It was a man, dressed in a tailored suit of deep crimson velvet with golden stitching at the hems and edges. On his breast was a golden emblem that Finn recognized belonged to one of the greatest — if not the greatest — merchant family to ever live… The Feuguer Merchant Family. So great that even within Aethelos, Finn had heard of them way out in the Eastern region where he was raised.

Finn raised his vigilance and watched the man approach them with the poise and smoothness of someone used to servicing the whims of the world's most powerful beings.

​"Preceptor Elias," the man bowed low, placing a hand over his chest. "The Feuguer Family is honored by your presence. I am Steward Valerius. We were informed of your arrival, though you are… later than our sources predicted."

​"We made good time,"the Preceptor replied simply, offering no explanation for the delay.

​Valerius smiled, a perfect smile that barely even reached his calculating eyes. He glanced briefly at Finn and Althea, but his gaze lingered only for less than a second — just long enough to register their existence — before dismissing them entirely as if they were luggage. He turned his full, fawning attention back to the Preceptor.

​"The Head of the Family is currently concluding a meeting with a delegation from Mechanus, but he has instructed me to escort you to the Emerald Villa for your stay. He insists on hosting a welcome banquet in your honor this evening."

​"That will be fine," Preceptor Elias nodded, then gestured vaguely behind him. "These are my wards. They will be accompanying me."

​"Of course, of course," Valerius waved a hand dismissively, snapping his fingers. Two valets immediately rushed forward to take any bags, though Finn and Althea had none. "The Villa has ample quarters for… wards."

​Finn and Althea said nothing, simply remaining stoic. But Finn couldn't help the slight twitch of annoyance he felt at the tone the steward used while referring to them as wards. He knew this was the game, though… the first test of their mettle…

In the eyes of the rest of the world, Aethelos, with its single-rule matriarchal system and archaic ideas about matters like how Ossuarists were treated, was a closed-off, backward kingdom — though they would never say this out loud.

And to the steward who had seen and attended to lots of high-ranked Ossuarists, Initiates like Finn and Althea were little more than little fledglings in training.

​As Finn and Althea silently walked behind Preceptor Elias, who was occupied in discussions and queries about the latest developments in the city with the Steward, Finn felt a distinct, focused gaze land on him.

Immediately, he turned his head slightly with a blank look and locked onto the source. It came right from the floating disk artifact which had descended at the same time as them earlier.

​"So, this is the 'monolithic power' of the East?" a voice drawled, loud enough to be heard but casual enough to not be taken as an insult, though it was truly meant as one.

​Finn looked at the one that spoke. It was a young man, likely around Finn's age too, perhaps twenty or even twenty-one, standing at the edge of the floating disc artifact. He was handsome in a sharp, but synthetic way, wearing a fitted coat that seemed to be woven from a metallic fabric.

But the most striking feature about him — the one that drew Finn's attention immediately — was his right arm. It was entirely mechanical. An exquisitely crafted synthetic arm of brass and glowing blue spirit-metal that seemed to vibrate with contained energy.

Another artifact… So, he's an Artifact nurturer? Finn noted in surprise. He hadn't seen many Artifact nurturers throughout his life in Aethelos. So, this was a novel experience for him.

​Next to the young man stood a girl with wild, fiery red hair, dressed in the rugged, beast-hide leathers typical of Feraxia, but it was exquisitely and expertly designed, making one know at a glance that she was a fashionista. She was leaning against a large, crouching saber-toothed tiger that watched Finn with hungry, yellow eyes.

​"They look like monks," the girl laughed, scratching her beast behind the ears as she stared distastefully at the plain black Ossuarist uniform both Finn and Althea wore. "Does Aethelos not have tailors? Or do they just wear funeral shrouds for fun?"

​The young man with the mechanical arm smirked, stepping off the levitating disk as it vibrated with a low hum. His eyes scanned Finn and Althea up and down with blatant condescension. "Careful, Ria. Don't startle them. I hear the country bumpkins from Aethelos are easily frightened by advanced civilization."

Man… This is so cliche. Finn cringed internally. If he wasn't trying to maintain his indifference, he probably would have facepalmed at their expense.

Finn knew he could probably be goaded by their words — assuming they actually knew how to weave hurting insults in the first place. But Althea? Althea was the last person that would be goaded by such petty nonsense, even if they were actually stinging and hurting.

