Baking under the warm rays of the mid-day sun, Wosche had an abundance of time to consider how his life decisions had a tendency of turning out differently to how he’d expected. When he’d come down south, he’d expected to be drawn into the antics and excitement of the contracted adventurers. He’d anticipated being pushed to his limits with daring and dangerous contracts that pushed him out of the monotonous malaise of his normal life.

Instead, he sat on top of a simple horse as it trailed behind his friends on yet another extra-curricular excursion. Viera had organised the excursions most weekends, with either her or Thredrin taking them out to go somewhere in the Hiford province so they could learn about something boring like taxation, land management, or even more Creation Magic.

As he clung to his horse's reins, exhaustion and boredom worked in tandem to loosen his grip and give in to a little afternoon snooze. Whatever the risk.

Gritting his teeth and sitting back up straight, Wosche ignored their siren call. Sleeping was one of his favourite activities but the risks were a long trip down to the cobblestones and an afternoon discussion with Viera about his dedication to his studies.

Wosche wrapped the reins around his left hand and reaffirmed how much he didn’t want to fall asleep. With his right hand, he rubbed his eyes and tried to force himself awake through sheer force of will.

When they'd set out in the morning, he’d been glad to see some sunlight between the ever present clouds of the south but it had slowly become an unbearable mix of ceaseless sunshine and suffocating humidity. On horseback, he, Viera, and his three friends had sweltered on the eastern roads of the Hifordlands as they travelled to the Golden Plains.

All the while, Viera had monologued at them about agriculture, trade, and the many uses of Creation Magic for the commonfolk. As he'd come to learn, Viera was never one to pass on an opportunity to teach and her idea of an exciting trip was a trip talking non-stop about magic and politics.

For the first two hours of the day, Wosche had done his best to listen, then he flagged in the third, and going into the fourth hour, he'd well and truly given up. Being bored had never been his forte and travelling was always a hit or miss for him, usually depending on the destination and the company.

To distract himself, he dropped his hand non-chalantly onto his pommel and fiddled with the secret compartment he’d designed many years ago. With pressure from his thumb and middle finger, he popped the lid to the side and found the snacks he’d squirrelled away.

A handful of nuts were all that remained of the trail mix that he’d put in his pommel pocket and he worked several free as he kept his legs tight on his horse’s side and left hand on the reins. Pretending to stifle a yawn, he brought his right hand up to his mouth and stealthy dropped a few almonds into his mouth. With a sly look forward, he found none of the others had noticed that he had been eating snacks without them the whole trip.

Hiding the snacks really was beneath him but the charade of it all helped to break the monotony of their long dreary morning ride. That and he didn’t want to share if he could help it. Saturday was for secret snacks and shenanigans. And so far, he’d only got one of them.

It had started well, with Viera spontaneously cancelling their Saturday training to whisk them away to the country. With travel packs full and little tents packed, Wosche was overjoyed to see what the town of Suttrail held for them.

It seemed like a bit of a nothing town, corroborated by the fact that he’d never heard of it before but he had faith there was a reason Viera had taken them so far out. When they’d set off, she’d even mentioned that there could be adventures around if he knew where to look for them but then had been frustratingly tightlipped afterwards.

So, much to his discontent, he waited patiently to see what eventuated with very little to occupy him. Making matters worse, the horse he’d been giving was a moody old mare, being touchy to every order he gave and not working with him at all. The entire day, she had been yanking at her bit and refused every command he gave her that didn’t come with a squeeze of her sides or yank on her reins.

Back in Kudraul, he had his own horse, Excalibur, who had been properly trained from birth, and the difference was notable. His noble steed was bred from the horse of the Breisachian low plains and had a lineage of warhorses to draw on. Given to him as a gift from his parents, getting Excalibur had been his favourite present of his sixteenth birthday, with his second favourite being the trainer his father had organised for Excalibur to ensure he developed into the quality horse he should be.

Wosche tugged on the reins and the old mare tugged back. With a squeeze of his legs around her ribcage, he reminded her that he was the boss. A flick of her tail was her response before she relented into a gentle walk like Wosche wanted.

