The Contractor, with Lena's help, had moved us all to a small village near Blythe named Elsirae. Everyone was worried at first, with no wall and no guards to speak of, that we would be quickly discovered and chased down. Yet Elsirae was small enough to be invisible, and no one came searching for us. Lena even saw to Bernard's request that the several hundred coin in the shop's safe was split evenly between his two older lady Assistants. Solace for the shoe shop's sudden and unexpected closing.

The Contractor took a precaution of disguising Mallow whenever we were to go outside of the small cottage the Contractor had constructed for us to stay in. Specifically, he enchanted the door, and whenever any of us would leave, we would transform into a disguise he had placed on us while still in his sights. This meant that we could walk around without fear of being captured by any forces that might be hunting us in connection with the mysterious events of Winsor's Age Day.

This made Mallow like the Contractor more, as she was, for the first time in her life, the same size as everyone else. She would go and hang out with the farmers' daughters frequently, getting involved in the local gossip and intrigue in a way she never could before. Mallow's disguise changed her hair and eyes to natural colors, and of course made her much shorter, but still retained her likeness somewhat in the face.

One day, she ran through the door, slammed it shut, and stared at me, breathing heavily. I stood up from the table where I'd been sitting.

"Mallow, what's wrong?" I asked in a panic. She swallowed once, catching her breath. It'd been odd calling her Mallow when she looked nothing like Mallow, but I had gotten used to it after so many hours.

"Thomas of the mill said he likes me," she nearly shouted. "A boy likes me! A boy likes me!" She ran around the table in circles twice, guffawing. They may have shrank her but she still had a distinct masculine air about her. Then she stopped in place and stared at me. "What are you doing?"

"Uh." I moved my hand to cover the paper. "Writing a letter."

"Oh, to who?" she asked. I floundered to come up with a name before Mallow waved her hand and spun around in a circle once more. "Oh who cares is the better question. Sorry, Dad..." She danced in place, her shadow jumping in the candlelight from spot to spot on the wall as she moved. "I got to go tell Bernard! He's going to be SO jealous!"

And with that she was gone, darting through the door toward Bernard's room. I moved my hand again, revealing the piece of paper. I furrowed my brow, staring at the word. It was a simple enough form. Just five areas to fill in. But I couldn't make sense of this one here on line three. Let's see, I'd filled out 'Name,' using my family name for the first time in over a decade. Then I'd gone to experience, which with some difficulty, I'd listed the herbs I knew to identify. Then... this line. What was it...?

The door opened again and Sir Osoro's telltale heavy footsteps entered the room. He must have weighed a good hundred pounds less than Bernard, but the confidence of his footfalls always left a louder impression. Living together for half a week, I'd already begun to pick up on each person's peculiarities.

"Snow and Hexes, he won't let me go." Sir Osoro pulled out a chair, and threw himself down into it. He rested his elbows on the table and rested his face in his hands. He was disguised as well, but still handsome, mostly switching out his dark hair for a spring blonde and his Majikast associated coppery skin with a faint peach. I found the fact that his disguise was still handsome somewhat amusing, as Osoro hadn't had his magic since we'd fled the sewer. Either Lena or the Contractor had decided to keep him handsome even while in disguise.

I didn't say anything. I kept writing my letter. Osoro had been trying to convince the Contractor to let him go to the Avalon Academy to lead the case against Winsor's mother Naobe, to make sure justice was served. Or so he said. I think, considering the explosive ending to Winsor's Age Day, there wasn't much of a chance the CMA wouldn't come and tear Reglar manor apart brick by brick, discovering everything. Even if it had only been the massacre in the manor, which had resulted in untold 'missing' sorcerers and their Assistants, it would have been the scandal of the century.

But Divinis Wenrick had not gone down alone. The True Heir Inn he had been supporting had also fallen. That had been the thunder that had preceded the rain I heard in the sewers, as the unstable structure had succumbed to natural law and broke. Dozens had died within as it fell. Then there were the buildings it had collapsed onto. Avalons had been cleaning it out for days. Osoro told me that there had been an emergency decree banning all magic buildings over three stories tall from the Cosmotic Demicanter of Architecture.

Osoro lamented being Contracted in colorful terms yet again, declaring he needed to be part of the investigation to ensure that justice was delivered. Osoro's real concern was probably leading the investigation away from his friend Bernard. And yet, I understood a little, and I didn't reprimand him for it.

A few moments of silence passed, Osoro stewing.

"What harm would it do? I'd come back once he placed us with someone. He has my word as an Avalon. Honestly." Osoro finally broke the quiet after staring into the fire.

