Fergis waved as Cane approached the admin building. "You're like half an hour late…"
He leaned against the pillar in that way he did best—looking like awkward was his natural state of being.
"I lost track of time designing Clara's focal," Cane said with a shrug. "I think the team'll be ready by the end of the month."
"Perfect. Just in time, we can skip the practicals—if we qualify for a Class C mission." Fergis pulled the door open and gestured him inside.
"A C mission? That doesn't sound too bad."
A short, thin man greeted them from behind the counter. He had neatly parted black hair, manicured nails, and a fixed smile that looked like it had been practiced for hours in a mirror.
"Hello, cadets. How may I help you?"
Fergis stepped forward. "We're looking to request a team mission."
"Until your team has acquired a minimum of one hundred mission points," the clerk said, "available assignments are based on team size, Academy year, and occupation breakdown."
Cane glanced sideways at Fergis. "How many points do you have?"
"None," Fergis replied, staring at the ceiling like it had wronged him.
"Didn't you say you've done missions before?"
"Two," Fergis admitted. "Five points for the first… minus five for the second."
"You could've shared that before we got here." Cane folded his arms. "What happened on the second mission?"
"It was a simple escort," Fergis said, tapping the counter. "Guard a herd of sheep and two shepherds. Six-hour limit. Wolves in the area."
"And you lost a sheep?"
"All of them."
Cane blinked. "Couldn't kill the wolves?"
"Oh, I killed them," Fergis said proudly. "Wiped out the entire pack."
"But you failed?"
"The flames spooked the sheep. They stampeded into a river and got swept downstream."
"They drowned?"
"No," Fergis said quickly. "But by the time I rounded them up, the timer had expired. So… mission failed."
Cane let out a low snort. "So you're starting at zero with the rest of us."
Fergis shook his head. "No way. I'm a mission veteran. You three are the noobs."
Behind the counter, the clerk tapped his flawless nails on the surface. "Number of cadets on your team?"
"Four," Cane replied.
"Role breakdown?"
"Healer, melee, ranged DPS/fire, and crowd control."
The man began scanning the mission list. "And what year are the cadets?"
"Does that matter?" Cane asked.
"No," the man said flatly. "Sometimes I just enjoy the sound of my own voice."
Fergis chuckled. Cane tilted his head, only mildly irritated. "We're all first years."
"Do you have a psi rune for communication?"
"We do."
After a few more taps, the clerk nodded. "One 'C'-ranked mission available. It begins in ten days. You have two weeks to complete it."
Mission Type: Team Escort
Description: Escort a gold shipment from the Sarona Mine to the Capital
Duration: 2 weeks
Rank: C
Reward: 20 points and 2 platinum
Penalty for Failure: -20 points
"We'll take it," Cane said. "Is the reward per person or split?"
"Split four ways," the clerk replied, locking the mission into the system. "Two days before your start date, report back here for maps, contacts, and relevant details."
"Anything else?" Cane asked.
"One final note," the clerk said without looking up. "You have 24 hours to cancel the mission. If you don't show up and haven't canceled, you'll receive the same penalty as failure."
"Duly noted," Cane said, already imagining the look on Clara's face when he told her they were going on a mission.
Wolves and Wounds
"Heading to see Lorna and Dagan, if you want to come along," Cane offered.
"Sophie's parents?" Fergis nodded. "Let's stop by the stables first—I need to pick up Moxie."
The stablemaster, Odom, also oversaw the Academy kennels—though that part of his job hadn't seen use since before he was hired. None of the current students kept bonded beasts.
"Great…" Cane muttered.
Odom had always viewed him as some sort of romantic rival for Sophie's affection—despite the fact that they'd barely exchanged three words.
When they entered the stables, Odom gave Cane a sharp look, then sighed like a man who'd just accepted lifelong exile.
"You've done it," he said mournfully. "Stolen Sophie from me. And now she's run away."
Fergis blinked between the two. He'd expected yelling, maybe even a thrown pitchfork—not this weird calm. "I'm just here to pick up Moxie."
Moxie was one of the two shadow wolf pups they'd rescued during the beast incursion weeks ago. Fergis's pup lived here at the Academy; Cane had given the other to Sophie's family. Tazi lived in a pen behind the tailor shop.
Odom pointed toward a stall that had been recently repurposed for a growing predator pup. "Just fed her."
"Great…" Fergis ducked inside the stall, leaving Cane alone with the brooding stablemaster.
"You done me wrong," Odom muttered.
Cane didn't bother denying it. Instead, he placed a hand on Odom's shoulder and said solemnly, "Indeed. I'll have to make it up to you."
Odom squinted. "Huh?"
"I travel a lot," Cane said with a nod. "When I meet someone more suited to you, I'll make the introduction."
