Zenith of Sorcery

After separating from Pellast and Elid, Marcus went to check up on the mercenary blockade. He found it to be thorough and alert, with numerous warriors patrolling the area. They all wore gambesons with the same green-and-white pattern on it and wielded similar-looking swords and spears, so they were probably all members of the same mercenary company and not just a collection of warrior adepts with no prior organization.

Marcus didn’t see anyone he would describe as powerful here. Thus, his first thought was that he could just push through it, intimidating whoever was in charge with his status and might. These mercenaries might look disciplined, but their kind was not exactly known for their self-sacrificing nature. However, the more he thought about the idea, the worse it sounded in his head. The mercenary guilds were genuine local powers, not just a band of rogue adepts. If they dared to challenge Crystal Mountain like this, they had to have someone backing them. Making a scene here risked making that someone into his enemy, embroiling him in a conflict he did not care for. And for what? Wasn’t he trying to stay out of sight of any of the big powers until he found out what had caused a second Academy war to break out? This definitely wasn’t the way to do that.

“Hey! Hey you! What are you looking at!? The road is closed!”

Marcus looked to the side, towards a small cluster of tents the mercenaries had set up by the side of the road. A tall, powerfully-built man had left one of the tents at some point while Marcus was studying the patrols and was walking towards him with purposeful strides. Unlike the warriors around him, he did not wear green-and-white armor, but was instead clad in heavy fur clothes made from some great beast. There was a fancy-looking sword hanging off his belt, and the man kept one of his hands firmly on the hilt as he approached – an unspoken threat or just a healthy amount of caution when facing an unknown mage?

A few years ago, back when Marcus had been younger and prouder, this kind of aggressive approach would have been enough to instantly light up a spark of defiance in Marcus. He would have taken an equally aggressive stance himself, and the whole thing would have eventually devolved into a fight. However, time and experience in unfamiliar lands had blunted some of that edge. He was more certain than ever that fighting here was a bad idea, and resolved to handle this in a peaceful manner.

As he got closer, the man suddenly slowed his pace, frowning for a second before schooling his features and pressing on. At the same time, Marcus also grew a little more wary of the newcomer.

All the mercenaries Marcus had seen today were warrior adepts, and the man approaching him was the same. Marcus was not really capable of judging the skill and power level of a different type of adept at a glance – it was hard enough to do that when faced with his fellow mages – but some things were always obvious.

The man in front of him had a spirit, just like Marcus. He was, at the very least, equivalent to a spirit manifestation mage.

With that in mind, he studied the man more carefully, trying to identify him. People of this rank were extremely rare, meaning it was possible to know the name and basic description of every single rank five adept in a given region. Any self-respecting powerhouse would track down any and all information about other powerhouses living around them. Naturally, Marcus had long since memorized descriptions of every powerful individual in the Silver League… but his information was six years out of date.

The man in front of him looked young. Shockingly young for someone who broke through the limits of mortality and became a spiritual being. The swordsman looked like he was in his early twenties, meaning he had only started his real training when Marcus had left the Silver League. If so, no wonder Marcus couldn’t recognize him.

It was a little strange to see a young prodigy like that working for a small mercenary guild instead of joining a great power like Crystal Mountain, but it wasn’t entirely unheard of. People like that tended to be prideful and impatient to grow fast, which could make working with an established faction difficult. It was something Marcus was very familiar with…

Eventually, the man stopped, keeping a healthy amount of distance from Marcus. The two eyed each other warily, both silent. Some of the mercenaries had stopped their patrol to watch the confrontation, whispering too quietly for Marcus to puzzle out the words. The atmosphere was oppressive.

“Are you a spy?” the man suddenly demanded.

“Perish the thought,” Marcus said. “I’m just a traveler.”

“Spirit manifestation traveler?” the man asked dubiously.

“Spirit manifestation mages also travel, same as any other person,” Marcus countered. “Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves?”

The man snorted derisively. “General Marcus, if I’m not mistaken?” he asked. He didn’t wait for Marcus to respond. “I am Timijan, leader of the White Pine Mercenary Guild.”

Marcus was not surprised that Timijan knew who he was. Even though Marcus had been gone for a while, people still knew he was alive and could decide to return at any time. And he had been a spirit manifestation mage even before he’d left.

“I am no longer a general,” Marcus said. “But yes, I am the Marcus you’re thinking of. Pleasure to meet you.”

“They say if you had been leading the forces of the Great Sea, they would not have lost so badly in the last war,” Timijan continued, not returning his pleasantries.

Marcus was quiet for a second. He managed to keep his stoic façade, but internally he was shocked. Great Sea… lost?

