After strapping the mace onto his back in a manner similar to Sidgroth's, Maxwell stepped out of the training building, back into the house, and then walked out onto the streets. The weight of the weapon felt oddly reassuring, as though it belonged there. He made his way towards Sidgroth where he was conducting his regular patrols.
There was one question that stayed in Maxwell's mind, one he felt only Sidgroth could answer.
As Maxwell walked through the streets, he couldn't help but be amazed at the enchanting town around him. Buildings seemed to vibrate with life, their designs infused with glowing runes and floating crystals. Streetlamps flickered gently with magical light, and vendors displayed their wares, many enhanced by some form of enchantments. But what truly caught his attention was the people.
Everywhere he looked, people were using their Ornaments effortlessly, as if it were second nature. To them, these abilities were as normal as breathing, an integral part of life in this world. What surprised Maxwell, however, was his own lack of wonder at the sight. Despite being new to this realm, he felt an familiarity with it all. The sight of Ornaments in daily life didn't spark confusion but rather recognition, as though his old world had shared this magical nature in some way.
"Why does this feel so... normal?" Maxwell murmured to himself as he continued walking.
In the corner of Maxwell's eye, something caught his attention, a trinket sitting among others at a vendor's stall. It was a runic tablet, faintly glowing with symbols, and a small sign placed near it read: "Reads the 'Numbers' of Anyone." Intrigued yet confused by the vague description, Maxwell made his way toward the vendor.
"Excuse me," Maxwell began, gesturing to the tablet. "I wanted to ask about this. What does it mean by 'reading the numbers' of people?"
The vendor, a grizzled man, perked up at the question. "Well, I'll be damned. You're the first to show any interest in that thing since I brought it here," he said, picking up the tablet and handing it to Maxwell. "Here, kid. Take it. I don't even care if I lose money on it, I just want it gone."
Maxwell hesitated, his hands just above the tablet. "Are you sure? I mean, I was just curious about what it does..."
The vendor cut him off. "If you keep pestering me, I'll charge you double instead of giving it away. Take it and go before I change my mind."
"R-right... Well, uh, thank you, sir." Maxwell accepted the tablet and stepped away from the stall, feeling a mix of gratitude and confusion as the vendor waved him off dismissively.
As Maxwell walked away from the stall, he came to the realization, the strange interaction might have been the result of his Ornament. His ability to influence luck could very well have swayed the vendor into giving away the tablet.
Curious about the mysterious object in his hands, Maxwell began to examine it more closely. The tablet on its surface was etched with intricate symbols that pulsed faintly with energy. He ran his finger across one of the runic marks.
The moment he made contact, the tablet hummed softly, and a small holographic screen flickered above it. On the glowing display, a single number appeared: 0.
Maxwell titled his head as he stared at the number. "Zero? What's that supposed to mean...?" he muttered.
Maxwell's eyes narrowed as he observed the tablet's reaction. When Gladiolus approached, the glowing number shifted from 0 to 37, and when Maxwell aimed it away, the number reverted to 0.
"Huh, that's interesting..." Maxwell muttered. He tested the device again, pointing it toward Gladiolus, and sure enough, the number jumped back to 37.
"Looks like this thing reacts when pointed at someone," Maxwell said thoughtfully, glancing at the large beast. Gladiolus tilted his head, his ears twitching as if to respond.
"What could this number mean? Strength? Power? Age?" Maxwell speculated. Intrigued, he decided to keep the device handy. Whatever it was, it seemed to interact with more than just objects—it reacted to living beings.
"This might come in handy later," Maxwell said, slipping the tablet into his pouch as he continued his walk through the streets.
"The ability to observe someone's number..." Maxwell murmured under his breath, "I swear there's more to this, like I could reduce someone's number... or maybe even increase it."
Though he couldn't fully grasp why, it felt instinctual, as if the tablet's power were something familiar with hin, just out of reach of conscious memory.
