The pleasure of your company is requested at the First Annual Ball,

  To be held at the Autumnal Hall,

  This Solsday even’g, the 21st of Blossom’s End current,

  For an exciting night of refreshments, dancing, singing, and dueling,

  In order to display the preeminent talents of the Young Lords Tyrus and Caeden Hollan.

  Music by Lord Tyrus and Company.

  - A framed invitation, displayed within the main exhibit of the Valorwood Historical Society.

  ***

  Three months later…

  Tyr woke up from his afternoon nap ready to do battle.

  So far, it had been a normal enough day. His morning had passed as usual, practicing mana control and swordsmanship with Garrett and Caeden.

  No wild breakthroughs had occurred for him on either front over the past few months. Rather than attempt to reinvent the wheel, he merely worked his way through the standard battery of shaping exercises: cubes, pyramids, diamonds, and now he had moved on to spirals. Sometimes he skipped ahead and pushed the limits of his control, other times he sought to perfect the basics down to the alignment of individual motes, and, on occasion, he worked on both at once with the help of [Split Focus].

  Practicing swordsmanship with Caeden was fun and frustrating in equal measure. Pacifism limited their ability to spar, as Tyr was never truly able to go on the offensive. He was more of a practice dummy for Caeden that could kind of respond and defend—at least, at half the older boy’s speed. Instead of combat, it was more of an intricate dance where Tyr’s partner was attempting to batter him with a stick. Good for leveling [Dancing], decent training for Caeden, a bit annoying for Tyr’s ego.

  He hadn’t reached the level of healing magic where he could practice on Caeden without turning him into a walking tumor, but Tyr was able to restore his own body to last longer as a training dummy. As ignoble as his fate was, he understood his role as support in this situation. Learning the blade was more of an indulgence of his than anything.

  Not to mention the excellent gains. The swooping techniques and sudden movements that characterized Sky Swordsmanship, practiced with a partner, apparently met the requirements to level up [Dancing]. Paired with his sessions with Mother, his physical attributes had all seen increases, including another point to Constitution.

  While the morning session had been normal enough, there had been a current of tension in the air. After all, their long plan was about to be fully set into motion. One last step. Then, it was time to perform.

  Yawning, Tyr sprang out of bed. He dressed himself in front of his full-length mirror, his face solemn. Composed. Today, his suit was more similar to a military uniform: white, with a high, stiff collar, trimmed with filigrees of golden thread.

  Mother had purchased it for just this occasion.

  Tyr nodded in appreciation of his martial stature, laced up his tan combat boots, and headed downstairs.

  The Grey Twins were waiting for him in the foyer, with a nervous Caeden standing between them, scrunched up to look as small as possible.

  “Just let me do all the talking,” said Tyr. “Trust me, this is going to be awesome.”

  Caeden gulped and nodded.

  As they walked out the front door together, Tyr shook his head. “Can’t believe Garrett didn’t want to come with us.”

  “I can,” said one of the Grey Twins. Ilya. Or was that Olga? [Identify] never worked on them, and they seemed to intentionally switch up their physical identifiers in order to confuse him.

  Tyr rolled his eyes. Despite their complaints, the Maids had prepared the family carriage as requested. It was waiting for them outside: three proud Sky horses tethered to a sleek, red-lacquered coach. The Grey Maids climbed into the front.

  “Wow.” Caeden climbed into the back next to Tyr, running his hand along the plush seat. “This is really nice.”

  Tyr clapped his hands together suddenly, snapping his cousin out of his attempt at distracting himself. “It’s time to lock in, Caeden. The moment of complete and utter glory is at hand.”

  His elder cousin offered a wan smile.

  I gotta cheer him up somehow, Tyr thought as he finished buckling himself into his booster throne. Though traveling by ground through the Undercity posed almost no possible threat to a supertoddler, Mother still insisted that he use the device. Despite his complaints, better safe than sorry was a reasonable enough motto. This life was too fun to die in some freak accident at the very beginning.

  With a faint, magical hum, the carriage departed. Tyr watched the world pass by through the window.

  Caeden cleared his throat. “Are we, uh, still sure this is a good idea?”

