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The shadows of the alley were deep as Thadus strode through them. His back was straight with righteous indignation despite his mental exhaustion. The further away he left the fiend behind, the angrier he felt.

He had absolutely fallen for some mortal swindler. He had been deceived.

This much he could understand and the offence of being trapped by someone this way angered him above all.

The flame in his palm flickered. The next he knew, he was plunged into darkness.

The wind circled him with glee at having extinguished the flame.

Thadus was not amused.

He was not delighted by this at all.

He conjured another flame, this one more passionate, burning brighter. He increased the speed of his steps, no longer willing to be made into the entertainment of a strange wind sprite he had never met before this day. When the wind tried to do the same thing again, it blazed up with Thadus’ poor mood.

He was not enjoying this.

His steps echoed in the alleyway.

He moved the flame to the other hand and pulled out his sceptre from his sleeve. He poured magic into it until it was as tall as a cane. He transferred the flame over to the top of his sceptre and swung it at the spirit in frustration.

It was harassing him, too. It had been harassing him all day. It had interfered this entire day. It was its fault he got deceived. He was distracted by it constantly overdoing things or acting against his wishes.

How was it possible that he met a demonic mortal and malevolent wind spirit on the same day?!

The wind evaded him, and he swung the sceptre again. The wind simply blew past him.

The more he tried to hit it, the brighter the alley became. The wind evaded every time. It circled him, as if mocking him. It blew large gales back, as well as gentle breezes.

He grit his teeth.

He had been deceived all day! He had been stalked by this spirit since morning! The amercements were this spirit’s fault, but he had to take the blame. Because he was a spellcaster! This foul wind had tarnished his reputation!

He wanted it gone! Eliminated!

He swung his sceptre, channelling more magic into it.

Then his limbs couldn’t move. The wind blew a gale in his face. He still tried to swing the sceptre. The restraints tightened. The flame blazed like a bonfire.

It was no use.

He closed his eyes and inhaled. He exhaled slowly and the flame gradually shrunk and the alley got darker.

“I am… tranquil,” he said after a while. “I am a spellcaster. This is beneath me,” he told himself. “I am better than this.”

He restrained his emotions. He couldn’t be angered right now. It wasn’t safe.

This was why he didn’t use fire. He neither liked it nor felt it particularly useful. Other than burning down a few buildings and acting as a light in the dark, one couldn’t use it for anything else.

His heartbeats slowed; he breathed deliberately. The restraints gently pulled back.

You show me where to go instead. Not this wind spirit.

He felt a squeeze, and he exhaled.

He was… serene. Calm. He adjusted his coat and ensure his hair was in place. He. Was. Immaculate.

Always!

He truly was. The mortal was wrong. Naturally they were. What did they know about spellcasters? Nothing. They understood nothing.

Only then did he open his eyes.

He decided to go to the nearest gate. He intended to leave Rockforge. He ought to return to Eden and the spirits he was familiar with.

There was a pressure against the back of the hand that held the sceptre.

He listened to the suggestion and return it to its usual size while ignoring the wind sprite still trying to get a rise out of him.

Indeed, was this spirit intent on making life difficult for him or merely playing games? It certainly began to look like the former.

As long as he was channelling magic into the flame, he couldn’t let something so minor as a measly breeze offend him. He was better than that. Winds were harassers by nature. He had ignored the wind spirit before. He could continue doing so.

I prefer you.

A few moments later, there was a gentle brush against his cheek. He reached up, letting it brush against his fingers. The sensation was soft.

However, the movement was a little sluggish.

I apologise for disturbing your rest with this inconvenience. You can go to sleep soon again. I appreciate your worry, friend. I have regained my senses.

He felt another squeeze as a response. This feeling was much more comfortable. He appreciated this presence more, truly.

Thadus needed some more minutes to fully restrain his mood until it was fully leashed. He couldn’t allow himself to burn down an entire city in a petulant fit against the wind.

He was guided out of the alleys, flame controlled through his refusal to be mocked any further. The many alleys were a maze that he wished he never had to return to. Not now, not in the future.

But even as he controlled his mood, he couldn’t not feel deceived. He had been led by the nose all day by that devil, and harassed for even longer by the wind. These mortals were incompetent, with perhaps a couple of exceptions, and this city was beneath him to visit. He had entertained them enough.

Why he came to Rockforge that morning was now a rather unclear matter to him. There was never any grand purpose for it. Even calling it curiosity was giving his past self too much grace.

It was a lapse in judgement. That was what it was.

He decided to head for the Western Gate. It was the closest to where he was. Never mind that the Unified Territories weren’t to the west. Getting out of Rockforge was of higher priority than shortening the distance to Eden.

After an unusually exhausting walk and perhaps one or two wrong turns — not because of him! — Thadus finally got out of the maze of alleys.

How could mortals live like that? Those small houses sitting together with no wide roads whatsoever were surely dangerous, were they not? If a family needed so many houses to keep all the necessary accomodations, then they ought to have a mansion built. That would be more cost and space effective.

And yet, the greatest offence wasn’t the endless alleys or the inefficient housing, but that these people could even live in Rockforge.

He was covering his nose with his sleeve, disgusted. He had been able to tell he got closer to the main street solely because the stench was horrendous. That people were walking past him with lanterns was quite unimaginable.

Mayhap they really did thrive in dung.

Mortals were peculiar, their customs unthinkable. He had known this much from this visit, and he would ban any mortals from his estate in Fifteenth Eden. He was fortunate to have never employed a mortal servant. Truly fortunate. He couldn’t imagine how filthy his magnificent home would be if these inadequate rats tried to act caretakers.