Maxwell turned his attention back to his surroundings. "Time to find Sidgroth," Maxwell said, refocusing.
After what felt like an hour, Maxwell finally spotted Sidgroth at the far end of the town square. The towering warrior was unmistakable, his warhammer slung over his back as he interacted with a shopkeeper. Maxwell quickened his pace to catch up.
"You're late, kid," Sidgroth said with a smirk, glancing over his shoulder as Maxwell approached.
"I had a few distractions," Maxwell replied, choosing not to mention the runic tablet just yet.
"I'm just glad you're here," Sidgroth said, motioning for Maxwell to follow.
The pair spent the next stretch of time walking through the town, checking in with various merchants and making sure everything remained peaceful. Sidgroth occasionally exchanged pleasantries with the townsfolk, while Maxwell observed in silence, still trying to piece together this new world.
Eventually, Sidgroth led them to a cozy-looking restaurant tucked into a quiet corner of the town.
"Lunch is on me," Sidgroth said, stepping inside. "Figured you'd need a good meal after all that wandering around."
Maxwell followed him in, the welcoming atmosphere of the restaurant already lifting his spirits. They found a table near the back, and a server soon came by to take their orders.
As they waited for their food, Maxwell leaned forward slightly. "So, Sidgroth... there's something I want to ask you."
Sidgroth glanced up from his plate, noticing the hesitant expression on Maxwell's face. "Something on your mind, kid?" he asked.
Maxwell shifted uncomfortably in his seat, lowering his voice slightly as if cautious of being overheard. "Do you know someone by the name Aemanil?"
Sidgroth raised an eyebrow, the question catching him off guard. "Aemanil, huh?" he said, leaning back slightly. "Ah, you must've spotted his name on that old painting back at the house." He nodded to himself before continuing. "Yeah, I know Aemanil. He's not exactly the type to speak with regular folk. He's the leader of the White Trial, why do you ask?"
Maxwell hesitated for a moment, glancing down at his hands. The name had lingered in his mind ever since he had read it on the painting.
"I... I don't know," Maxwell admitted. "When I saw his name, it felt... familiar. Like I should know who he is, but I can't remember why."
Sidgroth studied Maxwell for a moment, his expression turning more serious. "Aemanil is somewhat well known, kid. The White Trial is similiar in recognition to the Victorious Ten. A group you hear about casually. The grouo itself is ancient, practically legends in their own right. The mission of the White Trial has always been to root out sin and chaos, bringing balance to the world, or at least, that's how the stories go."
Maxwell frowned. "Balance? Is that really what they do, or is that just what people believe?"
Sidgroth chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "Depends on who you ask. Some call them heroes. Others see them as zealots who meddle too much in the affairs of others. Anyone tied to the White Trial usually has more than their fair share of secrets."
The mention of secrets made Maxwell's unease grow. "Do you think... they could be connected to me somehow? To why I'm here?"
Sidgroth leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "Hard to say. But if you're remembering their name, and that memory feels tied to your past, then it's worth paying attention to. Just be careful, Maxwell. If the White Trial really is involved, they're not the kind of people you want poking around your business—especially if you're as unique as Juno claims you are."
Maxwell nodded, his mind racing. "I'll keep that in mind."
Their conversation paused as the server returned, placing plates of steaming food in front of them. Questions surrounding Aemanil and the White Trial left an uneasy feeling on Maxwell's mind.
"Although, I should mention, the remaining members of the White Trial aren't exactly the same as they were during the Void War," Sidgroth remarked. "They've grown much older over the years, their strength and vigor have faded with time. Their ability to fight has all but diminished. It's a damn shame, really. Back in the Void War, they were forces to be reckoned with, and I had the privilege of fighting alongside them on a few occasions. But now, they're shadows of their former selves, no longer the warriors they once were."
