Elias bail-post, Midge hush-nook snag, oil-paper crack. Inside? Ten steam-hot white-buns. Bite-nab, eyes-spark blaze. Savory-juice tongue-drip flood.
Meat-stuff core. Devour-bliss mug, small-frame huge-crave, ten-vanish minute-melt.
Dawn-pop, convoy re-roll. Beard-sarge word-keep: Midge "lug-guard" gig, coach-comfy spot yesterday-eave upgrade mega. Weird? No-wipe, full-foot day-grind.
Clue-no, but three-grain bowl? System-stream slow-energy hum.
Day-stack, haul-grind. Five-sun shy, shire-line cross.
Front? Vast-majesty peak-range, ancient-myst breath heavy.
Ancient Tomb Wastes.
Call-out: Wastes-trudge half-moon rough. Strict-code lock. No-burg pit-stop, fort-inn solo-civ sign dust-hell.
Colossal old-growth road-fringe, Wastes-eerie amp. Hour-deep, Elias-coach yell-burst: "Peep! There! Shire-gate mark. Wastes belly now."
Window-crush. Elias sync-jam.
Gorge-end mega-grey bone, canyon-wall near-tall. Side-fuse sit-pose, mega-mitts rim-rest, throne-king traveler-toll wait.
"Giant-grave," awe-whis. "Celestial-servant titan-legends."
Elias impress-flick, quick-shift. Other hopefuls bone-gawk? Coach-side Legend Archers bow-un-sling.
Vig-chill spine-crawl. Danger-den real.
First-inn no-hiccup. Rig mega, key-route traffic-tank. Tonight? Public-bar, convoy-lock solo.
Dismount, hopeful sunset-jaw over jag-peaks. Inn swank: wood-sturdy tree-nest circle ancient-mega.
Convoy boss stern Favian main-hall strut, grey-cloak [Royal Arcane Guild] Agent Kaelus left, white-mane old-archer Master Jiang right.
Dark-skin mil-rig wait-bow. "Commander."
"Spill," Favian snap.
"Three-mile sweep inn-rad. Trouble-zip. Sentry-lock. Perim-repel snake-vermin no-fly."
Lucius duo-advance leap-team. Inn-hop secure pre-main.
"Solid," Favian. Duo-comp tag. "Master Jiang, Agent Kaelus. Gov-prep solid, guard no-slack."
"Archers nine-shift vig," Jiang confirm.
"Guild wood-weave own," Kaelus add. "Rest-lock, Commander."
Night? Hush-pass.
Days dust-maj land-trudge, road-eng miracle. Giant-bone norm: earth-half-bury, side-slump. Hopefuls numb-acclimat.
Deep-peak flat-top, five-shade stand.
Duo Black-White Fiends: Black Cloud Roar, White Orchid. Trio Wastes local beast-cult: Corvus tall-thin hook-nose; bald-muscle white-robe Jiang Shan; stoop-old staff-lean Rat Hag.
Fiends-summon "grand gig," vibe tense-thick.
Yap-mid, eagle cloud-drop bamboo-tube. Corvus snag-crack, ink-peep.
"Convoy roll," grim-pipe. "Noon ambush-spot hit." Overcast-up. "Weather wing-us.
But no-get," Fiends-turn, "why no-pre-strike assemble? Wait mega-tail steel-wall head-butt?"
"Try-lack no," White Orchid venom-spit. "Guild bait-trap aspirants. City-wall hit ban. Plus, ally-win? Damn-suits 'no-reg hopeful' tag! Verify-no."
Corvus snort. "Tail too-thick. Loss-heavy. Turn-back no-late."
"Worry-no, Brother Gao," Black Cloud fake-boom. "Trio-boost? Win-lock."
"Assist-only," Jiang cold-flat. "Kin no-fight dip."
"Course," Black Cloud silk. "Brother Jiang fog-blind? Archer-useless. Thousand-soldier worth.
My three-hundo meat-grind. Post? Bounty even-split promise. Clear-drop," harden-pipe, "weight-no-pull? Queen-rat no-hesit."
Threat-air hang. Trio local sullen-mute. Queen-power big, Guild bigger. Fiends out-land; hit-run cake. Home-this? Convoy-smash? Guild raze-revenge turf-flat.
Why init-no? Fiends Queen-back roll, loaded-Q: Queen-crew or anti?
Queen-crew lock.
The potency of a Reveal Potion depended on its grade.
A Knight Grade Reveal Potion was specialized, only effective against specific types of beasts.
A Mage Grade Reveal Potion, however, was a different matter entirely. It was powerful enough to force the vast majority of beasts to show their true form. And with greater power came a greater price.
A small vial of Mage Grade Reveal Potion could easily fetch ten thousand silver coins on the open market.
Another prize worth a fortune. Was this the benefit of seeking glory in the Royal Trials?
Why? A sudden, sharp pang of frustration struck Elias. To see such wealth dangled before him, knowing he couldn't possibly reach for it... the unfairness of it all was galling.
But he was trapped. It didn't matter if he could solve the riddles or not; he couldn't afford to win. He couldn't risk the officials in attendance taking a special interest in the false "Arthur Blackwood."
If they remembered his face, what would happen in a few years when the real Arthur, his arm healed, arrived for the next Trials?
His one and only rule on this journey was to remain a ghost.
Slayer Fisk had matched Druid Darian's contribution. A prize pool worth twenty thousand silver coins. For these aspirants, it was a staggering sum.
"Excellent!" Lord Lucius declared, beaming. "With our two masters showing such generosity, how can I not contribute? The shire treasury will grant every aspirant here ten silver coins for their expenses in the capital!" In a single sentence, he had committed over three thousand silver coins of public funds.
