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The city met us with a restless noise. It was not chaos, but a dense lack of structure in the space. Cries, a hum, music, footsteps, all this mixed into unstable flows into which Eldenbridge transforms on fair days.
The carriage stopped not far from the fair; it was impossible to drive further, and the coachman slowly jumped down from the box and, opening the carriage door, grumbled tiredly, "We've arrived, ladies."
I got out of the carriage first: the smells of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, pastries, dampness, mud, and cold mixed into one endless stream that was impossible to structure.
Nova got out after me, then Ren, who looked at me with displeasure, as if I were to blame for all her failures, and last came Catherine. She looked first at the bridge over the Luren River, and then at me.
"The Golden Crossing is unusually crowded today," she addressed me, trying to speak for the first time in several hours.
"Yes, there are a lot of people here today, not at all like last time."
Catherine smiled at me and perhaps wanted to say something in response, but Ren, clearly disappointed that Nova was not reacting to her, came closer and seized the initiative.
"Cat! Look at this commotion! It makes your head spin! And… we wanted to look at books, remember?" her voice was a little louder than usual, as if she were trying to shout over the city noise. "You did say you liked that book from Anix that I gave you, didn't you? About the ice princess and her faithful knight-ess? Maybe we'll find something similar here? Or even a sequel! Imagine how great that would be!" Ren briskly took Catherine by the elbow and was about to lead her on.
Catherine hesitated; such a revelation, coming from Ren's lips, clearly embarrassed her. She took a step back, freeing her elbow from Ren's grip.
"Ren, I'm not sure I want to right now…" she began in a firm voice, but Ren immediately interrupted her.
The expression on Ren's face instantly changed from enthusiastic to hurt, almost childlike. Her lips trembled.
"Even you, Cat?" she whispered so that only Catherine could hear. "Nova is angry, Arta hates me… I just wanted to distract myself a little. With you. I thought we were friends."
It was a ruthless manipulation, hitting its target precisely—Catherine's empathy. I registered how Catherine's shoulders slumped. She had lost. Not because of weakness, but because of her inability to bear another's pain, even if it was feigned.
"Alright, Ren," she said quietly. "But just for a little while."
Ren immediately beamed, her grief vanishing as if by magic. She snorted triumphantly in Nova's direction and dragged Catherine off to the fair. In the look Catherine cast at me over her shoulder, there was not a plea for help, but a silent, bitter acknowledgment of her own defeat.
Nova, who had been conversing with the coachman, broke off her conversation with him and looked coldly at Ren.
As soon as Ren and Catherine disappeared into the stream of people at the noisy fair, Nova, who had been silent until now, approached me and said in a calm voice, "Arta, maybe we should really take a walk? Somewhere away from this noise and crowd where…" Nova looked around. "Where we can just talk."
I nodded. Her reaction was predictable. After the public humiliation and subsequent emotional exhaustion, she was not looking for entertainment, but for silence and, more importantly—for confirmation of her position. The conversation was not just desirable for her; it was necessary.
Nova closed her eyes for a moment, as if shaking off the remnants of the tension brought on by Ren. Then she looked me in the eye, and on her face appeared a light, slightly tired, but sincere smile.
"I suppose," she began, and her voice no longer held the restraint that had sounded from her in the morning, "we really do have a little free time. And, if you don't mind, I would like to show you a place. The Luren embankment. From there, there is a beautiful view of the Old Town, of the quarters that huddle at the foot of the West Hill. And there… it's usually very quiet. We can talk calmly."
I nodded again.
"Of course, I don't mind. Let's go," I replied calmly.
We walked through the narrow streets of the city, gradually moving away from the noise of the fair. Eldenbridge here was older, quieter. Perhaps Nova liked this kind of atmosphere and found order in it. However, observing the micro-cracks in the stonework of the houses, I only thought about how unreliable the order built by humans is.
"This is one of the oldest parts of the city," Nova began, her voice becoming even calmer than it had been at the fair. "They say that Eldenbridge began from here. That building with the turret,"—she pointed to a massive structure of dark stone—"was the former residence of the first burgomaster. Now the city archive is there."
I looked skeptically at the tower, understanding that the history stored there was no more than dust on the road. But I decided to answer Nova, as she was seeking a dialogue.
"Archives only store history, but the true keys to understanding are usually nearby and not hidden behind thick walls." My voice was calm, and I cast a brief glance at her.
Nova looked at me with a surprised expression and, hesitating slightly, replied, "Do you really think so? I always thought that true knowledge is hidden behind seven seals."
