CLEO – Ankratur

  “This is the First Step,” Rosalia said as they made their way along a dusty street crowded with market stalls sheltered by cloth awnings. “Where most people live and work. Above us on the Second Step, are mostly wealthy merchants and traders, along with outposts of the Military Orders. Above them, on the Third Step, are the few nobles who were unlucky enough to be posted out here on the frontier, and the Empire’s forces, which include the Imperial Guard and a few squads of an undermanned Legion. The rest of the Legion camp outside the pyramid.”

  She said “Empire’s” as if the word conveyed all Cleo needed to know. The problem was she had no idea about the Empire at all. Kindergarten lessons would be handy. Or maybe a bookshop?

  “Unlucky nobles?” Kalak said. “They pissed off someone more powerful than them, or were desperate enough to try their luck out here. This is where most of the card frags come from—killing undead and goblins and whatever else the dungeons throw up.”

  Cleo nodded, following the conversation and also trying to absorb what information the various people and stalls showed her. “Frags is short for card fragments, right?”

  Kalak gave her an incredulous look. “What else would it mean?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just making sure.”

  Heat was emanating from the stone of the pyramid in waves. She was already sweating in the heat of the sun, though Cleo figured it was around midday, so it should only get a little worse. Come to think of it, she didn’t know what season it was, and asking would reveal too much. The cloth awnings obviously helped to keep the sun off, and she could see many of the stallholders had canteens to keep them hydrated—another addition to her to-do list. Their goods were basically the produce the farmers brought into the city, which they must offload to various merchants before heading back out. One stall sold meat pies, which tempted her empty stomach, but without knowing what meat was inside it was too risky. Another sold meat on wooden skewers grilled over charcoal and was doing a roaring trade, as were a few stalls selling nuts and fruits.

  The crowds and clash of languages were disorienting for Cleo. She’d been in teeming crowds before, but every detail was slightly off and disconcerting. The people themselves were… interesting. Along with dusky blue-skinned individuals, there were also those with burnt-umber tones, silvery gray, nut-brown to almost black. Their features were almost as varied, from wide-set eyes to thin and also flat noses, slightly pointed ear tips to rounded ears. A few, she noticed, had strangely slanted eyes. She was sure there were at least half a dozen races, along with many with a mixed heritage like herself.

  And while she walked alongside Rosalia and Kalak, Cleo couldn’t help but feel out of place, an outcast in a strange land. She drew more than her fair share of glances, what with her feet clad in rags and her dust covered sheath dress. The dizzying sensation only grew as they moved around a man at the side of the street selling knives and various short swords, but her rumbling stomach grounded her and forced her to collect her wayward thoughts.

  “Are we going somewhere to eat soon?” Cleo asked before she could stop herself. I wonder if this world has pastries?

  “Clean up, then eat,” Kalak said. “You should have had more jerky.”

  If I could have, I would have. “Eating meat is against my religion.”

  “Eh? Is it?”

  “No,” Cleo said, deadpan.

  Rosalia sniggered, and Kalak shook his head. “Serves me right, rescuing a princess,” he said. “Rosalia, I’ll offload these card fragments and meet you later?”

  The mage nodded, and Kalak took off down a side street. Many of the buildings were made from a different stone to the pyramid itself, a sandy-colored material that felt harder than sandstone when Cleo brushed her fingers over it; and some were made from mud brick. None looked temporary, and many seemed well-made but aged, as if the buildings squatting on the pyramid had been here a long time. All had narrow doorways and shuttered windows, with shallow balconies on upper levels. Clothes hung out to dry festooned the upper floors, and beneath the scent of too many humans crowded into a small area was a sewer stink. On the upper steps, far above in the distance where there were no buildings, she could see large black birds perched on the edge of the steps.

  “Cards and frags are traded on the Second Step, and that’s where the Deck Makers are,” Rosalia said. “It won’t take Kalak long to sell the frags, along with the daggers. Then we can have a good meal, divide the loot, and get you settled. Tomorrow we can head over to the guild and see about getting you registered.”

  Deck Makers… who probably assemble the fragments into cards? And are able to convert skill cards into class cards? Truly, Cleo had no idea. It seemed every bit of knowledge or answer she received only left her with more questions.

  “Who’ll buy the daggers?”

  “Collectors, mostly. They’ll be shipped to various capital cities and change hands there. Artifacts and relics are rare, and the Empire gets first bid on them if you’re selling on the open market. That’s if they’re not confiscated.”

