Albert rested his hands on the counter. "How can we help you?"
I was still reaching for the stool, easing myself onto it. The shorter man stepped forward, his voice smooth. "I'm looking for a lightweight talisman."Albert gave a slow nod, already sliding open a drawer behind the counter. "A popular request. How much weight are we talking?"
"As much as you can offer," the short man said. "The more it lightens, the better. And it needs to last."
Albert raised an eyebrow. "Endurance and potency. Pricey combination."
The tall man shifted slightly behind his companion, giving the place a once-over. His eyes lingered on the glowing orbs on the walls, the rune-etched shelves, then me. He didn't speak, but the air around him felt heavy.
Albert didn't seem fazed. He reached up to the highest shelf and brought down six scrolls, each wrapped with thin copper wire. He set them carefully on the table between us.
"These are my best," he said, voice even. "Each one can reduce up to a thousand kilograms. Duration's roughly three to four hours, though you'll feel the effect start to taper after two."
The short man examined them closely. He didn't touch them, just studied the runes with narrow eyes. "Are they stable in high flux fields? My associate and I often work around raw arcane pressure."
Albert tilted his head, mildly impressed. "They've been tested under compression fields, yes. They hold up well. Just don't layer them with absorption glyphs—it throws the balance."
The tall man finally spoke, voice low and gravelly. "What if they do get layered?"
"They won't explode," Albert said dryly. "But you'll get a nasty rebound. Break a knee if you're unlucky. Neck if you're stupid."
The big man grunted, apparently satisfied.
"So," Albert folded his arms. "How many are you taking?"
The short man ran a thumb over his chin. "All six."
Sera, seated nearby, blinked. "All six?"
"How much?" he asked, glancing up again.
"Eighty golden crowns apiece," Albert replied without pause.
At that, the red-haired giant stepped forward abruptly, eyes narrowing. "That's steep."
The shorter man lifted a hand, calm and practiced. "Easy, Halgrim."
From beneath his cloak, he produced a heavy leather pouch and placed it gently on the counter. The coins inside shifted with a soft jingle of wealth.
"Five hundred crowns," he said. "We'll take the set."
Albert didn't flinch. "Fair."
He handed the pouch to Sera. "Remove seventy."
She started counting immediately, fingers deft over the coins.
"Name?" Albert asked, already retrieving a form from beneath the counter.
"Cantona," the man replied.
Albert nodded and wrote quickly, his script sharp and professional. "Alright, Cantona."
After signing the document himself, he passed the form to Cantona, who reviewed it with a glance before signing his name in clean, practiced strokes.
Albert turned to a device embedded in the shelf—a squat metallic mechanism with two thin rods and a glowing orb floating between them. He pressed the contract against it and fed a small stream of Acarna into the orb. The glow pulsed once, twice… then a soft click echoed and a parchment duplicate slid out from a slot below.
"Your copy," Albert said, handing the original back along with a smaller coin pouch. "Seventy crowns returned. Ten percent discount—bulk purchase, and for new clients."
Cantona offered a slight nod. "Appreciated."
The red-haired Halgrim gathered the scrolls into a leather satchel, eyes never leaving the rest of the room. I could feel him scanning everything—me included.
They turned toward the door.
But just before they stepped outside, Cantona paused and glanced over his shoulder.
"If these perform as promised," he said quietly, "make more. I may return."
Albert inclined his head. "You'll be welcome."
The bell above the door jingled softly as they left.
"Wow," I muttered, watching the door swing shut behind the two strangers. The bell gave a soft chime that felt far too delicate for the weight of what had just happened. "Four hundred and thirty golden crowns... just like that?"
Albert was already moving, calm as ever, collecting the empty box the scrolls had come in. Like this was just another normal day.
I drifted over to the counter, still staring at the pouch Sera had just finished counting. The coins gleamed like they were smug about it. "That's more money than I've ever seen in one place. What even needs that much weight reduced?"
Albert didn't even glance up. "Cargo. Equipment. Armor. People."
He said it like listing off soup ingredients.
Sera, crouched by the low table with a careful pile of coins in front of her, raised an eyebrow. "Or things they don't want anyone knowing they're carrying."
Albert gave her a flat look as he shut the drawer. "Let's not speculate."
"Sure," she said lightly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Just… saying."
I leaned my elbows against the counter, still eyeing the drawer like it might fly open and spill golden secrets all over the floor. "You always get customers like that?"
Albert shook his head. "No. First order that big in... mm." He squinted toward the ceiling, as if the answer was written in the cobwebs. "Three years? Give or take."
I frowned. "They seemed kind of... serious. Like, soldier-serious."