"As a rule, that is the case, but true knowledge cannot be hidden," I answered the question that required an answer.
Nova looked at me again; a shade of understanding flickered in her eyes, and then she smiled almost imperceptibly.
We continued on our way, and a few moments later, we reached our destination. The embankment was wide, paved with large stones, and stretched along the lazily flowing Luren. Along the edges of the river, a thin layer of ice could be seen, which glistened under the low winter sun, and on the opposite bank, the pointed roofs of noble estates were visible. It was quiet here, only the splash of water, the singing of winter birds, and the rare footsteps of people who were also tired of the fair's hustle and bustle.
We stopped at a massive cast-iron parapet. Nova leaned against it, looking at the water. Her cheeks had reddened slightly from the morning frost and, perhaps, from an inner uncertainty.
"Thank you for agreeing to come today, Arta," Nova began, not taking her eyes off me. "I know you are probably not very interested in such… frivolous entertainment."
I shifted my gaze from the river to Nova's face, and our eyes met. Her face was calm, almost serene; she was waiting for my answer.
"Why, Nova? Any new experience can be useful. And fairs, and cities… they can tell a lot about those who create and visit them. It is… educational. And it allows one to better understand oneself and others," I replied, letting her know that I was ready to be here.
A barely perceptible vulnerability appeared in Nova's eyes, as if emotions known only to her were raging inside.
"You are always so… thorough in your judgments. Every word is calibrated. But maybe,"—she faltered for a moment, her voice becoming quieter—"maybe it is precisely this… incredible integrity of yours that is attractive. There is no pretense in you. No game. Only… yourself."
She said this in one breath, as if afraid I would disappear somewhere.
An awkward pause arose. Nova blinked several times, but soon continued, "Arta… I… I must apologize. Again. For Ren. For what happened this morning in the carriage. It was… very unseemly. And I am sincerely sorry that you and Catherine became unwilling witnesses to her… impulsiveness. She can be… a very passionate person. Sometimes too much so."
I looked at her for a few seconds before answering, "Impulses without control are just chaos, Nova," I replied in an even tone. "And chaos always destroys. You are not responsible for that."
Nova looked at me with unconcealed gratitude.
"Yes. Yes, you are absolutely right. And I… I am very sorry if her behavior caused you any unpleasant moments. You… you don't have to put up with all this."
"'Unpleasant moments' is too strong a wording, Nova." I deliberately stopped and allowed a shadow of a restrained smile to appear on my lips. "Let's just say it was… a clear example of certain behavioral models that are interesting to analyze. I am not inclined to take such things to heart."
Nova hesitated; she clearly had not expected such an answer from me.
"You, as always… find precise definitions for everything. But thank you for… taking it this way. It is important to me." She took another deep breath, her gaze becoming even more direct, even more open, although a hint of embarrassment could still be read in it. "Arta… remember, in the mail pavilion… you said that you don't mind our friendship if I don't insist on formalities? I… I wanted to say… after everything that has happened since then…" She took a quick pause. "And that story with the attempt on Evelina's life in Sumerenn, and our debates in rhetoric, and this morning… I really appreciate it. And you. Your strength, your mind, your… your honesty. And… I would be very happy if this friendship of ours… if it became something more than just an acquaintance from the Academy. If you… if you allow it to happen, if you see the meaning in it." Nova looked at me without a shadow of a game. In her gaze was only the fire of admiration and hope. Perhaps a shadow of the vulnerability that she rarely showed even to herself.
I looked at her silently; new and new moves that this conversation could give me were being born in my head. She was offering me something more than a simple alliance. She was offering… a structure of trust? Mutual recognition? In any case, perhaps this is what will help me solve the issue with the crack hanging over Illumora.
Nova's sincerity was information, and it required an answer that would meet her expectations but not violate my essence.
I shifted my gaze to the opposite bank, feigning that my gaze had lost its usual focus. This was an important moment. Her proposal was not just information—it was a move that required a counter-move. Then I returned to her eyes.
"Nova, I remember our conversation in the mail pavilion," I said, and my voice was even but not cold. "And I appreciate that after everything that has happened, you are ready to go further."
I paused, letting her know that I had heard not only the words but also what was behind them.
"For me, such a deep connection as you speak of is almost an alliance." I deliberately chose this word—cold, structural, but binding. "It is built not on spontaneous impulses, but on absolute trust, common goals, and mutual respect for each other's principles."
I looked her directly in the eye again.