"Hmmm," I replied. "How is the investigation going?" Not being able to read well, I'd been relying on Osoro to tell me if any news made it to Elsirae about the incident. Letters could be written, but response was slow with so many still in shock and many others searching for answers.

"The Arcanacracy is being very quiet about Blythe. The only official news so far is that Divinis Wenrick has died and the city is currently considered 'not under Enchanted protection,' so travel there is heavily discouraged. No one who knows the true story seems to be writing. I... think they don't want to scare people."

Memories surfaced of the fight between Mallow and the Boeren. The crowd subdued with magic... The concern with how the people perceived the Avalons rather than how they actually were, successful or failing in their aims, had been the most important thing to Sir Osoro. So the Avalons learned it from the Arcanacracy; it wasn't only Osoro's vanity.

"Quiet?"

"Yes. They keep reporting it as some sort of accident. Mysterious and deadly as magic sometimes is, is what the official line is. They're listing sorcerers as missing that I know I saw killed. And others I saw killing seem to be free still with no warrants for their arrest. The cover-up isn't what any of us wanted, but it's not the worst case scenario at least. These disguises are probably unnecessary. No one has come looking for Bernard. There are no rumors of someone looking for us. We haven't been framed or accused of the triggering event. In the letter I received from him today, Sir Fayd wrote that he hasn't been asked about us by any of the Arcana Enforcement agents swarming town or the Northern Cosmotic Thaucult who had deigned to investigate the city after ignoring Divinis Wenrick's initial invitation. Maybe if they'd been there, it wouldn't have gotten so out of hand..."

And he was tiny again, his gaze distant. No magic. He had worried about doing something terrible before, but the balance of good and bad had shifted with all of the deaths. He now knew he had done wrong.

"Osoro..." I tried to say something comforting. "We did the right thing, I think. I mean, I'm no expert, but if I heard this story in a tavern I'd say, 'look at those heroes.'"

Osoro laughed his terrible flat laugh. "At least we saved Mallow and Chrys. Sir Fayd says Chrys's father is taking good care of him. That is... something."

"What about Winsor?"

"I assume he and his mother are in custody, otherwise there would be a death announcement as there was for the Divinis."

My chest hurt for a moment. I didn't understand it. Winsor wanted to keep Mallow as a slave, when he was an undead monster himself, and yet...

"What?" I'd been avoiding asking. "What do you think they'll do to him?" It hurt to ask. I didn't want to know the answer. I had to know. I couldn't stop seeing his determined face as he attacked Ricardo in order to save that girl. "Will he have to go through the same thing as Thessa?"

"Oh? No. He's a sentient monster, sure, but he's undead. He's a parasite who can only survive by taking the life from civilized people. That excludes him from sentient monster protection."

"So?"

"So..." Sir Osoro flexed his fingers absently. "So, the best thing that could have happened for him, is that he over exerted himself while casting and died of frost shock. The next best thing is that his dad's enchantment on him was of the sustained variety, and he died shortly after his father's magic stopped working."

"No," I said reflexively. Unable to help it. "He's... He didn't even know... He's just a kid..." I bit the inside of my lip and tried to focus on his perverse fixation with Mallow. That should make him hated enough. That should ruin his image in my mind. And yet, I kept replaying it, his rescue of that girl. His gentle face when he healed me in the alley when the others had kept walking. His fierce hug as he thanked me. His eyes full of hope about the future as he peered up at me.

"Winsor was pathetic," Osoro sighed. "Which isn't a crime. He did not deserve what happened to him."

I kept my opinion to myself about Winsor's worth. Osoro would never realize how strong Winsor was to try as hard as he did, with no friends. Perhaps Osoro had always been too popular, too welcome, and too liked to ever understand what a struggle it'd been for someone like Winsor to even step through his bedroom door in the morning, to face a world that was guaranteed to not want him.

"What..." I said. I stared into the candle, letting the flickering flames burn an image into my eyes. I was startled when I heard Bernard shout from the next room over. It was muffled, but the gist was something like, 'No way!' since Mallow's much louder and clearer retort was, 'It's totally true!' with a wave of shrieking laughs afterwards.

"Sounds like she has some good news," Osoro said, grinning at the door across the room. "Bernard's very fond of her. She's... surprisingly... likable, considering."

"What's the worst thing?" I asked.

Osoro was confused at having his thought cut off.

"Excuse me?"

"You said, 'the best thing, for Winsor.' You said the best thing would be if he... were... um, if he died," My confidence with words had been failing me these last few days, my mind more prone to reflection and caution then barreling ahead. Before I'd just wanted to be saying something, now I wanted to make sure I was saying the right thing.

