I'm a firm believer that the more a creature knows when it is born, the stupider it is. Take a look at a deer. They can stand and walk within minutes of birth, but no deer has solved differential equations like any of you.

  -Guest lecturer Silas Norgard on Complexity Theory 401 at Ashbourne College

  Upon the frosted crags of the wild lands, where the trees cried in silence and the moon applauded the creatures of the night, a cloaked figure stalked. Frost hung in the air, yet refused to approach the faceless figure. Warmth instead hugged him. Kept close through a sheer effort of pure will. The resulting auric field caused heat distortions on its periphery but the man ignored the little wisps of air flitting around him.

  "Silas?"

  The thaumic pressure increased with every step up the mountain, and before too long, the monster became wise to his hunter's presence. The grand beast rose from its den, slinking its sinuous neck from deep within the dark. The two met eyes, and for a brief moment, the air sparked as their wills clashed fearsomely.

  "Silas!"

  "Huh! Wha—what. What?"

  I jumped up, blinking rapidly, as the fantasy faded. Miss Kemira was squatting before me, a look of faint concern on her face as she touched my shoulder with a cold hand. Around me, a dozen other children somewhere between the ages of four and seven were looking at me with various expressions ranging from amusement to disinterest.

  "Are you alright, Silas? You fell asleep on us," Miss Kemira said kindly.

  I rubbed my eye, taking a moment to take in the colorful walls of the daycare. A pulse pounding headache throbbed through my skull, settling somewhere at the base of my neck where my dorsal braid sprouted. The hyper sensitive appendage was growing a third strand, and the whole process was even more miserably painful than the first time it had happened.

  "I'm okay," I smiled at Miss Kemira, modulating my aura to convey the expression to the alten woman. "Don't worry about me."

  "Alright, dear. Perhaps it would help if you participated? Can you read this word for us?"

  I glanced at the 'lesson', and forced myself to suppress the rising sigh. We were having a vocabulary lesson. Notably, a level of vocab I'd mastered years ago. Three years ago to be precise. I carefully read out the word and described what it meant. Then I promptly distanced myself from the lesson by tilting my stupid little cap—ostensibly worn to hide my growing braid—over my brows.

  I tried to pull up my daydream again, but the fleeting images struggled to form. I didn't even remember where I was going with the dream. Something about a monster. A fight. Not that I ever did any fighting. I didn't think I had the stomach for the violence to be honest. Unlike Akira.

  Naturally, Miss Kemira completely ruined any hope of continuing my daydream by picking on me again. Why? Because she was a giant git.

  That wasn't fair.

  She probably didn't like how I was slumped, with my eyes zoned out and ignoring the other children. They'd advanced to the riveting activity of 'free play'. Forgive me for not being enamored.

  I had better things to do. I'd been keeping up with my training for years, and my will was starting to become truly monstrous. Surprisingly, there were still adults who were casually stronger than me. Namely, Sakra. Though I suppose comparing myself to her wasn't exactly fair. She spent seemingly all her time brutalizing dangerous monsters in the hinterlands.

  She was the reason I was here in Chikarun. Or rather, her absence. We'd built ourselves a comfortable existence in my home village of Brook End, but eventually, trouble with spawned monsters brought Sakra back to civilization. She then proceeded to bonk the monsters until they went away.

  The first time it happened, people had gotten weirdly nervous, and I realized that Sakra was providing some sort of protection to me and Akira. Momo the drider had clung to me the entire duration of her absence—despite his distaste for babysitting—and only stepped away once Sakra returned.

  It took three more of these work calls, before Akira complained loudly enough that our parents collectively decided to take a trip to the big city. The city was cool, but calling Chikarun a 'big' city was slightly disingenuous. The place had at most thirty thousand people living within the oversized curtain walls. Oh, don't get me wrong. It's a lovely place.

  Very quaint.

  "Silas, dear?" Miss Kemira's voice jolted me out of my musings. "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing!" I squeaked, then immediately scowled that she'd managed to surprise me.

  "Well, how about you come play with the others?"

  She phrased it like a question even though it really wasn't. I found myself surrounded by three other five year old boys who all greeted me hesitantly. They were playing a game of make believe with wooden figurines. Something that involved a lot of banging and proud declarations of intent.

  I made a token effort, then quickly retreated into my core. None of the kids seemed to mind.

  I occupied myself with sub-core manipulations. I wasn't allowed to cast spells in public while in Chikarun; something about staying inconspicuous. Thankfully, no one could see or sense the almost dancelike, flowing patterns I created underneath my skin. My aura was just too bright for them to notice, and the activity offered a relief from the isolation.

  I pulled a microscopic thread of mana from my core, then immediately reversed its direction. Instead of going outwards, I pulled it in. The thread entered my deep core, where mana behaved more like tar than volatile electrically charged gas. That actually made my routine more difficult, but I relished the challenge.

  The first step of the Dance of the Moon Fairy was fairly rudimentary. Simply involving forming three concentric mana spirals around my core. Once the threads were in position, I closed my eyes. The three threads floated inside me, rippling and pulsing as I wove them over each other while making sure they didn't touch.

  I came up with the name and the routine myself. It was supposed to be a training regimen to improve my projection skills, but had since morphed into something more. The name didn't really have a meaning. I just liked the sound of it. Despite that, the name fit like a glove. The Dance was at once mystically complex and distinctly serene.

