Crimson and Gold

The explosion shook the entire center of Aervelis. The thundering noise echoed far from the source, luring the citizens to the streets to see what had happened.

The Royal Palace was no different.

Hearing the explosion, servants and guards poured onto the streets, looking in the direction that the dark smoke was pointing towards.

“You two! With me!” one of the higher-ranking guards ordered the men nearest to him and quickly ran towards the villa.

Meanwhile, the maids and servants started preparing water and medicinal supplies.

The entire Palace was bustling with people running back and forth, trying to make any sense in this chaos.

Things weren’t any calmer in the Princess’ chambers either.

The unease made it impossible for Lysandra to sit still for more than two seconds, so she kept pacing anxiously around the room.

She kept flipping between worry and anger to worry again.

She couldn’t understand what could have happened to make things this bad.

She made sure to gather enough information on the villa, and Saria checked it herself, too. There weren’t too many guards, and the official was a rather calm man. Not someone who would resort to blowing things up in the face of danger.

Could it be that she was mistaken about Saria? Was she not someone worthy of her trust?

Fortunately, she didn’t have to wonder much longer.

She heard a thud when someone landed on her balcony and saw the familiar silhouette stumbling through the door.

“What happened!? I told you not to attract any attention, and you decided to blow up the place?” the questions shot out of her mouth.

“It wasn’t me,” Saria answered, leaning on the door frame. The scarf she wore as a hood was gone. Her linen shirt and pants in tatters.

Her face and bare skin on her arms were covered with small cuts and soot, her expression full of pain and guilt.

“There was someone else. A mage,” she continued with a strained, raspy voice, “He caused the explosion and killed the official before I got there.”

“A mage?”

Saria nodded. “I think he was covering the tracks,” she said.

“If it were a mage, then things should be a bit easier. Tell me about him. What kind of magic did he use?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see his face. He mumbled something under his breath, and then an orange sigil flashed in front of him, and the next thing I know, the chain of explosions sent the roof falling on my head.”

“He had to use incantation, so it means he isn’t a mystic. If he’s not, then he had to study in the Academy. That makes it easier.

Though it’s hard to tell what type of magic he was using. Some Pyromancy spells could cause small-scale explosions, but it could also be Lightning or Storm since both use the Fire aspect as their base.

Without knowing more details, looking for him in the registry will be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Lysandra let her thoughts flow aloud.

Saria listened without interrupting, though she didn’t fully grasp the Princess’ chain of thoughts.

From what she managed to recall and learn from Tally, this world knew two types of magic: innate and learned.

Those born with the ability to harness the power of the Elements were called ‘mystics’, while those who had studied for that were known as ‘wizards’.

A ‘mage’ was a term used to simply describe someone using magic, and being one was a subject of heavy regulations by the Council of Wizardry and Mysticism.

It was an independent organization consociating powerful magic users from various kingdoms and continents called Overseers. Their task was to make sure that all magic abilities were used in accordance with safety regulations set by them.

Those who failed to follow the rules were given a stern reminder at first. If their disobedience continued, they were denounced as Heretics and became hunted by the Justiciars.

Every mage had to be registered as one, with the details of their alignment and the type of magic they used written by their name. Each country had its own registry, while the full list of past and present mages was kept by the Council.

“Next time, I’ll remember to ask for his na—” a violent cough shook Saria’s body and sent her to her knees, gasping for air.

Seeing this, Lysandra finally snapped out of the shock and ran up to help her up.

“You’re hurt. I’ll call a healer.”

“No. I’ll be fine. There’s no need.”

“You’re barely breathing, and you’re bleeding all over.”

“If you call someone, then they’ll know that I was in the villa. It will only cause problems,” Saria wheezed and sat down on a chair, wincing from the pain.

Once the shock subsided, the full force of her injuries hit her at once.

“At least let me clean the wounds before the infection takes hold.” Lysandra felt a pang of guilt seeing Saria in this state.

After all, she was the reason she went there in the first place.

She told the maid waiting by the door to bring her water and medicinal herbs and listened to Saria’s explanation of what exactly happened.

“You weren’t lying. Your brother really has no sense of finesse,” Saria scoffed at the end of her story.

“Loukios is an idiot, but I never expected him to go this far. It was bold, even for him.”

“It must mean that we’re on the right track. He got desperate.”

In the next moment, the maid returned with all the supplies Lysandra asked for.

The Princess took a big basin full of hot water and other supplies and set them on a small desk by the wall.

