The room behind the doors was slightly larger than the storefront.
It was sparse—minimalistic—but a few metal parts were scattered around like it doubled as a storage space.
Aside from that, there were only two long couches. Oras sat on one and gestured for Caelen to take the other.
What Oras really wanted was to see whether Caelen was worth helping.
Yes, Idel had sent him, but that wasn't enough. Oras had to judge for himself.
As a magus and a researcher, he knew about double crests—and more importantly, he knew none of their known bearers had ever been successfully controlled.
Not that Oras wanted to control him like a weapon.
But if he was going to invest his time and knowledge, he needed to know the boy could make a difference. Not just in strength, but in character.
If Caelen turned out to be a tyrant in the making, someone who would turn against magi or others once he had power, then all of it would be for nothing.
So, Oras had to test him.
From Caelen's perspective, though, Oras seemed rather harmless—kind, maybe even a bit naive.
Aside from the way he'd reacted when Caelen told him about Idel's death, he hadn't shown any edge.
His clean-shaven face and soft, rounded features only added to the impression. He looked more like a friendly merchant than a teacher of magic.
"Caelen, right?" Oras began. "I won't beat around the bush. Do you understand what kind of responsibility you took on from Idel?"
The question caught Caelen off guard. At the time, he'd taken Idel's research mostly because the old man had trusted him and there was no one else.
But he had thought about it since.
This mission assumed the barbarians were in the wrong. No—it assumed they were the villains.
"Yes, I do. And I don't plan to give up halfway."
Oras tilted his head. "Are you sure you do? If you follow this path, it might lead to a day when you'll have to fight your own parents."
Caelen's breath caught. "That won't happen. I know my parents. They're not bad people. If they did something wrong, they were probably deceived."
That answer made Oras pause. He didn't know who Caelen's parents were, but it wasn't the kind of reply he expected.
Still, he pressed on.
"I'm not asking what kind of people they were. I'm asking—if it turns out they weren't deceived... if you're wrong... are you ready to confront them?"
Caelen went quiet.
What if he was wrong? What if the Barbarian Trio were on the wrong side?
"...No, I'm not ready. Not now. Even if I tried, I wouldn't stand a chance."
He looked up, steadying himself.
"But I'll get there. When the time comes, if they're on the wrong side... I'll bring them back to the right one."
Oras didn't respond right away. But this answer surprised him—in a good way.
Magi always sought peaceful solutions first.
And this boy might actually believe in them, too.
And it seemed Caelen's mind was more in tune with the magi.
The body of a barbarian and the mind of a magus... this boy is lucky.
It could have easily been the other way around.
Naturally, his crests would develop their respective domains—his body strengthened by the Crest of War, and his mind by the Crest of Knowledge.
But in this case, his body and mind already aligned with their strengths. The crests were simply reinforcing what was already there.
"Alright then. I'll take you."
Caelen blinked. "Uh... take me where?"
"You're a bit slow for a magus," Oras replied. "Must be all those years among barbarians. Don't worry—I'll fix that. I meant I'll take you as my disciple."
"Huh? Disciple? I don't think that's why Idel sent me here..."
"Then what else would he have sent you for?" Oras leaned back with a grunt. "If you're worried about time, don't be."
"But you..." Caelen didn't finish the sentence, but his glance at Oras's missing hand said enough.
"I don't need a crest to train you. Favia is my disciple too."
Caelen's eyes widened. Favia? He'd seen her knock out four barbarians by herself. And she was trained by him?
"Favia!" Oras called.
She walked in a few moments later. "What?"
She definitely didn't act like a student. Caelen remembered the way she talked back when they'd first entered the shop.
"He'll be staying with us for a while. Show him around. Then take him there."
"There? Seriously? Is he ready?"
"He needs to go because he is not ready. It should be fine. If not, help him through it."
"If you say so..." She turned to Caelen. "Come on."
Caelen had no idea what there was, but he followed her anyway.
***
"Uhm... Ms. Favia, where are we going?"
"Just Favia is enough. If he's going to teach you, you don't have to be so formal."
"Ah, sure. Then... Favia, where are we going?"
"I'm just going to show you around Elarith-17."
"We never really talked about that, did we? Why is this place called Elarith-17?"
"Are you some kind of sheltered kid? Let me guess, your parents are war heroes?"
Caelen's eyes widened. He wasn't sheltered—far from it. He'd been training his whole life.
"Yes, they are. But I'm not sheltered!" he snapped. "My parents never let me slack off."
"Sigh... Maybe not by your standards. But compared to other barbarians? Probably. Let me guess again—you're from Yria."
Caelen froze. Yria was the capital of Barbara. He'd lived there until he was fifteen.
Favia didn't wait for an answer. His reaction said everything.
"Sigh..." she sighed second time in a row. "Your parents must be important. Not many get to live in Yria."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Caelen asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
"Everything," she said plainly. "One last guess—you've been wondering why Oras doesn't get his hand healed, haven't you?"
"I—..."
"Let me teach you a bit about this world," Favia said.