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Mages were, in many ways, delicate beings. Of course, not in the sense that they’d shatter with a crack at the slightest touch, like some kind of brittle glass. On the contrary, their mental fortitude could be stronger than that of any other being.
However, it was that very quality which meant their mental framework was often incredibly intricate. Unlike ordinary people, they processed far more information than what they simply saw, making plenty of suppositions and inferences.
Josiah had come to realize that there were still holes in her theory. In the case of Mit Chyde, Davey figured he had surely begun to perceive and feel something as well, all on his own.
He had no intention of intervening directly. The negotiations with Count Chyde had fallen through, and with that, his reason for getting involved with them had vanished.
Even so, the fact that his disciple, Josiah Frances, had taken on her first personal disciple made it difficult for him to look the other way. It was obvious that, if left alone, Mit Chyde would never reach the 3rd Circle in time.
So, Davey offered a bit of help, though he didn’t exactly tell her he was doing it. He kept it a secret from her.
“You’re actually pretty considerate.” Perserque, gently running her hand through his hair as he lay in her lap, smiled softly. “You didn’t want your disciple to face her first real trial and end up crushed.”
“I never said that,” Davey retorted.
“Sure. Then let’s say you didn’t.” She giggled with amusement. “The wall of the 6th Circle really is something strange. Nine out of ten mages all go through the same symptoms.”
“It’s like a kid catching hero syndrome as they grow up.”
Living beings...
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