Dust specks illuminated by shafts of midmorning light danced about Sebastian's head. It was the fourth time he was counting his luggage and its contents. And, the fourth time everything was in its proper place. The books, surplus of comestibles and a change of clothes.

  His mentor Moriton had always stressed the importance of food for a magician on the road. Food is fuel. If you run out your ward won't cast and, you'll be a charred lump. When he said it back to himself he even heard that raspy tone she got into when lecturing. The roads were dangerous nowadays, and danger meant spellcasting. Better to be prepared.

  The pressing need to know for sure his items were safe manipulated his fingers across the metal clasps. He unlocked and locked the clasps of the luggage, to check them and set himself at ease.

  Sebastian looked over his hat. He turned over the wide-brimmed, floppy hat and patted its crinkled peak. It had been Mortion's before his; her graduation cap marking her a fully-fledged witch from the Stygian Academy. Now that she was missing it was his to take care of. His nerves came out in the pinching of his fingers to the fabric. It brought comfort to feel how soft and well worn it was. It would be reassuring to take it, to wear it. He winced at the mere thought of it being lost or damaged.

  He hadn't left Teichostro since she brought and raised him there. And now, for the sake of protecting the city that nurtured him, he'd have to venture into the wide worrisome world. He felt foolish for being so fearful of a little trip. But even looking to the door of his abode brought distress. The dark foreboding wood in the shadow of the unlit entryway seemed hostile to him.

  The familiar, ruminating voice in his mind returned, pestering him. Why didn't I ask someone else to do it? Why do I have to go to Goldmeer?

  As the thoughts came he felt his face twist into a grimace. If his assumption about Riverbreath's disease was right, there could be nothing left to chance. Letters and proxies wouldn't work. They'd only waste valuable time. He needed to be in the Goldmeer archives to read, see and think for himself.

  He took a deep breath and returned to his desk. Stress reverberated in him. From his earliest memories he always turned to one cure for such a problem; burying his nose in old tomes. He sniffed at the pages of "Disease & its Origins" by Malkonvock Dizderavic, which lay open at his desk.

  It was old, musty, and rich with a pleasant parchment scent. Curiously, at both times useless and the source of Sebastian's hypothesis. More modern and local literature was too focused on the Red Death plague of decades past. There were pages and pages of flurried speculation on if the barbarian raiders carried it. Others suggested the impugnable northern elves. Others still held it was a divine curse.

  Dizderavic's out-of-date manifesto was rife with bloodletting and oatmeal bath cures. Even so, it was the only text to describe the symptoms Riverbreath experienced. The mentions of the disease were painfully scant. Dizderavic's text stressed its virulence and destructive nature. It was ripping through "The Capital" as he wrote his piece, influencing the tone. Dizderavic made recovery seem glum and hopeless. Sebastian needed to be sure they were the same. He needed primary sources on how it could be cured and contained.

  Sebastian turned the pages over in his fingers, cursing Dizderavic for not citing his sources. A rapping at his door drew Sebastian's attention with a jolt. A shiver of anxiety rippled from the top of Sebastian's fluffy white hair to his fingertips.

  "Be there in a moment!" Sebastian called, brushing himself off, and rising to let in the visitor. He noticed too late that the cuffs of his clothes were sprinkled with a chalky powder. He patted them off on his thighs to try to disperse it. What is he going to think of me?

  Sebastian hesitated at the doorknob for a moment. His hand moved for the brass at a glacial pace. This is going to be hard. He could delay no longer, and swung open the door to the visitor.

  It was Valéry Elwood. His sharp, slender nose drew Sebastian's attention first, but the smirk captured it. Dark, straight black hair lay over Valéry's obscured eyepatch. His confident stance was marked with a straight posture and unwavering eye contact. In comparison, Sebastian was reminded of how his own meek shoulders drew close to him. He tried to follow Valéry’s example and stand as tall as he could.

  Valéry's eyebrows raised with curiosity, and Sebastian realized he'd just been staring at him. A deep blush tinted Sebastian's features as embarrassment set in. He felt his movements stiffen up, and each step or motion of his arms felt laden with lead.

  Sebastian allowed him in, turning away and walking to his desk to make himself look busy. "Were you able to find the place fine? Were the directions too complex?" A stutter broke up his first words and his voice raised higher than he intended.

  "Got here without issue."

