“Do you know of this Boon, brother?” Naamon asked Elian, noticing his expression.

  “I’ve come across the Peace-mongering Crucible in a book I’ve read some years back. I don’t know much about it and its Boon.” Turning to the Elder Giver, Elian bowed and said, “Please educate me.”

  “Polite and hungry for knowledge,” said Shelomo, half-laughing and half-coughing. Elian was worried the Elder would suddenly croak. “That is how the younger generation should be, rather than taking and taking without regard for others. I will tell you about the Peace-mongering Crucible, upstanding lad. It is an ornate ivory pot, gilded in gold and encrusted with gems the color of the rainbow. Large enough to hold a man, it instead contains the essence of a deity of pacifism.

  “Given the Peace-mongering Crucible’s stance, it is easy to align with the Tri-Horned Magnam. Though not an advocate of nonviolence, the Magnam pushes for self-sacrifice and helping others—ideals the Peace-mongering Crucible wants to propagate with its traces on this mortal plane. My uncle had no difficulties Melding their Boons.”

  “The Crucible’s Boon… can you tell me what it is?” Elian asked. “The book I’ve read didn’t have any information.” It did, but he didn’t continue reading because it wasn’t helpful to his planned Abyssal Eye’s Curse build.

  “What I know may not be accurate. Dunes of time bury my memories. I was but a small lad back then, several years younger than you, following my Giver uncle and aiding him in any way I could. I’ve seen him use it a few times. The Peace-mongering Crucible’s Boon creates a force against threats. No, not a blow that pushes and hurts others. It is a force that prevents an enemy from striking you. Not a barrier in the normal sense. Picture two lodestones, their similar faces repelling each other.”

  “I think I understand,” Elian said. The Elder Giver was talking about the repulsion of similar magnetic poles. It wasn’t a reflected damage of sorts. This Boon’s ‘pushback’ was purely defensive. Possibly useful.

  “The Impel Order of the Peace-mongering Crucible requires the bestowed not to do harm,” continued the Elder Giver. “This is not a Curse, for it is the choice of the bestowed to walk the pacifist way. And if he does, the deity promises protection—that is its blessing. The Lesser Boon is… not powerful. Underwhelming, I’d even say. In battle, the repelling force takes time to… what do you younglings say? Ramp up?”

  Elian chuckled. “Yes, ramp up. It takes time to strengthen its opposing force. Other than this effect, I’m assuming the Boon also boosts defenses?”

  “That, it does. The specifics, I cannot recall. And that’s all the bestowed can rely on in a fight, for the repelling force would only count the longer the battle drags on. You can understand why this isn’t an appealing Boon. Unable to fight back. Offering your body as a shield to protect others—many young men recoil at the thought. Its Greater Boon has more impact. Enemies around you move as if they are in a tar pit, their arms and legs sluggish. Their Attributes are reduced, their senses impeded.”

  “Sounds useful in a large battle,” Elian said. “But how does it help against the Tribulation? Your uncle Melded his Boons to support his Bearer, right? Or was it for personal—?”

  “It is for his Bearer’s sake,” Shelomo said. “You see, lad, the Melded Greater Boon of the Restful Canopy blooms, expelling threats to the bestowed. The Tribulation of the Bearer, a force that could assuredly kill my uncle, is severely weakened as it enters the protected area. Think of the ocean pushing up those trying to swim to its depths. Powerful the Melded Boon may be, my uncle did not use it save once.”

  Elian raised a brow. “Just once?”

  “Only one time, and no more. And it was against a Tribulation.” Shelomo leaned forward as if to share a secret, the weight of his necklaces threatening to break his extended stick of a neck. “My uncle deeply regretted pursuing the Melded Greater Boon of the Restful Canopy. It caused a great rift with his Bearer, one that wasn’t repaired until they both ran out of the sands of times. Can you deduce what happened?”

  “This Melded Greater Boon…” Elian said, his offer to tank Borlen’s Tribulation coming back to him. “… it required your uncle to stand with his Bearer. If your uncle wasn’t going to get hit by the Tribulation, the Restful Canopy wouldn’t take effect. I’m assuming it had something to do with that?”