  Goodness gracious.

  They’d spent the majority of the past year training together for sweet revenge, and now Caeden was getting cold feet. But that was only natural. The boy was an actual five year old. An official duel was not truly dangerous, but there was potential for this to be a far more public and humiliating loss than their scuffle at the park.

  Tyr looked down at his own slightly trembling hands. “Can’t blame you for feeling nervous, since I guess I’m feeling it too. I’ve been wondering if maybe I went a bit overboard in my reaction.”

  Caeden sighed. “I mean, did it have to be a duel held at an actual, official Ball? I can’t believe your parents are even going along with this. Their approval is the only reason my dad is allowing it in the first place. A three-versus-one against people twice my age…”

  “Look,” said Tyr. “It’s going to be funny. Should I have invited most of the upper crust of Valorwood, including all of the Goldtouch Mercantile Family’s rival peer groups? Okay, admittedly, maybe a bit over the top. The paid livestream on the LatticeNet is also, in retrospect, a bit of an escalation. I may have underestimated the population of Savra, and thus how many millions are willing to tune in—”

  “Millions?” Caeden squeaked.

  Time to change tactics.

  “Just kidding,” Tyr lied shamelessly. “Caeden, I believe in you. I’ve practiced with you. Blood, sweat, and tears—”

  “The tears are mostly from your tantrums.” A small smile slipped through Caeden’s nervous expression.

  Tyr closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “You are a Hollan. One dedicated to a martial path. I don’t care if there are fifty Merchant brats or a hundred common lackeys against you. Tear through them anyways. Honor and Family.”

  Charisma 9 > 10 (20).

  Within a few minutes, they reached their destination: Goldtouch Market. It was a small district unto itself, a self-contained enclave. Most of the buildings were uniform wooden structures, bearing signs identifying their purpose, along with the family logo of a golden hand pointing directly at the viewer.

  Didn’t anyone teach these Merchants that it’s rude to point? Tyr seethed.

  It was, admittedly, a nice little area, though it lacked a certain natural harmony. From the smiling employees standing about in their gauche golden uniforms, to the careful horticulture of various fragrant plants—even the fountain with a statue of a father handing his excited daughter a necklace. The happy, chattering crowd milling between the various stores. All of it was sinister to the core. It reeked of pandering capitalism, of carefully-researched and strictly-implemented mass appeal.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Wow, it smells really nice,” Caeden spoke up.

  Tyr sniffed the air. “It’s not that great.”

  “Are you insane?” Caeden kept sniffing as if he was attempting to suck in all the ambient Air mana. “What is that? It’s like roses and sugared donuts and grilled meat. So many different scents, but somehow it works perfectly.”

  Tyr sneered. “Don’t be taken in by their cheap tricks.”

  Their carriage rolled to a stop at the designated parking area. A handsome young valet opened the door and smiled down at Tyr. The smile on the employee’s face slowly died as he made extended eye contact with the infamous little scion. The little nameplate on his breast pocket exposed him as Jerome.

  “Oh, h-hello,” said Jerry. “I mean, welcome to Goldtouch Market! Home of all your worldly desires!”

  Tyr stared until he started to feel a bit bad for the increasingly nervous valet. Jerry was just earning a paycheck, even if it was under the heel of a sick, twisted, greedy little man.

  “I want to speak with your boss.”

  “W-which one?” said Jerry. He did a double take as the Grey Maids appeared behind him, their own expressions deathly serious.

  Tyr finished unbuckling himself from his seat. “You know, the boss. The boss of bosses. Hammond Goldtouch.”

  Jerry looked like he was about to protest, then he glanced back at the Maids again. Sighing to himself, Tyr fetched a gold coin from the small stack of them stored within his spatial ring. While mana crystals were the true currency of Savra, the metal coin was at least the equivalent of a week of the valet’s wages.

  Tyr flicked the coin over to Jerry, and despite the valet’s nervousness, he snatched it out of the air with blurring speed.