  Sebastian tracked Valéry's sight as the taller man looked over Sebastian's home. He was nervous what judgmental thoughts were hiding behind that dusky grey eye. When Valéry spoke, though, his voice was wispy and gentle. It lilted with a slight sarcasm to Sebastian's ear. "A cozy home you have. I like how open it is," Valéry said, waving his hand at the open space that connected Sebastian's bed to his work area.

  Sebastian felt a sudden wave of embarrassment at his messy alembics, pestles and mortars, scales, and measuring tools. Scattered about the workstation and tables of his living room were a plethora of materials and items for his alchemical study. In the tumult of packing Sebastian had a lapse in his usual fastidious nature.

  Sebastian nodded and folded his fingers together, squeezing to try to diffuse his feelings.

  "We haven't had much time to talk," Valéry began, rolling his wrist in a casual, recollecting way. "The only time we really spoke was during the Moonwater Festival this past winter."

  Sebastian nodded urgently. He froze for a moment to catch himself. He remembered the entirety of the interaction but had to hold back from awkward gushing. It wasn't socially appropriate to bring up year old conversational topics. Don’t overshare, it’ll make you look weird. Who remembers the exact details of small talk after months? "Yes, I recall," he settled on saying.

  There was a moment of dead air, Valéry seemed to make a face expecting Sebastian to keep talking. The poor boy had nothing further. In the face of conversation, his mind went blank. He must be thinking I'm downright foolish.

  Valéry leaned back on his boot's heel and rested his hand on his hip. "Is this all your baggage?"

  Sebastian confirmed with a nod.

  "I brought Patrick around. Want to get him saddled up with your bags?"

  Sebastian murmured agreement and grabbed a bag. He went to take two but Valéry cut in and hefted them up with a grunt.

  "Moving house to Goldmeer, eh?" He jokingly prodded.

  "Am I taking too much?"

  "You're the chief alchemist, I trust you packed only essentials."

  "Most of it is food rations," Sebastian said, opening the front door for himself and Valéry.

  "Oh, I bet. Silas is always on about how important food is to a sorcerer." Valéry deepened his voice and spoke as an old man does, "back in my youth I ate five meals a day. I turned barbarians to ash and ate a whole pair of chickens each evening."

  "Silas Werner? You work with him in enforcement?"

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "Just so. He's -- Hey! Coco, no!" Valéry's sudden exclamation turned Sebastian's attention from him to the street.

  Before them, Sebastian’s hatchfeather, Patrick was squawking in distress. The poor beast was being assailed on his head and neck by Valéry's mare. The hatchfeather twisted and fluffed up posture made he look like a fat blue cotton ball.

  Valéry set down the luggage on the doorstep and hurried to settle Coco. He interposed himself between them and brought her reins in his hands, pulling her away. The brusque mare calmed with Valéry's soothing words and neck patting.

  The ornery Coconut made Sebastian skittish as he mounted Patrick. The hatchfeather was laden low with his master's bags. Valéry's saddlebags were comparatively a lot smaller. Sebastian's escort saddled up beside him, looking down on him by a head.

  "Wait! I forgot something,” Sebastian said.

  He dashed back inside and fetched Moriton's hat. Tucking it onto his head brought a firm smile and a tingling feeling. Suddenly all that lead was gone from his limbs. He locked his front door and checked it three times over before mounting Pat again. Looking up to Valéry, Sebastian was barely able to see him past the crinkled brim of the hat.

  "Ready?" Valéry asked, kicking Coconut into action with his heels. Sebastian followed after the rhetorical question. He snapped the reigns on Pat's beak to keep up with the horse already several strides ahead. Pat tottered after the bully mare with his head titled sideways. He watched both the road and Sebastian at once. The dark brown eye locked with Sebastian, constricting its pupil as he chewed on his harness. Pat seemingly wished to commiserate over his treatment.

  The morning was pleasant, its air felt cool and still to Sebastian's cheek. There was a distinct energy and Sebastian wondered if Valéry, Pat, or even Coconut could feel it radiating off him. There was more colour and sensation to everything. This wasn't a trip to market or a leisurely ride to the counselor's building. Sebastian would really be trotting right through those tall gates to the east. Gates he'd only ever glanced at. Gates that kept him safe.

  Valéry kept quiet on their ride to the gate. He maintained his cheery smile and nodded to those that passed who made eye contact. Sebastian usually kept his head down but felt obliged to follow suit when these passersby would look to him to exchange the nicety.

  The east gate, and the street that fed into main street, were both commonly referred to as Churinera's path or Churin gate. It was a beautiful piece of construction. The stones of the walls lay with hypnotic perfection to its pattern. The gate of purplewood and metal was banded with iron filigree that rose like stretching roots across the petrified wood. The paved tile road, though not to the ancient Prendergast standard, was well trodden and unbroken.

