Kingdom of fire and shadows: Useless magic and Salamanders.

They arrived at Farpas Citadel at midday. There was even more activity than in Mennor and better shops. The nobility of the area was more refined, with more luxury. It was not as splendid as Telasa, but the degree of wealth was noticeable; one could see some people dressed in ragged clothes, but in general, their clothing was better than that of the village. Few buildings were made of wood; almost everything was made of stone. Xavier had stopped at Mennor on his way to the guard tower, but he did not stay long in the citadel. Now that he was walking through the streets of Farpas with Clinton, He could appreciate in detail the differences between a citadel and a dirt-poor town like Humol.

'This place looks good enough,' said Clinton, walking towards a clothing shop.

When they entered the store, the variety and quantity of clothes were far superior to what Xavier had seen at the shops in Humol.

'Good morning, your honors,' a saleswoman greeted them. As soon as she saw them come in, she looked at Clinton's clothes and manners: a high-class nobleman. The man who accompanied him was dressed in a simpler suit, but he was a magician; the badge on his chest gave him away. Two nobles, today would be a good sale.

'Do you wish for anything in particular?'

'The honorable magician here requires a fine pair of suits for a gala dinner,' answered Clinton, pushing Xavier toward the saleswoman.

'Of course. It will be my pleasure to be of help, your honor,' said the girl with the glow of the coins in her eyes, dragging the perplexed Xavier with her.

"This suit would fit him very well, and this one and this other." The girl was choosing clothes for Xavier, one after the other.

Meanwhile, Clinton seemed to be having fun, especially every time the price of the item in question was mentioned, and Xavier's face became paler. The idea of irritating his father was priceless. To demonstrate power and fortune before a peasant was an extra; moreover, this act could secure a shadow magician for his future plans. To Clinton, seeing Xavier's lost and embarrassed face was fun; it was like a circus.

At the end of the adventure, Xavier ended up with three different full suits sets. A total of twenty-two silver coins were handed over to the seller. Xavier almost fainted. That amount of money would help his family eat for at least three years. But in a few minutes, everything had been wasted on clothes. Clinton paid for everything as if it was nothing.

'Not bad,' said Clinton. 'They're not the best quality, but compared to what you brought, it's acceptable. With these clothes, you'll be fine at the celebration.'

Already in the carriage, Xavier could not resist the curiosity.

'Clinton, can I ask you something?' Xavier didn't want to offend his benefactor, but he was curious.

'Go ahead, ask.'

'How much are your current clothes worth?' asked Xavier.

'Humm, I suppose one or two gold coins, more or less,' answered Clinton with a smile. He had Xavier in his pocket, and he knew it.

Xavier almost suffered a heart attack. One gold coin was worth one hundred silver coins. That was years of work and suffering for his family. However, the nobles spent gold coins as if they were drops of water. Previously, Xavier doubted whether he should attend Liev's Tower; after all, a shadow mage is useless. He now understood that the tower and his status as a magician were the only ways to a better future. Maybe he could make relationships and friendships with nobles and rich people in the tower. The difference between nobles and peasants was abysmal, but maybe in Liev's tower he could shorten that distance. Meanwhile, Clinton had a pure smile, and for some reason, he seemed happier than usual.

When they arrived at the Van Ferra mansion, Xavier felt the shock of the class difference once again. The mansion of the lord of Humol was something extraordinary in his eyes, but that was nothing compared to the mansion of a high status nobility. To his knowledge, no one in Humol had been in such a large mansion before.

More than a hundred meters of flowers separated the wall gate from the mansion door. Two knights in basic armor guarded the gate. The building was enormous, entirely made of stone; golden on the edges of the walls and green were the most abundant colors. White marble stairs climbed up to the door of the mansion; on each side of the door frame, two peacock statues served as custodians. The carriage stopped right in front of the stairs.

'How many rooms does this place have?' asked Xavier, still in a trance.

'This mansion has only ten,' answered Clinton. 'I'm pretty sure in a few years we'll need something bigger.'

'Something bigger...' Xavier was still lost in astonishment. This place had no comparison with the miserable house in which he lived. His home had only two rooms: his parent's room and the one he shared with his two brothers. There were not many amenities, and nothing remotely close to privacy. When his parents were engaged in moments of passion, the only option was to pretend to be asleep until they were over. If you needed to go take a piss, well, bad luck.

'Let's eat; I'm starving,' encouraged Clinton, inviting Xavier into the mansion.

'I'm going to get the things from the carriage.' said Xavier, but Clinton stopped him. 'Forget about that; that's what servitude is for. Let them do their job,' Clinton said, pulling Xavier up the stairs. His smile had disappeared. His face had become inexpressive. This surprised Xavier; it was as if he was seeing a stone mask.