Out to the Golden Plains and somewhere in the east was the best that Wosche knew for their direction and location. He didn’t recognise the road nor the landmarks around them. The bridges they’d crossed were well-maintained and the roads were cobblestone so he assumed they weren’t in Hilan lands but if he felt confident he felt in where they were, he’d tell them he was feeling very lost. Very, very sweaty and very lost.

They’d only turned off the highway only a few hours out of the East Gate when they’d begun their journey but they’d zigzagged along quiet roads from then on and it had all been too much for him to keep track on. Every road was lined with seas of fields of wheat, barley, and other fields he didn’t recognise.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he repositioned his shirt again and tried not to think about the sweat. Nor that his shirt clung to his back incessantly and his pants were several shades darker than what they had been before. Above him, dark rain clouds loitered in the sky, overladen but unrelenting above him.

Their threat of rain being a constant on their trip but getting rained no longer mattered overly to him. In the last three weeks, he had been perpetually wet, whether it be from rain or sweat. With an unfounded optimism, he lifted the back of his shirt and flapped it to fan air up the midline of his back.

Working to some degree, his shirt propelled the sluggish air up his back as he waved it back forth. Unfortunately, every few attempts Wosche made to fan was matched by one overcorrection where the shirt accidentally slapped into his back. With a shiver, Wosche carefully placed his shirt back down and accepted his current situation. As the shirt suctioned back against him, he simply closed his eyes, counted to three, and died ever so slightly inside.

Such a long day and such a long time until he was going to get a new shirt. Like a fool, he’d forgotten to pack an extra shirt to wear the night before and he’d only realised it on their first break that morning.

Despite knowing that his friends would eventually figure it out, he hadn’t had the heart to tell them of his predicament. Explaining that he’d been too focussed on smuggling in a bottle of rum in his pile of clothes to realise he’d packed two pairs of shorts and a set of thick leggings in lieu of another shirt.

Leaning forward onto the pommel, Wosche tried to ignore his discomfort and instead watched the day pass before him. With the bread basket of their noble country all around him, their stroll was a far cry away from the adventure Wosche had been craving when he went to bed. He should have known better but he’d been just waiting for Thredrin or Viera to announce that they were going to get to the contract work they’d promised weeks ago.

No such luck yet, with every day being classes and every excursion a lecture in disguise.

Still, Wosche surmised as he clung to consciousness, it could be worse. In front of him lay the open eastern fields of Weidenland in all of their glory and it definitely beat rotting away in Kudraul. Even if the times of heroics and adventure were a long time ago in the eastern lands, the history was enough to sustain Wosche’s interest when it was discussed. Much of the plains were part of the Dark Forest centuries ago and his ancestors had fought tooth and nail to settle the lands for humankind. When Wosche had tried to grill Viera for what she knew of the Golden Plains history, she had given him and the others a long drawn-out lecture on the botane mages of yore and their agricultural expertise. He’d rued his inquisitiveness as she went into great detail about how they’d birthed the fertile fields that had been used since their time.

Those fertile fields had been the origin of their nickname of the Golden Plains. Much of the land was gentle rolling hills that stretched out through the provinces of the Houses Hiford, Mitome, and Hilan, with each of them controlling a large percentage of the fields. The Plains were said to make the grains and barley for more than half the country and harboured the very heart of the Weidenfolk’s great country, with many in the area claiming that they were the first Weidenfolk.

Hearing how commonfolk obsess over their cultural heritage of the first lands of Weidenland. So much of the Houses’ rhetoric was that Weidenland were the direct descendants of the followers of the Good Gods, despite the first kingdom being a speck on the map of greater Coia. Anyone who knew their real history knew that the first boundaries were only a small part of what the Mitome lands were now and that the only real conquests that formed their country were the final years of war against Schlupunt and the Mevikian tribes. That real history had royally offended his three House friends in the morning when Wosche had brought it up. What he’d intended as a fun fact about how so many Housefolk perceived the creation of their country had thrown Viera’s lecture into disarray, with even Viera’s support not saving Wosche from hearing Teon and Ellen’s slew of dogmatic defenses about their ancestors’ right to settle the north.

