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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 21: Belmiard (1)

Chapter 21: Belmiard (1)

Unlike​⁠ noble gardens filled‌⁠​ with ancient works⁠ of art, the‍‍‍ streets of the​​ common folk reeked‍​ of dampness and​⁠⁠ decay. Only those‌​‌ familiar with them​ could truly understand‍‌‌ the disparity.

One’s​​ living conditions are‍ like a well-fitted​‌⁠ suit—easy to climb‌ into, but hard⁠​‍ to step down⁠ from.

Nonetheless,‌ Dereck felt completely​‍‌ at ease walking‌⁠ the tavern-lined streets⁠​‌ alongside an old​‍ friend.

“Noble‍‍⁠ trash would only‌‌‌ fatten you up‍ like a pig.⁠‌ When I heard‌​ you’d holed up‌‍ in that ducal⁠ mansion for months,⁠ I let out⁠‌ a huge sigh.”⁠

“Pheline,‍⁠‌ you worry too​⁠​ much. And not‌‍ all nobles are‌⁠ rotten.”

“Oh,‌⁠‌ look at you.‍ A few months‍ of luxury living⁠ and you’re already​​​ part of the‍​‌ household. Next thing‌ I know, you’ll​​ be pledging loyalty‌ as a knight.”‌‍‍

“Isn’t‍ that a bit​ dramatic?”

Dereck⁠ chuckled and glanced‍‌‌ down the tavern‍‍⁠ street. This place,‌⁠​ frequented by hardened⁠‍ mercenaries, was known⁠‍‌ as one of‌​‍ the roughest parts‍‍ of Ebelstain.

A place where people‌‍ would kill for⁠⁠ a handful of‌⁠ silver coins. Surviving⁠ here meant being⁠‍​ intimate with violence.‌ And Pheline, like​ Dereck, was a girl who earned‌ her living as‍ a mercenary in‌‍‍ these tavern-ridden streets.​

Don’t⁠⁠​ let her delicate⁠‌ looks fool you—she⁠‍​ could tear through⁠ dozens of Ain‌‍⁠ without even changing‌ expression.

Dereck​‌‍ and Pheline never‍ pried into each⁠ other’s pasts. But​⁠ judging by her⁠ occasional bursts of⁠⁠ hatred toward the‌ nobility… it seemed‍‌​ her family had​⁠​ also met an‍‌ unpleasant fate at⁠⁠ their hands.

That⁠ was just the​‍ way of the‌​ times. Though common,‌‍ Dereck wasn’t so‍‍⁠ insensitive as to⁠​‍ speak of it⁠​ in front of​‍‌ a victim. Nothing​‌‌ was more tactless‍ than offering an⁠⁠ “objective perspective” to‍⁠⁠ someone living a tragedy.

Even​ so, Pheline had​ grown up with​ a deep resentment⁠ for nobles, though​ she wasn’t closed-minded.‍‌ She might curse‌​ them behind their​‍‍ backs, but she​‌⁠ didn’t act rashly‍​​ in front of‌⁠ them and occasionally‍⁠ even accepted noble-related​⁠‍ jobs.

In⁠ the world of⁠ mercenaries, setting aside​‍ pride for money‍⁠ was common. Criticizing‌ her now for‌‌ hypocrisy would have⁠ been poor form.‌​‌ Here, survival equaled⁠​ righteousness.

Words⁠ like “coward” or‌ “sellout” were usually​‍ the laments of​​ those left behind.⁠​

—Creak‍‍

When⁠ they entered “Tears‌​‍ of Beldern,” a run-down tavern on‍ a tavern-lined street⁠​‍ corner, the yawning‍‍ bar guard glanced‍ their way.

“Boss,‍ look who’s here.”‍​‌

“Oh,⁠‌​ Pheline. And… isn’t​‌‌ that Dereck? What​⁠ an honor to‌ see the future​‍⁠ famous magic instructor​‍ of Ebelstain.”

“You’re​‌‍ as dramatic as‍​‍ ever, boss.”

As‍‍ Jayden scratched his‍ rough beard in⁠ greeting, Dereck smiled‌⁠‍ unabashedly and sat​ at the table.⁠

Though‍‌⁠ it was late,‌ the corners of‌‌ the tavern were​⁠‌ decently packed. Most​ patrons were mercenaries‌⁠‍ in gleaming gear,​ suggesting they preferred​⁠ a quieter spot‌ over loud crowds.‌‌

Not‍‍‍ wanting to interfere​‍ with Jayden’s business,‍‍⁠ Dereck spoke in‌​ a low voice.‌⁠

“Took​‌ longer than I thought. That fifteen-gold‍‍⁠ coin job from‌ Adel wasn’t as‌⁠ easy as it​‍ looked.”

