Chapter 39 - The Plan

After replying with a simple “YES” the following day, things moved quickly.
Within a few days of back-and-forth communication, they arranged for him to leave with a merchant caravan the next week. Fortunately, the weather began improving rapidly, and the last remnants of snow vanished. They were replaced by mud, but a few days of sunshine should harden the roads enough for travel.
Arien informed Ythrel about his departure, thanking him for the work and the opportunity to learn, while also asking him not to tell anyone. He feared Terlis, irritated by the loss of cheap labor, might decide to cause problems. He planned to inform the Secretary through a letter Sari would deliver to the Town Hall once he was already a day outside the city.
Packing took very little time, mostly because he owned very little.
Into his large backpack he stuffed several sets of clothes and the first-aid kit Ythrel had given him: a couple of clay jars of ointment, three rolls of bandages, and two anti-diarrhea elixirs. According to the Healer, stomach sickness, not bandits, was one of the leading causes of death on the kingdom’s roads.
He also managed to cram in some dried travel rations, a set of wooden utensils, a sewing kit, and a length of rope. The backpack was filled to the brim.
Fortunately, he would be riding on a wagon for most of the journey, so he wouldn’t actually have to carry it.
Then he had to unpack everything again after being scolded by Alia, who disapproved of how carelessly he’d stuffed away the things she had neatly folded. Eventually she threw him out of the room, insisting she would pack it properly herself.
He merely shrugged and headed toward the Piglet, where he had intended to go anyway. Sari had told him to come by in the afternoon, claiming it was important.
Within minutes he was inside the tavern whose every corner he knew by heart, greeting the regulars sipping beer at the counter.
During seasons when trade slowed due to weather, the Piglet was frequented mostly by locals: master craftsmen, Town Hall officials, and wealthier farmers. They usually sat there until midnight complaining about taxes, their wives, their health, and the weather.
Taxes were too high.
Their wives constantly nagged and wanted to change things around the house.
Their health wasn’t what it used to be.
And the weather was either too cold or too hot, depending on the season.
Today was no different. The same group sat around telling the same stories they’d already shared dozens of times.
“Sari’s with Lady Vylda,” Mili called from behind the counter while pouring another mug. He nodded gratefully.
The boisterous waitress, whom he’d grown fond of over the years, was apparently getting married soon and moving to a nearby village. Sari joked that her future husband had no idea what awaited him.
Arien ran up the stairs to the first floor and headed for the owner’s room. He knocked lightly.
“Arien? Come in.”
He slipped inside at the sound of his sister’s voice.
He had always found it strange that Lady Vylda, whose business was clearly thriving, and Arien knew this firsthand from preparing the Roasted Pig’s financial reports, lived in only two small rooms.
True, they were tastefully furnished, far more elegantly than Terlis’s office, but they were still smaller than the apartment he shared with his sisters.
“Good day, boy.” Lady Vylda sat in her favorite armchair, soaking her swollen feet in a wooden basin. Sari stood beside her.
“Good afternoon, Lady Vylda. I hope Master Ythrel’s ointments helped and your legs hurt a little less?”
“Oh yes, yes. They hurt just little enough that I could probably jump out the window and end these pointless sufferings once and for all,” the old woman said with her usual sarcasm.
“Lady Vylda! We talked about saying things like that,” Sari protested.
“Alright, alright, sweetcake. You react like a virgin on her wedding night. Look at your brother, he’s completely unbothered by my chatter.”
Arien merely smiled.
He had long since grown accustomed to Vylda’s sharp tongue, and comments like that no longer affected him. She never spoke that way to invite pity. Her jokes sounded more like a challenge thrown at the pain itself. When he had cancer, he’d discovered that many patients used dark humor as a way of coping with reality.
“I’m afraid from that height you wouldn’t shorten your suffering, Lady Vylda. You’d only add to it.”
“Ha ha ha! You’re right, boy. Poison really would be the better choice.”
“Lady Vylda!”
“Alright, alright. Enough about me, that’s not why we’re here. I hear you’re leaving our lovely little town.”
Arien glanced at Sari, wondering how much she had told her employer.
Vylda, meanwhile, studied him with a piercing stare, waiting for an answer.
“I asked Lady Vylda for advice. I told her about your Status and the Academy,” Sari admitted. “Lady Vylda knows a lot about the world. She might be able to help.”
