I limped up the stairs, the adrenaline fading into a dull, throbbing ache in my leg. I kicked the cellar door shut with my heel.
The baker was waiting, arms crossed, tapping his foot. He looked at my bloodied tunic, then at the rat gore on my boots.
"Done?" he asked, his eyes darting to the door behind me.
"Done," I said, leaning on my spear. "Seven of them. Big ones."
I watched him trying to analyze him. I looked at his hands-clenching and unclenching on his apron. I looked at the sweat beading on his upper lip.
He wasn't worried about the rats. He was worried about what the rats had been eating.
"Did you... move anything?" the baker asked, his voice tight. "Damage the stock?"
I paused. The image of the black crate with the silver seal flashed in my mind. Military-grade mana. Smuggled goods. Treason, probably.
Not my circus. Not my monkeys.
"Just the rats," I lied smoothly. I gestured to my torn trousers. "Though one of them took a piece of me. You owe me hazard pay."
The baker visibly relaxed. The tension in his shoulders dropped. He thought I was just a dumb F-Rank digging for copper who wouldn't know a mana potion from grape juice.
"Hazard pay? For pests?" He scoffed, but he reached into his pouch and slapped coins onto the counter. "Here. Fifteen copper. And I'll give you a loaf of bread. Take it and get out before you scare the customers."
I swept the coins into my pocket. "Pleasure doing business."
I walked out of the shop, the bell chiming cheerfully behind me. As soon as I turned the corner into the alley, I let out a long breath.
"Smuggling," I whispered to the brick wall. "He's smuggling mana."
For a split second, I considered going back to the Guild. I could report him. Maybe get a reward.
Then I laughed, a bitter, dry sound.
"Yeah, right."
If I walked into the Guild and accused a wealthy merchant of smuggling, one of two things would happen:
1. They wouldn't believe the Unblessed kid.
2. They would believe me, and the baker's suppliers, whoever was powerful enough to steal military supplies, would find me and turn me into rat food.
"I don't care," I told myself, limping toward the woods. "I got my fifteen copper. Let the Order deal with their own leaks. I just want to live my life."
The climb to the training grounds was agony. The rat bite was burning—sewer fever was already trying to set in.
When I finally broke through the tree line, Kaelen was there. He wasn't meditating this time. He was skinning a rabbit by a small fire.
He didn't look up. "You're late. And you're limping. Left leg. Puncture wound."
"Rats," I grunted, dropping down near the fire. "Mutated. The size of dogs."
I winced as I stretched my leg out. "And before you ask, no, I didn't use the 'Intent' properly. Hard to read the intent of a rodent when it's flying at your face."
"Sewer rats get big," Kaelen said dismissively. "It happens when they eat magical runoff."
"Yeah, well, these ones were eating the good stuff," I muttered, taking a swig from my waterskin. "There was a crate hidden in the back. Black wood. Silver seal."
Kaelen's hand stopped mid-cut.
He looked up slowly, his violet eyes narrowing. "A black crate? With a silver seal?"
"Yeah. Some Alchemist Guild shipment, I guess." I shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Rats chewed through it. Purple goop everywhere. Anyway, is that rabbit almost done? I'm starving."
Kaelen set the knife down. He ignored the rabbit. "Adam. Did you tell the Guild?"
"What? No." I looked at him like he was crazy. "Why would I? The baker paid me. If I rat him out, I get involved. I don't want to get involved. I want to eat, sleep, and not die."
"You saw a crate of Volatile Ether—illegal military explosives—and you decided it was 'not your problem'?" Kaelen asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"I'm F-Rank, Kaelen," I shot back. "My job description is 'lift heavy things.' It doesn't say 'stop international smuggling rings.' Besides, the baker thinks I'm an idiot. It's better that way."
Kaelen stared at me for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, he smirked.
"Self-preservation," he mused. "A noble trait. Stupid, but noble."
He stood up and walked over to inspect my leg.
"You're right not to tell the Guild," he said, slapping a poultice of green sludge onto my bite. I hissed in pain. "The Guild Master in Riverwood takes a cut of the tariffs. If you reported it, you'd be dead by morning."
"See?" I gritted out through clenched teeth. "Dead. Exactly what I'm trying to avoid."
"However," Kaelen continued, wiping his hands. "You are now my student. And my students do not ignore leverage."
"Leverage?"
"That baker is a small fish," Kaelen said, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. "But small fish swim with sharks. If there is Ether in this town, it means the Order is compromised. And if we know where the leak is..."
"We can plug it?" I asked hopefullly.
