Chương 5

The moment Asteria whisked open the shutters, the orange rays of dawn spilled across Orion's blankets like ink, and cold air nipped at his cheeks. He tried to burrow deeper into the soft quilt, but his mother had already hooked two fingers under it.

"Up, moonbeam. Adventure awaits." He allowed himself to be pulled upright but protested nonetheless.

"Morning is for farmers and roosters."

"You're eight. You can nap in the carriage if you are still tired." She placed him beside the wash basin and left to gather her things. Eight, yes… Yet when the blue System pane appeared at his mental urging, the stats it displayed weren't directly proportional to his age, as should have been the case for an Initiate. STATUS ORION A.

VOIDWALKER Class: Initiate [E-Rank] Level: 10 Mind: 19 Attunement: 14 Body: 10 Trait: Mana Manipulation [E-rank] From what he had been able to extract from his mother's vague answers, children without a proper class were expected to average one level per year and receive only the single point per attribute that level provided, with a few rare exceptions who advanced in one field or another depending on their nature.

That tidy hypothesis broke when he had gained an extra level by first crafting his first potion, and then levitating a branch off the ground. He had tried to replicate his success, but spending almost every waking hour with his mother made progress hard, and applying the same formulae again didn't lead to extra gains, although he had managed to get the pillow to float for a good minute. The Body score climbed only one point each year in line with expectations, not that he put much effort into it.

However, his Mind soared whenever he cracked a new portion of this world's language or brewed a new potion. Unfortunately, the experience he gained from such feats was not sufficient for him to reach another level. Attunement, the most mysterious attribute, spiked whenever he paired science with "magic." This was quite rare, given how infrequently he was exposed to new magic long enough to grasp its functioning, and most of it consisted of advanced spells or potions—things he simply lacked the "power" to replicate.

Still, he was aware that he could be considered quite advanced for his age. It wasn't as impressive, given his actual age, but he had mostly focused on developing his understanding of the world and building a strong foundation. When the time came, his growth would be explosive. That private triumph warmed him as he splashed water on his face and hands. He quickly dressed in the outfit Asteria had laid out: charcoal trousers, a lamb-soft shirt, and that sky-blue jacket padded like a winter quilt.

Going outside the walls was the only bribe strong enough to make him accept pastel colors. His mother knew that and took ruthless advantage of it. He emerged to find Asteria swirling a white fur cloak around her shoulders, with a witch's hat on her head.

"Boots," she reminded without looking; then, seeing him hop around to fit the sturdy leather to his feet, she smiled.

"Silverpeak Town is a short flight from the east gate. I want to get there before the market's full." The hallways' crystal lamps spread soft light, intentionally low enough not to disturb those who had just woken up, but Orion felt fully awake. During his brisk walk down four winding flights, he counted his breaths to calm the hop in his step. Finally, finally, he would be able to see the world beyond the Sanctum's walls.

"Oh, he looks very excited today," an elderly witch he knew as Aunt Quila murmured as she encountered them on the way down. Asteria paused to greet her, prompting Orion to slow down too. She ignored the glance he cast her way with practiced ease. Over the years, she'd gotten very good at that.

"He is. We're going to Silverpeak Town for the first time," Asteria answered, smoothing Orion's rebellious white curls.

"Oh, that's wonderful. Would you mind terribly stopping by the foundry district and getting my new work knives? Old Gerrick told me they'd be done last week, but I haven't had the time to go down to get them." Aunt Quila asked, and Asteria nodded without missing a beat.

"Of course, Aunty. We were going to go there anyway." Fortunately, they managed to leave without further interruptions. A few people stopped to say hello, but they were all preoccupied with their own responsibilities. They hurried past the third floor, where children streamed sleepily toward the classrooms, and soon reached the ground floor. The eastern door opened like a hangar onto the Sanctum's inner court. The stables stood there, their moss-covered roofs speckled with frost.

The groom who met them smelled of saddle soap and cider and bowed elegantly as he gestured through a gate.

"Magistra, young master." Inside the launch area, two Pegasi waited, as large as supply wagons. Orion had only caught glimpses of them before—a flash of wings, a comet tail of silver hair as they passed above the walls. Up close, each beast's hide glistened like fresh snow, and their eyes were pools of pale violet, similar to Orion's own. They grazed from fruit troughs, chewing melon halves to pulp. When the leather harnesses slid across their backs, they merely flicked their tails.

