The golden orbs drifted ahead of us, weaving between trees like obedient stars.
The forest had grown quieter. The storm was fading into a low murmur, leaving only the crunch of damp leaves beneath our steps.
As we followed the light, exhaustion began creeping into my legs.
I exhaled slowly.
"Is there any way to travel besides walking?" I asked.
Fenrina did not look back.
"It would have been done sooner," she replied calmly, "but I am merely third-rate when it comes to magic."
I blinked.
"Third-rate?" I echoed. "Forgive me, but given that display back there, I assumed you were far above that."
That finally earned a faint, humorless smile from her.
"Are you truly not informed about magic?"
"I suppose I lost those memories as well, if I ever had them," I answered.
She was silent for a moment before speaking again, slower this time.
"You overestimate me."
The orbs shifted slightly, adjusting their path.
"In the capital, there are Major Houses. Bloodlines blessed for generations. Their heirs wield spells that bend the sky, scorch battlefields, and reshape land."
Her voice remained composed, but something tight lingered beneath it.
"We of the minor houses… we inherit fragments. Tools. Utility. Support."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the pendant resting against her chest.
"Lux Via is guidance magic. It cannot defend. It cannot attack. It cannot shield."
She glanced at me then.
"It is light. Nothing more."
I studied the drifting orbs ahead of us.
Light that had saved us.
Light that had hidden our direction.
Light that now kept us from wandering blind into the forest.
"Then your definition of 'nothing' is impressive," I said quietly.
She did not respond immediately.
"A duchess dowager," she continued at last, "holds title. Not power."
There it was.
Not self-pity.
Not bitterness.
Just fact.
I see.
So this world runs on bloodlines.
On inherited magic.
On hierarchy.
Sir…
You really did build a system this layered.
Or am I simply rationalizing chaos again?
The orbs flickered slightly, illuminating the path forward.
We kept walking.
"Then that means minor nobles are often just authoritarian figures?" I asked.
"Mostly," Fenrina replied calmly. "Titles carry weight. Authority commands obedience. But power is something else."
She stepped over a fallen branch as the guiding orbs adjusted their path ahead of us.
"Throughout history, there have been exceptional magi born from minor houses," she continued. "But they are anomalies. Not expectations."
Anomalies.
If this truly was Sir's work, then the system would not be shallow.
He drafts obsessively. Revises endlessly. When it comes to structured systems, especially magic, he builds them with rules first and aesthetics second.
Traditional.
Ordered.
He writes magic like language.
If this world follows his habits, then it must have sequence.
"May you teach me more about how magic works?" I asked.
She glanced at me briefly, assessing.
"Very well."
Her tone shifted slightly, less guarded and more instructive.
"All magic here must follow a sequence to be properly invoked. Storage, Intent, Input, Output."
I repeated the terms silently.
A sequence.
Of course.
"Storage is the mana within the body. Every individual possesses it in varying quantities."
"Intent defines purpose. It is the foundation of the spell and the first articulation of will."
"Input refines and shapes that will. It gives direction."
"And Output," she raised her hand slightly, "is the manifestation."
I nodded slowly. "So the incantation itself follows that order?"
"Exactly."
She stopped walking.
"Observe."
She raised her palm.
"Storage," she murmured softly, more for my understanding than necessity.
Her breathing steadied.
"Intent: Oh shine the way, for my eyes could see the dark."
The air around her palm felt faintly warmer.
"Input: Let your light shine upon everywhere and all, for the world to see your greatness."
The golden pendant flickered once.
"Output: I pray thee, Fulgebunt."
The final word echoed gently in the quiet forest.
Light bloomed in her palm.
Not explosive. Not overwhelming.
Controlled.
Steady.
Like a small star resting above her skin.
The surrounding shadows thinned.
I watched carefully.
Structured.
Layered.
Language-bound manifestation.
Sir…
You really did write it this way.
Or perhaps I am forcing familiarity onto something unknown.
Fenrina lowered her hand, and the light faded naturally.
"That is basic illumination magic," she said.
The guiding orbs ahead continued drifting, waiting for us to move again.
"Are there other ways?" I asked.
"Yes," Fenrina replied. "Incantations are the most traditional method, but not the only one."
The orbs drifted ahead of us, weaving through the trees.
"Many magi use placeholders so they do not need to verbally recite a full sequence every time. Wands, staffs, rings, pendants. Objects engraved with a pre-constructed sequence. They store the structure so the caster only needs to supply mana and intent."
I glanced at the pendant resting against her chest.
