Talks and observations

Kieran raised his mug, its sizzling contents sloshing audibly as he hit it against Thorne's container. Then, he took a swing, gulping a solid amount of the root beer they drank. With a relieved sigh, he put the mug on the table, focusing a little more on the surroundings.

Light from the mana lamps on walls and supports cast a myriad of shadows over the place, many interlacing to hide some of the numerous patrons of the tavern. The masses sitting by their tables all had the same intent as the three, and they proceeded with their activities in a rather quiet atmosphere.

He sighed heavily. Looking at the dark fluid in his mug, he saw the ceiling's distorted reflection. Its age-old sturdy wood surface had some splinters, but it was bound to hold. Even without grand knowledge of architecture, he was certain it would last for generations.

Kieran's gaze swept across the room. It was a tavern frequented mostly by middle-class citizens - merchants, craftsmen, mercenaries, and many more people. Many of those he saw were cloaked to some extent, a couple even going as far as covering parts of their faces so as not to be recognized easily.

Under normal circumstances, Kieran would have avoided a place like this, just as Thorne and Illan would. He favored establishments where the floors were free of sticky food scraps, and where the air, though tinged with the scent of ****, was at least somewhat pure. However, there was something about this tavern that made up for its shortcomings.

"Puah," he gasped after taking a long gulp. "Gods, nothing hits like this beer," he smirked.

"The best in Weydan," nodded Thorne, rummaging through his blonde hair. "Imagine what it'd sell for if it were better known."

"Hah, I'd rather not."

Illan didn't chime in the conversation, instead tapping on the table with his fingers. His sleek form was unwavering as he looked at Kieran with an indescribable gaze. The hair on his head shuffled as he turned around, scrutinizing the space. The light from manalamps danced across his skin, casting shadows that made him look even more grim.

His silent attitude did not go unnoticed. The blonde man prodded him with an elbow.

"Something the matter, Illan?" Thorne asked. "You don't usually look so glum."

Illan's brown eyes focused on the man. His hand went to his mug. The small amount of dark liquor on the bottom was less than a sip for him, which he promptly drank, the bitter and sour aftertaste making his face contort.

Then, the brown-haired man sighed.

"I'm just a little annoyed, is all," he swiped his hand dismissively.

"What's the problem?" Kieran inquired, focusing on their leader intensely.

Illan hesitated, his gaze lowering as he traced the rim of his empty mug with a fingertip. "...Do you guys ever wish the law and order worked a little differently?" he asked slowly, his voice tinged with frustration.

Noticing the strange tone of the question, Kieran shuffled in his seat before swiping his mane and prodding, "Which rules exactly are we talking about?"

"Marriage, families, things like that," Illan replied. Turning around, he gestured toward a nearby waitress, signaling that he wanted a refill. "You know, I just find it ridiculous that once a decision is made, nobody can change it. The family head decides who meets who, and you can't do much if you're not involved directly."

Kieran exchanged a glance with Thorne, both men equally puzzled by their leader's demeanor. He had yet to see him like this.

"...Did something happen with Ophelia?" Thorne probed carefully.

"What? No," Illan's eyes snapped to his blonde friend, the sharpness in his gaze belying his calm tone. "I'm just thinking about Ester."

The name of Illan's sister hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. As the waitress approached, she replaced his empty mug with a fresh one, the foam nearly spilling over the rim. Illan wasted no time, taking a long sip as though to drown whatever thoughts entangled his mind.

"Did your father set her up for marriage?" Kieran asked, his voice cautious as he studied Illan's reaction.

"Not yet," Illan shook his head. "But I know he does plan on that. And yet, I, her older brother, can't even voice my opinion and be taken seriously. How crazy is that? Just because it doesn't involve me directly, I'm silenced by my old man."

"Well, but can't she break the engagement if things go awry?" Thorne asked, visibly confused.

