Chapter 9: First Recruitment
Eight hundred GP bought the Mana Awakening Manual.
The system presented it as a physical book—materializing in my pack one morning with a weight and texture that felt completely real. Leather cover, actual pages, hand-written text in a script that my Auto-Translation ability rendered perfectly readable. The information inside was genuine magical instruction, basics of channeling and focus that would cost hundreds of crowns from legitimate tutors.
"The system creates physical items from nothing. Or accesses them from somewhere. Either way, it's useful."
I spent three days reviewing the manual, confirming it contained nothing that would harm or bind Mira beyond standard learning. The magic was clean—no hidden costs, no soul-trapping clauses. Just knowledge, formatted for self-study.
On the fourth day, I found her during her break. She was sitting behind the tavern, enjoying fifteen minutes of silence between the lunch rush and dinner preparation. A small globe of light hovered above her palm—her magic, I realized. Soft and steady.
"You've been practicing."
She closed her hand. The light vanished. "Didn't hear you approach."
"I move quietly." I sat on the crate beside her. "I said I'd have a real answer. Are you still interested?"
"Depends on the answer."
I produced the manual. The leather caught afternoon sunlight, gold lettering glinting on the spine. Mira's eyes widened.
"Is that... where did you get that?"
"I have resources. Unconventional ones." I handed it to her. "Mana Awakening Manual. Foundation techniques for channeling, focus exercises, methods for expanding natural capacity. It's meant for self-study."
She opened it carefully, reverently. Her fingers traced the text, lips moving as she read. After a moment, she looked up.
"This is worth a fortune."
"It's worth exactly what it enables." I let that sink in. "Aretuza rejected you because your power wasn't dramatic enough. They wanted sorceresses who could level battlefields. But you have talent—controlled, precise, perfectible. That's valuable in different ways."
"And you want what, exactly? In exchange?"
"A partnership." I kept my voice level, honest. "I'm building a guild. An organization that trains and supports people with potential. You would be the first member. In exchange for resources like this manual, you'd work with me—administrative help at first, magical support as you develop."
"Administrative help."
"You're observant. Organized. You notice details I miss." All true. "And eventually, when you're trained, you could do things no pure combat mage would think of. Light magic has applications nobody's bothered exploring because it doesn't kill things dramatically."
She stared at the manual in her hands. Weighing my words against years of rejection and disappointment.
"What's the catch?"
"Oath-binding." No point hiding it. "Magical commitment to the guild. It works both ways—I'm bound to support members, members are bound to the organization. Break the oath, there are consequences. But it's not slavery—you can leave if the organization fails you. The binding enforces mutual loyalty."
"And if I say no?"
"You keep the manual anyway." I meant it. "Consider it compensation for honest conversation and bringing me soup when I looked pathetic."
That surprised her. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
"I need to think."
"Take your time. I'll be at the docks tomorrow morning, looking for shipping contracts. Find me when you've decided."
I left her with the manual and walked away. The pitch was made. The choice was hers.
Mira's Perspective
I stayed up all night with the manual.
The text was dense but clear. Exercises for breathing, for focus, for channeling energy through specific patterns. I tried a few simple ones—meditation techniques, mainly—and felt something shift. Like a door cracking open in my mind.
The light in my palm grew brighter. Steadier. More controlled.
"Real training. This is what real training feels like."
Aretuza's tests had lasted an hour. A bored proctor measuring my magical output, pronouncing it insufficient, moving on to the next candidate. They'd never taught me anything. Never given me tools to grow. Just measured what I already was and found it lacking.
This manual assumed growth was possible. Expected it, even.
By dawn, I'd made my decision.
I found Finn at the docks as he'd said. He was examining shipping manifests, probably appraising cargo for some merchant. When he saw me approach, he set the papers aside.
"Decided?"
"I have questions first."
"Fair enough."
"The oath-binding. What exactly does it feel like?"
"I don't know yet. You'd be the first member." Honest answer. Points for that. "The oath creates a connection—I'll be able to sense your general location and wellbeing. You'll feel... protected, I think. Part of something larger."
"And if you die? Or the guild fails?"
"The oath dissolves. No permanent harm. You'd be free, just without the organizational backing."
I turned the manual over in my hands. Solid. Real. Full of possibilities.
"I'm in."
Finn nodded. No celebration, no dramatic relief. Just acceptance, like he'd expected this outcome all along.
"The oath is simple. Repeat after me, and mean it." He took my hands. His grip was warm, steady. "I, Mira Voss, swear loyalty to the Covenant of Blades..."
I repeated the words. They felt strange in my mouth—formal, ancient, weighted with meaning beyond simple syllables.
"...to support its members and uphold its purpose..."
Power built between our joined hands. Not my light—something else. Something golden, thrumming with energy I couldn't name.
"...until released by death, dissolution, or mutual agreement."
The power crested and broke. Golden light flared, visible only for an instant, then settled into something I could feel rather than see. A connection. A thread linking me to him, to something larger than either of us.
[OATH BINDING COMPLETE]
The words appeared in my vision—just for a moment, letters of light that vanished as quickly as they came. I blinked, startled.
"Did you see—"
"The binding settled." Finn released my hands. "Welcome to the Covenant of Blades. Population: two."
I laughed. Couldn't help it. The absurdity of the moment—standing on Oxenfurt docks at dawn, having just sworn magical loyalty to a teenage monster-killer with mysterious resources.
"What now?"
"Now you study. Train. Develop your magic until it's worth more than Aretuza ever imagined." He smiled—genuine warmth breaking through his usual calculation. "And I find us more members. More contracts. More resources."
"And eventually?"
"Eventually we're strong enough that nobody overlooks our potential again."
The sun rose behind him, golden light spreading across the river. A new day. A new beginning.
The Covenant of Blades existed now. Small, fragile, ridiculous in its ambition.
But real. Finally, actually real.
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