Svein wandered along the docks, savoring the sea breeze that softened the afternoon’s warm air, a sly smile tugging at his lips despite the stack of parchments and books he carried under his arms. As usual, he’d arrived late to his lesson, and Sage Avonn’s reaction had been far from lenient. As punishment, he’d been saddled with the thankless task of retrieving a set of documents and books across the city.

  Svein loved the port district, the bustle, the blend of cultures and stories that gave Celshore its unique charm.

  The young Adept shuffled along the docks, where merchants’ shouts of prices mingled with gulls’ cries and the lapping of waves against ship hulls. Such chores weren’t uncommon for him, but today, a heavier weight pressed on his shoulders, a vague unease he couldn’t shake.

  His errand ended with a mandatory stop at Evronip’s bookshop, famed for its exceptional collection of ancient tomes. Though Evronip had indeed helped him find the books Avonn sought, the bookseller was a relentless talker. Svein had half-listened to endless anecdotes about the mysterious origins of certain manuscripts or scholarly disputes over obscure treatises. But time was ticking, and he’d dawdled enough. Politely, he’d taken his leave of the chatty bookseller, arms laden with new volumes, and strode toward the Academy.

  Turning into a narrow street leading to the market, his eyes caught a familiar figure, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Near a stall, he spotted Margot, captivated by a display of colorful fabrics. Her cascading brown curls framed her delicate features with poetic grace.

  Svein slipped beside her.

  “Admiring or planning an impulse buy?” he teased.

  Margot turned, a playful glint in her eyes.

  “Maybe a bit of both,” she replied with a smile. “I fancy a new dress, something light. What do you think?”

  Svein studied her for a moment, admiring the dress she already wore, a creation of soft, refined fabric adorned with delicate floral patterns. It hugged her silhouette with subtle, graceful elegance.

  “I like the one you’ve got,” he said, his gaze lingering with undisguised admiration.

  Margot blushed slightly.

  “Flatterer,” she replied, tucking a strand behind her ear, her eyes meeting his briefly. “So, will you help me pick, or am I doing this alone?”

  Svein stepped closer, narrowing the space between them.

  “But of course, I’d be delighted to offer my humble opinion,” he said. “Choosing fabric for a new dress deserves our full attention.”

  Their hands brushed in a gesture both accidental and intentional as they leaned together toward the fabric stall.

  Svein picked up a sheer piece of cloth, letting it slide between his fingers.

  “What about this? The color would highlight the shade of your eyes.”

  Margot eyed the fabric Svein held, a fine, almost translucent veil where light danced on subtle emerald hues. She narrowed her eyes, a mischievous smile creeping onto her lips.

  “Transparent, Svein. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” she murmured, her gaze locking onto his with calculated intensity. “Are you suggesting something?”

  Svein raised an eyebrow, his sly smile widening.

  “Not at all,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “But for a summer dress… I think it’d be… refreshing.”

  Margot burst into laughter, a clear, joyful sound that turned heads around them. She took the fabric from Svein, studying it thoughtfully before letting it fall back onto the stall.

  “If I choose it, I’ll be the one handling the curious stares, not you. Unless you wear something similar,” she added with an amused smile, tilting her head.

  Svein crossed his arms, feigning deep thought.

  Margot arched a brow, amused.

  “Well, if it advances fashion… why not? Though I doubt it’d look as flattering on me as it would on you.”

  Then, with a mock-provocative raise of his brow, he held the fabric up as if seriously considering wearing it. Margot gave him a light tap on the shoulder, laughing heartily.

  “You’re impossible, Svein. Honestly, I don’t know why I involve you in my choices.”

  Svein flashed a teasing smile, savoring the effect he had on her. Margot had a habit of rolling her eyes with a smile, as if hiding the pleasure she took in their sharp exchanges.

  “Because you know I’ve got good taste,” he shot back with a hint of bravado, a playful spark in his eyes. “And because I know how to make you shine. It’s one of my many hidden talents.”

  He relished the chemistry between them, this blend of challenge and camaraderie. What he loved most was the way her brown curls cascaded over her shoulders, the dimple that formed when she laughed, and the vibrant energy in every move she made.

  Margot rolled her eyes, but her faint, barely visible smile betrayed her enjoyment of their banter.

  She turned to another stall, her fingers grazing a fabric with silvery sheen. Svein drew closer, his senses catching her light floral scent, a melody urging him to stay near.

  Margot held up one fabric after another, comparing them with a critical eye, while Svein offered his input.

  Finally, Margot settled on a fabric in soft hues, a satisfied smile on her lips.

  “There, decision made, and it’s largely thanks to your help,” she said with a soft laugh.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “I’m glad I could assist,” he replied.

  As they moved away from the stall, Margot glanced at the sun’s position, then turned to Svein with a curious look.

  “Shouldn’t you be at the Academy by now?” she asked, one brow slightly raised.

  Svein, jolted back to his duties, sighed.

  “You’re right,” he admitted. “Avonn won’t be pleased if I stretch this break any longer.”

  “I’m sure he likes you more than he lets on, despite his sternness,” Margot said with an encouraging smile.

  As they walked through the lively streets, Margot watched Svein with an amused expression.

  “You know, you might take your Academy duties a bit more seriously,” she teased gently. “Sage Avonn won’t always let you off with just chores. One day, he might be less forgiving.”

  Svein nodded.

  “I know.”

  She gave him an approving look.

  “Maybe one day you’ll become a respected, admired Sage Master.”

  Svein laughed.

  “A Sage Master, eh? Hard to picture, but who knows? Life has its surprises.”

  They reached an intersection, and Svein stopped, realizing he needed to head a different way back to the Academy.

  “I think this is where we part,” he said with a hint of regret.