"Ester isn't like that. She's too quiet, too timid to voice her opinion. As long as the guy promises her a peaceful and stable life, she won't squeak," Illan huffed before chugging some beer. "And I can't do anything. Hell, even if he ended up hurting her, I wouldn't be able to. Why are rules like that, dammit?" his voice gained a little volume before he restrained himself. "I just want the best for her because I know she won't notice when she's being used. But no, I can't. My old man won't hear a word of mine."

"Did he tell you who he plans on engaging her with?" asked Kieran.

"Not directly, but I've heard things. We once had visitors from the Tezmi family, and their middle son, Karis, had given Ester a gift. After that, I heard that there was a long talk between my old man and theirs. I think it's obvious who he has in mind."

A momentary pause in Illan's rant made Kieran instantly take note of the rest of the room. It appeared that nobody heard or cared so much a word of his disclosure. The thought gave the man a reassuring push to interject his leader's words.

"Even so," he started, making a circle with his hand and causing his beer to stir gently. "It could always be someone worse. Tezmi family is wealthy, even more so than Stormriders. Doesn't this mean that, once you marry Ophelia and Ester gets with Karis, you'll have access to nearly unlimited capital? I mean, what won't a sister do for her brother, am I right?" he glanced at Thorne, searching for the man's support.

"Yeah," the blonde man agreed. "It could always be a dirt-poor idiot. Look at your blessings, Illan."

"That's not the point!" Illan burst out, his fist slamming onto the table with a **** that made the mugs jump. His composure cracked, and a flash of anger darkened his face. 'It's not about their family, it's the fact itself...' he thought angrily. All he wanted was to take Ester under his wing. The last thing he wanted was some other man enjoying her company.

Kieran's face turned to surprise. He had yet to see Illan mad like that, and the view sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Illan sighed, curling his fingers tighter against his mug.

"Then, what is the point?" Thorne's voice cut the silence as he glanced around the tavern. The few heads that had turned toward them seemed to not bother with them.

Illan remained silent. There was something about him neither of his friends could decipher, like a hidden piece to his behavior. The way his fingers curled around the mug's handle told them he was thinking about something that did not agree with his beliefs. However, the topic of the thought was beyond their imagination. Neither could ever imagine Illan wanted to show his sister affection unbefitting for siblings.

Kieran sighed. "Maybe you could challenge Karis in a duel? I heard that in Melidan this is a common way one can test their sibling's fiance to see if they fit. You can make a deal that he'll break the engagement if you win, no?"

"I can't," Illan sighed with defeat. "I'd love to, but Karis is a Swordsman. I might beat him at magic, but that won't be considered fair. On the other hand, if I handicap myself and use no magic, I can't win. There's no good way out in this scenario. And that's why I want a change. I want to have a say in all that, and a way to influence the outcome. I don't want to see Ester go to some brute," the Breshnaw heir continued, his voice heavy.

...

The tension hung in the air for several beats as Illan's words settled into a heavy silence. Kieran exchanged a glance with Thorne, seeing how Illan’s hand clenched tightly around his mug. Nobody broke the silence, the three lost in their thoughts.

Kieran shifted in his seat unsteadily. His mug had long since been empty, but he didn't want a refill. Rather, he felt like giving Illan a minute to mull over whatever gnawed at his spirit would be a better choice. Clearing his throat quietly, he got up from his seat.

"Maybe we should call it quits here," he said, looking at Thorne. "I know we are skipping Academy today, but it's not long past noon yet."

Thorne nodded in agreement, catching on to Kieran’s hint. He turned to their leader. "We’ll head out now. Take your time, alright?"

Illan looked up, his expression softening. "Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need to finish this," he said, raising his half-empty mug.

The bulkier of the two almost immediately listened, giving their leader a nod and leaving to the tavern's door. Soon enough, the leaner blonde followed.

...

