"Sir," Sebastian began, hands twisting beneath the desk, "I wondered if I could ask you something."

Master Lambert lowered his quill. He perched his spectacles up onto his creased forehead and peered at Sebastian, resting his chin in his steepled hands. "Questions are a wise man's adventure."

"Er, yes, I suppose so."

Eyes twinkling, Lambert inclined his head, urging him onwards. Sebastian sat on his fingers to keep them still, glancing down at the Scribal story he'd been working on translating. Every single story written in the ancient language breathed of magic. Magic that spoke of the impossible as if it were a possible reality. Rational, even. He'd been reading them for the past two days now, though rare were the times that Master Lambert sat and worked alongside him, but how should he phrase his questions without seeming completely mental?

Abel's illness. His mother's death. Come to think of it, even his father's.

That strange girl had claimed Abel's illness had been his fault.

Even he couldn't deny the common denominator that had been present for all those misfortunes.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "The Scribes believed in elemental magic, didn't they? I mean, these stories of the Elementi, dragons, merpeople, they weren't simply stories to them. They wrote them to be true. After all, Scribes were the original historians, were they not?"

Lambert leaned back against his chair. "Humans have always needed a way to explain the impossible. Why could that explanation not be magic?"

"Because it does not exist! Historians shouldn't record a false history; no one would ever know from where they truly came."

"It does not exist to you," Lambert corrected. "Histories are subjective with the victors having the most control over it. It could be argued we have been conditioned to believe a history that is entirely one-sided. Therefore, one could conclude, there may be those that find our truth as improbable as you find the Scribes'."

Sebastian hadn't yet decided if he found his new mentor to be adequately challenging or completely tiresome. A dull thud began to take shape behind his eyes. "So, you're saying magic could exist? In another history that is not our own?"

"I would think a true scholar, such as yourself, would conclude his own answers to questions such as that one." Lambert only offered him a small wink as he reached over and began to roll up the scroll Sebastian had been working on all morning.

Sebastian scowled against his growing headache and bewilderment and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Magic, he scoffed to himself. He was being utterly preposterous. But even as he thought it, a laugh that very much resembled Abel's echoed against the carefully constructed bookshelves of his brain.

Master Lambert had already locked the scroll into one of the many safes behind his desk. He turned his attention back to Sebastian with a wisened grin. "Care to join me for lunch, young d'Aximos?"

O O O

Sebastian couldn't quite believe he stood, once more, outside the entrance to Tuddle & Totts.

To be fair, in the daylight, the establishment appeared just a little bit charming. Flower pots bloomed with yellow poppies and white edelweiss even though snow from the previous night dripped from the thatched rooftop. A set of wind chimes hung from the wooden sign, and they tinkled merrily in the chilly breeze. Sebastian craned his neck to see around Master Lambert, glancing at the alleyway he'd explored those nights ago.

He wondered if he would still be able to make out the image of Norham's Black Quill.

Lambert must have spotted his slight frown because he said, "Not to worry, son. The pub is quite harmless before sunset. We can go through the main entrance."

Sebastian wished to ask what exactly made Tuddle & Totts harmful in the first place, but he'd already grown accustomed to his mentor's habit of vague answers. Besides, Lambert had already waltzed through the propped open door with a chuckle as he shook out his cloak and placed it onto a hanging rack just inside the doorway. Sebastian hurried after him.

He had just crossed over the threshold when the hairs on the back of his neck ruffled and straightened. Sebastian shivered. What was it about this place that made him feel like all eyes were on him?

There were no Iced Guards off duty at this hour, so the bar was sparsely filled with local patrons. Lambert helped him out of his heavy cloak and shooed him off to the empty far corner. "That's my table over there. Go on and make yourself comfortable. I'll get us a few pints and venison stew. Think your Eilibir fish's stomach can handle the richness of mountain cooking?"

"Deer are actually quite popular in Eilibir," Sebastian said.

Lambert guffawed at that and bounced away towards the bar. Sebastian shook off the discomfort of being left alone in such a place and made his way towards the table. It was thick and round, a single candle sputtering out a meager light in the center of the stained oak. Sebastian took a seat on the short bench that was built into the corner. On the wall behind him was a woven tapestry of coarse yarn. It scratched the top knob of his spine, so he angled himself to observe it instead.

It appeared to be a generational tree of some sort, though there were no family names written into it to identify any of the faces on it. There were only symbols--family crests, perhaps--with curved initials beneath each one. On the last genealogy line, it appeared as if one of the offspring had been singed off of it. A burned, jagged hole in its place instead.

