Chương 62: Where Magic Refused to Die

Reaching Lunar Arc required three days of walking, with only brief stops whenever exhaustion made continuing more dangerous than remaining in one place. Ronan avoided inns, villages, and official checkpoints. They slept beneath trees, inside an abandoned shepherd's shelter, and once under a stone bridge while wagons passed overhead. According to him, traveling on foot was the best way to move through the territory without leaving a useful trail behind them.

Sieghart looked down at the marks their feet created in the soft ground. His cloth wrappings had already worn through in several places.

"We are leaving tracks."

"Everyone leaves tracks."

"You said we wouldn't leave a trail."

"I said we wouldn't leave a useful trail." Sieghart stared at him from beneath the oversized hood. Ronan sighed before explaining. Hiring a carriage required money, names, and a declared destination. Stable owners remembered unusual customers, while drivers spoke with one another whenever they stopped. Purchasing horses would attract even more attention. Two travelers walking along common roads became part of the ordinary movement between farms, villages, and markets. Their footprints mixed with hundreds of others.

They could also leave the main road whenever Ronan sensed checkpoints or suspicious travelers ahead. People still saw them. Farmers passed in slow wagons, merchants crossed from the opposite direction, and patrols occasionally inspected the road. Almost nobody looked at them twice. Their dusty capes, worn supplies, and decision to travel on foot suggested that they possessed little money and even less importance. Most people ignored poverty unless it became inconvenient.

Ronan seemed happy to use that unpleasant habit as protection. Sieghart understood the logic, although it did not completely reassure him. His appearance made anonymity difficult whenever the hood shifted. Crimson hair was already rare throughout the region. Crimson hair with blond-tipped strands hanging over the right side of his head became almost impossible to overlook. His green eyes also resembled those of the Crimson Sword King.

Anyone familiar with House Emberhart could connect the similarities after studying him for more than several seconds. Sieghart repeatedly adjusted his hood whenever wagons approached. The gesture became annoying before the first day ended.

"Keeping a low profile feels pointless."

"It keeps people from seeing your face."

"Until the wind moves the cape."

"Then keep holding it."

"I need my hands available."

"For what?"

"Attacking anyone who recognizes me." Ronan looked toward him and decided not to ask whether he was joking. Sieghart was not entirely certain himself. The destruction of the farm would have been discovered by now. Smoke had risen high enough for distant travelers to notice, and nearby landowners occasionally visited during emergencies. Sooner or later, someone would find the graves beneath the old tree. They would inform officials, who would send the news toward the Emberhart estate.

His father would learn what happened. Sieghart doubted Alaric would ignore the murder of his wife's parents and the attempted assassination of his eldest son. Even a man as emotionally distant as the Crimson Sword King would have political reasons to respond. House Emberhart could not allow unknown enemies to murder people under its protection without consequences. Appearing weak invited rival factions to attempt something worse. Alaric would probably send soldiers to investigate the farm and search for Sieghart.

His mother might also become involved after learning her parents had died. That possibility produced no comfort. She had allowed years to pass without visiting them, and grief arriving after death could not restore the time she abandoned. Ronan seemed to reach the same conclusion about the search.

"Your father's people will start checking the roads."

"Then walking won't hide us."

"It will delay them."

"They know what I look like."

"They know what a clean, well-dressed noble child with unusual hair looks like. Right now, you resemble a small refugee wearing a stolen curtain." Sieghart looked down at the cape hanging near his ankles.

"You gave me the curtain."

"It was a perfectly respectable travel cape before you put it on." Sieghart lacked the energy to answer. The first day of walking had exhausted his body more than he wanted to admit. His increasing attributes strengthened him beyond an ordinary six-year-old, but his legs remained short. Every one of Ronan's steps required nearly two of his own. Sieghart used Protection to reduce the strain on his feet and legs. He occasionally released weak wind behind himself to make climbing hills easier.

Those methods preserved his stamina, but they did nothing against the exhaustion created by grief and sleeplessness. Whenever Sieghart closed his eyes, the farmhouse exploded again. He saw the roof falling, the fire spreading, and the ruined bedroom beneath the chimney. Sometimes Elara called his name before the blast. Sieghart always woke before reaching her. Ronan never commented on those moments. He merely checked their surroundings, offered water, and waited until Sieghart was prepared to continue.

The man's behavior remained difficult to interpret. He had spied on the farm for a month, yet he also saved Sieghart and treated his grief with more respect than expected. Ronan could still be leading him into a trap. Sieghart maintained enough distance to cast Water Cannon or Wind Blade if the man suddenly attacked. That caution probably did not matter. Ronan knew most of Sieghart's techniques and possessed far more experience fighting human opponents.

If he wanted Sieghart dead, he had several opportunities while they slept. His continued restraint provided more evidence that he intended to bring Sieghart safely to Lunar Arc. They rested for less than four hours during the first night. Ronan claimed remaining anywhere longer increased the chance of being tracked. The second day followed smaller roads used mostly by farmers. They crossed shallow streams, moved between wooded hills, and avoided two mounted patrols.