  In Sebastian's experience, Churin gate’s beauty was too often sullied with throngs of moving people. Merchant caravans from Goldmeer and abroad most always used this gate to enter Teichostro. The high, whitish stone walls were easily five stories tall. Chips to the stone occasionally marred the hexagonal pillars which served as the frame for the wooden retractable gates.

  Carved into the stone was the cherub, youthful likeness of Churin himself. Patron of Teichostro and god of wind and fields. Laid into the city-facing walls were reliefs of wheat fields, tomatoes, and grapevines, all looking lush and full.

  Valéry guided Sebastian, taking the lead through the tight street. Coconut's tail repeatedly flicked Pat's face, which he didn't appreciate. A few times he felt as though he'd get lost in the teeming lanes of traffic. Valéry's steady pace and glances back at Sebastian kept him on the right path. His heart thrummed as he pulled closer and closer until finally he was out and passed the gate. Just like that, he was outside Teichostro.

  "Just a day's ride to Claycot!" Valéry said. He got alongside Sebastian now that the traffic was more settled. "How do you feel?"

  "A-ah, well... " Sebastian trailed off, looking from Valéry's eyes to the deep crest of his shirt and chest, then passed him to the purplewoods. They were lofty and thick providers of vast shadowing canopies. Their bark's deepish brown gave only the slightest hint of the dark lavender wood within. Even so, this secret only divulged itself when the light hit them.

  "It'll be alright. A day by mount to Claycot, then another two days to Goldmeer. Nothing but a stroll," Valéry offered a grin that winced his eye shut. Coconut seemed to add her approval with a whinny.

  Sebastian could only nod and hope his worry didn't show up too much on his face.

  "Have you seen these purplewoods up close before? They're," Valéry cut himself off with a huff of reverence, "massive."

  "I have but it was a long time ago," Sebastian replied dryly. He watched the dappling of leave made shadows glide over Valéry's face. It was bubbling to come out of him, so Sebastian spoke, "they were gifts from the northern elves."

  "Is that so? Don't they live in trees? Maybe they were trying to move in."

  "I don't think--," Sebastian stopped his correction when Valéry's expression betrayed a distinct look of jest. "Ah, yes."

  "We'll see a lot of them in Goldmeer. Not many elves visit Teichostro."

  The conversation entered a lull as they began to break from the rows of purplewoods and into the gentle hills outside the city. Tallish grass lined the paved roads here, and more than once Valéry had to pull Coconut away from nibbling on it.

  Sebastian, feeling adventurous, drifted Pat towards the soft-looking shoots and let them run across his palm. He felt his neck and shoulders relax, a deep exhale slipped from him. I’m doing it! I’m outside of the city, and nothing bad has happened.

  With a glance over his shoulder, he said a silent goodbye to the walls of the city. He'd spent the last decade protected by them, but now they were disappearing behind the lip of a hill. With the noon sun bearing down on his hat, it was full speed to Claycot.

  Valéry, who'd only hummed a few notes on occasion or clicked his tongue to Coconut, spoke finally. "I should have brought a hat," he tussled his hair. "At least the sun isn't right in my eye any longer."

  Sebastian thought for a moment but had no idea what Valéry meant or wanted. Is he just talking, or did he want to borrow something? Does he want a suggestion? Sebastian's fretful thoughts considered what would be appropriate to say before finally settling on, "Oh, yes." He coughed out an unconvincing chuckle to follow it.

  Still, when he looked up and over at Valéry, all that was returned was a happy grey eye, casting a glance down at him

  Sebastian felt a tightness in his shoulders whenever the rattle of wagon wheels or tapping of hatchfeather claws came up from the road ahead. Each time Sebastian expected something. What, he wasn't sure, but it got his guard up. Valéry and Coconut liked to drift, swaying from beside Sebastian to the far side of the road. For safety and conduct, they'd drift back and the travelers would pass. Though the most interesting exchanges were no more than basic greetings.

  The most peculiar event was a shabby woman on an aging hatchfeather complaining loudly about the afternoon heat. As she passed by and they moved forward her shrill exclamations quieted. Hot air expelled into the hot air.

  When the sun had only just passed its highest point, Valéry had suggested they take a break from riding. Sebastian didn't want to waste a moment getting to Goldmeer. And so he declined, intending to rest and eat only in Claycot. Valéry relented with only an 'okay' in his jocular manner and a swig of his canteen. A shrug of his shoulders topped off his opinion of Sebastian's resolve.