Both of them had spent the rest of their trip as close to Viera as humanly possible, eager to curry favour as ever. Wosche had come and gone, uninspired to take part in all the politicking both about and in the Golden Plains.

The idle chatter of the others drifted to him as he stretched up high in his saddles to look over the fields. Far far in the south were the Central Mountain Range that made up the middle of Coia. Far far in the south and far far out of his reach, the Central Mountains were both the very centre of the world and lands of adventures and riches. Excitement he could only dream of for now with folk of all corners of the world meeting in the great cities that lived in the underlands of Mahenia.

Wosche had only ever seen the underlands of Mahenia once before and even then, it was only a limited excursion into the Great Cavern that housed Ilreana. Of all the subterranean nation, Wosche had been escorted through the capital city with no opportunities to experience the country the way he’d wanted. When he’d seen the incredible three dimensional maps of the Mahenian lands, he’d been enamored with the idea of exploring them all and seeing each of the underground wonders the map dictated.

When he had left Mahenia, he’d promised himself that he would return to see more than just its capital. Moving to Ol’Haran was a step in the right direction he had thought but he now couldn’t be so sure.

Wosche let out a big sigh as he pulled out his water canteen. With a swirl, the liquid inside sloshed around at the bottom. Time would tell and, as much as he loathed it, he would just have to bide his time.

Taking a healthy swig of the last of his water, Wosche scanned the horizon until he saw what he was looking for. A town was slowly drawing closer and he was sure they’d stop for a break.

Surely it was nearly lunch time. Wosche looked up into the sky and tried to determine just how close they were to noon.

After nearly blinding himself, all he could glean was that he had no clue how folks could gauge the time from something like the sun. That and he needed to repair his old watch at some point.

Screwing his canteen’s lid on tight, Wosche would just have to bide his time. He’d leapt at the chance to come down south, the idea of adventure and travel catching his eye as he loitered in the Academy.

With all of his friends having to leave the Academy during his second attempt at the Exams, the choice to join them hadn’t felt like much of a choice for him either. Reconnecting with Ellen and getting to know the others had made the dull life of school much more interesting but what he really missed was doing something important. Sitting in class had reminded him just how itchy his feet would get when he was forced to sit and listen about the accomplishments and innovations of others.

The same feeling of time slipping away from him dogged his every step and all Wosche could do was listen to more of Viera’s lectures. Pulling at his horse’s reins again, Wosche watched his friends as they crowded Viera as she lectured them and forced a smile on his face. The distance between him and the rest was increasing and he urged his horse to catch up, even if it was half-hearted.

Their conversation drifted over the humid air to reach him. The practical uses of ice magic when delivering goods internationally was still being put under the microscope and Viera commanded the conversation. More trade talk and more lecturing.

Wosche’s hand reached down to the scuff mark on his saddle but he decided not to leave the loose thread alone. A while back, he’d tried to stuff cotton from the saddle into his ears when they had talked about logistics and diplomacy but the impromptu ear plugs hadn’t lasted.

Without any other option, Wosche had chosen to return to a tried and true classic: Complete disassociation.

Of the others, Riu meandered furthest back, bridging the gap between him and the others. Her hands in her lap, she was fiddling with one of her new inventions as she feigned interest.

She was a thin rake of a girl nowadays. In the year that Wosche had been on the tournament circuit, she’d shot up in height to the point where she was close to his height even as he finished his delayed growth spurt.

Riu was pretty in her own right, in Wosche’s opinion. With wispy light brown hair and a narrow face that accentuated her mousey features, she had a gentle elegance to her that matched perfectly with her aloof attitude.

Despite knowing her for years, they’d not been friends until he’d returned and found that she had followed in much the same path as her. Just like him, she’d joined the specialist programs and engaged in extra-curricular programs back when she was in the Academy. Unlike him, she had managed the pressure of being one of the golden children of the Houses a good deal longer than she had.

