At dawn, the group exited the main house where Spud immediately stood and approached, tail wagging.
Clara knelt and scruffed his ears. "Good boy."
Elohan appeared a moment later, leading their horses.
"It's important to know one's limits," the elf began. "Today, I want you to run. Head out the west gate and follow the main road. I've placed rune markers every mile—they'll record your progress."
Dhalia sighed. She'd been running daily for the past week, but it was still her weakest point. "Where are we running to?"
"You'll run for exactly five hours," Elohan said. "Wherever you are at the five-hour mark will be your score. You'll lead your mount the entire time—but you're not allowed to ride it until the test is complete."
"You can do it," Cane said, placing a hand on Dhalia's shoulder. "Just run as far as you can. It's a good way to see where we all stand."
Clara pumped her fist. "Let's go!"
"You may begin. Don't forget to drink water," Elohan added before vanishing with a wave of his hand.
Cane took off at an easy jog, weaving through the slums and out the west gate, where the long, flat road stretched endlessly before him. The day was cool and overcast—ideal for running—but within a few miles, Cane began to feel the heat. He peeled off his outer layer, settling into a rhythm with just his short-sleeve shirt and trousers.
The first two hours passed quietly. Every half hour, he stopped to drink, quickly learning that trying to sip while jogging only led to water up the nose.
In hour three, he passed a caravan. His horse nickered at the passing wagons, jerking the reins before settling down again.
By the fourth hour, Cane's legs were growing heavy. The smooth stride from earlier now felt like pushing a rusted gate. Cramps crawled up his thighs, and his feet ached.
At five hours, he stopped at the next marker, took a long drink, and attempted to mount his horse. His legs refused.
"This is so sad," Cane muttered.
He led the horse by the reins for a few minutes before spotting a large boulder. Using it like a step stool, he finally climbed into the saddle.
"Heavens… my legs." He tapped his psi-rune.
Cane: How is everyone?
Dhalia: I can't move… Just scrape me off the ground when you ride by.
Fergis: Seems like I can't get into the saddle.
Clara: Me too.
Cane: I found a big boulder and used it to mount up.
Fergis: I'll start looking.
Cane expected to catch up with his teammates on the way back to the estate—but they must've figured out the saddle situation too. He didn't see them again until he arrived back at the Ironheart courtyard, where they were already seated on the benches, looking drained but proud.
Elohan stood before them, hands clasped behind his back. "Shall I announce the results?"
He smirked.
"Dhalia—fourteen miles."
Cane clapped first. "You're improving a lot."
Clara and Fergis joined in, their cheers lifting Dhalia's spirits.
"Clara and Fergis—both reached nineteen miles," Elohan continued, glancing at the two gingers, both red-faced and slumped.
"Fergis actually made it further," Clara admitted.
"True," Elohan said. "But he didn't pass the next marker, so the score is the same."
Clara gave Fergis a thumbs up. "Seeing you try so hard kept me going."
"And last, we have Cane—thirty-five miles."
Silence.
"D-did you say thirty-five?" Dhalia asked.
Then her face broke into a wide grin, and she clapped. "Keep leading the way—we'll follow as fast as we can."
Cane found her smile contagious. "We're all improving. Let's keep up the good work."
Elohan watched Cane with a subtle nod of approval, secretly impressed that the young man never sought praise—only progress.
"Take these," he said, handing each of them a small parcel. "Eat them to recover faster."
Cane accepted his with a grateful nod. "Thank you."
Spud stuck a wet nose into Clara's ear, making her yelp and laugh.
"That tickles," she said, grinning as she nibbled at the snack Elohan had given them. "What kind of fruit is this?"
Dhalia shook her head. "Never seen it before, but I can already feel my legs again. So... magical, probably."
"Elven, I bet," Fergis guessed, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "So... what did you guys think of my sister?"
Dhalia and Clara exchanged a look.
"She's great," Dhalia said with a straight face.
"Oh yes, amazing," Clara echoed, nodding.
Then, as if rehearsed: "Nothing like you."
Cane burst out laughing at the wounded look on Fergis's face, already suspecting the girls had planned that bit. "You mentioned having two older brothers. Where are they these days?"