  Cleo could see how that would lead to a black market in artifacts and relics, whatever the difference was between the two of them. Something else to figure out.

  Rosalia led them down another side street, and then along a narrow alley. In the shade, the heat was bearable, but a hat wouldn’t go astray. She’d seen many people wearing woven straw hats of various types, along with probably more expensive felt cloth varieties.

  “Here we are,” Rosalia said, as the alley opened into a courtyard where vines grew from half-barrel pots, climbing up trellises and wooden-shingled canopies above doorways. The sewer stink wasn’t nearly as prominent here, and there was a hint of fragrant blossoms. “Let’s get those rags off your feet, Cleo, before we go inside.”

  The mage helped her to undo tight knots, a few they had to cut off with a knife, and they left the ragged, dusty cloth strips in a pile outside the door. “I’ll dispose of those later,” the mage said, to Cleo’s grateful smile and nod.

  Her feet began to throb when the pressure of the rags was removed, and the pain emanating from them soon grew to match what she felt in her joints and her protesting muscles not used to exercise. Thoughts of another healing potion drifted into her mind, and she wondered exactly how much they would cost. That small sip was the sole reason she was still on her feet. Expensive, but how expensive…

  The mage dumped her backpack and rummaged around until she withdrew an iron key, which she used to unlock a chipped, red-painted door. Ushering Cleo inside, Rosalia shoved her pack against a wall and led them to a side room, where there were pairs of boots and shoes and sandals along one wall, and a small basin up against another. Above the basin, a copper pipe with a connected handle protruded from the wall, and there was another pipe higher up which extended two feet from the wall and ended in a perforated tin rose.

  A shower! “Tell me that’s a shower…” She looked down at the floor, and for the first time noticed shallow grooves in the stone that led to a corner drain.

  “It is!” Rosalia said as she pulled out two towels from a woven basket, along with two smaller washcloths. “Time to get rid of some of this dust. Shuck off your dress. We’re similar in size, so you can wear some of my clothes until you buy some of your own.”

  And with that said, the mage disrobed right in front of Cleo, who averted her eyes in surprise. No modesty here, she thought. “Where does the water come from?” Cleo asked as she turned so that her back was to Rosalia and began to remove her armbands and neck-torc. She wasn’t sure about being naked in front of a stranger, but as her dad said, “When in Rome,” which meant adjusting to different traditions and customs. At least Kalak wasn’t here. And maybe that was another reason he’d gone off on his own, to give them time and space to clean up. Her estimation of him went up a notch.

  Rosalia was already under the shower. She turned the handle and immediately shoved her face under the stream of water that flowed out of the tin rose.

  “Sorry!” the mage spluttered. “Me first! A lot of water flows down the steps when it rains, and even when there’s a heavy mist. Every building has cisterns built into the roofs and often on the ground floor as well.” She vigorously scrubbed her hair and skin with a washcloth. The water runoff slowly turned from a gray-muddy-gunk to a not-quite-so-gray stream, and then clear. Rosalia’s skin, now that it wasn’t dust covered, bore an interesting silvery tint, as did her black hair. Cleo looked away again and undressed, having to peel off parts of her dress. Sweat and dirt and dust were gross. She shoved it aside with a foot.

  “And the water never runs out?”

  “Occasionally. But there are enough empty buildings with their cisterns that you can make do with buckets for a while. It doesn’t happen often.” Rosalia snorted heavily a few times and then wiggled the tips of her index fingers inside her nostrils. “Urg. It’ll have to do for now. We’ll visit the baths tomorrow.” She stepped out of the shower, skin and hair dripping wet, and reached for a towel. “It's your turn, but make it quick.”

  Cleo ducked her head and gasped in pleasure as hot water hit her skin. She’d been expecting cold, but it made sense that water from a roof cistern had warmed up in the sun. She scrubbed as best she could with the other washcloth, and ran her fingers through her hair until the water splashing at her feet grew clear. When she turned the water off, Rosalia threw her a towel before disappearing out the door. She dried off, the towel rough but usable, a far cry from the mass-produced cotton towels she was used to. She then rinsed off her armbands and torc, and took a few minutes to do her best to clean her sheath dress. It had, after all, come from a goddess, and she couldn’t leave it dirty and lying around. She was surprised the metal beads at the hem had survived her brief time in the Blighted Lands though. She inspected them closely and saw they were attached with metallic threads. Wringing out the dress, she laid it over the side of the basin, and her hand ran over the hard shape of the coins in the pocket.

