Bart, as he was known to Orion, was the member of the Basilisk Fang he knew the least about.

  He was a white mage, meaning he specialized in Light magic, focusing on healing and protection. That should have made them more friendly, given that Orion came from the Sanctum, but he never picked up on the other's interest in getting to know him better, and that was okay with him.

  If anything, a man in his thirties trying to get closer to a thirteen-year-old would have been cause for concern.

  So they greeted each other politely whenever they met and then went their separate ways without wasting time on pointless chatter, since neither was particularly interested in the other.

  Or rather, Orion had a few questions he'd like to ask, especially about Bart’s past with the Sanctum and his barrier magic, which seemed way more advanced than what he was working with. But he held back, knowing better than to bother someone who was doing their job protecting Ophelia just because he was curious.

  Well, it seemed like his curiosity would finally be satisfied.

  His mother was still staring with a shocked expression, while Bart had jumped up and looked ready to make a run for it, if it weren’t for Seothyn’s hand, which clamped onto his shoulder like a vice.

  Knowing the truth of the man’s actual level, Orion imagined that it was almost a guarantee there would be no escape.

  “Bartholomew Tassaliki, is that you?” Asteria asked again, this time with more certainty.

  Bart stiffened even more, but eventually slumped. “Yes. Yes, it’s me.”

  Orion tried to pick up on clues about his mother’s relationship with Bart, but all he could tell was that she was genuinely surprised. Admittedly, he wasn’t great at emotional intelligence, but looking around, he saw the same confusion reflected in everyone else.

  “You were here all this time and never even tried to find me?” Asteria asked, her tone taking on a hint of warning.

  Bart clenched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable, but soldiered on. “What did you want me to do after everything that happened? Moon Mother, I should have known better than to accept this damn job. I should have left when I heard the name Voidwalker!”

  Eyes narrowing, Asteria took a few steps toward him, and he began to step back, only to be stopped by Seothyn’s hand, which didn’t budge at all.

  He glared at his companion, but got only a slight smile in return. “It seems like you’ve got some unresolved issues with the mother of our charge’s best friend. Better get them sorted out before they become a real problem for all of us.”

  Surprisingly, Bart didn’t back down right away and kept his eyes locked with the elf, but after a few moments and the creak of what Orion was sure were his shoulder bones suffering under the increased pressure, he gave in.

  “It is precisely because of how things ended that you should have come to find me. The last time I saw you, I was being carried away by men who wanted to sell me into slavery, and you were bleeding out on the ground. When I went back to Riverside to look for you after escaping them, you had completely vanished, and the local temple told me you had left the Sanctum for good!” Asteria growled, pushing a finger into Bart’s chest.

  Suddenly, everything started making sense again. Orion had known that his mother had spent some time wandering in her youth, trying to live the life of an adventurer, and that she had a tough time, being forced to run from bandits determined to capture a rare potion mistress, and eventually ending up paired with Antares, which led to his birth.

  She’d never spoken about the details, like who she’d traveled with before meeting his father, or what she’d been through, but it was clear that Bart wasn’t just a casual acquaintance.

  “What did you want me to do? I had to wait in a pool of my own blood for them to take you away before I could heal myself, or I would have been killed outright! How could I have shown my face again after that?” Bart replied with just as much intensity.

  His face then darkened as old pain that had never truly healed resurfaced. “When I went to the temple to ask for their help, they barely looked at me. They were too concerned with appearing weak and with an Elder coming down on them for letting her apprentice be kidnapped. They told me I should have let myself be killed to give you a chance to escape, that my life was worth much less than yours!”

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  Orion could see his mother falter at that. She clearly wanted to deny his words, to say that no witch of the Lunar Sanctum, whether part of the coven or guarding one of the temples scattered across the province, would have been so callous, but that wasn’t the truth.

  Generally, witches were very self-centered individuals; they only maintained social connections due to the norms and traditions imposed on them by the Sanctum’s system.

  When it came to men, they showed little compassion, especially for those who, in their view, had sinned. Orion knew that very well.

  “You could have tried to contact me. To tell me you were still alive,” Asteria whispered, exhausted but refusing to yield completely.

  “I should have,” Bart said, nodding. He looked drained from his intense emotions and mostly just exhausted. “But I was a coward. As time passed, I built a new life for myself. I spent years trying to shake off the shame of seeing you taken and being unable to help, so when we took a job in Valderun and it turned out to be tied to your son… All I could do was ignore him and not run away again.”

  Everyone fell silent, processing what had just occurred. Orion saw servants wiping away tears at the thought of what Asteria and Bart had endured, while the members of the Basilisk Fang stared at their companion in realization.

  It seemed that the Sanctum had been a sore subject for him, and hearing the story behind it finally clarified things.