"Oh, the worst thing would be if the Arcana Enforcement took him into custody," Osoro said. "Since he's not protected under human laws, and he's not protected under sentient monster laws, he's vulnerable to experimentation. They very may well auction him off to the highest bidder or keep him for Arcanacrastic experiments."

"That sounds terrible," I said.

"It is. Like I said, all we can hope is that he's already dead."

It was a bitter realization. If I had never entered Blythe, Winsor would have been better off. And yet, only because he would have remained in the dark about the nature of his life. When I'd been lying awake at night, I expected to be haunted by the gory scenes of experimentation on Thessa, or the way I felt too guilty to fight back when the mob of angry customers cornered me. And yet, the only thing I kept going back to again and again was just a few seconds. A moment when that dog threw back its head and wailed. Betrayal. I had never intended to care about Winsor. Up until the last moment, I had him pegged as a suspect. But to him, my friendship had meant everything. A con man's friendship.

I jumped as I felt the paper pinned beneath my fingers slip away. Osoro had slipped it out from under my hand.

"Rude, you could have asked."

"I did," Osoro said, straightening the paper and touching the last spot of writing to make sure it was dry. His fingertip came away clean, and he studied the sheet thoughtfully. "I asked three times, but you weren't responding." He glanced at me. "You've been doing that a lot lately."

"Replaying my mistakes," I admitted. "Hey, do you know what the third line says there? I've never seen that word before."

"Sponsors," Osoro answered. "More specifically, 'Sponsors in Good Standing with the Arcanacracy."

"Oh," I said. "Guess this plan is busted then," I laughed gently.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Osoro said. "Bernard and I are contracted, but he's still an Enchanted, and I'm still an Avalon. Not to mention we should be meeting our Client in a day or two. I'm sure while we're in training Mallow could convince him or her to sponsor you while we're off on our great task. For... peace of mind or whatnot." Osoro reached over and gestured for me to hand him the pen. I placed it in his hand unthinkingly.

He dipped it into the ink and signed in one swift motion.

"You're not even going to think about it?" I asked.

"Why should I? You going to a Mediceum is a great idea."

"Yes, but the tuition... I don't even think I can afford it. What if I have to drop out? Won't you be embarrassed?"

"There's no shame in trying something good and failing. There is only shame in succeeding at something wicked," Osoro said. "And I'm sure Bernard won't mind giving you the money for your tuition."

"Bernard doesn't exactly like me."

Osoro got up and walked into Bernard's room. I sat in the seat, hyper aware of it all of the sudden. What were they going to do now?

Bernard and Mallow came out of the room, shoving at each other to get out first. Mallow got to the table and slammed her hands down on it. If she'd been full sized, it would have flipped straight into the ceiling. As it was, it shuddered with the force of the blow.

"You're going to a Mediceum?" she asked. "Like, where they teach you to actually heal people and stuff?"

"Uh, I'm going to attempt to, yeah," I said.

"That's great! You're going to have like a real job!"

"But doesn't he need a sponsor?" Bernard asked.

"Yes, we're going to sponsor him." Sir Osoro rested a hand on Bernard's shoulder. Bernard's head hung low as he peered at his friend.

"But... I don't even like him."

"See, told you," I laughed.

"Aw, come on Bernard," Mallow whined. "Dad's trying to do something good for once!" She tugged on his arm.

"This may be another con," Bernard said, his face hurt by having to tell Mallow this much. "You can't expect me to hand over my fortune to a con man."

"That is a good precaution to point out," Osoro said.

"I thought you were on my side," I protested.

"I'm on the common good's side," Sir Osoro said. He grabbed Mallow and Bernard, and they walked off into the corner in a huddle. I sat up in my chair and cupped my ear to hear what they were whispering about, but that was unnecessary since they weren't whispering at all.

"We have to find a compromise," Sir Osoro said. "I want to sponsor him, Mallow wants him sponsored, and the only problem is you."

"I worked hard for my coin. Since I'm going to be gone on the Proving, the only way I can provide the finances is to hand it all over and trust him." Bernard tilted his head back at Mallow. "From what you told me about your dad's record, that would be a very bad idea."

"Aw, not so bad Bernard," Mallow pouted. "I should have kept my dumb mouth shut."

"He can't attend the Mediceum without the coin or the sponsorship... Also, we might have to change his name before he attends." Osoro tagged another complication onto the problem.

"Yeah, at the very least the Azark name has too many associations with the Fushon of Merode lie," Mallow conceded.

I discretely dipped my pen into the inkwell and blotted out my first name, leaving just my family name. Iovan.

"Done and done," I said. "I'll go by my old surname. I haven't used it in decades, but I still have the papers for it," I said.