  Oh, I’d forgotten about them. Let’s hope they’re gold!

  Cleo reached in and took them out, and found herself holding seven triangular-shaped copper coins with rounded corners, each with indecipherable runes stamped in the center of both sides. Copper. Oh well, it was better than nothing. The coins were thicker than expected—she thought ancient coins were usually thinner from what she remembered from history—and their edges were grooved. She placed the coins to the side and had just wrapped the towel around her when Rosalia returned, wearing a comfortable light-brown woolen robe. She handed another one to Cleo, along with some small-clothes.

  “We’re of a size, so they should fit. And they’re new. I’ll leave you to get dressed. You can borrow some sandals too. Find me in the living room when you’re done. We need to go over some things before Kalak returns. Nothing serious, just mage stuff he wouldn’t be interested in.”

  When she’d left, Cleo slipped the robe over her head and tied off the cord around the waist. She had the feeling that Rosalia hadn’t been quite honest with her, and that she had some consequential questions for Cleo—or maybe she was just being paranoid. Her washcloth and towel she dumped atop Rosalia’s, which she’d left on the floor, and she scooped up her coins. The house had five rooms downstairs: the washroom, a living room and a kitchen, along with a small storage room and a privy—which consisted of a wooden seat atop a large tin bucket. Stone stairs led up to another floor, but Cleo didn’t want to explore yet unless she’d been given permission.

  Rosalia sat in the living room, cross-legged atop a flat cushion. There were three more similar cushions around a low coffee table, atop which sat two pewter mugs with steam rising off them and two larger glasses filled with water.

  Coffee… was there any here? She wasn’t a huge coffee drinker, but did enjoy the occasional cup, especially when she’d had to get up early.

  The mage beckoned Cleo over, and she sat on a cushion beside her.

  “Now,” Rosalia said, the corners of her eyes creasing. “Kalak should be back soon, then he can wash up, and we’ll go out for a feast. Jerky keeps the hunger away, barely, but once you’re back a good feed does wonders. I’ll warn you now, though: try to ignore Kalak’s bad manners. He chews with his mouth open and he won’t stop until he’s had a steak or two and a few beers.”

  “That’s fine,” Cleo said, examining the wood of the coffee table. It had a delicate grain, and looked like walnut, but there were hair-fine black lines running through it like lightning.

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  Rosalia took one mug and handed the other to Cleo. The mage sipped her drink, smacked her lips, and let out a long sigh of appreciation. “There’s plenty of water as well, and you’ll need it. But try this first. It’s hot, but it’s sweet and tasty, and it’ll keep the hunger at bay. Go ahead. I don’t think you’ll have had this drink before, since it’s made from the seed of the mateh tree, which grows locally. They call it koko-mateh, but usually shorten it to koko.”

  She pronounced it mah-teh. Cleo hoped the drink had some caffeine in it, because she was sure she’d need something to replace coffee, and she was bone weary from her short stint in the Blighted Lands. She sipped the drink cautiously. It was grassy and coffee-like, sweet, with toffee and vanilla undertones. She decided it was delicious and sipped more as fast as she could without scalding her tongue and mouth. It wasn’t food, but it was an enjoyable substitute for the moment.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” Rosalia said. “The plant is common in these parts, but not so much everywhere else. It’s one good thing about the frontier here, this close to the line. There isn’t much else good.”

  “Then why stay here?”

  “Loot. Card fragments and coins, and the chance at an artifact or relic. Everyone wants a class card; well, most people do. But once you have one, and you have the benefits and can use a skill or spells, it’s usual to want more. And the frontier and the Blighted Lands are the best place to earn as much as you can, if you’re willing to risk your life. People who can’t register with the Adventurers Guild scavenge around the periphery of the frontier. Scavs they’re called, but they’re just dumb and out of options, usually.”

  Cleo jingled the coins in her hand, the metal triangles warm from her body heat. She placed them on the table. “I had these in my pocket. I’m not sure what they’re worth, if you could—” She stopped when she saw Rosalia’s eyes widen and the mage coughed, almost spilling her koko-mateh.

  “Cleo! Where did you get these apexes?” The mage slammed her mug onto the table and scooped up the copper triangles. She held them in her palm, staring at them intently and poking a few of them with a finger.

  “They’re not copper coins?”

