As the clamorous sounds of a camp being set up began to fade into the trees behind the duo, Seiglinde breathed deeply of the cool, playful mountain breeze that tussled her hair. She could feel her heartbeat calming as she exhaled slowly. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know that the awful Crug claw was still on the person of the strange knight riding besides her, but something about his presence calmed her down. After all, if he had so easily fell the giant sloth-bear they had seen back where the sounds of hammers clanging at pegs emanated, did she really have to fear some oversized cave bugs?

Seiglinde stole a glance at her silent comrade, an imposing figure draped in a black leather and steel plate, what stood out most to her was his helm. Under a dark leather hood sat a form fitting mask of chain-link and plate that betrayed a stern, cold gaze. On the strips of iron running down the face, Seiglinde could barely make out the form of some sort of insignia. As she squinted to try to get a better look at the insignias, the man took notice and Seiglinde quickly averted her gaze.

“Speak.” The man said. His tone was stern, but not cold.

“I apologize m’lord, I meant no …” Seiglinde began, but paused as the man let out a short, bemused grunt.

“You are mistaken, I am no lord. I am just Harros.”

“But your armor? That insignia surely is a house crest?”

“Ah,” Harros touched his face gingerly. “An understandable mistake. This is the insignia of the Academy of Magics.”

Seiglinde paused, thinking back to the Adept that had ‘hired’ her services and brought her to Ori and Caelan. She shuddered slightly at the recollection of the man’s strange bark like skin that peeked out from under his heavy robes and his inhuman gravelly voice that seemed to speak with three tongues at the same time. Harros apparently took note of her shudder at answered the question forming in the back of her mind.

“No, I am not an Adept myself.” Harros paused, and seemed to briefly mull something over before he spoke again, “At least not formally, I served the Academy in – other ways.”

The two rode silently for a while, the slow clopping of horses hooves being the only thing to accompany the low buzz of insects hiding in the foliage. Seiglinde’s horse shat itself out of boredom.

“Can you do magic though?” Seiglinde asked skittishly.

“Yes.” Harros chuckled to himself, “I can perform some minor magic.”

“Oh!” Seiglinde unexpectedly let out excitedly. Harros glanced at her and Seiglinde re-composed herself quickly. “Why doesn’t your voice sound – well, weird?”

“Did you give the horses rest on the way here?” Harros asked, seemingly dodging the question.

“Once.” Seiglinde contorted her face in annoyance. “Ori was pretty keen on getting to the cave. I guess he figured that’s where you were? He was pretty mad after the visit by the Adept.” Seiglinde paused and looked inquisitively at Harros who seemed preoccupied with the river that had reappeared to their right. She attempted to prod him again. “Why were you here before the others?”

“Here.” Harros said after a momentary silence as he pulled his horse into a small hidden sandy bank by the river. Wordlessly, Harros dismounted and led his horse to the riverbank. As it began to drink from the lazy water, he began shuffling through some of the nearby weeds.

Seiglinde began to follow suite, more so from curiosity then anything else. Truth be told, she was getting frustrated at Harros. Ori, despite being visibly fuming at Harros after the encounter with the Adept had still spoke of the man as an absolute saint of a human being. Seiglinde had liked Ori, his general genial attitude, and the calm in which he had dealt with the threatening Adept had made her warm to him quickly – it had also helped that Ori seemed genuinely interested in her and making sure she felt like a key member of the expedition. Harros seemed to be the complete opposite and it was a little hard for Seiglinde to understand what Ori saw in the man.

Seiglinde dismounted the horse, and, leaving it to find its own way to the water, stomped over to where Harros was bent over in the grass. Taking a second to readjust her hefty blunderbuss she prepared to dig into him. “Listen, I know when I’m being talked down to and ignored, Ori seems like a good person, but … I don’t know … all this talk of we’re being equals in this …” Seiglinde paused, frustration stealing the words from her throat. Harros was standing now, a strange clump of weeds in his hand. “Say something!”

“You asked to see magic?” Harros asked flatly. Seiglinde couldn’t help herself and began to laugh, now it was Harros’ turn to stare perplexedly. “What is funny?”

“Can’t you just say some fancy words and make stuff happen?” Seiglinde asked, still clutching her sides. Her back hurt from the blunderbuss bouncing off it.

Harros just simply shook his head, reaching into his pouch he took out a small greenish flask from his pouch and began to swirl it. Seiglinde eventually calmed herself and watched, a silly grin still spread across her face. Harros downed the flask and wretched, one hand clenched around his throat as the other stabilized his body against the earth. Seiglinde swore that she could see his throat expand, bulging even under the metal guard. Her grin faded into concern. She quickly rushed to help “What was that? What did you do?”

“You asked to see magic.” Harros said as he put his hand out to stop her and pulled himself to his feet. His voice had changed, his stoic tone replaced by a strange like wind blowing through a burnt out tree raising voices of agony amongst the remaining ashes. Seiglinde recoiled, flashes of the ghoulish Adept flashed before her mind’s eye.

“Do not fear,” Harros continued. “You are one of us now, it is only fair you see for yourself.”

Seiglinde stumbled backwards and tripped. She could only look up in astonishment as Harros opened his mouth again only this time the sound emanating through the trees was a soft melody of chimes as a pale orb of white light emerged in the palm of his hand.