“I’m sure Crystal Mountain would have also fared a lot better if they had young talent like you working for them instead of blockading their roads, but that’s not how things worked out in the end, did they?” Marcus eventually said.

Marcus had no idea what he was really saying with that. He just didn’t want to admit to Timijan that he had actually just come back here and had no idea what had happened in the past six years. If need be, he was prepared to act all mysterious and dispense cryptic nonsense, just so he didn’t have to admit ignorance.

“Anyway, I’m just passing by, nothing more,” Marcus continued. “I was just curious and wanted to see this blockade you’ve erected with my own eyes. I harbor no hostility towards you or your group.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” Timijan said gravely. “Aren’t you a friend of Crystal Mountain? The savior who drove Veldoran’s army away when the academy was about to fall to his forces?”

Marcus barely stopped himself from bursting into laughter. Timijan thought Crystal Mountain would ask him for help? Marcus counted himself lucky they weren’t sending a constant stream of assassins aiming for his life.

Probably because they were too worried what would happen to their precious tablets…

“I don’t have any army with me this time,” Marcus pointed out. “In fact, I am all alone here, without any other adepts to support me.”

“That is true,” Timijan conceded. “It would be incredibly bold of you to try and break us up all on your own…”

There was a second of silence as Marcus waited for Timijan do or say something else, or otherwise indicate that the conversation is over, but the other adept simply kept staring at Marcus with uncomfortable intensity.

“Well!” Marcus suddenly said, tapping his staff against the ground to punctuate his statement. “My curiosity has been satiated! Good blockade, impressive discipline! I will be leaving now.”

“Wait,” Timijan suddenly said, just as Marcus was turning away. “We should fight.”

Marcus hesitated, his body frozen mid-turn. He gave Timijan a strange look. “No, we shouldn’t,” he said simply.

“Don’t you feel it deep inside?” Timijan asked, his voice even, but his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Your blood boiling at the thought of testing yourself against an unknown spirit adept? A clash of wills and magic, to prove yourself stronger and test your skills against a real opponent! Is there any higher calling than that?”

Oh no… a battle fanatic…

Marcus knew people like this. There was no point in simply refusing to fight Timijan – the man was looking for a fight, and he would get it, no matter how much he had to provoke Marcus or escalate things. However…

“This is neither the time nor the place,” Marcus told him seriously. “I have urgent matters to attend to, and you need to be in your best shape to counter any Crystal Mountain attempts to drive you away from the area. How about this? I will be returning to the Great Sea Academy soon and will stay there for at least a year. Seek me out in a few months and we can have a proper fight under better circumstances, where we don’t have to hold back or worry about bystanders.”

Timijan visibly considered the arguments. He glanced at his gathered men observing the confrontation from a safe distance, probably realizing what Marcus had implied. After a while, he nodded.

“Makes sense. In that case, it’s a deal. I’ll sort things out here and then come seek you out. I’m sure a living legend like General Marcus wouldn’t lie to me,” Timijan said, smiling widely at Marcus. It was the first time his serious expression changed during their entire conversation here.

“I told you, I’m no longer a general,” Marcus complained.

Timijan just patted him on the shoulder, turned around, and slowly walked back to his camp without looking back.

Marcus watched him go for a few seconds before also turning around and walking away as well, although at a much quicker pace than Timijan. The sooner he left this place, the better. With any luck, Timijan would get injured by Crystal Mountain forces or get distracted by another, more exciting opponent, and Marcus would never have to deal with him again.

In any case, although he had avoided a fight, this was still a bit of a chore. News tended to spread quickly among upper echelons of power, and Marcus didn’t think Timijan would keep his arrival secret. In all likelihood, everyone would know he was back within a week or two.

He needed to find a friendly face to talk to before that happened.

* * * *

Although Marcus had failed to get past the mercenaries and their blockade, it wasn’t a serious problem for him. Now that he was no longer riding in a rickety ox-drawn cart, he didn’t actually need to follow the road anymore. He could just fly.

And so he did just that. Once he had put enough distance between him and the mercenary blockade, he took the orb of flight from his belt, clutched it tightly in one of his hands, and catapulted himself straight up into the air. After taking a moment to orient himself, he set off at high speeds towards a large mountain chain to the west. The mountains that separated the Great Golden Plain from the coastal kingdoms were wild and difficult to traverse, but crossing them via flight was relatively fast and easy. There were griffins living here, as well as other flying monsters, but Marcus felt he could deal with them if they were foolish enough to attack him.

