Today luck just seems to be on my side. I can barely keep myself from laughing hysterically at how everything is starting to turn out. Best of all, this required little to no effort on my part, for once, this is all Anselm.

The personification of the answer to my problems stands erect at the door, his black hair seemed to suck up all the light and distract from his blue eyes, eyes that quickly dimmed down in excitement upon recognizing me.

However, these are not the most interesting things to mention about the moody prepubescent boy standing in the doorway.

In his free hand he carried the most particular items; a spiked mace and a military uniform. I can only imagine this has more or less something to do with the common interest Anselm and Mevir seem to have discovered in the short period between my latest near death experience.

Regardless, I smile. "Hello. Mevir was it? I am Asher."

Mevir barely tosses me a glance, quite the opposite in fact, as he attempts to look over my shoulder and into the house.

"Are you looking for something," No response, he still insists on looking over my shoulder.

"Are you looking for someone, Mevir?" At last, his eyes slowly come up to mine and his lips part as he starts off the first words.

"I-"

"Who is at the door!" Anselm's yell is particularly irritating at this moment as Mevir instantly shuts his mouth and looks at me expectantly.

Well, I guess I can consider this a well-deserved break. I'm tired of talking to the locals anyway.

"It's Mevir, our gracious host." I announce loudly, "Would you like to come in, Mevir? Or do you want me to take those off your hands and give them to Anselm."

"Well let him in already!"

Again, I lose the opportunity to converse even in the slightest with the brooding child. Quite not sure why I even bother myself, the boy is just like Anselm, if I get him talking, he'll likely not stop.

I step to the side and let Mevir in, the boy nods politely at me as he walks past me and into the house, head bouncing from side to side looking for Anselm.

"Why not head to the dining room? Anselm will be right out."

He nods and expertly navigates his way through what is literally his property. With him out of the way and waiting, I head into the room and meet Anselm halfway.

"An exciting interest you two have. What is it?"

Rolling his eyes at me he says nothing but makes a face that lets me know I wouldn't really care even if I was told. It's a common face of his, he uses it every time he doesn't want to talk about something but this time, I've got to be certain.

"Come on, tell me. The kid has a mace and a uniform with him out there." At these words Anselm's eyes quickly because saucers and his mouth a rest stop for passing flies.

Snapping my fingers several times over his face I bring him back to me and repeat the question. This time he really looks at me, or tries to look through me.

With a huff he soon resigns, "It's about Riveden. Or rather Saia."

Saia? I've never heard of, but Riveden, that I know. Riveden is or was the place Anselm was born. He also served under a Knight of Riveden and often boasts about it when he loses himself.

From what either of us know or can tell, Riveden is gone, or relocated entirely. Even in the maps that Leriva had at her disposal, the name Riveden was never written on any of them.

"What does he know about it?" Is my immediate response. This could be a breakthrough for us, for Anselm in his search for his home, in his search for how long he's been dead and the outcome of the war he marched into.

Without any prompts or hints I can quickly and confidently say Anselm is an old ghost. Left at his death place by Anera, the Goddess. Anselm has the bare minimum understanding of magic, he called me Great when I first announced I was a Mage and his Knightly ways of honour and glory are severely outdated that even here, the title of Knight is something out of a fairy tale.

Anselm is living in an era much different from his and the only common thing to it and this one is the Diviners. When I asked Anselm about the Diviners so long ago, he had an answer to give, a useful one too.

This means that the Synagogue is just as old if not older than Anselm. Their records would be the only ones that could possibly hold any relevant information about Riveden and the war Anselm died in, but alas, I am their enemy.

This is why Mevir mentioning Riveden is full of potential, there's a lot we can learn, a lot Anselm deserves to know.

"He read about it, his father, his Matron, they force him to study all sorts of things but he was really interested in Riveden, in Saia."

I shake my head and roll my eyes, "Okay, first of all, these kids are obviously Nobles of the highest calibre," Anselm snorts and rolls his eyes as if to say 'duh', "Second of all, back up, what the heck is Saia?"

Anselm breathes at this, "Well, Saia is the name of the Kingdom I was born in, and Riveden? Well, Riveden was its capital city, according to Mevir anyway."

I have a lot more to ask but I think it's time to let him go, he'd be better equipped to tell me all about…him, once he learns and maybe even remembers what and who he is in detail. Mevir will certainly help the effort.

I slap my hand on his shoulder and renew the Summon Spirit spell that keeps him around, I have a feeling they'll be talking about Saia and Riveden for a while. "I think you ought to go, can't keep your guest waiting," He nods, a hint of nervousness on him. Hilarious when you realize he is simply going to speak to a child, "You tell me all about it when you're done though."

With that I step aside and let him go find his answers.

***

True enough, the two stay in the dining room for an extended period of time. I hear a lot of laughter and a lot of things breaking which worries me a bit, but I don't see Anselm running to me about a murder so I don't think I should be too distressed at the chaos sown in the room.