Illan sipped his beer. The bitter taste washed down his throat with a chilly sensation. Staring at the remainder of the liquid blankly, he couldn't help but remind himself of the situation from Saturday. He, a 4th-circle Mage, was knocked out cold in a single strike by Aveline. The very thought made him shiver. It was ridiculous how fragile Mages were. There was no possible way for him to duel Karis on equal grounds.

Lost in his thoughts, Illan barely registered the ambient noise of the tavern. The clinking of glasses and murmured conversations faded into the background as he pondered his predicament.

...

"Someone wants a change, I hear," a woman’s voice cut through the ambiance, piquing his attention.

Illan's head snapped in the direction of the voice. His eyes landed on a lone figure sitting at a table behind him, her face obscured by the shadow of her hood. He raised an eyebrow. "And just what would you know about that?"

"I know things," she replied, her back still turned to him. "Things someone like you might want to know."

Illan almost laughed. It was clear to him that she was either a charlatan trying to sell him dubious information or a shady merchant from some back alley. His expression hardened, and he spoke with a mix of amusement and derision. "Of course you do. But entertain me - what kind of information could you possibly have?"

"You’re not alone in your discontent. Many share your desire for change. What if I told you that your frustration isn’t just a futile dream?" her voice was calm, almost too smooth.

"I would tell you you are crazy," Illan almost snorted with ridicule.

"Does that mean you are as well?" she asked, and the man could swear there was a glint of laughter behind the woman's words. Or, perhaps, it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

"What do you want from me?" he asked. A strange curiosity underscored his tone.

"I know that look you give," the woman continued. "And I've heard that speech you did a thousand times. You want a change in this world. You are fed up with how things are. Am I wrong?"

"...go on," Illan said slowly. His vision was slightly blurry, but the woman's words were clear and precise. Although he knew that way of speech, he wanted to listen to her a little more. It sounded... just a little bit too interesting.

"High and low, dozens of others like you are present, hoping for a change yet afraid to take that first step. But what if there was someone capable of uniting them and making that change a reality? What if I told you there is a way for a Mage to beat a Swordsman without magic?"

Illan's almost chuckled at the question. It was unreasonable to even consider such a scenario. A Mage without magic was useless. A Swordsman would at least still have their muscles from training.

However, he leaned in slightly closer.

"Is that so? How would that be done?"

The woman shifted slightly, her hand moving toward her pocket. After a moment, she pulled out a small vial of orange liquid, holding it up. The dim light from the mana lamps caught the surface of the vial, casting a warm, shimmering glow over its contents.

Illan’s gaze fell on the vial. Its contents swirled enticingly as the woman shuffled it between her long fingers, almost daring him to reach for it.

"Tell me," the woman's voice brought his attention again. "Would you like to make a change?" she turned slightly, enough to reveal a glimpse of her face. Her dark eyes gleamed with an intense, penetrating focus.

-Meanwhile-

Lucas looked out the window of the assembly room. Thin streams of water ran down on the glass, signifying that his earlier concerns had come to fruition as rainfall had started. The dark silver overcast visible from his position seemed to stretch endlessly, only confirming that the rain would last.

He gazed at the clock on the wall. It showed that the assembly had been ongoing for roughly forty minutes. In truth, he wasn't even sure when the huge Ureliar man sitting opposite of him and the ginger-haired Melidan woman facing Alisha had finished their... could it be called 'bonding'? Lucas wasn't sure, and he sure didn't want to ponder on that.

"Well, then," Alisha's voice cut through his thoughts, the rustle of paper indicating she was adjusting its position on the table. "Let's do what Professor Schweizer asked us to, and try to brainstorm what direction we want to go in this year," she focused with slight intensity on Dorothea and Arand, her amber eyes glistening as she expected an answer.

The huge man was the first to react. Letting out a long sigh that seemed to deflate his form by half, he spoke, "I think the third option sounds the best. Transmutation is the baseline of alchemy. It's well documented, so the theoretic part should be easy. Most of all, we can pick just about anything to work with," he answered. His brown eyes flicked to Lucas. "And I think it'll be a good way to introduce our newcomer to how we operate," his lips curved in a smile.

