As they waited outside the enormous wharf to be given permission to dock, Orion spent some time trying to persuade his mother to come up with at least a rough plan.

  So far, they had gotten away with winging it because her sheer power let them brute force their way through any problem, but the obstacles they were about to face wouldn’t be that easy to handle.

  “The Sanctum has a mansion in the inner district of the capital. Each faction has one, assigned to their representative to the High Council. That’s where we’ll go once we hand off Ophelia to her grandfather at the Ministerial Chambers,” she said, seemingly unfazed by the many problems he could see.

  “But what if the same people who attacked us are waiting to ambush us on the way to the chambers? They clearly already know what we are trying to do,” he pressed. If Unda hadn’t found them, he would have been fine winging it, but he felt he was allowed a little paranoia after what happened.

  Ophelia snorted, shaking her head. “No one will attack us in Valderun.”

  “What? Why wouldn’t that be possible? It’s when one lowers their guard that the enemy will strike,” he shot back.

  The two women exchanged a glance, and Asteria sighed. “Orion, nothing will happen. Any kind of violence is forbidden within Valderun, enforced by centuries-old charms that every Archmage empowers and continues to add to. It is literally impossible for anyone to act with the intent to physically harm another.”

  Orion rocked back, turning toward the grand city ahead. Is that even possible? The level of mental interference such a spell would need… But then again, I suppose they had to find a way to stop the factions from staging attacks upon each other’s representatives.

  He still hadn't turned on [Verification Principle], so he didn’t know what kind of magic was woven over the city. He was tempted to, but the headache still throbbing at the back of his skull warned him not to.

  According to his mother, mana burn was easily recoverable with a couple of days’ rest, but it could worsen significantly if he pushed himself.

  Partly, that explained why he was so paranoid. He wouldn’t be able to do much in the next forty or so hours, and they were on the final stretch of their journey, possibly the most dangerous part.

  Still, it was clear that neither his mother nor Ophelia shared his concern. To them, they had done it. They were safe.

  That didn’t mean there wouldn't be trouble, or that they expected everything to go smoothly from now on, but they seemed to fully trust the magic woven above Valderun to keep them safe from violent attacks.

  A loud horn blared, and the sailors scrambled to steer the ship toward the now open area where they could unload their cargo.

  The city of Valderun was enormous, with a population exceeding one million residents. To sustain itself, it received food and other supplies from all over Cyril, mainly through the Belt waterway that cut through the magocracy.

  If they had been a simple cargo ship or a passenger transport, they would have been allowed to dock at one of the many secondary wharves. However, considering the value of their cargo, the captain had decided to request access to one of the main spaces, where they could quickly hand off the Snow Flower to an auction house.

  Representatives of these establishments apparently flooded the harbor as soon as the first snow began melting, so they’d have their pick of the litter.

  As they moved toward the shadow of the walls, Orion had to reevaluate his initial assessment. While white and blue were their colors, it didn’t come from a specific type of stone being used, but from layers upon layers of spells cast on the structure until they were thick enough to reflect light like shimmering scales.

  That he could see this magic with his naked eye, without needing to rely on traits or artifacts, was enough to convince him that maybe there was truth to the confidence with which the others spoke of safety inside.

  Even the Sanctum, with its centuries-old wards, couldn’t boast such formidable defenses. The more they drew nearer, the more Orion sensed a buzzing in the air, similar to the feeling before a thunderstorm.

  It was electrifying, and he knew instinctively that if he tried to cast now, mana would come in abundance, responding to his call like an eager puppy.

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  I’ve been too distracted to think about it until now, but there's a clear difference between the Mana Field inside the Sanctum and here. In the countryside, I didn’t notice any particular mana overwhelming the others, but now it’s undeniable.

  Orion wasn't sure what element he was experiencing. He was tempted to say it was electricity, but that didn’t feel right.

  Unfortunately, to find out, he would have to strain his soul, and so with a sigh of disappointment, he wrenched his attention away. There will be time. I doubt Elder Yue will see us immediately, and even if she does, Mom told me we’ll be staying for a few more days. The Blessed Lady has to receive the profits of their catch, and we’re supposed to go back with them.

  When the sailors finally dropped the anchors and the ship was fully stabilized in the designated waters, a flicker of something swept through the air, causing Orion to gasp at the sensation of being watched and judged.

  “It’s just the anti-smuggling charms. They are usually more subtle than this, but it seems like they have increased the sensitivity,” Asteria explained, noticing his reaction.

  Ophelia clenched and unclenched her fists, watching the solid ground where a dozen people were already gathering, with more arriving.

  It seemed like their arrival hadn't gone unnoticed.

  “They made us wait an entire hour while the dock master sold the information to every auction house. Damn him, I hope his teeth rot again,” Aconite grumbled, stomping down the dock toward the gangplank being lowered by his men.