  Elder Shelomo nodded. His necklaces tinkled as he did so. “The Giver supports the Bearer but does not and should not physically share the burden of the Tribulation. My uncle thought his Bearer would not be able to handle the next Tribulation, and thus rushed to save him.”

  “I…” Elian had many things he wanted to say, but it was probably better to shackle his opinion as no one asked him for it.

  “Was my uncle correct in his decision?” Shelomo softly wondered. “Perhaps he was right that his Bearer would’ve died without the Restful Canopy. Perhaps not. We do not have the Eye of Foresight to say what could’ve happened. But what did happen was his Bearer took deep offense. Expected. It might not be rational to an outsider like you, lad, but this is the way of our people.”

  I’ve heard that dozens of times, Elian thought, nodding.

  When he first came to Fellenyr, he had a hard time accepting many of the beliefs of the various peoples and races. Even now, things still surprised him. Or didn’t sit right with him. This whole culture of Tribulation was unlike anything he had seen. However, if he had traveled more back on Earth and got to know other cultures, he probably would’ve found practices that’d seem bizarre to him.

  Elder Shelomo talking about his uncle also made Elian realize how long Tellerins were connected with the Magistrate. According to Borlen, he converted his tribe. He also had something to do with gathering followers for Faridar before switching his support to Tharguras. But other Tellerin tribes had walked the Penitent Path long before that, a century at the least. Likely more, as they had established the Bearer-Giver culture before the time of Shelomo’s uncle.

  Continuing the interview, Elian found out that the village where the Peace-mongering Crucible resided wasn’t too far away. Past the mountains where Elian met Borlen’s group were vast plains stretching to the neighboring region of Ohmenstrat ruled by a half-elf, half-human clan.

  “If riding horse-drawn wagons,” Shelomo said, “you’ll reach the Peace-mongering Crucible’s shrine in three weeks. Less if you’re using six-legged horses. Have plenty of endurance potions to keep your packhorses going if you’re in a hurry.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “That is good to hear,” replied Elian, trying to recall if there were any animals by Gideon’s carriage. Was it magically driven? Could he convince the floramage to go to Ohmenstrat? “If you know, Elder Giver, what does the Peace-mongering Crucible require in return for its Boon?”

  “Tales told by my uncle thread through my ears once more.” Shelomo had a nostalgic smile as he stared out the flapping entrance of the tent. “Beneath the Shrine of the Peace-mongering Crucible is an ancient city of a lost people buried by time. Infesting these expansive underground ruins are monsters; they could even be called horrors. The Crucible will ask for an item from this city. Brave the challenges and retrieve it without harming a single creature there, and return for the Boon.”

  The red-robed Tellerins asked Elian to stay for their midday meal. He paid back their generosity with interesting tales about distant lands. Funny thing was his stories were from the future, and they didn’t know. They became more enthralled with him when they found out he could speak Tellerin. He had never been there, only learning their language from Tellerin refugees fleeing the Giants—he didn’t tell them about that part.

  Someday, he’d travel to the Seas of Gold, the other name for Tellerin, referring to its deserts of sand under the hot sun. Not only did he plan to get the Boon of the Tri-horned Magnam, but he also promised so many Tellerins he’d visit their homes.

  “Many thanks for bringing me here.” Elian bowed deep to Naamon. “You’ll never know just how much help you’ve given me.” And the rest of humanity, he continued in his head.

  From the red tents, Elian went to Immaterial Hill. He had wanted to spend his afternoon at the library but changed his mind. His stay here wasn’t going to be for long, so he wanted to savor the lectures at magic school some more. Take the opportunity to relax now. Wouldn’t get much of it in the future.

  But he found it hard to concentrate in class. Instead of taking notes, he was scribbling plans.

  Should he go to Sabyn Mountains and look for something to strengthen Viney? Was this something actually there? He hadn’t even asked Gideon about this.

  Or should he go to the Shrine of the Peace-mongering Crucible? Heading to Ohmenstrat was away from Sarnival Port; the earlier he went there, the better. He didn’t know how long it’d take to accomplish the Crucible’s test and obtain its Boon. Also possible that Elder Shelomo remembered some details wrong.