  Once I'd stabilized the three strands, I added a fourth spiral. The helices rolled over each other in my mind's eye, impossibly complex and invisible to my arcane senses. I was forced to navigate the complexity purely through the rough feedback my will granted me.

  My myliria—as the layer of glittering scales on my neck was called—couldn't see my efforts, and not just because I couldn't tilt my chin down far enough. My aura’s glow blinded me just as much as everyone else.

  Unfortunately, I'd barely had time to add the fifth strand before Miss Kemira attacked. She gathered all the children and herded them into a large circle in the center of the play area. A long rope was pulled out of a cabinet, and Miss Kemira tied it into a large, loose knot before our eyes. Then, with a faint smile, she attached the rope to each kid's wrist by a thin length of ribbon and encouraged them to reinforce the connection with their wills.

  Our task was to untie the monolithic knot, a process that inevitably devolved into shrieking and laughing as kids climbed over each. I understood what was happening here. This was supposed to be an introductory lesson in spell craft. Knotting and unknotting the threads of mana was a necessary skill in creating spells.

  I found the exercise dreadfully easy.

  I hadn't always been good at visualizing and mentally untangling knots. It was my hours and hours of auric manipulation over the last half decade that had granted me an instinctive understanding of knots. In fact, my ability currently vastly outstripped my aptitude at imagining escapist fantasies.

  What made it worse was that the loud, awkward maneuvering made it impossible for me to resume the actually gorgeous and complex weave I'd had flowing around my core moments prior.

  So I was forced to play along, tied to children and yanked around like a grumpy marionette as I realized none of these children could understand magic as I did. It wasn't really their fault, but I still wondered: Why play with rope, when you could play with actual mana? Mana was both more rewarding, more beautiful, more practical, and... and... It was just better, wasn't it?

  Obviously, I wasn't blind to the reason why these children played with rope and not with mana. The technical skill required to maintain and pass around a length of mana between mages was immense. These children weren't at that level. Hell, I was only at that level if I fudged the numbers.

  But the other reason why we were doing this was because I was surrounded by kids. The game was a coordination and team building exercise, just like Follow the Leader, or Duck, Duck, Goose. The point was as much learning how to untangle knots as it was to make friends, listen to instructions, and learn how to work together.

  I just didn't need to learn—or relearn—coordination or socialization. I was already an adult. Mentally, at least. Not that Miss Kemira agreed with me. She took personal offense at my lack of enthusiasm and chased me around the room until I grudgingly guided the hopelessly tangled kindergarteners into a semblance of order.

  She was momentarily satisfied by my efforts, though I could tell she was eyeing me more than all the other children combined.

  To say I was tired of being a child was an understatement. It had been cool in a quirky, silly sort of way a few years ago, but by now I was well and truly done with it. I wanted people to treat me seriously, damnit!

  And—if I was being honest—I was tired of pretending to be something I wasn't. I'd never been good at keeping secrets. And this one was starting to grate.

  Thankfully, the whole charade didn't last much longer. The game ended, and we were herded out front where parents collected their children from the daycare. I barely recognized most of the parents, and I was once again reminded by how new this whole thing was. I had a lovely private tutor. I had plenty of free time. But nooo.

  Mom wanted me to 'make friends'.

  Ugh.

  I had friends.

  Rikara and Arthlas, my two babysitters—cough—I mean guards, collected me at the front gate. Rikara peeled off to talk to Miss Kemira, and I pointedly ignored the report given on me, as I bundled myself into the rickshaw.

  "Good afternoon, master Silas. How was your day?" Arthlas asked politely. I eyed him, then glanced at Rikara still talking to Miss Kemira.

  "Fine," I said. My head hurt.

  "Did you learn anything new?" Arthlas leaned against the rickshaw, the image of feigned nonchalance. Honestly. Even a child could tell he was up to something.

  "We played Knot-Unknot," I said, punctuating the statement by unspooling a thin strand of mana around my palm and ripping it apart. The sudden flash of aetheric light caused Arthlas to flinch and the hairs on a passing drider to stand on end. They looked around, but the disturbance was too fast and of too low thaumic flux for them locate the source.

  "You know you aren't supposed to use magic in the streets, master Silas," Arthlas said after a moment.

  "I know," I said sweetly, turning away and leaning my elbow against the other window. I sighed then, silently rebuking myself for taking my frustrations on Arthlas. I might be a child, but I didn't have to act like one.

  "Alrighty then." Arthlas rocked on his heels. Back and forth. He chewed on his lip then spit out the last question on his docket. "Did you make any friends?"

  "No."

  He left it at that. A few minutes later Rikara joined us and shared a glance with Arthlas. He shook his head microscopically, before putting on a false cheer and picking up the rickshaw's pull handles.

  "So, master Silas. To the castle then?"

  "No," I said. "Go to Imira's butchery, please."

  Thankfully, they didn't argue, though they did share another loaded glance that might have raised my hackles if I was a lesser man. Arthlas pulled the rickshaw with Rikara running alongside. Both their auras thrummed with a standard strengthening technique.

  The bell to Imira's butchery chimed softly as I entered. The rich, heady aroma of meats struck me like a physical blow. Raw, cooked, cured, smoked, salted, with the bone, without the bone, Imira had it all. She even sold tallow.

  "If it isn't my favorite customer!" Imira called, stepping around the counter and touching my cheek affectionately.

  "Hi, Imi," I smiled, straightening my cap.

  "Aww," Imira blushed, pinching my cheek. "What can I do for you today?"