When he’d joined the Academy again, he and Riu had grown closer through their shared disdain of the shortcomings of the Academy and the stress of others’ lofty expectations of them.

Riu had already completed her penultimate year but the subsequent burn out from her final term of the previous year had left her bed bound for the entire winter holidays, meaning her studies had lined up nicely with the rest of them.

She’d enjoyed his nightmare experiences of finishing the specialist program and how much he wished he could get his time back. When they’d discussed how Riu had been pressured to achieve Lead marks in every subject despite being younger and woefully short on time, Wosche had realised that he’d even had it easier with his parents being sane and none of the additional pressures of being Housed.

Then, the incident had changed everything. He heard the story from Ellen, Teon, and Riu at one time or another and Wosche still struggled to wrap his head around how it had all eventuated. Riu snapping one night and breaking Rean’s wrist was something so outlandish that he’d not believed it at first.

Waiting as long as he could, Wosche had gone to visit Riu the day after the incident and still remembered how despondent she had been. She was beyond reprieve as she packed her belongings into her trunk and told him she’d be sent back to River’s Edge. Unsure what to do, he had spun stories of him scaling up her window to steal her away to Ilreana and they’d laughed about the idea of him trying to orchestrate his overly complex, fantastical plan on their last night together for a long, long time.

For a long, long time was what they thought until Viera burst into the room with an offer of a lifetime. Wosche watched in awe as Viera Courfelt herself came to visit to tell Riu to continue packing her things but instead travel to Ol’Haran and study with her for the Exams for the following year.

Refusing to take no for an answer, Viera told Riu she would convince her Family and that if Wosche knew what was good for him, then he should come too.

The country’s greatest mind had swept into the room, declared what would happen, and left Wosche and Riu with no choice but to agree. There was a certain magic about Viera, one beyond the runes and bijou charms she was famous for. She was brilliant, with the air of someone far more knowledgeable than the average noble and far more credentials to prove she was in fact much more than any of the usual House fluff.

When Viera had come to Wosche’s parents, it had gone just as well as when she’d talked to him. She talked to them of how he would learn how to negotiate the space between Houses and the adventurers, promising he’d learn to excel in the asymmetrical warfare that had won Weidenland the Northern War. That and of the money could be generated and all with a role in the courts that rivaled the Houses.

All his parents asked was whether he wanted to join them.

It had been funny; he’d not replied immediately because his mind had already run off with the dream of it all. If he could endure the hours of mage talk and the endless jostling of his friends for Viera’s attention, he could become an adventurer. He could still remember his father's look of disapproval as they waited for his response. With an eloquent apology, he had gratefully accepted Viera’s offer and never looked back.

And now, nearly a month later, he was on the edge of the Golden Plains, coated in sweat but not regretting his choice to pivot when he was given the choice.

Pivot to a different path. And not accept the stifling musk of the Academy halls. Frowning, Wosche sniffed his armpits before he made his decision. Enough was enough, his shirt had to go.

The wetness, the odour and the ceaseless clinging pressure on his lower back gave him no choice but to prioritise pragmatism over propriety. Working his arms under his shirt, Wosche ripped the shirt up over his head and cherished the freedom.

The cool air from his mare’s gentle shamble brushed against his body and he shivered in delight. He placed the shirt on the horse’s neck and stretched up into the sky as his day suddenly brightened back up.

As Wosche secured his grip on the reins again, his horse gave a slight tug in response but did little to fight him. What he needed was to get his horse, Excalibur, brought down south. Bringing him down meant Wosche would need to organise a stable and that meant a debate with his father about allocating the funds for that and the food and care required.

Wosche tried to work up the energy to sigh but couldn’t quite get there. Leaning back on his saddle, he opened his chest up but only got a nice deep breath for his adjustment. His father was always tight with their money, hounding his mother about being frugal incessantly. When Wosche had asked his mother about it, she laughed that so much of his dear father’s perspective came from his humble beginnings.

