I knelt beside a flat patch of earth, re-fastening the weights on my ankles and wrists—thick bands of dense alloy, engraved with old training runes. The straps tugged hard, protesting as I adjusted them into place. My legs already ached from the last fight, but the discipline mattered more than comfort.
Every motion reminded me why I wore them.
"Those must be heavy," a voice said from behind me.
I didn't jump. I'd felt her presence before she even spoke.
I glanced over my shoulder. It was the injured girl.
Hi, I'm Sera, she said holding her injured arm close but walking with surprising balance.
"They are," I said, tightening the final strap. "Part of my training."
She tilted her head, curious. "Can I… hold one?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You're injured."
"Just one," she insisted, grinning. "Maybe the anklet. I just want to feel what it's like."
I sighed but unlatched the right anklet. "Your back's gonna regret this."
"Try me."
I handed it to her.
She grabbed it with both hands—and immediately shrieked.
"AH—!"
The weight yanked her toward the ground like it was alive. She stumbled, almost falling flat, but I caught the anklet just before it hit the dirt.
Her eyes were wide. "What the hell was that?!"
"Told you," I said, smirking slightly. "It's not made for show."
She rubbed her wrist, laughing through a mix of shock and awe. "You're insane. You walk around with those things like they're nothing. Are all Deviants this strong?"
I shook my head. "Not all. Some can't handle it. Some don't need to. Everyone's different."
She blinked at me, still trying to process it.What are you?
"Kael",My name is Kael Philip
Before she could speak again, a familiar voice cut in.
"I heard shouting—what's going on?"
Albert emerged from the brush on the far side of the clearing, coat slightly dusty, spectacles askew. His blind eyes somehow still managed to look annoyed.
"Nothing," I said quickly, standing and re-attaching the anklet.
Albert paused, sniffed the air like he could catch the truth in it. But instead of pressing, he shrugged. "Good. We're leaving soon."
I looked up. "What about the stolen blade? The town?"
"The guards are awake," Albert said, walking back toward the carriage. "They're already transporting the weapon to a secured location."
"Did they say where?"
"They don't need to. We're not involved in that part."
I frowned. "Still feels unfinished."
Albert raised a hand, dismissing the thought. "We're nearly at Duckswatch, boy. You don't want nightfall chasing your heels through those roads. That forest stretch between here and the city is a place even monsters get lost in."
Sera blinked. "Duckswatch? That's a real place?"
Albert scoffed. "It's older than the Empire. Ugly name. Good food."
We loaded up, and by twilight we were on the move again.
…
We reached the outskirts of Duckswatch just before midnight.
The carriage rattled softly over worn cobblestone, its wheels creaking under the weight of our supplies—and silence. Albert hadn't spoken since we passed the last marker stone two hours ago. He sat stiffly at the front, guiding the horse with that uncanny awareness he always had, even without sight. He didn't hum. He didn't grumble. He just… sat there, lost in thought.
Sera, bandaged and curled up across from me, had long since dozed off. Her head rested awkwardly against a sack of old scrolls, and her wounded arm—finally unburdened—lay across her chest. She breathed evenly now. Not in pain, at least not visibly. Small blessings.
The night air outside was dense with mist, curling between the crooked iron streetlamps like ghosts too tired to haunt. Duckswatch had an eerie quiet to it. The kind that made you speak softer. Listen harder.
I glanced at Albert, but he didn't return the look. His face was unreadable, like always.
Eventually, the horse slowed and came to a halt.
Albert tapped the side of the carriage. "We're here."
I stepped out first.
Duckswatch didn't look like much at night—just a handful of narrow alleys, crooked rooftops, and hanging lanterns struggling to stay lit. But there was a charm to it. Like the kind of place that never asked questions, only offered roofs.
The shop stood at the corner of a slanted street: "ALBERT'S ARCANE ODDITIES"—etched in worn gold paint above the door. A single lantern swayed over the entryway, casting dancing shadows across the wooden frame. The windows were lined with strange glowing objects—floating quills, humming stones, even a bronze rat skeleton that blinked.
"Is that... thing watching me?" I muttered.
"It's the security," Albert said flatly. "Effective too. Bit of a smart-mouth, though."
He pulled a rune-carved key from his pocket and unlocked the door.
Inside, the shop was tight but full—walls lined with racks of talismans, rune scrolls, and handmade weapons of all kinds. Everything glowed faintly under detection spells, humming with a faint undercurrent of energy. A thousand years of forgotten enchantments probably lived on these shelves.
Sera, now half-awake, stepped in behind me and looked around with wide eyes. "This place is… crazy."
Albert snorted. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said about it."