Orion's knowledge of biology protested vehemently: twenty-foot wings, no matter how impressive, could not possibly lift the creatures, much less a carriage. And even if they did, the trip would be anything but smooth. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I guess the principle isn't that different from the flight formula, but then, why have wings in the first place?

Is there an intrinsic benefit gained from having limbs commonly associated with flight? Despite his annoyance, he couldn't help but stare at the Pegasi. They were truly majestic beasts, and he could see a spark of intelligence in their eyes.

"Cool," he breathed, feeling like a kid for once. Asteria's grin crinkled her eyes.

"Everyone is the same the first time. Pet them if you like—just keep clear of the feathers." Orion hurried forward and was met by the pegasus, which neighed contentedly as he stood on his tiptoes to stroke the velvet fur near one shoulder joint, feeling a faint hum beneath the skin, as if a motor thrummed there. The carriage rolled closer, revealing a luxurious structure made of lacquered black wood adorned with golden runes. When the door opened, Orion found the interior to be equally impressive.

Inside, red cushions awaited, magically enchanted to radiate warmth. Bouncing onto one, he pressed his nose against the window, not wanting to miss anything. The groom climbed onto the driver's board.

"Hold to the leather straps if your stomach's delicate," he called through a small speaking hatch.

"The updraft's strong this early." Asteria settled opposite Orion, placing her satchel next to her. The hatch slammed shut, and the reins snapped taut. The pegasi stamped once, wings flaring outward, and with a roar of "Yah! Let's get going!" from the rider, they leapt. For an instant, his inner ear sensed free fall, but the cushions embraced him, and a featherlight sensation filled the cabin, steadying it like a pendulum brought to rest. Outside, the stable walls blurred and fell away.

He heard the walls rushing past and felt the subtle tremors of acceleration, while the runes glowed gold, likely working hard to dampen the effects. They reminded him more of a truck than a plane, and he was very curious about the kind of runes the witches might have carved to produce such an effect. Do they have prayers for soft landings? I suppose so, considering all the stunts they pull on their brooms.

High winds brushed the windowpane with scales of frost, but each crystal pattered away as if the glass exhaled heat. From that height, Orion could see the Sanctum's upper terraces wrapped around the mountain like jeweled belts. It was truly beautiful. Hanging gardens spilled ivy and moss hundreds of feet downward, the leaves shimmering faintly with ice. The fortress-temple looked grown, not built: a silver seed that sprouted into stone, glass, and greenery. Then they banked east.

Valleys opened up—deep bowls of mist studded with fir hills—and he noticed a curious optical lensing around the carriage, as if the air inside a bubble was traveling with them. That could solve the comfort problem. An envelope would reduce the energy needed to keep the carriage stable, although it would likely increase the power requirements on the pegasi.

"Keep your eyes open," Asteria said.

"The far ridge there—the one with the twin peaks—marks the edge of our territory." Estimating the distance wasn't exactly easy, but considering their height, Orion eyeballed it at a hundred miles. I didn't know the range was so large.

"Why are the summits that smooth?" he asked, pointing to three mountains that stood out from the rest.

"Ice dragons reside there. A smooth peak means an active nest." Her tone carried the reverence usually reserved for sacred texts. Orion blinked before shrugging. Yeah, why not dragons too? Minutes later, the carriage eased into a gentle descent. Snowfields faded, pine crowns swept by, and finally, slate and wooden rooftops flashed below. Silverpeak Town sprawled across the entire valley floor, at times blending in and at times standing out.

Towers sprouted here and there, but none was as tall as the one standing proudly in its center, gleaming silver as the name promised. They settled on a landing field broad enough for twenty such carriages. The pegasi touched down, their hooves kicking up soft earth. Orion expected a jarring impact, but the suspension charm softened it into a sigh. The windows lowered, and their breath became visible in the morning chill.

I almost forgot what winter is truly like, considering that the Sanctum is always at a comfortable temperature. Outside, messenger hawks as large as his torso wheeled on tether chains, their handlers strapping canisters to claw clasps. A freight crew herded six-legged lizards onto padded sleds, their tails twitching with sparks. Orion knew them to be beasts bred to keep goods warm en route through the mountains, having seen them lead supply carts into the coven.

Everything smelled of oats, polishing oil, and mountain air.

"Welcome to Silverpeak!" The driver said as he opened the door, bowing.