It would have been safer and less eye-catching to cross the mountains by just following the road, but maybe it was better this way.

In the end, there was no need to fend off any flying attackers. A pair of flying drakes tried going after him, but they had issues simply catching up to him at the speed he was flying. They eventually had to give up and stop the pursuit. The orb Marcus was using was a potent magic item, allowing him to fly at high speeds for large stretches of time. Most magical creatures didn’t have the stamina to keep up with it.

Theoretically, Marcus could use the orb for an entire day before it ran out of power and had to be recharged. In practice, his body wouldn’t be able to handle it. He had to make frequent landings to rest before he could set off again. Even with the limitations of his own body accounted for, however, crossing the mountain range via this method was much faster than his original plan. He reached the coastline in little over two days, emerging from the mountains straight at his destination – a small coastal kingdom of Elora.

His place of birth… or at least the place he had grown up in. He had no idea where his parents hailed from, after all.

The Great Sea Academy wasn’t located in Elora, of course. The Great Academies each had direct control over a core territory, and would never allow a kingdom – even a vassal kingdom – to exist that close to them. However, Marcus didn’t plan to continue on towards Great Sea Academy itself. Not yet, anyway. Although a handful of people might welcome him there, he suspected he would receive a pretty cold reception overall. Plus, a lot could have changed in six years. People he thought he could count on might have died, or changed their mind about him after he had essentially fled from the lands of the Silver League. No, before he went to Great Sea Academy itself, he had to find out more about what had happened in the region while he was gone. The best place to do that was here.

He landed on the ground rather than fly directly to the orphanage. Now that he was in civilized lands, everything was controlled by one adept group or another, and they were all constantly on a lookout for threats to their power and opportunities to advance their positions. A mage flying around in plain view would be too eye catching. Plus, half of the point of coming here was to reconnect with his old home, and you don’t do that by looking down on everything from high in the sky.

And so, he continued on foot, following the roads and stopping by in various villages and small towns to observe the scenery for a while. His passage was noted, and many curious eyes followed him, but mages weren’t as rare here in the coastal kingdoms as they were on the eastern periphery of the Silver League. No one confronted him.

One would think that such a relaxing and peaceful journey would cause Marcus to enter a similarly serene state of mind, but the longer he travelled like this, the more he became plagued with unease.

He had been feeling an urge to come back to Elora for a while. He had attributed that to his own desires and sentimentality, but now that he was finally here, he knew it wasn’t just his own unresolved past urging him to return here. There was an actual supernatural pull somewhere in the distance – a weak but persistent urging in the depth of his soul, beckoning him towards some place he couldn’t see.

The feeling was subtle, and couldn’t make Marcus do anything he didn’t want. But its very presence was concerning him greatly. He couldn’t detect any kind of foreign magic placed on him. How, then, was this magic reaching out to him? He couldn’t figure it out.

He could, however, tell what direction it wanted him to go. And he thought he knew where the urge was leading him, though for now he chose to ignore it.

Instead, he oriented himself towards the orphanage he used to call home as a child and kept walking.

* * * *

The orphanage was exactly as he remembered it. It was a large but humble building, located on the outskirts of a small village named Willowhill. The white paint on the outer walls was old and sloppily applied, and chunks of the wall were missing at places, revealing the mud and straw from which it was made. Large patches of houseleeks covered the roof of the building, bringing luck to the establishment and warding off evil spirits. A large, well-maintained garden was attached to the building, growing herbs to sell and vegetables to help feed the orphans.

Marcus had hated the garden as a child. Maintaining it was hard work, and it was the job of orphans like him to do so. One of the main reasons he had decided to become a mage was so he would never have to dig potatoes again.

He stood at the entrance for a while, lost in the memories. Many people thought orphanages were places of misery and squalor, but the Willowhill orphanage took care of its charges. Not everything was rosy, but Marcus had fond memories of his childhood here.

“Mister, are you here to see Old Pliny?”

Marcus turned to the side, where a trio of boys was looking at him curiously. Glancing around, he also spotted a pair of girls peeking from behind a large tree, spying on him. He suspected there were plenty of other eyes following his every move. If the orphanage was anything like it was in his time, life was probably pretty boring where there were no lessons or work to be done. A strange new man approaching the orphanage would draw everyone’s attention.

“Yes. Is he inside?” Marcus asked.

“He’s inside, yeah,” one of the boys said. “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Marcus,” Marcus replied. “I used to live here once.”

“You an orphan?” the boy asked. “But you look like a mage!”

“Yes? Elder Pliny picks the most talented of the orphans from every generation and recommends them to the local Great Tree Academy to become mages. Surely he told you that?” Marcus said. “I was one of the children chosen in the past.”

