"What do you know of the sepals?" Eryndor asked some time into their walk.

Corrin raised his hand. "They're like, warrior-priests right?"

"Correct! One point to Corrin!"

You had to get the question-answering points while you could, especially with Wyn around, and Corrin bet Luscien was no slouch either. The second-year caught him staring and edged away, a bit uncomfortable. Another victory for him!

"But of course, that doesn't quite do them justice," Eryndor continued. "There are four sepals tasked with guarding Haoma, and they were not chosen for nothing. Each of them is on the level of a spirit knight. In fact, Sadof himself is even a bit stronger than I am."

"Seriously? Is the tree really that important?"

For a moment, it looked like Eryndor was going to say something, but he paused, as if stopping himself, before nodding. "Not only does it have cultural significance, but Haoma is responsible for much of this region's success. Many aren't aware of this, but compared to the rest of Aeora, in the central basin disease is less common, the average lifespan is higher, and the wildlife flourishes in greater abundance and health. A good portion of that can be traced back, ultimately, to the tree."

Corrin looked around at the busy streets. It wasn't obvious at first, but compared to Titan's Pass and Precipice—or hell, even the other cities they'd seen in the central basin—Liresil's populace was overwhelmingly healthy. The stalls burst with food, and for prices cheaper than he'd seen elsewhere. It was a place of abundance, and yet not gluttony.

"I get it then, that's pretty amazing," Corrin admitted. "So the sepals are the strongest in the city then?"

Eryndor paused thoughtfully. "I believe there is an adventurer who could contend with them, but broadly speaking, yes. The sepals each have a bond with Haoma from which they can draw power, atop their already formidable personal strengths."

"Awesome…" Corrin grinned.

It was shocking, he thought, just how large of a difference Eryndor's presence made. Though he hadn't seen Wyn's dream, or been able to assist in the chase, Corrin had felt the tension just the same. He'd never seen Wyn's hands tremble like that—the dream had really shaken him up, not that Corrin could blame him.

It had been almost a year since he'd fallen into the dungeon back home. Almost a year since he'd encountered the being who called himself Azoth. Every now and then, the memories would bubble back up, and he'd remember being in the dark with that thing. Wyn's dream had caused them to resurface once again. At his mention of the smoky black figure, even if it wasn't related, Corrin felt that familiar cold creeping up his spine.

At least, until they'd talked to the spirit knight. If Azoth was the cold at the edges of his limbs, then Eryndor was, aptly, the fire that beat the cold back. The way he smiled, the way he spoke, it reminded Corrin that summer was here, it was warm, and the sun was shining outside.

And Wyn's hands too, had stopped trembling.

"They have a bond with Haoma?" Wyn asked, a bit awed. "With a great spirit?"

"Indeed! It's one reason they're so formidable! In that way, they may be even truer 'spirit knights' than I!" He laughed at his own joke, though his stride didn't slow.

Luscien adjusted his glasses as he looked at Wyn. "It's not uncommon to have contracts with spirits or beasts. Though great spirits are rare from what I understand." The fox atop his shoulders let out a small, happy sound as he scratched its ears.

"I guess that makes sense." Corrin nodded, glancing at the admittedly adorable creature. Maybe he should get a bond. "Hey, what kind of fox is Kita? I've never seen one like him before."

"He's a Vulvix. They're native to the burning isles actually, but my family raises them in Taravast. They're strange things, because their lifespan is set—properly cared for, they'll live for precisely one hundred years, and not a day less or more. They rarely make it so long in the wild though. I've had Kita since I was two years old, and he's been with me ever since."

"That's amazing," Wyn said earnestly. "Do you use an aura-bond? Or do you supplement it with mana?"

"The former. It's much more effective. For such an integral part of my technique, any of the loss found in a mana-bond would be too great."

Wyn nodded. "And since you're usually close by, the draw from your reserves is minimal."

"Precisely." Luscien fixed Wyn with a look. "You're more knowledgeable about bonds than I thought you'd be."

"It's—well let's just say it's an interest of mine. I might consider forming one someday after all."

"I'm not sure that would be advisable," Eryndor shook his head. "For someone like young Genevisc here, who can use mana to fuel his techniques, losing some of his natural aura is manageable. Much less so for you, with your supply being so limited. You don't have the aura to spare maintaining a bond—the upkeep is one of the main reasons people choose not to form them."

Corrin suppressed a snicker, and saw Wyn turn his face to hide a smile of his own. Of course, they knew something Eryndor didn't.

"Thank you for the advice sir," was all he said in the end.

"Of course young Wyn." The spirit knight stopped moving. "We have arrived!"

Corrin looked ahead at the building they'd stopped in front of. Only one question came to mind.

"That's it?"

