceived in his mind. That was until he recalled that there was a compression ratio he’d forgotten about. The dimensions were just there to denote how big of a volume could be deposited in one go.

The only reason he had not departed was that the owner of Sturm's Keep had yet to return. He’d tried calling for her through her actual body to no avail. So he waited.

Arthur did not wait long. As if intuiting his readiness, Aeskyre returned one night while Arthur was having his dinner in the kitchen. Her entry was preceded by the sound of her steel-capped stilettos ringing from the hallway. That was the first time Arthur had known Aeskyre to wear shoes.

The youth looked up from his food as Aeskyre sat on the seat across from him. There was a different air about her. A glow haloed around her as if she’d gone on vacation and found herself. It was in the way she carried herself and the new clothing she wore. She had a puffy blue off-shoulder blouse with a black corset midriff, a long skirt with a high slit, and a floppy hat made from amber leather. An iridescent azure feather sat at the trim of the hat.

“Aeskyre, I—”

“Here—” Aeskyre said, practically steamrolling him. She produced a nondescript knap-sack and slid it across the table. As was his wont, Arthur had already triggered his [Draconic Sight] as soon as he’d felt the aura of subdued magic woven into the leather.

“For me?” he pointed to himself. “What is it?”

She dipped her hand into the knapsack and drew out a black robe with a trim so dark it drank in light. It had a high collar that folded outwards and could be trussed up all the way to one’s cheeks. Double belted cuffs with similarly black eyelets would be used to adjust the breadth of its sleeves. Another belt adjusted the waist like a trench coat. The robe must have reached his knees.

If Aeskyre hadn’t spoken up, Arthur would have thought the material originated from a black shark because of the sandpapered appearance of the leather.

“Nightstalker’s robe; made from the leather of a Nightstalker, a wyvern of the same name and woven with obfuscation enchantments. It is meant to make you unobtrusive as you activate the enchantments from the cuffs,”she said, demonstrating by tapping the onyx gems hidden away by the belts on the wrists.

No matter how hard he tried, Arthur found it hard to concentrate on the robe. “ It lasts up to a quart at a time before it has to recharge from ambient mana or your body,” Aeskyre added as Arthur took it from her.

The draconic woman drew out a smaller pouch that looked like a gift bag , a silver-blue two-handed sword, and a dagger made from a dark material. Arthur had to do a double-take on the dagger because it looked wicked, like some predator’s fang. It curved from the hilt, with serrations on the opposite side of the cutting blade. It would have been a malevolent weapon if it had had a red aura, but it had a blue one. Blue looked cool.

Seeing Arthur's expression, she snorted, “What? You thought I was sending you out into the world defenceless?”

“That looks like overkill ,” he said, goggling the blue sword and the black dagger.

“ Overkill might be a great name,” she said deadpan. Aeskyre sheathed the dagger and took out an accompanying sheath for the sword as well before sliding them across to him. Arthur picked up the weapons.

The dagger was the size of his forearm, while the sword was like the longsword he’d practised with. They were both well balanced in his palms and the enchantments were so tiny they might as well have been etched with a needle. Or better yet, threaded into the metal as if the metal was cloth and they were runecraft was the hem.

“Cerusthil. Silver, dwarfsteel, and mithril for the sword,” Aeskyre said. “ Forged with your affinities in mind,”

Arthur gave her a questioning look.

“ For the dagger, it is better that you do not know.” Aeskyre shook her head. “ However, you should bind Overkill to yourself,”

Arthur nodded mutely. He’d read about binding enchantments, they were like biometric keys but for mana. As he put the weapons aside, Aeskyre prompted him to open the pouch.

Hesitantly, he unfastened the knot holding the mouth closed and peered into its depths. There, sitting at the bottom, were two rings. “Enchanted rings?” he asked, shaking them out. One was platinum with blue accented grooves, while the other was black with red accents. The former had details of scales and a small embossment of a dragon, against the silhouette of a jagged mountain, while the latter had no such decorations, save for looking like it was made from cheap burnished metal.