  "Could I have a whole cured flank? That one?"

  Imira blinked, and I felt both my babysitters question if they heard correctly.

  "The whole flank?" Imira asked.

  "Yes, please."

  "What are you going to do with that much meat?"

  "It's a secret," I said seriously.

  Imira barked out a laugh and her aura flashed with amusement. "Things are always exciting around you! Just don't get into any trouble, you hear?"

  She pinched my cheek again, and sold me the large slab of meat. I had Rikara carry it as we trundled to the dingy, back side of the market. The rickshaw stopped before an alley where three kids between the ages of nine and thirteen loitered. Jerry, Horus, and the nine year old May.

  Jerry—the oldest—looked up, and his tentacle beard wriggled in greeting.

  Oh, yeah. Jerry was a yawm, the third member species in Chikarun. Yawm were tall, bordering seven feet tall as adults, with dark purple skin and an asymmetrical body plan with a right arm as disproportionately muscular and veiny as a steroid infused body builder. They had no nose or mouth and four eyes. Three on the face, and one massive eyeball on their right shoulder.

  "If it ain't the boss man!" Jerry called out, the words slightly whistly as they came through his hollow beard tentacles. "Bring us anythin' good?"

  "I did," I nodded and Rikara handed the kids the large cured flank. They shot a wary glance at her guard uniform, but then fell on the meat with undisguised hunger. Jerry's feeding was, as always, slightly disturbing. He injected his beard tentacles into the meat, and the stuff sorta just... dissolved.

  "This is great, boss!" Horus nodded eagerly. He and May were driders and their eating habits were more couth. Basically human.

  "Thanks for bringing 'nough for the others," May murmured softly around a big bite.

  "You're welcome," I joined them, but didn't partake myself. They finished relatively quickly, and Jerry produced a big rucksack that he stuffed the food inside. "Is everything going okay? Any news around the city?"

  "Oh, there's news," Jerry smirked.

  "May spotted 'nother Ranger party returnin' past midnight," Horus nodded seriously. He pushed the small girl forward. "They looked pissed."

  I noticed my babysitters stiffen from their spot at the entrance of the alley. I turned to May, whose ears had turned pink.

  "Uhm, yeah. They were beat up and dirty. One of 'em got in an argument with one of the captains. Then they stormed off to the 'racks."

  "Which Ranger was it?" I asked.

  May blinked, glancing at Jerry. "Dunno. The big one?"

  "Was the Ranger an alten?"

  "Oh, yeah, he was."

  So a male alten.

  "What's it matter which Ranger it was?" Jerry cocked his head, twisting his body and training his monolithic, electric blue shoulder eyeball on me. "Rangers comin' back so late like that only means one thing."

  "And that is?" I asked calmly.

  Jerry snorted, but it was Horus who responded. "Probably 'nother monster surge, boss."

  Well isn't that something. There hadn't been a monster surge since before I was born. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Sakra had been gone for two weeks already.

  "Do you know what kind of spawner it is?" I asked next, ignoring the stormy frown on Rikara's aura.

  My three child informants shared a look, then collectively shrugged.

  "The Ranger was pointin' west-ish?" May offered.

  That was the extent of their knowledge. Even after a bit more prodding, they didn't know anything more about the monsters, the spawner, or what the guard was doing about the situation. I wasn't overly worried. If the last few years had taught me anything, it was that Sakra was more than capable of handling this kind of threat. Though I suppose she had gotten injured during the last surge.

  I urged the street kids to try and learn more information regardless. About the monsters, but also about how the general population was reacting to the news. If they were even aware of it at all.

  That was one of the reasons I'd befriended the local street kids. I'd read enough books to have fantasized about organizing a spy organization composed entirely of kids. To my surprise, it really wasn't that hard. Just a little consistent food and they came to me like pigeons.

  The result was almost like a regular newspaper. The conversation morphed into more mundane topics, but I listened just as carefully as before. The kids spoke in rambling tangents, but through them I could understand the pulse of the city. What was happening. To who, and where. It was like a reality show and fairly decent entertainment overall.

  If I didn't consider magic.

  "Master Silas?" Rikara spoke up after a while. "It is getting late."

  I looked up at the sky, then smiled at her. "Thank you, Rikara. Alright, fellas. This was fun, but I got to go. I'll send a message soon with some work. Alright?"

  "Sure thing, boss man," Jerry smirked. At least it sounded like a smirk. Yawm didn't have mouths.

  I nodded at them, then carefully brushed off the dust from my pants and left the alley. Rikara and Arthlas fell in beside me as we walked back to the parked rickshaw right around the corner. The sight must have been fairly odd. A tiny child being escorted by two towering guards in leather armor.

  Just as I rounded the bend, Horus' voice filtered from the alley.

  "What a weirdo." A harsh slap sounded followed by Horus' pained whimper. "Oww, Jerry. That hurt."

  "Shut up, idiot. He can still hear you. Come on. Let's go get this meat back to the others. They must be starved."

  Their pattering footsteps faded into the distance. Arthlas sent me a pitying look which I ruthlessly ignored. I boarded the rickshaw.

  "Are you—"

  "To the castle please, Arthlas," I interrupted him. Looking dead ahead. My aura as calm as a mirrored lake. Of course the kids didn't respect me. I wasn't allowed to use magic around them. They didn't understand. All they saw was a rich kid desperately giving them free stuff to hang out with them.