"They're serious people," Albert replied, sliding a chalkboard back into place on the shelf. "But they paid full price, didn't haggle, and left without causing trouble. That's the kind I can live with."
I wasn't convinced.
"They said they might come back."
"I heard," Albert said calmly. "I'll be ready if they do."
Sera stood and stretched, the bandage on her arm pulling a little. "What if they're part of something bigger? Like… a rogue faction, or a smuggling ring?"
Albert gave a dry grunt as he tucked the receipt scroll into the ledger. "Then we'll find out when it finds us."
I let out a breath, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "That's... comforting."
Albert gave the counter a quick tap. "Go dust the left shelf, boy. If we're getting more of those types, I'd like the place to look like it's been open longer than a week."
I smirked and grabbed the rag from the hook by the sink. "Yes, sir. Professional front for professional problems."
Sera snorted. "Now that's the right attitude."
...
I had just finished wiping down the last shelf when Albert's voice drifted in from outside.
"Kael. Out here."
I dropped the cloth, dusted my palms against my pants, and stepped into the courtyard. The midday sun met me like a slap—warm, sharp, and blinding after the cool shade inside.
Albert stood near the old stone bench, arms crossed, something familiar dangling from one hand.
My training weights.
Reforged. The alloy gleamed with freshly etched runes—sharper, deeper. They pulsed with a slow, rhythmic light, like a second heartbeat.
He held them out without a word.
I stared at them like they'd grown teeth. "Oh," I muttered. "I almost forgot these punishments existed."
Albert gave the faintest twitch of a smile—equal parts pride and cruelty. "They missed you."
I picked up the right anklet. It was cold. Then warm. Then heavy. Not in weight, but in intent—like it carried memory now. Or expectation.
"You changed something."
"I improved something," he said flatly.
"Same thing," I muttered, strapping it on. My muscles immediately protested. "Did you… make them meaner?"
"They'll adapt faster. Push harder. You're not a beginner anymore."
"Generous of you," I grunted, clipping on the last one. "Glad to know your affection is measured in kilograms."
Albert folded his arms. "You'll thank me when it counts."
"I'll thank you when I can walk without sounding like an old door."
He didn't laugh, but he didn't need to. He just nodded toward the open courtyard. "Ten laps. No enchantments. Just you and gravity."
I blinked. "Seriously?"
His eyebrow went up.
Yeah. Seriously.
Before I could complain further, a voice cut in from the doorway.
Sera, sipping something cold, leaned against the frame with her good arm. "You're lucky. Last time."That's comforting," I said, already trudging toward my first lap. "Maybe I'll explode halfway through. Would save time."
The first lap hurt. The second burned. By the third, I felt like I was dragging a mountain behind me. Still, I pushed. One step after the other, breathing hard, sweat soaking into my shirt.
By the time I finished the tenth, I was ready to collapse. But Albert was waiting—still by the bench, unreadable as ever.
He tilted his head slightly. "Now conjure an element."
I blinked at him, half-delirious. "What?"
"Element. Wind. Fire. Whatever's comfortable. I want to see something."
"Uh… I'm not fully in control yet. Last time I tried mid-exhaustion, I almost blew a hole through your fence."
"Boy," he said, "just conjure the damn thing."
I groaned. "Fine. I warned you."
I closed my eyes. Reached inward. The Acarna Core answered, surging like it always did—but this time I didn't resist. I guided it gently, focused on the wind. Not too much. Just a nudge.
A breeze spiraled up around me. Focused. Controlled.
My body lifted, feet leaving the earth. Not far, just enough to hover and glide a few feet forward. Balanced. Light.
"This is... cool," I said, grinning. "I couldn't do this before. It's like the energy's syncing better. Why is it so easy now?"
Albert didn't answer.
Then—
Crack.
A sharp fracture jolted through my right anklet. My balance collapsed. I dropped, dispelling the wind before I crashed.
I landed hard on both feet and held up the anklet. The runes were cracked, glowing unevenly.
"It broke."
Albert walked over and crouched beside me. "I suspected as much."
"You what? Then why—?"
He examined the damaged runes. "The energy in you... it's outgrowing the seal. The weights weren't built for your current output."
I stared at the broken band. "So now what?"
"Now?" He stood.We make you new ones , heavier ones.Until I can get my hands on proper gravity stones that can withstand the monstrosity in you , you will be wearing heavier weights.
My stomach sank. "There are heavier weights than these? What am I supposed to do, walk around with boulders strapped to my body?"
Albert turned away. "Shut up."
He didn't even glance back as he climbed the stairs toward the house.
"Don't go anywhere," he added.
As if I could.
I sat there, sweating, ankles aching, and stared at the broken anklet.
Whatever was coming… I needed to be stronger.
And apparently, heavier.