Odom's face lit up like someone had flipped a switch—skipping every emotion in between. "A'right then!"
Fergis emerged, Moxie tucked under one arm. "I'll have her back later."
Odom waved them off cheerfully.
"You make peace with Odom?" Fergis asked as they walked.
Cane chuckled. "Yeah. There's no quarrel there."
They meandered through town, chatting idly while Moxie trailed behind, nose to the cobbles. As they turned down the alley beside the tailor shop, a sharp howl rang out from deeper in the lane.
"Oh crap," Fergis said. "Grab her, Cane."
Moxie had already taken off, her stubby legs a blur as she tore toward the pen where Tazi waited.
Dagan poked his head out of the side door just as Cane opened the latch.
The moment the gate swung wide, the pups were off—nipping, growling, tumbling through the alley like a pair of furry whirlwinds. Yelps of protest echoed every time one bit a little too hard.
"Cane! Fergis!" Dagan grinned, stepping out onto the porch. The boys had helped defend his family during the beast incursion, and with Cane dating Sophie, they felt more like sons than visitors.
"I've got a task that needs a tailor," Cane said, then nodded toward Fergis. "Keep an eye on the pups. I'll take them down to the shore when we're done."
Fergis flopped into the porch chair. "Sure thing."
Dagan led Cane into the back fitting area, where Lorna sat at her sewing table, her hands moving with quiet precision.
"Hey, Lorna." Cane leaned down and kissed her cheek, drawing a wide smile from the older woman.
"Back for another cape?" she teased. "Maybe this time in a bolder color?"
Cane chuckled and laid a rolled parchment on the counter—his blueprint for Clara's focal—along with a series of refined sketches.
Dagan slid his glasses down from his forehead and studied them closely. "Looks like a glove—fingerless, forearm length?"
"Exactly," Cane confirmed. "It's for an artifact, so it needs to be precise. Fit and comfort are both important—something that can be worn for long periods in any climate."
"Silk, then," Dagan said, glancing at his wife.
"As long as it's not for physical labor, silk will be perfect," Lorna agreed. "If it's not for you, we'll need a proper fitting."
"It's for one of my team members. Her name's Clara. I'll have her stop by."
Cane's attention shifted toward the window display, where a mannequin wore a sleek, elegantly tailored dress.
"This new?" he asked, stepping closer. "Reminds me of what I saw in the Capital last season—except this one's actually well-made. Clean lines. None of that frilly nonsense."
Lorna blushed at her station. "Thank you, Cane. It won't sell, of course—not at that price—but Dagan insisted we display it."
"It's as good as anything in those high-end shops," Dagan said proudly.
Cane leaned in to check the tag. "Eight hundred gold?"
He nodded, already reaching into his pouch. "I'll buy it. Lay it out for me."
"You want it?" Lorna blinked. "If you're buying for Sophie… this really isn't her style."
"I know."
As Dagan spread the first dress across the work table, Cane pulled a platinum coin from his pouch and placed it gently on the wood surface.
"I'm going to do something similar to Clara's glove," he explained. "Good practice."
Then, without another word, Cane pressed his hand to the coin—and slipped beneath the metal.
Lorna and Dagan stood in stunned silence. They had heard the stories, of course—what Cane could do, what he had become—but witnessing it was something else entirely.
Under his touch, the platinum spread outward, smooth and controlled, until it flattened and divided into four equal pieces. Cane set three aside and focused on the fourth, working it slowly, precisely, until it unfolded into a square—gossamer thin, nearly translucent.
Lorna gasped. "It's like… silver mist."
Cane nodded, lifting the sheet carefully. Light shimmered across its surface, reflecting in tiny, glinting fragments like starlight caught in silk.
He repeated the process with the other three pieces. Then, he laid the first sheet atop the dress.
"This part gets tricky."
With a slow breath, he submerged again—this time into the platinum itself, threading it into the fabric, stitch by stitch, fold by fold. He moved through every seam and dart, adjusting the flow, reinforcing the shape without losing the grace.
Nearly an hour passed.
When Cane emerged, the dress shimmered under the lantern light, wrapped in a subtle platinum sheen that moved like moonlight across water.
Lorna's voice was barely a whisper. "Cane… it looks like it's made of silver."
"Not done yet," Cane replied with a smile.
He reached into his satchel and drew out Blue—his favored rune tool—then lightly tapped the center of the bodice.
The air dropped several degrees.
A sharp, echoing cry rang out—the hunting call of an Ice Gryphon.
The dress flared into a gleaming, glacial blue.
A gentle pulse of blue light spread through the garment, and for just a breathless moment, the ghostly silhouette of an Ice Gryphon hovered over the table—wings outstretched in silent majesty—before fading into the fabric.
The glow lingered, soft and luminous.
Lorna and Dagan stood frozen in awe.