The modest wooden structure, with a green awning out front gave no indication it was the home of someone as important as a sepal. The wood was worn, but in good condition, and the ornamentation—complex patterns raised from and etched into the walls—was less complex than many of the rest of the buildings in Liresil.

"Sadof was never the type for luxury!" Eryndor laughed. "I understand Sepal Caln owns quite the manor in the upper boughs, but I've never visited myself, and I'm afraid Sepal Yyida is not very fond of my presence! Haha!"

With that, he knocked on the door—hard. Though in a way that Corrin couldn't put his finger on, it didn't sound quite right, almost like it was somehow muffled.

"Sadof! It's Eryndor!"

No response came, and after a few minutes, the door hadn't opened.

Corrin went to peer through one of the wooden-lattice windows, mashrabiya, as Kei had described them, and though the view was limited, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He saw into a dark living space, with matted floors and the low-tables that seemed popular in the city, but couldn't make out much more than that.

For a short time, Eryndor seemed deep in thought, muttering to himself in a way that felt out-of-character.

"...with the solstice so near?" He closed his eyes and focused for a breath.

Corrin felt a bit uneasy. "Is it possible that something could have… happened to him?"

Eryndor opened his eyes and frowned. "It's not impossible, much as I dread to imagine such a thing. However, the sepals are rarely required to do anything dangerous. In the past century, only one sepal has perished unnaturally—Sepal Nasrin, eighteen years ago. Liresil has seen war, yes, but the sepals always remain here, and to fight all four in the heart of their power is a challenge very few would dare."

Out of curiosity, Corrin asked. "What happened eighteen years ago?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea. I only know that it happened, not how or why." Eryndor shook his head, then took a deep breath, getting back on topic. "Alright! It seems we have no recourse but to break in! If it turns out nothing is amiss, I will apologize later!"

The spirit knight drew back a leg, and the air suddenly grew hot. Then, he let loose a kick that would've likely shattered Corrin's bones on impact.

But the door simply glowed a bright gold, and held firm.

"Hmm. Perhaps this then?"

Eryndor took a few steps back and drew his sword. The polished blade gleamed in the sunlight as he held it aloft, a beautiful piece of craftsmanship unlike any Corrin had seen. It must not be steel—but it looked almost identical save its crimson edge, which glowed faintly even when the spirit knight wasn't using his mana.

Corrin used his mana-sight as Eryndor adjusted his grip and lowered the tip of the sword, breathing in slowly. Hot red fire mana was beginning to swirl around him like a maelstrom of heat, blooming out around his feet like a cloak.

"First form!" The spirit knight shouted. "Burning wake!"

Eryndor's form blurred, and Corrin lost track of him for a split second. A boom cracked the air, and Corrin felt a pressure ripple over his skin just as Eryndor reappeared at the door, driving his sword into the wood.

Then there was a second noise, like thunder, as the two forces clashed. The whole building shook as flames erupted on the ground in the path the spirit knight had traveled, and Corrin and Wyn both staggered back in shock.

But the door still held, glowing the same defiant gold.

"Vexing!" Eryndor announced casually. "I'd expected his home to be warded against attack, but this is some top-notch work! What to do then?"

"Could we not try to circumvent the wards?" Luscien offered.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"We could if you happen to be skilled in the field! However I myself am not!"

Lusicen walked forward, pressing his hands against the door. Mana pulsed outwards from his palms, causing the door to glow gold again. Corrin couldn't really tell what he was doing, and when he looked at Wyn, Wyn just shrugged. After a few minutes of inspection, he pulled a notebook from his robes and began to sketch, drawing geometric lines and circles, erasing them, and drawing some more. Eventually he put the notebook back and shrugged.

"It's beyond me."

"The sepal are privy to many secrets of the spiritual. It's no surprise they would go to lengths to protect their homes . So tell me young Genevisc, how would you suggest we go about solving this problem?"

Luscien's brows furrowed. "Well, since circumventing it isn't possible, we could try breaking it? Though I'm not sure if I would be able to provide enough assistance, and the collateral damage would be high. I'd suggest siphoning then."

"You get half a point!" Eryndor smiled.

"Only half?" Luscien actually seemed a bit miffed at that.

"You're correct, breaking the ward would be difficult with just myself, especially in a city like this. It's best not to cause a huge scene. Starving it would work, but it's not the best solution at our disposal. So, half a point!"

"Starve?" Corrin asked. "Circumvent? I guess 'break' is self-explanatory."

"Methods of disabling wards," Luscien explained. "Siphoning, is when you disrupt a script or ward's ability to absorb ambient mana. For some half-baked scripts, the second it can't draw mana it will fall apart, but a real warding scheme like this one will have a source of stored mana so that it won't go out the second the ambient draw gets a bit shallow. All we do is set up a script of our own, prevent its mana-draw, and then slowly siphon off its stored power. This works on any ward set-up, so it's quite useful."

