Freshly bathed—a luxury I hadn’t realized I missed so acutely—and dressed in yet another set of simple, dark black clothes, I sat in a moderately sized private room within what I was told was the Arcane Sanctum.

  It felt something like a Mage’s Guild headquarters, I supposed, though much grander than anything I’d ever imagined.

  More importantly… why was I given plain black clothes again? Was this the height of children's fashion in this world? Or was it just an easy way to mark me as… something other?

  My thoughts were interrupted.

  “Please extend your arm,” the woman Lord Rockford had introduced to me as Lady Irene instructed.

  She had vibrant, fiery orange hair pulled back in a complex braid, startlingly blue eyes, and a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks that somehow didn’t detract from her stern, focused expression. A dark blue robe, intricately embroidered with gold thread that shimmered with arcane symbols, adorned her slender frame. She was, objectively, a strikingly beautiful woman, but her serious demeanor made her seem unapproachable.

  We sat across from each other at her large, cluttered wooden desk, which was strewn with all manner of curious tools: oddly shaped lenses, small, precise hammers and chisels, various crystals, and what looked like a set of miniature surgical instruments.

  On the way here, Lord Rockford had briefly explained that Irene was a talented Enchantress, a specialist in unraveling magical bonds. A "Spellbreaker," he’d called her. Apparently, besides items that enslaved you, there were also objects that could slowly drain your life force, make you sick, or simply become impossible to remove. Cursed items, basically. And Irene was the expert in dealing with them.

  As requested, I extended my right arm, palm up. The dull red crystal embedded in the center of the "Bracelet of Servitude" was clearly visible against my skin. Irene raised her hands, positioning them a few inches above my wrist, not quite touching the bracelet. Slowly, a soft, ethereal blue light began to glow around her slender fingers, pulsing gently.

  She sat like that for a long time, her brow furrowed in concentration, meticulously examining the bracelet from every angle as her glowing hands hovered above it. The silence in the room was broken only by the soft crackling of a fire in the hearth, where Pip had made herself comfortable, and Irene’s occasional quiet hum.

  Finally, the blue glow around her hands faded. She lowered them to the desk, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. “Hm,” she murmured, more to herself than to me.

  Looking directly at Irene, I raised a questioning eyebrow. When she met my gaze and saw my confused expression, a small, unexpected laugh escaped her. It was a surprisingly warm sound, and it only confused me more.

  “I’m not entirely sure how to put this,” she began, an unreadable but definitely amused glint in her blue eyes, “but… the bracelet didn’t work on you.”

  “What do you mean, it didn’t work on me?” I leaned forward slightly, injecting a note of deliberate innocence into my voice. “Does this… slave magic… often fail? Isn't that a pretty major flaw for something designed to control people?”

  Irene shook her head vehemently, her orange braid swishing. “No, not at all. Because this involves a highly complex combination of Blood and Spirit magic, specifically attuned to the wearer upon first contact, it’s virtually impossible that whoever placed this curse on the bracelet was an amateur. The enchantment is undeniably potent, the curse is two hundred percent present and active…”

  She paused, tapping a finger against her lips, her gaze distant.

  “…And yet, somehow, it didn’t take hold on you. Which is… very, very, very puzzling.” Her eyes refocused on me. “You might actually be the first person I’ve ever encountered, or even heard of, where this specific type of binding magic has failed to function. Unless…” Tilting her head, she scrutinized me. “You happen to be undead, or perhaps a golem… but that seems rather unrealistic, doesn’t it?” she mused, shaking her head again slightly.

  I swallowed hard, but this time it wasn't from fear of being undead or a golem.

  So that's how powerful Echo of Life really is, I thought, remembering the message from weeks ago. She, an expert Spellbreaker, thinks the only explanation for the bracelet failing is something impossible like being undead? It showed how powerful and unknown that blessing must be.

  A shiver ran down my spine despite the confirmation. Definitely better not to mention the blessing or where it came from then. Still, it was unsettling that my situation was apparently so far outside the norm.

  Seeing my thoughtful expression, Lady Irene carefully took hold of my right wrist. From her cluttered desk, she picked up what looked like a pair of sturdy steel shears or clippers. Positioning the sharp edges against the metal band of the bracelet, she applied pressure and, with a decisive snip, cut right through it.

  The severed bracelet fell onto the desk with a soft metallic clink. Curiously, the dull red gemstone embedded within it didn't lose the faint, barely perceptible internal glow it always seemed to possess. Frowning slightly at the strange resilience of the stone, Irene picked up the now useless piece of cursed metal and set it aside on a nearby tray filled with other dismantled magical curiosities.

