Lucas stood before the entrance of the Oakhaven Branch of the Silver-Thread Bank. The building was a curious mix of ancient stone and brass gears, with a large, glowing crystal clock embedded above the doors. He adjusted his collar, hiding the soot-stained edges of his robes.
He was banking on a gamble. In the Wingshton Empire, communication was fast, but it wasn't instantaneous. They used Mana-Vines—long, underground fungal networks that could carry voice and data—but a remote village like Oakhaven was often the last to receive updates from the capital.
"I hope the news of the 'fall' hasn't traveled as fast as the fire," Lucas whispered.
Inside, the bank smelled of old paper and ozone. He approached the teller, a thin man wearing magnifying goggles. Lucas slid his Morningstar identification jade across the counter.
"I'd like to close my personal account and move the balance to a new, anonymous Starlight Vault," Lucas said, his voice steady.
The teller checked the jade. "Master Lucas Morningstar? One moment." The man placed the jade onto a brass plate. Gears whirred, and a small puff of steam escaped the machine. "Everything is in order. Your personal savings total 10,000,000 Aurum. Would you like that in physical coins or a transfer stone?"
Lucas felt a wave of relief so strong he nearly sagged. Silas had been so focused on the manor and the title that he hadn't frozen the peripheral accounts yet. "Transfer it to a new, non-traceable account under the name 'Lucan.' I'll take a thousand Aurum in physical coins for travel."
With his new wealth secured, Lucas felt a bit of the heavy weight lift from his shoulders. Ten million Aurum was enough to live comfortably for years, or, more importantly, to buy the resources he needed to grow strong.
Lucas headed to the village's transport hub, the Avian & Land Station. Huge, flightless birds with thick legs and blue feathers were being saddled, but the price for a solo rental was steep, and the birds looked temperamental.
Near the back of the station, a large, heavy carriage pulled by two Iron-Hoof Stallions caught his eye. These horses were massive, with naturally metallic plating on their legs and manes that looked like spun silver. A man in a merchant's coat was checking the harness, looking stressed.
"Heading to Aethelgard?" Lucas asked, approaching with Moxie hidden in his hood.
The merchant, a portly man named Master Tolman, looked Lucas up and down. "I am. But I'm short a guard. My last one decided the local tavern was better than the road."
"I'm no guard," Lucas said honestly, "but I'm a traveler who can pay his way and keep a watch at night."
Tolman grunted, looking at the fine quality of Lucas's dusty clothes. "You look like a noble brat running away from a marriage. But you've got honest eyes. Pay me fifty Aurum, and you can sit up front with my driver, Bram."
Lucas agreed, and soon the heavy carriage was rumbling away from Oakhaven, leaving the white dust of the Desolation behind for the rolling gold hills of the Veridian Marches.
The journey was slow but peaceful. Bram, the driver, was a man of many stories. He had spent thirty years driving carriages across the continent and knew every beast that crawled or flew.
"See those holes in the hills?" Bram said, pointing his whip toward a series of burrows. "Those belong to Echo-Badgers. If you scream near 'em, they'll mimic the sound ten times louder back at ya. Many a thief has been caught because they tripped and cursed near a badger hole."
Lucas laughed, the sound feeling foreign in his chest. "And what about the felines? Have you seen Wisdom Felines surpass the Bronze grade?"
Master Tolman, who was leaning out of the carriage window, chimed in. "Rarely, lad. They're smart, sure. I once knew a cat that could balance a merchant's books better than a human. But for combat? Their mana cores are just too brittle. They're built for thinking, not for the soul-burn of a high-level contract."
Lucas glanced down at his tunic. He could feel Moxie's warmth. Within his Sea of Consciousness, the black energy from his hidden Grimoire was still working. It was a silent, invisible surgery, stitching Moxie's fractured core with dark, unbreakable threads.
"Every beast has its potential," Lucas said quietly. "Sometimes the world just doesn't know how to look for it."
Tolman smiled, liking the boy's spirit. "I like that. Most young Spiritas are so obsessed with Dragons and Phoenixes they forget that a clever rat can kill a sleeping lion."
Over the next two days, Lucas helped Bram with the horses and shared his rations with Tolman. He didn't act like a "Young Master," which clearly impressed the merchant. They spoke of the Aethelgard Spiritas Guild and the legendary Crystal Library where Lucas hoped to find answers about his "Unknown" grade Grimoire.
As the crystalline spires of Aethelgard finally appeared on the horizon, shimmering like a mirage under the afternoon sun, the carriage came to a stop at the city's outer gates.
"Well, Lucan—or whatever your real name is," Tolman said, stepping down from the carriage. He reached into his vest and pulled out a heavy, copper-colored medallion engraved with a soaring hawk. "You've been good company. Most boys of your standing are too proud to help a merchant grease a wagon wheel."
He pressed the medallion into Lucas's hand.
"This is the Tolman Trade Token. My shop is in the Southern District of Aethelgard. If you ever need gear, spirit stones, or even just a place to hide for a night, bring this. It'll get you a forty percent discount on anything I own, and a direct line to my ear."
Lucas felt a genuine warmth. "Thank you, Master Tolman. I won't forget this."
"I have a feeling I'm the one who should be saying that," Tolman said with a wink. "A boy traveling alone with your eyes... you're going to be a name everyone knows soon enough. Just try not to forget the humble merchants when you're a High Spiritas, eh?"
With a wave, the carriage moved into the city's bustling traffic. Lucas stood at the gate of Aethelgard, the medallion in one hand and his Grimoire hidden in the other. He took a deep breath.
The village was behind him. The tragedy was a scar on his soul. But here, in the city of glass and magic, the Last Morningstar would finally begin to grow.
"Ready, Moxie?"
A small, confident meow came from his tunic. The kitten's eyes were glowing with a new, healthy intensity. Together, they stepped into the city.