Sebastian snorted to himself. Perhaps it was Abel's family line. It seemed like something her father would do to burn off any evidence of unwanted children.

"Makes one wonder what that poor woman did to deserve such a fate," Lambert remarked, placing a pint of amber mead in front of Sebastian.

Sebastian looked over at him. "Was it a woman, then?"

Lambert took a sniff of his drink before he sipped at it. "So goes the village rumor mill," he said. "The commissioner of the tapestry wished to keep some discretion in regards to his family. Either that or he hoped the mystery would increase the value of the piece for resale."

"How'd it get here?"

"It's mine actually. I bought it during my travels in my earlier years. Bought it for hardly anything, too!" Lambert laughed into his tankard. "Would have paid more for it, mind you. I've always enjoyed a good mystery."

Sebastian nodded. He could relate to that, at least. "Abel brought a genealogy from Norham's personal collection. Perhaps I'll look at it and solve this mystery tonight."

"Doesn't sound like Norham to give away one of his precious books."

"Well, Abel doesn't exactly play by the normal rules of propriety."

A knowing smile trickled across his features. "Your lady friend sounds fascinating. I'm glad she recovered so nicely from taking ill."

"I just wish I knew how."

Lambert's gaze glinted like gold from behind his thick-wired spectacles. "Sounds like Scribal magic, one could say."

Sebastian bit his cheek but hid the nervous tick behind a slight scowl. That's what he was afraid of, to be honest. When a barmaid approached their table with two bowls of steaming stew, Sebastian was surprised to find he recognized her. The long-haired auburn woman with a face like a mare's. She grinned at Sebastian and winked at Lambert as he tossed her a gold coin.

"Smells delicious as always, Alma," he said.

"Sorry there's no bread teh go with it. Bit o' flour shortage this season." Alma leaned a round hip against the edge of their table and turned towards Sebastian with a sly twist to her red lips. "Girl's asked teh see yeh."

Sebastian blinked. "I think you're mistaken, ma'am."

"Hardly," Alma said. "She described yeh an' everythin'. Only one here with skin like yehrs."

Perhaps it was simply Abel; she was the only girl he knew here, after all. Though why she wouldn't just strut over to the table and barge in on the conversation was beyond him. Sebastian sighed and glanced at Lambert who hid his grin behind the tankard of mead.

"It's never good to keep a woman waiting," he said.

Unsure of what he was getting into, Sebastian stood and followed Alma.

"Is she alright?" he asked.

"Perfectly fine lookin' if that's what yerh askin'."

"That's not what I was—"

But Alma was already out of range. He maneuvered himself between tables, struggling to keep up with Alma's long, sure strides. They made their way to the front of the bar, and when Alma passed by it and behind it, Sebastian hesitated. He could see where she was taking him. To the hallway Sebastian had walked through on his first trip here, the one with shadowed alcoves and rustling curtains.

If it was Abel, Sebastian planned on murdering her for making such a ridiculous, embarrassing scene.

Alma had already disappeared around the bend, so Sebastian hurried after her, stopping in front of a musky-smelling scarlet drape. Alma smirked at him and held back the curtain.

"Go on, then. Enjoy yehrself."

Sebastian's nerves tripled, but before he could move on his own—most likely to rush back to Master Lambert's table—a translucent thread of energy attached to his navel. Sebastian blinked at it. It wavered in the empty air, glinting on and off in wispy waves. His heart thudded painfully twice before whatever sort of specter that thread happened to be yanked. The last he heard was Alma's tinkling laughter before the curtain swung shut behind him.

Silence pressed on him as the wispy thread pulled him chest-to-chest with the girl inside.

Holy Hel's Abyss!

He stared down at her, for she was shockingly short this close to him, blinking rapidly as if it would help his brain catch up to these turn of events; yet, it didn't stop the irrational sense of fear, apprehension, and—dare he say it—excitement that flushed through his veins.

Whatever thread had yanked him to her released him and disappeared back into the air when she smirked. "No need to look so dumbfounded. I did warn you we'd be meeting again."

Sebastian stumbled backwards. Her dark hood was gone and replaced with the white furs of the Iced Guards. He could even make out the fish scale armor underneath the cloak that was clasped into place beneath her chin with a silver pin in the shape of a dagger. Her hair was twisted into braids on top of her head, a curious shade of blonde that seemed almost silver.

She was much smaller than her mystifying persona made her appear to be.

Even smaller for an Iced Guard of Rainier.

Then again, he'd grown up enough with Abel to know that looks could be deceiving.

"How?" He rubbed his hand against his navel. "How did you do that?"