  Gratefully, I nodded, rubbing the skin on my wrist where the bracelet had been moments before. A wave of pure relief washed over me. Finally free of that thing. The feeling of liberation was immense. But even as I savored it, Irene's confusion and her mention of Blood and Spirit magic sparked another question.

  My gaze flickered briefly towards Pip, who was, of course, diligently washing her face by the fireplace, utterly unconcerned by cursed jewelry. I nervously rubbed my now-bare wrist.

  “Lady Irene?” I ventured, meeting the enchantress's curious blue eyes again.

  The orange-haired woman blinked, her thoughtful expression clearing as she looked at me expectantly. “Yes?”

  “What… what happens now with Lord Ainsworth?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “And… what happens to us? To me and Pip?”

  She leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the ceiling as she considered my question.

  “Hm. I can’t tell you with absolute certainty, of course,” she said after a moment. “Lord Rockford informed me that Lord Ainsworth will appear before the Royal Court. The charges against him—murder, illegal enslavement, assault—are quite clear and supported by multiple witnesses, including Lord Rockford himself. Therefore, the trial will likely be concluded swiftly.”

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  She looked back at me. “Since you are a key witness, you will also attend the hearing. You’ll see and hear what becomes of Lord Ainsworth then.”

  A pause. “As for what happens to you… how old are you, Grim?”

  A crooked, nervous grin stretched my lips. “No idea…?” I offered weakly.

  Irene stared at me, her jaw slackening slightly in surprise. At the sight of her expression, I quickly tried to explain. “Well, it’s like this… I woke up a few days ago in a forest south of here with no memories. All I know for sure is that my cat, Pip, is Pip,” I gestured towards the fireplace, “and that I’m Grim. Beyond that… I unfortunately don’t know anything about my own life or past.”

  She nodded slowly, her expression softening with a touch of understanding, or perhaps pity.

  “I see,” she murmured. “Well, that complicates your options somewhat, but generally, there are a few possibilities for someone in your situation. You could be placed in an orphanage, assuming there’s capacity. You could try to leave the city on your own again, or… become homeless within its walls. Or,” she added, a little more hopefully, “you could seek an apprenticeship. With your magical potential, however new, that might be feasible. If you can find a kind Master willing to take on an amnesiac boy with no references, they might provide a room and board in exchange for your service.”

  I nodded slowly, processing that. The apprenticeship sounded the most realistic, the most hopeful. But what could I even do? I barely knew this world, let alone possessed any marketable skills besides my fledgling, chaotic magic.

  My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Pip, startled, leaped to her feet, fur bristling, instantly alert and ready to defend. The sight of my small cat trying to look fierce was, I had to admit, rather amusing despite the tension.

  “Enter,” Irene called out crisply.

  The door creaked open slowly, and a young man dressed in a brown and green messenger’s livery stepped inside. He bowed respectfully. “Lady Irene. The Court summons you and the boy. The hearing is scheduled to begin in thirty minutes.”

  Irene gave a curt nod. “Understood. You may go.”

  The young man bowed again and exited, closing the door behind him. With a weary sigh, she pushed herself to her feet. A small, knowing grin played on Lady Irene’s lips.

  “Ready?”

  “Shit, no!” The words just slipped out. Horrified, I clapped my hand over my mouth.

  Lady Irene’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she stared at me. I scrambled to my feet and bowed deeply. “Lady Irene, I humbly beg your pardon! I didn't mean to use such inappropriate language in your presence… it’s just…” Panic started to bubble up again. “I’m supposed to enter the same room as the King of this country? I don’t even know the proper customs! I’m supposed to be a witness and then… who questions me? The King himself? And how do I even address him? Sir? My Lord? My King? Your Majesty? Your Most Divine Arch-Magnificence of Utter Holiness?”

  I babbled, my voice rising with each increasingly ridiculous title I could think of.

  When Irene heard that last one, she clutched her stomach and started to laugh, a genuine, unrestrained peal of laughter that filled the room. Tears started to form in her eyes.

  But when she looked at me again and saw my genuinely terrified expression, her laughter died down, and her face softened.

  “Oh… I’m sorry,” she managed, her voice still a little shaky. “I briefly forgot the circumstances under which you arrived in Aegis. Please, don’t worry so much.” She came around her desk and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Aegis, and the entire Kingdom of Astoria, is a very humane place, truly. Even the King himself would not fault you for a mistaken address, especially given your situation. Someone from the King’s retinue would simply quietly inform you of the correct form, and that would be the end of it.”

  A gentle smile touched her lips. “And to ease your immediate anxiety, simply ‘Your Majesty’ is the correct form of address. Okay?”

  A heavy sigh of relief escaped me. That was one less thing to panic about. But I had one more concern, one I hoped the kind enchantress could help with.