"No," Kaelen laughed, a dry, sharp sound. "We can exploit it."
He sat back down and tossed me a piece of the cooked rabbit.
"Eat. You heal, then we watch. You might not care about the law, Adam, but you care about gold, don't you? Smugglers carry a lot of gold."
I chewed the meat, thinking about the tuition fees for the next semester. Thinking about the empty cupboards at home.
"I'm listening," I mumbled.
"Good. Because tomorrow, you're going back to that bakery. Not to hunt rats, but to hunt the supplier."
I groaned. "I really just wanted to go to school."
"You will," Kaelen promised. "But first, take this."
He tossed me a small, grey stone.
"A Whisper Stone. It vibrates near unstable magic. Keep it in your pocket. If that baker moves the crate, or if someone carrying similar goods comes near you... you'll know."
I pocketed the stone. "Fine. I guess."
I slept like the dead that night, waking up only when my mother banged on the door.
"Adam! You'll be late for school!"
I dragged myself out of bed. My leg was stiff, but the infection was gone.
I dressed in my scratchy grey uniform, grabbed my bag (hiding the short sword at the bottom), and headed out. The Whisper Stone sat heavy in my pocket.
I walked to school, head down, reviewing history dates in my mind. I was going to be a normal student today. Just a normal, invisible Unblessed kid.
"Well, look who it is."
I really kinda wanted to be a invisible Unblessed kid but I totally forgot I got a girlfriend in my school.
Leaning against the brick archway was Gareth.
He looked different. He was wearing the padded doublet of the Junior Guard, a heavy mace at his belt. He looked bigger, more swollen with self-importance.
"I heard you went to the Guild. Cleaning sewers, Reed?" Gareth sneered, pushing off the wall.
"Someone has to," I said, trying to step around him. "Excuse me, Gareth. I'm late."
He stepped in front of me. His hand clamped onto my shoulder.
"I'm talking to you, dirt," Gareth said, leaning in. "You think you're tough because you walked away yesterday? You're an embarrassment."
My hand twitched toward my belt. Not for the sword—I couldn't draw steel at school—but my body reacted. I shifted my weight, instinctively preparing to drive my knee into his groin. Intent. I could feel his balance was off. He was top-heavy with that armor.
Don't, I told myself. You're a student today. Just a student.
"Let go, Gareth," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I have class."
"Or what?" Gareth laughed, looking back at his lackeys. "You gonna bleed on me?"
"Mr. Gareth! Unhand that student immediately!"
The voice was thin and reedy, but it carried the weight of authority.
Gareth stiffened. He dropped his hand and spun around, his armor clanking.
Standing at the top of the school steps was Mr. Halloway, our History teacher. He was a balding man in a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows, hugging a heavy leather satchel to his chest. He looked like a strong wind could blow him over, but his eyes were narrowed behind his spectacles.
"Bullying is a violation of the Junior Guard code of conduct, is it not?" Halloway called out, adjusting his glasses. "I would hate to write a letter to the Captain on your first week."
Gareth's face flushed red. He glared at Halloway, then back at me.
"This isn't over, Reed," Gareth whispered. "Hide behind the teachers all you want."
He shoved past me, signaling his lackeys. They stormed off toward the athletic fields, muttering curses.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Are you alright, Adam?" Mr. Halloway asked, walking down the steps to meet me.
"I'm fine, sir," I lied, straightening my tunic. "Just... old friends catching up."
Halloway sighed, shaking his head. "The Blessed can be... overzealous. But you must try to avoid confrontation, Adam. You have a bright mind. Don't let it get kicked out of you."
He offered me a tired, kindly smile. "Come. Walk with me to class. We're discussing the Trade Tariffs of the Third Age today. I know how much you love economics."
"Right. Can't wait," I mumbled, falling into step beside him.
We walked into the main brick building together. The halls were crowded with students rushing to their first period.
It felt safe. Halloway was boring, strict, and harmless. The perfect shield against bullies.
"I actually have a surprise for the class today," Halloway said, shifting the heavy leather satchel from one arm to the other. "A practical demonstration of alchemical compounds used in trade."
"That sounds... fascinating, sir."
"It will be, Adam. It will be." Halloway stopped at the door to the faculty lounge. "You go on ahead and take your seat. I need to fetch something."
He gave me a nod and disappeared into the lounge.
I walked into the classroom alone.
The room was already buzzing with noise. Students were scraping wooden chairs against the floor, throwing balls of paper, and shouting across the desks.
I headed toward my usual seat in the back, the "invisible" spot. But a commotion near the window caught my eye.