He had extinguished his flame before exiting into the street, so he relied on these nightdwellers to find his way and not walk in any filth.

It concerned him slightly that they all were walking in the same direction as he was heading. Was there some demonic ritual taking place by the Western Gate? His tutors had indeed taught him when he was quite young that mortals abhorred spellcasters in the past.

They had used sacrilegious means to harm the high kin. As a result, spellcasters in this part of the world established the United Territories. Mortals had for many years been forbidden to enter the Territories, and only the high kin needing refuge had entered. Eden was said to be one of the original regions, but there were no maps old enough to prove such a thing. 

In the past, Thadus had not quite believed it true. Seeing how these mortals now acted, it was difficult not to believe that spellcasters, magnanimous enough to live at the side of mortals to offer them their services, would have been persecuted.

Monsters, as his tutors called them, indeed.

More nightdwellers entered from the alleys. Some stumbled out, swearing as they stepped in filth first thing as they strode onto the street. Others had lanterns and thus avoided the waste.

Although this was surely a hideous ritual, he was reminded of when those in Fifteenth Eden would gather under the full moon. Lat time, Thadus had been invited to the home of an acquaintance from his time studying at Paradise Tower. Then he, too, had held a lantern, going by foot as many others. The view had been similar to this, although the end would not be the same, and Rockforge was by far filthier and more dreadful to look at.

Many a poem had been shared as they soaked in the moonlight that night.

Thadus alone needed not to share any poetry to show his refinement and merely remained in his seat beneath the eternally flowering apple trees of his acquaintance’s garden. What they had recited he no longer remembered.

He hadn’t listened closely. He had studied the heavens and thought the stars that speckled the sky were vast and wondered how far away they may be and which elemental spirits could be found so far away. Had it not been a night of the full moon, he may have brought it up to begin a discussion, however the full moon was for poetry, not questioning the skies above and sharing ideas of what be beyond the clouds.

He had also told also the apple trees a silent apology on his acquaintance’s behalf. Apple trees needed to bear fruit so they could rest, much like any high kin would need rest too. High kin can only live so long, but some trees can outlive even the most long-lived of spellcasters.

The trees in his garden blossomed in early spring to the end of summer in succession. He could not bear to see them suffer year in and year out just to bloom.

Suddenly, someone bumped into his arm. He came back to his senses. 

He brushed off the dirt from his sleeve before looking around.

At some point, these filthy things had gathered into another stream of flesh, now only with flames involved, too, as they carried their lanterns. The spellcaster sniffed at the reminder of how the daydwellers had forced him in whichever direction they wanted him to walk. They had no sense of order. Neither then nor now.

However, it was bewildering.

There were market stands all along the side of the streets. This was not even the main street of the Northern Market District. The mortals traded and haggled. They bought items or left in a huff. They bought cooked food and drink, they sold fabrics and trinkets.

Were these nightdwellers unable to buy items during the day? Why come out at night when it was dark?

He was confounded by this odd phenomenon in mortal behaviour. He had never been taught mortals traded at night. What for? Were these people ill?

He had only thought this much when someone next to him sneezed.

Thadus felt a squeeze against his wrists, reminding him that he was on his way to leave this forsaken city-state. He could not dwell on why these vermin gathered this way. He considered walking around this stream, but he did not know the way and this road happened to be the brightest under the currently moon- and starless sky.

He braced himself before he began walking through the wall of filthy mortals.

He pushed his way through, unable not to touch these vermin.

He was taller than some of the mortals and could see past the heads moving like waves at a dark lake with spills of moonlight on it. He could see the shore as he got closer.

He was almost past this trial. After this river of filth and fire, he merely needed to change to a different street to reach the gate.

Once outside, he could return to Eden. To his estate. To his garden and the spirits he was so familiar with.

Once he had returned, he would—

His hand acted before his head caught up, and he caught an arm.

Only then did he realise he had felt someone touch his belt. He looked down to see his precious belt ornament had been… severed…

He looked at the wide-eyed youth that held. The other half pressed to their chest. He bristled.

“You th—”

He felt a tremor go through the youth.

“You filthy thing,” he said and grabbed the ornament. “Don’t touch it with your disgusting fingers! Begone, mortal.”

He let go with an indignant huff.

Truly, they were not worthy a single more second of his time. He had to move to the side, standing next to a stall as he removed the remains of his ornament from his belt.

How dare! How dare they try to steal something from a spellcaster! And his belt ornament as well!

The carefully silk-embroidered wool had been cleanly cut through.

He would need to have a new one made, but it would take many days. Naturally, he had more, but few suited his dark red coat. He looked at the garnets that decorated it, as well as the plum blossoms embroidered onto the black wool.

He exhaled and rolled the pieces up and was about to stash them in his coat when his hand touched something else. He pulled out the perfume pouch.

“…”

He considered briefly if he should return it. He was better than some petty thief trying to steal cheap trinkets from him.

He stuffed the pouch away and looked up to find himself next to a skewer stand.

He suddenly remembered the fiend’s parting words.

“…”

Well, he had a reputation to uphold. It would stain his honour and reputation as a spellcaster from Eden if he just took the pouch along with him. He unfortunately had to go back. It was beneath him to act like a mortal, after all.

Unfortunately, he truly had no choice in the matter.

He found himself with three skewers and a small pouch full or copper coins.

That fiend would owe him for this. They would owe him silver for this.

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