Friday morning. Mmanuell wakes up full of nerves, on the advent of yet another of his carefully devised schemes. He normally finds it trivial to control his emotions, as is necessary when you sow chaos for a hobby, but sometimes it feels better to let the exhilaration run through- getting excited at the mere thought of how the day's going to play out is simply impossible to resist.

 

Mmanuell leans over his en-suite sink and rubs his hands across his face, looking at his reflection in the mirror with a smug grin. You got this, nothing could be easier, he reminds himself as he briefly takes notice of the condition of his skin. Plain brown, still no Gates. They're taking their damn time, but we move.

 

He leaves his room and starts heading downstairs into the kitchen/living-room combo where, as usual, his parents are already getting on with their own morning routines.

 

'Morning mum, morning dad.' Mmanuell jogs down the last few steps and nods at his parents before sitting down at their table and wolfing down the bowl of dragon meat and rice&peas that his mother made him for breakfast.

 

'Morning son!' Teegan Ezenha called back from across the kitchen as she finished prepping tonight's dinner. 'Last day of the term, you excited?'

 

Mmanuell nods and replies between mouthfuls of food, 'Yeah, me and my mates-'

 

'Don't talk to your mum with your mouth full.' Mmanuell's father, Ttala Ezenha- an intimidatingly tall, beastly looking man covered head to toe with geometrical tattoos- ruffled his newspaper and looked up at his son from across the kitchen table through thicker-than-they-need-to-be glasses, his voice vibrating their glass table as he spoke.

 

Mmanuell glares back at his dad and swallows the food in his mouth before continuing. '...Me and my friends came up with a scheme to celebrate, yeah. A little last minute, but nothing we can't handle.' Mmanuell clasps his hands together and rubs them in excitement, 'Easiest dub of our lives.'

 

'Is that so?' Teegan pushes up her glasses, her interest piqued. 'On a scale of "Standard" to "Goblin Raid", how grand are we talking?'

 

Mmanuell chuckles, which quickly evolves into a cheeky laugh as he reminisces about the best night of his life. 'Well...I mean we're never going to top Goblin Raid Mum, come on.' Mmanuell and the boys flew to the city in the dead of night, broke into a library, dismantled all of the bookshelves and melted the screws into a solid gold bar which they then sold for a generous profit. They were never even caught! It was beautiful. 'But if I had to compare it to one of my previous works, I'd call it the...sequel to Calligraphy Carnival.'

 

'Ooh, sounds interesting! I know you'll do fine.' Teegan smiled, going over to the table to wash up her son's dishes and kiss her husband on the cheek- but Ttala sighed and rolled his eyes.

 

'Just try not to go over the top Mmanuell. We should be expecting another Random Wyvern Event one of these years, their numbers usually surge way before one officially begins. Don't want you stepping on one by accident.'

 

'Yeah I'll be fine, the entire plan takes place indoors, don't need to worry about me getting jumped.' Mmanuell gives his dad a thumbs up and turns behind him to look at the picture frame hung above the fireplace; it's a painting of his family: Mmanuell, his parents, and a man who looks identical to his father except completely bald and with darker skin. 'Even if the dragon population boomed overnight, pretty sure you and uncle Draden could cull it right back down, so it's all jiggy...now I mention him, he actually hasn't visited in a while. Dad, do you know when he'll be back?'

 

Ttala groaned, 'Hold on, let me check.' He reached an arm across the table and went for the calendar lying beneath some magazines, flicking through the pages until he reaches the current date, April 2017 '...Uh, sometime next year, most likely.'

 

'Next YEAR?! Why so far! There was only a month between his last two visits!'

 

Mmanuell's father puts down his newspaper and looks in his son's general direction. 'Mmanuell, you know Draden rarely gets any time off with all that foreign King's Agency business he's involved with. Plus, we're both getting old, flying from Tsunia to Cryotia isn't a small feat. He'll come when he comes. Leave it at that.'

 

Mmanuell squinted at his father. 'You said that with contempt.'

 

'...Did I?'

 

Mmanuell starts making wild gesticulations as he sticks his head out over the table, 'Yes! And you're both one-hundred and thirty-four you're not that old. Okay, yeah, he's a King's Agent. An "assassin". A "hitman". Kills people. Come on I'm nearly sixteen I know this-'

 

Mmanuell's dad loudly flips the page of his newspaper. "Shut up", is what he's trying to say.

 

'D-DAD?! Hello?'

 

Ttala is now looking straight at Mmanuell, hitting him with that dollar-store pepper spray stare, but before he can raise his voice Teegan comes up behind Mmanuell and pinches his trapezoid, forcing him to turn around and meet her gaze. A small hint of annoyance breaks through her warm expression, but she is smiling nonetheless.

 

'What your dad is trying to say is that we won't need to rely on uncle Draden because YOU'RE going to be a Dreacon too, sooner or later.'