“Of⁠​⁠ course. Since when​‌ is earning money‌ easy? It’s a fair deal, and​‌ quite profitable. In⁠‌⁠ fact, I might‌ owe you one.”‌⁠‌

Jayden​‍⁠ chuckled and poured‌​ fruit wine into​ a generously sized‌⁠‍ cup for Dereck.‌

Pheline,‌ not caring for⁠‍​ grace, downed hers⁠‌‍ in a single‌‍ gulp and let​‌⁠ out a hearty​‌‍ “Kahhak!” of satisfaction.​

Having‌​‌ grown used to‍‌‌ noble ladies sipping‍‌‌ tea with elegance,​‍ Dereck felt refreshingly​ grounded watching her​ drink so boldly.​⁠

Noticing‌ his gaze, Pheline‍‍ looked him straight⁠​‌ in the eye,⁠‍⁠ as if to​​ ask, “What are⁠​ you staring at?”⁠‌‍

“Why​​⁠ are you looking⁠ at me like⁠ that?”

“Seeing​ you, Pheline, feels‍ like coming home.”⁠

“That’s​ flattering, but thinking​‍ about you holed‌⁠‍ up in that​ noble mansion suddenly⁠ puts me in‍⁠ a bad mood.​ You trying to⁠​⁠ say I lack​⁠ dignity?”

“Yeah,‌⁠​ but you’ve never​⁠‌ liked pretending to⁠ be a noble,⁠​ have you?”

“Hmm…‍​⁠ can’t deny that.”⁠⁠

Pheline‍‍‌ re-tied her platinum-blonde⁠​‌ hair, taming the⁠ wild strands before​‌‌ securing it with​ a ribbon, as‍ Jayden pushed a cup toward Dereck.‌⁠‍

“A‌⁠⁠ toast to celebrate.​ Our one and‍‍ only magician from‍‍ the Beldern Mercenary‍ Corps has finally‌‍‌ returned. What could‍⁠ be more profitable?”⁠​

“Thanks.‌ But you’ll be‍ putting this on‌‍‌ my tab, won’t​ you?”

“Your​‍‍ sharpness is your⁠‌‍ worst flaw.”

Laughter⁠⁠ burst from Jayden⁠‌‌ and Dereck for‍ no particular reason.⁠ Dereck raised his‌ cup and took‍ a few sips.‌⁠‌ As he set​​ it down, Jayden​ crossed his arms‌‌ and asked:

“So,‍ did you get‌⁠​ all the money⁠‌ together?”

“Of‌‌‍ course. But that’s​ not the important⁠​‌ part.”

“What’s⁠​‍ more important than​ money?”

“More‌​ money.”

Dereck⁠ showed them an‌ old book strapped‌ to his belt.⁠‍

At​⁠ first, Jayden and⁠‌ Pheline glanced at‌‌‍ it indifferently. But‌‌ when they realized‍ it was a grimoire, their eyes⁠​ widened in shock.‌

“What…‍​‌ what is that?‍​​ Dereck, don’t tell​ me… is that⁠ a two-star grimoire?”⁠‌‍

“No,​ a three-star one.⁠​ I got it​ from the Duke’s‌‍‍ underground library.”

“…Three⁠ stars? I didn’t‌⁠ mishear, right?”

Pheline‍‍ leaned in to‍ get a better‍​ look at the⁠ book on Dereck’s⁠‌ belt.

Though‌ she had no‌​‍ knowledge of magic‍‌ and couldn’t judge‍‌ a grimoire’s level​⁠⁠ by sight, knowing⁠⁠ Dereck wasn’t the‍​​ type to brag,​‍‌ she couldn’t help⁠​⁠ but be amazed.⁠

Even‍‌ a two-star grimoire‌​ was nearly unreachable‌ for common folk.⁠‌​ Three-star grimoires were⁠ so rare they‍​⁠ sometimes showed up‍​ at exclusive noble‌‍‌ auctions.

Jayden⁠‌ also didn’t seem⁠‍‍ to believe the⁠⁠​ book strapped to‍⁠ Dereck’s belt was⁠ truly three-star, so‍‌ he checked it‍‍​ several times.