“Arms up,” she said, standing behind Saria and tugging at the bottom of her tattered shirt.

Carefully, Lysandra took it off.

The moment she did, guilt tugged at her heart.

Saria’s entire back was covered in purple and red bruises, spreading in every direction. There were cuts and scratches all over her shoulders, arms, and hips. Not deep enough to directly endanger her life, but deep enough to be painful and at risk of infection.

Lysandra swiftly ground some herbs in a mortar, put them in a bowl, and poured in the hot water her maid brought. Then she covered the mixture with a lid and set it aside to brew.

While the medicine was being prepared, she took a clean cloth from the basin and started wiping off the soot and dirt.

“I didn’t know you knew alchemy,” Saria asked, looking at the brewing medicine and the alchemical instruments on the desk.

“I can’t use magic, so I decided to learn the next best thing.” Lysandra’s hands moved in a steady but gentle motion. Almost relaxing, despite the inevitable pain.

“I thought everyone can learn to use it,” Saria wondered out loud.

“Very few are born with magic. But with enough discipline, a little bit of persistence, and an exorbitant amount of money, anyone can learn to use spells, yes,” Lysandra explained, then paused briefly, “and then there are people like me.”

She sighed, then rinsed the blood off the cloth and continued. “Magic requires a soul’s connection to the Elements. Some people have a stronger bond with Water or Air, others with Earth or Spirit.

“Or, like in the case of my family, with Fire, Sun Fire to be exact. I was born without this connection. An Inert. A defect. A dark spot on the gilded lineage of our family.”

With the way she said it, Saria had a feeling the last part wasn’t exactly her words. She could only imagine that for a family of a proud ruling dynasty, being incapable of doing magic must have been seen as a disgrace.

She felt sudden anger at the thought.

“You don’t need magic to be outstanding,” she said, feeling like the words were escaping against her will, “you already put most people to shame.”

Lysandra’s hand froze over Saria’s back. “Was that flattery?” she asked.

“You’re cleaning my wounds. I want to make sure that you’ll keep being gentle.” Saria tried to sound as natural as she could, but a faint reddening of her ears told a different story.

A soft smile curved Lysandra’s lips as she went back to tending to the wounds. Her touch felt even gentler than before.

They sat in silence for a while, as the Princess started applying the medicine on the bruises and the cuts.

“I could’ve caught him,” Saria said suddenly.

“Catch who?”

“The mage. I had a chance to run after him… but I didn’t.”

Lysandra paused and watched her carefully, waiting for an explanation.

“After the explosion, I fell down one floor, but I could still see him running away. I was about to go after him, but…” Saria hesitated.

“But?”

“But I heard a child crying. And I just couldn’t… I couldn’t let her die in that fire.”

“Why do you sound guilty? Like you’re regretting it?”

“Because I am. I lost the only lead we had to find Drusus. I was weak.”

Lysandra knelt next to her and turned her face to meet hers. “Compassion is not weakness. True strength lies in the wisdom to wield the blade with a hand that knows both when to strike and when to offer mercy.

“What you did was brave and admirable. We lost this lead, then we’ll find another, but a person has only one chance at this life.”

Saria looked deep into her eyes without a word. The golden irises burned with comforting conviction and reassurance.

She didn’t remember what was at the source of the guilt she was feeling, what exactly made her believe that saving an innocent life was wrong, but it was like an invisible weight strapped to her heart.

Deep down, she knew that given the choice, she would save the girl again. Even knowing that the cost would be the loss of the only lead they had. Something that could potentially endanger her future or, perhaps, even her life.

Lysandra noticed her hesitation. “I don’t want you to ever sacrifice an innocent life for my cause. Do what your heart believes is right.”

The words didn’t just wash away the guilt Saria was feeling.

They healed something deeper, something that was broken, something that lingered and festered inside despite having all memories gone.

Saria didn’t know who or what made her so hollow, but every cell in her body could still recall the shame from failing to do what she was told to do. The shame from not being able to make a sacrifice for a greater good.

Coming back to the Palace, Saria was expecting a punishment. She was prepared for it and part of her, despite everything, believed she deserved it.

But there was no punishment. Instead, Lysandra made the guilt disappear. She gave her peace, she eased her heart.

It caused a complex feeling to emerge in Saria’s heart. She felt incredibly grateful, but also unworthy of the kindness.

In the end, she didn’t know what to say, so she only nodded and made a strong resolution to help Lysandra as much as she could in achieving her goal.

That was the only thing she could offer in return.