“That’s real!?” another of the boys exclaimed. “I thought he was pulling our leg! We really get to become a mage if we study!?”

“Well he surely isn’t gonna pick you, that’s for sure,” the third guy said, snickering.

The second boy pushed him, which immediately started a shouting and pushing match.

The first boy looked first at his two friends, and then at Marcus, not knowing what to do.

“We, uh, aren’t always like this,” he told Marcus, laughing nervously.

“I’ll just let myself in,” Marcus said, shaking his head. He left the bickering boys behind and stepped into the orphanage. The interior had changed somewhat from his time here, but the layout was still the same and Marcus quickly found himself in front of Elder Pliny’s office.

There was no need to knock on the door, however, because Elder Pliny was already standing on the open doorway, waiting for him. One of the children must have already rushed here to inform him of Marcus’s arrival.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Marcus was kind of nervous about meeting Pliny. The old man had been running the orphanage for a really long time now, and was no distant overseer. He talked to the children all the time, and was personally responsible for teaching them how to read and write, recite history and religious texts, and so on. He was like a father to the children, and the only reason Marcus had gotten as far as he had was because of his teachings and support. And yet… when Marcus had left the Silver League in his self-imposed exile, he hadn’t even bothered to visit the orphanage one last time before setting off. Would the man hold a grudge? If Marcus were in the old man’s shoes, he wasn’t sure he would-

“Marcus, my boy! It’s been so long!” Elder Pliny immediately lunged at him when he came within arm’s reach, enveloping him in a tight hug and kissing him on both cheeks. Marcus tried to squirm out of the hug, but failed utterly. For such an old man, he had one hell of a grip.

A second later, he pushed himself off Marcus, but his wrinkled old hands kept a strong grip on Marcus’s arms, making it impossible for him to fully break away.

“Let me look at you!” Elder Pliny said. He seriously swept over his entire body from top to bottom, studying Marcus like he was still a child in his care. “Have you grown even taller since you left? Ah, I can’t tell – I’ll always remember you as that naughty little boy who kept climbing the Sacred Oak and getting me in trouble with the temple. How quickly you all grow up…”

Marcus burned from embarrassment, unaccustomed to this kind of show of affection.

“Elder Pliny…” he tried.

“Oho, it’s ‘Elder Pliny’ now, not ‘Old Pliny’ like the rest of them?” Elder Pliny said, a knowing smile on his lips. He let go of Marcus’s arms. “I guess you need my help, then.”

“W-Well, you see-” Marcus stammered, his composure fully broken by the man’s antics.

“Come in, then,” Elder Pliny said, stepping back into his office and motioning at Marcus to follow him inside. “My office is always open if you need something. You should know that. I told you that before you’d left for the Great Sea Academy and I never changed my mind.”

Marcus took a deep breath and followed after him. He was a grown man now, and should have the maturity and experience to handle this better, but… well, it was Old Pliny. He could never win against the old man.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but money has been a little tight this month. One of the kids accidentally caused a road accident where a merchant wagon tipped over and spilled their goods. I had to pay quite the fine to smooth things over. As such, I can only offer you a cup of water,” Elder Piny said. He wasn’t even looking at Marcus as he spoke. Instead, he took a jug of water and – ignoring Marcus’s protests that he was not thirsty – poured both of them a cup of clear, refreshing liquid.

He then sat down, downed his cup of water in one gulp, and stared at Marcus for a second.

“So,” Elder Pliny said, being the first one to break the silence. “You’ve come back.”

“I’ve come back,” Marcus confirmed, nodding.

“For good?” Elder Pliny asked.

“For good,” Marcus confirmed. He wasn’t sure he really meant it.

“Good,” Elder Pliny said. “Very good. You know, achieving spirit manifestation at such a young age is already a huge success.”

“I know,” Marcus assured him.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Elder Pliny sighed. “I’m overjoyed to see one of my charges go so far with the aid of my teachings, but I fear you have grown too quickly. People work their whole lives to reach where you are. I hope you will not resent me for saying this, but your failure to become the leader of the Great Sea Academy may very well have been a blessing in disguise. It’s good to get some perspective from time to time.”

Marcus chuckled to himself. Perhaps it was for the best that he had never visited the orphanage before setting off to the unknown all those years ago. If Elder Pliny had shared this kind of wisdom with him back then…

“Believe it or not, I have come to the same conclusion,” Marcus told him sincerely. “What happened was for the best, and I no longer have any ambitions to lead the Great Sea Academy. I didn’t come back for that. I came…”

He paused.