  “Seems so,” Margot replied with a gentle smile. “See you soon, okay?”

  “Absolutely,” Svein said, his gaze lingering on her. “Take care.”

  “You too, Svein.”

  Then, she rose on her toes to plant a light kiss on his cheek.

  * * *

  Entering the classroom, Svein was met with a heavy silence. All eyes turned to him, including Sage Avonn’s.

  “Adept Svein,” the Sage began in a cold tone, “I hope your city adventures were worth missing most of my lesson. Perhaps you could enlighten the class on why a simple errand took twice as long as expected?”

  Svein stepped forward, avoiding his classmates’ curious stares.

  “My apologies, Sage Avonn,” he said, placing the parchments and books on the Scholar’s desk.

  Avonn fixed him with a stare, then, with a faint sigh, gestured for Svein to take his seat.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” he said before resuming his lecture, delving into a detailed history of the Hellenic Duchy’s agriculture.

  Svein settled into his usual bench, unrolling his parchments while trying to focus. Yet, despite his efforts, his thoughts drifted inevitably to Margot.

  The rest of the day dragged in dull routine, punctuated by a string of lessons that seemed to stretch endlessly. After applied mathematics, he tackled the basics of rhetoric. The late afternoon brought a theoretical astronomy class, where Sage Berald’s monotonous voice nearly lulled him to sleep several times.

  When the bell finally rang, he hurriedly packed his parchments, eager to escape the austere room for the livelier din of the dining hall.

  The hall buzzed with voices and the clatter of cutlery. Svein, tray in hand, scanned the tables until he spotted Alf, sitting alone in a corner. Without hesitation, he approached and dropped into the chair across from him.

  “Our friend the Sage Scholar isn’t joining us today?” he asked, setting down his tray.

  Alf, slightly embarrassed, averted his gaze.

  “Well… he’s… gone,” he murmured.

  “Gone?” Svein frowned. “Gone where?”

  “The Sage Masters gave him a mission… in the Free Imperial Kingdom,” Alf muttered. “Apparently, it’s urgent.”

  Svein raised an eyebrow.

  “A mission in the Free Imperial Kingdom? Must be serious for them to send him there,” he said with a touch of irony. “Maybe he’ll teach the king how to tie his laces, or some other noble service…”

  Despite his attempt at nonchalance, a pang of sadness crept in. The thought of Rhys’s prolonged absence left a deeper void than he cared to admit.

  Alf placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “He’ll be back soon. And he’ll have plenty of stories to tell.”

  Forcing a smile, Svein nodded.

  “Yeah, stories… That’s exactly what I’m looking forward to.”

  After devouring his meal, Svein felt the day’s fatigue crash over him. He stretched his shoulders, trying to ease the tension.

  “I think I’ll get some rest,” he sighed, rising from the table.

  Alf nodded.

  “Rest well. See you tomorrow.”

  Svein nodded in response and strolled toward the Adepts’ dormitories.

  Upon entering, the place was nearly deserted. A few students, buried in their books, whispered softly, but the atmosphere was settling. He approached his bed, set down his bag, and pulled out a hefty treatise on Air Naturomancy, borrowed earlier from Evronip’s bookshop. He ran his fingers over its worn cover, adorned with stylized swirls.

  Before opening it, a memory brushed his mind. He vividly recalled that day months ago, when, in a mix of panic and exhilaration, he’d felt an unknown force awaken within him. Pursued by city guards over an unpaid tab at a Pint Street tavern, he’d accidentally locked himself in a cramped storeroom. Panic surged, and a gust erupted from his hands, as if his blood itself vibrated. The wooden door flew open, slamming against the wall. At the time, he hadn’t understood what happened.

  He’d since gathered scraps of knowledge from various books. Eventually, he concluded he might be an Air Naturomancer. And now, this book might hold the key to understanding his power.

  He lit a candle and sat cross-legged on his bed. The opening pages focused on wind as a natural phenomenon: classifications of breezes, ocean currents, cyclone rotations, and measurement methods—rudimentary anemometers, fabric banners for direction, complex barometers tracking shifting pressure, all covered in detail. As Svein read these lines, punctuated by sketches and diagrams, a slight frown creased his brow: all this technical explanation felt far removed from magic. Where was the magic part?

  Then, turning a yellowed page, he found a two-step illustration: first, a figure with hands clasped over their abdomen, surrounded by undulating lines, apparently their inner energy. In the next, a whirlwind burst from their palms, an air current tracing a graceful arc.

  A shiver ran through him. This confirmed his suspicion: it required channeling inner energy. Without delay, he closed the book, shut his eyes, and recalled the sensation when the door shattered. The thrill, the shiver, the certainty something answered his call.

  Then he felt it, a small reservoir of energy bubbling within. He tried to grasp it, raising a hand toward the candle. His fingers trembled slightly, but his mind sought to align with that invisible flow. He inhaled deeply, letting warmth spread from his belly to his palms, then exhaled slowly. A faint current stirred around his fingers, making the flame flicker. It wavered, undecided, before extinguishing with a soft sigh.

  Startled, Svein froze, arm still outstretched, hand open, breathing quickened. He’d done it, something he’d thought beyond him moments ago. It wasn’t the grand whirlwind from the drawing, just a timid breath, but it was more than he’d ever managed.

  Quickly, he stashed the book under his bed, out of prying eyes, then slipped into the covers, his mind buzzing with excitement. He closed his eyes, trying to reclaim that energy reservoir he’d felt. He delved within, seeking that vibrant current that seemed to emerge from nowhere. But he found nothing.

  Fatigue hit Svein suddenly, heavy and inescapable. His thoughts muddled, and despite his excitement, his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. In an instant, he sank into a deep sleep, swept away by exhaustion.