"If you are looking for just such a… an ally," I said the word slowly, almost questioningly, "then I see no reason to refuse." I allowed myself a shadow of a smile. "But it will not be like those swift and dramatic relationships that Ren so loves to talk about. It will require… discipline and clarity from us both."
Nova's gaze wavered, her cheeks flushed, and she looked away in embarrassment, but quickly brought her gaze back. Her shoulders and posture indicated that she was nervous.
I registered her reaction. She had not just accepted my conditions—she had accepted them with an unexpected, almost enthusiastic readiness. My reference to "discipline of thought," which was supposed to cool her ardor, was perceived as something positive.
This was… interesting. Illogical. Her emotional response was disproportionately strong for the format of "constructive interaction" I had proposed. Perhaps for a person connected to Chaotic Light, any proposed structure is already the highest good. Perhaps this could indeed become the basis for a stable, predictable connection. Perhaps even… a functional friendship.
But was her strong reaction caused only by this? Or was she still waiting for something else from me? The question required further observation.
Nova took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet but firm, full of a new resolve.
"Thank you, Arta. For your honesty." She held a pause, looking me directly in the eye. "A friendship that requires discipline and clarity… I think that is exactly what I need. I will accept your terms."
We stood on the embankment for a few more moments in silence, sealing our strange, asymmetrical alliance. In her gaze, I saw a gratitude that still seemed disproportionate to me. She had gotten what she wanted, but the price and the conditions, it seemed, had been read by her completely differently. Nevertheless, the alliance was formed. I nodded almost imperceptibly, breaking eye contact, and we, without a word, started back toward the fair.
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The time while we waited for Ren and Catherine passed quickly. Over these few hours, Nova methodically tried to build a bridge between our worlds, asking me about Tarvar, about the Chrysolite school, about my family. She was looking for points of contact, common principles on which our new alliance could be built.
Ironically, I learned that her favorite weapon was the spear. The image of the Spear of Order-Light flashed through my mind…
When we finally saw them, the picture was more eloquent than any words. Ren was walking ahead, her face shining with excitement—she had gotten her dose of chaos and attention. Behind her, a few steps away, walked Catherine. She was not just "subdued." She was devastated. Her shoulders were slumped, her movements slow, and her gaze completely empty. This was not just fatigue. It was exhaustion from many hours of struggle with another's entropy.
I looked at her, but not with sympathy, but with an analytical interest. She had endured. She had not broken. This was progress.
The evening gradually enveloped Eldenbridge in a nocturnal and winter coolness; oil lamps began to be lit in the city, and the shop windows were covered with frost, casting the light of the fires on the cobblestone streets. We slowly walked to the place chosen by Nova, a small stone house in which the "Silver Falcon" restaurant was located.
The restaurant was quiet; inside it smelled of meat, mountain herbs, and baked apples. The decoration of the restaurant was made of carved wood, and the tables were neatly covered with snow-white tablecloths.
There were not many tables, and almost all of them were occupied by wealthy people. The snow-white tablecloths, silver cutlery, and crystal glasses indicated that this establishment was popular with the local elite.
The owner of the restaurant personally met us at the entrance and, bowing politely, led us to a round table located in the far corner of the hall, next to two large windows, behind which a small courtyard with a decorative fountain was visible.
Catherine was the first to sink with relief into a soft chair with a carved back. I sat to her left, while Nova and Ren sat on the opposite side of the table.
"I'm so tired," Catherine whispered so that only I could hear.
I looked at her and sighed in understanding. A structure, encountering chaos, inevitably undergoes internal tension; her endurance of it marked sufficient progress.
Catherine wanted to add something, but then she took the menu and, as if hiding in it from the outside world and from me.
Unlike this morning, Ren's behavior had changed significantly, and although she sat next to Nova, there was a significant distance between them. Perhaps she felt guilty, and her gaze returned more and more often to Nova, and her lips formed a guilty smile.
When the waiter approached us—an elderly, impeccably dressed man with gray sideburns and calm, understanding eyes—Nova was the first to lower her menu, placing it gently on the snow-white tablecloth. This gesture instantly attracted everyone's attention, asserting her role as the evening's hostess.
"Four portions of baked red-finned saiga with mountain berry sauce," she said in an even, confident tone, looking directly at the waiter. Her order was absolute, not open for discussion.
Then she paused briefly.
"And for drinks…" she shifted her gaze to Ren. A faint, complex smile appeared on her lips—not of forgiveness, but rather of concession. "Two glasses of 'Moon's Tears.'"
She did not wait for Ren's answer. Then she turned to us. Her gaze, directed at me and Catherine, became noticeably warmer; it held a clear concern.
