Friday Evening – Solstice Gardens
The sunset draped the academy in soft amber light, casting long shadows across the cobbled paths and rune-lit arches. Students strolled lazily through Solstice Gardens, with the massive female dorm behind and laughter echoing faintly between blossom-laden trees and open windows.
And floating above them all like the crown jewel of scandal:
"STUDY DATE CONFIRMED?"
"Dorm Staff Say: 'He Slept There!'"
The headline blinked across enchanted newspapers drifting through the air like lazy kites. Some even featured animated doodles of a red-faced Nerida opening her door to Lucian.
It was everywhere.
Which is why Nerida Virellia had one crumpled tightly in her fist.
She sat stiffly on a garden bench beneath a blooming tree, her red cloak flawless except for a few defiant strands of flame-red hair that had slipped free. Across from her, Pauline reclined barefoot on a soft blanket, tea cooling beside her, eyes glinting with unholy delight.
Pauline gasped dramatically, waving her own copy of the paper like it was courtroom evidence. "Page four has a diagram. A literal diagram, Neri. Doodle versions of you two. With labels."
"I'm going to set the entire student press on fire," Nerida muttered, folding the paper again with slightly too much force.
Pauline laughed, bright and cruel. "It's not like they lied."
"They exaggerated."
"You told me he slept with your robe."
"I washed it."
"With the expensive lavender mana-soap."
"I needed to clean it."
"You folded it."
"Standard decency."
"You tucked it into your drawer."
Nerida didn't respond.
Pauline leaned in, her grin wide and knowing. "Face it, Neri. You like him."
Nerida looked down, voice quieter. "I do not. I'm thinking of distancing myself. Before this turns into something... hard to untangle."
Pauline raised a brow. "You think he'll care?"
"I don't know. He hasn't said anything. Probably doesn't even notice. That idiot…"
Her grip on the paper loosened.
Then—
A ripple passed through the garden's rhythm. Students paused, eyes widening. A few whispers. A quiet gasp.
Lucian had entered the path—walking beside a sharp-eyed boy no taller than his shoulder, alchemist satchel bouncing against his hip, smugness trailing him like perfume.
The Broker.
They walked like they belonged—talking, casually, heading toward the southern dorms.
Nerida's heart betrayed her with the tiniest jolt.
Lucian spotted her. A brirf glance.
Then he waved—calm, polite, unfazed.
She turned away too quickly.
A faint blush touched her cheeks, and she silently begged the gods that no one saw.
Pauline raised her tea like a toast. "Flawless deflection. Really nailed it."
Nerida groaned into her hands.
Equinox Hall - Dorm Room
Lucian unlocked his door. Scrolls lay exactly where he left them. His robe was still draped over the chair. One long scroll had unrolled itself across the floor like it had given up.
The Broker stepped inside, took one look, and whistled. "Cozy mess you got here, lad."
Lucian sighed, dropped his satchel and collapsed on his bed. "Floor's yours. You're lucky I'm too tired to argue. No smoking, no summoning eldritch horrors."
"Got it," Broker said, flopping onto a blanket like he owned the place.
Then, casually: "So what was that back in the garden?"
"What was what?"
"Your girlfriend. Flame girl. She looked ready to combust."
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Uh-huh. The whole school's writing sonnets about it."
Lucian shrugged. "Maybe she's mad. I wouldn't blame her."
The Broker whistled. "You're real calm for a guy who got publicly ignored without dating anyone."
Lucian lay on the bed, arms behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.
"I'm not here for romance. I'm here to study magic... and not die."
The room quieted. That was the last spoken word between them.
Lucian turned on his side, closing his eyes.
A breath escaped him.
Dungeon run tomorrow.
Not die.
...Hope I don't.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning came like a whisper. Lucian and the Broker slipped out of the dorm just before sunrise, robes on, satchels ready. The sky was still a deep blue bruised by the first signs of dawn. A soft chill laced the air, and above, the Crystal Tear glowed softly, and dew reflected the dying stars above like scattered gems.
At the academy gates, two sleepy guards glanced up. One yawned. "Be back before sunset."
Lucian gave a casual salute. The Broker just muttered, "Sure. Sunset," and kept walking.
They made their way down the quiet path, mist curling around their boots. Lucian adjusted his satchel.
"You ever been to the heart of the capital?" Broker asked, nudging him with an elbow.
Lucian shook his head. "No."
"Oh-ho," Broker said, grabbing his arm. "Then best i treat ya to something entertaining! C'mon."
They veered off the main street and ducked through a merchant's alley, then through some abandoned houses. Within minutes, Broker had led them to a narrow steel ladder bolted against an old archer tower.
Lucian climbed after him—and gasped when he reached the top.
From their perch on the old tower's roof, the capital sprawled out like a living dream.
Bridges arced over slow, glowing rivers. Behind them, the Schools mage towers pulsed faintly in the morning light, with banners fluttering in the early breeze. Ahead, soldiers in polished light armor marched along skywalks. Market stalls unfurled below like flowers, and floating sigils moved lazily across the skyline.
Even this early, the city was breathing. Alive.
Lucian exhaled.
"It's beautiful."
Broker grinned beside him. "This is the city of Emberhold. Capital of Country Solmira. Named after the Flame God Ignivion , still celebrated though the gods are no more."
He pointed out places, inns, eateries and even brothels... And one road in particular.
"Silverweave Street. Leads to the Adventurer's Guild. You'll head there in a sec. Just get your stuff first."
Lucian just stood there a little longer, watching the city come alive beneath him.
Then he nodded. "Alright. Let's go."
They dropped down back into the waking city and cut through alleys now humming with prep for continuing the festival season. After a dozen turns, they reached an unassuming building—aged brick and iron.
Smugglers' Den
Read the weather-worn sign above the door.
Inside: dim lights, hanging crystals, quiet murmurs.
It was calm. Efficient. Not what the name implied.
Crates lined the walls, glowing faintly under containment glyphs. The air smelled of incense, iron, and mana oil.
Lucian blinked. "This is… clean."
"Legacy operation," Broker said. "Three generations. My family's been doing this longer than most nobles've had their teeth."
They approached the desk. A broad-shouldered man sat behind it, gray-streaked hair, a ledger in one hand, muscle like brick beneath a sleeveless coat.
Lucian leaned in. "That your dad?"
"Yep." Broker raised a hand. "Morning, Pops. Brought the client."
The man grunted. "You're late."
"Right on time."
Broker vanished into the back. Moments later, he returned with gear neatly wrapped in mana-threaded cloth.
He unrolled it on the counter.
A sleek dungeon-fit, charcoal-grey with obsidian accents. Light and flexible.
A modular utility belt with sealed compartments.
A black rod with a dull crystal top. Looked like scrap.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "That's the weapon?"
"Disguised," Broker said. He slid the rod apart with a clean shhnk.
A slender blade extended—matte, balanced, whisper-sharp.
Lucian took it, gave it a flick of mana. The crystal at the top gave a low hum.
"Perfect."
"Three hundred gold."
Haven't you heard of discount, brother?
Lucian sighed and paid. It hurt. Bad. But it was worth it.
"You're not half as annoying as I expected," Broker said, pocketing the coins. "Still... don't die. Would ruin my rep."
Lucian suited up. The gear clicked into place like it belonged to him. Belt adjusted. Satchel fastened.
He looked in the polished steel plate nearby.
Ready.
"Don't worry," Lucian smirked as he left.
"I plan on disappointing you."