Maxwell listened closely, intrigued by Sidgroth's words. "So they're not as powerful now? But they were strong back then?" Maxwell asked, trying to piece together the history.
Sidgroth nodded, "Much stronger. They were more than just warriors; they were symbols of order and justice. The kind of people who could change the fate of entire battles. But time, like it does with everyone, caught up with them. Their strength faded, and so did their influence." He paused for a moment. "The Void War was a different time. The stakes were higher, and the world needed those kinds of heroes."
Maxwell's curiosity grew. "And you fought alongside them? What were they like?"
Sidgroth gave a small, knowing smile, "They were... uncompromising. All about duty, honor, and balance. Everything was black and white for them. But you could tell they had their own convictions, their own ideals. They weren't perfect, but they had a kind of resolve that made them... formidable." He leaned forward, his tone shifting slightly. "But now, after the war, they've become shadows of what they once were. Still dangerous, yes, but not the same."
After their meal, the both of them fell into a silence as they sat for a moment, outside, Gladiolus was munching away, completely oblivious to the more serious matters at hand.
Once they had finished their food, Maxwell stood up from the table and made his way outside, Sidgroth already heading toward the exit. Maxwell, still intrigued by the runic tablet, secretly pointed it at Sidgroth's back as he walked ahead. The device hummed softly as a holographic display flickered to life, revealing Sidgroth's number. Maxwell blinked in surprise. The number was in the tens of thousands.
Why was Sidgroth's number so high? What did it mean? Maxwell's curiosity deepened, but he kept the information to himself for the moment. He pocketed the device and continued to follow.
"Hey kid, about the mace," Sidgroth said, his voice breaking the silence as they walked down the street. "You mentioned earlier that it felt familiar to you, right? Like it was something you had used before. What did you mean by that?"
Maxwell hesitated for a moment, not expecting Sidgroth to bring it up again so soon. He thought back to the way the weapon had felt in his hands, how it had almost seemed to fit him perfectly, as if it had been made for him.
"I don't really know how to explain it," Maxwell admitted. "When I held it, it just... clicked. Like I had used it before, but I don't remember when or how. It was like an instinct, you know? The weight, the feel—everything about it felt... right."
Sidgroth nodded, as if he were considering Maxwell's words carefully. "Instinct, huh?" He seemed deep in thought for a moment. "Maybe it's more than just a coincidence. Or maybe, whatever power you've got, it's not just influencing your luck. Maybe it's awakening something inside you that you didn't know was there."
Maxwell couldn't help but wonder if Sidgroth was onto something. "Do you think that's possible?"
Sidgroth gave a half-smile, his gaze focused on the path ahead. "In this world? Anything's possible, kid."
"Maxwell, you can hold onto that mace, but there's one condition," Sidgroth smirked, his tone playful but serious.
"Huh, what condition is that?" Maxwell asked.
"I'm going to train you and Gladiolus," Sidgroth replied. "If you're going to wield that weapon, you need to be able to use it properly. You have potential, but potential alone won't be enough, especially in this world. And as for Gladiolus, he needs to learn how to control himself if he's going to be by your side."
Maxwell blinked, the idea of formal training taking him by surprise. "Wait, you mean both of us? You'll train us together?"
Sidgroth nodded. "Yes. You'll learn discipline, control, and strength. Gladiolus is still wild, and you—well, you're still trying to figure out your place. Both of you will need to trust in the training if you want to survive the road ahead."
Maxwell could feel the weight of Sidgroth's words. "Alright, Sidgroth. We'll follow your lead."
"Good," Sidgroth said, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "because if you want to keep that mace and make it yours, you're going to have to put in the work."
Maxwell's road ahead was now slowly being paved out, the once clouded path was beginning to clear. With Sidgroth's training, Gladiolus by his side, and a growing sense of purpose, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The weight of his new weapon, the mace, was no longer just a weapon—it was a reminder of the journey he had ahead.
A journey that would test not just his strength, but his very identity...