“You don’t know,” Elder Pliny stated.

“I… don’t know,” Marcus admitted. “But it wasn’t for revenge, or to make trouble for people.”

“Why not start a family?” Elder Pliny suggested. “It's quite a popular choice, I hear.”

“No. I am completely dedicated to reaching the pinnacle of magic,” Marcus told him.

“Hmm… fair,” Elder Pliny said. “But in that case, you should consider taking an orphan or two as your student while you’re here. Do an assessment of the children there to see if there is anyone worth teaching.”

Marcus looked at him like he was crazy.

“Me? A teacher?” Marcus protested.

“Why not? Every mage has a duty to pass on their heritage to the new generation,” Elder Pliny told him seriously. “Especially someone like you. You were already a spirit manifestation mage when you went on your… extended pilgrimage.”

“That was just an excuse,” Marcus coughed uncomfortably into his fist. “I went into exile and we both know it.”

“Yes, I know. A stupid move, that,” Elder Pliny told him bluntly. “But anyway. Your elders have put a lot of time and resources into getting you where you are now. The best way to repay that debt to the previous generations is to pass on their knowledge and techniques, enriched by your own insights, to your successors. That way, even when you perish, the legacy will live on.”

Marcus did not contradict him. What he said not only made sense, but was the foundation upon which all adept traditions were built upon. Every spell, magical ability, and foundational technique represented a legacy getting passed on through the ages from teacher to student, again and again and again. To allow one’s own magical legacy to end, when one clearly had the means to pass it onto the new generation, was inexcusable. But…

“I do intend to take on a student eventually, but the Soul Tree Technique I practice is hardly unique. It isn’t like the legacy will go extinct if I die before I have the chance to do so,” Marcus said. “Plus, aren’t I a little young to take apprentices?”

“Not so young anymore, my boy,” Elder Pliny scoffed. “You’re past thirty. Plus, haven’t you already admitted you don’t know what to do with yourself at the moment? Just think about it.”

Marcus looked at the cup of water in front of him and suddenly found himself thirsty after all. He downed it all in one gulp, just like Elder Pliny earlier.

“Alright, alright, I’m not going to push you on this,” Elder Pliny said, pouring another round of water into their cups. “So what did you need my help with anyway?”

“I wanted to ask you what has been happening in the Silver League while I was gone,” Marcus said, regaining some of his confidence. “I heard there was a second Academy War?”

Although Elder Pliny currently managed an orphanage, Marcus knew it wasn’t always like this. Once, Elder Pliny had been a high ranking mage of the Great Sea Academy. Marcus didn’t know what circumstances led to Pliny leaving the academy in favor of running an orphanage in the middle of nowhere, but he knew that the old man still had many connections in high places and regularly received letters from them. He probably knew more about what had been happening in the world than anyone else in Elora.

“Soon after you left, the Great Academies started bickering amongst themselves about how to divide the territories previously governed by factions destroyed in the first Academy War,” Elder Pliny recounted. “Especially since one of the destroyed powers was Chaoswood Academy.”

Marcus grimaced. During the first Academy War, three of the Great Academies turned traitor and sided with Veldoran against the academy alliance – Chaoswood, Poisonwater, and Giant Thunder Hall. Poisonwater betrayed Veldoran, and Giant Thunder Hall relented and switched sides when Marcus killed their leader on the battlefield, but Chaoswood… Chaoswood was razed to the ground, its treasures looted, and its people scattered.

“With Chaoswood destroyed, their territory was up for grabs, and none of the remaining great powers could agree how the division should go,” Elder Pliny continued. “Additionally, Great Sea and Crystal Mountain were of the opinion that Giant Thunder Hall should be punished for their alliance with Veldoran with territorial losses, but Heartfire opposed this, concerned that would just strengthen its main rival. Eventually, a full-on war erupted, with Great Sea Academy leading one side and Heartfire leading the other. It was pretty inconclusive, but overall Great Sea took a huge beating and lost a lot of manpower.”

“I guess that’s why I hear Great Sea lost the war,” Marcus mused out loud.

“People like simple answers,” Elder Pliny told him. “Our Academy ended up worse in the exchange, but very little territory actually changed hands, and I doubt Heartfire really see this as a win. Chaoswood is still a disputed mess, full of upstart minor powers and border skirmishes. It truly lives up to its name now.”

“I hear strange things have been happening,” Marcus said. “Outside of the Silver League, I mean. With the elves and the dwarves and such. Do you know anything about that? Is it just that outside forces have sensed weakness and are trying to move in, or is the Lament Spire becoming active again?”