“They​​ gave something like⁠‍​ that to a commoner? Dereck, have‍‍‍ you learned to‌ brag like a noble?”

“I’m‍‌ just stating the​⁠‍ truth.”

“Don’t​ buy it.”

Pheline‍‌‌ took another swig,​⁠‌ trying to calm⁠‍ herself. “Lucky break”‍‍ was the perfect⁠‌ phrase for this.⁠⁠

If​ he sold the⁠‌​ grimoire at a fair price, he⁠⁠‌ could live far‍⁠‍ better, in a much better place,‌ with much better‌ gear.

It​‍​ was enough to⁠⁠‌ leave the lower-class‌‌⁠ life behind, if‌​ he wanted—but Dereck‍⁠ didn’t seem eager⁠‌ to sell the‍⁠ grimoire anytime soon.‍‍

“When‍ it’s time to‌‍ turn it into​‍‍ money, I’ll treat‌‌‍ you both to‌‌‍ something big.”

“Yeah,‍⁠ you better. And‍ make a solid⁠ donation to our‌⁠ Beldern Mercenary Corps.”‍

Jayden‌ laughed again. After‌ all, he genuinely⁠‍⁠ celebrated Dereck’s success.⁠‍

“So,‌‌ any new jobs‍ lately? I can‍⁠ start taking work⁠ tomorrow.”

“Don’t‍‌‍ worry about that.‍ As you know,​‌⁠ in this business,‍⁠​ there are never‍‍ enough mages.”

“But⁠​ Dereck, you just‌ got back. You⁠‍​ sure you want‌ to start working⁠ already?”

Pheline‌ spoke with a hint of concern,⁠ but Dereck dismissed‍‍ it easily.

“I’ll​⁠​ start with some‍‍ light monster hunts.​‍‌ I’ve gotten rusty⁠‍ after all that‌⁠​ rest in that​​ cushy noble mansion.”‌⁠‍

At⁠ Dereck’s lament, Jayden‌ chuckled softly.

***​‌

Starting​⁠ the next day,​​ Dereck spent his‌​⁠ time taking on‍ various monster-hunting assignments​⁠⁠ that came through‍​ the Beldern Mercenary​​⁠ Corps.

His‌​​ peaceful days felt‌‍ like a distant⁠‌ memory as he⁠ explored the outskirts‌⁠​ of Ebelstain, slaying⁠ monsters in droves.‌‌

Sometimes​⁠‍ he worked alone;‍⁠​ other times, he‌‌ wandered with Pheline.⁠‌ As always, there‌ was no shortage‌ of work.

Goblins,‌‍ trolls, gremlins, and‍‍ similar creatures roamed⁠‍ near the borderlands⁠‍‌ regularly. Many were​‌ monsters that had‌⁠​ escaped nearby labyrinths⁠⁠⁠ and began attacking‍‌⁠ merchants and travelers,‍⁠⁠ requiring periodic hunts.‍‌ For mercenaries, hunting‌⁠‍ such creatures was​‍‌ often their livelihood.‌​

There⁠ were also smaller‍​ tasks—driving off beggars​ encroaching on territories,⁠ roughing up thugs,​​‌ removing troublemakers harassing⁠⁠ merchants, and even‌ simple escort missions.‌⁠ Dereck’s range of‍‍​ tasks was broad.​‍

He‌​ wasn’t picky, accepting‌ anything he could‌ manage. As he‍‌‌ had since his‍‍⁠ youth, he gave‍ it his all.​‌ During the day,‍⁠‌ he roamed the‌‌‌ tavern streets, earning​​⁠ the trust of⁠ clients, and at⁠ night, he took⁠‍ shelter in his‌‍ quarters in the⁠⁠ commercial district, studying⁠ the grimoire.

On⁠‌ hunting days, he‍ focused on using‌ untested spells to​‌‍ improve his mastery,‌‌ and on his‍‌⁠ days off, he‌ practiced mana control​‌ alone in the⁠⁠ grasslands outside Ebelstain.‌‌ He kept so⁠​ busy that time⁠⁠‌ flew by like⁠⁠ an arrow.

By‌​​ the time Dereck‌‌ returned to the‌ tavern streets, it​ was late spring.​ Before he realized‌​‌ it, summer had⁠‍​ passed, and autumn⁠​‍ was approaching.

Throughout⁠⁠ it all, he‍ never allowed himself​‍ to slack off,⁠⁠‌ constantly refining his⁠​ magic. One of​⁠‍ Dereck’s greatest strengths‌ was his unwavering⁠‌‍ consistency.

