Finally, after a few minutes weaving through the winding paths that led from the outskirts, the two brothers arrived at the village market. The lively sounds of daily life greeted them like an old friend. Merchants shouted out their wares, voices rising and falling in a familiar rhythm. The clatter of wooden carts and the jingling of coins filled the air. The smell of fresh bread mixed with faint hints of herbs and smoke from cooking fires.
Faera and Edmund's goal was clear. They needed water and dried meat for their journey ahead. Without hesitation, they headed straight to the only tavern in the village, a small, weathered building with peeling paint and a faded sign swinging in the breeze. The tavern's door creaked as they pushed it open.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of cheap wine and stale beer. The faint, sour smell clung to the wooden beams and rough tables.
Faera's nose twitched slightly but he remained calm. The dim light barely illuminated the few patrons hunched over their mugs, lost in murmured conversations or silent brooding.
He approached the bar where the bartender stood, a large, meaty man whose belly strained against his stained shirt. His face was round and flushed, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. The man looked up and gave a clear, steady voice.
"I need three kilograms of dried meat and two large water skins."
"Right away, sir," the bartender replied, wiping his hands on his apron.
Faera quietly reached into the pocket of his black cotton trousers. He pulled out ten pounds in worn coins, the metal cool against his fingers. The bartender counted the money with a practiced eye and nodded. Soon, the dried meat, dark and leathery, and the heavy water skins were placed carefully on the counter.
Faera handed over the coins and exchanged a brief nod with the bartender. Without drawing attention, the brothers slipped out of the tavern.
The market bustled more intensely now, the afternoon sun casting long shadows that stretched across the dusty ground. Stalls overflowed with colorful fruits, vegetables, and handmade trinkets. The scent of freshly baked goods beckoned them toward a simple restaurant with a faded wooden sign swinging lazily in the breeze.
Curious, they stopped. The restaurant sold fresh apple pies, their golden crusts steaming gently in the open air. The smell was irresistible, sweet and warm.
Each brother took three pies, savoring the first bites as they settled into the restaurant's outdoor wooden chairs. The crust crumbled perfectly, the sweet apple filling tangy with a hint of cinnamon. For a brief moment, the world seemed lighter, the weight of their mission eased by this small indulgence.
Then, a sudden shift broke the calm. Their expressions grew serious. Something in the air prickled their senses, a presence, subtle but unmistakable. An aura flared nearby, powerful and dangerous. Faera's brows furrowed as he scanned the sky.
They sensed the aura of an middle third rank mage.
The market noises dimmed behind their heightened awareness. The two brothers stopped eating, eyes locking on a figure soaring above the village. It was a young man clad in blue robes, his garments stained with traces of dried blood. He moved swiftly, almost gliding, casting fleeting glances down below.
Edmund's voice was low but steady as he addressed his older brother. "Is it possible that he is a follower of the person who killed Father?"
Faera shook his head quietly, eyes never leaving the figure. "No, he's not emitting a stable aura. He must be that crazy mage the guards talked about."
The young mage seemed to sense their gaze. His movements faltered, and suddenly he turned his sharp eyes toward them. The air tensed. In that instant, Faera and Edmund could feel the weight of magic pressing outward, a raw energy unstable but potent.
Then, just as quickly as he appeared, the mage vanished from sight, disappearing into the sky like a shadow swallowed by the clouds.
Edmund exhaled slowly, relief evident in his voice. "Fortunately, he is not crazy enough to face two mages stronger than him."
Faera nodded calmly, letting the tension ebb from his shoulders. He glanced at the pies left untouched on the table between their chairs.
"Let's take our food and leave," he suggested. "We don't want to attract any more attention."
Edmund agreed silently, gathering the remaining pies with care. They rose from the chairs, their movements deliberate and quiet. The crowd around them seemed oblivious to the momentary confrontation that had passed above.
Without a word, the brothers slipped out of the village. Once beyond the bustle and noise, they took to the sky, the air cool against their skin as they soared upward. The village shrank beneath them, the familiar buildings and market stalls becoming small dots on the earth.
As they traveled again, Faera's mind raced. 'That mage's appearance was no coincidence,' he thought. 'This place is stirring with more danger than we realized.'
Edmund flew close beside his brother, their silent bond stronger than any words.