Non-human civilizations were a big mystery for Marcus. He had heard that elves and dwarves both had their own great powers and many spirit-level adepts. Unfortunately, ever since the orcs had exterminated the halflings and forced mainland elves to flee to their islands, the three civilizations had mostly kept to themselves.

“I also heard mutterings about that, but I am no wiser than you in this regard,” Elder Pliny said. “It is all very strange, but I don’t think it’s another abyss incursion. Everyone would be far more panicked if that was so.”

Marcus frowned.

“My advice to you is to not worry about things like that,” Elder Pliny continued. “This kind of thing is for Gaius and other faction leaders to lose their sleep over. You said you don’t intend to make another bid for leadership so it’s not your problem. You already have enough things to worry about, I think.”

That was true, Marcus had to admit.

“So let me ask you bluntly then… if I step foot in Great Sea Academy itself, will I be immediately in trouble?” Marcus asked. “Is there some kind of arrest warrant or bounty placed on my head?”

“Not that I know of,” Elder Pliny said, shaking his head. “There have been some calls to strip you of your elder status, since you have been away for so long and haven’t been performing any of your duties. However, that hasn’t gone anywhere. With so many powerful mages having been lost in the last war, people are not willing to lose a spirit manifestation powerhouse without a just cause. Gaius himself argued passionately against the idea.”

Marcus’s face twisted into a sour expression. Gaius defending his elder status… the world had such a twisted sense of humor sometimes…

Elder Pliny laughed at this obvious distaste.

“Yes, it was quite the sight to see. I’m sure Gaius felt the same way you did just now, when he was forced to stand on that podium and argue for understanding on your behalf. Oh, how I wish I was there to see it…” Elder Pliny mused. He stared off into space for a second, no doubt imagining things in his head, before shaking his head. “That said, I don’t think you should be in a hurry to get there. That will no doubt mean a lot of meetings with Gaius and the other elders so they can ascertain your loyalty and motivations, and you’ll always be treated with suspicion and kept at arm’s length for anything important. Instead, I have a suggestion, if you’re willing to hear it.”

“I’m listening,” Marcus said. “Just don’t suggest that I take over the orphanage from you.”

“You never know, my boy. Do you think this is how I envisioned my life when I was your age?” Elder Pliny smiled knowingly. “But no. My suggestion is to go to Great Tree Academy and offer to work with them. See what they say.”

Marcus was not surprised at the suggestion. The Great Tree Academy, despite the ‘Great’ in its name, was just a small local academy – a vassal institution of the Great Sea. Elder Pliny sent talented orphans there every few years to become mages. It was obvious he had deep ties to that place.

Marcus had deep ties to that place too, for that matter. He was, after all, one of those children Elder Pliny sent there. Although he later went on to join Great Sea Academy proper, his first steps onto the path of magic were done here in Elora, in Great Tree Academy.

Great Academies didn’t normally recruit random orphans from a small irrelevant kingdom on the periphery of their domain. Not unless they had incredible talent or were lucky enough to draw the attention of some elder. Marcus was good, but not that good. And whatever position Elder Pliny had once had in Great Sea Academy, it wasn’t enough for him to send orphans there directly. Instead, the orphans were expected to prove their worth by joining the local minor academy and excelling there. If they showed enough talent, they would be invited to join Great Tree’s regional overlord instead.

“Would they really be happy to see me?” Marcus asked dubiously. “From what I remember, Great Tree weren’t exactly happy about me leaving to join Great Sea.”

Most vassal academies were quite happy to see one of their members transfer over to whatever regional power they paid fealty to, since it was assumed the student would not forget their roots and would use their newfound position to divert resources and benefits back to their academy of origin. But Great Tree did not like their overlords.

“They don’t blame you for accepting Great Sea’s offer,” Elder Pliny told him. “They resent the Great Sea for poaching one of their greatest talents in recent memory, but they know there is little else you could have done. If you had spurned Great Sea’s offer, they would not have taken it well. You might not know this, but Great Tree is hardly the only minor academy that resent these student transfers. Many students forget their roots the moment they leave for greener pastures, and just as many flounder in an unfamiliar environment and achieve nothing of note. Their academy of origin loses a promising student and most of the time gains absolutely nothing for it. Great Tree is simply more obvious in their distaste.”

“In all honesty, I also never did anything for them, even though I became an elder at a very young age,” Marcus admitted. “Surely they would have some thoughts about that.”