“…Hmm.‌ I feel like⁠ I can almost​‌ reach it, but‍‌ it slips away.”‌‌

Dereck,‍ who practiced magic⁠ in the fields‌​ outside whenever he‌⁠‍ had time, stretched‍⁠‍ his hand toward⁠⁠ the sky.

The‍​ boy longed to‍‌ become a three-star‍​⁠ mage.

It⁠⁠​ might have been​‌ an overly ambitious‍⁠‌ dream for someone‌‌ his age, but‌ he never stopped​ training in magic.⁠‌⁠

Among​ the nobility, there‌‌ were prodigies who‌ reached three-star rank⁠​ during their coming-of-age‍ ceremony.

It‍ might have sounded‍​​ like a fairy‍ tale to commoners,‍‍ but for Dereck,‌‍‍ who had mastered‍ magic faster than‌ nobles since childhood,‌‍ it wasn’t an​⁠​ unrealistic story.

With​‍​ that hope, Dereck​ absorbed the three-star‍‌ grimoire every day.‌⁠ Yet the barrier‍⁠⁠ to three stars‌ was not easy​ to cross. He⁠⁠ felt something vital‌​‍ was still missing.​

Still,​ all Dereck could​‍ do was keep⁠‌‍ trying. Even those‍‍ born with innate‍ talent had to‌⁠ put in the​‍ corresponding effort to‍ see results.

He‍​⁠ rarely slept more​⁠⁠ than four hours⁠ a night, and​ the cost of​‌ candles for reading‍​​ grimoires every night⁠⁠ was a burden.‌​ But he saw‌​ it as an‌⁠ investment.

By‍​ the time Dereck’s‍ magic had matured‌ enough to handle‌‌‌ two-star spells, the​‍ leaves had fallen,‌ and the first‌​ snow began to​ descend.

—Bang!‌

The‍‍ tavern “Tears of​⁠⁠ Beldern.”

When​‍​ the creaky wooden‌ door burst open,‌‍‌ Dereck appeared, covered⁠‌‌ in blood.

The‍⁠⁠ heat from the‌ fireplace filled the⁠‌⁠ tavern as the​ cold from outside​ crept in. A few snowflakes floated‍​ in, hitting the​‍ wooden floor and⁠‍⁠ quickly melting into‍​ droplets.

The‌⁠ patrons, enjoying the​ cozy atmosphere and‌​ sipping beer on⁠‌ a winter night,​⁠‌ swallowed hard when​ they saw the⁠⁠‌ boy at the⁠⁠​ entrance.

The‌⁠‍ boy, with hair‍‌‍ as white as‍‍ snowflakes, showed no‌⁠ change in expression.‌⁠ Though covered in‍‌ blood, he appeared‍‌​ uninjured.

It⁠‍​ was clear the​⁠⁠ blood wasn’t his.​‍

With⁠‌ boots caked in​ thick snow, the‌​ boy entered, carrying⁠ the head of⁠​‍ a massive beast‍ slung over his​‍‌ shoulder.

Behind‍ him, Pheline rushed‍​ in and darted​‌‌ to the fireplace⁠⁠ to warm her​‍ hands.

“Ugh,​⁠​ it’s so cold,⁠ so cold! Boss,⁠​ hot tea, please!⁠ My fingers are‌⁠ freezing off!”

Ignoring​ Pheline’s drama, Dereck​ walked forward and‍ dropped the massive‍‌ harpy’s head onto‍​‍ the bar counter.​‌​ The pungent smell‍⁠‍ of blood intensified.​

“Took⁠⁠⁠ a while.”

“Wow,​‍ you really went‍ into the heart‌⁠ of the Kent⁠‌​ Mountains in this⁠‍ weather? Such resilient‌‌ youth.”

“I‍ admit, it was​⁠ a bit reckless.⁠‍ I’m not camping‌ in snow again.​ I almost froze‌⁠ to death.”

“What​​‌ does it matter?‍ It’s good to​ endure hardships while‌‌⁠ you’re young.”

As⁠⁠ Dereck removed his​ leather gloves, stained⁠ with monster blood,‍⁠ and set them‌‍ on the bar,‌ Jayden quickly carried​‌‍ the grotesque harpy⁠​ head to the​‍‌ back workshop.

