He was a lanky fellow with deep brown skin that contrasted with his wild, unkempt hair that had a hint of a wavy texture. His black eyes, framed by thick lashes, sparkled with mischief, and a broad smile spread across his face that made his cheeks dimple ever so slightly. He wore a loose-fitting, long-sleeved linen shirt, its natural fibers flowing gracefully with every movement. The shirt, a soft, white color, was slightly faded, and at his waist, a green-colored sash was tied snugly. His trousers were made of sturdy fabric, and they ended just above a well-worn pair of black leather boots that had clearly seen their fair share of trekking.

  Elaine's gaze zeroed in on the slender wand nestled securely within its holster at his waist. He was a sorcerer. Questions swirled in her mind like leaves caught in a gust of wind; the most pressing was whether he was also a student at Glyph Academy. No, that wasn’t the only question weighing on her—another thought intruded: what could possibly motivate him to assist her in this precarious moment? They were strangers, bound by neither friendship nor shared experience, leaving her to ponder the connection that might compel him to act to her benefit. The boy shot her a smirk and subtly mouthed something. "Let me handle this," Elaine read from his lips.

  "The same applies to you, kid," the vendor grunted, crossing his arms. "If you're not here to buy something, then buzz off."

  "Come now, where are your manners, my good sir?" the boy chuckled. "Surely you don't intend to run a business with that attitude. Why, with such a horrid scowl and the foul manner in which you speak, well, you're not to win the favor of these girls any time soon."

  The vendor shrugged. "Don't really got any interest in caring for the likes of folk who can't even fork over three rubies."

  "Three rubies? And for what?" The boy cringed at the holster in the vendor's hands, shortly before welcoming another humored snicker. "You don't seriously expect me to believe that you're charging them so much for a plain ole wand holster. I've seen noble coats sold for much less."

  "Well, then," the vendor said, shoving the holster into his back pocket. "If you're so offended by my offer, then why not just point your little friends here in the direction of a different stall, one with lower prices? A fair bit of warning, though; you won't find much better than mine."

  Elaine deflated at that. She knew that this vendor, sunder him, was telling the truth. She'd spent over two hours wandering the Shopping District. But she realized in the first thirty minutes alone that she didn't possess nearly as many tokens as she otherwise needed; she hadn't anticipated the prices being so steep. Just another cruel reminder of her commoner heritage.

  The stranger laughed to himself. He fetched a silver token from his pocket, flicked it with his thumb into the air, and then caught it between two of his fingers. "You've made it apparent, friend, that you're quite the determined businessman. I'm sure there is honor in that, some way, somehow. But I warn you, you're treading in dangerous waters."

  The vendor snorted. "Come again?"

  "Why, isn't it obvious? How long have you had this shop of yours, huh? No, forgive me. If I might ask, how long have you lived in this town in general? Don't you know where you are? Aren't you aware of the kind of audience this place attracts?" The stranger leaned his elbow onto the stall table as he tied his other arm behind his back. His posture, both relaxed and assertive, suggested he had orchestrated the moment with careful consideration. Elaine watched him closely, her curiosity piqued "Nobles these days are terrifying animals, I swear," he smirked. "Not just because they can seize your entire livelihood with a flick of the wrist. Oh, no. That's far from the worst of it. If you ask me, based on my personal experience, I've come to find that nobleings are the be-all and end-all in this day and age. Trust me, you do not want to cross them. I mean, can you imagine the repercussions? A nobleman's daughter runs into her father's arms, sobbing that the meanie vendor in town unfairly overprices his products. What position does that leave you in, friend? I'll tell ya. You'll be at the mercy of a miffed noble, struggling to rationalize how someone in their right mind would even think about pestering his daughter." The boy nodded to Elaine. "That one there, she's of third cule. Some might even call her a royal. And here you are, trying to swindle her and all over a worn-out wand holster. Not the brightest move there, pal. Just saying."

  The vendor gulped. "She's of...third cule?"

  "Well, she did get into Glyph Academy, did she not? Those guys don't let just anyone walk their campus. But you should know that, surely."

  Elaine shot an astounded glare at the boy, her brow furrowing in disbelief. Was he completely insane? Anyone with two functioning eyes could see she wasn’t even close to being a noble, let alone of third cule. That status would imply she belonged to the upper ranks of nobility, perhaps as a daughter of a crownbaron or a wealthy goldblood who managed a thriving business empire. But someone of that importance wouldn't be found haggling with a street vendor over a simple leather holster in a market.

