After parting ways with his friends outside Zolgen's, Lanen set off to execute a plan he'd been mulling over for days.
Money mattered.
Having it was great; spending it lavishly was even better.
Stomach full and spirits high, he ambled down the sun-dappled street toward his destination—the largest magic supply shop in the district.
Inside, the store was nearly empty. Young Abel lounged in his plush chair, nose buried in a pulp novel. The most striking addition was a display near the entrance: a row of sleek, two-wheeled vehicles.
Gone was the archaic giant front wheel. Instead, a silver chain linked pedals to the rear gear. A vibrant poster depicted a stylized blonde girl riding one, waving a handkerchief in the wind:
"Bowmont Bicycle—A New Way of Life!"
"Revolutionary drivetrain renders old models obsolete!"
"Lightweight front wheel for agile, safe handling!"
"Low-effort pedaling—ideal for women and children!"
"Only 2 gold coins! Unbeatable value! What are you waiting for?"
What am I waiting for? The two gold coins I don't have, Lanen thought wryly.
He tore his gaze away and hunted for his actual shopping list:
Rounded square wooden rods
Hardwood dowels
A bag of wooden balls
Clamps and a hand grinder
Drilling tools
Carving knives
Common school supplies, easy to find. The feast had cost him under six silver; these tools devoured the rest of his wages plus one extra coin.
As Abel painstakingly tallied the bill with vertical arithmetic, Lanen collected his change and hefted the bags.
Outside, he spotted a figure bundled in heavy robes trudging toward the school gates.
The deputy director? No entourage, no carriage. An inspection?
Lanen filed the sighting away.
The Dreaded Class
Magical Flora & Fauna was universally agreed to be the worst.
Even Lanen's squad dreaded it—except Elina, who'd fled with a hasty, "I'll just self-study this one! Really! Not scared at all!" before caving under their stares. "Fine, I hate this class. Good luck!"
Today's lesson began with a warning:
"We'll cover textbook material first, then practice with one plant and one magical creature. Pay attention—or you'll join the exhibit." She pointed upward, where two unlucky students dangled from vines. "Misbehave, and you'll swing alongside them."
The teacher was notorious: strict, short-tempered, and fond of corporal punishment. Her mastery of rare botanical spells—poorly understood by arcane theory but lethally precise in her hands—made defiance futile.
"Close your books. Follow me to the greenhouse rear."
Behind towering shelves lay rows of potted Rothgrass, their half-bloomed flowers exuding a sweet, lingering fragrance. Against the wall, cages held tiny, big-eyed creatures—Smilebeasts, the very species Hale coveted.
The girls erupted.
"So cute!"
"Can we pet them?"
"Pleaaase?"
The teacher's glare silenced them. "Enough. The Smilebeasts come last. And—" She pointed to the ceiling vines. "Steal one, and you'll join them."
"Rothgrass. Beautiful, fragrant, and culturally significant—exchanged as tokens of fidelity in many regions. Today, we'll analyze its structure and learn basic care: soil aeration, fertilization, pruning, and pest control."
"You have three minutes to review. Then: pop quiz."