  Not that it mattered. Information was only one of the reasons why I'd started this project. And it wasn't even the most important one. I didn't need the approval of a few prepubescent children to understand that my goals were worthwhile.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The next day, when Arthlas and Rikara greeted me, I casually told them to take me in the opposite direction of the daycare.

  "Master Silas," Rikara used her best scolding tone on me. Little did she know, I was immune. "You have to go to daycare."

  "I know," I said, bouncing in my seat a little. "Let's go, Arthlas."

  "Silas..." Rikara sighed.

  "Hey, kid. We know that daycare can be hard but once you make a few friends it'll get easier." Arthlas added.

  "Okay," I nodded slowly. "Let's go."

  "To the daycare?"

  "Nope."

  "Silas," Rikara palmed her face. "Why are you being so difficult. Daycare isn't that bad."

  "If you don't want to come with me, I'll just walk."

  "You know we aren't supposed to leave you alone."

  "Then how about this," I smiled sweetly. "If you don't start pulling I'll light up the sky with a big ol' fireball."

  "Don't even think about it," Rikara snapped. When I just lazily met her gaze, her eyes narrowed. "If you do, we'll suppress you."

  Oh? Now things were getting interesting.

  "You think you can stop me?" I grinned and allowed some of my excitement to bleed into my normally placid aura. Both guards hesitated, sharing a nervous glance.

  "...Yes," Rikara eventually said.

  "Really?" My words dripped amusement as my grin widened. I slammed my core circulation to a stop, then rapidly reaccelerated it. The result was an aetheric thump that caused both guards to tense as the pressure wave washed over them. "Wanna bet?"

  "Oookay!" Arthlas stepped between us with raised arms. "How about we don't fight, yeah?" He shot a loaded look at Rikara, who sniffed and looked away. "Silas, can you promise that we'll go to daycare after your errand?"

  I grinned at him.

  It wasn't really that big of a surprise. Arthlas and Rikara were my babysitters. They were supposed to take me to daycare every morning, but their real job was to keep me happy. In other words, not getting into fights with me.

  That didn't stop Rikara from complaining when we arrived at the residential house close to the market and I asked her to help me climb to the roof.

  "Silas..." Rikara sighed. She was doing that a lot today. "Even if you were allowed to use magic. It's illegal to climb somebody else's home."

  I gave her a sardonic look, then confidently marched up to the house's front door. I knocked twice, then turned the knob and pushed the door open. It was unlocked, like it always was.

  "Granny Popi!" I called into the dim home.

  "Silas? Is that you?" A tired old voice came from the living room. Popi was the neighborhood's resident busybody. I liked her. She gave me sweets.

  "Hi!" I called. "Uhm, Granny? Can I climb your roof? I want to see the city."

  "Oh, of course, child. Be careful! And do come over sometime for carpaccio, alright dear?"

  "Okay! I will!" I closed the door then walked up to Rikara who had on a bemused expression. I thrust my hands out and, with childish seriousness, I demanded. "Up!"

  Arthlas snorted, then reached over and picked me up before Rikara's earholes started smoking. "Alright, kid. Don't be mean to us. We are just trying to do our job."

  His aura flared and he scaled the building. He set me down, and I ran to the peak to behold the city. Almost immediately, my gaze was drawn to a scuffle in the market where a child was sprinting between stalls as a red faced drider guard jogged after him.

  Probably one of Jerry's gang.

  How delightfully pertinent.

  I eyed the city, marking down several locations and problems that a gang of street kids could reasonably apply themselves to and solve. Then I climbed down from the house and got to work.

  I walked the block to the market with my two shadows on my heels. At the entrance, I spotted a ten-ish year old drider girl with a bright blue scarf tied around her upper arm. She was shouting into the crowd, offering her services to anyone unfortunate enough to walk by.

  "Excuse me," I said.

  "Messenger service! Messenger—Oh. Hi. Are you looking—Wait! Aren't you that boss kid?"

  "Silas, yeah," I nodded.

  "Huh, cool. I'm Frier. What's up?"

  "I have a message for Jerry. Could you tell him that the snow drifts in Southside are getting kind of out of hand? Tell him to send someone to push them to the sides of the road at least."

  "To Jerry, get rid of the snowdrifts in Southside. Anything else?" Frier repeated.

  "No, that's it. Thanks."

  "No, thank you," Frier grinned, palming the coin I handed her, then sprinting into the market to deliver the message.

  I watched her go, then turned around and headed deeper into the city. Of course, simply telling Jerry to clean the streets was never going to solve anything, not with a shortsighted prick like him in charge. It was only the preliminary part of my plan. The problems his gang caused—namely stealing and degrading the safety of the streets at night—weren't going to disappear overnight, and certainly not through a bit of menial labor meant to occupy the kids.

  Organization helped, though, and the courier service was a stroke of genius that simultaneously improved the city and kept the kids busy at the same time. Best of all, I wasn't the one paying them to run the messages.

  Bluntly, mine was a fiscal problem.

  Unfortunately, despite being ostensibly in direct contact with the lord and lady of the town, I had very little money to my name. I had an allowance, enough for a large flank of meat every once in a while, but the kind of money needed to contract an estimated hundred semi-homeless or otherwise unoccupied children was way beyond that.

  But the solution was fairly simple; it was the same one as the courier initiative. I'd read enough books about this exact situation to know how to handle this. Instead of trying to pay and feed such a large group of children, I would simply have the population do it for me.