Xavier and Clinton had arrived just in time for lunch. Guided by Clinton, they approached the mansion dining room. Xavier began to see the servants move around. Everyone wore clothes that were almost as fine as his current suit.

'Hello everyone,' said Clinton to those sitting at the table.

'Seron, put another set of silverware on the table for my guest,' commanded Clinton with his unmovable stone face.

Those present at the table looked behind Clinton. The boy, who at first went unnoticed, now caught their attention. At first, they didn't give him any importance; his basic clothes made him look like just another one of the servants. Outside of Seron, the buttler, the Van Ferra paid little attention to servitude; for them, they were more like mobile objects than people. However, the mage badge on his chest made them understand that he was a mage... a shadow mage.

At that moment, Sven van Ferra was entering the dining room. He stopped his steps when he saw Xavier, whom he immediately recognized. "That wretched peasant," thought Sven, while doing the impossible to control his anger and disgust.

'Father,' greeted Clinton with a slight reverence. While his face remained inexpressive, on the inside he was trying his best not to laugh at his father's obvious anger.

'Do you remember our fellow magician, Xavier de Vonder?'

'Fellow?,' Sven thought. Just the idea of considering this flimsy, useless, failed shadow magician as a member of the caste of magicians seemed nauseous to him.

'Of course I remember,' said Sven, not paying any more attention to Xavier. The veins on his forehead were about to explode, and his jaw was contracted.

Since Clinton had awakened as a magician, his attitude was increasingly more incomprehensible; he was doing irrational things. The disgust was about to give Sven and the other members of the family.

'Xavier, this is the Van Ferra family. My mother, Biela; my elder brother, Emer; my older sister, Martel. I'm sure you'll have a good time here and appreciate the hospitality and class of our family,' Clinton said, adding some pressure on his family.

Xavier bowed down to the Van Ferra's. 'It is an honor to meet you.'

In response, he received a grimace that simulated a smile from Biela, while Emer and Martel just ignored him.

The atmosphere at the table was of such palpable tension that it could be cut with a knife. Clinton's face remained as inexpressive as ever, while in his mind he enjoyed the stressful atmosphere.

Looking around, Xavier noticed that the mansion was as opulent inside as it was outside. Various portraits and paintings of the former members of the family adorned the walls of the dining room. The table was spacious; they could probably seat twenty people. The perfectly polished wood was far from the rustic boards of his house. The chairs were covered with comfortable pillows, and silver candlesticks hung on the walls.

Silver, glass, porcelain, and blankets covered the table. Napkins as white as clouds, just for cleaning your mouth or drying your hands after washing them. Two large plates of bread on both ends of the table. However, nobody took them. They pointed to one of the plates, and the servants brought the bread.

Xavier felt very uncomfortable with the situation. However, the smell of the food made him overlook his embarrassment. He tried to copy Clinton's manners as best he could.

The first dish was a soup. Each member of the family took a piece of bread. For Xavier, this wasn't bread. The bread he knew was hard, with a brown color and small fragments of several grains inside. This bread was white and soft. When he tasted the soup, he almost fainted. Different spices and pieces of fish made up the dish. It was hard to get fish in Humol; all the fish they could get was salty, dry, and very expensive. Fresh fish was impossible to acquire for the poor, who lived far away from the coast. Without realizing it, he ate almost desperately, while everyone at the table looked at him with horror. To them, it was like watching a wild animal. The only one who didn't seem surprised was Clinton. His face remained serene and relaxed as he ate his soup slowly. However, behind his inexpressive face, he found Xavier's manners nauseous. If it weren't because he needed him at the Liev's Tower and because he wanted to bother his family, he would have kicked him out of the house himself.

'Ahem!' The sound emitted by Biela made Xavier wake up from his frenzy. He looked around. Clinton looked like a statue. Biela's face was red. Emer and Martel were amazed and looked at Xavier with their mouths open, as if they were looking at a strange animal doing something indescribable. Sven had pulsating veins on his forehead, and his jaw tightened. You could hear his teeth grinding sound .

'Delicious soup,' said Xavier, trying to hide his shame.

'I'm glad you like it,' said Clinton with the same inexpressive face. Inside, he felt a mixture of disgust and pleasure at the same time. The contrast between Xavier's manners and the disgust in the faces of his family was a new experience, which he thought impossible.

Dish after dish went through the table. Although Xavier controlled his speed when eating, he finished much earlier than the others, and his plate was always empty. Meat with a bittersweet sauce. Soupy rice with some poultry meat. A very delicate and fine milk-based dessert. All with an exquisite flavor and, to finish, a red tea. There were several cups of sugar to sweeten to everyone's liking, and Xavier decided to take advantage of them. At the end of the meal, the family split without a word.

