After reinstalling the heated bands, Cane cooled them off and drove a few nails through each rim to tack them into place.
"We're going to scout the trail," he said to Rita, who leaned nearby, arms folded as she watched him work. "We'll be back to pick up the horses."
"I'm the teamster," she replied with a grin. "I'll follow you in the wagon."
She caught their curious looks and smirked. "That's my job. Usually, I just sit around getting Jova pastries."
Cane chuckled. "You okay with spending the night?"
Rita nodded. "Long as you're footing the bill for a room."
"Deal. We'll leave immediately."
Cane swiped the falconer's rune. His eyes glowed amber as Pudding wheeled through the air above, already turning back toward the suspicious camp.
"Move north," Cane whispered.
Through the bird's eyes, he watched two men from the group shift position along their intended route. They were unloading something beside a narrow stretch of trail.
"Range close."
Cane's eyes returned to normal.
Cane:Two men from that camp we found are unloading something near the path we'll be using.
Clara:Like food? Or weapons?
Fergis:Could be worse. That part of the trail has a lot of narrow ravines. A few well-placed charges and they could trap us in.
Dhalia:Should we tell Rita?
Fergis: No.
Cane:No.
Clara:Really? She's with us. Doesn't that put her at risk too?
Cane hesitated just a moment before replying.
Cane:This is important. Listen close. When we're on mission, trust only the four of us. Everyone else is an outsider—no matter how harmless they seem.
Fergis:It might feel extreme, but it's necessary. Read Meya's journal sometime. She wrote pages of examples where even "helpers" turned out to be plants.
Clara:Got it.
Dhalia:I understand. We can't afford to be naive.
The ride back was slow, the wagon dictating the pace. It groaned with every incline, the twisted axle and warped frame causing it to drift on narrow turns, but Rita handled the reins with practiced patience.
By the time they reached the forge, dusk was settling in. Cane helped guide the wagon into position, then handed Rita two gold coins.
"For the room and a meal," he said. "We'll leave at dawn. Once the wagon's loaded, we move."
Rita gave a casual wave, already heading toward town.
Pudding swooped in—quiet and agile—landing softly on Cane's shoulder with claws carefully retracted. It glanced at Fergis, then at the two girls, before rotating its head nearly three hundred and sixty degrees and releasing a sound so awful it defied easy description.
HOOOACHHH.
Cane calmly stroked its curved beak. "Who's a handsome boy?"
Fergis cackled. "Not that thing. That's the ugliest creature I've ever seen."
Cane:Come see, Pudding.
Sofie:Pudding? Okay… I'll be there in a bit.
Cane:Meet at dawn at the front gate. That'll give us time to reach Sarona.
Dhalia:Okay. Good night.
Clara: I'll be there.
Cane and Fergis trudged up the steps together.
"You really bringing that thing into your room?" Fergis asked, still chuckling as the wide-eyed bird blinked slowly at him.
"Yeah," Cane said. "I'll open the window—let him pick a perch outside if he wants."
Inside, Cane spent a few minutes shaping a small perch with metallurgy, setting it gently beside the window. Pudding clambered onto it, blinking once in approval.
Then the knock came.
Sofie stepped inside and stopped short. "Oh… oh my. That is…"
"You can say it," Cane said, stroking Pudding's oversized head with one finger.
Sofie grinned wide enough to show every tooth. "Absolutely beautiful."
She stepped closer, brushing a finger along his feathers. "He's so awful he's cute."
Cane raised an eyebrow, looking at the bird. "How do we feel about that, Pudding?"
HOOOACHHH.
Sofie burst into laughter, covering her mouth. "Wow… just wow. How much did you pay for him?"
Cane narrowed his eyes. "Ten plat."
Pudding abruptly launched off the perch and flapped out the window in a single sweeping motion.
Sofie ducked, startled. "Was it something I said?"
Cane nodded. "Yes."
Sofie stepped close until they were touching, then wrapped her arms around him in a quiet embrace."How did the scouting go?" she asked.
"Looks like someone might be planning to rob us." Cane kissed the top of her head, holding her close.
"Don't tell me things like that," Sofie sighed, pulling back just enough to give him a worried look. "Don't you know there are certain things it's okay to withhold?"
Cane chuckled. "There is? So… probably shouldn't mention the swim with a mermaid, then."
Sofie squeezed his cheek, lips twitching. "Different category. That falls under tell me immediately."
"I see…" Cane smirked. "How about an invitation from Moriwynn to visit the Sunset Court?"
"What? That pointy-eared—" Sofie muttered something under her breath before clearing her throat. "Yes. I want to know about that too. When exactly was this visit going to happen?"