  “No, they are most definitely not. Imperial coins are round and thinner; these are… well, these are apexes. There’s no mistaking them. They look like copper, but they’re not. Whatever alloy they’re made of, even our best alchemists are puzzled by it. Either no one knows what it is, or if they do, they’re not telling. Did you come from an Institution? That’s the only way I know of coming across apexes.”

  “No, I’ve never heard of them before. Institutions or apexes.”

  Rosalia’s eyes narrowed at Cleo. “Are they stolen?”

  “No! Someone gave them to me, I promise I’m telling the truth.”

  “You’re an odd one, Cleo. But there’s something you’re not telling me. I rarely hesitate to pry, but I pulled you here without your consent, and I owe you. Kalak and I both do. So, I won’t ask anything personal, but feel free to enlighten me at any time.” She placed the apexes on the table, stacking them.

  Cleo bit her lip. “There are some things I can’t tell you right now. Maybe never. I’m sorry, but we all have our secrets, our struggles.”

  Rosalia didn’t look happy, but she seemed content to leave things be for now. “Is it something to do with the rash on your cheeks?”

  “Partially,” Cleo said, happy to change the subject. She thought of the best way to explain for a few moments. “I have a disease that makes my body fight against itself.” She didn’t think trying to describe autoimmune diseases and their effects would be productive, as it would only lead to more questions and, based on the level of science she’d seen, probably skepticism about biological details and how she knew them. “I get fatigued easily, and it causes inflammation in my body, which leads to joint pain and rashes, headaches, and sometimes fevers. Luckily, I haven’t started losing hair yet.”

  “Oh, you poor thing! Is that something that could happen? How long have you had this illness?”

  “Yes. I was diagnosed when I was thirteen. There’s no cure, at least where I’m from, and I could only manage the symptoms and avoid things that could trigger the disease, like red meat and too much exercise.”

  “I noticed you were thin, which isn’t usual, especially with carded individuals. Your class card passives should… but maybe not…”

  Class card passives? Cleo re-checked, but as she’d seen before, there were no passives. She guessed this was another of those things everyone knew since they were little, which she couldn’t ask about without her lack of basic knowledge seeming suspicious. She hesitated, debating with herself whether it was wise to admit she was from another world. Maybe her circumstances weren’t exactly unknown, but then again maybe her kind were considered alien invaders and murdered on sight, or subjected to magical experimentation. “I’m hoping that healing potions can help alleviate the symptoms, while I try to find a cure. Do you think… do you think that might be possible?”

  Rosalia grimaced and sighed. “Maybe. I just don’t know enough. I mean, almost anything can be cured, but you’d need a lot of money or artifacts to pay for it. And to find someone willing.” She looked at Cleo and must have seen the disappointment on her face. “I’m sorry! It’s possible! I didn’t mean to be discouraging. You’ll have to work for it, though. And even healing potions don’t come cheap. Please don’t stress over it. You have a goal, something to work towards. And Kalak and I will help you out as best we can. You said something about needing to go to the Misk’Imas Institution, and you’ll need some guidance and help to get you started on your journey.”

  “Oh, is it that far away? There’s no way to, you know—” Cleo waved a hand in what she thought was a vaguely magical gesture, “—teleport, or portal, or something?” She drank more koko, relishing the warm feeling it gave her, and it had seemed to perk her up a little.

  “The Institute you’re after is quite some way away. And portals are the province of the Empire’s mages. If you have any type of spatial magic card they’ll snap you up and you’ll be in the Imperial forces before you know it. Needless to say, it’s not available to ordinary citizens unless you’re extremely wealthy or well connected.”

  Rosalia’s words reminded Cleo of her Hole card. Was it spatial magic? She decided to mention it. “If you recall, I have a Hole card, which I haven’t tested.” She’d had other things on her mind like putting down undead and staying alive, and whenever she’d had a chance to rest, her thoughts had been skittish and troubled.

  “I do recall, and it was on my list of things to discuss with you. I don’t know how you hadn’t used your cards when we… found you. Though you did say they were new to you. We’ll get this out of the way, and then there are other matters to discuss before Kalak gets back. Let me just—” Rosalia stood and disappeared into the kitchen, where she rummaged around for a few moments, before returning with a green-glazed ceramic plate. “Make a hole in this, if you can. It’s okay to ruin it. We don’t really have anything else, unless we want to go outside and try it on the stone of the pyramid? But that might be problematic.”