During the upcoming tournament, Wosche would raise the idea of increasing his funds with his mother to see what came of it. Until then, Wosche supposed the best thing he could do would probably be focussed on networking with Viera just in case his mother wanted information in exchange for more funds. Digging his heels into his horse’s side, Wosche ordered her to move faster but got a lacklustre response.

“How one sets the parameters of your bijous is just as important as maintaining a clear mind for the schematics that you weave into its centre. Especially when you are looking to maximise efficiency and create complex commands like a slow release of energy, you need to make sure that the bijou maintains its shape.” Viera’s voice carried over the others as they huddled around her.

Much to Wosche’s chagrin as he tried to find an inlet to join the audience. He moved to the left to join Ellen as Viera continued to lecture, “For sensitive foods, like unsalted raw meat, having consistent cooling throughout the journey is incredibly important. Which means that the bijou charm needs to release a moderate amount of energy over a long time at an even, steady pace. And that means that merchants will normally contract a competent mage to accompany the goods, preferably the same mage that created the bijous or there will be energy loss.”

Viera kept talking but met Wosche’s eyes as he rounded to the side of the group, “It’s pricey, if you have to hire a mage that is good enough to create and activate such a complex bijou but many in Mahenia can afford the lofty price. Something for those who are interested in a very easy way to make a carriage full of coin to keep in mind.”

Wosche scrunched his face as he considered how boring the life of a glorified ice block would be.

Viera let out a light lilting laugh as she looked at him and caused the others to look around.

“Wosche! Where is your shirt?” Ellen asked, quite startled.

“It fell off a while back,” Wosche responded airily, gesturing to the shirt sitting on his horse’s mane.

“Why is it so wet?” Teon asked next to Ellen.

Her words hit his ego hard but Wosche feigned indifference. He checked to see Riu staring impassively at him and then ignored all three of them to wait for Viera to continue.

“In any case, we aren’t here to discuss how to carry meat, are we?” Viera brought them back on track, “The schematics used in bijous give directions for the energy we store inside. With a mage well versed in the creation of bijous, there is a lot that can be done with Creation magic as it currently exists. But there are limits. Like the type of mana drawn and the mage’s ability to form the intricate patterns of our schematics for example. But can someone tell me two other limiting factors?”

A lack of training and fatigue. His parents had drilled him about the basics of Creation Magic since he was young and he’d enjoyed the intricacies of the unique magic of his humanfolk. Then, any desire for becoming a mage had dulled as soon as the expectations that came from being the child of two of the country’s best mages reared their ugly head.

“Environmental pressures, like if the bijou charms get rained on or maybe the bijou charm becomes cracked. And poor concentration, if the mage is distracted or fatigued.” Teon answered, eager to impress Viera as always.

“Good, Teon. Those are two major considerations. Distractions can be everywhere and, as you all know, it requires training to stay focussed on your bindings. Then, as well, cracks can occur through poor handling, adverse weather, or even just spontaneously, which is why we must check a bijou’s bindings before we cast, every single time.”

“Viera?” Ellen began but made sure to wait until Viera gave the go ahead, “If we have to check our bijous before we use them, how are they used in a fight? I understand a battle mage is probably able to train to improve their concentration when they fight but checking my bijou can take me five or more seconds at times.”

It was a great point which Wosche hadn’t considered.

“That is a great point, Ellen,” Viera praised heavily, “That is very true and it is why I advised the armed Mages not to allow themselves to be caught too close to the battle to ensure safety.”

Ellen glowed at Viera’s words and the whole interaction was hard not to scoff at. Ellen was such a goodie two shoes as soon as any adults were around.

Viera looked over the group and began only when she was sure they were focussed on her, “But other than that, there are some tips and tricks that some have developed that enable them to check their bindings incredibly quickly. In fact, between us and the horses, part of why I want to spend more time with the Board adventurers in the south is to see if I can figure out how they are using their bijous safely in combat. In a couple months and with some more meetings, I am excited to provide practical solutions to present to the Academy to answer exactly that question.”