  A butler cleared his throat, clearly uneasy about interrupting the conversation, but still determined to carry out his duty. “I apologize, but Minister Ames has asked me to summon the young lady and Mister Voidwalker to start their lessons. If you'll follow me?”

  Orion was about to refuse, but Asteria gave him a push, “Don’t worry, good man. My son will follow you quickly.”

  Looking for support, Orion found only mild amusement staring back, so he slumped in defeat and trudged away.

  He’d get all the details later anyway.

  “Today, we're going to switch things up and talk about current events.”

  Orion was still pouting about being sent away like a child who shouldn’t be involved in family drama, but the Minister’s words were enough to make him perk up again.

  This was why he agreed to participate in these lessons and why he still showed up, even when a very interesting conversation was no doubt taking place in the gardens.

  At least Ophelia promised me the servants would tell us what they heard.

  “As you might know, the current political situation is tense and very unique. Cyril, despite its problems, is usually good at keeping its internal strife separate. Just look at the conflict in the south. It has been ongoing for nearly ten years now, and there hasn't been a single victim outside the designated battlefields. The economy is definitely suffering, but beyond slower trade and less variety, most citizens haven't yet felt the full impact," Ames said.

  Orion’s head snapped up at that. “That’s not true.”

  It wasn't until Ophelia turned to him with a surprised expression that he realized he’d spoken aloud. Still, he pressed on. “I've seen thousands of refugees fleeing from the south firsthand. They may not have been directly involved in the fighting, but many citizens are suffering."

  The old man regarded him silently for a moment before bowing his head. “You are correct. I apologize. In my line of work, people often become numbers, and the absence of casualties and deaths has made it easy to overlook the suffering that is happening. It was wrong of me to say that no one was struggling.”

  Surprised, Orion nearly told him not to worry. He was definitely the last one who could claim to be more humane than anyone else. But he stopped himself, remembering the tired faces of the refugees outside Silverpeak.

  They might not have been starving or injured, but it was clear they were suffering after having to abandon their lives. The mere fact that bandits and even vampires had started to settle in their midst also highlighted how much danger they still faced, even just outside the front door of the center of power of a major faction.

  “As Orion rightly pointed out, even the war in the south is spilling out of its usual boundaries. That only adds to the overall sense of unease, which reached its peak with the announcement of the Speaker’s retirement.”

  Ophelia shifted, clearly uneasy. While it would be an overstatement to say she had a part in what happened, she wasn’t entirely disconnected from it either.

  “Now, Mallon has been the High Council’s Speaker since its inception in its modern form. He guided the Magocracy through numerous small crises, steering us away from potential disasters multiple times. He is, to put it simply, a key pillar holding Cyril’s stability, and his influence gave significant legitimacy to the High Council.” Ames continued, and Orion started to see where this lesson was going.

  Every time he came here, he left with a specific nugget of information that explained more about how the world worked. That was why he so appreciated these lessons, despite the time they took away from his research.

  Of course, learning the actual, unbiased history was valuable on its own, but the insight a man like Ames had into this kind of political maneuvering was second to none.

  “This is something that everyone knows, and though not publicly acknowledged, his role as Speaker has reduced many of the tensions that could have otherwise arisen between the more aggressive factions and the Arcane Collegium, which still considers itself the greatest and most powerful. Just rumors of Mallon’s retirement were enough for the dragonlords to start testing the waters, and I have no doubt that other factions will do the same now. The Collegium’s Archmages understand this well, which makes them likely to choose someone capable of stepping into Mallon’s shoes without causing too much disruption.”

  Orion raised an eyebrow. That seemed perfectly logical, but there was one major issue. “Is there even someone like that? I know there are a lot of Archmages, and to become one, they have to be tier four, but I doubt that would be enough.”

  That would be the equivalent of a Veil Priestess, which, while still far above his own power, was not enough to support a major faction, let alone the Arcane Collegium, which prided itself on being the greatest.

  Ames nodded, “Indeed. The Collegium has the highest number of tier four mages, as far as it’s publicly known, but that is not enough to step into Mallon’s role. No, they need a tier five mage, and those do not grow on trees.”

  A realization was creeping up on him, but Orion dismissed it before it could fully form. There was no way that could happen.

  “It has to be Archmage Antares, right?” Ophelia asked, unknowingly echoing his thoughts.

  Ames paused briefly, his eyes locking with Orion’s. “He would be the natural choice, yes. As an extremely accomplished, if mysterious, mage, he commands the respect of most factions and certainly has the power to be respected even in these troubled times.”

  No way. Nu-uh. No. It’s enough that my blood father is an Archmage. If he becomes the most powerful man in Cyril… I don’t even want to think about it.

  “However, I have it on good authority that he was offered the nomination by Mallon himself and declined it. That’s why the Senate will be convening.”