---
After about half an hour of tense silence, Faera leaned closer and whispered almost inaudibly, "Do you feel it too?"
Edmund's eyes flicked toward the dense treeline behind them. The subtle shift in the atmosphere, the faint ripple in the air, it was there. He nodded quietly.
"He's already been following us for some time," Edmund confirmed, voice low. "Should we confront him?"
Faera shook his head slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "We still have not mastered the use and casting of third rank spells," he said, his tone measured but firm. "So we will undoubtedly be weaker than him."
The weight of those words hung heavily between them. Both brothers knew the dangers of rushing into a fight they could not win. Patience and preparation would be their greatest allies now.
Then Faera reached into the ring and quietly tossed another smaller space ring toward Edmund.
"These are the spells your father left for you," Faera said softly, his voice almost reverent. "Try to understand them quickly. Prepare the spells in your Mind Palace. When you finish, tell me calmly."
Edmund caught the ring deftly, feeling the cool metal pulse faintly in his palm. The legacy of his father, the knowledge passed down like a whispered promise, was now in his hands.
He nodded calmly and settled into the rhythmic focus required. His mind began to sift through the thousands of spells stored within. Elements he felt naturally drawn to surfaced first: Gravity and Fire. He could almost feel the subtle energy of gravity twisting and bending around him, the fierce warmth of fire flickering within his soul.
Time slipped by in a blur as he concentrated, his breath steady, heart steady. After about an hour, a sense of clarity blossomed inside him. He had understood about twenty spells well enough to create them in his Mind Palace.
"I have finished," Edmund said quietly, his voice steady, almost serene.
Faera gave a slight nod, his eyes sharp yet calm. He had done the same, absorbing forty spells, focusing on Water and Time. The air around them thickened with latent power.
Finally, both brothers stopped flying. The forest beneath them stretched wide, the villages nearby bathed in the golden hues of fading daylight.
Faera's voice broke the silence, loud and clear: "Get out. We already know that you were following us."
Suddenly, as if a heavy lid had been lifted from the sky, the strange man appeared above the place. His form shimmered into existence like a mirage, sharp and clear.
"So you've already discovered me, huh," the man said, his voice harsh and sharp, like iron scraping against iron. There was a cruel amusement in his tone. "I didn't expect you to have such good investigative methods."
Within moments, the sky beside the brothers was filled with dozens of great fireballs, each burning fiercely, illuminating the darkening clouds. Luxurious fire shields sprang up around their bodies, crackling with energy.
The magician raised his hands slowly, his expression turning almost resigned. "I am not a match for two people of the late third rank," he admitted quietly. "But I just wanted to follow your path and perhaps gain some benefits. Since you have already discovered me, I will leave, if you please."
Faera hummed slightly, his gaze never leaving the magician. There was no malice, only sharp clarity. "You have advanced through questionable paths," he said calmly. "Your aura is unstable. You may die at any moment."
Faera's eyes narrowed. "You must be running away from some family or from some organization."
The magician's lips twisted into a fleeting smile, but Faera pressed on. "In your state, you will not survive the chase for long. So you wanted to use us as cannon fodder, getting close to us and making it appear that we are with you. Aren't I right?"
A trace of shock flickered across the magician's face, quickly replaced by laughter. He clapped his hands together loudly, the sound echoing unnervingly through the empty air.
"Wow, very cool," he said, voice dripping with ironic amusement. "How wonderful your analysis is, young man."
He chuckled, a sound both wild and unsettling. "You've already exposed this old man, haha."
Edmund's fists clenched at his sides, the fire within him simmering with restrained anger. Faera's steady presence beside him was a balm to his nerves.
'Who is this man?' Edmund wondered. 'What tangled webs bind him so tightly? And why did he choose to follow us?'
The magician's eyes gleamed with a strange light, a mixture of madness and desperation. There was something raw beneath his bravado, a crack in the armor he so carefully wore.
Faera shifted his stance slightly, the faint glow of his own magic radiating outward. "We don't want to fight you," he said steadily. "But we will protect ourselves if we must."
The magician's laughter died down, replaced by a slow, sardonic smile. "Protection, huh? Such a noble word for such fragile things."
The brothers exchanged a brief glance, the unspoken agreement clear: this encounter was far from over.