  She quickly glanced at Fearne, whose posture had gone rigid with tension. It seemed as though the girl was holding her breath, fear evident in her wide eyes. Elaine couldn’t blame her; the stakes were far too high. If this situation went south—and her instincts whispered that it might—then they could very well be arrested for impersonating nobility. The thought of being thrown into a dank cell for such a flimsy reason sent a shiver down her spine. This reckless interaction could very well spell the end of both their burgeoning sorcerer careers, leaving them with nothing but shattered dreams and tarnished reputations. They needed to flee before—

  Wait, was the vendor...sweating? The long-faced man, who had, up until this point, carried an arrogant, snarky demeanor, had now broken out into a cold sweat. He shifted uncomfortably behind the stall, fiddling with something she couldn't see below his waist. Meanwhile, the strange sorcerer was snickering a storm, hands raised behind his head. His stories, they were working. How were they working? The lies he told sounded like they could have been fabricated by some snot-nosed child trying to avoid a scolding from their parents. Was it this sulmo's confidence? Was that why the vendor was now shaking in his boots, wiping droplets of sweat off his scalp? Elaine sideglanced at him, puzzled. Who is this guy?

  "All right, all right," the vendor stuttered frantically. "I'll level with ya, kid. I don't need any trouble coming my way. I'm just a humble storekeeper, yeah?" He glanced at Elaine with a taut swing of his head. It was unnerving just how alarmed he looked. "One ruby. I'll drop the price to one ruby, not a dul less!"

  Elaine beamed a smile. "That'll do."

  *

  * *

  Pretty soon, in the warm afternoon sun, Elaine found herself sitting on a weathered park bench, a light breeze rustling her hair. The new leather holster rested comfortably in her lap. A burst of excitement bubbled within her as she giggled to herself. Owning one of these holsters made her feel as if she were a genuine sorcerer, fully immersed in her craft, rather than simply playing dress-up. No, she was a dedicated student of Glyph Academy, and visions of becoming a Professional Sorcerer danced in her mind.

  With a flair of pride, she slid her ornate wand into the holster and secured it to her waist with a satisfying snap. At that moment, the sorcerer sitting next to her—his clothing slightly rumpled but his presence warm—confirmed with a broad grin that, yes, he too was a fellow student at Glyph Academy. He erupted into laughter, a rich, hearty sound that echoed through the park as he slapped his knee, relishing a joke that had eluded her. "Oh, man! That guy looked dumbfounded, didn't he!" he joked, elbowing Fearne in her ribs. "I swear to Kyntho, pulling one over on scammers like that never gets old."

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Elaine scoffed. We technically scammed him, too...

  They had made their way from the Shopping District into a concrete-tiled open space bordered by neatly trimmed hedges and vintage-style street lamps. Flower pots bursting with hues—lobelia blue, marigold orange, and soft lavender—added a charming touch to the landscape. A surging fountain, with its shimmering arcs of water, sent glistening ribbons into the sky, creating a gentle mist that danced in the warm afternoon sun. In front of them, a medium-sized food cart adorned with hand-painted designs attracted a diverse crowd eager to sample its offerings. The enticing aroma of grilled skewers and sweet crepes wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of the flowers. Elaine also picked up the lively sound of jazzy tunes—sharp strums of a violin, the rhythmic beating of drums, and the sweet notes of a flute weaving together in a harmonious celebration. However, she couldn't quite pinpoint the band’s location—perhaps they were playing on an avenue nearby, hidden from view yet vibrant enough to evoke smiles and sway the crowd.

  "We really appreciate you helping us out back there, Custas," Fearne said in her soft, pure-as-snow voice. "I don't know what we would have done had you not come along. Well, I guess Elaine wouldn't have gotten her holster."

  "Nah! Don't mention it!" Custas chirped. He took another crunch out of the kebab he was holding—six golden, sphere-shaped snacks skewered to a wooden pole. The steamy scent laced with spice sizzled in Elaine's nostrils. "Really, I should be thanking you two. There's a great deal of good in people who treat another to a meal, free of charge."

  "What I don't get," Elaine said, "is why you decided to help us. I mean, you don't expect us to believe that you're just some random good samaritan who goes around helping broke lowborns like me. Let alone, how did you trick that vendor? Even I could tell the story you told him, me being a noble and all, barely made any sense. Did you cast a spell on him? A charm? But then, how did you do it without using your wand?"

  Custas munched happily, eyes closed, humming a foreign tune out his smiling lips.

  Elaine frowned. "Are you even listening to me...?"

  "Hmm? Say something?"

  "I think she was commenting about your outlandish method of tricking the vendor," Fearne clarified. "Truthfully, I'm a bit curious myself. It wasn't that your story was...err...unbelievable, but—"

  "No, it was," Elaine said plainly, crossing her arms. "Extremely so."

  "Regardless," Fearne exhaled, "I have to ask, how did you convince him as you did?"

  Custas wagged a finger at her. "First rule of trickery: It's not about what you say, it's how you say it. It doesn't matter how ridiculous your story sounds if you wear a strong smile and talk with enough conviction. Truth is what you perceive it to be. When others aren't "seeing" what you are, then they tend to start panicking as if they're the insane ones. You could say I have a knack for exploiting that weakness."

  "So, essentially, you're just really good at lying?" Elaine said.

  Custas cracked an amused smirk. "Sure. Let's go with that; it's much simpler. Course, it also helps that I've got this."