  Which is how I found myself in front of the blacksmith's guild. The work was communal here—or I suppose institutionalized—with a large, apartment style living room out front and an archway leading out back to the dozen or so burning forges that supplied the city. It was as easy as breathing to slip between a pair of tired and dirty alten eating lunch. Presumably, this was their break.

  "Hi, I'm Silas. Silas ka Norgard," I said.

  "Ughh, hello master Silas," the first smith said after a moment. "What brings you 'round these parts?"

  "I have a business proposition for you."

  The two glanced at each other, then at my babysitters like, is this kid for real?

  "Ughh, sure? What do you have in mind, sir?"

  "I've got a couple of friends who are interested in smithing, and I'm thinking you guys got a bunch of easy stuff they can help out with. Carrying stuff. Pumping the bellows. Cleaning things. That kind of thing."

  The two smiths shared a look. "We're not really looking for apprentices..."

  "Did I mention that they are willing to work for cheap?"

  The two smiths shared another look.

  I grinned.

  As I dozed through daycare that afternoon, I wondered how much of their easy acceptance of my plan was because of the idea or my name. People had a healthy respect for the lord and lady of the town, and simply bandying around that I was their ward was enough for people to start calling me master Silas this, and sir that. Having my two babysitters loom over the proceedings in their formal guard uniforms certainly didn't hurt either.

  Eventually, I decided it didn't matter why they agreed, so much as that they did. Even Jerry's snarky tone or backhanded compliments didn't bother me as I did another sweep over the following few days. I started seeing noticeable improvements in the health of the city.

  There were significantly fewer thefts, but more importantly, the outlook of the people was slowly changing toward the scruffy children. No longer did they look at them in distrust as they passed a market stall or otherwise. Instead, they were actively sought out to deliver messages, haul trash, or clean up small messes.

  I received a pleasant surprise when I descended to the kitchens for breakfast a few days later.

  "Good morning, Lira. Medlas. Good morning, Silas."

  "Momo!" I gasped. I jumped up from my seat and bum rushed him. Before I took three steps, mana sizzled and a black wall of mana appeared in front of me. I dodged it, only for a black chain to snap around my ankle and flip me upside down. I was entirely unfazed, simply turning my head and grinning at the scowling drider. "You're back!"

  "Indeed, I—Morag the drider—is back, you stubborn brat. Lady Sakra dropped us off late last night. Unfortunately, she had to return immediately to the field."

  Akira appeared behind Momo and waved.

  "Hey people," she said, then gave a huge yawn before slumping at the table.

  "Akira!" I waved. "Did you figure out how Momo is making these chains on your trip?"

  "No," Akira mumbled. "I'm not nearly as annoying as you."

  I pouted, crossing my arms. The image I was going for was slightly undercut by the fact I was upside down and slowly rotating.

  "Please put Silas down, Morag," Mom said. "All of his blood will rise to his head."

  "My apologies, Madam Lira. We can't have Silas' head grow any more than it already is." Momo bowed graciously as he promptly dumped me head-first onto the floor.

  "Oi!" I grumbled, returning to my seat. "Who decided it was 'pick on Silas day'? I didn't hear about this."

  "Not even from your little secret spy network," Momo asked dryly.

  "Spy network?" Akira perked up.

  "It's not a secret," I scowled. "I literally did it in front of your spies."

  Momo placidly took a seat, acting all innocent, but I saw through his facade. It was he who had sicced Arthlas and Rikara on me.

  "We're just teasing, sweetheart," Mom said, bumping me with her braid. Then she turned to Akira. "Welcome back, Akira. Did you enjoy your trip into the wildlands?"

  Akira shrugged, looking down at her plate and pushing her food around. "It was cold. We spent a bunch of time just running around and sleeping in tents. There are these insect monster things digging holes all over the country side but the Rangers killed them all before I could cast anything."

  "I'm sure you will get your chance. If you're not too tired, would you like to come with Silas and me to Gimmlas' birthday party?"

  What. This was news to me.

  "Who?" I asked.

  "Gimmlas, Silas. He's your classmate," Mom gave me a reproachful look.

  Oh. Awkward.

  Turns out, Mom's question wasn't really a request. Akira and I were quickly dragged upstairs and fitted into 'respectable' clothes despite our complaints. Momo the traitor had vanished at some point, and before either of us knew it, we were loaded up into a carriage and on our way into the city.

  We stopped at an unfamiliar house where a smiling mom and an excitable five-year-old I vaguely recognized ushered us in. There was an army inside. Parents lined the walls as a horde of children were packed in the center of the large living room. They were all kneeling before small tables and were gluing bits of colored paper together into something that resembled art.

  Mom and Akira peeled off to join the adults where Akira was immediately assaulted with questions about her trip. I, on the other hand, was summarily abandoned. I was provided a glue bottle, a paintbrush, and a spot in the middle of the throng.

  It was hell.

  I moved the craft materials listlessly as conversation I wasn't interested in and couldn't relate to babbled around me. This wasn't the first time I'd been asked to do age-appropriate tasks. But something about being surrounded by the giggling children made me feel alone. Disconnected.

  Plus my head hurt.

  I shot a glance at Mom. She was hovering next to Akira who was fending off several other adults. Somehow she sensed my gaze and looked up. I gave her a pleading look. She frowned, then flashed her auric expression in a complicated sequence that essentially meant a worried 'try'.