Arien’s irritation lasted only a few seconds.
Sari kept her attention on the towel, smoothing out a fold that did not need smoothing. She knew how carefully he had guarded that secret.
Still, if she had chosen anyone in Ribenne to tell, Vylda was probably the safest choice.
“Those constantly analyzing green eyes,” the older woman chuckled. “Don’t be angry with Sari. I suspected long ago that you had managed it.”
“In that case, thank you for not sharing that information with anyone else.”
“And why do you assume I haven’t?” she asked mildly. “The information alone could earn me quite a tidy sum from the right people.”
“Because nobody kidnapped me or approached me with any offers,” he answered honestly. “Besides, I doubt that sum would actually be very large for you.”
“Oh really? I know the tavern’s profits may seem like a great deal of money to you, but to the wider world, they’re laughable scraps.”
“Maybe the Piglet alone. But minority shares in nearly half the taverns, businesses, and trading posts in Ribenne amount to a much larger sum.”
“What?” Sari blurted out.
“Well now,” the old woman laughed. “And where did you get that idea?”
“I had access to the financial reports submitted to the city. Many businesses filed their accounts in remarkably similar ways. It only took a bit of digging and basic arithmetic to uncover certain connections between them. These establishments cooperated with one another, offering preferential prices and supply priority. In every case there was also a silent minority partner. Those same connections extend to this respectable establishment, even though officially you are the sole owner.”
Vylda stared at him long enough that Arien began to wonder whether he had made a mistake. Then she clapped her hands and laughed.
“Excellent. What a shame we’re losing you, though you truly would waste away in Ribenne. Why are you staring like that, Sari? Didn’t your brother let you in on it?” she asked. “Though that’s good. One shouldn’t go around spreading other people’s secrets,” she added, winking at him.
“But then why do you always make me negotiate with our suppliers?” Sari asked in wounded disbelief.
“Because it’s good practice for you, and appearances must be maintained. Of course, anyone who matters in this town has known about me for years. Once I even considered expanding into other cities, but that would’ve required frequent travel, and I absolutely hate traveling. Ah yes, there was a time when I was terribly hungry for wealth and influence.” She smirked. “What are you looking at me like that for? Everyone is young and stupid once. Besides, the ‘game’ of influence was great fun to me.”
“Was?” Arien asked curiously.
Vylda shifted one swollen foot in the basin. Water rippled around her ankle, catching the light from the window.
“For people like us, there’s a ceiling we can never break through no matter how hard we try. Once I realized the entire ‘game’ had been rigged from the beginning to ensure I lost, I stopped playing.”

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“Who were you playing against, and who rigged it?” he asked.
“You’ll discover that in time, dear boy. I won’t ruin the fun for you. These days my favorite activity is peeling potatoes on the veranda. I never imagined something so simple could be relaxing.” She waved dismissively. “But enough about me. Tell me, boy, what’s your plan?” she asked sharply.
Arien remained silent for a long time, weighing how much he could tell her. He had known for a while that Vylda was secretly pulling the strings of the town, competing for influence with Hugo and Terlis. Sari always spoke of the woman in superlatives, treating her like a favorite aunt, or a grandmother they had never had.
He could refuse to reveal his plans and set off on his journey beyond the woman’s reach. The problem was, his plans were vague and based on very little reliable information. Vylda knew far more about the capital than he did. He had little to lose and much to gain. He decided, this time, to rely on his sister’s intuition.
“I didn’t just unlock the System, I also possess mana. I intend to get into the Academy and learn as much as I can before joining any Faction,” he admitted.
“That’s it?” the woman asked, clearly unimpressed.
“My friend’s brother is about to graduate from the Academy. I was planning to consult him once I arrive in Wayhold as well.”
“Those are very… vague plans.”
“It’s hard to get reliable information about the capital or the Academy in Ribenne,” he replied bitterly.
“Fine, fine.” Her tone softened. “I sometimes forget you’re eight. Don’t worry, I’ll help you. Sari, dear, could you bring me some herbal tea?”
Sari helped Vylda lift her feet from the basin and wrapped them in a towel before picking up the water.
“Of course, Lady Vylda. Thank you for your help, you’re wonderful. I knew we could count on you.”
