Paragon of Destruction

The next day saw Arran depart from the House of Swords well before dawn, some weariness in his steps as he made his way along the dark road. It wasn’t the early hour that bothered him — with his Shadowsight, he could easily find his way even during the darkest night.

Rather, what made him feel weary was the prospect of spending another two days studying magic.

The previous four days hadn’t been nearly as bad as he feared. If anything, they had been more productive than he initially expected. Reasonably speaking, he had absolutely no reason to complain, and plenty of reason to be excited.

Yet despite his encouraging results, he found that studying magic left him more tired than practicing swordsmanship ever had.

Physical exercise drained his body, but afterward, he’d always feel satisfied with the results. Magic, however, drained his mind. And if there was any satisfaction to be had from his progress, he was too exhausted to enjoy it.

And that was after just half a week of studying, with a full year still ahead of him.

Still, there was nothing for it but to endure. Perhaps things would get better once he got used to the unfamiliar activity.

And even if his aptitude for studying failed to improve, he comforted himself with the thought that a year was hardly a long time. He had spent nearly as long comprehending a single insight, after all.

The thought wasn’t quite enough to reassure him, but it would have to do.

He had avoided seriously devoting himself to magic studies for a long time, but there was no way around it now — even ignoring Brightblade’s commands, he understood that he would ultimately benefit from taking the task seriously. And if he didn’t, he had little doubt that he would eventually pay a hefty price for it.

He didn’t allow himself to dwell on these thoughts, however. Doing so would change nothing, other than causing him worries he didn’t need.

Instead, as he traveled across the dark road leading to the capital, he used Shadow Essence to practice the Forms.

Using Shadow Essence produced no visible results, but it was a good exercise, both to learn the Forms and to improve his control over Essence. Neither of these things came as easily as he would have liked, and a few hours of additional practice each day would go a long way in helping him progress more quickly.

Moreover, training like this meant the time he spent on travel wasn’t wasted entirely — something he had quickly realized would be an issue in the year to come.

With all the strongholds being miles apart, merely getting from one to another took entirely too long. And if he had to do so every day, he would need a means of using that time.

He arrived at the capital before first light, finding the wide streets still quiet. While there were already a decent number of mages about even at this early hour, the capital was large enough that a few hundred people on the streets hardly made a difference.

Finding the road to the House of Seals proved easy. As the largest House in the Ninth Valley, the way toward it was clearly marked — a broad paved road that was lined with trees, more than a few people already traveling along it.

Arran made his way down the road without hurry, continuing to practice the Forms as he walked. Using Shadow Essence, his efforts drew no attention, and he got nearly an hour of training in before he finally reached his destination.

It was half an hour after dawn when he reached the House of Seals, and with a single glance, he realized that the stronghold was vast — much larger than the other Houses he had visited.

Its thick, high walls stretched to either side of the gates as far as the eye could see, but despite the walls’ height, at least a dozen tall towers could be seen stretching up from the city behind them. Each of these was taller than any of the buildings in the capital, and Arran had little doubt that there would be more out of sight.

The opened gate, meanwhile, itself was at least as impressive as the walls around it. Nearly two dozen feet high and twice as wide, it looked like it was made to accommodate entire armies marching through.

Although there presently were no armies around, the entrance was well-guarded, with half a dozen mages checking the passing travelers, and several dozen more keeping a close watch on the road ahead. Anyone trying to enter uninvited would not have an easy time of it, that much was obvious.

But Arran did not have to worry about that, and he approached one of the guards.

"First time here?" the man asked as he inspected Arran’s badge. When Arran answered in confirmation, he gave a thorough explanation of where to find the initiates’ training facilities.

Although the directions seemed needlessly detailed, Arran discovered that they were no mere luxury when he passed through the gate some moments later.

If the House of Flames was vast, then the House of Seals was gargantuan. The road ahead of the gate led to a large city that featured dozens of large towers, and on either side of it, training grounds stretched far into the distance, large stretches of land filled with parks and gardens in between them.

At a glance, it looked as if someone had combined the House of Swords, the House of Flames, and the House of Shadows all in a single stronghold large enough to hold half the Valley’s mages.