"Dad you're not supposed to be listening," Mallow yelled at me. I shrugged into my shoulders with a grin.

"Oh, sorry, sorry. Go on." I waved. "Just an old man talking to myself over here."

Mallow stuck her tongue out at me before huddling again with the group.

"Hmm.... That takes care of the name, but we still have the original problems. Wait, Bernard, how did you get your coin out of the town?"

"I keep my money in a CMA bank; I don't keep it in the shop," Bernard replied, his voice laced with confusion. "I mean, the days take, sure, but at the end of the week, I always stop by and deposit it."

"But... the bank is in Blythe," Mallow continued, confused.

"Mallow, banks... see..." Osoro hesitated as he tried to figure out this concept he took for granted, and how to simplify it further. "...he can take the money from any bank that's part of Arcanacracy bank system... so...." Osoro continued to explain to Mallow how banks worked. I listened intently. I had never had enough money to use a bank before...

After a moment, Osoro snapped his fingers.

"I've got it. We can pay all of the tuition ahead of time, for all of the courses. Then Azark can't go spend the money on cabaret girls instead!"

"Oh, my dad stopped visiting cabarets years ago, but yeah, I understand what you're saying," Mallow chirped.

"I don't know. What if he doesn't show up?"

"That's a risk we'll have to be willing to take," Osoro said.

"Easy for you to say; it's going to be mostly my money," Bernard grumbled.

"Aw, come on you guys. When we get back from the Proving we're going to be as rich as sorcerers... In your case..." She graced Bernard's shoulder with a touch. "Still... still be as rich as a sorcerer. In either case, money is not going to be an object anymore!"

"She's right. And if we die, the money will probably... oh..." Osoro went quiet.

"I guess I don't have any family to leave it to anymore. I, well, okay."

Bernard's head tilted down toward his feet and his cheeks glowed. "Give me the paper." Osoro handed Bernard the paper, and he signed it, before handing it back, the page wrinkling. "I'll... I'll go to the bank and get the coin," he said.

"Bernard, are you okay?" Mallow asked. Bernard laughed, but it was a strained sound, and he pushed past her gently and made for the door. Mallow took a step to follow, but Osoro grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She was quiet after the door shut. She glowered at Osoro.

"What was that for?" she asked angrily. "He was about to cry; I wanted to help."

"Mallow, he needs time to sort out his emotions about losing his family. Sure, when you're with him he doesn't cry, but he needs to in order to-"

"I don't understand. Crying isn't a good thing. It means he's sad." Mallow jerked her hand away and chased after Bernard. She threw open the door, and sunlight invaded the small room we sat in. "Bernard, wait! I want to see how a bank works!" It slammed behind her as she ran after him.

Osoro handed the paper to me, body language deflated somewhat.

"There you go; you're sponsored. Once Bernard confirms he can still transfer his coin as he likes and it's not under some sort of Arcanacracy lockdown, I'll send a messenger to get this to the Mediceum in Ekonaor."

"Thanks," I said. I handled the paper like a precious but fragile treasure in my fingers. "It's... got to be hard for him, losing his dad." My dad had died slowly. He had refused to eat when we only had enough food for one. I envied Bernard's sudden loss in a way, even as I pitied him.

"I'm glad Mallow didn't have to experience the same thing." Osoro stepped over to the cabinet and opened it. He pulled out a small woven basket filled with mushrooms he had gathered earlier in the day. "She's nice, for a Moon Giant." He walked over to the hearth and moved a small metal plate onto the heavy wire that usually held the stew pot. He tossed them on without ceremony and poked them around, the smell of their grilling filling the small space.

"Hungry?" I asked.

"Oh yes. It's... been a lot of changes for everyone. I always want to eat when I get stressed out." Osoro plucked one of the mushrooms off the plate and breathed on it. "If not for the magic and mandatory Avalon battle practice, I'd be bigger than Bernard."

"That'd be a good thing right?" I asked.

"Ah, yes, except the people would think I wouldn't be able to relate anymore, being some pampered and well fed Arcanacrat." He took a bite out of the mushroom and paused as he chewed. He swallowed. "Cheese. It needs cheese."

"Here, I'll help if you share." I got up and went over to the cabinet too, opening it and pulling out a wheel of cheese I'd bought earlier. I broke the wax on the outside and used a knife to sheer off slivers. We didn't talk while preparing the food. When they were done, covered in cheese and blackened in spots from the heat, their aroma filling the air, Osoro arranged the mushrooms into two separate wooden bowls, and then moved the cooking plate onto a small stone shelf near the hearth.

He sat and ate, and so did I.