"I followed you. For most of the morning, in fact. Though I fear I cannot claim all the credit. You made it exceptionally easy."

"No, I meant—" Sebastian cut himself off at the mocking grin that flickered across her finely-boned face. He was being ridiculous again. To think he'd even entertained the idea that she had manipulated an invisible force to drag him inside. Ridiculous.

His hand fell back to his side. "You're a guard."

"And you have the bare minimum requirements for mediocre observance. Congratulations." She crossed her arms with an expression that seemed to stare down at him even though her brow barely came to his shoulder.

"I would like to know what you're doing here."

"What do you mean?" His head spun. "You're the one who requested my company, I believe."

The girl scoffed. "Not here. Here. As in Rainier. Halorium. What is your purpose?"

It was difficult to find adequate responses under the directness of her attention. He blinked at her, his fingers twisting into the stiff material of his pants. If he kept blinking like this, she was sure to think he was diseased.

"You saw me in the library." He cleared his throat. "I'm training to be an apprentice with Master Lambert."

"That cannot truly be the entirety of it."

Sebastian tried not to recoil when she circled him in the same manner a predator would a rabbit.

"I, for one, can attest to the fact that Master Lambert is hardly that fascinating. Eccentric, maybe, but his lessons alone have been known to produce more snores than anything else."

Sebastian's nerves could only allow him to shrug. "When my ma passed, I came here. It was her dream for me, I think." His brain burned with all the questions he held for this girl. It could be the only excuse as to why his impoliteness got the better of him. "What did you mean when you said I had been killing Abel?"

She quirked her head, her gaze flinty, at best, as it raked him from head to toe. "You said your mother died. When?"

It hurt to think about, but it was also shocking to realize it had not been all that long ago. So much had happened since. It felt like a different life entirely. Sebastian cleared his throat.

"Nearly a full moon's ago now."

"From what?"

Sebastian's heart twisted. He was certainly positive this girl had the ability to find his weakness and plunge a dagger into it. "I...I don't know."

Her eyes bore into the side of his neck, so he stared at the wall behind her. It provided a brief respite just lengthy enough for his earlier thoughts to run back to haunt him. My pa. Mother. Abel. He swallowed and looked back at her.

"You helped Abel. Healed her, even. If you know what made her so ill, you must tell me. Please."

She stopped before him. "What is your name?"

"Sebastian," he said in a rush lest she forgot his question. "Sebastian d'Aximos."

The girl seemed to mull that over, her tongue clicking against her teeth. "Well, Seabass, I suspect that whoever killed your mother was the same one that attacked your friend."

"Personification." Sebastian's chest thumped in the quiet space between them. "You speak of the illness as if it were something living."

"Wasn't it the ancient Head Healer Enzo Beulgravia who claimed nearly two centuries ago that all bacteria are living organisms?

It was difficult to hide his shock over the fact that she knew such a thing off the top of her head. There weren't many in Eilibir who even knew the infamous healer's name. He grasped onto it. At least Enzo made logical sense.

"Though bacteria are not viruses," Sebastian pointed out, "the debate over their status is still ongoing."

A smirk threatened the edges of her lips. "A scholar, indeed," she teased. "For the sake of this argument, the force that disabled your friend was very much alive."

The clarity Enzo Beulgravia had brought to him dropped nearly as quickly as it had arrived. "Force?"

"You do know the word, yes? Energy—"

Her brazen tone shifted into a sudden, strained gasp. Sebastian watched as she clutched at her arm, just above her elbow, her fingers scrabbling to find purchase among the slick scales of her armor. Her cheeks paled even further when a glass fell and shattered from the other side of the curtain.

Sebastian jumped with her, startled. He had nearly forgotten the two of them were inside a working, open pub where noises such as that should have been expected. But it hadn't been. Expected, that was. Because Sebastian realized he hadn't heard anything beyond his own breaths and her words since he had entered this space.

He turned back to the Iced Guard.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "That noise, I—I don't understand."

She waved him off, angular jaw tight. "I must go."

Sebastian watched, disorientated at her abruptness as she swung open the curtain.

An onslaught of noise barged into their contained alcove. Voices of patrons and barmaids intermingled with the clinking of glasses and silverware. Sebastian stared from the sudden trembling of her hands to the jumble of noise past her.

"What is real?"

"Everything." A tight grimace took over her otherwise smug expression. "Even terrors that you wished were not."

Moments after she had disappeared, Sebastian stood there in that dingy, fluttering room, allowing the rise and fall of the sounds at Tuddle & Totts to wash over him. As if the girl's wispy presence alone had silenced them all into submission.