Ronan detected the riders several minutes before they became visible. He guided Sieghart away from the road and concealed them beneath thick vegetation. Sieghart sensed nothing until the patrol passed nearby. The experience reinforced how vulnerable he remained against specialized Auras. Infinite mana granted overwhelming potential, but information continued deciding whether he could use it. The assassin succeeded because Sieghart never realized a battle had begun.

He needed methods for detecting concealed enemies, protecting sleeping locations, and responding to threats outside his elemental range. Lunar Arc might possess techniques or enchanted tools capable of covering those weaknesses. That possibility did not mean Sieghart intended to join. He would learn whatever the guild offered, determine who ordered Ronan to observe him, and investigate the records concerning Seraphina Arclight. Afterward, he would decide his next step.

During the third morning, the landscape began changing. Farms became more numerous, roads widened, and stone channels carried water toward distant settlements. Small towers stood at regular intervals beside the road. Blue crystals rested inside their upper sections, glowing faintly whenever travelers passed. Sieghart studied the closest tower while they walked.

"What are those?"

"Guide beacons. They illuminate the roads at night."

"Mana stones?"

"Some use stones. Others can be charged manually." That answer suggested they were approaching a region where human mana possessed economic value. Sieghart increased his pace despite his exhaustion. Stolen story; please report. Shortly before midday, they reached the top of a wide hill. Ronan stopped there and pointed toward the horizon.

"There it is." The Magic City of Seraphina covered the land below. Sieghart had seen only smaller towns and military settlements since reincarnating. None prepared him for the city stretching across the valley. A high stone wall surrounded thousands of buildings. Towers, bridges, workshops, estates, markets, and public squares filled the space within. The river made the city extraordinary. It entered through the northern wall before curving around entire districts.

Several branches separated from the main channel, crossed between buildings, and rejoined farther south. From the hill, the waterways resembled a silver ribbon folded repeatedly across the city. They formed natural boundaries between districts while feeding canals, fountains, mills, and reservoirs. Dozens of stone bridges connected the separated sections. Some were narrow enough for pedestrians, while others supported several lanes of vehicles and market traffic.

Seraphina Arclight had founded the city centuries earlier. Rather than forcing the river away from construction, she designed every district around its changing path. According to Ronan, later generations expanded the original plan without destroying it. The result looked deliberate despite containing centuries of architecture. Water reached every major district through enchanted channels. The current also powered mechanical systems that reduced the amount of mana required for tools and transportation.

Sieghart stared at the city for several seconds before descending the hill. He attempted to remain focused on his objective, but curiosity repeatedly pulled his attention toward new details. The outer gate carried several lines of glowing runes. Guards inspected wagons while a rotating crystal above them recorded the movement of cargo. Ronan avoided the main inspection line and guided Sieghart through a smaller pedestrian entrance. The guards barely glanced at their dusty capes.

Inside the walls, magic appeared everywhere. Streetlamps contained rechargeable crystals instead of candles. Small metal plates near their bases allowed workers to replenish the stored mana without opening the lamps. Water pumps operated with a touch, drawing water from underground channels. Merchants used enchanted surfaces to keep food cold beneath the midday sun. A bakery displayed several metal ovens whose heat remained constant without burning wood.

The owner placed one hand against a rune whenever the orange glow began weakening. Even transportation relied upon magic. Several enclosed vehicles traveled along smooth stone lanes without horses pulling them. The vehicles moved slower than galloping mounts, but they carried passengers and cargo without animals, drivers cracking whips, or wheels struggling against uneven ground. Each vehicle contained a blue crystal near its front. The light inside dimmed gradually as mana became motion.

Sieghart slowed when one passed. The vehicle produced a soft mechanical hum while its wheels followed shallow grooves carved into the street. The old runesmith had complained that rechargeable equipment was losing popularity because mana stones offered greater convenience. In Seraphina, both systems existed together. Some tools consumed stones. Others used reusable crystals that citizens charged regularly, while mechanical designs reduced the magical cost of operation.

The city treated magic as infrastructure instead of an embarrassing substitute for Aura. Even weak mana reserves possessed value when thousands of people contributed small amounts. Public charging stations appeared near several intersections. Citizens placed their hands against crystal panels and transferred mana in exchange for copper coins or service tokens. Sieghart stared at one station long enough for Ronan to notice.

"Don't."

"I didn't do anything."

"You were thinking about charging the entire district."

"I was calculating how much they pay."

"That is exactly why I said not to." Sieghart continued walking. The income opportunity looked impressive, but revealing infinite mana at a public station would defeat every attempt to remain hidden. Ronan pointed toward several people using another charging panel.

"Many citizens descend from Seraphina's students. Their families have larger mana reserves than people in most regions."

"How much larger?"

"Enough to power household tools without exhausting themselves. A few families produce proper mages every generation." That still provided no useful comparison to Sieghart's mana. The distinction between large and infinite made ordinary measurements almost irrelevant.

"The river helps as well," Ronan continued.

"Seraphina designed the city so water pressure, current, and machinery perform part of the work."

"Reducing mana consumption."