Erydnor interjected. "All true! However, siphoning a warding scheme like this will likely take quite some time. And we're on a deadline. With that in mind, we have a more effective method at our disposal! You forgot to consider one key option, young Genevisc!"

"There's only circumventing left! And we already agreed we couldn't do that!"

"Correct! We cannot. But of course, when you cannot solve a problem yourself, you need only ask for help from others."

"You mean—"

"It's time to lean on my status as a spirit knight!" Eryndor laughed. "Let us find some assistance!"

***

The adventurer's guild of Liresil wasn't far from Sadof's home, enclosed on three sides by a stone wall which curved and bent around the natural terrain of the hill, and pressed against the trunk of the spirit tree in the back. The wall and the towers surrounding it made it feel almost more like a fortress than a guild building, but the entryway was open, and wide enough for three carts to pass through at once. Inside was a lively open-air space, filled with small courtyards and tiled walkways. As they walked through that path from one end to another, Corrin caught a breath of smoke from a group sitting on low cushions around a strange device with a pipe coming out of the side.

"Hey you there boy! You look like you could use a new sword!" A voice called out from his left, a man gestured towards a collection laid out on a rug. "You strike me as a snapjaw bone kind of man—they take to water-mana well. Or perhaps this Yyida wood blade is more your style? Only four gold pieces just for you my friend!"

Corrin took one step out of line before Eryndor's hand on his shoulder corrected his path.

"That waster of yours is quite inefficient for mana—that much is true. However, neither of those are suited for you. Besides, this isn't the place for you to find a new weapon. I can requisition you something from the Kaelburn armory for the time being, but you'll want something custom-made in the long term."

"Okay…" Corrin deflated, giving a longing look back towards the swords.

Only one structure in the guild wasn't open to the air or open on multiple sides. The reception-building was long and flat, a relatively small building only housing employees of the guild. A window out front was the method of communication between them and the outside. Eryndor got in line, and after a short wait, approached the man working behind the desk.

"I'd like to post a job!" Eryndor announced, slapping an insignia—a silver medallion inlaid with a bright red gem in the center—down onto the counter.

The man took one look, and his eyes widened. "Yes! Of course sir! What are the details of the request?"

"I'm seeking the assistance of a mage with experience in wards—specifically ward breaking. The pay will be set at one gold piece!"

"Ward breaking?" The man grimaced. "Could I ask for any more specifics?"

"I'm afraid this is a confidential job!"

"I… see." He glanced back down at the insignia and sighed. "I understand. If you would sit at the flame-table, I'll send applicants there."

"The flame-table!" Eryndor laughed, looking to where the man was pointing. "Fitting!"

The flame-table was really just a wooden table with the character for 'flame' etched onto its surface, but they soon sat down. Eryndor put in an order with the food service, and soon they were munching on a platter of breads, cheeses, grilled vegetables, and strange dips.

"So what now?" Wyn asked, inspecting the strange, flat bread with a curious eye. "Do we just wait for someone to show up?" He gnawed at it testingly, then broke a piece off with his fingers and plunged it into a thick green paste before tossing it into his mouth. His eyes lit up.

Corrin snorted, picking through the veggies for some of the cheese.

"Patience is the virtue of a spirit knight!" Eryndor grinned. "However, our situation is serious, so we'll use our time a bit more productively than that." He waved down a passing adventurer. "You sir! Would you like some of this mezze in exchange for answering a few questions?"

The man shrugged, eyeing the food. "I'm not above a bribe." He sat down at the table and reached for a slice of thin, layered bread. "Whatcha like to know?"

"I'm just curious about the state of the city lately."

"That's pretty general."

"I'm not yet sure what I'm looking for! Anything of note?"

"Huh. Well, now that you mention it, a couple things have been a little abnormal for the past month or so."

Eryndor slid a coin onto the table. "How so?"

The man adventurer grinned and palmed the silver. He started talking about things that had been going on lately. Most of the information seemed pretty worthless—Corrin wasn't that interested in the man's current kebab-shop closing down. But after some more prodding, something real finally came up.

"The Ecclesia has closed off their entrances to The Underbough."

Corrin paused mid-bite. "The Underbough?"

"The dungeon beneath Liresil," Eryndor explained.

Corrin hadn't known there was a dungeon—though the size of the adventurer's guild made a bit more sense with that in mind. It was almost like a tiny village in and of itself.

"You said entrances?" Wyn asked. "There's more than one?"

"Sure there are," the adventurer said, leaning back. "The Underbough runs beneath the whole city, tons 'a branching paths like a whole system of roots down there."