  Custas opened his mouth wide, exposing his tongue in a way that made Elaine shudder. There were still remnants of wheat and fried meat clinging to its surface. But it wasn’t just the food that alarmed her; it was the sight of his tongue itself. Leaning closer, along with Fearne, Elaine gasped as she noticed that engraved into the soft, pinkish flesh of Custas’s tongue was a series of obsidian-colored emblems. Three concentric rings encircled his tongue, stretching from the tip to the very back of his throat, interconnected by thick, oily lines. Within each ring lay a more complex symbol, eerily reminiscent of clovers—the first two rings contained designs with three leaves, their edges sharp and angular, while the largest circle at the center harbored a single, striking four-leaf clover.

  "Now I see," Fearne gasped. "You were using charmspeak, weren't you?"

  "Charmspeak...?" Elaine repeated, dumbfounded.

  It was a specific type of charm where a sorcerer would imbue their words with potent magic, significantly amplifying their persuasiveness and influence over those who heard them. The power of this charm allowed the caster to sway opinions, inspire loyalty, or even bend the will of others, making it a formidable tool in the hands of a competent speaker. As far as she was aware, this charm could be cast on any individual, provided the sorcerer possessed the requisite knowledge, concentration, and finesse. However, this was the first time she had witnessed someone taking it a step further by inscribing the necessary runes onto their own body, particularly on their tongue.

  "Right on the money," Custas chuckled, nodding. "It wasn't easy, and it hurt like hell. But once I figured out all the little kinks, I can now—"

  "Amazing!" Elaine squealed. "So, like, how exactly does it work? Are you actively burning through your Essence supply whenever it's in effect? Can you use it on any person, or does it also work on animals? Did you use it on either of us? What does it feel like? Theoretically, if I were to think about—"

  "Uh...Elarine, waast tit?" Custas gargled, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Yooor goina tour ot mye tonge!"

  Fearne palmed her forehead. "There she goes again."

  What?

  Elaine snapped out of it and realized she had Custas' tongue clenched in her fingers. She stared at him voicelessly, stunned, and he stared back, wide-eyed. Five seconds—maybe more—passed before Elaine finally let go. "Ah! I'm sorry!" she screamed in embarrassment, scrambling to the opposite end of the bench. "Pretend that didn't happen, all right!"

  Custas laughed, cradling his chin. "Well, that was different. For a second, I thought you were gonna yank it out of my head. That would have been...troubling."

  Her blush attacked without remorse. "I'm...I'm really sorry. It's a bad habit of mine."

  "Eh, we all have 'em." Custas hopped off the bench, sticking the kebab back into his mouth. "As for why I decided to lend a helping hand, well, I already knew you were students like me. Not anyone waltzes downtown, freely showing off their wands. Not unless you're a Professional Sorcerer or just the worst kind of thief."

  Elaine's gaze drifted eastward, her eyes narrowing into a determined squint as she focused on the heavens. She could just make out a shadowy silhouette mingling with the drifting clouds. This town—Fearne had mentioned it was called Lakestone—was situated close enough to where the contours of its landscape were vaguely discernible. As she strained to see more clearly, the structure came into view, though she couldn't discern the castle itself. From this distance, Glyph appeared as a large, rocky expanse shaped like a half sphere, perched precariously among the clouds. An island suspended in an endless sky.

  "I guess we can chalk it up to good ole Luck that I ran into you," Custas continued. "But you guys, you're like me?"

  Elaine traded looks with Fearne, and then she raised a brow at him. "Like...you?"

  "Yup! You've got good instincts," Custas chuckled. "Maybe they're not as perfect as mine, but they're good nonetheless."

  "I'm not following," Fearne admittedly sheepily, a finger to her bottom lip.

  "Right, right. What I'm trying to say is that, while not applicable to all of our classmates, most of 'em are lazing about on campus. They probably figured they don't have to do much since classes start tomorrow. But there's a reason the professors gave us these few extra days off before the semester. It's so we can prepare. Your instincts were telling you to come here and gather equipment and supplies that are sure to make your life in Glyph that much easier, yeah? And so, you'll be at an advantage as compared to someone who decided to waste their time doing a whole lot of nothing."

  Elaine stared at him blankly. I just needed a wand holster...

  Custas placed a hand over his chest. "My instincts were shouting at me, saying I had to come here. I didn't know why, but the answer became clear when I saw the two of you. My instincts were leading me to new friends."

  Elaine chuckled at him. "New friends, huh?"

  "Sure, why not? I could always use some well-natured pals." Custas snapped a finger. "You guys seem way more interesting than the other blowhard nobles I've had the displeasure of meeting thus far. Sticking with you might be fun."

  "I agree," Fearne said, clapping her hands together, borrowing some of Custas' excitement. "Life's better when you share it with people you like."

  "Ain't that the truth?" Custas snickered. "I've heard the curriculum at Glyph can be pretty tough. Let's help each other out and graduate as sorcerers together."

  He was a bit...irregular. Was that the best word? Well, it was the best she could propound. Nevertheless, as she smiled at the both of them—Fearne giggling as Custas energetically pumped a fist in the air—she couldn't deny how good it felt to have friends. Actual friends. She'd be weathering a storm soon. At least now, she didn't have to do it alone.