Traverse The Fog

The subsequent day, Cyrus stood within one of Avalorn's crowded streets. Dressed as one of the locals, he bore the passersby strange looks as he made reconnaissance.

"Come on," he muttered, zooming with his camera onto the man across the street. "Show me the magic."

On the other side lay one of the 'food distribution' areas—a picketed farm—that littered Avalorn. More importantly, the man in the green jumpsuit was planting seeds and watering them.

There, he does it again. Cyrus focused his shot.

Zeroing in, Cyrus watched the man stand by a plant, casually waving his fingers, and voila. There and then, a plant sprouted a thick and ripened orange apple-like fruit.

Click

How does he do that? Cyrus lowered his camera, lost in thought.

Was magic so mundane that mothers could use it to play with their children, yet so complex that it could create an entirely systemic food production system? Was it related to those sigils?

However, such answers required study, so Cyrus redoubled his focus. After a few minutes of spying, he noticed a change. Gaze widening, he witnessed the man fall and stumble onto the picket fence.

What happened? Cyrus almost crossed the street but restrained himself. Was there some invisible trade between him and the plant? Should I just walk up and ask him?

"Cyrus?" Surprised, he pivoted around to find Lady Dílis watching him with raised brows. Today, she proudly wore her wayfarer's outfit. Again. It must be akin to a second skin to her.

"I was taking a picture." Cyrus rubbed the back of his head.

His gaze momentarily drew to the small box she carried, but he could not discern its contents.

"Really?" She asked, not hiding the disbelief in her tone.

"I'm telling the truth." Well, it was technically the truth. But Lady Dílis' questioning gaze made him feel like he was spying, which, well, Cyrus was, but she did not need to know that. "Alright," Cyrus quickly folded. "I'm interested in magic, so I watched the farmer." His gaze flickered from her to the farm. "The city's infrastructure seems almost entirely comprised of invisible magics."

Not that he truly knew. But Cyrus had noted that all the water reservoirs and purification centers they passed had no pipes or other means of transporting water from a local source. If there was no source, then where does it come from? There was no river or lake in or around Avalorn.

"Could you tell me or is it a secret?" Cyrus asked, turning off his camera.

"It's not a secret—not really," she smilingly said. Come with me. I'll explain some things about magic."

Cyrus followed in tow. "Where are we heading?"

"To The Guard headquarters."

On they went through the narrow streets of Avalorn.

"Let's start at the beginning." Lady Dílis hummed, momentarily lost in thought. "Everyone is born with a sort of understanding of the world, which we call domains." With an open palm, a green T-shaped sigil phased above it, floating. "And after years of gaining insights and training, we gain its fragments—runes."

Cyrus did not hold back his curiosity. It was just like the sigil that came out from Orionis' head and, more importantly, that orange sigil. Runes, were they? The name is familiar...

Lady Dílis continued with practiced words, unaware of his inner turmoil. "We draw in ambient energy, called mana, to create and fuel our runes to bend the world to our will."

Another familiar word. Mana and runes—both had meaning from his home world, but he had not considered them real. Was there a link? Had magic existed there, too?

"Would you get in trouble for telling me this?" Cyrus asked, scratching his thick and messy beard.

"It's hardly secret knowledge. But to legally practice, a mage must register their status—no matter what."

"Mages have to register?" Cyrus questioned, a subtle, annoyed twitch in his brow. But just as quickly as it came, he flickered it away. "I understand. Wouldn't want dangerous mages swooping about."

Lady Dílis nodded and leaned in close. "And those who break the law are punished." —Her voice lowered to a whisper— "From simple community service to... execution."

She searched his face for a reaction but found none. Not that Cyrus would have disagreed. He followed the adage, 'Those of the worst need no pity.'

The two moved around a pair of boxes that blocked the sidewalk.

"That law does your rune embody?" Cyrus asked, recalling the green flicker from the cave.