"And two spiced herbal infusions," she finished, addressing the waiter but speaking for us.
I did not object. Her choice was not random, but strategic. She was not just ordering food—she was assigning roles. The order of wine for Ren was a placating gesture—a way to neutralize her chaos for the duration of the dinner. And her warm gaze and the order of herbal infusion for us was a thoughtful gesture, a demonstration that she remembered our preferences. This entire ritual was not directed at Ren. It was directed at me. She was demonstrating her ability to manage and care—demonstrating precisely the qualities that she believed I valued.
Catherine shifted her gaze to me and said quietly, "Arta, have you tried saiga? It's a very expensive river red fish."
I shook my head in the negative.
Nova saw my gesture and added, looking at me and Catherine, "It's the best fish you can find in Valtheim. I hope you will like it," Nova said, as the waiter, bowing, left.
Catherine nodded. "As far as I know, this is the best place in Eldenbridge to try this delicacy."
Nova smiled softly and replied to Catherine, "That's right. We used to come here often." Nova looked at Ren, who playfully nodded back at her.
Catherine looked at me again. "I hope you will like it, Arta."
I glanced at her skeptically; I had no desire to subject my limitations to a new challenge, but the smells of mortals that I was noticing more and more often reminded me of that dessert because of which my problems probably began.
The food was not served immediately, but without delay. The red fish smelled pleasant, and everyone except me began to cut it with pleasure with their silver utensils. I reluctantly took a fork and knife and carefully began to cut the fish protein, registering another of Catherine's gazes on me, as if she were begging me to comment on the taste of the fish.
She was not looking for an evaluation. She was looking for synchronization—a confirmation that we could share even such a simple, human experience. To refuse would have been tantamount to erecting a new wall between us. Maintaining the stability of the key variable required this small concession. Besides, this was another experiment: how would the system react to a new set of data, introduced for an irrational reason.
I once again suspended the strict protocols governing my taste receptors…
"Yes, it is truly delicious."
Catherine smiled with satisfaction. For her, this meant much more than just an opinion about the food. It was a sign that I was still with her, on her side, in her world.
For some time, we ate in a silence broken only by the quiet clinking of silver utensils against fine porcelain. Ren seemed to have completely calmed down and was now enjoying every glance Nova directed at her. However, her chaotic predisposition precluded sustained tranquility; she began to talk about her search for books at the fair, about some, in her opinion, funny amulet seller who was overly polite to her. All this continued until she caught a warning look from Nova, after which all conversation immediately ended, and Ren once again focused on her plate.
I ate slowly; there was no need to hurry, and Catherine and Nova would periodically cast glances at me, each contemplating something of their own.
After another sip of wine, Ren, probably having forgotten Nova's warning, decided to continue, "Well, our little 'squad,'"—Ren's voice held a relaxation from the alcohol, which had probably affected her too quickly. She raised her glass and continued, "We are almost all here! Only Her Highness Evelina is missing for the full picture, but I think she is with us in spirit! So… to the Academy! And to Rector Terren not being too zealous with his 'new orders'!"
Nova shook her head in disapproval, but manifested as a faint curvature of her lips.
"Ren, you are incorrigible. But, in a way, you are right. The situation at the Academy, and in all of Valtheim, really requires from us… special vigilance." She looked first at me, then at Catherine, her gaze becoming serious. "Evelina is counting on our support very much. On the fact that we can become her reliable support when the time comes. Especially you, Arta, and you, Catherine. Your strength, your mind…" She paused, choosing her words, "they may prove to be decisive."
"We… we will try to do everything in our power, Nova," Catherine said, trying to make her voice sound confident. "The situation is indeed not simple. But, I believe that if we act… together, and trust each other,"—she said the last word, casting a short but very expressive glance at Ren—"then we can cope. At least, I really hope so."
Ren was a little embarrassed by this look and quickly looked away, her feigned cheerfulness gone. She just shrugged and took a large gulp of wine.
I placed my cup of infusion and looked at everyone present at the table.
"Any changes in the established system," I began in an undertone, so that the casual guests of the establishment would not hear anything extra, "especially such as a change in the academy's leadership and the declared reforms, inevitably generate a period of uncertainty. At such times, it is important to maintain clarity of thought and not to panic. An effective strategy consists not in blind resistance, but in a precise analysis of the situation and an understanding of the true goals of those who initiate these changes."
Nova looked at me anxiously.
"So, you think we should try to understand Terren, and not just oppose him?" Nova clarified, frowning slightly. Surprise and a slight misunderstanding were audible in her voice.
