After I go to sleep, I enter the Armoury’s entrance hall to begin the night's training. It’s quickly become a familiar sight, and though I’m not one hundred percent used to it, I’ve come to value my time here.

 

Armsmaster was right about me getting a sense for the pattern the layout follows. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there is a kind of certainty about which direction leads where. I follow it to the training room, given it’s almost certainly where Armsmaster is waiting for me.

 

When I arrive, I see her sitting relaxed in the middle of the room, with a thoughtful look on her face.

 

“Ah, good, you’re here. We have a bit to discuss before we begin, so take a seat.” She gestures to the floor in front of her.

 

“Now then, I told you before what your Mom said about mana springs wasn’t quite right. We can leave it at that, if you want, it’s certainly plenty for your purposes, but if you’re curious, we can go over the details.”

 

Armsmaster seems strangely intense, like some part of it’s important to her. I wonder what it could be?

 

“Alright. I wouldn’t mind knowing,” I say.

 

She nods. “Okay. To begin with, this isn’t exactly common knowledge. It’s not hidden or a secret or anything, it’s more that it’s something scholars and the like care about and few else. We’ll start with a little history. First of all, magic isn’t natural to this world. Or at least, it wasn’t, it’s been around long enough to have become part of the ecosystem, but it didn’t start like that. A very, very long time ago, before I was around, even, something in the world broke. We don’t know what it was or how, but when it broke, it let through an energy. Mana, as it’s known now. The mana permeated the world, seeping into every crack and crevice, and changing the fundamental rules of existence. Over time, the people and animals began to generate mana of their own. Not much, and very slowly, but it came. Eventually they learned to harness it, shape to their own desire. Different people found they could harness different forms of mana, the various Affinities of today, and they leveraged the power it granted where they could. There were obviously numerous wars fought because of it, but that’s not relevant for now. What is, is that magic has a downside. Monsters.

 

“When you use magic, Valerie, the mana doesn’t vanish. It’s twisted and released into the atmosphere as a kind of waste, which begins to collect together over time until it coalesces and creates a physical vessel, or a monster. Originally, monsters were flawed things. They came out misshapen and crude, ineffectual as any kind of life. But as people came across these nascent monsters, they told each other about them. They exaggerated and lied and told tall tales, and that in people’s minds. The stories lingered in the waste mana they released, giving it a framework to build around, and then the monsters turned from a novelty to a threat.

 

“Now that brings us to mana springs, and their counterparts, siphons. Both are dangerous places for slightly different reasons. Siphons are special locations the world has adapted to draw in waste mana, collecting it so it doesn’t build up too much, otherwise the sentient races would be quickly overrun. It is then funneled down into the earth and filtered in such a way that purifies it, making it safe to return to the atmosphere. The now purified mana then travels along a network of channels called ley lines, where it reaches a mana spring and is returned to the surface.

 

“The problem with siphons is that in the process of drawing in waste mana, it’s inevitable that monsters will form there, and in large quantities. But, they’re also some of the safest places to live near if properly managed, and the monsters within are a valuable source of materials. They need to be managed because if they aren’t, then when the siphon becomes oversaturated, the barrier that keeps the monsters within weakens, allowing the horde to leave, which is obviously devastating to the local populace. So, they need to be cleared on a semi-regular basis. The other reason people gather around siphons is that when monsters die, they dissipate, as they are simply constructs formed of mana. But when they do they leave behind remnants of themselves. Teeth, claws, some hide, organs, or other, more esoteric remains. The energy that’s left in those pieces makes them very useful in enchantments, and the organic parts have value in alchemy as well.

 

“Finally we come to mana springs. Your Mom wasn’t wrong in there being large amounts of useful materials, and monsters are prolific in them. The materials come about from being exposed to large amounts of pure mana, which drastically exemplifies their natural properties. The monsters, on the other hand, are attracted to mana springs because pure mana sustains them, and in large quantities can make them stronger over time. It’s fairly common for powerful monsters to make a mana spring it’s territory, giving them a reliable source of food and constant growth.”

 

Armsmaster pauses in her lecture for a moment.