"Exactly." Sieghart understood the principle immediately. His grandparents used weather and natural water sources to reduce the mana required for farming. Seraphina had applied the same philosophy to an entire city. Magic provided the initial control, while the environment carried most of the burden. That design made her seem more intelligent than someone who merely solved every problem with unlimited casting. Sieghart wanted to study the city eventually.

For now, he ignored Ronan's continued explanations and concentrated on the path ahead. Every passing hour allowed the assassin or their employer more time to disappear. The crowds also made Sieghart uncomfortable. Thousands of strangers surrounded him, any one of whom could possess an Aura capable of hiding murderous intent. He kept his hood low and maintained Protection beneath his skin. The spell drained no meaningful mana, while the mental burden remained manageable after years of practice.

Ronan guided him away from the central markets and toward a district near the western branch of the river. The streets became wider as warehouses and training halls replaced shops. A stone structure eventually appeared beyond a line of trees. Lunar Arc headquarters resembled a miniature castle built by several architects who disagreed about almost everything except the amount of stone available. A central keep rose four stories high, flanked by two shorter towers.

Outer walls surrounded a courtyard large enough for training and gatherings. Additional wooden buildings had been constructed against the original stonework. Some looked like workshops, while others probably contained storage or living quarters. A silver crescent crossed by a dark-blue arc hung above the main entrance. The emblem appeared on several banners moving in the river breeze. The building looked defensible without becoming unwelcoming.

Its gates remained open, and people traveled freely between the courtyard and surrounding streets. Sieghart heard the noise before reaching the entrance. Metal struck metal somewhere behind the walls. People shouted instructions, laughed, argued, and carried equipment across the courtyard. Ronan seemed relieved to see the guild. He relaxed slightly for the first time since leaving the farm.

"We made it."

"That depends on what happens inside."

"You could attempt optimism."

"I tried that once. The library collapsed on me." Ronan looked confused, but Sieghart continued toward the gate without explaining. The central hall was even louder than the courtyard. Several dozen people occupied long tables scattered across the chamber. Some ate large meals, while others drank despite the early hour. A group near the fireplace laughed loudly over a story involving a broken wagon and an apparently unfortunate monster. Two women argued over the ownership of a spear.

A broad job board covered most of the eastern wall. Guild members gathered around notices describing escort contracts, monster hunts, investigations, and requests for specialized labor. Staff members worked behind a reinforced counter near the back. They accepted reports, distributed payments, and prevented several impatient people from climbing over the furniture. The hall presented exactly the image Sieghart expected from a guild.

Random people behaved however they pleased, showing little concern for appearances or quiet order. Yet everyone wore some version of the Lunar Arc emblem. Their freedom did not weaken their loyalty. If anything, the guild seemed to survive because its members considered the building their shared territory. Several people noticed Ronan immediately. A heavyset man with a shaved head raised his mug.

"Ronan! You're alive!"

"Unfortunately for you."

"Did you get paid?" Another voice came from the table.

"If he did, he owes me twelve silver!"

"You said it was eight!"

"That was before interest." Ronan pointed toward the job board.

"Shut up and find some work."

"I have work. Collecting your debt." Laughter spread across the table. Ronan complained, but he still walked closer and began exchanging insults with them. Sieghart stopped several steps away. He had followed Ronan for three days with almost no rest. His grandparents were dead, an assassin wanted him gone, and the guild master represented his first source of answers. Ronan had apparently decided that discussing unpaid gambling debts deserved priority. Sieghart waited. Ronan continued talking.

Several guild members noticed the small hooded figure beside him. Their amusement weakened when Sieghart raised his head enough for them to see his expression. One man opened his mouth as if preparing a joke. He reconsidered after meeting Sieghart's glare. A woman wearing light armor leaned toward her companion.

"That kid looks angry."

"He's with Ronan. Wouldn't you be?" Sieghart ignored them. The air around him warmed slightly before he forced his mana to settle. Burning Lunar Arc's headquarters before meeting the guild master would probably weaken his position. Ronan finally remembered why he had returned. He looked toward Sieghart, saw the constant scowl on his face, and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. I need to take this grumpy guy upstairs."

"He's your creditor too?"

"He looks too smart to lend Ronan money." More laughter followed. Sieghart turned toward the staircase without waiting for directions. Ronan hurried after him before Sieghart accidentally entered a restricted area or found someone else to threaten. The upper floor became considerably quieter. Closed offices lined a long corridor, and thick carpets softened the sound of their steps. Ronan moved ahead and guided Sieghart toward a reinforced wooden door at the far end.

A silver crescent had been carved into its center. Before reaching it, Ronan stopped and lowered his voice.

"One warning." Sieghart looked up at him.

"Try not to annoy the guild master."

"You brought me here."

"I know."

"She ordered you to watch me."

"I know."

"Then why would I annoy her?" Ronan glanced at the office door.

"She has a short temper." A woman's voice immediately came from the other side.

"I can hear you, Ronan." Ronan closed his eyes. Sieghart studied the door and felt the smallest fragment of grim amusement since leaving the farm. Lunar Arc's guild master already sounded annoyed. At least one thing had gone exactly as Ronan predicted.