"So how come the Greenlits don't near your cottage Sir Triston?" Inquired Priest Ferdinand as he devoured the breakfast offered on his plate. Wilbur found that odd. Out of the various achievements Sir Triston's could call to be his own, cooking wasn't one of them.

"There is a seal, a sort of barrier. The symbol on the door, you may have noted? It's a simple magic seal, nothing fancy schmancy and quite weak truth be told, but Greenlits run from anything magic. A seal is indirectly a layer of magic stretched and thinned for convenience. Created one around the wall too. Perfect for keeping them away," said he refilling Priest Ferdinand's plate. He further willed to do so for rest of the members at the table, but Priest Bill denied, complaining of a full stomach and Carter Hill followed the example. Wilbur wasn't particularly keen but he accepted.

Carter Hill sipped his tea, it was apparent something was troubling him, "Say Sir Triston, it may be to bold of me to ask, I can't help but wonder how and why were you exiled? Sir Florent did say it was politics, but politics against someone as politically powerful you, meaning some bigger cogs must be at play? The matter just doesn't fit. Say if you had actually done something inappropriate, they love to make noise and court trails are entertainment for the masses. No such thing was held, and that only means some big political powers willed you out? What did they want of a warrior, Sir?" Wilbur realised the question was inevitable if they were to stay there, for he himself willed to ask the same at a better time.

He expected the mood to darken a little, but Sir Triston smiled, his sharp eyes on Carter. "Now that was the question I was awaiting."

Awaiting? This is one man you must not meddle with. Just how far does the reach of his knowledge extend, that too from this single hut?

He looked around as if to catch everyone's attention, "Gentlemen I am sure you have many questions, but the answer to that question, as one might expect, is not a simple one. In fact it goes down to the very foundation of the Empire."

"Liberty of time, we posses," urged Wilbur.

Sir Triston inhaled deeply before looking out of a little window. The people outside seemed to have believed that it was a good hour to sleep.

His gloved right hand extended to his unkempt beard, "I have always been a seeker of knowledge. I have always considered my greatest strength to not be alchemy, as many choose to believe, rather my ability to learn things. And that ability all posses but few explore.

"I spent as much time in the Royal library as I did in the training pits. If you have seen the Royal Library you will know that it has far too many books to keep a good count of, such that it may be fair to say it is impossible for one man to take it all. Scholars pay regular pilgrimage to the Royal library, but most venture in the fields of medicine, astronomy, geography and such. Warriors rarely consider a visit to the library fruitful. So it is quite natural to see the whole section of alchemy books remain untouched, sit on those high shelves gathering dust. I became a sole explorer of these seas though explored before but now long forgotten.

"You can be sure that people only like to explore treasures that remain hidden and develop a blind eye for those that are in plain sight. So these long forgotten pages led me to worlds much different from our own, and applications of alchemy that left me lost. To the point, that conjuring spikes proved to be but the only the very basic if one chose to learn.

"I started spending more time in the library than in open. I reviewed text after text. Each day presenting a wonder, each day showing artefacts from the ocean of lost time. I learned about the discovery and the very science of alchemy.

"One thing it did was create more questions with each passing day. More questions than I could hope to solve. That, I consider a good sign while learning any subject. More questions mean that progress is going in the correct direction.

"One of the questions loomed larger than any I had. And it wasn't about the science itself, it was one which answered why the treasure chest of alchemy shelves had been untouched, and a more intense topic than that, why hadn't the science of alchemy seen any new developments in the recent years? It was quite clear that much is to be learned about alchemy then where was the anchor that weighed us down? No, that is wrong to say, the fact that old texts can astonish me such means that we have been pushed behind than our forefathers were.

"The answer was in the most unexpected of places. A book of fable, I still posses it. Carried it with me along with some other books." Saying so he got up and left the room. A few moments later he returned with an old hardbound book in his hand, the covers almost completely ivory black. Sifting sunlight showed a miniature dust storm rising around it as it was carefully placed on the table. The ivory black gave away as a girl with big tears was drawn in the cover with white. It was probably done by a children's book illustrator, but the cover had an eerie feel to it. Wilbur's hand went to feel the artefact in his pocket.

"It was the cover that drew me in. Why was this book in alchemy section was my first question, I read it nonetheless, and I recommend you to do the same. It will take but little time." He opened the first page and everyone came around to Sir Triston's side to read it. Wilbur noted it only had one line per page as most children's books. Each page also had an artwork apparently done by the same illustrator as the cover. But the name of neither the writer nor illustrator was to be found on the cover or elsewhere. The story thus went...