Finn glanced at Althea, who didn't so much as blink. She didn't break stride, nor did she offer the two youths the dignity of a glance. Her gaze remained fixed forward, bored and unfocused, as if they were buzzing flies beneath her notice.

​Finn mirrored her indifference perfectly. He kept his face impassive and walked in step with her, with a relaxed, yet upright poise.

​But internally, he made a move.

While Althea was content to just remain indifferent, Finn wasn't. The Preceptor's earlier words still rung in his head: "...only face matters in Xanth."

So to maintain his and Althea's face, despite not being triggered by their nonsense, Finn took action.

​Without breaking his rhythm, subtly, Finn began to chant the opening verse of his Soul Edict.

​"Will.

Soul Anchor.

Focused Mind…"

As Finn whispered the chant, Althea, next to him couldn't help the slight upward tug that spread on her lips.

She knew exactly what Finn was doing.

It was common knowledge that when Ossuarists chanted their Soul Edict, they were converging their soul essence and basically exerting the superiority of their souls upon the chaotic soul mass in question…

And this act, unsurprisingly, has the same effect on every kind of lesser-grade soul — an Arcanist's included.

Which meant, despite the fact they were still alive, every Arcanist, regardless of type — be they elemental, body enhancer, beast tamer or artifact nurturer — would always feel an intense sense of discomfort, as if their very souls were being tugged on, just by being within the range of an Ossuarist when they chanted their Soul Edict.

And the effect was even more prominent when the Ossuarist in question had a particularly strong soul, even among Ossuarists.

So, needless to say, the effect on the two youths was instantaneous.

As Finn chanted, the two youths, who were about to give another petty dig, stilled immediately.

​The large saber-toothed tiger was the first to react in discomfort. The beast's ears flattened against its skull, and it let out a high-pitched, pitiful whine, cowering low to the polished marble floor.

​The Feraxian girl, Ria, frowned immediately. Her confident smirk faltered, replaced by a sudden, pale look of discomfort. She clutched at her chest as she felt a bizarre, terrifying sensation — as if her very soul was tugging at its seams, like an eager dog hearing a master's whistle, urging her to step forward and be purged.

​The Mechanus youth fared no better. The humming blue light of his mechanical arm flickered erratically as if the artifact was facing interference from an unseen, high-frequency radiation. He gritted his teeth, as his eyes widened in confusion and instinctive dread. He felt exposed and naked, as if his soul had been opened up to some unseen, encroaching judgment.

The question in expression was evident for all to see. It screamed: What the hell is this?!

Both he and the Feraxian girl stared at Finn and Althea with dread in their eyes, taking subconscious steps back to create more distance.

But ​through it all, Finn and Althea simply kept walking. ​They didn't stop or turn around to gloat at the sudden distress of the two 'talented youths.' They didn't even deem them worthy of that.

​Steward Valerius, who was not an Arcanist, but a remarkably perceptive man, noticed the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

He glanced back, seeing the prestigious guests from Mechanus and Feraxia pale and sorely shaken, while the wards of the Preceptor walked on with serene and peaceful expressions on their faces.

And immediately, a flicker of genuine surprise and reassessment couldn't help but pass through the Steward's calculating eyes, but he wisely said nothing, turning back to the front.

​Preceptor Elias, however, made no such attempt to hide his reaction.

​He didn't look back either, but as Finn and Althea caught up to his stride, the old man let out a soft hmpf, and the corner of his mouth quirked upward just a fraction.

​Both Finn and Althea walked a bit straighter, basically knowing now that even Finn's action had been silently approved by the Preceptor.

He had heard the whole thing right from the start, but it was leagues beneath him to stoop low to their levels. Besides, it was entirely a matter between his wards and the youths. He was never addressed once in their goading dig, so he had no reason to act.

But seeing how Finn handled it, he seemed to be pleased.

Finn continued to let his superior soul terrorize everyone in the surroundings ruthlessly — even the bystanders.

He only stopped the chant in his head, allowing the heavy pressure to dissipate after they reached the gilded elevators at the end of the spire.

​As the doors slid open, revealing a plush interior of velvet and crystal, Finn finally dropped his stoic facade, smiling smugly.

​Face is the only thing that matters, the Preceptor had said.

And what saves face more than bringing your enemies to their knees without even looking at them…

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