  “If you’re sure it’s okay?”

  “It is. Go for it! I’ll help.”

  Cleo focused on the plate that Rosalia held up facing her, and to the side. This time, she decided to vocalize, so the mage would know when she triggered the skill.

  “Hole,” Cleo said.

  There was a faint hum and vibration in the air, and a hole the size of Cleo’s pinky nail appeared in the plate. Rosalia twitched, and glanced behind her at the wall, but there was no sign of any damage.

  “Right,” Rosalia said, examining the plate. “So it does just create a hole. There’s no beam of any sort, as I suspected, but it’s best to make sure.” She ran a fingertip along the edge of the hole. “It’s crisp. Sharp, as if the material has just been destroyed somehow. Cleo, this could be dangerous… oh, wait… didn’t you say it had limitations?”

  Cleo nodded. “The description says it only works on inanimate objects. I don’t think we should test it on anyone, or anything, alive.”

  Rosalia laughed and placed the plate on the table near the apexes. “True. I’m not eager to try it out either. But you’d be wise to do so sometime, just to be sure. And to experiment with what the system considers inanimate. Are the undead inanimate, since they’re dead? I’m not sure. So, you need to test what’s possible.”

  “I will.”

  “There are two things I’ve been meaning to do once we made it back here. The first is, does your aura card mention aura proficiency?”

  “No…” Cleo checked, just to be sure. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Okay, then. From what I know about Aura Mages, they sometimes have the ability to increase the effectiveness of their auras. It makes them more proficient.”

  “Like a percentage increase?”

  “Exactly! Obviously, with higher-tier cards it’s more likely. But there are some artifacts or relics that are imbued with the same ability. It does give an Aura Mage a boost in their abilities, but they’re not usually very powerful, so…”

  “Boosting a shitty Aura Mage’s abilities doesn’t have much of an effect?”

  “That would be true, but you’re not a shitty Aura Mage, are you, Cleo?”

  Rosalia’s words pressed on Cleo, as if speaking gave them form and thickened the surrounding air. Her chest tightened, and she couldn’t meet the mage’s eyes. “Was it that obvious?” she managed to squeak out.

  “Not to Kalak. But I’ve seen Aura Mages before, and they have nothing as respectable as your energy shield. Even your regeneration aura was a surprise. And, they spend their mana to maintain auras, not reserve mana like you do. Which means they’re time limited, somewhat. You aren’t.”

  Rosalia stopped speaking then, and a silence hung between them. Cleo guessed she was waiting for her to elaborate, but what could she say? Honesty would raise far more questions that she didn’t know the answers to, and she had been told to be extremely careful. Half-truths, then, she decided, knowing she’d have to make it up to the mage when she could.

  “I’m an Aura Guardian, not an Aura Mage. I was told it was an old class, and might not be recognizable or understood the same as an Aura Mage would.”

  “Old? Try ancient.” Rosalia took a few sips from her mug of koko, her eyes narrowed in thought. “I have heard of it, barely. And only because I attended an Institution for a year. And still, only because there was a mention of them in an old book I was reading. I don’t think many people outside of the Institutions would know about the class. But that leads to another, more interesting question… why then, when I identify you, does my skill tell me you’re an Aura Mage?”

  Cleo followed Rosalia and sipped her own drink to give herself time to think. Koko-mateh was wonderful, and she could certainly get used to it. “I guess since my class is ancient, you’re given the closest modern approximation?” That sounded plausible, didn’t it?

  “Maybe. I’ll think on it, but the reality is, it’s not really my concern. And it might be for the best that your class abilities are concealed. It would certainly mean you’re underestimated. If that’s what you want.” Rosalia nodded then, as if deciding on something. “Definitely an advantage. If I were you, I wouldn’t tell anyone my actual class. There will be those that see through the deception, higher tiered individuals, but you can deal with those situations if and when they occur.”

  Hinges squeaked as the front door opened, and Cleo heard a muffled curse. Kalak.

  “All done,” he shouted, loud enough to wake the dead. “I’ll wash and then join you. Make me some koko.” There was more banging, and the metallic clip of buckles unfastening, and the thump of hardened leather hitting the floor, before the shower turned on.

  Rosalia gulped down a mouthful of koko before placing her mug on the low table. She darted into the kitchen and returned with another full mug which she put on the table.