Lady Dílis smiled. With a flutter of her fingers, the floating rune spun faster and faster. "This rune is under the domain of life."

"'This rune?' So mages could carry multiple domains?"

"It depends on a lot of factors." The sigil began to dance among the tips of her pale fingers. "On the day they're born, the number of domains they carry is set. A mage might be born to move the earth or summon ice armor—fire, wind, water, or even darkness, just to name a few."

Cyrus' gaze remained transfixed. This sigil—No, these runes and domains carried the key to his wishes and dreams. He must know more.

Subtly gazing at her carefree expression as the two crossed a street, he blurted out a question: "What laws were you born with—uh, if you don't mind me asking."

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With a warm smile, Lady Dílis dashed Cyrus' expectations of rejection by producing a seed from her pocket and cradling it in her palm.

"Like my father—" A tiny sprout broke through the shell and began to grow. "—I'm a mage under the law of life, specifically a flouramancer." Lady Dílis then strode over one of the lush turfs lining the streets and unceremoniously knelt on the dirt. "The domain of life is incredibly versatile. It encompasses flora and fauna, allowing a mage to control plants or command animals." —She presented a metal flask from her coat before digging into the dirt, uncaring that it clung underneath her nails— "Alternatively, a mage could choose to forgo those abilities entirely and focus on enhancing their own physical strength to extraordinary levels."

And with a final hoof, she stood up and watered the sapling she planted.

"Life," Cyrus muttered, gaze transfixed on the sprout. "I assume that's a rare domain?"

Lady Dílis dusted her knees and hid her flask. "No, it's not. Every living being is born with it."

Cyrus inwardly sighed. Magic. Magic. Magic. Did he carry these domains? Could he harness them? Would the Dílis let him?

"Let's hurry up," Lady Dílis remarked, shaking her package. "I want to pass a gift to my father."

Her father? Slowly, Cyrus gestured for her to lead. "He's at the Guardsman headquarters?"

"He treats it like his office." She smiled at him. "And don't get me started on how busy he is. Without me, he wouldn't remember to eat food. Come on, let's hurry up."

Their pace quickened. Despite Lady Dílis' hurry, the natives would stop the two simply to hand over small gifts—fruits, carvings, and even toys from small children. And it soon became apparent that most people hadn't recognized her as the lord's daughter. No, it was all due to her outfit.

Are they celebrities? Cyrus stepped back as another group bombarded her with gifts and praises. With the small freedom he had, Cyrus turned his attention to the bustling streets. Oh, what's this?

On the nearest brick-cobbled building, posters were littering its walls. With one quick glance at his tour guide to check if the coast was clear, Cyrus sidestepped the crowd to the closest poster.

"Come one, come all," it stated, theatrically portraying a heroic Wayfarer bearing a torch on a treacherous mountain peak. "Become one of Avalorn's greatest!"

The bottom of it was held in fine print, which stated beneficiaries such as a generous stipend, 'mana and runic crystals,' and high status.

Well, watching Dílis bombarded with fans, people must be lining up to join them, right?

Before he could contemplate further, Miss Dílis broke free from her followers and waved him over.

"Let's get out of here." A trace of disappointment flashed across her face when she noticed the poster.

Oh, what's this? Gaze subtly flashing, Cyrus clutched his camera. "Lead the way."

On they went. The two made a direct slice through the city and into the main district. There, the grassy cobblestone streets unfolded into an open plaza that led toward what looked like an enormous administrative building of ornate design. It was heavily guarded by men resembling the guards at the wall and beyond in checkpoints, all proudly bearing The Oak of Avalorn.

However, these checkpoints and dense crowds were mere trivialities to Lady Dílis. With just her person, she effortlessly bypassed the guarded checkpoints one after another until the two passed through the building's front doors.

And inside was just as beautiful. Marble flooring, towering columns, ornate furnishings, and brass gates—all presented with a distinct administrative design. One quick scan and Cyrus found dozens upon dozens of civilians lining up before counter booths. A special event?