“ The first is the translocation ring for a vault with the Imperium Bank,” Aeskyre pointed out. “ It allows you to store your valuables in a bank vault attuned to the ring you possess. Once it is bonded, even a thief will have difficulty stealing it from you. Whoever tries to kill you or coerce you won’t be there to enjoy anything,” the draconic woman said grinning.

“And the second?”

“ A ring of obfuscation,” Aeskyre said. “ It shall allow you to dictate what you want other people to see when they look at you. Some powerful individuals have inspection skills that can gauge or tell the type of class someone possesses. "

Arthur nodded mutely. He put both on his right arm, both of them self-adjusted to fit his middle finger and ring finger.

‘Why am I even surprised?’ Arthur mused.

“Now infuse the bank ring and make your first withdrawal. That should verify your mana signature and recognise you as its owner,” Aeskyre said. “ While deposits are practically without limit, be aware that, there is a limited number of withdrawals a day,”

‘ That’s prudent,’ Arthur thought. The infusion was as simple as letting a trickle of mana into the ring. He felt a substantial drain in his mana well before the ring flashed once. Then he thought about making a withdrawal by holding out his hand. The details of what was sitting in his bank vault appeared to him the same way items appeared in [Inventory Chest]. However, there was a definite volume to the size of the former.

A pouch popped into existence and Arthur immediately felt the weight on his hand. There were no magical effects, no sounds, and no disturbance in his [Mana Sense] either. He could use that to cover for his [Inventory Chest] skill too, because who said a vault only carried money? He unknotted the silvered string and put his hand inside. It came back holding a fistful of currency. His breath caught as soon as he laid his eyes on the currency of Gold, Vermillion, Amber and Jade.

“100 Continental Gold coins, 10 Crowns, 1 Dwarven Mark, 10 Amber Obols, and half a Jade Obol,” Aeskyre remarked.

From Valerith Quillworth's point of view, copper had as much value as a dollar 500 years ago. In no way was it mentioned explicitly in his book, Alkerd: New World History, but one could tell a people’s economy from their livelihood and expenditure on basic commodities. So Arthur’s suppositions were merely speculations at that point. Having some point of reference was better than having none at all―

“Hmm, I should also warn you that the value of the continental currency has depreciated four times since the first record,” Aeskyre said off-handedly.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that it's a lot of money!” Arthur said as he recalculated. The continental currency must have adjusted to market conditions by depreciating against the incumbent currency since it was relatively new.

With recalculations, he had in aggregate, 500 gold from the Crowns, 1000 gold from the Dwarven Mark, 1000 gold from 10 Amber Obols, and lastly, 5000 gold from half of a Jade Obol. It was easy to see that a pecking order existed within the currency, and after accounting for Eryth’s higher purchasing power parity, Arthur was saddled with a staggering 7,600,000 dollars.

“ There is enough currency in there to let you live like a Titled Lord. Never let it be said I was not generous,” Aeskyre smirked. “And no, before you ask, I’m not taking it back. Be grateful and be done with it.”

“But...”

“ Believe me, you’ll need it. You still have an aership to build, don’t you?”

“Ah, that figures,” Arthur said, tightening the pouch before willing it into the bank vault. He had a feeling that he had five more withdrawals for the day.

“Prudent,” Aeskyre said. “ Make sure you don’t draw attention to your weapons as well. Featureless the sheathes may be, make no mistake, they are as durable as the armour I’ve given you. They have obfuscation spells to ensure no one tries to inspect them.”

“ Thank you,” he mumbled, making a note to learn whichever skill it was that inspected artefacts. It had to be higher up the skill tree than [Diagnostics] . There was no denying that without having earned it in any way, he felt like a fraud toting around that much money. It was going to be a task to have spending discipline, but he’d draw up a budget as soon as he acquainted himself with material costs. Maybe he could even buy a small shipyard or a warehouse, whichever would be suitable.