 

“An interesting side effect is that with an increase in power comes an increase in intelligence. The more powerful monsters are even capable of speech, which is likely how Sophie’s father came to an arrangement with the Manticore.”

 

I take some time to wrap my mind around all of that, as there was a lot. If monsters could pop up anywhere, and people often lived around places with the potential to blow if anything goes wrong, then things must be pretty tense for the people. I can only imagine how those living away from a siphon might deal with things, though I guess with most of the more powerful mages spending most of their time around siphons, given that’s where the cities usually are, maybe the waste mana isn’t so bad for them?

 

I do have a few other questions, though.

 

“What about Relics? How do they factor in to this?”

 

Armsmaster contemplates that for a moment. “An insightful question. Well, it works like this. When someone dies, or anything not a monster really, they release all the mana they contained as waste. If a Relic is used for the killing then it absorbs a large portion of that waste, which will typically carry with it the deceased’s pain, fear, anger, and other such negative emotions. They linger in the Relic, warping it. If it goes without taking in any waste mana for long enough, it will eventually filter out the negativity, but if it absorbs enough then it eventually turns Feral. The Armoury protects the Relics it fixes by making them immune to the waste mana’s deleterious effects. It drains some of the Relic’s power, as it gets redirected to create the necessary filter, but it’s a worthwhile trade, given the alternative.”

 

“Why do monsters attack people? Do they get something from it or are they just really aggressive?”

 

“A mix of both, for the younger, weaker ones. Their less developed minds make them rabid, and they lash out at anything that isn’t one of them. As for gaining something from it, mana springs are just one way for them to gain sustenance and power. They can also do it through the mana released by slaying living creatures. It isn’t as efficient, as they have to filter the waste mana first, but without access to a mana spring it’s generally their only option. A side effect of that is if they take in enough mana of a certain Affinity, they can also gain the ability to manipulate it to some extent. The older, stronger types, which are typically called Primals, recognise this, and actively seek out specific Affinities of their preferred type when they leave their lairs.”

 

“Sophie called the Manticore near her home a Matriarch,” I note, “Is that different from a Primal or just another name?”

 

“Primal is the general term for it,” Armsmaster says, “but when they become capable of speech, monsters will sometimes pick their own. Different species have their own preferences. Goblins have a King, the various bestial monsters will generally be a Patriarch or Matriarch, Demons have their own strange hierarchy, and undead will almost always become a Lich. It varies.”

 

The mention of language sticks with me for a moment, then a question arises that probably should have occurred to me sooner. “How do they learn the language? For that matter, how do Aunt Tamaya and Sophie know English? I get why Mom knows it, she’s been to Earth for a long time, but the others? That doesn’t make sense.”

 

She stares at me blankly. Then her face shifts into understanding and she chuckles, “I keep forgetting you weren’t born on Aldor. Valerie, what language do you think you’re speaking now? It’s certainly not English.”

 

I frown at that. Then I think over the whole conversation in that light.

 

Not a single word was in my native language, and I never noticed.

 

Realising that, I think back further, and I haven’t heard a lick of English since I put on the Awakening Stone.

 

“What the heck? How did I never notice that?” Talking is weird now that I realised I’ve been speaking a whole different language without realising. It’s going to take me forever to stop being hyper aware of that.

 

“You remember how the stories people told affected the shapes monsters took? It’s similar to that. The words are intertwined with the world's mana, meaning over time the disparate languages of the Aldor gradually shifted into one. You didn’t notice it because of the shock factor, likely. Your mind’s had to deal with a lot of changes these past two weeks. It likely shifted speaking to the subconscious for a bit until it could be dealt with at a later time. Like now.”

 

I sit there sorting that out in my head. I guess it makes sense. If mana could make creatures appear out of thin air, then why not meld all the languages together into one big amalgam.

 

Something tickled at the back of my mind, then I remember one last question.

 

“You said magic came about before you did. Were there any Guides present for it?”

 

She grins, “That would be pretty difficult, considering the prevailing theory is that Guides are created by magic combined with the collective consciousness of the sentient races.”

 

“Oh. Well now I feel silly. Wait, ‘prevailing theory’? You’re uncertain?”