Dorothea shrugged. "The big oaf ain't wrong, but a flexible subject will need many tests for confirmin'. That's a lotta different materials, eh? The first option is bettah," she shrugged. "More streamlined, less work."

The blonde woman nodded. Her hands were intertwined on the table, the dark green of her nail polish glimmering pleasantly in the light. However, she did not break the silence that arose, instead forming a slightly pondering expression.

'Both of them have points.' Lucas conceded, looking at the piece of paper on the table. Strewn on its surface were lines of text - the propositions from the petite teacher who entrusted them with choosing a task.

=Suggested topics:

1. The effects of temperature on the physical properties of Fer Metal and its reactivity in alchemy.

2. The use of Salis Mundus in stabilizing a chosen alchemical reaction.

3. Alchemical transmutation of common materials: Correlation between purity and reactance of substances.

4. Creation of arcane liquids: Comparison of methods on chosen materials.=

Lucas pondered for a moment. All four subjects called out to him in some way.

The first one - advocated by Dory - was as straightforward as possible. The material and premise were given: Fer Metal, a staple in alchemy, and its reaction to temperature. The subject was simple but exhaustive, with numerous properties to test. Lucas could easily see why Dorothea favored it.

The second one was rather straightforward, as well. Salis Mundus, known as the Alchemist's Salt, was one of the most common alchemical materials, even more prominent than Fer Metal. Its creation wasn't difficult, and its rather unique properties - well documented in many books - made it very prized, often viewed as an essential material in an Alchemist's kit. Working with such a well-documented and known material was bound to be rather easy.

The third one - which Arand wanted - focused on one of the most mythical aspects of alchemy. Transmutation of one material into another was a prominent cornerstone that was said to have started the entire class and branch of science as it was known. The most famous part of the subject - the transmutation of lead into iron, copper, silver, and finally gold - was likely the first thing one would think of when hearing the word 'alchemy'. Although 'common materials' likely had nothing to do with the grand transmutation line, Lucas found himself hooked on the idea nonetheless.

And then, there was the final topic, a complete wild card. Arcane liquids encompassed a broad category of substances that were a result of alchemy. Their creation methods varied, as did their effects. Nicillic Tears - an acid that could eat away at anything - had a long and complicated process to make it, usually taking many days of work to accomplish. For comparison, Lynic Roots extract - one of the ingredients for mana potions - was as simple as chopping the plants into pieces and boiling them in distilled water over a small fire for a few hours. Lucas felt both intrigued and daunted by the very thought.

"Lucas?" Alisha's voice pulled him back from his musings. "Are you listening?"

"Huh?" he blinked, refocusing on the blonde woman. "Sorry, I was lost in thought. What were you saying?"

"Did any subject catch your attention?" she asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, exposing more of her puffy cheek to him. Her amber eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"...I don't know," he shook his head, glancing at the Melidan woman before turning to the Ureliar man. "Everything has pros and cons."

"That’s what I was thinking," Alisha agreed. "The first option is a simple path. With everything laid out, it won’t take long to complete. The problem is Professor Schweizer won't be satisfied with half-measures. It will be theory-extensive," she glanced at Dory, who shrugged.

"Not to mention that it will need a very controlled environment," Arand chimed in. "Temperature fluctuates very easily, which means we'd need to use sophisticated equipment," his eyes flickered to Lucas. A question stirred within the bronze orbs, but the man decided against asking. "Which is why it will take some time. Especially the scope of the topic. It seems narrow, but just think about all the properties we'd need to measure," he turned to Alisha.

"Density, hardness, strength, flexibility," the blonde woman started counting. "Thermal conductivity, thermal expansion coefficient... electrical conductance and resistance... What do you think?" she suddenly turned to Lucas. "Anything more to add?"

