"And what do you require of me in this?" Seraph inquired, his gaze anchoring on the Grandmaster.
"I'm charging you with a clandestine mandate: to hunt and excise the Piperclowns," Eldra declared with a knowing smile. "You're to root out every demon lurking in the capital's shadows. Arkpolis is a sprawling metropole, and finding these infiltrators will be a harrowing task, but you will have the backing of other magis and every scrap of intelligence you require. I've already coordinated with certain nobles within the Arkflame court to ease your way. I've few candidates for a task of this gravity, but you are the one I trust above all others."
"A tracking and reconnaissance mandate..." Seraph whispered, his mind already weaving through the tactical complexities.
"Will you accept this charge?" Eldra inquired, noting his silence.
"Marina has performed a thorough audit of my condition... she maintains that I sustained lethal trauma. Though the restorative rites are finished, she claims internal bruising persists. She's counselled me to remain in convalescence for several days before resuming any duty—"
[Slam!]
The door was flung wide with a violent resonance. Seraph bolted upright in shock as Evelyn burst into the room.
"You're still not mended?!" she bellowed, her voice thundering through the vaulted chamber.
She scrambled forward, dropping to her knees beside his chair. In a frantic blur, her hands roamed across Seraph's frame as if searching for the jagged edges of a lingering wound.
"Eavesdropping on a classified briefing is strictly forbidden!" Eldra rebuked her granddaughter with biting severity.
"I'll soon be a magis in my own right!" Evelyn retorted, her defiance unyielding even as her touch lingered on Seraph.
"You're a child and utterly unready," Eldra cut her short.
"Next season, I will endure the trials!" Evelyn rose, her voice peaking with conviction.
"You're far too young. To confront the demonic forces beyond these walls is to court a senseless end," Eldra countered, her disapproval absolute.
"I'm a child no longer! Regardless of your decree, next year I seize my rank!"
The girl finished her outburst and bolted back into her chambers, as if she would brook no denial.
[Slam!]
The resonance of the door faded, leaving a heavy, ringing silence to reclaim the sanctum.
"That girl has the temperament of a wild mare—have you the mettle to tame her?" Eldra inquired, her voice trailing off into a weary sigh.
"There is no such bond between us—" Seraph tried once more to clarify the previous night.
He was cut short again.
"If you have the audacity to act, you must have the fortitude to answer for it!" Eldra declared, her tone hardening with matriarchal severity.
"But I—"
"Regardless! I charge you with this mandate. It is clandestine and lacks immediate urgency, so I will grant you three days of convalescence; thereafter, you are to begin without delay. Take a Galehawk with you. Should you detect a demon in Arkpolis, you are not to engage alone. Dispatch an urgent missive to the Sanctus first. I will then deploy a strike team to bolster you," Eldra explained, laying out the tactical parameters.
With a fluid motion, she proffered the mission scroll. Seraph's gaze locked onto it. He remained mute, a sense of defeat washing over him as he realised the futility of correcting her misconceptions about Evelyn.
"Understood. In three days, I will begin the mandate," Seraph finally conceded, accepting the scroll and securing it. "In that case, I will take my leave—"
[Slam!]
Evelyn burst through her door with violent force.
"Seraph! I'm doing your mending myself!" she cried, scurrying toward him.
Clutched in her hand was a glass vial containing a potion of a visceral, sanguine hue, casting an ominous crimson radiance through the chamber.
"You foolish child! That's a Bloodroot!" Eldra bellowed in genuine alarm. "How did you pilfer that from my private coffers?! Do you intend to kill the boy?!"
"Ah! But didn't I read in a treatise that Bloodroot can mend even the most lethal trauma with staggering speed?" Evelyn asked, her innocence masking a terrifying ignorance.
"Technically, yes!" Eldra countered, the strain of a burgeoning headache evident in her posture. "However, most high-tier potions carry catastrophic side effects. They are never to be administered without grave deliberation! While Bloodroot can indeed staunch bleeding and knit flesh at a phenomenal rate, it subjects the imbiber to a torment akin to being eaten alive by a million maggots! Many who seek its restoration perish from the sheer agony of the process before they ever find salvation! Do you truly believe Seraph's plight justifies such a wretched gamble?"
Upon beholding the Bloodroot, Seraph felt a primal shiver course down his spine. As a former Assistant Curator, he was acutely aware of the lethality within such high-rank concoctions. He found himself genuinely uncertain whether Evelyn intended to deliver him to health—or to the grave.
✧ . ✶ . ⛤ . ✶ . ✧
Regardless of how often Seraph sought to take his leave, the pair conspired to entangle him in an unending web of discourse. Even as the Grandmaster remained buried beneath a mountain of scrolls, she spared no effort in keeping him tethered.
Evelyn, for her part, resolutely refused to let him depart, goading him into a mageia duel that stretched across the better part of the day. Thus, it marked the first occasion the two truly tested their mettle against one another in a formal contest of mageia.
Eldra's suite was furnished with a dedicated training hall and a complement of knight golems, allowing them to trade violent volleys of force. Even the Grandmaster eventually set aside her quill to observe them as they clashed in the heat of mageia combat.
Seraph's initial encounter with Evelyn's flamus mageia struck him with a profound shock. The man who had dismantled the ten members of the Kambion Group was a far cry from the magis he had become!
The young man was acutely aware of how his strength had surged in a mere matter of weeks, forged through the systematic eradication of demonic packs. In the past, contending with even a solitary undead posed a dire challenge; yet now, the young magis moved with the cold certainty that he could subdue a dozen goblins without overtaxing his reserves.
Though Seraph claimed a decisive victory in the duel, he had consciously refrained from unleashing his full lethality upon the girl. Even so, her prowess did not pale in comparison to that of established Magisters. He had bested her through the razor-sharp precision of his casting and a fluid application of varied spells—a finesse honed in the crucible of authentic combat.
However, if measured solely by raw mana and mageia power, Evelyn undoubtedly eclipsed him.
Given the girl's formidable strength, Seraph found himself increasingly bewildered by Eldra's overprotective stance. In his estimation, she already surpassed many of the sworn magis within the Sanctus.
Following their spar and the subsequent tutelage from Eldra, the hours bled into the evening without their notice. The Grandmaster and her granddaughter effectively conscripted the young man to join them for supper.
The late-night repast within the Grandmaster's sanctum was punctuated by flickers of levity. Yet, the moment the mageia contest concluded, Evelyn's clumsy nature reclaimed its throne. She nearly sent a silver fork lancing into Seraph's brow, a catastrophe averted only by his lightning-fast reflex as he snatched the utensil inches from his skin.