  Sebastian tried to hold his tongue for as long as possible. An internal shame heated his cheeks, and the sun lay hot on his shoulders. His legs ached, his belly cried out for food, and he wanted to stretch and rest. By the warm last lights of late afternoon, he finally gave in. But only after what felt like an hour of fretting over how Valéry would judge him.

  "May we take a rest?" Sebastian said, saying it quick to get it over with. He's going to laugh right in my face and at how weak I am.

  Despite his flinching at Valéry's voice, no judgment came. His tone was level and calm as it had been all day. "Sure," Valéry said, "We're long due for one. You rode for a long while for someone unfamiliar with trips."

  Valéry found a good spot by the roadside and pulled Coconut toward it, beckoning Sebastian to join. A stout, sturdy tree bore the responsibility of hitching post for Coco and Pat.

  "Did you pack a nice blanket to lay out for our snack?" Valéry asked over his shoulder. He rummaged in his saddleback and out sprung a verdant apple.

  "No, I didn't," Sebastian replied with noticeable strain. His legs and thighs cramped and ached. He hiked up each knee to his chest to feel them out and try to release the tension. He warbled with imbalance. He rubbed at them, the quadriceps feeling tense and knotted. Standing felt better but still came with a shakiness he didn't like.

  "Feels kind of nice, eh? The soreness is pleasant, I find. I almost miss it," Valéry said between crisp-sounding bites.

  "Not at all!" exclaimed Sebastian, befuddlement cloudy on his features. How could anyone enjoy this feeling? He must be teasing me.

  "Hm. Do this," Valéry motioned to himself and raised up a heel behind him. He caught the front ankle of his boot in his palm and gently pulled and held. His balance was impeccable, not a single quivering muscle. He held for a few seconds and switched legs. "That might help."

  Sebastian did as instructed. He found some relief in the spreading warmth that coursed in his thighs after stretching them. "Thanks. That's a little better."

  Sebastian rummaged in his pack and produced a parchment-wrapped portion of rich, sharp cheese. It was a dull whitish-yellow color. It was a soothing snack he'd often turned to when burning the midnight oil researching. He demurely nibbled in peace for a moment, relishing his chance to stand. He noticed his stance was slightly bowlegged, but he didn't have the energy to care.

  From Valéry came an unexpected request, "Hey, let me get a crumb of that, please?"

  Sebastian broke off a chunk and placed it in Valéry's waiting palm. Valéry gulped it down, savoring the mixture of fresh, sour citrus and sharp aged cheese. Sebastian felt a pang of desire for the apple, and it was noticeable. Valéry, with an imploring expression, offered up the unbitten end of the apple.

  Sebastian almost shook his head no, but a sudden surge of confidence pushed him forward. He leaned over and took a small bite of the apple, covering his mouth as he coyly chewed. His embarrassment bubbled up. In his mind, he saw himself leaning over like a child and eating out of Valéry's hand. But, there was no judgment, Valéry went about eating his end after withdrawing the offering.

  After their respite was done they noticed the light was dwindling. With the agreement that they only had an hour or so of light to travel with, they set off again.

  Only a few moments of riding had Sebastian's legs aching again. Relief came into view sooner rather than later. Below the crest of paved road rolled out the town of Claycot.

  The air was cool, a welcome treat, rich with the smell of earth and abuzz with small bugs. Claycot was illuminated in part, a sign it was quietly alive. It twinkled with the yellow lanterns that allowed hints at the white stucco of the homes. It was nested with discretion between a forest of oaks and the maw of a quarry.

  The sun had simmered down to a soft haze by the time they found Claycot. It had mixed with the fog and clouds that had rolled in, softening its blistering orange. The collective of trees added pillars of darkness that cut up and segmented the gentle blues. Above that, black and stars had begun to settle.

  There was a quiet din ebbing from the village which was an encouraging sign for Sebastian. He noticed with a moment of confusion how odd some of the homes were. Taller and longer, with higher set roofs and taller windows. However, not tall enough for a second floor.

  Then Sebastian remembered! Halkians lived here. It was rare to see the large, lumbering arthropods in Teichostro. Sebastian found himself searching the shadowy shapes of the homes and main street of Claycot to see if he could spot one.

  "Ah! No, Coconut!"

  Sebastian looked over just in time to see him deftly dodge the sign Coconut tried to walk him into. She seemed to bray a laugh as Valéry exchanged a glance with Sebastian. "Welcome to Claycot."