Vahl opened his eyes. Slowly at first and then once light prickled his retinas, the eyelids shot open.

  The fluorescent glow emanated through the bars on the coffin window. This allowed Vahl to easily unlock the mnemonic lock he set beforehand without stumbling.

  A group of staff personnel rushed into the room as if he had set off some sort of alarm.

  Mnemonic locks were reliable, but some possessed could break through the coffin nonetheless.

  Vahl was sitting still while the doctors measured his status. The images from the dream realm were replaying before his eyes. The long winding corridors composed of pale bones and the nightmares he fought against.

  "So troublesome".

  Perhaps what bothered Vahl the most was the vision of his parents’ death. What the investigators told him was true. There was no conspiracy to it. His parents were simply careless, and they got possessed. The scrying is known to be absolute. The visions it shows you are always true, albeit subject to interpretation. Still, it would take quite a twist for Vahl to deny what he saw.

  A conspiracy being involved might have been easier. There would be a clear target. Someone to blame.

  “I can’t blame the dreamworld.”

  The doors to the room blasted open, and the Adjutant made his way toward Vahl. This disrupted his train of thought, and he looked up to face the balding man.

  “I knew that you were going to succeed. The Louviels were always tough.”

  The man adjusted his tophat and offered Vahl his gloved hand while brandishing a cheerful smile.

  “Thank you for the compliment,” Vahl said as he took his hand.

  “It occurred to me that I should gift you something. Surviving a trial is not guaranteed. It shows you are not like the other fifty percent.”

  The man took out a wooden case and handed it to Vahl.

  “I don’t usually give out gifts like these, but I somewhat knew your father, so this is the least I can do.”

  Vahl didn’t truly believe that explanation. It felt like the Adjutant was trying to get into his good graces. What for, Vahl was not sure.

  Regardless of the motive behind the gift, Vahl was happy to accept it.

  He opened the case, and the lights shone upon a mastercrafted revolver. Golden flourishes and embellishments reflected the fluorescent shine. The cylinder had six chambers of a high caliber. The barrel was long and decorated with a golden rim, and the hammer similarly bore a few golden flourishes. It was a double action six shooter of considerable power.

  “As an arcanist, you have the right to bear arms and openly carry them. So I thought such a gift would be appropriate,” the Adjutant continued with his exposition.

  “I thank you greatly for this wonderful gift, Vir…”

  “It seems I forgot to introduce myself. I am Arcanist Sigurd An Bluefell.”

  “Thank you, Vir Sigurd!”

  “Just call me Sigurd. After all, your father called me the same.”

  Vahl left the administrative building after acquiring the necessary documents. It was time for him to honor his promise.

  He rode a train to his apartment, where he checked with the reception desk for any missed calls. It turns out Drew had not forgotten about their conversation and had left a date and a place.

  Conveniently, the time was such that Vahl could easily get to the spot and would’t have to excuse himself.

  The location was called the Arch Plaza. It was a grand, open expanse paved with cobblestone, dominated at its center by a gilded statue of King Arch, father to the current reigning king. The statue itself was supported, rather comically, by a small ornamental building with pronounced arches. Its pillars were flanked by artisan marble statues of young girls posing with pots that doubled as water fountains, spilling crystal-clear water into shallow basins that ringed the structure.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The plaza could be entered from four wide streets, each aligned to one of the cardinal directions. Arriving from the south, Vahl gawked at the High Royalist buildings that framed the square, their ground floors occupied by boutique stores and intimate cafes.

  All manner of people moved through the space, yet it was undeniable that the majority of the crowd was composed of affluent women who had come to shop and socialise.

  It was perhaps the comedic genius, or foresightful wisdom, of the late king to have commissioned those marble likenesses of young women resembling his own daughters, as though he had foreseen exactly what kind of life the plaza would one day attract. The notion was not so far-fetched. After all, Arch Ar Kozmos was the man who had single-handedly unified the entire continent. He must surely have possessed a remarkable mind.