  Unsure how to respond, Jerry simply stepped away from the carriage, allowing Tyr and Caeden to disembark. A quick survey of the parking area assured Tyr that his family carriage was, by far, the nicest. Despite that, there were a few exotic animals that he found himself intrigued by, particularly a plodding Shadow Elephant being herded in place by a squadron of half-panicked valets.

  In the blink of an eye, a man in a golden suit appeared next to Tyr’s party. The Maids intercepted him in a blur—not quite touching him, but with an evident threat in their posture if he advanced any farther.

  “Excuse me,” the man said with a bow. “I heard my name mentioned and, seeing what illustrious guests we have today, I had to come out to greet you myself. Hammond Goldtouch, at your service.”

  Soren’s father was an unassuming figure, one that Tyr wouldn’t glance at twice if they passed in the street. Average height, plain face, though he had the perfect proportions and symmetry of at least a C-Grade Human. Apparently he wasn’t too committed to the ‘golden’ bit, since the rings decorating every finger were a variety of exotic materials: a band of wood bursting with Life mana, mystical ivory, jade, and more. All of them enchanted, no doubt.

  “Ah, yes,” Tyr said. “Quite the shanty town you have here!”

  “Chantee town?” Hammond glanced with pride at his elegant, prospering complex born from greed and filth. “I’m not familiar with the term, but I thank you for the sentiment. To what do I owe the pleasure, Young Lords Hollan? And Ilya and Olga Heartbound, in the flesh!”

  “E-excuse me, sir—” said Jerry.

  “You are excused, Jerome.”

  The valet rushed off.

  Tyr stuck his hands in his pockets as he eyed Hammond. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m throwing a bit of a Ball in a couple weeks?”

  Hammond chuckled nervously. “Of course! It’s the talk of the city. You are quite the budding socialite, I see. Fell out of the public spotlight for a bit, but this should remedy matters. I suppose my invitation was lost in the mail?”

  Tyr narrowed his eyes at the last statement. For all his pleasantries, Goldtouch was an astute businessman that had carved his own little section out of the Undercity for himself. Perhaps he already knew what Tyr was planning, and his words hinted that he knew what game was afoot, but he was willing to go along with the charade.

  That would have to do.

  Tyr flicked his wrist, and a stack of five cream-colored envelopes appeared in his hand. “And here they are.”

  Hammond accepted them with an innocent smile. “So many!”

  Tyr nodded and started counting them out on his right hand. “One for you. One for your wife. One for Soren. And two for his lackeys.”

  “Very generous of you, after the unfortunate events that took place earlier this year.” Hammond offered a slight bow to Caeden. “I apologize again for my son’s transgressions.”

  “It’s okay,” Caeden responded shyly.

  “It’s not,” said Tyr. “That is why the Ball has some additional entertainment planned. Of course, I will be performing a couple opening songs. But then, the match of the century! An official duel between Caeden Hollan, your son, and his lackeys.”

  Hammond snorted sudden laughter. For a moment, he tried to contain it, then he burst out chuckling. “And since he is a minor, you need parental permission? Well, that’s not happening. The matter has been settled. Subjecting my son to some farce, broadcast to a bunch of layabouts throughout the world....Well, that’s simply not going to happen.”

  Tyr coughed and produced another envelope from his spatial ring—this one far bulkier than the invites. He passed it along to Hammond, who accepted this offering as if it was a venomous snake. Suspicion glinting in his eyes, he opened the envelope with a swipe of his fingernail and unfolded the packet.

  “Merchants really are predictable,” Tyr said, enjoying the sight of Hammond’s mockery fading away as the man read the documents. “What a sweet deal you have in Valorwood. My parents allow you to conduct business here, to create your own little corporate fun zone, under a simple agreement.”

  Hammond swallowed.

  “Pay. Your. Taxes.” Tyr wagged a finger. “Of course, this isn’t like, death-sentence worthy levels of transgression. Maybe just another little fine, or perhaps this cool little setup you have here gets broken up and sold piecemeal to the highest bidders. Or, we can look at this as an unfortunate oversight. You pay back your owed taxes, maybe dress up like a dog at my Ball, and we’ll call it even.”

  Hammond clenched his fist around the documents. “Dress up…dress up like a dog? I will not subject myself to such humiliation. Especially in the face of this blackmail. This extortion.”