In fact, Marcus deliberately went out of his way to disassociate himself from Great Tree Academy. It was hard enough to get respect as an orphan nobody from a tiny peripheral kingdom. If he showed any kind of loyalty to a borderline rebellious vassal that was viewed with great suspicion by the ruling bloodlines of the Great Sea, his political ambitions would have been dead in the water. Never mind becoming the leader of the whole academy, he wouldn’t have been made an elder to begin with.

For the sake of his career, he had buried his past and betrayed the people who had given him a head start at life.

“They had other students like you in the past. They didn’t help them out, either. They’re used to it,” Elder Pliny said dismissively. “Besides, you have something that they would do almost anything to obtain. I understand you have never given up on the Soul Tree Technique?”

“It’s still my foundational technique,” Marcus confirmed.

Every mage tradition had a foundational technique. It wasn’t a spell, and it didn’t give the practitioner any power. Yet, without it, one wasn’t a mage. The foundational technique told the practitioner how to attune themselves to ambient mana, form their mana reserves, store spells, and advance in ranks. It held no power in itself, but every spell and magical ability the mage utilized relied on it to function. It was the basis for all magic – the foundation on which it all rested, hence the name.

Soul Tree Technique was the foundational technique of Great Tree Academy. Major academies had whole collections of foundational techniques available for students to choose from, but Great Tree only had one, so that was the one Marcus had chosen.

“Most students would have abandoned the Soul Tree Technique immediately upon arriving at the Great Sea Academy and switched to something different,” Elder Pliny remarked. “It would have taken some time, but the legacies available at one of the great academies are much more potent and prestigious than what a little academy like Great Tree can provide. They would also come with a collection of spells guaranteed to work extremely well along with it, whereas the Soul Tree Technique is…”

Elder Pliny hesitated, struggling for words. Marcus understood what he was trying to say. Soul Tree Technique was weird in all kind of ways.

“I have never found any real fault in it,” Marcus said. “It has served me well so far.”

“Clearly,” Elder Pliny chuckled.

In truth, Marcus originally refused to switch over to a different technique because he didn’t want to lose his current foundation and start over. His teachers at Great Sea thought that was a shortsighted decision and criticized him over it. They told him that any loss of time would be justified by having a firmer, more sophisticated foundation technique. But Marcus was stubborn and prideful. His results would eventually vindicate him.

“Are you saying I’m the only spirit manifestation mage practicing the Soul Tree Technique?” Marcus asked.

“Just how many spirit manifestation powerhouses do you think a little academy like Great Tree has? Of course you’re the only one!” Elder Pliny scolded him. “Their current leader is only rank four. It’s the only foundation mage they have, in fact. They used to have two, but one of them was very old and passed away two years ago.”

“I’m pretty sure the Soul Tree Technique is already a Great Technique, though,” Marcus said.

Great Techniques were those that were left behind by mages that attained spirit manifestation rank or higher. Common wisdom said that only Great Academies like Crystal Mountain and Great Sea had access to such treasures, but Marcus had the opportunity to peruse several of these Great Techniques over the years, and he found the Soul Tree Technique to be their equal in just about every regard. That was the main reason why he had never felt any regret about stubbornly persisting with it to the end.

“It is a Great Technique,” Elder Pliny confirmed.

Marcus was taken aback. “You knew?”

Elder Pliny nodded. “There is a reason why Great Tree has ‘Great’ in their name. Only academies founded by spirit manifestation mages have the right to call themselves that.”

“But then why-” Marcus began, but immediately stopped himself. Elder Pliny was giving him a familiar look. “Fine, I get it. I’ll go visit them later and direct my questions at them instead of you.”

Elder Pliny nodded, pleased Marcus understood him so readily. “They can provide you with answers far better than I could. Even if nothing comes of it, it’s good for you to reconnect with them a little, I think. What do you intend to do now?”

“Well, I originally intended to go visit an old friend in the White Dragon Clan, but something came up,” Marcus told him. “I need to visit the Sacred Oak.”

Elder Pliny’s face darkened. “Marcus, my boy, aren’t you a little too old to be climbing trees? Don’t think I won’t whip you again just because you’re stronger than me now. I’m still your senior!”

“No climbing the Sacred Oak this time, I promise,” Marcus said, smiling lightly. “I learned my lesson as a child. I just need to see it. It’s… something of a deep, primal pull in my soul.”

A literal supernatural pull, in fact.

“You children just keep creating trouble for me,” Elder Pliny said, downing another cup of water. He looked at the empty cup mournfully. “Can’t even have a cup of wine thanks to your antics. I don’t know why I still bother with this…”

“I’ll bring you some wine the next time I come and visit,” Marcus assured him as he rose from his seat and moved to leave.