Frankly, I've come down with a serious case of FOMO.

Is it FOMO though? I'm already missing out on a most certainly fun experience with Anselm and Mevir. Bah!

Unfortunately, it does serve to highlight how much time I've spent with Anselm lingering around, with his presence ever hanging over head; lightly judging me. A bit hilarious too when I picture the extreme loner I used to be back in my world.

Loner by choice, my choice. Cool guy I was, cool guy I've always been I just couldn't handle the crowd of people slobbering around me all the time. Family?

Nope, I was a wanted man or rather, a man the police heavily suspected for having participated in gang related crimes.

Friends? Well, I did have acquaintances and work buddy's I couldn't and wouldn't trust because of the inherent nature of my work. Always having to venerate some fat sob or some pervert because…gangs.

Either way, him being away for once in such a long time has me reflecting on the fact that I lived my life, my first life on my knees, with my fingers crossed and with eyes behind my back, never trusting anyone not to screw with me, not to turn me over, not to end my life.

A life on edge, a life of thrill and adrenaline filled adventure that's for sure. But a tired life all the same.

Now all I want is to…to live a good life. Maybe not an honest one but a good one all the same. And here? In this wide expanse with Gods, cults and wisps of lingering emotion. Well, I think this place is just chaotic enough to afford me the right balance of a well-lived life, and I'm looking forward to having Anselm by my side for it all.

For the second time tonight there comes a knock on the door. Relief washes over me as I've been wondering when Audwin would make it back with my things, I have food in there I still plan on eating, particularly the stiff meats. So chewy and I've been feeling terribly hungry.

I'm aware the bell still sat there undisturbed and there probably were several maids getting set to deliver to my demands but I just couldn't be the one to disrupt Anselm's meeting. I've got a feeling if Audwin or if any of the staff peeked Mevir in here this late, they'd cut the chitchat short and we'd end up having to pick it up tomorrow.

Unfortunately, tomorrow is reserved for travel to Aste, it might just be a hop and skip away from this beautiful mansion but Leriva is still dying.

Swinging the door open and making sure to position myself in the right way so he doesn't get any peeks past me, I greet, "Good evening, Audwin. Got my stuff?"

But it's not Audwin. The distinctly feminine gasp and light chuckle certainly didn't come from the stone-faced strict D-rank Spell caster.

"Why hello." She smiles at me, there's a mothering feel to the sound of her voice and by the way she's dressed; long black gown with flowery white puffs at the sleeves and neck. I determine she must be the Matron.

"Oh." Is all I can say, distracted by the familiar yet foreign tingling feeling that reverberates through my body just by having her stand a foot away.

"I am the Matron of this lodge, will you let me in?" her voice is soothing, kind and her caramel eyes crinkle with her smile, glistening with care and love.

Then I blurter out, "You're an Elf."

And it all disappears, "Oh."

***

"You're an Elf."

"Oh."

The shock at my words reflects on her face. Her eyes deaden and her lips part slightly with an incline of disappointment. It may as well mirror my own reaction to the words that spill out my mouth.

"I'm sorry!" I exclaim the next moment, "It just- I just felt you- not that I felt you up or anything I mean- Uh, that uh I saw you and I felt you and it..." I would go on scrambling for my words and struggling to put them all together if not for her tender graces and mercy.

"Oh!" this time cheerily, "You mean you sense the mass pools of mana that are innate to the Elves the moment you saw me?"

Swiftly I bob my head up and down to save myself any further embarrassment from the misuse of my tongue.

"Well then there's no harm done! Although…" she reaches up to her hair and ties it back, "I did sacrifice my usual look so as not to offend you with…hmm." She stops, saying no further of the wide prejudice and inhospitality the elves are victim to.

"Oh, no, you couldn't offend me with that, I've got elven friends!" I say with cheer.

She keeps on her kind smile as her eye flickers between me and the inside of the house.

"Oh! I'm sorry, did you want to come in? Uh, please do!" I shut myself up before I can trip up on my words anymore and step to the side letting her in.

She steps past me into the house and pulls of her gloves as she surveys the place a bit, her nose twitching at something, "Ah, Mevir is here."

The shock on my face only widens her bright smile and puts up a light in her eye, "Oh don't worry, I'm not here to bust whatever it is he's up to with your companion," she waves me off and steps into the one of the free rooms, the living room I'm assuming as there's a chair, couches and a fire place all provided and arranged around a single flat short table set in the centre.

I follow after her and take a seat on the single seater couch adjacent to the long one she seats on. "I'm not sure what they're talking about in there either, but it's been going on for a while." I say, trying to make conversation as I'm still not sure why she's here.

The elven woman noticeably has aged features on her, from the way she took a seat, as though there's an ache in her knees that simply won't give, to the way her wrinkles become pronounced each time she tosses that grandmotherly smile.

From the little I know about elves and any of the other fantasy races, they either age much slower or faster than humans. Goblins I know for certain age much fast and in the media, I consumed in my past life I know elves age much slower, living long and youthful lives, something that is likely the envy of many human women or just people seeking immortality of some sort.