Viera’s words were met with a resounding ooh and ahh from his friends. Less susceptible to hopes and dreams, Wosche would be impressed when he watched her present the solutions.

Whatever the solutions were, they’d been a topic in the mage circles for a while. His parents had hosted the greatest magical minds of Kudraul, including Viera, at parties at his house and none of them had found a way to ensure bindings were stable all the time and he doubted that Viera was going to find answers from the likes of any travelling mages.

“The canisters I use are meant to ensure the bindings’ stabilisation during travel,” Teon brought up eagerly. Rushing to her bags, she produced a metal container the length of her forearm and the diameter of a silver coin. The cylinder had a small glass window that showed a collection of several neatly stacked bijou charms inside.

Viera lit up at the sight of Teon’s contraption, “Oh, how brilliant! Who made it? Can I have a look?”

Teon handed it across carefully, “It is a design made by Artificer Holprolm. He made something like it during the war and now he is making prototypes to sell them in the future.”

“Artificer Holprom, what a wonderful solution, by a wonderful mage as well. But, what, pray tell, happens if there is a chain reaction?” Viera inspected it carefully from numerous angles by turning it back and forward with her hand.

“What - what do you mean chain reaction?” Teon paled ever so slightly.

Pausing for a moment as she peered through the canister’s window, Viera muttered to herself, “Fascinating.”

“If one of the bijous were to have a spontaneous reaction, it could set all of them off. Then, if it was on your hip then it could probably blow a huge chunk of your hip right off.” Riu explained in Viera’s stead.

“Surely not.” Teon’s mouth hung open as she grabbed the other canister from inside her robe.

“Teon, tell me that you haven’t been carrying that on your belt.” Wosche said, disbelief making his voice croak as he considered just how often he’d been in the blast radius.

Teon stammered as she held the canister out in front of herself, “I thought. I… I assumed.”

“Hey. Now, children.” Viera looked up again and frowned at them as she pulled her horse to move closer to Teon.

As she drew closer, she turned Teon to the side and whispered something to her.

Unable to hear much, Wosche prodded his horse to move closer in to glean what he could, “- found a way to resolve a chain reaction issue if he’s given you the canister.”

Teon nodded solemnly at what Viera said before swivelling in her saddle to place the canisters in her furthest saddle bag.

“There are several inventions being made right now that will revolutionise the way we live, children.” Viera spoke loudly as she circled her horse back to the others, “That is why we have to keep moving forward because the last thing we want to do is be left behind. And, with that in mind, who would like to see my most recent invention?”

Receiving a hearty series of confirmation, Viera urged her horse onwards to a chanter towards the upcoming town.

Stirring his horse back into motion, Wosche watched Viera go. She was enchanting, even with her somewhat homely appearance. Entering the softer years of middle age, she had the gentle curves of the typical Creation mages of the capital. Nobility as well, Viera had only a little muscle mass and, as much as she tried to hide it, she had struggled to ride for so many hours.

Not that she needed to be able to ride for hours on end, with her fame coming from her intellect and her having more than enough coin to afford a carriage to travel whenever she wanted to should she choose.

Her lack of carriage wasn’t from any modest, Wosche knew well enough. Her clothes were always well-made and she wore her wealth with an ease that came from a lifetime of comfort. Her long hair was long golden curls that came down to her shoulders. They were natural, he assumed, what with the cost of them being professionally curled being too dear for even the likes of her.

All together, there was a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ about her. During galas and events with House Heads and the Queen of Weidenland herself, Viera still commanded rooms with everyone’s attention gravitating towards her.

Through his years, Wosche had watched people work very hard to gain time with the mystical Viera. The first time Viera had come to visit his parents, they had been so excited they’d redecorated half of the house just to make her feel at home.

“It’s just up here, somewhere,” Viera said as she pointed to the left of the road.

Wosche needed little encouragement to force his horse to move faster. After only a moderate amount of cajoling, his horse yielded into a half-hearted canter to follow her. Within moments, Ellen pulled up next to him, leering at him as Xavier overtook him with ease.