  I scowled down at my hands, somehow feeling even more lonely than before. Mom wanted me to make friends. 'Real' ones. Not Jerry and his gang. I got where she was coming from and was thankful she didn't vocally complain about my side hustle.

  But this was ridiculous. And stupid.

  I had friends.

  I looked up again, this time meeting Akira's gaze.

  Save me, she mouthed. Her eyebrows tightened in the human expression of panic as she somehow managed to keep her auric expression in a tight smile. I grinned, rising to my feet and rushing over to her.

  "Akira! Akira!" I grabbed her arm, interrupting something one of the adults was saying. "I've got to show you something."

  "Surely, Silas this—" Mom started.

  "Nope! Its super urgent. Come on! Come on!" I yanked, and Akira didn't offer much resistance as I pulled her out of the throng of chatting parents. I didn't look back, but I could almost feel the pressure of Mom's gaze between my shoulder blades. My smile widened.

  "Thanks," Akira gasped as the two of us huddled around my craft station. Neither of us paid the paper and glue any mind.

  "Don't thank me just yet," I replied. "Do you have anything interesting to do, because I'm dying over here."

  Akira's eyes flashed. "Look what I learned." She looked around, then cupped her hands and pressed them into my myliria. A teeny tiny spell matrix formed between her hands against the backdrop of her radiant aura.

  "Wow," I murmured, eyes slightly unfocused. "Is that an attack spell?"

  "Third circle," Akira whispered. "Saki taught me during the campaign."

  "What's this part do?"

  "It's a homing function."

  "No way that actually works. How does it figure out which target you intend? Also, how do you power this thing? It's missing regulator sequences."

  "This is actually just the warhead bit," Akira murmured sheepishly, taking her hands off my throat. "I still need a little practice forming the full matrix."

  Suddenly, a commotion drew everyone's attention to the front door. Lord Domas Norgard shook off his coat, giving everyone a pleasant smile as the parents stiffened, or rushed forward to greet him.

  "What's he doing here?" I asked Akira.

  "Who cares," Akira grinned, dragging me to my feet. "He's a distraction. Come on. Let's go!"

  We rushed out of the main room, quickly finding ourselves in a hallway leading to the kitchen with a stairway up. We deliberated for a second, then silently rushed up the stairs and slipped into a kid's bedroom. Probably the kid's room.

  "Freedom!" Akira exclaimed in a delighted whisper. "At last. After years of imprisonment, I am finally free!"

  "You're exaggerating," I said, though I was smiling.

  "I am so not. You would not believe how—What was that?"

  I quirked my head, then both of our heads snapped to the closed door where we could distinctly hear creaking footsteps climbing up the stairs.

  "Quick, hide!" Akira said.

  "Where?" I looked around frantically. There weren't any good spots. The room was packed with junk—sorry, toys. Even the spot under the bed didn't have enough room for me to hide. Let alone Akira's nine year old frame.

  Before either of us could dive for cover, the door snapped open to reveal Mom's glowering silhouette. With almost comical slowness, both of us turned to face her. I tried a smile.

  "Silas!" Mom barked.

  Uh oh.

  "What are you doing up here?"

  "Well—"

  "I thought I told you to participate. Did I not?" Mom talked right over me.

  "Uhm, Madam Lira—" Akira raised a small, hesitant hand.

  "Don't you Madam Lira me. You are just as responsible here. More, given your age. I expect better from you. Both of you. Now. Downstairs!"

  Mom pointed and both of us wilted. We shuffled to the door, but before we could slip by her, Lord Domas appeared at the top of the stairs.

  "Madam Lira, there you are," he greeted her with a wry smile and a nod. "Perhaps I could speak to them. I did come to catch up with my wards, after all."

  "Lord Domas," Mom said. "I would appreciate if—"

  "Just for a moment, I promise," Domas said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll return them to the festivities before you know it."

  "... Alright," Mom said, her aura betraying her distaste of the situation. "Behave, you two."

  She sent us both a look, then calmly descended the stairs. Lord Domas watched her go, then gestured for us to join him in the bedroom. We followed timidly, egos still stinging, as I idly wondered why Domas was undermining Mom's authority like this. It wasn't really like him, though I suppose I didn't really know him that well. He was gone a lot, especially over the last four years. Still, I didn't particularly agree with his actions.

  "So!" Domas clapped his hands, leveling a cheerful grin on both of us. Akira jumped. "You two are the type to run away from a party, huh?"

  "We're sorry, Lord Domas," Akira mumbled, staring at her feet.

  "Relax," Domas chuckled, waving his hand carelessly. "I'm not here to scold you. In fact, I'm on your side."

  He grinned rakishly and I could almost taste the confused hopefulness in Akira's auric expression.

  "Really?"

  "Really, really." Domas nodded firmly. "It is important to keep you happy. You are our next generation after all. I'm thinking of talking to your parents about this whole making friends business. From where I'm standing, it appears like neither of you really need more friends. Especially not ones as untalented and boring as those children down there."

  "Exactly!" Akira gasped. "If they were more interesting, me and Si would totally play with them. But they're not!"

  "You would rather practice the arcane. With each other." Domas gave her a knowing smirk.

  "Yeah! Well. What's wrong with that!" Akira challenged.

  "Nothing wrong with that," Domas shook his head. "In fact it's very admirable. I'm not going to judge you for doing what you love, Akira. We're all friends here. Right, Silas?"

  I blinked. "We're family." Duh.

  Domas' aura hitched, then he burst out in a full belly laugh. "Right you are! I suppose I forget sometimes!"

