13 | P a g e The woman who’d spoken, a member of the B-ranked party Counter Arrow, was dark-skinned with dreadlocks pulled into a bun. She wore a chest protector and gauntlets—relatively light armor, but a bit more than what a typical swordswoman would go for. Her professional class was most likely a Warrior. The young magician slowly looked at her and tried his best to smile. It only served to startle her. The boy might have intended it to be a friendly smile, but there was no emotion in it whatsoever. It was like the eerie grin of a wax statue. “I’m sorry; was I sighing? Don’t worry about it, miss. I’m just fine.” He’d spoken loudly and energetically, but his eyes were still lifeless and his expression was still gloomy. It was obvious that he wanted to be left alone. The warrior wasn’t about to give up. “Okay, then. So why are you heading up north, anyway?” She’d half expected the young magician to ignore her completely. With that in mind, getting any response at all was a decent start. “Huh? Uh, does that…really matter, miss?” “I mean, I’m guessing you’re a magician, but you haven’t even come of age yet, right? Did you just graduate from some academy? If you’re looking for adventure, I’d start somewhere a little safer than the Northern Territories.” This gloomy magician did look young, to be fair. He might have been twelve, or perhaps thirteen—almost a child, really. Before responding, he made another attempt at a smile. It didn’t go any better than before. “Sorry, but is there a reason I need to answer any of these questions?” His reply amounted to a blunt refusal to participate in the conversation. This young man clearly had no interest at all in chatting. Evidently, he wanted to wallow in his misery until the carriage reached its destination.