The door closed behind her. From the tavern below came the muffled clink of mugs and a sudden burst of laughter.
“What a wonderful girl,” Vylda murmured, watching her leave. “She’s far too good for this world. I fear what will happen to her when I’m gone.”
“Sari will manage. She’s stronger than she looks. If she weren’t, she wouldn’t have run away from home.”
“Yes… perhaps you’re right. But we’re drifting from the topic again. The capital will chew you up and spit you out before you turn ten.”
“But—”
“Boy.” Her voice sharpened as she cut him off. “There are hundreds like you in the kingdom every year. Intelligent enough to rise above their peers, but not enough to understand the forces that govern the world. They think they can walk into the capital, take a seat at the table, and never be asked to pay. You unlocked the System, you have mana, you’ve gained a few levels, and now you think the Factions, with all their resources, won’t resort to bribery, blackmail, or outright coercion?”
She leaned forward slightly.
“All it takes is the first person with influence to force you into signing documents that seal your fate. Your only chance is to join one of the Factions and negotiate the best terms you can. Maybe in twenty years your position will be strong enough to renegotiate. Don’t fool yourself into expecting more.”
Arien didn’t like hearing it, largely because he could see the logic in what she was saying.
“What if I’m a little more special than the others?” he asked.
“You think so?” she said, intrigued.
“Let’s say someone with an ordinary Influence Skill couldn’t easily force me. Would that change anything?”
“A little.” Vylda studied him closely. “But you’d still need something that sets you apart and makes the Factions compete for you.”
“Hm… how rare is an eight-year-old boy with three assigned Aspects?”
Vylda’s fingers went still on the armrest. Vylda stared at him. When Arien said nothing, she burst out laughing.
“You’re not lying,” she said after a moment. “I have a skill that’s hard to bypass. Not one I’d recommend, by the way. It’s very hard to live when you always know you’re being lied to, especially by those closest to you. I separated from my husband two months after I received it. Three is enough to make them take the risk. One of the Factions will try to bind you before another can.”
Vylda pushed herself upright so abruptly that the towel slipped from her knees.
“Wait… is one of them the Life Aspect?”
He nodded, wondering if he had already said too much.
“So you’ve been casting spells on me without permission while you were doing those compresses?” she asked sharply.
He swallowed hard.
“Relax,” she added quickly. “I’m joking. But as an apology, you’ll cast a few more spells after our conversation, alright?”
“Of course.”
“That changes things. A Life Mage is too valuable to damage unnecessarily. They’ll try to win you over before they resort to force, but don’t mistake that for freedom. Eventually, they’ll still expect you to choose. Don’t delude yourself.”
The latch clicked, and Sari entered balancing a tray. The sharp scent of herbs followed her into the room.
“I’m already here, Lady Vylda. Did I miss something?”
The discussion lasted until dusk. Sari refilled the teapot twice while Arien covered sheet after sheet with notes: Faction rivalries, the hierarchy of noble houses, traps hidden in contracts, names to remember, and names to avoid.
By the time the light faded from the windows, his fingers ached, the tea had gone cold, and Vylda had only seemed to gather momentum. Arien regretted that he hadn’t thought to seek her advice years ago.
“Well then, young mage, it’s time for payment,” the woman said as dusk fell.
Sari looked at her in surprise.
“I’m supposed to apply compresses to Lady Vylda’s legs,” Arien explained.
“Together with magic,” she added.
“Together with magic,” he repeated. “That might actually be interesting. I’ve always had to hold myself back. I assume I can use a bit more mana than usual?”
“By all means,” she chuckled.
A few minutes later, he was kneeling on the floor, hands resting on the woman’s knees, focusing on the magic flowing through her body. Normally, he flooded damaged areas with mana as quickly as possible, directing it where to go. Now, with time, he slowly sent out tiny pulses of mana, and in his mind a map gradually formed: veins, arteries, muscles, bones, joints, and cartilage.
He wasn’t an expert in anatomy, but fortunately he didn’t need to be. Thanks to the Life Aspect, he could see which structures were damaged or malfunctioning.
He began wrapping each damaged area in a thin layer of mana, shaping small cocoons around the strained joints, worn cartilage, and inflamed tissue. Once every damaged structure was enclosed, he connected the entire network with a single thick thread of energy and allowed it to distribute his mana evenly.
