Siegmun sat through the rest of breakfast, his appetite gone. He couldn't even bring himself to look at his uncle, afraid that doing so might provoke yet another cruel demand.
He had always known Talien to be domineering and cold, but this level of cruelty had caught him off guard.
'Finish your meal,' Talien muttered, his voice a cold hiss. 'You've work to do.'
Just then, the main hall's doors creaked open, and in walked Riniock, brimming with energy, his enthusiasm seemingly renewed.
'Speak of the monster,' Talien sneered. 'Hurry up and join him.'
Siegmun hesitantly glanced up, watching as Riniock made his way to the table where the Gorleans were gathered. He looked to be in high spirits, grabbing whatever food he could before calling Niann outside.
Siegmun cast one last look at his uncle before pushing himself up from his seat and following after them.
Once outside, he called out.
'Riniock! Niann!' He waved, his tone and gesture uncharacteristically eager, almost forced.
Niann's expression darkened the moment he spotted his cousin approaching. His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw tightened, and fists subtly clenching at his sides.
'Where are you two headed?' Siegmun asked.
'The academy's bibliotheca,' Riniock answered. 'Wanna tag along?'
Niann frowned, and Siegmun – now painfully aware of the task he had been given – couldn't help but notice the sharp glare and hostility directed his way.
'I'll pass,' he replied, deciding it was best to avoid Riniock whilst Niann was present.
'Suit yourself,' Riniock said, already turning back towards their destination.
Siegmun forced a casual wave as they walked away, exhaling shakily once they were at a safe distance.
He hadn't expected spying for his uncle to feel this difficult. After everything Talien had told him, he found himself just as hesitant to provoke Riniock as he was his own uncle.
Both were merciless in their own ways.
But in the end, Talien's power – and his threats – held the greater weight.
Deep within Ikshar's vast repository of knowledge, Riniock and Niann quickly realised they were far from welcome. The bibliotheca, housed in the tallest tower on the academy's rightmost wing, loomed over them like a sentinel guarding its secrets.
At the entrance, a pair of guards met them with cold, unyielding glares, making it abundantly clear that their presence was unwelcome.
Yet, by the terms of the expedition, they had the right to be here.
'You are permitted entry,' one of the guards stated, his tone edged with warning. 'But you may take nothing with you. What you manage to read inside is all you leave with.'
'That's fine,' Riniock replied with a smirk, the mockery in his voice unmistakable.
The guard narrowed his eyes. 'If I catch you causing trouble, you'll answer to me personally.'
Riniock brushed past him without hesitation.
'That won't be necessary,' he said smoothly. 'We are not animals – we know how to conduct ourselves in a place of learning.'
'For your sake, I hope so.'
Inside, the pair quickly became aware of how inferior this so-called bibliotheca was compared to their own grand library. The lack of proper classification left books scattered haphazardly, abandoned wherever the last reader had carelessly placed them.
'I miss the magickal lectern,' Niann muttered in frustration, forced to comb through endless shelves just to find a book worth reading.
'This reminds me of my study back home,' Riniock remarked, his tone indifferent. 'No real difference – a real challenge.'
They split up, each pursuing their own areas of interest. Yet, with the disarray, even locating a worthwhile book proved more time-consuming than expected.
Niann eventually settled against a bookcase, reclining on the floor with his nose buried in a dense tome. Meanwhile, Riniock wandered the aisles, fingers trailing along the spines as he skimmed through titles on the go.
What Riniock sought was a spellbook to refine his martial magick – something practical, something powerful.
'Should've guessed – fire and flames everywhere…Blasted pyromaniacs!'
Tomes on fire-attributed spells flooded the shelves in overwhelming abundance, quickly growing tedious to sift through.
'Oh?' He crouched by the lowest shelf of a dusty bookcase. 'Now this is interesting…'
Amidst the endless inferno-themed spell tomes, a handful of old, worn books stood out. Unlike the others, they looked untouched, as if they had been left to gather dust for decades. More importantly, they didn't appear to be part of the academy's official collection.
These tomes contained spells and techniques spanning multiple elements – ones impossible for any Ikshari to practice. So why were they here, of all places?