  “Lady Irene?” I began. “Could Pip… could she perhaps stay here in your room while we are at the hearing? I’ll come back for her directly afterwards.” I asked as nicely as I possibly could. Please, please, please say yes.

  “But of course,” Irene replied, smiling warmly. “She certainly enhances the room’s decor, doesn’t she?”

  She made a sweeping, theatrical gesture towards the towering stacks of books, cluttered workbenches, shelves overflowing with strange ingredients, and half-finished enchantments that filled her workshop. Yeah, compared to all that organized chaos, Pip was definitely the highlight.

  Nodding my thanks, a wave of gratitude washing over me, I went over to Pip. She immediately flopped onto her back, wriggling and exposing her belly for rubs, which I promptly administered.

  “We’ll be back soon, okay, Pip? You hold the fort,” I murmured. Her response was a soft, affirming meow.

  Irene chuckled from behind me. “One could almost think she understands every word you say.”

  Laughter escaped me at that. Turning back to Pip, I mused, “That’s completely absurd, isn’t it, Pip?” She immediately let out another loud, clear meow, as if in agreement. This time, however, when I looked back at Irene, her expression was one of slight surprise, almost… skepticism, as she stared at Pip.

  After rejoining Irene at the door, I followed her out, pulling it shut behind me. Once it was closed, Irene raised her hand, made a quick, circular motion with her index finger in the air before the lock, and I heard a distinct click as the mechanism turned.

  My eyebrows shot up in surprise. She hadn't touched it. The lock had turned on its own, manipulated by invisible force.

  How did she do that? I wondered. Telekinesis? Or maybe she just manipulated the air inside the lock to turn the tumblers?

  “What magic did you use for that?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Some kind of key spell? Or lock-specific magic?”

  Irene gave me a slightly confused look.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, “bad joke. But I really am interested—what kind of magic allows you to lock doors like that?”

  She paused for a moment, then nodded. “Alteration magic,” she replied. “And my apologies as well, Grim. I suppose I thought someone who could, even if unconsciously, wield Gravity Magic on that level, might be familiar with such basic applications.”

  A small, wry smile touched her lips. “But now, let us not dawdle. We must be punctual,” she stated as we started walking down a long, stone-flagged corridor.

  We passed countless closed doors, turned several corners, and finally exited the main building of the Arcane Sanctum.

  It was a gigantic structure, more like a fortress or a small castle than a simple guild hall. The central courtyard was bustling with activity. People in robes of all colors hurried back and forth, some carrying stacks of ancient-looking tomes, others with arms full of strange, glowing crystals or bubbling alchemical ingredients.

  Here and there, mages were practicing basic magic exercises, sending sparks into the air, juggling harmless balls of swirling fire and water, or making small stones ripple and change shape in their palms.

  The air itself seemed to thrum with a low level of magical energy. A pang of envy struck me. Since arriving in this world, I’d only ever used magic to work, to fight, to survive. I’d never had the chance to just… explore it, to use it for fun or out of simple curiosity like these people did.

  Sighing heavily, my earlier relief overshadowed by a touch of melancholy, I followed Irene towards the main entrance of the Arcane Sanctum.

  A beautifully crafted carriage waited for us there, attended by a liveried footman. Oh? Isn’t this a bit much luxury for us? Was Lady Irene so highly respected, or did all high-ranking mages receive this kind of treatment?

  As we approached, the attendant quickly set a two-step staircase before the carriage door, opened it wide, and bowed deeply, holding it for us. Lady Irene entered without a word. I followed her in, murmuring a quiet “Thank you” to the attendant. He inclined his head slightly before closing the door firmly behind us.

  The interior of the carriage was surprisingly spacious, paneled with dark, polished wood and upholstered with plush red velvet cushions. We settled onto the facing seats. I had to admit, the cushions were incredibly comfortable. Leaning back, I savored the softness against my aching muscles… oh yeah, this was good.

  Lady Irene stared out the window, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, a faint frown on her face. I just leaned back and waited.

  And waited.

  Weren’t we supposed to be going somewhere? I frowned slightly and was just about to ask, “Lady Irene, shouldn’t we be leaving so—” when, of course, at that exact moment, the carriage door on the opposite side opened again.

  A tall figure stepped inside, momentarily blocking the light and plunging the carriage interior into shadow. As my eyes adjusted, I recognized him.

  Lord Rockford.

  Startled, I immediately tried to bow from my seated position, a rather awkward gesture. “Lord Rockford! What an… an unexpected pleasure to have you accompany us!”

  Lord Rockford, however, didn’t look pleased at all. His green eyes, holding that same unreadable expression, seemed to pierce right through me before he let out a heavy, weary groan.

  “I only wish the circumstances were happier…”