Many days passed, and Caen fell into an easy routine. He continued his boosted magical exercises and practiced Flora magic on the awakened trees, but he usually made time to share supper with Zeris and Guinevere at the aides’ hall most evenings.

  The passive augmentations from his Blood-healing affinity were refreshing. He still needed to take his temperature regulation medication, but it worked so much better than before. Caen was still adjusting to having such a clear sense of his internal condition and the living things around him.

  He continued to help out at the kitchen in the mornings and evenings. He worked in the healing tents at noon, using his own affinity for Blood-healing. He wasn't sleeping anymore—only relying on the sleep abeyance spell—and this freed up his time considerably, allowing him to refine his spellcasting. It was paradise.

  Over dinner with his family one night, Uncle Teiro let it slip that the Chancellery was looking towards winding down this operation soon, and they were currently making arrangements to strongly incentivize all their support personnel. Which meant free food.

  Caen was chagrined. He'd easily saved up nearly fifty meal tokens in his time here. Meal tokens in the camp had become something of a currency. People exchanged them for all sorts of favors and services, and some had even taken to selling them for pomms and low criyl—real currency, which was honestly ridiculous. Caen sold off all but one of his meal tokens that night and was able to make the exchanges quickly because of how much he undercut his rates. He would need that money very soon.

  Not even two days later, an announcement went out to the entire camp that there were now only a hundred trees left to be cut down. Of course, there were still miles and miles of the Plane densely populated with awakened trees. But this was as much as the Chancellery desired to clear.

  All volunteers were encouraged to assist in the venture of speedily felling the remaining trees. Food was free now, and the camp was in a very celebratory mood.

  Over another dinner with his family, Caen told everyone gathered about his plans. He would not be following them back to Drenlin. Not immediately, at least.

  Cutter teams were packed full of Protectors and Haulers now. They worked long and hard, even without the motivation of earning tokens.

  Caen joined up with teams and used paralysis to quicken the felling process. Utilizing modifiers—and with some time—he could localize the paralysis to specific regions distant from his point of contact. Range remained a problem as he always needed to be very close to the trunk—about six feet away at the very most. Fortunately, however, this prevented the trees from directly attacking him as they'd done that first time with the weak sedation spell. He focused the paralysis spell on the area being cut into by the Fellers with their specialized equipment.

  It was an interesting observation he'd made in the past few days. Some paralysis spells slowed down regeneration to a significant degree. Caen had even tested this out on himself. Paralyzing his leg, he'd made an incision and tried using his own Blood-healing affinity to mend the wound, and he’d noted a meaningful resistance to the spell's effect. Of course, a mend spell was not the same as actual regeneration, but this was still interesting. He committed to asking Healer naMoon about it when he returned to Drenlin.

  Since the trees were unable to regenerate as quickly as they usually could, felling them was possible in two-thirds the time it usually took. The flexible tree branches struck at the bladed disks covering the Fellers, but to no avail. Ants streamed out of surrounding tunnel systems, but the heavily bolstered Cutter teams were more than able to cleave through them. Caen occasionally made the rounds after every wave to attend to wounds and injuries sustained.

  *? *? *

  [Farmer Brah'm is a Nurturer, isn't he?] Caen asked Guinevere as he performed a slightly complex Dream-guarding exercise. He'd been alternating between abjection and a boosted affinity. He could only split his attention enough to have this conversation because he was currently Mimicking her Dream-guarding affinity. [Every time I accuse him of being one, he insists that he's not.]

  Guinevere was lying on Zeris's bed in the aides' hall with her hands pillowing her head. [It's really, really weird to hear you talk about my father like he's your friend. Like really weird. And yes, he's a Nurturer. He's always messing with the weather cycle wherever he goes. Archmages.] She shook her head in exasperation.

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  A shudder went down Caen's spine upon hearing that. An archmage. He sure hoped Farmer Brah'm had never taken offense during any of their interactions. But after meeting the man's children and seeing how personable they were, he doubted that would be a problem. Or at least he hoped so. Something else occurred to him. If Farmer Brah'm was an archmage… was it possible that he was the progenitor of Guinevere's bloodline? [Did he pass down this telepathic link to you?]