  When Vahl approached the statues, he finally noticed Drew waving at him. He was sitting at a table under the sign: “Halifax Cafe”.

  The place was quite tiny, featuring only three tables in a black and gold aesthetic. The storefront was of similar colors with a black awning extended over the tables to protect the customers from the scorching sun.

  Vahl sat down at a spot opposite Drew. It seemed like he had picked a more casual brown colour palette for this meeting. A dark leather jacket, khaki pants, and a simple golden medal with a red scarf were the adornments of choice.

  Vahl had to mentally applaud his style, especially since he was still wearing the clothes from before.

  “Hello, my friend. I am glad you made it out of the trial. You were asleep for such a long time that I began to worry,” Drew started the conversation with a smile.

  “Yes, I barely made it out alive. We must celebrate the occasion.”

  The waiter presented the menu to both men.

  Vahl wondered whether it would be appropriate to order kelp soda. Many old families look down on it, seeing it as a common person’s beverage and instead prefer coffee or herbal tea. Stimulants and poisons like alcohol have such negligible effects on arcanists that these affluent people tend to pick their beverages on the basis of price and trend.

  “I’ll have a cake and some kelp soda,” Drew boldly proclaimed.

  ‘I guess I was overthinking this,’ Vahl lampooned and proceeded to order the same.

  “You’re not afraid to order such a drink?” Vahl asked.

  “Well, I don’t care much about such opinions. If you think I am acting like a dreamless then I won’t take it as an insult. My older brothers are dreamless, and they’re fine people.”

  “Does that mean you’re a…”

  Drew immediately cut Vahl off: “I am not a bastard child. Our family has some noble blood from the pre-Unification days. I think that one of the Fyren family’s daughters was married into the family, but I don’t know the real history behind the event.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply anything,” Vahl tried to save face.

  “Of course,” Drew cheerfully laughed.

  Vahl found it a little hard to feel the same positive mood as Drew. The memories of the trial still lingered in his mind.

  “Do you ever wonder whether the lives of the dreamless are happier than ours?” Vahl asked without much thought.

  It was only after he had asked the question that he realised how insensitive it was.

  However, Drew didn’t seem to mind: “Unless you’re very ambitious, it’s fine. I can tell you that in our Merchant Union, the dreamless all have nice apartments, wives, and free transportation to wherever their job site is.”

  “Your father owns the Heavenly Fire Merchant Union, right?”

  “He doesn’t truly own it. He simply controls it. It is a hereditary position, which is why my father hoped his first son wouldn’t be born as a dreamless, but such is luck: you cannot have everything. The people who actually own the Union are the stockholders and the dreamless who work there. Each profession has its own syndicate, and the syndicate chiefs tend to own most of the incorporated businesses.”

  “That sounds very complex.”

  “My father likes to say that he’s a propagandist on even days and an accountant on odd days.”

  Vahl sipped some of the soda and decided to lay out his problem: “You’ve been very honest so far, and I appreciate that. See, I am the last of my family line, and I would like to at least maintain my standing. That’s why I decided to take the trial. I felt like taking suppressants for the rest of my life wasn’t a viable option.”

  Drew finished chewing his piece of cake and answered: “It’s the exact opposite for me. As I became older, my father stopped caring about me so much. He undoubtedly thinks that I will not follow his lead after becoming an arcanist. Now that I actually am one, any position at the Merchant Union is outside of my grasp.”

  ‘Well, my parents are dead, and I am barely solvent, so it’s hard for me to relate,’ was what Vahl thought but decided to omit from the conversation. It would have only soured it.

  “So are you also going to Aldwin’s Academy?” Vahl decided to steer the conversation in a more pleasant direction.

  “Of course. It’s the best academy in the capital. In fact, now that you have mentioned it, I remembered an issue that I was supposed to deal with before the academy starts. Would you care to listen?”