"Understanding a potential opponent is the first step to victory over him, Nova. Or to finding an unexpected ally where you do not expect one,"—I allowed myself a faint smile to defuse this conversation, after which I continued, "Sometimes goals can coincide, even if the methods are different. It is important to see not only the external manifestations but also the hidden currents. And to act not impulsively, but thoughtfully."
Nova looked at me attentively, then she shifted her gaze to her almost empty plate.
"You… you say very wise things, Arta. Sometimes it seems to me that you know much more than you show." Notes of genuine admiration sounded in her voice. "We really need to learn this… strategic depth from you. And to be less swayed by emotions." She cast a short but meaningful glance at Ren, as if hinting that she should pay attention to this, but she just shifted her gaze to the tablecloth, pretending to be examining the patterns on it.
Dinner was gradually coming to an end, and outside the window, it was getting darker and darker. The waiter brought the bill, and Nova paid it herself, doing so with that casual authority that did not allow for objections. I noted this gesture. It was not just a manifestation of generosity. It was an act of establishing control, a finishing touch to her behavior today.
Smiling at the waiter, Nova stood up from her chair and addressed us, "Well, ladies," her voice sounded calm and measured, "I think this was a good evening. And a useful one. I hope we can repeat this sometime. And now, I suppose, it is time for us to return to our academy. The curfew has not been canceled yet."
Ren stood up abruptly from her chair and, as if improvising on the spot, she said, "Yes, Nova, it was wonderful! Just… perfect! We will definitely repeat this!" she said, as if hinting not only about the evening but also about the events in the carriage.
Nova paid no attention to this and addressed me and Catherine personally, "Thank you for your company. I was… pleased to spend this evening with you."
I nodded in acknowledgement and stood up from the table. Catherine followed my example, and we went out together to the street, to the square where the carriage was already waiting for us.
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The return was accompanied by a silence saturated with the remnants of others' words. Inside the carriage, there was a semi-darkness: the magical lantern above the coachman's seat gave enough light to see the silhouettes, but not the expressions on the faces, turning us into silent shadows.
Ren was asleep, her head resting on Nova's shoulder. It was a posture of complete, childlike dependence. Nova did not pull away, but she did not respond to the gesture either. Her hands were folded on her knees, her back straight. She allowed this intrusion into her space, but she did not participate in it. This was not peace, but a temporary truce, dictated by exhaustion.
She looked out the window, and I registered how her gaze occasionally slid in our direction—not at Catherine, but at me. An appraising, thoughtful gaze. She was analyzing her new alliance.
Catherine sat closer to me than she had in the morning. Her body was slightly inclined in my direction, as if she were instinctively seeking support in my stillness. This was not a request, but an unconscious movement toward the only source of order in this chaos. Her hand lay on the seat between us, but she did not try to touch mine.
The first winter forest flashed by the window. Nova carefully shifted Ren's head from her shoulder. The academy was close. She was managing the situation even in Ren's sleep.
I looked at Catherine. Her face in the semi-darkness seemed almost transparent with fatigue. This was not just fatigue. It was a systemic exhaustion. I understood that her state should not be ignored, as she had been fighting with internal and external chaos all day.
"You look tired," I said quietly.
Catherine flinched at the surprise of my address; her gaze slid to me but did not linger. She was looking for confirmation that she had heard everything correctly, but I gave no additional reactions.
"Yes, a little," she replied. Her voice was slightly muffled but not broken. "The day was… quite eventful. Too many things happened, especially at the fair…"
I nodded.
"I agree, the day was very eventful." I paused. "And everything was complicated by too much emotional strain. Unfortunately, interpersonal relationships, especially when there is a lot of unspoken things in them, are tiring."
Catherine froze; she was thinking hard about something and gave an answer only a few moments later, "Yes… you are right, Arta," she whispered, not taking her eyes off me.
"You need a good rest," I replied, looking her in the eye.
"Uh-huh, I hope I'll have such an opportunity soon." Catherine smiled softly and looked out the window.
A few moments later, the carriage stopped. The day was over.
I got out of the carriage first. Catherine got out after me, then Nova with a sleepy, uncomprehending Ren.
Chaos had temporarily retreated, lulled by wine and exhaustion. Order, on the contrary, had strengthened its positions. My observation had borne fruit. A new alliance with Nova had been formed. Catherine had received a new, powerful tool for analysis and self-control. Ren was isolated and destabilized. The configuration had changed in my favor. A direct correction was still inadvisable, which meant my observation would continue.