"Well... magnetism, acoustic properties, I'd say... but none of those even touch the alchemical side," he answered slowly. "Acid and base resistance, reactance... there are many more that would need to be measured."

Alisha smiled, seemingly satisfied with his response. She nodded and turned to the others.

"Exactly. It looks simple, but we're looking at hours upon hours of meticulous work in carefully controlled conditions."

Dorothea remained silent, her face displaying a grimace that bordered on a pout. Her furrowed brows suggested she was deep in thought, likely formulating a counterpoint.

'...isn't this an opportunity?' he asked himself, quietly summoning his status. 'It's two-thirds full... let's try that.'

<They're right. I should concede.>

The bolt of psionic magic was fired in an instant. Lucas felt it bounce on the wall of Dorothea's mind once before lodging itself in an imperfection. For a second or so, it tried to penetrate the line of defense before finally making it through.

However, the next thing that happened perplexed him.

Dorothea's face contorted further, showing a brief surprise. At the same time, Lucas sensed that in her mind, the thought he injected shone for a moment before something stirred, extinguishing it. It was almost like the mind itself reacted to the alien thought.

'What...?'

He tried not to show his surprise as Dorothea placed a hand on the table.

"'Tis the part of the fun, eh?" she looked at Alisha. "Ye think ah can't do somethin' like that?"

'It connected, but she rejected it... Why?' Lucas wondered, casting a quick glance at Alisha.

"That's not the case," she shook her head. "It’s about time. The third year's schedule is packed on Thursdays and Fridays. That leaves only Tuesdays for practical work. I don’t know about Lucas’s schedule, but even if he can attend the other sessions, it’ll just be him and me. I don’t want to **** a newcomer to do the practical work alone," she looked at the white-haired man. "This is supposed to be a research project we can all contribute to equally."

Dorothea let out an exasperated sigh, shuffling in her seat and tugging at her robe to adjust it.

As the three continued their discussion, Lucas reflected on what had happened.

'The spell seemed to work, but it was rejected right after it did. It's a middle ground between success and failure... why?' he mused, studying Dorothea.

She seemed ordinary enough. Her interaction with Arand earlier had been unorthodox, but she was undoubtedly human. So why...?

'...Wait... let’s try something else.'

Lucas focused on Arand, preparing some words to use.

<It's pointless to bicker.>

The mental spell went forth, and it almost immediately connected. This time, however, it worked as it always had - it became a small light behind the wall of the man's mind.

'So it works...?' his gaze turned to Alisha. Doing his best to not let his eyes waver from her face, he repeated the skill. The result was the same. 'It works on them fine. Just what is different about Dory...?'

Deciding to cut his ponders short, Lucas focused more on the conversation.

"Oi, ye don't like it, fine," the ginger-haired woman shrugged in an almost aggressive way. "Just don't come to me yappin' and cryin' on how ah was right," she huffed, her expression slightly unpleasant.

"There's no 'right or wrong' here, Dory," Arand riposted, frowning. "It's a matter of agreement."

"Ya, agreement. And ye want to throw a wildcard at us, knowin' we won't have the time to stay 'round much, eh? What if ye screw up and have to redo it? Ye want to throw this work on a freshman?" she gazed at Lucas as though to emphasize her point. However, contrary to her sharp tone, the violet-eyed man didn't feel aggression from her stare. Rather, it felt vaguely compassionate.

"You know Professor. She wouldn't have agreed to him if he didn't have the skills," Arand immediately objected. "Which is why I think the third option is best. Not a complete wildcard like the fourth, but enough wiggle room to allow some brainstorming. We can divide the work between theory and practice more easily, and we all can contribute. The best of two worlds, I say."

Lucas listened intently to how Dorothea responded with a sharp tongue. As his gaze flickered to the voluptuous blonde to his left, a sudden thought entered his mind.

'Is it because she doesn't speak Siles fluently?'