“I hope I don’t have to wait another six years for that, then,” Elder Pliny said. He got up himself to see him off. “And keep in mind what I said about students, will you?”

“I will,” Marcus said, still a little uncomfortable with the idea.

He tried to open the door of the office to step outside, but found something blocking the door. There was a muffled shout, and something fell to the floor on the other side.

“Those little devils,” Elder Pliny growled, pushing past Marcus and slamming the door open. He seemed to find a lot less resistance than Marcus did.

“What the hell did I tell you about spying on me while I’m talking to guests!?” the old man shouted to someone in the corridor. “Get back here!”

Marcus shook his head. So the kids were spying on them… well, it wasn’t like they were talking about anything truly secret, otherwise he would have taken precautions.

It was probably inconsequential.

* * * *

Marcus stood in front of the Sacred Oak, a million thoughts racing in his head.

It was an impressive example of tree-kind. A very large oak with a lush canopy, a healthy bark, and strong roots that poked out of the ground in places. All other trees had been cleared away from its vicinity, creating a grassy clearing centered on the oak.

Yes, the Sacred Oak was certainly majestic, but Marcus had seen bigger trees, especially in the Sea of Leaves. It was really just a large oak tree. The locals all claimed that the Sacred Oak was holy and could bless people, and had great respect for it, but there was no shrine or temple here, and no guardian tasked with warding off visitors. Its only protection was that no road led to it, making it rather hard to find if you didn’t know where to look. Because of this, Marcus had never put much stock in the claim that the Sacred Oak was actually… well, sacred. He had even climbed it multiple times as a child, and no god had smote him for his disrespect! Though he had caught a beating for it…

Marcus hadn’t been here in a long time. The last time he had stood in the presence of the Sacred Oak, he was being admitted into the Great Tree Academy as a student. The academy had insisted that the entrance ceremony had to be performed in front of the Sacred Oak as a witness, so that the new students could receive the tree’s blessings. At the time, Marcus thought this was all just a bunch of superstitious nonsense, especially since he hadn’t seen or felt anything descending on him at any point in the boring two-hour ceremony, but wisely opted to keep his mouth shut and pretended to pray in silence.

Now, years later, Marcus was once again standing in front of the Sacred Oak. And although he still wasn’t sure if the tree was actually sacred… he knew for a fact it had a spirit. It resonated with his soul more deeply than anything he had ever encountered. As his eyes swept across the entire length of tree, taking in every available detail, he could practically see the image of a ghostly white oak superimposed over the physical body of the tree. Its roots stabilized the earth. Its branches reached out towards the heavens…

“How is this possible?” Marcus slowly said out loud. “You’re not just some magical tree. You’re literally practicing the same foundation technique as me. You…”

He suddenly stopped. He realized that the pull in his soul that had led him here had disappeared. It had been there in the background of his mind ever since he had gotten to Elora, getting stronger and more insistent the closer he got to the tree… but now that he had finally arrived, the feeling was gone. It disappeared, because there was no more need for it. The tree understood.

“You are awakened,” Marcus firmly stated, finally understanding.

“Welcome, my child,” the tree spoke to him. Its voice was measured and human-like, devoid of any weird distortions or ominous resonances. Marcus didn’t know where the voice came from, although that in itself was a minor matter. If the tree had really practiced the Soul Tree Technique to the soul manifestation realm, creating ghost voices out of nowhere was beyond trivial for it. “Long have I been looking forward to this meeting. We have much to speak about.”

“How long have you been like this?” Marcus asked.

“Your Great Academies did not exist when my seed was first planted,” the Sacred Oak told him. “And I awoke as a sapling, barely a year after I sprouted out of the ground.”

Marcus winced internally. So when he was climbing it as a child, dirtying it with his muddy shoes and tearing off small branches in order to get a better vantage point, it was completely aware of him and could have killed him at any time with its spirit manifestation strength?

It may not be sacred, but he completely understood why the locals held so much respect for it now. And why no guards of any kinds were stationed near it.

“I never suspected,” Marcus admitted.

“Understandable. Most of the people who call me sacred and offer me prayers do not suspect either,” Sacred Oak said.

“So Elder Pliny, the people from the Great Tree Academy…” Marcus began.

“They know my blessings are real, but they think I am simply a magical tree of some kind. Wondrous, but unaware,” Sacred Oak said. “You are the first person in many decades to have received my call.”

“Why?” Marcus asked, frowning. “What makes me so special?”

Instead of giving him a straight answer, the tree responded with a question of its own.

“Did you ever wonder what the blessings I place on people actually do?”

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