"Thank you, Mr. Stone. We will need your services once more in the afternoon, if you don't mind hanging about," Asteria said, gracefully descending before turning around and giving Orion her hand. He took it, still too dazzled.

"Of course, Magistra. The boys and I will wait for you." The man replied, closing the door behind them. The landing zone opened toward a low arch where two watchmen stood. When they saw Asteria, their eyes fixated on her hat and the brooch pinned to her cloak. They saluted, stiffer than boards.

"Ma'am! Welcome to Silverpeak!" one shouted, bearing more detailed symbols in his leather armor. The other men all snapped a salute, and Orion was left blinking in surprise. His mother, on the other hand, wasn't phased and merely nodded, "Thank you." Orion raised his brows at the deference. Is Mom that scary? Either that, or the relationship between the coven and its territories is more strict than I expected. No matter; he was quickly distracted when Silverpeak Town proper came into view.

Seeing it from above had been a treat, but it didn't truly convey a sense of what was on the ground. A thousand voices suddenly filled his ears, and it was nearly overwhelming for someone who had been a recluse for the past eight years. Stalls were pressed shoulder to shoulder. A dwarf in a cobalt smock shouted about sun-forged chisels, showcasing blades carved with tiny, detailed flames.

A cat-eyed, long-eared, beautiful humanoid that Orion immediately pegged as an elf offered phials of "cloud milk," said to distill sadness from the drinker; every phial gave a different shimmer. Human peddlers hawked parchment that turned ink silver under moonlight, claiming it came directly from the Lunar Sanctum. These men quickly fell silent and slinked away when they noticed Asteria. Orion's head swiveled so fast that he worried about straining his neck.

The Sanctum possessed more powerful magic, but the abundance here was equally impressive. His mother moved with unhurried purpose, and the crowd parted for her as if by a gravitational force. People glanced once, noticed her hat, and adjusted their course, much like fish yielded to a ship's keel. She paused at an herb stand where coils of dried ghost peppers hung like scarlet corkscrews. Touching the merchandise, she murmured, "Good oil content. If our suppliers don't improve, I'll divert orders here."

She tucked a coil into her basket and slipped a large bronze coin into an expectant hand, and Orion noted the vendor's grin widen; business with the Sanctum seemed to be highly regarded. Between spice stalls, a would-be pickpocket lunged for a merchant's purse. The pouch twitched, cloth unfurling into a soft maw that swallowed the thief's wrist and tightened like oozing tar. He yelped, flailing until two constables ambled over. No one seemed startled, as if this were a daily occurrence.

Asteria led them to the rim of a fountain where musicians played hammered dulcimers, their strings intertwined with threads of ice that resonated with chilling harmonics. Orion longed to go and ask how they could possibly not melt, more interested in a possible superconducting material capable of resisting the current temperature, but a black-haired apothecary flagged down his mother to lament a poor shipment of valerian. Asteria nodded in understanding, promising to inform the Sanctum's stewards.

Every new sight tugged at him in three directions at once. A woman in a crystal mask poured molten glass into floating molds; by the time the globes drifted downward, they had cooled into perfect spheres etched with constellations. A baker sold bread that whistled flute tones when torn, with steam holes tuned like organ pipes. Two children sent wooden boats sailing in puddles, racing them while the tiny sails moved with an unseen wind. Orion absorbed it all, piecing together a map of regional capabilities.

The Sanctum was a star, and Silverpeak was its bright satellite, trading on the luster but not sharing its secrets. It is probably where most of the coven's trading is done, so it has strategic importance. Soon, they reached the base of the tall, silver-veined tower he'd seen from above. Orion craned his neck and found himself gazing at the intricate construction. It was even taller than he had anticipated, easily soaring one hundred fifty feet into the air.

It was primarily made of stone, but unlike the rest of the town, with its wooden accents, it featured a silvery metal woven intricately into its design. Knowing how soft silver could be, Orion wondered how the entire structure hadn't collapsed yet, eventually attributing it to more magic. I hadn't given engineering of this scale much thought, but if a material as unsuitable as silver—or one of its alloys— can support such weight, there might be no real limit to what these people can achieve.

"Ah, you are here!" rumbled a voice from above, and Orion craned his head up to see where it came from. He blinked in surprise when he saw who'd spoken and realized that she was, by far, the largest woman he'd ever seen. A giant?