His reserves plunged. Within moments, almost nothing remained.
He broke the connection and exhaled deeply, realizing he was completely drenched in sweat. He tried to stand, but dizziness struck him, and he would have fallen if Sari hadn’t caught him in time. With her help, he slowly sat down on the floor.
“Water,” he croaked. He was desperately thirsty, feeling as if he had just run a marathon. His whole body ached. He was handed a glass and drank it in several large gulps. “More.”
As Sari refilled his glass from the carafe, Vylda leaned forward and carefully rose from her chair. She stood there for a moment, staring at her legs and slowly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, more surprised than relieved. “I had almost forgotten what it feels like to stand without pain. Boy… how long will this last? When will the pain return?”
“I don’t know,” he replied after finishing the second glass. “It’s the first time I’ve done something like this. I focused on isolating the damaged structures. The symptoms shouldn’t return for at least a few months, as long as you don’t overexert yourself, my lady. But age still takes its toll, degeneration may appear elsewhere.”
“Several months without pain?” she said quietly. “Boy… you have no idea what a gift that is.”
“I do,” he muttered under his breath.
During certain weeks in the hospital, even the strongest painkillers hadn’t worked.
The old woman studied him closely but said nothing.
“Does the healer Ythrel know this method?” Sari asked. “Maybe we could tell him after you leave. Who knows when you’ll return, and Lady Vylda won’t be able to reach the capital.”
“If Ythrel had the Aspect of Life, he wouldn’t be in Ribenne,” the old woman answered for him. “Arien is incredibly fortunate to possess such a valuable Aspect at such a young age.”
“Is it better than Fire?” Sari asked, surprised.
“Oh, so that’s your second Aspect?” Vylda said. “Fire is fine for battle mages, but otherwise quite useless. And very common. I’ve never seen exact numbers, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were fifty Fire mages for every one Life mage. If I were thirty years younger, I wouldn’t let you leave this town. Ah… what a wonderful thought. Sari, prepare a bath. Let the boy rest and wash up. He’s earned it.”
Sometime later, lying in a huge bath that felt almost unreal for his size, he finally allowed himself to relax in the hot water. He was clean, his plan had begun to take shape, and perhaps it could truly work.
But what filled him with the most joy was his first real use of magic. For the first time, he had been able to focus entirely on shaping mana instead of merely forcing it toward an injury. That was closer to what he had always imagined magic would feel like.
What would he be capable of in a few years?
He smiled and looked at the notification he had ignored until now.

Possible Skill Specialization: Life Aspect, level 25
Mass Healer: improves understanding of Life magic; casting Life spells requires significantly less mana and effort.
Self-Regeneration: improves understanding of Life magic; healing others is limited, but your own body holds no secrets, allowing you to actively heal yourself even in battle. Limited future specializations.
Healer: improves understanding of Life magic; reduces mana cost and increases efficiency; broader range of future specializations.
Kings’ Healer: improves understanding of Life magic; significantly increases effectiveness at the cost of higher mana consumption. Allows extension of others’ lifespans.
Life Soldier: improves understanding of Life magic; allows you to protect allies and destroy Death-aligned soldiers. Limited future specializations.

 
He let out a pained groan. Five choices. And each of them seemed useful.
Mass Healer would suit both a city clinic healer and a battle mage using Life magic as a support tool.
Self-Regeneration. If anyone understood the value of a healthy body, it was him. There had been days in the hospital when simply walking to the bathroom felt like a victory. The thought of never again being helpless inside his own body was tempting. But it was a selfish choice.
Healer was the most universal, but also the least specialized.
Kings’ Healer would make any Faction drool the moment they saw it. It might also make them far less willing to let him walk away.
And Life Soldier sounded like something made for an Explorer. Not to mention that he had no idea what Death-aligned soldiers actually were. Liches, zombies, or something else entirely?
Sometimes he wished the System only offered two choices and one of them clearly superior.
He pondered the choice for so long that the water in the bath had gone cold. At last, he closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and made his decision.
Vylda had spent the last few hours reminding him how dangerous it was to commit before he understood his options.
Healer was not the strongest option in any single direction, but it was efficient and left him the widest range of future specializations.
Arien still knew too little to close any of those paths.
He selected Healer, savoring the energy spreading through his body.