O O O

It was nearly impossible to get back into his translation work when his fears revolved entirely around the Iced Guard, her words spinning around and around in his head until they all felt like threats. A living force. That was what she had called Abel's illness. A force.

His attention on the Scribal letter in front of him wavered. Sebastian frowned at his dismal lack of attention.

Force.

The word jumped out at him from the lilting words before him.

Sebastian jerked up, his elbow slipping from beneath him and nearly upending the inkwell beside him. He pulled the Scribal letter closer. His nose practically smeared the parchment as he translated the ancient language.

It would do well to not forget that the force of Earth's magic splintered from deceit and jealousy. We should try to unite it, not further separate and dilute it.

His breaths stuttered in his chest, but he shoved the letter across the desk out of arm's reach.

That girl could not have been referring to magic. She had known about Enzo Beulgravia, had even used his scientific research in casual conversation. It was farcical to even entertain such an idea. All this translation work was getting to him, making him think of his mother and her mystical beliefs and stories. The only people he could possibly question about any of this was Imogene, who was no longer with him; the small Iced Guard girl, who had disappeared once more; and Master Lambert, who seemed eccentric enough to entertain some questions of magic and heresy. But Lambert was the Master Scholar of the Halorian Library, where things such as magical forces and Scribal powers were regarded as treason.

Everything, she had said, even the terrors you wished were not.

Needless to say, Sebastian's spirits felt utterly defeated as he left the library that night.

It could help explain why he tripped. 

Instinctually, he threw out his hands to catch himself against the wall of the narrow alley that wrapped around the library. He needn't have bothered, however. Something invisible halted him mid-fall, like the air around him had become tangible and bolstered him. His feet stuck to something that was not there. 

He screwed his eyes shut, forcing his legs to move.

Maybe he was the specter.

That thought left him choking back a sense of dread before he forced his eyes open.

His stomach thrashed and plummeted.

The small Iced Guard had stayed true to her threat.

"I need to talk to you, and I do not wish to be interrupted this time."

She was still clothed in her shimmery armor, but her white cloak had been replaced with a black one, making it a bit easier to look at her beneath the flaming torches against the library's pillars.

"Demented." This entire situation was utterly demented. He found his teeth were clenched and tried to loosen them. "Must you keep reappearing like this?"

"It is rather fun, wouldn't you say?" 

Well, it wouldn't have been the word he would have used to describe their interactions. 

She glanced around the corner as if she had heard something he had not and released a sigh before turning to face him once more. "Though it appears we must find a more secure location."

A second later, Sebastian found his feet could, bless the skies, move. He fumbled forwards on a doe's newborn legs until, with a rush of heated embarrassment, his knees collapsed from under him. He fell to the ground. One of Abel's choice swear words flew from his lips.

"Scribal Hel!" His frustration flooded from his brain as he watched her approach him with a maniacal grin. "What could you possibly want with me?"

"You are making this all quite difficult," she said. "It would be much easier if you simply tried."

"Tried what?"

"Stand up." She twisted her wrist, something pearly and near translucent flickering between her fingers. "Use your threads."

Threads?

No sooner had he thought it, an invisible hand slammed into the bottom of his spine and pushed him to the ground. It held him there though his legs still struggled.

Force.

This could not actually be happening. A mad desire to laugh threatened to consume him, even as every muscle in his body strained to move. To get him up. To bring him out of his nonsense.

Still nothing.

"Really?" The girl simply watched him with a weary scowl. "You seem destined to become a painful thorn in my backside."

A subtle breeze blew back Sebastian's curls, and the nerves in his legs tingled to life. He didn't dare question it. Move. Without thinking of anything otherwise, he jumped to his feet and ran. His newly revived muscles were not as quick as his instincts. A vice-like grip grabbed his wrist, strong fingers wrapping around his bones with enough force to bruise. He spun and tried to swing at her, but she easily sidestepped him and elbowed him in the gut instead.

Ouch. His breaths wheezed between his ribs. It would have perhaps been much smarter if he had remembered she was a trained royal guard of Rainier.

Surprisingly, her thoughts seemed to follow his  own.

"Seriously?" She stood over him now, straddling his back, a foot on either side of his useless waist. "You tried to run? You were the one to ask if we were going to meet again." Her tongue tutted at him. "Honestly."

Before he could perform any other attempts at an idiot's acrobatics routine, there was an unnatural pull around his groin, and his world dissolved into a heavy blackness. 

- - -

Thank you for reading! Let us know your thoughts, questions, or general annoyance over Sebastian's thick-headedness in the comments below. :)