Riniock scanned their titles and the names of their authors or previous owners. None rang a bell. Nobodies, most likely. But that still didn't explain why these books had been stashed in the depths of the Ikshari bibliotheca.
As he flipped through them, a low chuckle sounded behind him.
Leaning casually against the wall, Irgod watched him with an amused smirk.
'Figured I'd find you here – reading our spoils, no less. Trash digging through other trash's leftovers.'
'Spoils?' Riniock echoed, narrowing his eyes.
'Those tomes you're so engrossed in? They're relics my academy's seniors took after defeating maegis across the world.'
'So they weren't written or owned by anyone from the academy…?'
Irgod chuckled again. 'You weren't listening. Every one of those books is inferior to our own. But by all means, don't let me stop you from wasting your time.'
With that, he turned and strode off, vanishing into another section of the bibliotheca.
'Psh…show-off.'
Despite Irgod's condescension, Riniock's resolve remained unshaken. If anything, his curiosity burned even brighter.
A hunch – almost a premonition – told him he would find a technique suited to him. It was an instinct, a certainty he couldn't quite explain, but one he felt good about.
Sure enough, after sifting through most of the tomes, a leather-bound manual caught his eye.
'Mixing the Tempest' the title was scrawled in faded ink across the front cover. No name accompanied the work, either because the author had chosen to remain anonymous or because time had long since erased their identity.
The moment he flipped to the first page, he knew he had stumbled upon something extraordinary.
To Murat with what Irgod had said – just because its original owner had fallen at the hands of an Ikshari didn't mean the technique itself was worthless.
'This text proposes that frost-attributed spells can be created by transmuting wind-attributed spells. Rather than learning an entirely new odh circulation method to accommodate the frost attribute, one can manipulate the wind particles as they form within the conduits, converting them into frost just as they leave the maegi's body.'
At first glance, it seemed ludicrous.
Nevertheless, the deeper he read, the more immersed he became in its logic. The calculations, the flow diagrams, the theory – it all made an uncanny amount of sense.
By the time he reached the practical applications, his mind was made up.
'I've never heard of such a thing…to generate one element from another. How many people even know this is possible?'
A grin stretched across his face as the possibilities unfolded in his mind.
If my opponents believe my primary attribute is wind, and I suddenly wield frost derived from it…they won't know what hit them. That confusion alone could grant me the upper hand.
Riniock tore through the text at a frenzied pace, determined to absorb every last detail before they were forced to leave.
He didn't even need to take notes – his eidetic memory ensured that whatever he read remained etched in his mind, as vivid as if the pages were still open before him. He devoured, gorged the words like a starving man at a banquet, his eyes darting hungrily from line to line, his fingers flipping through the pages with reckless urgency.
'Riniock?'
Niann's voice cut through the silence as he searched for his companion.
'I'm here! Over here!' Riniock called back, a manic edge to his voice.
Circling a bookcase, Niann found him sitting in a mess of scattered tomes and loose parchment, his entire demeanour resembling that of an addict who had just overdosed on forbidden knowledge.
Niann hesitated. Was he really about to involve himself in…whatever this was?
'Our time's almost up,' he reminded him, hoping Riniock would take the hint and slow down.
'It is?' Riniock snapped his head up. 'Well, no matter. I've already gone through this three times – memorised it on the first, comprehended it on the second, and dissected and analysed it on the third.'
'That's…good?' Niann ventured cautiously.
'Now, all that's left is to put it into practice. Gods, I'm pumped. Let's get out of here.'
Niann held his tongue, opting not to address the unsettling intensity in Riniock's gaze as he followed him towards the exit.
Riniock was a different kind of monster – one who could master spells after a single day of study. Even amongst the greatest maegis and prodigies across worlds, such a feat was unheard of.
And yet, only Niann knew this truth. A secret he intended to keep, so long as Riniock had the sense not to reveal it to the wrong people.
At last, Niann allowed himself a small smile and motioned for him to hurry along.
After a thorough search by the irritatingly hostile guards, the two stepped outside.
'Where can I train?' Riniock asked, barely able to contain his excitement. 'Preferably somewhere private.'