  Domas reached over and patted my head before I could react. His hand shifted my stupid cap, causing the fabric to rub painfully against my achy dorsal braid. I winced, ducking away, and making ineffectual warding gestures with my hands.

  "Hey! That's not allowed!" Akira yelled. She stepped between us as if to physically stop any further attempts. "Si's braid's growing in. It hurts to touch it!"

  "Oh, I am sorry," Domas said. He looked actually bewildered for a moment. "You must forgive me. I've been away for a while and I forgot. It was not my intention to hurt you."

  "It's okay," I mumbled, as I mentally shoved the headache into a teeny tiny compartment in the back of my skull. I gently prodded the back of my head. Was it me, or was my dorsal braid even more swollen then usual?

  A silence fell over our small group. One that neither Domas or Akira seemed interested in clearing.

  "So, uhm, Domas?" I broke the silence. "Why do you sometimes forget? Is work... hard?"

  "Is work hard... What a question," Domas murmured, then he put on an obviously fake smile. "No, Silas. Being a lord isn't hard, I am very privileged. It is simply... hmm, a different state of mind, I suppose."

  "Oh," I said. I didn't really know what that meant.

  "Can I tell you a story?" Domas' smile grew genuine, and he sat on the carpet. We joined him in a little circle. "Do you know the origin of my name?"

  "I do," Akira perked up.

  "How do you know and I don't?" I turned on her. She stuck her tongue out at me. How very mature.

  Domas chuckled. "It's not some great secret. Have you never wondered why every other alten man has a name ending with -las, while I don't."

  "Not really." To be honest, I hadn't noticed.

  "That's why I like you, Silas." Domas smiled, and his eyes grew distant as he took in a deep breath. "Many, many years ago, back in the capital—"

  "It's 'cause he was exiled, Si," Akira provided helpfully. "It means people were very mean to him and made him go away."

  "Akira!" Domas said. "I was going to tell my story."

  Akira snorted. "Well, sooorry, but I didn't want to fall asleep. Again."

  "Truly, my stories are not that bad," Domas said, bewildered.

  "... could make monsters fall asleep mid charge," Akira mumbled under her breath.

  I looked between the two, amused at the whole situation. Domas' storytelling skills weren't bad. They were just... long-winded.

  "Anyway!" Domas declared. "The point of my story is that that sometimes when you feel like you don't belong, it isn't a 'you' problem, but rather a problem with the environment you find yourself in. And if that's the case, all you need to do is to change your environment."

  Domas grinned with his arms raised like he'd just said something deeply profound.

  Fascinating. I glanced at Akira, then back at Domas. "I think you should have told the full story."

  "And that's a different point than the one you told me!" Akira accused. "That's not allowed. The point of a story can't change willy-nilly like that."

  Domas blinked, then scowled and rose to his feet. "Ungrateful brats, whatever. This is my point. Watch carefully."

  His will thrummed with power and suddenly both Akira and I went perfectly still. He wove a fine tapestry of mana, threading the magic through intricate knots that repeated in a design I wasn't familiar with. Then, he threw the construct up and out. The weave spread, growing thinner and stretching until it formed a large dome around the three of us.

  Domas' will flexed and the mana changed. I blinked, tensing my myliria as suddenly the mana twisted in a way I thought impossible. It sank into the walls, growing invisible to my senses... except. No. Not invisible. Mirrored. Reflective. I suddenly spotted our three auras replicated six times on each wall as vague, distorted blobs of light.

  My smile rose unbidden. This was new.

  "How'd you do that!" Akira jumped to her feet.

  "I'm changing the environment," Lord Domas said calmly. "Now, you said you ran up here to play with the arcane? Feel free to do that as much as you want, my friends. No one will see you. You are also welcome to examine the warding field, but if it falls apart, I'm not going to be able to fix it. I unfortunately have places to be, people to see... the usual."

  "What about mom?" I asked.

  Domas stepped through the open door and Akira and watched curiously as his aura winked out to our senses. He grinned at us from the other side. "I'll speak with her, Silas. Your job is to have fun."

  The door shut with a gentle click.

  Akira immediately ran up to the door and pressed her cheek against the wood. I joined her at a more sedate pace, marveling at how the reflection of my aura fizzled and blurred across the walls as I moved. It was like a mirror of awful quality. There was an insane amount of distortion, but somehow it blocked all the mana coming from the other side despite it itself being made of mana.

  "Oof! It's like one of Morag's stupid puzzles," Akira pouted. "How are we supposed to figure out how it works if we can't see it?"

  "It is really pretty, though," I said. I pressed my throat against the wall and all I got was an eyeful of my own distorted aura. It was actually faintly nauseating.

  "I'll show them," Akira growled, and I felt her will rise up like a snake.

  "Wait! What if you break it?"

  "I'm not going to break it. Why would I break it?" Akira gave me a look like I was the stupid one. "I want to figure out how it works. How can I do that if it's broken?"

  "Well, yeah..." I rolled my eyes. "But what if you make a mistake and break it?"

  "I—" Akira paused. She scowled at me. "That's stupid. I don't make mistakes!"

  Despite that, she reeled her aura back in. Instead of prodding the strange magic with her will, she opened the door and looked at the ward from the other side. Immediately she frowned, prompting me to join her.

  The strange reflective distortion was repeated on the outside of the ward, which was cool, but even standing right in the middle of the barrier, I couldn't tell how the spell was doing what it was doing. I was just receiving a dizzying kaleidoscope of reflected light that I couldn't make heads or tails of.