“Wait, did you say armour?” Arthur enquired, giving the knapsack another appraisal.

“That there is. What I just mentioned is just half of what I put in there. Figure out the rest in your own time, ” she grunted.

“ Okay?”

“But I must ask you, Arthur O'Reilly, Aeskyre’s face turned grave. She levelled him with a weighty gaze. Arthur shifted in his seat.

“Are you ready to kill to defend yourself? To take another sapient life to preserve your own? Do you have the stomach to bloody your hands if you think someone is standing in the way of your goal? Will you wield your spell and blade for something you think is just? I will once again remind you that the world out there—, “ she pointed beyond the kitchen wall; light from the waxing off-white Oonaris and mauve Trinarosa shone through a glass alcove window, “ are monsters worse than mindless beasts who wear the skin of men. So I ask again, Arthur Wade O’Reilly , are you ready to have the blood of another sapient being on your hands?”

“Well, when you just drop that on me out of the blue—” Arthur responded, suddenly numb as he was put on the spot.

“You need not answer me. Mayhap you shall find the answer while you slumber,” she said as she stood up to go. Just as she had reached the door, she turned around, “Arthur…”

“Yes?”

“Nothing…” She paused contemplatively. It was so unlike her to be unsure of something. “Pleasant aven tides,” Aeskyre said and then left.

‘What was that all about?’ Arthur thought, drawing the cerusthil sword. His blurry visage was reflected on the blade while the sword glinted with hues of blue, green, and magenta.

He returned the longsword to its scabbard with a sigh before he put it in his [Inventory Chest]. Then he appraised the dagger, Overkill really fit its moniker to a tee. He remembered he was supposed to bond with it, and infused it with some of his mana. It was like pushing oil through a straw.

The dagger had not been bonded yet, which meant it was new. That or its previous owner had died; it was hard to tell with the timeless metal. Invisible runes on the fuller lit it up in electric blue as resistance suddenly gave way. The weapon buzzed like an angry bee in his hand as it grew warmer.

Arthur yelped as the feeling of suction emanated from his hand and dispelled his magic. The dagger clattered on the table. It felt hungry! His mana veins ached after just a couple breaths of giving it his power.

He gingerly sheathed it and attached it to his belt. Despite its peculiarity, the weight of the weapon was reassuring.

There were more things to go through in the knapsack. Arthur was going to have a long night ahead of him.

The following morning, Arthur was decked out in travelling gear. Wherever Aeskyre had gone on a shopping spree, she’d spoiled him with an Erythean wardrobe. And now he looked the part of a native, albeit one with means.

Under his Nightstalker’s robe, he wore a brown armour vest. It was secured with four brass tipped belts across his torso and looked like a vintage high-neck waistcoat. Underneath, he wore a long-sleeved shirt spun from the silk of an iron widow. The grey outfit retained the suppleness of the fabric, yet it could shrug off slashing and piercing.

Though he was warned that an arrow would bruise. His trousers were made from the same material spun into heavier fabric and dyed blue to resemble his denim jeans down to the brass buttons and watch pocket.

It even had a zipper―whatever length’s Aeskyre had gone to get that made him grateful; magic was truly convenient. He almost hadn’t slept a wink as he vacillated between the number of pairs presented.

Rounding up his ensemble was a scale mailed sleeve for his right arm, secured at the bicep. It was studded leather at the wrist and ended in tipped claws that meshed well with his fingers. While it was meant to hide his altered arm, it was also a casting aid for his lightning magic.

In addition, he wore a bracer for his left arm and greaves for his shins and knees. Of course, there was no forgetting the shoes, which were the most comfortable pair yet, automatically resizing as the situation called for it.

“I am of half a mind to put you in chains rather than risk you meeting with unforeseen peril,” Aeskyre opined, exhaling a cloud of mist in the morning air. Arthur looked askance as he cleaned up the obsiderite crystal lenses on his dwarven goggles. A scarf covered the lower half of his face, protecting his neck with its folds of steel silk.