  Tyr shrugged. “Whatever. Just make sure your son and his friends are there. Now, toodles. The smell of this place is making me sick.”

  Hammond closed his eyes. “They will be.”

  Caeden bowed. “Uh…bye.”

  That was quick and easy, Tyr thought as he climbed back into the carriage. A glimpse behind him revealed an unwelcome sight: Soren Goldtouch, in the typical employee uniform, staring from off in the distance. Tyr offered him a cheeky little wave, but the bully just stared.

  Then, Tyr’s eyes began to burn.

  What is this?

  An anomaly flickered in his vision—an absence in reality that his brain couldn’t quite process. The result was like staring at a bizarre optical illusion. Soren wasn’t the source. It came from off to the side, in his peripheral vision. Someone in the crowd? A second later, it vanished.

  [ The General Skill Retrocognition (Epic) is now available. ]

  Tyr froze in place, halfway into the carriage. What was that?

  Despite his shock, he dedicated a separate part of his mind to analyzing the General Skill. Retrocognition had perhaps been briefly mentioned in one of the basic texts he had read, though he couldn’t remember many details. As far as he could recall, it had been as a side note while discussing Divination. No doubt there were books about the Skill, but none that he had happened to read.

  Skills such as Precognition required a dedicated build in order to properly function as an Oracle. The future could go down a near-infinite number of possible paths, and thus required careful pruning. The past, however, was mostly fixed, barring some time magic shenanigans. Tyr doubted the Skill would be a good match for, say, a Fighter or Crafter, but for a budding Mentalist like himself, it would be promising.

  Of course, seeing into the past also had less benefit than knowing the future before it arrived. But, with a huge world full of mysteries in front of him, it could be an incredible tool in his arsenal.

  He knew he should wait, do his research, and maybe select the Skill later. Some Skills could be abandoned or forgotten, but he wasn’t sure about Retrocognition. The Epic Rarity often came with some drawbacks; very few of them could be discarded.

  However, if Retrocognition worked like Precognition, then the further out he tried to see, the more difficult it would be to use the Skill. And he really, really wanted to know what he had seen that had triggered him to unlock an Epic Skill. Just from laying eyes on something?

  [ General Skill Retrocognition (Epic) Level 1 has been learned. ]

  Instinctive knowledge of how to activate the Skill flooded into his mind. Without a second thought, he cast his memory back in time, to the moment he had seen Soren. Pain throbbed between his temples, and he gasped as mana flooded from his Core. At least the General Skill seemed capable of fueling itself with any type of energy, though presumably Mind would be the most efficient.

  After most of his Core was drained, a memory replayed in his mind. Though it was more than a memory; more than his escapades within the Dream Realm, even. It felt as if he was reliving the moment exactly. The sensation wasn’t that strange, since he was basically in the same position and only a couple seconds had passed, but he sensed the overlap of the real world and Memory World would be disorienting if they weren’t so closely aligned. He was also looking at the past from his own perspective opposed to scrying a random scene from a neutral perspective, minimalizing the cognitive and magical burden from the ability.

  Fortunately, within the Memory World, the anomaly in the crowd was no longer an anomaly. It was an adolescent boy, perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Tall, sheathed in lean muscle, wearing a simple shirt and trousers of fine black silk. Dark, shining hair spilled across his shoulders like a waterfall. Amethyst earrings glimmered on his exposed earlobes—some kind of artistic design to them, but Tyr couldn’t make them out due to the distance.

  Most striking of all were his violet eyes. Not the color of Dream mana. It evoked a sense of royalty that matched the stranger’s proud bearing.

  They were staring at Tyr with dark intensity.

  “Are you okay?”

  Tyr blinked, coming back to reality. Caeden was steadying him with both hands so that he didn’t fall back out of the carriage. A sudden wave of weakness overwhelmed Tyr, and he found himself grateful for his elder cousin's support.

  The Grey Maids rushed over to help stabilize him. Fighting down a wave of vertigo, Tyr glanced at the crowd again. But the anomalous boy was nowhere to be seen.

  Who in the world was that brat…?