His face scrunched up into a scowl as he impotently watched her pull ahead. Her horse, Xavier, was a larger warhorse and a gift from her father several years ago. She loved her horse dearly, forcing Wosche out for days in the countryside around Kudraul just to ride when she first got him. Between him and Excalibur, they were both fine, purebred horses. Once he got Excalibur back, they'd have to see about a proper race.

Letting out a whoop, Ellen stood up high on her saddle. More and more, he was coming to realise just how much she was developing before his eyes. She’d always been quite tall but her muscles were filling out year on year. With all of her training, there was little wonder that she’d become so strong.

And so competent. In the sparring ring, she was a nightmare to fight against. She had a positive apex and excellent form when she fought with a sword. Trying to beat her in the ring hadn’t ever been easy but, when she wasn’t hamstrung by her clawing self-doubt, she was now a menace.

Riu and Teon appeared beside Wosche with little fanfare. They both cantered past her easily with Teon sticking her tongue out as she passed.

Wosche rolled his eyes and eased up on the reins. With a tug back on her bit, the old mare slowed down quickly to a trot.

He closed his eyes and let the brief glimpse of sunshine dry the sweat off of his body as it peeked from the clouds. Staying upright proved more difficult than he’d anticipated as he lazed in his seat. Every so often, he’d check to ensure that his horse was still going the right way but Wosche worked hard to maintain his sense of cool detachment. Harder than she should have to, sadly.

Wosche pushed the thought from his head and focussed on the moment. Whatever neat device Viera had created wasn’t going anywhere and the others would be talking about it all week probably. While he caught up, he could relish the sudden quiet as they dismounted.

After only a brief moment, Viera’s voice drifted in from the distance, “The town of Suttrail can track their exports all the way across the Western Sea to the Free Cities of Thursia. It also is sent to Breisachia if they are in drought and it has been fertile farming land for generations. However, that is until recently, where they have had some issues with soil quality.”

Wosche raised his eyebrow but didn’t open his eyes. He hadn’t heard that they had any issues and he prided himself on being ahead of the rumour mill. Opening one of his eyes, he found Viera and the others had dismounted twenty metres ahead and were crowded on the side of the road.

“But magic and creativity begets solutions and I present to you mine; a new material for rune smithing that can resolve our issues: the moissanite rune.” Viera pointed to something on the ground in the fields at the bottom of the road’s elevated shoulder.

Curiosity piqued, Wosche sat up in his saddle and gave the old mare a good squeeze with his heel.

Ahead of him, Viera confidently stepped off of the edge of the road as Wosche sped to catch them. The others trailed behind Viera, cautiously sliding down the slope into the fields as they whispered excitedly amongst themselves.

Wosche hopped off the horse as soon as he was able, his feet scuffing the ground as he pulled his horse to a stop. First tying his reins to Xavier, Wosche waited as long as he had to before he jumped over the edge of the road.

Sliding effortlessly down the rough slope, he landed next to Ellen, bumping into her shoulder as he caught himself. At their feet was a small metal device clicking at a slow, constant tempo. “Wosche, glad to see you joined us. Behold my new invention.” Viera fanned her hands out to the side to focus his attention on the little box open for them to inspect, “What you see before you is the key to food security in our lands: for our children and children’s children.”

Leaning in with the others, Wosche could make out the slightest sparkle from inside, a translucent rune, shaped much like a large diamond.

Viera didn’t wait for them to focus back on her before she explained, “The mechanism is nothing special, but the rune. That is something truly revolutionary. It is called moissanite and it is able to hold far more power than any of the runes that we currently use.”

“A rune?” Teon noted sceptically, “Not a bijou?”

“Indeed.” Viera’s eyes lit up as she jumped in again, “The stored magic can be cast directly from the rune and, even better, a rune this big has the carry capacity ten times that of a similar basalt rune. Fifteen of a sandstone equivalent.”