 

'Ehhhh...', Mmanuell groans.

 

Mmanuell's mother loosens her grip on his shoulders and taps him on the forehead, 'Don't "Ehh" me. Your Gates will have grown in by the time Ttala expects you to start helping him out, you'll be taking over the family business in no time.'

 

Mmanuell rubs his chin, pondering. The family business, is that right. Fighting swarms of dragons every other day does seem fun in it's own right, but the idea of doing that for the rest of my life sounds boring as hell, though. Hm, maybe my-

'Your opinion will change once your Gates actually grow in, son. Here, have a look at some of my work quickly before you leave for school.' Teegan dumps something she fished out of her blue and white wyvern-leather briefcase on the table before Mmanuell: A hefty document binder with a detailed mural of a Frost Wyvern on the front. "The Random Wyvern Event: an overview by Teegan Ezenha".

 

Oh, this is one of mum's research papers. Mmanuell flicks to a not-entirely-random page— the book is sectioned off into different categories with laminated paper, and he lands on the first page of the book's largest topic: The Random Wyvern Event.

He's skimming over it, but it's mostly talking about the purported mechanics behind how Cryotian Tyrant Meadvale has remained as the Great Frost Wyvern throughout most of recorded history, despite every other country's Tyrant changing form and triggering new Random Species Events every 4 centuries or so. Mmanuell inconspicuously closes the book and pinches his eyes. Despite merely skimming through it, he could smell how mightily boring that was.

Okay, enough of that, back to the task at hand, people.

Operation...uh.

Operation Get-our-stuff-back.

Yeah.

Mmanuell knows that sounds nowhere near as cool as "Goblin Raid" so shut the fuck up, he's working on it. The mission in question is just about ready to start, barring the final, most important piece which Mmanuell left in his bedroom- he hops upstairs and flings its door open. A solitary ray peers in through closed blinds, illuminating the specks of dust that float through, making his room feel like the trophy room of a retired champ. Well, that is what Mmanuell's bedroom is after all...minus the retired bit because he's still in business baby!

 

Again, just as dramatically, Mmanuell brandishes open his curtains, letting the morning sun pour in and accentuate the brilliance of his master den: a double bed to one side with enough space to fit three more, a bookshelf to the other full of some of the finest literary works to grace the land (fiction books), complemented by the trophies and spoils from schemes long past. Stolen ID cards, some poor sod's house keys, a visiting government official's wig (absolutely horrendous behaviour, Mmanuell can't help but laugh whenever he looks at it), among other various sundries that bespeak Mmanuell's infinite cunning.

And there it is, the centrepiece. You love to see it.

To the side of Mmanuell's bed sits a washing-machine-sized treasure chest made entirely out of Pallobalt Crystal. It is a lustrous, lavender-hued metal, so not actually crystalline whatsoever...but shines like a jewel so it may as well be! The sheer size of it makes it a bit hard to do so, but Mmanuell tilts one end of the box up and places a hand underneath, supporting its volume with his cheek as he adjusts his grip and nearly instantly Mmanuell's whole body goes numb; it's a tingly feeling, like dipping your hands in warm water after a day of snowball fighting in a blizzard. On the verge of paralysation, but Mmanuell wins these.

 

Teegan calls for Mmanuell from downstairs, waiting for him at the front door. 'Mmanuell! Do you want to skate to school or are you fine walking!?'

'I'll stake today!', Mmanuell calls back.

'Okay, let's get going sweetie, say bye to your dad!'

'Alright!', Mmanuell carefully inches his way through the thin upstairs corridor so as not to pierce the delicate wallpaper with the sharp edges of the chest, only to be cussed out by his mum as soon as she sees him trying to hulk his way down the stairs with that safety hazard.

'Mmanuell why do you have that?! The entire thing is made out of Crystal are you trying to kill yourself? Where- when did you even get that-'

'I will simply handle the situation, mum, don't worry.', Mmanuell reassures her. The thing to remember here, kids, is that Pallobalt absorbs the Flow out of you like a sponge does water. They're "relatively" safe to touch for people who cannot use Magic yet (i.e literally only Mmanuell) but people like his mum, a fully grown, magic-proficient adult? Wouldn't dare to touch this bare-handed, which is why Teegan has such an apprehensive look on her face. She can't even take the thing off of her kid without risking passing out, so she just has to trust the boy.

 

'...I hope you know what you're doing, and don't go poking eyes out with those corners either! Come on, I'm running late dear.'

 

'Yes mum', Mmanuell sticks his head over the chest he's carrying and peers into the kitchen door, 'Dad, we're leaving now! Bye, love you!'

 

...

 

He fell asleep at the table, his arms folded and the newspaper he was reading laid across his face. Best to just let him sleep, he'll go to his actual bed when he slides off the chair in an hour or so. Teegan ushers Mmanuell to move back a bit as she pulls open the front door, sucking out the corridor's cosy warmth and sending a zephyr of cold air right up Mmanuell's nose and freezing the back of his throat. Ooh yeah, that's that 7am Friday morning smell. That Za.