Seeing the sheer size of the stronghold, Arran immediately hastened his step. He’d believed he was well in time for training, but that belief now faded. Even with the guard’s directions, he suspected he would have to hurry not to be late — his destination was on the southwestern end of the stronghold, almost directly opposite the main gate.

This meant the distance was not a short one, but at least it gave him plenty of opportunity to get a first impression of the House of Seals, and he did so eagerly as he hurried along the road.

It was immediately that the House of Seals was very different from the other Houses he had seen.

The House of Swords had plenty of training fields but few of the large stone halls that spellcasters used, while the situation in the House of Flames was the exact opposite. Yet the House of Seals had both in abundance, with plenty of mages already using them even this early in the morning.

From this, Arran surmised that the House of Seals wasn’t as single-minded in its pursuits as the other Houses, which treated disciplines other than their own with something close to disdain.

While a quick look wasn’t nearly enough to draw any firm conclusions, he thought the explanation made sense. Just walking through the vast stronghold, it seemed qualitatively different from the other Houses — like a separate Valley rather than a mere faction.

Yet he didn’t have a chance to give it any more thought, because as the sun kept rising, his time was starting to run out.

Fortunately, the guards’ directions proved accurate, and it wasn’t long before Arran arrived at his destination — a series of large stone buildings that more resembled palaces than training halls, with large groups of initiates and novices moving between them.

Finding the right building was a simple matter of asking one of the novices, and Arran breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped inside — well on time, with a good ten minutes to spare.

Within the building, he found a large hall filled with initiates. There were well over a hundred, standing silently as they waited for the day’s lessons to begin. After a moment’s hesitation, Arran joined the group.

He ignored the initiates as he waited, instead studying his surroundings. The hall was spacious even with the large group of people it held, easily a hundred paces across. And along its sides were several doors, evenly spaced and currently closed.

At the far end of the hall stood a small group of mages. Their leader was easy to recognize — a gray-haired man with angular features and a well-groomed beard who looked upon the initiates with a lofty confidence that suggested he was at least a Master.

Surrounding the man were a dozen other mages. Three of these looked to be in their thirties, and from their calm but self-assured demeanor, Arran guessed them to be adepts. The rest were younger, around Arran’s own age. Novices, most likely.

Other initiates entered the hall as he waited, more than a few of their faces flushed with exertion. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had rushed to arrive in time.

The crowd doubled in the last few minutes, but the new arrivals soon slowed to a trickle, coming to a complete halt only a moment later.

With the last of the initiates inside, the gray-haired Master cast a satisfied look upon the group.

"Welcome, all of you," he said in a powerful but calm voice. "I see there are several new faces among us today. Newcomers, please remain here. The rest of you, head to your classrooms."

At once, the initiates flooded from the hall and through the doors at its sides, the adepts and all but one of the novices following behind them. When the hall had emptied, the only people remaining were the Master, a single novice, and a small group of initiates.

The Master gave the group a friendly smile, likely meant to ease their nerves. "Today, you will set your first steps on a wondrous journey," he said in a practiced voice. "The path of seals is a difficult one, but its rewards are great. Work hard, and your efforts will be repaid a hundredfold."

He scraped his throat, then continued in a more casual tone, "Ozluk here will instruct you today. Any questions you have, he’ll be glad to answer. Good luck, to all of you."

Evidently satisfied with the introduction, the man turned around and walked off, disappearing through one of the doors at the end of the hall.

"Well then." The novice named Ozluk cast a look at the small group of initiates in front of him, his expression betraying some nervousness. "Follow me, please."

He guided the initiates through one of the doors at the side of the hall. Behind it, Arran found a large semicircular room, with raised rows of wooden seats in the back and a lectern on a small stone stage at the front. The room held a faint whiff of mustiness.

Arran and the other initiates sat down on the wooden seats, their small group barely enough to fill a fifth of the empty spaces. As they sat down, Ozluk stood behind the lectern, eying the group nervously.

"All right," he said. "First, I’ll give you a short introduction about seals, formations, and related magics. Then, after our midday break, we can have some fun practicing." He let out a shrill laugh, though it came to an abrupt end when he noticed none of the initiates joined in.

Arran suppressed a weary sigh. He had no intention of being there longer than a few hours, but even spending that long listening to the hapless novice would be unpleasant.

"Everyone ready?" the novice asked. No answer came, and he continued, "Now, about seals..."

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