  “Before Kalak’s done,” she said, “there’s something else. Usually, asking another mage about their mana strength is considered rude. And asking about their class card or spell skills is worse. However, you are new to your cards, and we’ve been through quite a lot together already, so I hope you don’t mind if I measure your mana capacity. As you already know, mana capacity depends on a few factors, including an inherent talent some people have.” Rosalia held up a cobalt crystal the size of a quail egg. “I’m sure you’ve seen one of these before, since you’re a mage.”

  “Where did that come from?” Cleo hadn’t seen her reach into a pocket, or do anything else that might have produced the marble-like object. It had been like a magic trick, a slight-of-hand.

  “I keep it in my storage space. I have only a small one! I’m not rich. It holds some essentials, and things I wouldn’t want to leave behind if I have to flee. Not that Ankratur would be overrun, but it’s best to be prepared.”

  An inventory? A bag-of-holding type card or artifact? “It holds items for you? Somewhere… else?” Cleo added obtaining one to her to-do-list.

  “Yes. If you can, try to get a pocket dimension artifact. They’re rare and extremely expensive, but worth it. Anyhow, we need to be quick. Hold the crystal. I’ll channel some mana into it, and we’ll get an idea of your mana capacity. It’s quite simple.”

  “Er… yes, of course.” Cleo wasn’t sure about this, though. Her mana capacity was enhanced by her Legend card, and surely Rosalia would know it was much larger than normal. But wouldn’t most mages have some way of increasing their mana? Surely tier ups granted benefits, and mana cycling had something to do with it, from what Rosalia had told her. Maybe her mana pool, or reservoir, or whatever terminology they used here, wasn’t that big and wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

  Somehow, Cleo knew that she was fooling herself. But she couldn’t think of a believable excuse not to measure her capacity. It would also be good for her to know what she was capable of and how much any improvements meant, in concrete terms. And Rosalia had proven trustworthy so far, and she was sick of lying to and deceiving the mage.

  Cleo took hold of the crystal, which was warm to the touch. Far warmer than room temperature, almost hot. “What do I do, now?”

  “Nothing. I’ll do the rest.”

  Rosalia breathed in, nostrils flaring, and then in the blink of an eye the crystal in Cleo’s hand went cold. She felt something then—a tendril connecting her to the crystal. Before she could send her newfound magical senses after it, the sensation disappeared. She felt the crystal immediately begin to warm up.

  “Is that it? Is it done?” Cleo asked.

  “It is,” Rosalia replied slowly. Her eyes bore into Cleo’s. “Hmm… hand me the crystal back, please, Cleo.”

  Once the mage had the cobalt marble, it vanished as if it had never existed.

  Definitely getting a storage item, thought Cleo. Would it keep things fresh? Could she store pastries and they wouldn’t go stale?

  “Cleo,” Rosalia said. “Maybe it’s something to do with being an Aura Mage, sorry, Aura Guardian, that will be the last time I mention your true class, but your mana capacity is astonishing. Truly. My best guess is that because you have to reserve quite a bit of mana for your auras, you’re granted extra capacity. It makes sense. But I’d have to do some research to find out more.”

  “Ah, that’s okay. I can do my own once I get to the Institute. My class card does mention increased mana capacity. It’s—”

  Rosalia held up a hand, stopping her. “Don’t tell me. Don’t tell anyone if you can avoid it.”

  “Okay. Then, if you don’t mind me asking, what is mana measured in?”

  “Oh. Thaums. It’s not exact, so there’s a small margin of error, but still… you have roughly around seven-hundred and twenty thaums. That’s unheard of for an F minus tier class.”

  Cleo did a quick calculation: her five-hundred percent increase meant she had six times what she would have had normally, so that would be one-hundred and… twenty? “But if I reserve two fifty-percent auras, I’m left with nothing. I couldn’t even cast one curse.”

  “That’s true. Even so, I’m not sure what to make of this.”

  “Well, my energy shield uses the mana I reserve, so it would be practically useless if I had a small mana capacity, right?”

  Rosalia slowly nodded. “Maybe that’s it.” She didn’t sound convinced, though.

  Just then, Kalak came out of the shower room wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. There was a thin layer of hair on his torso and shoulders, making him look a bit like a bear. His hair was wet, and Cleo could now see his skin had a dusky blue tinge. His short hair was damp, and drops of water fell from the tips onto the floor.

  “Why are there orichalcum beads on Cleo’s dress?” he said, and then his face fell as he looked at the table.

  “What happened to my plate?!”

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