After‌⁠ a brief discussion⁠‍ on how to​​‌ complete the bounty,⁠​⁠ he served a hot drink made‌⁠ from honey wine.‌‍‍

Across​‍ the tavern, the⁠‌ customers—mostly mercenaries—whispered in‌ hushed voices. They​ could easily guess​‌ the identity of‌ the blood-covered boy.​‍

Dereck‍​ was making a name for himself‌ in Ebelstain’s mercenary⁠⁠‌ world.

There​‍⁠ were many mercenaries,‌ but few who‍ consistently completed their‍ missions—and even fewer​​‍ who stuck with‌‌​ it.

Clients​⁠⁠ lined up to‌‍⁠ entrust him with⁠​ jobs, and Jayden,⁠ caught in the⁠‍ middle, had to⁠‍ carefully choose which⁠ to accept.

“….”​

When‍ Jayden brought him⁠ a cloth soaked‍‍‌ in warm water,‍‌‍ Dereck used it​ to wipe the​​ dried blood from‍⁠ his face. Without⁠​​ glancing at the‌​ whispering mercenaries in⁠ the corner, he​‍ checked his gear.‌

Dereck’s⁠ income had multiplied‍⁠‍ since his youth,‍ and by saving‍‌⁠ even the money‌ he received from⁠‌ the noble Duplain‌‌ family, he had‍⁠ more than enough‍ to live on.​‍⁠

Maintaining⁠ this pace meant‍​‌ that buying a wand or staff‍⁠​ of his own,​ though expensive, was⁠‍‍ no longer a far-off dream.

“You’ve‍‌ worked hard, Dereck.⁠‌⁠ No one else​ would brave the​ snow and climb‍ a mountain to⁠⁠⁠ bring back a harpy’s head.”

“Don’t⁠‍ other groups hunt​‍​ monsters regardless of‍⁠ the weather?”

“They​ bring camping gear‍​ and go out⁠​ in large parties.‌ None of them​‍‍ do it like⁠​⁠ it’s a stroll⁠ through the hills.”​⁠⁠

“…It‍⁠ didn’t feel like‍ a stroll. I nearly froze to​‍ death.”

“Yeah,⁠⁠​ yeah. I’ll make‌ sure you get​ properly compensated for⁠ this job. The⁠⁠ client knows it‌ wasn’t easy.”

Jayden⁠⁠ chuckled as he‍ arranged some glasses.‍‍‍

He​​‌ stayed busy cleaning⁠‌ up, knowing that‌‍ once everything was‍‍ sorted, Dereck would⁠‍ return to his‍​‍ lodging to rest.⁠⁠‍

“You’ve​​‌ been through a lot. Want to⁠‌ take a break?”​​

“Any⁠‌ new jobs come​ in?”

“Would‌⁠​ be stranger if⁠‌ they didn’t.”

“I⁠ was planning to​⁠‌ rest tomorrow, but⁠ after that, I’m⁠‍⁠ ready to take⁠⁠ anything available.”

Dereck‌​‌ answered indifferently as‍ he tightened the‌​‌ laces on his‌‌ boots.

Seeing​​ Dereck ready for⁠ another mission after​ such an ordeal,​‌‍ Jayden couldn’t help‍ but click his​ tongue.

Still,‌​ having an active‍ mage in the‌‌ mercenary group was‍‍​ a blessing. Jayden‍‍‌ chuckled as he‌ rummaged through a pile of papers‍‍ under the bar.‌‍​

“Even​⁠⁠ so, after such‍​​ a ruckus in‍⁠‌ the snowy mountains,‍ you must be‌⁠ exhausted. Better if⁠​​ the next job⁠​⁠ doesn’t take too⁠‍ much effort.”

“Hmm…‍​ There’s a simple‍‌ job with decent⁠ pay that just‍‌ came in.”

“Where​ the hell do‍‍​ you find a job like that?”‍‍​

“Well,​‌ there’s always a reason a job⁠‍ is easy and‍‍‍ well-paid. You can‌ decline if you’re‍‍‍ not interested.”

Jayden‍ placed a job⁠ request form on‌⁠ the bar counter.‍‍

“It’s​ from Count Belmiard.⁠‍ The Rohel Mercenary‍​ Group over on⁠‌ West Street already⁠​ turned it down.‌ They’re looking for‌ someone who can‍‍ use magic.”

“…A​​⁠ noble’s request was⁠‍ rejected? Rohel is⁠‍⁠ a big group,‌‍‌ aren’t they?”

“Yeah,‌‌ strange situation.”