"So the sequence is already carved into the object?"
"Yes. Think of it as a prepared script. Instead of writing the sentence each time, you merely read it."
"And the others?" I asked.
"Symbolists," she said. "They modify the sequence itself. Gestures, sigils, written arrays. By reducing unnecessary phrasing, they refine efficiency. Fewer words. Less waste. Greater speed."
So incantations were structured language.
Placeholders were stored structure.
Symbolism was compression.
Ordered.
Layered.
Systematic.
"So magic is the major structure this world stands on?" I asked.
"Not necessarily," she answered. "It influences politics, warfare, economics, even religion. But it is not the foundation of everything."
She stepped carefully over exposed roots.
"There are variations as well. Elemental disciplines. Ritualistic arts. Divine invocation. Alchemical constructs. What I showed you is merely orthodox noble magic."
Orthodox.
Meaning there are heterodox forms.
"I see," I murmured.
She glanced at me again, sharper this time.
"Your memory loss must have struck you deeply if you have forgotten such basic principles."
I almost laughed.
"Those are considered basic?"
"In the eyes of nobles," she replied evenly, "yes."
There was no arrogance in her voice.
Only reality.
"We are here now."
She brushed aside a thick bush, revealing a street just beyond it.
"I am about to enter again..."
I looked at her for a moment. She was uncertain, despite the composure she tried to maintain.
We walked a little farther until we reached the estate's gate.
The guards stationed there seemed to recognize her. One immediately signaled for the gates to open.
A group of guards quickly marched forward to check on the Duchess Dowager.
"Duchess Kallish, we are relieved that you returned safely. Please, allow us to assist you."
Their eyes then shifted toward me.
"This young man saved me. See to his care. He has lost his memory, so treat him gently," she said.
"As you wish."
While the Duchess Dowager was being tended to by her servants, I was brought to the estate's infirmary.
"So the Duchess Kallish said that you have lost your memory. Is that true?" the healer asked.
"Yes. The only memory I can recall is from tonight."
"And you have also lost your knowledge of things? Your understanding of the world?"
"Correct."
Although I never truly knew what knowledge this world held before I arrived here.
"The duchess gave you the name Perditus as a placeholder for your forgotten one."
"Yes. I do not know my real identity."
The healer exhaled softly. "What a troublesome predicament."
"Is something wrong?"
"Well… there are many ways for someone to lose their memories. But to lose not only knowledge, but even the memory of your own existence… that bears the mark of a curse."
"A curse?" I repeated.
"It is a possibility. Nothing more for now."
"What will become of me after this?"
"Most likely, you will be released once you recover from your injuries, unless the Duchess Dowager gives specific orders regarding you."
"I see."
He was silent for a moment before speaking again.
"Not only did she lose her husband, but she also lost her most loyal companion, her personal attendant, within the span of a month."
"I apologize if I am overstepping… but how did her husband lose his life?"
"No need to apologize. You are under her protection now, and you were caught up in her troubles as well."
He took a sip of tea before continuing.
"The late duke was born of the Kallish bloodline, a house that has long been in decline. Though they retained the title, they were reduced to minor nobility. The duke devoted his life to restoring the family's former glory. However, during a civil war in a neighboring kingdom, one that involved this empire's prince, he was sent to the frontlines to confront the opposing forces."
He paused.
"But the opposing army was not his true enemy. It was his allies."
I frowned.
"In the end, he was sold out and slain by the blades of those who stood beside him. His death was offered as compensation to appease the King of that nation, so that this empire's prince would be forgiven. And so, he was."
"So the late duke was sacrificed for the prince's crimes?"
"It preserved the prince's image. That is why the public has never heard the truth."
"Then what is this secret of the prince that I heard about when I was captured?"
"The secret… is that the prince was the reason the civil war began."
"What did he do?"
The healer's expression darkened.
"The prince assaulted the first-born princess of that nation during his stay there. He defiled a figure regarded as sacred purity within her own kingdom. Not once. Not twice. But repeatedly, during each of his visits."
Silence filled the room.
"So the prince is a vile man," I said quietly.
"Those of us under the Duchess Dowager have always known. Before we could act, we were silenced. That is why she traveled to the empire herself, demanding a proper trial. But with the Kallish family's declining authority, and as a woman challenging the crown, she was branded a heretic and sentenced to capture."
"If it is reported that she has returned to her estate… what will happen to all of you?"
The healer set his cup down gently.
"That is for the future to decide. But we will fight back, even if it costs our lives. The truth must be exposed."