By that logic, or what summary of facts I've garnered, I think I can safely conclude that this woman is over a hundred years in age. Elderly and most important; knowledgeable.

"They mentioned something about Riveden and Saia before leaving me all by myself." I add, trying to steer the conversation towards the history, the fleshed-out history of this world and perhaps even Anselms origins. But she keeps sniffing around the room, her nose twitch at everything like a rabbit nomming on carrots.

"Hm." Is all she says. Her head still twisting and turning.

Ahhh. What do I do now?

"Do you know anything about these places?" I spit it out at last.

"An old kingdom, a very old kingdom…" she trails off, her sniffing and twitching nose beginning to slow down. Odd. "The Young Masters Lord demands I drill the children in the history of the lands. Saia is the only fallen Kingdom that piques the children's interests…a lot of wars." She sighs.

"Mhm…" is all I say, hoping she'd continue.

"Well!" She straightens up all of a sudden, scaring me a bit, "History is not what I'm here for my dear!" she grins at me.

…

"What are you here for?" I ask after she doesn't elaborate herself.

"I am glad you asked, I'm here to inquire. Why are you fighting the Cult when you can barely even protect yourself from the lingering wisps?"

A bit condescending but true nonetheless.

"I'm a Mage."

"I know that. In fact, I just learned that at the door. Only Mages can perceive the difference, subtle as it is between a supressed elf and a human. You must be very sensitive to mana." She shakes her head and continues, "But you don't know how to combat the wisps and according to Audwin you didn't even know what they were. I can see plainly you've received no formal training in Magic, or have you?"

"No but-" I try to explain that I don't need formal training.

"Then why are you fighting the Cult of Phien? They are much more dangerous than the common wisp lingering on the roadside you know?"

I scoff, "You have no idea."

At this she hums.

"Oh, I mean…" I let out an exasperated sigh as I finally ask myself why I'm actively filtering my words with this woman.

Right, she's the Matron of this place and she reserved the right to kick us out and leave out carriage broken.

I decide to start with the truth then, unfiltered. "I mean, I'm from Carbina village."

"The village trying to become a city? A barony?" she snorts. "You must be truly desperate then; your Mayor is an apostate, isn't she?"

"I suppose… But the sin is hers alone, I barely made it out of there alive," It's not a complete lie, just a lot of omission. "We need help, we need any Mage that will fight- I can pay even."

This time she outright laughs, "Pay? To fight the Cult? Only the Following have achieved such feats as far as I know." She tuts, shaking her head at me, "You really are uneducated. This is not a domestic matter my dear. This is not a task any mere Mage will undertake…" She pauses and thinks for a second.

"Well, perhaps the Hunters will be foolhardy enough to accept your…challenge. But the smartest and hence the strongest of them know better than to throw their lives away on such a quest."

"The Cult isn't so impenetrable. I've fought them, I have lived." I bit my lip as the anger bubbles within me. It can't be that the Magic wielders of this world are so…cowardly could it? "I've protected Carbina for…longer than I can do on my own now. I know they aren't undefeated because I have beaten them and I intend to!"

She blinks at me and calmly says, "But you just need an extra hand." A smirk crawls on her face as she succeeds in getting a rise out of me for a second.

Is this what this old woman came here to do? To discourage me? To push me away from the Cult? Well, I've got other reasons to pike their heads other than Carbina, I won't be dropping this foolhardy quest anytime soon.

"It would take at least a B-rank Mage to defeat a single one of the Cultist Gamma warriors."

"Gamma warriors? You mean the Generals?"

"Generals?" She scoffs, "I suppose you could call them that, although I'd say that rank would belong to the Beta warriors, the actual threats as we know."

"There are more? More powerful than the Generals? The Gammas?"

She puts on that grandmotherly smile again and says, "Of course there are. The Synagogue isn't simply just clearing them out, you know that don't you?"

Here I take a big bite out of humility and admit, "No, I don't know anything about the Cult, all I know is that they hurt people, they take control of their minds and make puppets, mindless, magic wielding puppets out of everyone."

"Well, the mindless are the pawns of Phien and his warriors." She begins to explain, "As far as we know, or as far as the Synagogue wants people at my station to know, there are three levels to the warriors."

"The Gamma, Beta and Omega?"

"Alpha, but yes, you're catching on." The little praise has me bubbling within, "The Following is generally in charge of dispatching the Gammas, the lowest of Phien's servants. We have only ever seen one Beta, or maybe there has been more, information flow on this is restricted. The Beta is…terrifyingly strong I've been told. At least one S-rank or several A-rank Mages will be needed to take it out. I cannot begin to imagine the horror of an Alpha...but according to the words of the Beta Warriors the S-ranks took out...an Alpha certainly exists out there."

I exhale deeply as she stops there and take it all in. These are just Gammas. I have been struggling with the weakest of the chaff…Fuck.