  "This is dumb." Akira stomped back into the room. We sat there for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's company.

  "Wanna do something else?" I said distractedly, still idly examining the reflections. Akira seemed to think about it, then her expression brightened.

  "Let's dance!" She jumped up, dragging me away from the door and positioning us both in the center of the room. "Look, I've been practicing the Moon Fairy dance!"

  Her will flared and three thin strands of mana manifested around her torso. Immediately, the three strands began a mesmerizing helical spiral and were swiftly joined by a fourth strand. The magic flowed out of her with a level of skill I couldn't hope to match. I was strong, but Akira? She was talented.

  It was beautiful. A scintillating pattern of shifting spirals that caught the eye and made me feel small. Akira spun, trailing her finger through the air in perfect sync with the threads of mana. Suddenly, I was powerfully reminded of a fairy. Dancing beneath the moon for no other reason than she could.

  Akira beamed at me, and her will drew out a fifth strand from her core. She stumbled, and the whole construct trembled on the verge of collapse.

  I stepped up, almost touching her as I nimbly interwove my will with her own. Where she struggled, I reinforced. Where she rushed ahead with childlike exuberance, I stayed steady to maintain the foundation and allow her to dance free.

  "Faster!" Akira cried.

  We separated, and I found that despite my limited ability to dance, I flowed around Akira with a natural ease. She led the dance like she was born to it. The singular internal spiral bifurcated as she added a sixth strand, She tossed three to me as she tightened her grip on the remaining threads.

  I caught them, accelerating them around my core like passing comets that glittered to my metaphysical senses. A laugh escaped me, one that was mirrored by Akira as she nearly tripped over a stuffed animal laying on the ground.

  The ridiculousness of the situation struck me. We were dancing inside of another kid's room under an arcane ward while a birthday party was happening beneath our feet. Somehow, the thought became funny, and my laugh turned into a giggle.

  Akira took that as a challenge and added another thread. I copied her, raising the stakes with one of my own, then the dance collapsed inward.

  Our twin spirals of four excessively long strands merged into a superstructure of rippling mana. I strained, my headache throbbing as I met Akira's concentrated expression. My will flared like the core of a sun, casting thousands of distorted reflections against the mirrored walls as I forced the unruly strands of mana into some semblance of order.

  Our dynamic changed. Where before Akira's natural affinity for the task lent her to leading, now she simply lacked the raw power. I took over, holding the core of the dual layered helices stable as her feather light touch kept the growing monstrosity of mana from slipping from my control.

  "Think we can do one more?" Akira beamed at me.

  "No!" I said.

  She added a ninth strand.

  My headache throbbed, and I felt something pop in the back of my head. I winced, maintaining the chaotic maelstrom of mana for a few more heartbeats before losing control. Akira valiantly tried to hold the spell together, but failed almost instantly. Together we watched as our construct faded into glittering motes of ethereal light that gently ruffled the sheets of the bed.

  We fell on our butts, breathing hard as our glittering eyes tracked the fading mana.

  "Ow..." I mumbled after a minute of just staring at the ceiling.

  "Silas!" Akira gasped, jumping to her feet. "You're bleeding!"

  She rushed to me and forced my head forward. My stupid cap fell off my head and a warm bead of blood trickled from behind my ear and over my cheek. My dorsal braid felt numb and thick. And hot. Like I was with fever.

  "Well, would you look at that," I murmured, touching the blood, then the back of my head. It stung, but to my amazement, my headache was gone. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

  "Yeah, dummy. 'Cause your braid broke free." Akira slapped me.

  "Oww, no hitting," I complained, shying away from her. "I'm the injured one here."

  "Yeah, well. You scared me," Akira pouted. "And you messed up the dance."

  "I messed up? You're the one that added that last thread!" I said.

  Akira naturally took great offense at that, and we bickered quietly until we noticed the protective ward hiding us from the parents start to degrade. We abruptly stood, and Akira sprinted out to find the washroom. It wouldn't do for the parents to figure out I started bleeding after we'd run off.

  I sat calmly on the carpet, trying to keep the blood from touching anything important as I prodded the no-longer-uber-sensitive lump of flesh jutting out of the back of my skull. It felt thick, just like the last time this happened, but this time it was even thicker. It was almost ridiculous how different it was compared to the other children my age.

  They had thin dorsal braids—maybe pinky thick—and usually only a single strand instead of my three. I on the other hand was this weird mutant with a braid as thick as many adults. Obviously, the size of the braid related to magic capacity in some respect, but when I'd asked, Dad had said my braid wasn't weird. It was 'beautiful'.

  It kinda just looked fat to me, but I supposed it was a cultural thing.

  Akira returned and I smiled as she shoved towels and a cup of water into my lap, then watched impatiently as I cleaned myself up. Her three-stranded dorsal braid was curled worriedly across her neck. Like a fleshy necklace.

  Back and forth. Back and forth, until I reached out and grabbed it. She squeaked, jumping back and slapping me in the face. I grinned, deflecting her blows, then sprinted down the stairs as she chased after me.

  See. I had friends. Or one friend.

  Honestly, who needs more than that?

  try to push Patreon one week ahead. I've maintained an 8k+ words per week pace before, so it's theoretically doable, but I don't want to promise anything I can't deliver. For that reason, the Patreon does not currently promise advance chapters.