  [No, that was my mom. She designed it specifically for—]

  [Wait, wait, wait!] Zeris said, looking up from her tome. [Roll that back again.]

  Caen's eyes were wide open.

  [My mom is an archmage, too. Don't be weird about this, please.]

  Caen and Zeris exchanged a look.

  [She wanted us to always be able to keep in touch with each other. She wished she'd been able to do this with her siblings. So…] Guinevere shrugged. [It's really entertaining though. Albion always keeps getting into the most ridiculous situations, and his commentary is golden. And when Nimue became a mage before he did, their bickering was just—god, they’re hilarious.]

  [So your siblings are mages too…] Zeris said. [You're dumping a lot on us tonight, huh?]

  Guinevere laughed through her nose. [Oh yeah, sorry. I forgot to mention that.]

  Caen strongly suspected that they were either peak Attuners or Percipients, since he had been unable to view their soul structures. Mages were those who had received formal instruction in the arcane at a respectable institution of learning, though anyone who ascended to the stage of Percipient was automatically a mage as well. Sh'kteiro was qualified as a mage even though he'd never gotten any formal training.

  [Did your siblings study at a magical academy or are they Percipients?] Caen asked.

  [Both,] Guinevere said as though she were telling them what she'd had for lunch that day.

  [I shared a tent with Percipients?!] Zeris squawked, throwing up her hands.

  [Uncle Teiro is a Percipient,] Caen sent.

  [He doesn't count. He's old. And I've known him forever.]

  [Hshnol might be a Percipient, too,] Caen added. He'd been unable to see the man's soul structure.

  Zeris paused. [I won't be surprised if he actually is one.]

  They'd known Hshnol for all their lives, and he'd always been reserved, polite, and aloof. Caen hadn't the slightest clue how Uncle Vai had roped a possible Percipient to work for him while being himself an Attuner. Maybe the man had advanced during his employment?

  [Where did they study?] Zeris asked. [Your siblings, I mean.]

  [The Imperial Citadel of Magic. I'm starting my studies there this year as well, actually.]

  [Ancestors! So are we!] Zeris said.

  Caen looked at his cousin, touched by her faith in him. The Patronage trials at Ser-gwu Island would determine whether or not he could get into the Citadel. And he fully intended to snag himself a sponsorship. His plans before returning to Drenlin would help with that.

  He watched with a smile on his face as the two of them spoke excitedly, having realized they would be attending the same academy.

  *? *? *

  Aunt Vensha's party was in the same Cutter team as Caen, and they'd just weathered a large swarm of ants as the Fellers worked. Caen had already reapplied a modifier-laden paralysis spell to the tree and was now attending to injuries, enjoying the ease with which he could heal burns and mend gashes by his own power. He sighed pleasantly.

  Done attending to the wounded, he moved over to where Vensha and her team were standing and chatting. They hadn't sustained any injuries, naturally. One of them here, a stout man with a receding hairline named Mafrolem, had his breastplate covered in peerlessly smooth black wood as an extra layer of protection.

  This was a very well-known Planar material that was functionally a Contracted bond of some sort. Flora practicians went into the Parthran Plane to acquire a fragment found in Parthra: the large, ancient tree that resided there.

  A Parthran fragment was considered one of the most durable types of plant matter, and was very useful to any dedicated practician of Flora magic. Caen had been thinking a lot about this for a while now.

  “Hello, Mafrolem,” Caen greeted, coming to stand beside the man. “I've been thinking about picking up Flora magic.”

  “Really? Need me to show you a few things?” He dropped his voice as though to keep the rest of his distracted party members from hearing. “I'm quite the expert, y’know.”

  “I'll take you up on that once we're back in Drenlin. Right now, I'm more interested in your fragment.”

  “Oh, this lovely thing right here?” Mafrolem asked, patting the Planar material on his breastplate. “It's saved my life far more times than I can count, and is the most valuable thing I own in this life. What do you wanna know?"

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