  “Elian, can you kindly show us your Armor-enhancing seal?” Varmisal said, breaking through Elian’s thoughts.

  Elian stood up. “Right away, Master Varmisal.”

  He conjured three level ten shield constructs. They floated above him facing upward, poised to meet a Tribulation, one on top of the other. On the bottommost shield, he made a seal that increased the Armor of the others by a hundred points—this took more effort to construct but was worth it for the bonus. Much better than making another shield.

  “Brilliant work.” Varmisal giggled as he clapped, the flesh of his hand not making any sound as it hit the surface of his Aether construct hand. He didn’t know Elian held back much of his proficiency gained from studying restricted Aether Magic books in the library. “Please lift your work,” said Varmisal, “so everyone can see the seal below.”

  Elian had been through many desperate battles and witnessed many deaths, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed being used as an example in class. Standing there with everyone watching, he berated himself for not concealing his skills more.

  Varmisal shot a beam out of his finger to highlight parts of Elian’s construct. “My dear students, always keep in mind to secure your seals in the safest location. You don’t want it destroyed prematurely. Note how Elian has constructed the circuitry to power his seal. It is powered by the Aether from his work instead of absorbing Aether from the surroundings, which is several levels more complicated.

  “Making Manifested Armors to be your helpers, you’d want them to be self-sufficient. If you used Elian’s circuitry on them, they’ll digest themselves. But if you’re preparing for a Tribulation, everything would need to be as efficient as possible. Redundant seals and circuitry could’ve been another layer of shield, and so on.”

  Jadewell’s hand shot up. She had shed her cocoon after their class left the indoor garden and started to actively participate in class. “Master, what if I make concentric protection seals to multiply defenses? How do I efficiently power them?”

  Elian sat down as the attention of the class left him. Varmisal expertly answered Jadewell’s question, and also others that followed. Now, this is what magic school should be.

  Unfortunately, as enjoyable as this was, it didn’t help Elian in the slightest. With a set destination in mind, all his remaining time should be spent at the library.

  He had progressed far in his Aether Magic using Thalman’s recommended books—the priest left more notes with Marielle for him. Such a great guy. Elian had thought he’d need more time to master the basics of Aether Magic, but he could say he already did. Only the advanced classes of Immaterial school would be of help to him, and he wasn’t going to stay and pay for those.

  With a heavy heart, he decided this was his last day in school.

  He didn’t immediately leave when the class ended because Thorren asked for pointers in seal construction. While Elian explained things, he thought of saying goodbye. They had fought together and formed a bond. Probably best to just disappear. Elian wasn’t good with goodbyes.

  “I’m heading to the Stage of Devotion,” Thorren said. “Will you come with me? I’ll buy you meat skewers as thanks for teaching me about seals.”

  “I have somewhere else to go to,” Elian said. “May the gods bless your Tribulation.”

  After Thorren left, Jadewell popped up beside Elian. “Where is this somewhere you speak of? Is it the temple library?”

  “Have you been tailing me again?” Elian asked. He didn’t recall sensing a presence watching him. Jadewell may have known how he noticed her the previous time and adjusted her strategy. “You could’ve just asked me where I was going.”

  She shook her head to fling away her curtains of black hair. “If I asked, you would’ve thought I was jealous of the speed of your progress. I mean, I am. That was why I followed you to see if you’re getting instruction elsewhere. But I didn’t want you to think badly of me.” She peered at him with a mischievous grin.

  “Not any more badly than the first time,” Elian said.

  “Don’t be like that. We’re even after you gave me sleepless nights, beset by horrors of a future that may be true. How are your preparations going, Elian the time traveler?”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  “I wish. I really wish that all your talk of the future were lies. But your skills in Aether Magic can be considered as proof of your tale. I’m not a prodigy, but I can say my skills are above average. I’ve also been taught by my family from the moment I could recognize symbols. Yet, I’m far behind your rate of progress.”

  “We’re not too far—”

  Jadewell held up a finger. “I know what you show in class is far from the extent of your abilities. You’ve told me you were an Energy mage in your past life—it would make sense for you to learn Aether Magic quickly through studying advanced books at the temple library. Isn’t that what you’re doing there?”