An official gently nudged Jameson Morrow. The County Prime snapped to attention and led the aspirants in a chorus of gratitude. "Our thanks to the Lord Governor, and to the two masters!"
"Our thanks to the Lord Governor, and to the two masters." the crowd echoed, making sure to thank the governor first, despite the masters' larger contribution.
Lord Lucius waved his hand dismissively and turned to the academy official. "Do we have a space large enough for several hundred men to write?"
"We do, my lord," the official replied eagerly. "The Garden of Cultivation has several large lecture halls."
"Good. Lead the way."
The official quickly cleared a path, inviting the governor's party to proceed. He then hurried to Lord Lucius's side and whispered a few words. The governor nodded. "Let us go prepare the riddles, then."
With permission granted, the official stopped and relayed instructions to an aide. The aide then turned to the crowd of aspirants. "Gentlemen, please wait a moment.
The halls are equipped with tables, chairs, and paper, but providing several hundred sets of ink and brushes on such short notice will be difficult. To save time, we ask that you please return to your rooms and fetch your own writing implements."
"Of course," Jameson Morrow replied, and led the way back to the dormitories.
The other aspirants quickly followed, breaking into a light jog.
Elias, with no other choice, turned to go as well, his mind still reeling from the value of the prize. He had gone only a short distance when he saw a familiar, bull-like figure hurrying ahead of him—Willem Blaze. Elias instinctively reached for his ponytail, found nothing, and dropped his hand.
He watched Willem for a moment, a flicker of an idea in his mind. Then, with a gritted jaw, he made a decision. He broke into a sprint, catching up to the larger man.
"Brother Blaze!" he called out, his voice uncharacteristically warm.
Willem turned, his face a picture of surprise. The aloof, unsociable man was actually initiating a conversation? And with such enthusiasm? It was a miracle. "Brother Blackwood?" he asked, startled. "Is something wrong?"
Elias glanced around, then took Willem's arm, slowing him to a walk. "The ones living in the back have farther to go. There's no need for us to rush."
Willem was even more bewildered. "Brother Blackwood, is there something I can do for you?"
For the first time, Elias offered him a genuine, friendly smile. "A quick question, if I may. What was your rank in the County Selections?"
Willem looked suspicious, but answered honestly. "One hundred and thirty-first. A poor showing, I'm afraid."
"Not at all! An excellent achievement," Elias said, his smile widening. His mind was already calculating. 131st. No hope of passing. This Willem Blaze, if he fails, is unlikely to return for the next Trials. He probably won't cross paths with the real Arthur.
Sensing the odd glint in Elias's eye, Willem asked, "And your rank, Brother Blackwood?"
Elias let out a dramatic sigh. "Also not very good. Past one hundred. One hundred and sixth."
"Twenty-five places ahead of me! You are too modest."
"No, no, we're both in the same boat," Elias said dismissively.
"Truly, I'm not being polite," Willem insisted. "My family was shocked I even passed. It was a fluke. I gambled on the essay topic, and by some miracle, I was right. Pure luck. I have none of your true scholarly talent."
Elias knew of this practice—predicting topics based on an examiner's known preferences. It wasn't cheating, but it wasn't exactly fair either. It took connections. So Willem's family had some influence.
Interesting, but not important right now. "Your humility is admirable," Elias said, quickly cutting off any further self-deprecation. "Brother Blaze, with our ranks, our chances in the capital are slim. If you don't pass this year, will you try again?"
Willem laughed heartily. "Absolutely not! I can't count on being that lucky twice. My family insisted I come, just to see it through. If I fail, I'll return home and seek a local post, as is proper. To be honest," he lowered his voice, "I never wanted to be an official anyway. I'd rather ride the open road, a knight-errant dispensing justice! Ha! A foolish dream, I know."
Elias believed him. The man's calloused hands and love for his greatsword were no act. But what mattered was the confirmation: Willem wouldn't be back. The risk of him meeting the real Arthur was minimal.
He was safe.
The carefully constructed wall of detachment he had built around himself began to crumble. That prize money... it was a siren's call. His heart, long suppressed, began to stir.
He knew it was a risk. The best plan was to leave no impression on anyone.
But another voice in his head whispered, You are the Master of the Crystal Spire now. It is your duty to provide for it.
With his main concern assuaged, Elias's resolve hardened. He got straight to the point. "Brother Blaze, how do you think they will distribute the prize?"
Willem shrugged. "I have no idea. But the winner is sure to get the largest share."
"My thoughts exactly," Elias said. "Are you planning to compete for it?"
They had turned onto a shaded path between two buildings. Willem stopped, a grin on his face. "Who wouldn't? The prize is one thing, but the chance to impress the Lord Governor is far more valuable."
Elias paused with him, feigning confusion. "More valuable than a fortune? It seems we poor folk have different priorities than you wealthy nobles."
Willem looked at him, surprised. "Are you being serious, or just playing dumb? Why do you think we study so hard, travel so far? For our future! This isn't just a contest; it's an audience with the most powerful man in the shire. Slayer Fisk himself said it's a test of our quick wits.
To win... that would be a story told for years. Even if I fail the Royal Trials, I could return to any official in this shire and say, 'I am the one the Lord Governor himself chose as the cleverest.' Do you know what kind of doors that would open? It's worth more than any amount of gold."
Elias understood immediately. He had been naive. This Willem, for all his simple appearance, understood the game of politics perfectly well. But the man's honesty was refreshing. Elias decided to be direct as well.
"And do you think you can win, Brother Blaze?"