 

Mmanuell steps out the front door after his mum and trains his eyes to the pearly white of the snow-covered cul-de-sac that his family lives on. It's hard to open your eyes fully without nearly blinding yourself, Mmanuell's hometown looks as if Infinite Azure froze over: clear, sunny skies in direct contradiction to the freezing cold and a permanent ankle-deep coat of snow on the ground, which is strange because Mmanuell's never seen a cloud in his life. It's probably got something to do with the fact that the Inani Montibus is so nearby, or maybe it's the influence of Tyrant Meadvale slumbering within those mountains messing with the weather? Mmanuell doesn't really care, all he needs to know is that school gets called off really often because of massive snow pile-ups, or the doors freeze shut, or the boiler malfunctions, or there's a frost wyvern loose in the dining hall...luckily today isn't one of those days.

 

Teegan ruffles Mmanuell's hair (flattening his afro pompadour in the process) and cracks her knuckles, 'Hold on son, I have to get to work early today so I can't skate with you today, I'll make the entire path from now.'. Teegan takes a deep, concentrated breath... then lets loose a steady stream of Flow from the multiple whirlpool-shaped markings across her body and lets it seep out of the sleeves of her fur coat. It evaporates off, out of her skin like an iron shooting out steam, and after a few moments, there's enough of the turquoise, smoke-like gas to fill a pool. Again by her sheer will, the cloud of Flow condenses into a uniform rhomboid shape, about a person's length in height and width, reminiscent of a giant marker; its hue also brightening on account of less sunlight blocking out its natural azure glow.

 

'Alright, let's see if I don't run a path into a tree by accident now, shall we? around the roundabout and down the road, easy enough, then the rest of it...' Teegan pinches her eyes shut and envisions the route her Magic has to take to create a traversable path to school, making small twists and turns with her other hand as she does so. Effortlessly following her mind's will, her magic marker lowers to the ground and is dragged along the snow, the Flow at the bottom of being Transmuted into an icy pavement of lustrous Ice Magic as it moves along, like ink being trailed on paper in a pen's wake, or like one of those fancy Narishaelan toys that move on their own and set dominoes on the floor, or a...Zamboni? If that's what they're called (not much of a use for them in the land of permafrost).

 

Mmanuell watched his mum flex her Magical prowess in awe (and silence, so as not to disturb her); as Teegan continued drawing a course all the way out the cul-de-sac and into the snow-covered, unpaved roads beyond, extending beyond both her and her son's sight for what he could only assume was the entirety of the 2-mile journey to school. This continued for about two minutes until Teegan sensed that the Magic she whipped up was depleted, she opened her eyes and smiled at Mmanuell, who smiled back and applauded her display of fine Magic control. 'Wonderful stuff, mum.'

 

'Thank you, dear. Here, put your skates on.' Teegan brings forth yet another small cube of Flow from her Gates, which she splits in two and sets over the freshly laid path of Ice Magic, where they Transmute from the bottom up within seconds into primitive-yet-functional bladed shoes. Ice skates...also made of Ice Magic. They fall over as Teegan stops controlling them and checks her watch...she spent a little too much time dealing with Mmanuell. 'Okay, nothing should dissolve before you reach school but if it does let me know; your mum must be losing her touch, haha! Have fun, your plan will go just fine, enjoy the last day of school, love you, see you at home time!' Teegan speaks in a rushed tone as she creates a rectangular box out of solid Wind Magic, tall enough for her to stand in, with one side open and a thin pole going from top to bottom to act as a handrail. She lifts it up dozens of feet into the air, orients it to face north-west, and blasts off at an impressive speed. Mmanuell watches his mum become nothing more than a speck in the crystal blue sky, veering around the smaller scrappy mountains that make up the edge of the Inani Montibus. He should get going.

...

A twenty-minute skate through the lovely Cryotian spring taiga, closer to fimbulventr than any spring a non-Cryotian would be accustomed to, brings Mmanuell to St. Balwart's— a great, big, building that his father says has been around longer than him. Mmanuell's late; it's empty in the front playground, the snow littered with footsteps heading to and from his next ordeal: The school walls are always covered beneath mounds of snow and an insanely thick sheet of ice is covering the main entrance; it froze over a few years ago and hasn't melted since, so the janitor man carved it into a staircase that people use to get inside through the giant (now smashed out) window above it. This is a safety hazard and, with the massive Crystal crate he's still holding, one wrong move will probably leave him with dented ribs. Luckily all Mmanuell has to do is use the unnecessarily sharp corners of his treasure chest as an ice-pick and slowly inch his way up. After a couple dozen seconds, he's made his way up the slippery stairs, through the window door and is on his way to his classroom.

LET OPERATION: "GET OUR STUFF BACK" COMMENCE!