The order came from the Master.
We were to live in Rucksal under the supervision of Elder Duvent.
He was the leader of the library ring.
It was time to leave the hideout.
Packing was a quiet affair.
My fingers moved with precision through my belongings.
I checked the edge of my greatsword three times.
I needed to be sure.
The group was being split apart.
Robert and Margaretha had their own path.
Theo, Agni, Pritha, and I had ours.
The loss of the unit felt like a tactical error.
I tightened the straps of my pack until the leather groaned.
Creeeeak.
The sound of the door opening made me pause.
Robert stood there.
His expression was a slate of cold grey.
He simply nodded once.
"Don't get soft," Robert said.
"I won't," I replied.
His silver mana signature was steady and heavy.
He turned and walked toward his new duty without another word.
Margaretha followed him a moment later.
She adjusted her cloak, her eyes scanning the horizon.
"Try not to miss me too much, Rick," she said with a forced smile.
She didn't wait for an answer.
We watched them disappear.
Growth demanded sacrifice, and the group was the first thing on the altar.
I focused on the cold air in my lungs.
Sadness was a vulnerability I couldn't afford.
As we prepared to move, I saw Spiro.
Ten new children stood behind him in a ragged line.
Their eyes were wide and wet.
They looked like prey.
Shuffff.
They shifted their feet in the dirt.
I looked at them and saw two categories.
The ones who would break.
The ones who would die.
I didn't feel the weight of it yet.
The processing would come later, in the dark.
For now, they were just numbers in a ledger.
I hoped they would find a way to stay sane.
***
The journey to Rucksal City took two days.
We joined a merchant caravan organized by Elder Patriakis.
The horses moved with a dull, rhythmic thudding.
The road was quiet, and the air was freezing.
No bandits appeared.
No monster attacking.
No accidents occurred.
The lack of conflict felt like a trap.
On the afternoon of the second day, the gates appeared.
Rucksal was a sprawling fortress of stone.
It was larger than Entrée Village, but smaller than Paris.
It belonged to Count Ardyn of the Dwayna Dukedom.
We passed through the gates with our false identities.
The guards were lazy.
They didn't check the hidden seams of our coats.
Clack. The sound of the gate closing behind us felt final.
We moved through the market toward the quiet corners of the city.
That was where the Fated Bookstore stood.
It was an unassuming building, smelling of old paper.
Elder Duvent, Margaretha's grandfather, was waiting.
He was calm and slow.
I focused my eyes to sense the surroundings.
The world stuttered and slowed down.
Whirrrrr.
Mana ribbons exploded into my vision.
His signature was a dense, light green vortex.
So this is Level 7 mana density.
He was a dangerous old man.
"Welcome," Elder Duvent said.
His voice was like smooth water.
"The rooms are on the second floor."
"Understood," I replied.
The first floor was a labyrinth of books.
Ancient tomes and maps lined the walls.
I memorized the exit points and the window latches.
I checked the floor for pressure plates.
***
The next day was a day of rest.
We walked through the city like common travelers.
The central square had a fountain with a stone statue of a hero.
The hero looked proud and useless.
The market was loud.
Adventurers and merchants haggled over subpar steel.
The noble district was to the north.
The slums were to the south.
"One silver... please..."
A child reached out toward Pritha.
He was thin, his mana signature flickering like a dying candle.
Pritha stopped immediately.
Chink.
She pulled a gold coin from her pouch.
She pressed it into the boy's dirty hand.
The boy's eyes widened with a desperate, glowing joy.
"Why?" I asked.
I didn't understand the waste of resources.
"Because we are lucky," Pritha whispered.
"Without Master, we would be begging."
"Or dead," Theo added.
Theo kicked a pebble across the cobblestones.
"The Empire will kill us first if the master does not save us," he said.
He tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow.
I didn't answer because they were right.
Thirty-nine children approached us that evening.
We took turns handing out coins.
I spent nine gold pieces.
I watched their happiness with a strange feeling in my chest.
A child's joy was a fragile thing.
It was a variable that didn't fit my calculations.
We gave to the children, but ignored the adults beggar.
They were unworthy.
***
That night, we ate with Elder Duvent.
The food was warm, and the shop was quiet.
Elder Duvent was a patient listener.
He answered every question I had about mana theory.
"Margaretha spoke highly of you," Elder Duvent said.
"She called you her choice of family."
"She is a capable teammate," I replied.
"Thank you for being her friends," he said.
"Hey Gramps, does the wind ever blow your hair off?" Theo asked.
He was grinning, trying to break the tension.
"Only when I'm trying to impress a lady," Duvent chuckled.
Even Agni sat still, watching the old man.
Pritha sat close to him, leaning against his arm.
She was warming up to him.
I kept my distance.
I watched his hands.
"So, have you killed someone yet?" Elder Duvent asked softly.
"We killed many bandits before," Agni answered as if it was nothing
"And countless gamblers in Paric City," I said.
The word was a cold blade in the air.
The Elder went silent.
The sadness in his mana signature began to swirl.
It was a heavy, suffocating grey.
He looked at us with pity.
I felt a sharp spike in my chest.
Flassssh. I remembered Elder from my village.
He used to sit exactly like this in the village center.
He used to tell me our eyes were for seeing the future, not for killing.
"Don't look at us like that," I said.
My voice was sharp.
"We are weapons. We do what is necessary."
The Elder didn't turn away.
"I see," he whispered.
"Then I will make sure the jobs you take are the right ones."
He looked at his hands.
He looked like a man watching a storm he couldn't stop.
I stared at the flickering lamp on the table.
The light was shaking.
I was eight years old.
I was an assassin.
I pushed the memory of the Elder into the dark.
I pushed the pity of Elder Duvent away.
I was Rick Avenir.
I would have my revenge.
***
Step. Step. Step.
I walked to my room.
The stairs groaned.
I checked my blade one last time.
The city of Rucksal slept.
I did not.
I watched the door.
I waited for the morning.