It​ wasn’t common for⁠⁠ prominent noble families—well-staffed‍ with commoners—to submit‌ requests to mercenary​ groups. The more‍​ powerful the authority,​⁠ the more surplus⁠‍ manpower they had.​‌

That’s‍ why requests from‌‌ noble families were⁠‍ rare, especially well-paid‌‍ ones. Nobles were‍‌ known for extravagant‍‍ spending.

Naturally,‌‍ mercenaries competed fiercely⁠‍‍ for such noble⁠ jobs.

Last⁠‍​ spring, the Beldern‌ Mercenaries were only⁠‌‍ able to land​​​ a job from‍ the Duke Duplain​​ because Lady Aiselin​‌ had spread the​⁠​ request far and​​ wide in search‍⁠​ of a tutor​‌ for Diella.

Normally,⁠⁠‌ a small group​ like theirs wouldn’t​‌ even get a glance from noble⁠​‌ families.

Dereck‍‌ narrowed his eyes​ as he read​‍⁠ the request.

“…Yeah,‌ there’s always a reason.”

Count​ Belmiard’s family was​ looking for a commoner to help⁠‌​ with a magic​⁠⁠ duel. The notice‍ said anyone capable‍⁠​ of using first-level​⁠ magic would do.⁠⁠

There‌‍ were likely plenty⁠‌ of duel opponents​ within the noble​​ mansion. Requesting a commoner specifically was‍ essentially looking for‌ someone to beat⁠​ up for practice.⁠

There‌​‍ was no logic​ in a commoner⁠ trying to outperform​ a noble mage—and⁠⁠⁠ hardly any could.​​‍

Dereck​⁠⁠ seemed to understand​⁠ why no one‌ had taken the⁠⁠ job. It was⁠⁠‍ rare to find‌ active commoners who⁠‍ knew magic. They‍‌ had more lucrative‌ work options and​ wouldn’t bother with⁠‍‌ a job that⁠‍‌ only meant being​‍⁠ humiliated.

Even‍‍ the mages of⁠‍⁠ the Rohel Mercenaries‍‍ had their own​‌‍ hunts and escort⁠ missions; none of‍⁠ them wanted to⁠‍ be punching bags‌​ for moody nobles.⁠‍‍

The‌​​ pay wasn’t good⁠‍⁠ enough to make‌‌ it worth it—especially‍ for a noble⁠ job.

“So‍​​ I just have‌ to participate in⁠​ a magic duel⁠⁠⁠ in the noble​⁠​ district?”

Still,⁠ Dereck was too​ exhausted from the⁠​ long harpy hunt.‌

He​⁠‌ didn’t want a job that required​​ traveling far, so⁠⁠ he preferred something⁠⁠⁠ that fit.

“You​​ taking it?”

“Just⁠‍ lose with dignity‌​ and take a few hits. Sign⁠​⁠ me up.”

“If‍ you’re okay with⁠‌⁠ that, then fine.”⁠⁠‍

Dereck​‌ spoke so casually,⁠​ stomping the floor‌‍ a couple of‌ times with his‌ fitted boots, slinging‌​ his leather bag⁠⁠ over his shoulder,‍ and standing up.⁠‍

“The⁠⁠ mead was good.”⁠​​

“It’s⁠⁠ going on your‌‍ tab, friend.”

“Knew⁠​​ you’d say that.”⁠⁠‌

Dereck‍⁠ planned to go‌‌​ home, bathe, and⁠‍ study his grimoire.‍ Even after the⁠⁠​ long trip, he‌​​ had no intention‌‍ of neglecting his‌‍‌ magical training.

Seeing‍​ Dereck always on​‍ the move, Jayden‌ waved him off.⁠

“Pheline.⁠ You’ll burn yourself‌‍‌ if you sleep​‌ there.”

“Eek!”⁠

Pheline,‍⁠‍ dozing off in​⁠​ the warmth of⁠⁠‍ the fire, jerked‌‍ awake in a panic.

Dereck​ said his goodbyes‌ and opened the⁠ wooden tavern door⁠ once more, facing‍ the freezing winter‍‌​ night.

The⁠ patrons sipped their‌‍​ beer in silence,⁠ watching Dereck’s figure‍ disappear into the⁠ snow-filled dark.

Time​ had forged the​ boy.

Braving⁠⁠‌ the storm, his‍‌ silhouette returning to‍⁠‍ his lodging was⁠ that of a seasoned mercenary, weathered‍‍⁠ by experience.

A year had passed.‍‍

Soon,​ on his birthday,‍ he would turn⁠​ 17.

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