  “Portos! You old dog! Have you scared death away with that ugly mug?!” He roared, and a particularly fat man pushed his way out of the growing crowd and shook a fist at him.

  “Aconite! I see your wife still hasn’t decided to rid us of your blight! And now this! I hope you haven’t messed up your one chance to sell the first flower, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your brief, ugly life!”

  Despite the torrent of insults hurled at each other, a friendly atmosphere prevailed during their interaction, and soon, both men were roaring with laughter.

  Aconite walked down the plank, reached over, and slapped the dockmaster’s back, who did the same, turning a jolly, toothy smile in their direction. “Well? Where is the prize?”

  The captain roughly waved his hand, and a team of six burly sailors began to bring down the main body of the Snow Flower held up by a sail, followed by several others hauling down the wrapped organs.

  Dockmaster Portos eyed the procession sharply, then scanned the deck for something. Soon, he settled on Asteria, who was watching the works with a thin smile. “Ah, you had a witch to help you, that makes more sense. I suppose being the first to sell will let you cover her fee, and if the organs are as well preserved as I expect, you’ll make a killing.”

  Aconite grinned, showing off his yellowed teeth, “Only the best from the crew of the Blessed Lady. Now git, I need to have a talk with these men.”

  With a chuckle, the portly man stepped back, instructing the sailors to bring the Snow Flower to a warehouse that was apparently built specifically to store such catches.

  As soon as he was gone, the now numerous crowd fell upon Aconite with rabid frenzy, shouting ridiculous offers and elbowing their way through the competition, trying to be the first to reach him.

  Orion would have worried about the man if he wasn’t grinning widely, seemingly enjoying the attention.

  A tap on his shoulder snapped him back to reality, and he saw that his mother and Ophelia were walking toward the gangplank, ready to disembark.

  “We’ll see you in five days,” the sailor who’d tapped him said, with a strangely respectful look.

  I guess everyone knows what I did. I still need to fully come to terms with it, but to them, it probably doesn’t seem like anything to worry about. Pirates attacked, and I killed them. That’s all.

  Somehow, the simplicity of that thought, so different from the self-criticism and philosophical struggles he had been experiencing, made him feel better.

  With a quick nod, he thanked the man and hurriedly walked away.

  The moment his feet hit solid ground, Orion was struck by a wave of dizziness. Sea legs? No, this has to be magical in origin. The wards, then?

  No one else seemed to suffer half as much as he did, but now that he was paying attention, he could see that everyone winced for half a second upon touching down, though they shrugged it off quickly enough.

  “Let’s go, moonbeam,” Asteria called as she moved away from the wharf, and Orion jogged to catch up with her.

  The Valderun Harbor was a massive structure, stretching several miles since it was built along an entire flank of the city. It also extended about a mile into the hinterland, featuring warehouses and covered docks, where he could see hundreds of men working hard, busy loading and unloading cargo and working on ship construction.

  Although he knew the capital was on the water, Orion hadn’t heard anything about a maritime industry. Valderun was only ever mentioned in connection with the Arcane Collegium and the High Council.

  The large number of people working in the area told him it wasn’t because it lacked economic or strategic value. More likely, it was simply because for the major factions, only one thing was worth being talked about—magic. The amount of high-level casters was everything that truly mattered, and Valderun had the most of them.

  It took them a while to finally leave the docks, but they eventually did, passing through the pedestrian exit with little more than a glance from the guards on watch.

  They were all wearing high-quality armor, probably heavily enchanted, judging by the runes Orion could see all over them.

  The fact that entering the nation's capital was so straightforward, without the need for identification, only enhanced the overall feeling of peace.

  I guess these wards must be really powerful. There is a full-scale war happening in the south, trade routes are under attack, and we just got chased all the way here by assassins. Yet, everyone behaves as if nothing could ever happen here.

  Maybe it was carelessness, but Orion doubted it. These soldiers, though seemingly unfazed by their passage, carried a dangerous air about them. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were much stronger than the average guardsman in Silverpeak.

  If only I could inspect them… The temptation was strong, but Orion held back. He’d have time to explore to his heart’s content once he recovered.

  Once they had passed through the gates, they finally found themselves inside Valderun proper—and what a sight it was.

  The streets were wide, clean, and lively, with dense crowds filling every space, as people haggled, shouted for attention, or peddled their wares.

  As expected, a market district stretched a good distance from the docks into the city, though if Silverpeak’s was notable for its variety of people and merchandise, Valderun’s dwarfed it by an order of magnitude.

  Spells were cast by teenagers, showing off to their peers. Performers summoned elements and transformed into animals at the drop of a hat, and even merchants were involved, displaying enchanted items and demonstrating their powers, or selling monster ingredients, shouting about potions and elixirs that could be brewed from them.

  Magic was everywhere around him as he entered the capital of the Magocracy.

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