Travel to the capital Monarek was intentional and arduous. Larin kept pace with his aunts, Tyrs and Mynta, whose pace together was irresistible. Days blended into other days—stretches of running punctuated by brief meals, nights under the open sky, and training. There was an atmosphere heavy with unspoken implication: the looming shadow of the Kirat Empire grew with every step.
On the first evening, they stopped by Popy Stream, a tranquil brook cutting through the thick foliage. Here, they hunted Sleen Eels for their meal.
Tyrs crouched low by the water's edge, her spear poised with lethal precision. "Patience, Larin. You're not fighting the eel, you're predicting it." She thrust her spear in a blur, retrieving her catch with a satisfied grin.
Mynta, standing ankle-deep in the stream, sent a small ripple of magic through the water, stunning an eel. She plucked it up with a flourish. "Efficiency and elegance," she said smugly.
Larin, watching them both, shook his head with a laugh. With a quick incantation, he used his wand to manipulate the water, drawing an eel directly into his grasp. "I'll stick to practicality."
It was an ordinary meal of shared food; the eels were roasted, their scales and bones saved to craft, while their oil is carefully extracted and left for later. The night came and went silently, with only the sound of the stream lulling them to sleep.
By the second day, it started to change as the dense forest gave way to rolling plains; soon they were at Sihka Village. It was an important trading centre with 100 homes and was exactly at the middle of Xiaxo and the Kirat Empire, though the people spoke a mixture of both languages and cultures.
Larin picked up on it immediately. The villagers were attired in flowing cyan nightsilk robes, heads covered but faces exposed, and every style as varied as the individuals themselves.
"It's interesting," Tyrs said, her tone neutral as she regarded the blend of practicality and aesthetics. "It looks like they value individuality here, even within a uniform tradition."
"An illusion of freedom," Mynta observed. "The Kirat are excellent at making conformity look like choice."
They booked a small inn's separate rooms and made their way to the Weeping Tavern, renowned for its Elder Stag whisky and roasted stag meat. Aromatic charred meat and spiced spirits swirled around them, and soon they relished the delicacies of the place.
The warmth of the whisky began to loosen their mood when a young woman approached. Her cyan nightsilk hood framed vibrant red hair that peeked out in soft waves. Her face was calm, but her hands betrayed a slight tremor. She bowed lightly, extending her left hand in the formal Kirat manner.
Larin raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
I'm sorry for interrupting," the woman said, her voice steady but soft. "My name is Tyrapi. Can I speak to you for just one moment?"
Tyrs leaned back and grinned. "Direct. I like that."
Mynta smirked over at Larin. "Don't worry. We're not letting her sweep you off ."
Larin sighed, putting down his drink. "Go on. What do you need?
Tyrapi hesitated, then took a deep breath. "My family is in trouble. Our land is failing, and I need the help of a true magi. I saw you and hoped. perhaps you could assist us."
"True magi aren't merciful," Tyrs said sharply.
"I know," Tyrapi said, bowing her head. "But I had no other choice."
Larin gestured for her to sit. "Explain.
Tyrapi explained her situation with quiet dignity. Her parents had passed away, and she was managing the estate as the eldest sibling at forty years old. Though she was an Apprentice magi, her skills weren't enough to save the land. A crucial 20-acre plot had become barren, its mana drained, threatening the livelihoods of her workers and family.
"It's more than I can handle alone," she admitted. "I thought Xiaxoan magic, with its connection to the land, might succeed where I've failed."
Larin exchanged a look with Tyrs and Mynta. The two women nodded almost imperceptibly.
"We'll help," Larin said simply.
Tyrapi's estate was far grander than any of them had anticipated. Spanning over 100 acres, it rivaled a small city in scale, complete with high stone walls, sprawling gardens, and meticulously maintained paths. At the gate, heavily armed guards greeted them, their armor gleaming under the sun.
"You live modestly," Mynta quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Tyra pi blushed. "Our family's fortune's linked to this farm. If it fails, everything does."
It was not apparent from outside, though. Inside, the decline was visible in workers listlessly moving through half-tended fields and in the faint whisper of decay carried in the air. When they reached the barren 20-acre piece of land, it was an unmitigated desolate expanse of cracked soil and wilting vegetation.
Larin crouched, placing a hand on the ground. He channeled a small pulse of mana into the earth, only to feel it dissipate into nothingness.
"There's no mana flow," he said, frowning. "The land is completely dead."
"We'll need to infuse it manually," Tyrs said. "It'll take days, maybe weeks, depending on how deep the damage goes."
And we'll need natural mana sources to stabilize it," Mynta added. "Streams, stones, whatever we can find."
Tyrapi looked between them, her face both hopeful and desperate. "Whatever you need, I'll provide. Just tell me how to help."
Tyrs placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "You'll have to trust us. Our methods aren't exactly. imperial-friendly."
Tyrapi hesitated, then nodded resolutely. "Do what you must. My family's survival depends on it.
While working, they debated the approach they should use.
"The stream nearby could help," Larin said. "We can just redirect it through the field to kick-start the natural mana cycle."
"And we can also use some of our manacite to create an artificial mana reservoir," Mynta added.
"We are going to need a ward system to prevent further depletion," Tyrs said. "This cannot happen again.
It was a daunting task, but the three of them moved with precision and determination, Tyrapi assisting where she could. The work was slow, but every pulse of mana they poured into the land brought it one step closer to life.
As the first sprouts of green poked their heads through the earth, Tyrapi's tears flowed. "Thank you," she whispered. "You've already done more than I could have hoped."
Larin rose, his sweat-dampened brow shining. "We're not finished yet. But we'll see your land grows healthy again."
And so, side by side, they toiled, crossing that divide between Xiaxoan magic and Kirat necessity.
And when the stars had filled the evening sky, Larin heaved a great sigh of relief and said, "Now, we only have to do the Hsa Ritual to secure our works and ask for guidance."