He moved past a counter stacked with glyph-ink jars and pushed open the rear door.
"This way."
Behind the shop was the house—nothing extravagant, but sturdy. A two-floor structure built of old pine and rune-bolted stone, with a small porch and ivy growing up the side. It was dark inside, but once we crossed the threshold, Albert snapped his fingers and lit the lanterns with a flicker of blue light.
The house smelled like ink, firewood, and dust.
"This is home," Albert said simply. "Not much, but it keeps the rain off."
We stepped inside.
The place wasn't big, but it had five, maybe six rooms—more than enough for one man. A small kitchen sat tucked in the left corner, counters covered with half-finished runes and unopened jars. Shelves lined the walls with books and broken weapons. There were two couches, a round wooden table, and a spiral staircase that led to the second floor. Cozy… if a little messy.
"Wow," Sera said, setting her bag down. "It's like a wizard's junkyard."
"I prefer chaotic research sanctuary," Albert corrected dryly.
"You prefer not to clean," I muttered.
He ignored me.
"You'll take the room on the right," he told me, pointing down a short hallway. "Sera, yours is across from his. Don't mind the smell—it's just old alchemy stains."
We grabbed our bags and made our way to the rooms.
"Training starts tomorrow," Albert said, turning to me. "Sun-up. Don't be late."
Before I could respond, Sera chimed in from the doorway of her room. "Can I join?"
Albert raised an eyebrow—not that he needed eyes to aim it at her. "Not with that arm. Focus on healing. You'll get your chance soon enough."
She pouted but nodded. "Fine."
Albert headed toward the back room, yawning. "Don't make too much noise. I'm old, not deaf."
And just like that, the house fell quiet. The weight of the day settled in as I dropped onto the creaky bed in my room.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.
…
Morning light trickled in through the crooked windows of Albert's house, casting a golden hue across the cluttered living space. The scent of dust and old rune ink still lingered faintly in the air—but it was quickly being replaced by something… far more pleasant.
Kael was already downstairs, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp from a quick wash. He had been up for hours, broom in hand, clearing the corners of the house while a quiet pot simmered on the stove. The old pine floorboards creaked under his steps as he moved between the kitchen and the small dining table, humming faintly to himself.
In the pot, chunks of root vegetables—carrots, radish, sweet yam—bobbed alongside slivers of spiced meat cured with herb-oil from Lira's personal stash. A thick, golden broth bubbled gently, fragrant with ginger, garlic, and a hint of crushed Arcana crystal to keep the body sharp. He'd found some flatbread dough near the window, slightly dried out, and managed to revive it with water and a bit of melted fat from Albert's smoke-shed. A quick toss over the flame crisped them into warm, fluffy folds.
He was wiping down the counter when he heard a thud overhead—followed by the slow creak of stairs.
Albert's voice rang down, low and confused. "What's that smell?"
Sera's sleepy voice followed. "Is that… food?"
They came down one after the other—Albert first, in a rumpled gray robe, his hair a mess of loose curls. Sera followed behind, rubbing her eyes with one hand, the other still bandaged.
When they stepped fully into the room, both froze for a beat.
The house looked… different.
"Wow," Sera blinked. "Did you redecorate while we slept?"
Albert tilted his head, sniffing the air like an old hound. "It feels cleaner too. Boy, where are you?"
Kael's voice floated from the kitchen. "In here! Almost done. Both of you—take a seat."
Albert shuffled to the table and sank into one of the chairs with a grunt. Sera slid into the one beside him, sniffing the air again with a delighted grin.
The dining table was small, old, rectangular, and nestled beside the open kitchen space—surrounded by four mismatched wooden chairs. But it looked newly polished, the clutter cleared, a simple woven cloth spread across the center.
Kael emerged moments later, carrying a wide ceramic bowl in each hand. He placed one in front of Albert, then Sera, before setting his own down.
Steam rose from the bowls in aromatic swirls.
Sera's eyes widened. "Is that… root meat stew? With flatbread?"
"More or less," Kael said, sitting down and tearing off a piece of the warm, fluffy bread.
Albert took a spoonful—then stopped mid-chew. His blind eyes somehow widened.
Sera beat him to the words.
"This is amazing."
She went in for another bite, her expression melting into pure delight. "Seriously, where did you learn to cook like this?"
Kael shrugged. "My mom. She said even warriors need to eat well."
Albert nodded slowly. "Lira taught you well… really well. Hmph. That woman could tame a dragon with her cooking."
Kael chuckled, but inwardly, a realization settled in his chest.
He was definitely going to be stuck with kitchen duty for a while
'A very long while'.