Eryndor nodded. "There are four main entrances, two controlled by the guild, and two by the Ecclesia. But there's countless smaller exits and leaks springing up and being found all the time."

"Leaks?" Wyn sucked a bit of dip off his finger. "That doesn't sound great."

"Eh, it's not too bad," the adventurer waved him off. "A couple monsters pop up here and there, but we're able to keep 'em contained and kill 'em quick. Usually it's pretty rare, but it's been getting more common lately. Think we had four or five yesterday? Now that I'm thinkin' about it, that's probably why they blocked 'em off. Tryna investigate it on their own."

"When did the leaks start getting worse?" Eryndor asked.

"I didn't notice till a few weeks back," he shrugged. "But it was probably a bit before then."

"Good to know." Eryndor slid the man another coin. "Anything else?"

He talked for a bit more, but nothing else of note came up, and eventually Eryndor sent him on his way.

"The leaking seemed noteworthy," Luscien said as he nibbled on a piece of bread. Kita was curled up in his lap, taking a nap.

"More than you'd think at first," Eryndor nodded. "Haoma's roots bore relentlessly through the ground, growing with enough force to crack stone—including the dungeon walls. Like any tree, they absorb water and nutrients, but nutrients for a tree such as it aren't limited to the mundane."

Wyn seemed to catch onto something. "It sucks up mana?"

"Without the spirit tree to leech on the dungeon's energies, it's likely it would be classified as a named rank dungeon rather than a mere gold."

"Named rank?" Corrin asked. "Like the Tower of Heaven?"

"Exactly."

Luscien leaned in. "So if monster activity is increasing—and with the solstice approaching no less…" For once, his eyes actually seemed to flash with interest. He shot a look at Wyn. "I apologize, it seems your dream may have been more portentous than I gave you credit for."

"Hang on, I can kind of follow the first part," Corrin said. "If monster activity is increasing, you think that means the tree is leeching less, and getting weaker. But what does that have to do with the solstice? And couldn't the dungeon just be growing stronger instead?"

Eryndor crossed his arms as he explained. "Solstices and equinoxes are times of great power. Accordingly, the spirits wax and wane as they arrive and pass. For Haoma, as we approach the solstice, its powers should only increase, before reaching its peak in four days. That it is weaker than it was is cause for serious concern."

"What about the dungeon?"

"Dungeon's output don't change," Luscien said. "Barring outside interference, their ambient mana will remain constant. We have hundreds of years of study to back that up. Now, it's not impossible that someone would be influencing it somehow—we suspect someone is doing something, and we shouldn't rule it out. But there's no precedent for strengthening a dungeon, and considering your dream, the tree weakening is a better bet."

A clatter of boots interrupted the conversation.

"Excuse me?" A nervously high voice said. "Is this the table for a ward specialist?"

Corrin turned and found himself looking at a boy that couldn't have been more than five years his senior. His robes were formal but threadbare, a little too big around the cuffs, and he was carrying a notebook and small wooden case under one arm.

"So it is!" Eryndor boomed, standing from his seat. "And you're just in time! We've only just finished our platter!"

The boy took a step back, his eyes glancing at each of them in turn.

"Is it true you're offering a whole gold piece for the day?"

"Correct!"

He stood frozen for a moment, then quickly bowed. "I'm—my name is Nathae! I'm a graduate of the Liresil Institute of Magecraft with a concentration in wardcraft!"

"Commendable!" Eryndor clapped him on the shoulder. "How are you with bypassing wards?"

"Bypassing, sir? I would say I have skill in the subject. But I have to say if this is something illegal I—"

"It's nothing of the sort!"

Luscien glanced to the side. "Well…"

"It's nothing of the sort! Not so long as you're acting under my authority! Under section four of the unification pact charter, spirit knights of second class and above can supersede local law in matters concerning the security of Aeora as a whole." He held up the insignia once more.

Nathae stiffened, and Corrin along with him.

The security of Aeora? He looked at Eryndor. Was the spirit knight bluffing? Corrin didn't think it was that serious.

"Are you sure nothing will happen?"

"On the honor of the Kaelburn family," Eryndor assured him. "Assist me here, and I will personally recommend you for any position you may be searching for as a mage."

Nathae took a deep breath, then squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Okay, okay. I'll help. But can I get my payment up front?"

Eryndor pressed a gold coin into his palm, and the mage stared at it like he couldn't quite believe it. After a moment, he slipped it into his pocket, and his nerves seemed to settle.

"Where is the ward?"

"I'm grateful for your help!" Eryndor smiled. "We'll have Sepal Sadof's door open in no time!"

Nathae paled. "Wait. What?"

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