'Clinton, we need to talk,' said Sven, rising from the table while beconing him.

'Xavier, Seron will show you to your room,' said Clinton, and then he followed his father to the office.

Sven closed the door of his office after Clinton came in. His face was pure anger. While Clinton's face was as inexpressive as ever.

'Have you gone mad? cried Sven. How do you bring to our home, our mansion, that countryside rat?'

'He's a magician; just like us, I don't see the problem,' answered Clinton.

Sven's anger was overflowing; his hand moved to slap Clinton's face, who leaned backwards. Sven's fingers passed, rubbing Clinton's chin. Sven and Clinton looked each other in the eyes. Clinton's face was still a porcelain mask that didn't express emotions; Sven's face had changed; he had made a mistake. Clinton was the future leader of the family, a magician with an elemental affinity twice that of Sven, impassive, methodical, and extremely cold. Sven turned around, walked to his desk, and sat in his chair. There were no words; there was no need. Clinton would keep this event in his memory, and since Sven was still the master of the house, he would not apologize to his irreverent son. Clinton turned and left the room, a macabre smile adorning his face.

Emer, Clinton's older brother, was in his room, consumed by his rage. How dare Clinton bring the garbage that Emer considered mere toys to his mansion and to his table? It was an insult. 'That idiot,' said Emer to himself. But there was nothing he could do. Clinton was a magician who, in the near future, would be more powerful than his own father. A myriad of ideas passed through his head. Poison, a stabbing; there were a thousand ways to get rid of his brother, but killing a magician was a great crime; he would end up at the gallows. Emer fell down, his back leaning on the door of his room, with his head down and looking to the floor.

When he entered the room where Seron had taken him, Xavier was again surprised. An enormous bed, larger than that of his parents, was in the middle of the bedroom. Bright-colored and hole-free bedsheets covered the bed. This room was almost as big as his house.

'Your belongings are on the bed, your honor. The dinner will be served at eight o'clock,' Seron informed, before leaving the room and closing the door.

Xavier approached the bed. When he touched it, his hand sank slightly. It wasn't made of woven rope, like the beds at his house. The bedsheets emitted a mild smell of lavender. The pillows were made of feathers. On the bed, the three pairs of suits that had cost a fortune rested.

'So, this is how nobles live,' said Xavier in a low voice.

By opening a wooden door, he entered what could only be the bathroom. A seat carved in stone with a lid covered the latrine. A porcelain container with fresh water and a jar for bathing; the water that fell to the floor of polished stone ran out through a hole in the wall. He had his own bathroom in the room. Xavier came out of the bathroom when he heard someone knocking on the door. The feeling was strange; in his house, there were no doors except the one at the entrance. The rest of the house was divided by curtains. Xavier opened the door.

It was Clinton.

'Can I come in?' His face was no longer a rock without emotions; a smile from ear to ear adorned his face. Although it had a certain macabre tone.

'Of course, it is your house,' replied Xavier, turning aside.

'Do you like your room?' he asked.

'Like it? This is as big as my house... This is too much. Seriously, I don't know what I'm doing here; I am so nervous. Tomorrow, the party... all those nobles.' He was nervous, and just to think about it, his heart rose to his throat.

'Cut it; you'll be fine; they're just people. You should get used to it; you will live with the nobles in Liev's Tower," Clinton reminded him.

'I don't know if I'm going to attend to the tower,' replied Xavier, staring at the ground.

'I see no reason not to do so,' said Clinton, who was interested in him attending Liev's Tower at any cost.

'I am a shadow magician; there is no future for a shadow magician... except for the subjugation squads, which are also not very frequent,' Xavier reminded him.

"You're a dual magician,′ Clinton reminded him, 'with traces of fire. I'm sure you can do something with that. Although a magician with a two percent affinity is the minimum you need to be useful in battle, there must be some way to take advantage of your duality. Besides, you don't lose anything. You can be either a farmer or whatever after leaving Liev's Tower," Clinton argued.

'I suppose you are right,' admitted Xavier, dropping his shoulders as a sign of defeat.

'Let's stop talking about such serious matters; I'll show you around,' said Clinton.

They left the room and walked around the mansion. The place was huge, and the land covered a large extent. In the distance, you could see the fields with crops, which were taken care of by the people over whom the Van Ferra family commanded. The day came to an end, dinner was served, and the atmosphere was still as tense as it was at lunch. Although Emer was not present this time, he decided to stay in his room.

After dinner, they departed for their rooms. Xavier threw himself into the comfortable bed. It was like lying on a cloud; he fell asleep right away.