The primary language of Melidan, Sinel, was a dialect of Siles. Even without having learned it properly, Lucas could understand what Dorothea was saying to an extent, and the remainder could be taken from the context of the sentence. However, a thought that never occurred to him was how different people thought.

Deciding to test his theory further, Lucas crafted a spell tailored to Dorothea's speech pattern.

<Big oaf has a point. No point bickerin'.>

The lance of mental magic rushed, immediately lodging itself in Dorothea's mind like a knife into meat. Pressing onward relentlessly, it slipped inside the confines of her mind and lit up as a thought within. As a few seconds passed, he sensed faintly nothing more happened on the other side.

Looking at the hazel-eyed woman, he noticed not a change in her behavior. Lucas let out a faint sigh he didn't know he held. It seemed his assumption was correct.

However, doing something once was not guaranteed to be the answer. Therefore, he used the skill twice more, with slightly different suggestions while maintaining the same style of speech. They also worked.

'All of a sudden, I'm glad I didn't try to use it on Seraphina earlier.' Lucas thought. This was an important piece of information for the future. 'Finding out what language someone speaks will be imperative in future uses. The catch is, I don't know exactly which I'd have to use when someone is bilingual like Nimue.'

A sensation of warmth spread in his chest at the thought of the maid.

'...I wonder.' he thought, looking through the window. The rainfall seemed to increase in intensity by the second, and as he activated Keen Senses, a sound of distant rumbling came to his ears. 'I hope she's doing alright.'

His lips curved in a benign smile as his eyes closed. He imagined the pretty, black-haired elf strutting like he'd seen her many times before. How her ears raised when she smiled, and how unbearably cute she looked. How her earthy green eyes glistened with the subtle wit hidden underneath. How she smelled and how her body felt against his when they hugged...

"Oi, Lucas!" Dorothea's sharp tone snapped him out of his reverie. "Ye sleepin'?"

"!" Lucas's eyes snapped open, his expression startled. His gaze traveled to the ginger-haired woman, meeting hers. "S-Sorry, I was lost in thought."

His reaction immediately found purchase in Alisha giggling softly. Looking at her, Lucas noticed the scrutinizing gaze of her amber eyes. She was gauging his reactions. Her half-full lips seemed ready to part to speak, but she remained quiet as she turned her attention to the dark-skinned man.

"Well, then, how about we make a definitive decision?" Arand asked, his voice a bit louder than before. "I'm in for the third option, as is Alisha. Dory wants to do the first one. What say you?" his brow raised as he scrutinized the white-haired man.

Lucas looked at the paper briefly again.

"I don't have any strong... inclinations," he said slowly. "If you two are alright with the third topic, so am I."

Arand let out a short breath and turned to Dorothea with a smile.

"Told ya, ya menace," he gave her a light elbow jab, seemingly signifying his victory.

Dorothea's eyes focused on the white-haired man, ignoring the Ureliar man. Something within the hazel points seemed to stir. A brief silence between the two caused a shiver to travel down Lucas's spine. What he knew of Dorothea told him that this stare could be a preparation for a lunge.

However, contrary to his expectations of an outburst, the Melidan woman only sighed.

"Ah well, can't always have what ye want," she shrugged, disappointed but conceding. "Fine, third option it is. How we splittin' the work?" her hazel eyes sparkled with the question as she looked at Alisha.

"Well, about that," the blonde turned to Lucas. "Our second assembly per week is scheduled on Thursdays, from 13 to 16. How does your schedule look on that day?"

"...I should end early," he said, trying to remember. "I will be there."

"Alright, then. I think that, since me and Lucas will be present, we can start and handle the basic theory. Then, we can meet the next Tuesday and think about this more clearly. Once we agree on what transmutation we want to analyze first," she turned to the other two. "You can begin with the practice while we handle the results. Is this framework alright with you all?" her brow raised, the amber eyes flickering between the three. Her puffy cheeks seemed to inflate slightly as though she held half a breath.