 

“We don’t exactly grow on trees, Val,” Armsmaster says, “A new batch of Guides comes about every few thousand years, it’s not a very common occurrence at all.”

 

Hang on. Given everything she’s said, with her implied age and all, wouldn’t that mean there’d be tens of thousands of Guides?

 

But she told me there were only a few thousand when we first met.

 

So what happened to the others?

 

As if she could see the question begin to form, Armsmaster says, “I think we’ve covered all we need to for now. Next on the agenda, I’ve put together a little something to help you get accustomed to your speed when enhanced. I think you’re going to like it.”

 

My mind skips a little at how she changed gears, but I manage to follow along.

 

“Well? Are you going to tell me or make me guess?”

 

She gives me a look I can’t quite decipher. “I’ve found you learn best under stress, and there’s really only one way to exercise speed, agility, and reflexes in a high-stress environment that’ll truly push your limits.”

 

A shiver runs down my spine. “Oh, no.”

 

“Oh, yes.”

 

Her grin turns absolutely gleeful.

 

“I made an obstacle course.”

 

**************

 

“Why do I let you do this to me?!” Valerie cried.

 

“Probably because deep down you know it’s good for you?” Armsmaster chuckled.

 

The obstacle course she had devised likely wouldn’t be remotely legal in the world outside the Armoury. A veritable gauntlet of slashing blades, crushing walls, and gaps only just barely passable will under enhancement are just the tip of the sadistic iceberg. Thankfully for Valerie’s sanity, she can adjust the way the Armoury treats her projection, to an extent. For the purposes of the course, the construct Valerie’s inhabiting has been made extremely fragile, and her sense of pain completely neutralized.

 

It wouldn’t do to traumatise her charge, after all.

 

The girl in question had just begun her third attempt at the course, and already Armsmaster could see visible improvement. She’d begun to judge her timing better, her agility was closer to being fully utilised, and her reactions had become smoother as well. Less jerky.

 

Normally, Valerie wouldn’t have the mana to do something like this. Her control had come a fair ways, but she still had a long path ahead of her before her reserves would last that long. No, instead Armsmaster had made use of another benefit of Valerie’s astral projection.

 

Forced mana recovery.

 

The Armoury had access to an absolutely absurd amount of mana, and recovered it at an equally stupid pace. It was the work of a few moments to hook Valerie into that circuit on a switch. Now at the beginning of each run, Armsmaster would flip the switch, wait for her mana to refill, then turn it back off.

 

If Valerie were still in her body, this would be the very height of poor decision-making, but the soul is far more resilient than the flesh. Her body would be unable to handle the sudden shock of going from low mana to full in such a short amount of time, but her soul barely noticed the difference.

 

Seeing Valerie had begun to get the hang of the course, and the way it shifted with each run to prevent what she blithely referred to as ‘save scumming’, Armsmaster thought back on their earlier conversation.

 

Valerie had likely already figured out Armsmaster was among the oldest of Guides, but she had no way of knowing she was one of the first seven.

 

Nor could she ever guess Armsmaster had a hand in forging the very rules that bound her fellow Guides.

 

It was just the seven of them back then.

 

Seven young spirits without direction, each knowing far more than their youth implied, and each bearing a heavy responsibility.

 

They agreed, as a group, what they would do with themselves. They agreed, together, what role they would play.

 

Not one of them for a moment considered there might be consequences to that agreement.

 

It wasn’t until a few thousand years later that they discovered the price, when the next Guides manifested themselves in the Guidescape.

 

Where the seven had the choice, those who came after did not. They followed the rules, whether they liked it or not.

 

At first, they thought this to be no big deal. The rules were kept, and time moved.

 

But even immortals are worn down by time’s endless march. The choice the seven made allowed them to mourn their charges without it weighing too heavily, but the others?

 

They never got that choice.

 

Lost in grief, the Guides that came after became despondent, and halfhearted in their duties. Some actively rebelled where they could, others simply wasted away.

 

It was the Penitent who discovered the only way out of the endless cycle of loss.

 

Armsmaster didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget his name.

 

She knew the question Valerie was about to ask earlier.

 

It was for the best she not know that the only way for a Guide to die was to do it themselves.