The sun was just cresting the horizon, and the dew on the rocks had yet to dry. “Nevertheless, you are your own person. Then again, it would be remiss of me if I did not caution you. Wherever civilization is to be found, Arthur O’reilly, I want you to keep your head down. Avoid attention if you can until you have the strength to warrant it,”

“Haha, I’m no royal prince worth caging up in a tower,” Arthur chuckled nervously.

Aeskyre gave him an obtuse stare and said, “All that literature about dragons kidnapping helpless royals is in poor taste. What use is keeping a fragile trophy if it doesn’t appreciate with age?”

“You know... I hate goodbyes. I didn’t even get a chance to tell the people I knew, before I found myself here,” Arthur began, with a forlorn look on his face.

“But I remember a little song that I used to hear when I was younger and I think it suits the moment― Aloha Oe. I wish I could sing it, but I'm afraid I’m no [Bard]... I doubt my voice would please you. "

“Many thanks Arthur O’Reilly,”she said, smiling.The first straightforward smile that Arthur knew from her. It was so disarming Arthur got whiplash from the turnaround. Even the gratitude, it wasn't said as if the woman had wrung the words out of her throat of magic made flesh.

“I know what it means; love to you, welcome, farewell. That you intended to, already warms my bosom. Verily, I do not wish to bid thee farewell mineself.” Then she paused, a faraway look overtaking her expression for a breath before she turned back to him.

“ Be as it may, I shall leave you with my blessing.”

“ Erm, I don’t know what to say,” Arthur said. He switched his weight to his left foot. He was feeling rather antsy, as if he had been sitting at a meeting whose adjournment had been drawn out for too long. “ You’ve already done so much for me,” he added after a beat.

“ No. You might as well take this one and leave everything behind.” she said, brooking no argument of the fact. “How many names do you think an average Erythian human has Arthur O’Reilly?”

“ Uhm...two?” Arthur hazarded a guess. He hadn’t noticed it, but every time the dragon used his name, it was always with the two names.

“I am pleased I didn't take in a complete slack-headed idiot,”

Arthur winced at the jab.

“ Your name is too conspicuous. Someone might notice you and scry you from afar. I know not how magic progresses out there,” she posited, looking towards the open mouth of the cave.

The sky was clearing up. The sun was coming out. Somehow it seemed even nature had waited for this moment like the moment a nestling made their first flight.

“ Some inspection skills and their ilk might peel away the veil of your origins. However, some names are powerful depending on who bequeathed them.”

“ I—” Arthur started. His eyes went wide.

“ Kneel Arthur Wade, son of Oreilly.”

Arthur clumsily shuffled to kneel. He stared at the dragon, dressed in a woman’s likeness. There was a presence about her, even more so than he’d ever felt in all the time he’d been around her. There was solemnity in the air; it even bid him close his eyes, trusting in what the dragon was about to do. So he did.

He sensed it before he felt it. A thread of tension between Aeskyre’s manicured claw; beautiful and deadly. She touched his forehead, and Arthur felt a shock go through him. Then came the words, a soliloquy woven from power itself, orated by nothing but a draconic tongue. He understood every single word of it.

“ Neath Aeris’ fair skies,

World, heed my entreaty,

All-mother, be my witness

On this morn, I Aeskyre

Stormdragon,

Proclaim Arthur, Wade O’Reilly

Shall from now henceforth be called ,

A Scion of Sturmdrache,

I acknowledge this bond,

As a progenitoress,

Go forth and conquer the skies,

Arise, Arthur of Sturmdrache.”

And then, it was done. No fanfare, no flashes of great magic; just the feeling that time had resumed. Was that even a thing? But Arthur felt it, he felt surer, anchored. Like a tether knotted so tightly on terra firma, it would take nothing but the worst of storms to shake him. And if one good turn deserves another; how could he not?