Looking out over the luscious fields, Wosche was impressed. A claim like Viera’s was almost too good to be true but, as he sat at the border of a surprisingly luscious field of wheat, Wosche was reminded of how often the Houses talked about Viera doing what no one else could. In a five metre spread around them, they were surrounded by some of the largest corn he’d ever seen.

“Given the issues with the northern crops right now, an innovation like this couldn’t come at a better time,” Wosche commented idly.

“Exactly,” Viera  agreed with him, “Advancements like this are integral to our country’s survival right now. Accommodating for the reduction in northern crops is the first step in resolving the turbulence that has shaken our kingdom. Just like the times of our grandparents, we will endure.”

Their grandparents, not hers, Wosche thought to himself. Hearing Viera tout the same old rhetoric of the Weiden Houses was more surprising to him than how concerned she was about the fears of an upcoming famine.

At not even one hundred and fifty years old, their fair kingdom was settled on the unsettled northern lands of the Dark Forest, bringing the light of the Good Gods to their dark vestiges. Or so the schools taught. Wosche resented how it neglected to mention the Ursa tribes, oruk communities, and human kingdoms that already crisscrossed throughout the land, ignoring it for the far more fanciful story that the Houses enjoyed.

Ignoring the distasteful rewriting of history, Wosche still found her rune fascinating. Set deep into the mechanism, the clear little rune sucked light through its transparent top, refracting some of the light onto the mechanism’s base. It looked like a diamond but with the thick inky substance snaking through its centre. Wosche dropped into a squat to get a closer look.

“Wooh, Wosche. Not too close. Remember it is still in the early stages of development. We probably shouldn’t even be this close as it is,” Viera placed her hand on his shoulder.

Propping back onto his heels, he stood back up next to Viera and Ellen, “I’ve never heard of moissanite before. What is it?”

“It is carbon. Like diamond, but with silicone mixed into it as well. I am looking to fabricate it now but it’s not easy to do at the best of times. Worse yet, it has been exceptionally hard to find. This piece of moissanite was attained from a site in the Sarick Commonwealth at a truly unreasonable cost.” Viera laughed as she moved back to the sloping road’s edge.

Wosche followed her, intrigued, “Just silicon and carbon, it doesn’t sound particularly conducive to a high carry capacity. Are you sure it isn’t some other material?”

“Wosche,” Ellen rebuked him quietly. She moved easily up the slope next to him, effortlessly, “Manners.”

“I just find it interesting,” Wosche replied offhandedly. He’d not heard anything about Viera’s research recently, with his parents being unexpectedly tight-lipped in their letters of late.

“Wosche finding magic interesting; I didn’t think I would see the day.” Riu added as she followed back up the slope.

In response, Wosche dragged his foot over the loose dirt to unleash a little landslide down on her before he hopped the last few steps of the slope. When he arrived back on the road, he found her face buried deep in one of her saddlebags as she rummaged through her belongings.

Giving him a slap on his arm as she passed, Ellen tutted as she saw their horses, “Oh very nice, leave Xavier to care for your horse.”

Wosche grinned maliciously as he moved to join her. With a gentle brush on his horse’s neck, his horse gave him a snort and pinned ears to welcome him back. Wosche brought his hand back from her face and decided to carefully slide his shirt off her mane, choosing to place it on the saddle instead.

“If the runes are similar in design to the fertilising bijous used, does that mean it suffers from a lack of specification and energy loss?” Teon asked from the edge of the road.

Viera turned back from her horse and looked at Teon with bemused shock, “This group, how do you come up with such good questions? It is just like having the House Heads every Saturday.”

Viera said as she produced a carrot for her horse, “The rune seems to address even our issues with specification funnily enough and most of the energy loss is mitigated by the sheer amount of energy the rune holds. Granted, tapping directly into the rune for casting has given me more than a few headaches in recent months, both from the casting of the magic and some problems that are frankly very bizarre.”

Before any of them could ask, Viera put up her hand, “Giant rats. We have a little giant rat problem.” Viera waited for them to respond with another of oohs before she continued, “But before we talk about that, let’s head to town so I can tell you all about them?”