"Our Academy break," Cane said, hugging her tighter, clearly enjoying the flicker of mild annoyance in her eyes. "It's foolhardy, and Telamon agrees—it's too dangerous. I'm not going."
"You have good sense." Sofie rose onto her toes and kissed him lightly. "Anything else?"
Cane nodded. "I'm going home during break. You remember that dream? I think the boy might've been a relative—maybe even close family."
Sofie rested her head against his chest. "Is it dangerous?"
"Shouldn't be," Cane said gently, brushing a strand of her light brown hair behind her ear. "I grew up there. Never had to worry."
She pulled back slightly. "What about the mission tomorrow?"
"Don't worry," Cane said. "We'll change the route. They won't catch us on that terrain."
Sofie gave a slow nod, then kissed him again—this time lingering a bit longer before pulling away."Alright," she said softly. "I still need to write tomorrow's announcements. Be careful… and hurry home."
Cane waited by the window, watching until Sophie reached the base of Sun Tower. Once she disappeared inside, he locked his door and stepped onto the rune portal that led to the Resolute forge.
He pushed the black mask into place, feeling the familiar shift take hold—his voice deepening, his posture straightening. By the time he stepped outside, he no longer looked like a student.
He looked like a blacksmith.
"Let's see..." Cane muttered, crouching beside the wagon. "I'll replace the suspension—it'll be faster than welding, especially given how soft this steel is. Then I'll reinforce the axle with straight bars and draw it back into true. Last, I'll reframe and box the whole thing with the steel and wood I've got on hand."
He worked for hours, letting his magic and smithing flow together in a smooth rhythm. Metal obeyed him, steel bent without protest, and when the wood refused to align, he coaxed it with quiet precision. It was well past midnight when he stepped back to admire his work.
The wagon gleamed under the soft light of the forge, sturdier and cleaner than before. Strong enough to handle rough trails and whatever trouble might lie ahead.
"Time to get back."
He stepped through the rune portal, returning to his room in the Academy. On a whim, he swiped the falconer rune.
His eyes turned amber. The night bloomed into soft silver and shadow as Pudding came into view—gliding silently through the branches, closing in on a rabbit grazing near the Academy gates.
One quick strike. Clean. Precise.
Dinner.
"Not bad," Cane murmured.
He peeled off his shirt, stashed the mask, and climbed into bed—his thoughts already shifting toward the morning, the mission, and what waited on the trail ahead.
Sleeping with the window open, Cane drifted through a deep, dreamless night. He didn't stir until a soft thump sounded from the floor.
"Hmm?" Cane blinked, then smiled as he spotted Pudding perched proudly on his stand.
"Ready for today?"
He rolled out of bed, placing his bare feet on the floor—and recoiled immediately from something wet and sticky.
"Pudding…" Cane muttered, lifting a severed rabbit head by one ear. "Did you bring me a present?"
HOOACHH.
He tossed it out the window with a flick of his wrist and wiped his hands on a rag. "No more presents."
Still, he stroked the bird's puffed head gently with a finger. "Range close."
Pudding launched into the air, a streak of brown vanishing into the predawn sky.
Cane strapped on his Salt armor, slid the copper storage ring onto his finger, and headed out.
"Morning, Sunshine," Cane greeted as he spotted Fergis trudging into view, looking half-asleep. "Rough night?"
Fergis nodded, covering a yawn. "Tossed and turned. I keep thinking about that ambush. We can't let anything happen to Clara and Dhalia. They're still getting their footing."
"We'll stay sharp," Cane said, walking beside him. "But remember—they need to carry their weight. Neither of them would want to be coddled."
"Good point. They're good friends." Fergis rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't have many."
"Maybe you shouldn't singe so many eyebrows."
"That part's fun." Fergis smirked. "Truth is… you're the first real friend I've ever had."
"All that time growing up in the capital, and no friends?"
Fergis shook his head as they made their way down the stairs. "Not real ones. Most were just trying to use me to climb higher."
"I always figured growing up in a big city would be pretty fun," Cane said. "But you make it sound lame."
"It was both." Fergis glanced at him. "Not to be needy, but this is the part where you say I'm your first good friend."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Cane laughed at Fergis's expectant expression. "Look at me—I probably couldn't even name all my good friends."
"Really?"
"Nah." Cane's smile faded slightly. "My first real friend was killed by pirates."
A dark flicker crossed his face—dangerous and cold.
"I wasn't armed back then. No armor. No skills. If someone tries to hit us on this mission…" His voice dropped. "There won't be any mercy."
Fergis nodded. "Turn them to ashes. Keep moving forward."
Cane clapped him on the back, hard enough to make the ginger-haired mage stumble.
"That's why you're my best friend."