"Far away. Hopefully," Fergis muttered. "My oldest brother—the 'heir,' as he loves to remind everyone—is pretending to be a scholar. He's in the capital, at the university's finance division."
Clara raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Now I have to meet him."
"My second brother is a knight under Meya Rowe," Fergis added, rolling his eyes. "He's never met a mirror he didn't fall in love with."
Cane chuckled. "That good-looking, huh?"
"Nope. Just thinks he is," Fergis replied. "But I'll give him this—he's handy in a fight."
Spud followed Cane to the forge, ears pricked, alert to every sound.
"Let's try a few node activations," Cane muttered.
Ever since his second star appeared, he'd noticed something new—tiny node-like structures inside various metals. But their purpose eluded him. Now, back at the forge, it was time to experiment.
He dug through the bin and pulled out three small bars of high-carbon steel. As twin stars lit the forge in quiet brilliance, Cane immersed himself into the world of steel. Impurities vanished with ease, revealing a deep, blue-black twilight landscape.
"Let's see what these nodes do…"
He focused on the first—nothing. Just a visual signature. He moved to the second, then the third. Still nothing. They didn't respond.
"Are these locked to me?" he muttered. "Or is my knowledge just lacking?"
One after another, nodes refused to activate… until one finally responded, flaring with magic as he connected with it. Curious, he examined the bar—no change. It looked and felt the same.
He toggled the node off, noting that he could now recognize it from the others.
"Maybe this one's useless," Cane muttered. He turned it on again and tossed the bar into a bin.
The sound of shattering glass froze him.
The steel had broken into countless pieces.
Reaching for a shard, he paused. Before his fingers touched it, the steel began to oxidize—rust spreading like wildfire—until only fine brown dust remained.
"Did I stress the metal? Or is this a property of steel?" He exhaled. "I'll call this one Shatter."
He tried again with the second bar. Failure after failure—until one more node lit up.
The moment he activated it, the metal bar fell through his hands and slammed onto the bench with a loud thud.
"What the hell…" He strained to lift it. "It was two pounds. Now it feels like a hundred."
Within seconds, it too began to corrode, crumbling into rust.
"That's two," Cane murmured. "Shatter and Heavy."
He picked up the third bar, noting the two now-familiar nodes. "Maybe I can connect them…"
He activated Shatter, then drew a line of will to Heavy. Both nodes glowed, harmonizing. Prepared for the shift in weight, Cane held tight and dropped it onto the bench.
CRASH.
The bar exploded. Another pile of rust.
Driven by instinct, Cane placed his hand over the latest dust pile and sank into it.
"Heavens…" The rust world was beautiful—dingy brown, yes, but laced with vibrant traces of elemental metal, sparkling like starlight in fog.
He purified the particles, then began bonding them.
The twin stars flared overhead, draining his energy faster than anything he'd tried. When it was done, Cane leaned heavily on the bench, gasping.
Recovering, he lifted the newly forged metal.
It was impossibly light—lighter than mithril. And the nodes… were gone.
"This isn't steel anymore."
He struck it against the anvil. The tensile strength was off the charts. It rang with a tone both deep and pure.
"Rebonding oxidized remains removes the node's effect… and recognizes me as the master. The Heavy becomes light. The Shattered becomes strong…"
Before he could continue the thought, Relen appeared.
"Young Master?"
Cane stepped out of the forge, wiping rust-stained hands on a rag. "Yes, Relen?"
"I've found a suitable candidate, per your request." Relen stepped aside, revealing a middle-aged man in worn leather armor.
"This is Captain Livaldi. Former soldier. Now a caravan guard."
The man extended his hand. "He's being polite. I'm a mercenary—but I don't take illegal jobs."
Cane shook his hand. "A mercenary with a conscience?"
"Something like that," Livaldi replied. "I run a team of ten. Good men and women."
Cane nodded, dismissing Relen with a glance. When they were alone, he continued.
"I'll pay you five hundred platinum a month. Your only job is to escort caravans traveling to and from the Sweetwater tailoring shop in Ora."
Livaldi raised an eyebrow. "Expecting trouble?"
Cane shrugged. "Maybe. But that's not the point. My priority is keeping Lorna and Dagan Sweetwater safe."
Livaldi gave a slow nod. "We'll take the job."
"Perfect. They're in the guest wing. Relen will make introductions."