Knights and Magic

The caravan rolled steadily toward the walls of Hoshin Bay, which were not towering, but formidable nonetheless.

As they moved, Zephyr watched on, eyes wide with wonder. The stream of travelers bustling toward the gates seemed endless—merchants with wares in wagons, farmers returning from nearby markets, and guards checking every cart and rider meticulously. The noise of wheels grinding against cobbled roads mixed with the low hum of voices and the occasional bark from a gatekeeper.

The merchant from their caravan flashed a worn merchant's badge, a small piece of metal with etched symbols that gleamed faintly in the afternoon light. The guard looked at the merchant leader, recognizing his face, then gave a cursory nod, waving them through without asking for payment.

As they passed under the gate's shadow and emerged into the city, Zephyr was struck by the sudden rush of life. Hoshin Bay was alive—cluttered streets sprawled in every direction, filled with carts of bright fabrics, the scent of spiced meats curling through the air, and the constant thrum of conversation. Each step forward brought a new experience: laughter from a group of children weaving between stalls, the clang of a blacksmith's hammer, the sharp call of a fruit vendor.

"Take it all in," Cedric said with a grin, watching Zephyr's wide-eyed wonder. "First time seeing a real city, huh?"

Zephyr barely nodded, too absorbed in the sheer volume of life unfolding around him. His gaze caught on groups of armored figures moving through the crowd, a pattern on some of their chestplates catching his eye. He had spotted the same badge on Knight Captain Gage.

"Those badges," Zephyr murmured, nudging Cedric. "They're from the mercenary guild, right? Official parties?"

Cedric followed his gaze and nodded. "Yeah. Means they're legit—recognized by the guild. Serious folk, not the kind you'd want to cross."

Their caravan wove through the crowd along the main road until they reached their destination, a modest trade house near the city's heart. After a short wait, the merchants paid them for their escort. Zephyr watched as the guards accepted their payment with a satisfaction that only coin could bring.

Captain Gage dismissed the group to go do whatever they wanted, heading into the building to meet with the merchant owner. Cedric clapped Zephyr on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up. Mother knows we all stink, but—" he sniffed theatrically, "you, my friend, you reek."

Zephyr chuckled, lifting an arm to sniff himself and immediately regretting it. As they walked, the memory of where he clawed his way out of surfaced. The contrast to now, surrounded by life, made him pause with a wistful smile.

They eventually reached The Anchor's Lodge, a sprawling structure nestled against the southeastern wall. Zephyr stared at the building's broad frame and the chatter spilling out from open windows.

"This is a lodge?" Zephyr asked.

"More like a madhouse most days," Cedric muttered, pushing open the door.

As they stepped inside, the noise hit like a wave. The ground hall was alive with mercenaries eating, drinking, and swapping stories—voices loud, laughter louder, with the heavy smell of ale and sweat hanging thick in the air.

Cedric walked up to the counter and exchanged words with a sharp-eyed woman behind the desk, and secured a key. "Thanks Rina" he said before leading Zephyr up a narrow staircase.

The room was modest but clean—a bed, a small table, and a window that let in the scent of the sea. "Looks like you're bunking with me for a while," Cedric said, tossing the key on the table. "We could make a makeshift bed with some blankets for you here." He pointed to a space beside the bed.

Zephyr hesitated. "I don't want to be a burden—"

"Relax, Gage didn't say anything against it which means I'll take responsibility for you since I suggested it." Cedric's expression turned serious. His eyes staring straight at Zephyr."Don't make me regret it."

Zephyr nodded solemnly, as a small silence passed between them.

The tension broke as Cedric laughed, clapping Zephyr's back hard enough to jostle him. "Come on, let's hit the bath before the smell drives me mad."

The Lodge's bathhouse was surprisingly refined—steam curled through the air, and the soft sound of water splashing echoed off polished stone. Privacy screens divided sections, and Zephyr's eyes caught on a strange device mounted to the wall—runes glowed faintly, releasing streams of water from above like a makeshift shower.

As Zephyr stripped down, he caught sight of himself in a polished bronze mirror. Black hair, black eyes—good looking, but not head turning. He stared. It wasn't his old face. The reality settled in, heavy and undeniable. This wasn't his old life. He was now someone... or something else.

The warm water washed away more than dirt—it cleared the fog of survival and gave space for something—clarity, perhaps. Or maybe just the first real breath he'd taken in days.

Afterward, Cedric tossed him a fresh set of clothes. "Get those rags to the washers and let's go eat. You'll feel like a new man after a good meal."

They returned to the main hall, plates of steaming food between them, Zephyr found himself lost in thought. "I need a job," he finally said. "I can't keep relying on everyone else. I need to earn my keep—pay you and Gage back."

Cedric leaned back nodding his head while chewing thoughtfully. "You could find work at the docks or doing odd jobs around the city. But that's just surviving. If you want more—if you want to save, grow—you'll need to think bigger."

"Like what?"

"Become a knight, then join a mercenary party."

Zephyr blinked. "I can be a knight?"

"Anyone can, technically. Most mages, especially from noble clans start with a knight's foundation anyway."

Cedric explained further—how elemental affinity shaped a mage's potential. Those without clear affinities often took the knight's path instead, focusing on enhancing the body with mana until they could wield Aura at higher tiers.

"What about becoming a mage?" Zephyr asked, curiosity biting at him.

Cedric's face scrunched up slightly. "That's… tricky. The noble clans here—six main ones, with the ruling clan at the top—they've got complete magic pathways up to Tier 5. You'd have to catch their eye and get allied with a clan. That's your best shot at a real future in magic. That's what most mercs here are trying to do—He nodded towards the mercenaries scattered around the hall—"Make a name for yourself, get noticed, get recruited."

"And there's no other way?"

"Well... you might find a Tier 1 or 2 magic manual on the streets, but they're risky—sloppy work from wannabe geniuses. Dangerous. There are rumors of Tier 3 manuals on the black market, but they're probably defective, or just outright lies."

The weight of it all settled in Zephyr's gut. If he wanted real power, if he wanted to learn magic properly… he might have to ally himself with a noble house.

The conversation fell into silence as they ate. But the quiet didn't last long.

Across the room, raised voices broke the calm. Chairs scraped, and tension thickened like a drawn blade. Some newcomer was causing a ruckus with another party.

Cedric's jaw tightened as he turned and spotted blond hair above the crowd in that direction. "Damn it. Johan again. Can't that bastard stay out of trouble for one day?"

Zephyr followed his gaze to a tall, striking young man with tousled blond hair—Johan. His features were sharp, his smile lazy and confident, carrying the effortless charm of someone used to getting their way.

Cedric turned in his seat to watch the full show. With amusement in his eyes, he watched as Johan danced around his opponent—an older, broader mercenary from another party. His movements were fluid, almost playful, every dodge and weave drawing cheers from the watching crowd. He winked at a woman in the audience mid-fight, flashing an infuriating, effortless grin.

But in his distraction, Johan didn't see the punch coming. It landed square on his jaw—a sharp, brutal hit that sent him crashing to the floor.

The hall erupted into laughter—raucous and utterly merciless.

Johan lay there, dazed, eyes blinking rapidly as the victor swaggered back to his group with a proud smirk.

Cedric stood over Johan, shaking his head with mock pity. "You know, for someone who talks about strategy so much, you've got a real talent for getting your ass handed to you."

Johan groaned, reaching up as Cedric stretched out a hand. "You're hilarious, really," he muttered, gripping Cedric's arm and pulling himself up.

Cedric's grin widened. "You're welcome."