'I can see why they agreed to have Alisha be the leader of the group.' Lucas realized, eyeing the voluptuous woman briefly. 'She's quick to split the work and plan out what to do. I wonder what's her class.'

Arand was the first to give a sound. With a resonating hum, the man smiled and nodded. "It's alright by me. We can iron things out later."

"Ya," Dorothea agreed. "No problem with me on that."

'I expected Dory to be reacting more... vividly.' thought Lucas as he analyzed her demeanor. Despite what she did with Arand not even an hour ago, she now seemed calm and collected. Even when defending her points earlier, she didn't raise her voice, and all the aggressiveness stemming from her tone could easily be attributed to her accent. 'There seems to be a clear line where she stops herself.'

He turned to Alisha as he felt her stare at him. Realizing that she was waiting for his opinion, he nodded. "I'm alright with that as well."

The blonde woman's smile widened. "I'm glad we all agree."

"Well, if that's all," Arand said after a few seconds. "We can leave, hmm?" he looked at Alisha, searching for approval.

"Yes, sitting around more isn't necessary," she nodded. Then, she turned to Dorothea. "Dory, do you want to stay here?"

"Nah," the redhead replied. "Ah need to go home. Find me if ye need me," she got up immediately. With a quick motion, she fixed her robe and hair before doing a fist bump with Arand. Then, she looked at Lucas. "Oi, nice meetin' ye, Lucas," she did a small handwave.

"Yes, likewise," he nodded in response. He noticed a gleam of positivity in Dorothea's gaze as the woman looked at the group's leader before exiting the room with a short 'Bye', leaving the three alone.

Arand got up as well.

"Much as I'd like to stay, I also have things to do elsewhere," he glanced to Alisha, who got up and walked to the alembic she had brewed her tea in previously. "Good thing we managed to get things planned the first time around."

The blonde woman hummed. "A tight schedule?" she asked without turning to face the man, her hand grabbing a scoop and removing the burner crystals from beneath the construct.

"Unfortunately," he sighed, swiping his dark hair and fixing his robe. "I have some classes starting at 17 and must return to the faculty. I'll try to research some before next week," Arand focused on Lucas. "That being said, welcome to the group, Lucas. I hope you'll find yourself at home here," he extended a hand.

Lucas stood up, accepting the gesture. "Thank you for having me here."

Arand smiled warmly before looking toward the window. His expression soured at the sight of rain. With a quiet sigh, he said his goodbyes and left.

Then, thick silence permeated the room, only broken by the pitter-patter of the still-brewing storm. A rumbling sound entered Lucas's ears, signaling that the central part of the storm had not yet reached the city.

He looked at Alisha. What immediately came to his attention was that the woman was turned away from him, standing by a window and looking at the landscape of Weydan below. The curtain of blonde that hid her back did not reach her bottom, letting Lucas see its rather nicely pronounced shape pushing against her robe.

However, he opted against ogling. Standing up, he felt his body begin to recuperate from sitting in the hard wooden chair.

"If I may, do you have any plans for now, Lucas?" Alisha's voice broke the silence, gentle yet carrying a note of curiosity. She had turned her head slightly, just enough for him to glimpse at her profile. The delicate line of her jaw, the faint curve of her lips, and one eye peeking out from beneath her hair gave her a naturally alluring look.

"Not exactly," he shook his head. 'I've done the search I wanted... well, almost. But for some reason, I feel that Eamon's family won't come up in any books about Inallel's lineages...' "My lectures have already finished."

"I see," Alisha nodded thoughtfully, pivoting a little more to face him. Her gaze wandered briefly over the several alchemical machines spread across the tables to her right. "It seems everything is in order," she mused, her eyes narrowing slightly as if double-checking. "How about we go out?" she focused on the man, her hand raised slightly, the key to the room between her fingers.

---

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