"This is where the main branch is stationed." Lady Dílis showcased all this with her free hand while pushing through the crowd. "With smaller branches spread across the city."

None dared stop her once they realized who she was, allowing the two to forge deeper into the crowded marble-floored hallways. After several corner roundings, the two entered a lone hallway leading to a single set of double doors.

"We're almost there," She said, grasping the brass handle. "Maybe Father has some free tim—"

"Hold on, Flower," A gruff and visaged voice rang from behind.

The two stopped. Turning around, they spotted a pale, older man wearing full dark green splint armor proudly displaying Avalorn's seal. His footsteps, while soft, carried themselves similarly to Officer Orionis—a soldier's march. Stoic and calm, that bear of a man looked ferocious enough to tear another in half. At least, Cyrus would have thought so if it weren't for the soft smile betraying his expression.

"And why is the city's flower at the guardsman headquarters?" The man teased as he removed his helmet, revealing his gray, long mane. "With a man no less?" His gruff countenance grew wistful at the sight of Lilie as he twisted his gray lampshade mustache. "Ayy, little lass. You're growin' just too fast."

Such an accusation was retaliated against with seeds thrown at his face.

"Liam, he's a guest from outside the city!" Lady Dílis exclaimed, not daring to look for Cyrus' reaction.

Her words woke Liam up. And Cyrus felt a subtle pressure when his gaze bore onto him. There was no doubt in Cyrus that this man would hound him to no end if he whiffed a single sign of evil intent on him. So, the former bottled his complaints with a placating smile on his face.

"Clear skies, I am Wade Cyrus," he greeted, inclining his head and placing a fist on his heart.

The man's piercing gaze remained fixed on him—at least until they softened at the sight of the pouting young woman.

"Clear Skies, I am Seum Liam." He placed a fist on the white lilie on his breastplate. "But call me Seum, Wade."

Seum instead of Liam. Wade instead of Cyrus. If he had absorbed the local customs correctly, Seum would not have been a man hoping to make friends. Cyrus cared not. But he hoped it would not come back to bite him.

Seum returned Cyrus' silent nod with one of his own, then turned to face Lady Dílis. "I'm afraid you're barred from entry, Little Flower. Your father is meeting with the department heads about critical matters." He then gestured a placating hand. "Don't give me that look, Lass. I'm serious. The only reason I'm out here and not in there is because of a mishap on the wall tops."

Lilie's eyes flashed with disappointment. "It's okay, Liam. Could you give this to him?" She then handed the package over. "It's his favorite."

Seum agreed to her wish with a light smile, rubbing her head before passing through the double doors, leaving quickly as he came. Only after Cyrus was sure he was out of earshot did he turn his gaze to meet hers.

"Is he the department head of the guard?"

Her gaze darted between him and the doors." Yeah, he is, but don't treat his attitude as rude. He's a sweet uncle." A frown appeared on her face as she rubbed her chin. "Still, this doesn't happen, ever. I wonder what's wrong."

With no answers to be found here and the main office barred, Lady Dílis sighed and gestured for him to follow. And to avoid the trip being a waste, she offered him a tour of the building.

Cyrus nodded without much thought, taking in the sights before him. And if he were to tell the truth, it bored him. That was until they walked by a training room. It had only caught a glimpse of the sight, but he witnessed guards watching an instructor launch a gray-translucent projectile from his finger and onto a training dummy. And the sight nearly took his breath away. He needed more information.

"So," he said, masking his excitement with nonchalance. "Are guardsmen the only ones that teach their members magic?"

Lady Dílis shook her head. "No, every department has magic instructors." A thought had her puffing her chest like a peacock. "But Wayfarers nurture every new applicant with care. Other than The Academy of Milligan, there is no other better place."

Milligan. Cyrus' gaze flashed.