Chapter 63: Septima

Wren sounded delighted on the phone and promised to skip class and come right over. After hanging up, Nathan's mind drifted a little.

Of all the bloodborn he knew, Wren was the one Nathan trusted most—so at a loss for a decision, she was the first person who came to mind.

After the call, the boy sensed something faintly off. He'd never noticed before, but in that exact instant he suddenly realized how overly dependent on her he'd become.

"Wren and I are just classmates—so why do I feel like she'll help me with anything? Like she's the most dependable person there is?"

With Nathan distracted, both Karsten and the refined, intellectual beauty—top-tier people in personal combat and mundane business alike—naturally saw it. Their eyes clashed, and both understood the standoff couldn't go on. It was Karsten who proposed: "I suggest a three-party joint venture. Our Raging Gale contributes 250 million starlings plus the relevant technology, for twenty percent of the shares."

The refined, intellectual beauty nodded too: "Our side can provide office space, office staff, a portion of the technology, and a one-billion-starling loan, for fifteen percent of the shares."

By the time Wren reached Moon Coffee, the two sides had moved into detailed negotiations. Nathan had no room to insert a word and sat half-dazed; only at the sight of the bloodborn girl did his eyes regain a little life.

Wren sat down all smiles and greeted the refined, intellectual beauty, calling out: "Ms. Drake—how come you're handling it this time?"

The refined, intellectual beauty gave a rare, full smile—like an exotic flower blooming—and the whole moonlight booth seemed to brighten for it, a charm utterly different from her earlier cool reserve.

"Wrennie! Your Nathan's not bad at all. The Concord's evaluation of him is finished—he can go apply for a bond-power grading now."

Wren's small face flamed red in a heartbeat; she sneaked a glance at Nathan, eyes rippling—the girl's bashfulness simply defied description.

That Wren knew the refined, intellectual beauty hardly surprised Nathan anymore. He didn't mind Drake's teasing either; it was the Concord's evaluation and the bond-power grading that caught his curiosity: "What does the Concord evaluate? Bond-power needs a grading too?"

Taken from the author's official posting without permission, this chapter is read at its source to support the writer.

Wren said, grinning: "I'm your mentor—your evaluation was mine to do. Relax, I gave you the best one. That evaluation decides which departments you can enter later. A failing grade, and you're routed to the commercial side, or left to fend for yourself living as an ordinary person. Below-average, and you get one free training slot, your path decided by the training results. What I gave you was superior-outstanding: direct entry into the Concord's executive branch—a formal Concord employee, in effect."

Nathan was floored. He'd long forgotten that Wren was even his mentor—still less had he imagined the bloodborn girl had been the one doing his evaluation.

Seeing his astonishment, Wren gave a light laugh and went on: "It's peacetime, sure, but personal combat strength still matters. So the Concord, the Four Hosts, the Eighteen Towers, the Western Hidden Order lineages—all of them have rules for rating their members' strength. For example, I'm a Rank-Five bloodborn warrior; Lucan's only Rank Three; Ms. Drake is Rank Seven; and Karsten's official file says Rank Nine bloodborn warrior—already extremely strong."

Nathan had to ask: "What ranks were Sebastian and Lysander?"

Wren answered: "Sebastian was a Rank-Nine arcane adept—the Eighteen Towers don't practice bond-power, but his strength matched a Rank-Nine bloodborn warrior. Lysander is Rank Six, a notch above me."

Nathan nodded slightly, sighing inwardly: "So I'm THAT weak? Maybe not even up to Lucan—Rank One bloodborn warrior at best, or Rank Two."

The refined, intellectual beauty broke in at just the right moment, sliding a fresh-off-the-press contract to Wren. Wren leafed through it, picked up a pen, signed Nathan's name for him outright, and slid it back to Drake and Karsten.

Before Nathan could get a word out, the other two were already shaking hands and congratulating each other.

Wren smiled faintly, picked up Nathan's copy of the contract, and said softly to him: "As your mentor, I'm authorized to sign for you. I've read this contract—no problems at all."

Nathan asked, quietly: "Shouldn't you at least ask me first?"

Wren gave a little smile, hid her face behind the contract, and whispered: "I just didn't want to ask. I wanted to decide on my own."

Nathan could only roll with it—Wren would never hurt him, that much was certain. He casually lifted the contract off her face and said: "Suit yourself!"

Wren beamed; Nathan's words had clearly put her in a fabulous mood, her whole being brightening—and even with Drake's heart-stopping, swaying grace, the bloodborn girl didn't yield to her half a step.

Karsten smiled slightly, said "pleasure doing business," and sauntered off—settling the bill on his way out, naturally.

With Karsten gone, Wren turned noticeably more docile. The refined, intellectual beauty swept back her hair and said: "Allow me to introduce myself—Septima, Wren's oldest friend. I treasure this girl of mine, which is why I fought for the best terms for you this time. Don't you let her down. She's done plenty for your sake these past weeks—and in all our years together, it's the first time I've ever seen her work this hard."

Wren's face went scarlet again, but she said not a word; before her elder sister Septima, all her usual bounce was gone, turned demure and ladylike.

Nathan's own face flushed warm too; all he could manage was nod after nod. Then something felt off—he wanted to say something and had no idea what, until the strain finally shook an item loose. He took out the little pink double-strap pack he'd just gotten in the Hourbound Grove and said, low: "Thanks for all of this. I happened to get something—it'd suit you."

Wren glanced at Septima, quietly grabbed the little pink pack, her whole face glowing red.

Nathan felt things getting even more off—but at a moment like this, in an atmosphere like this, his brain half-seized, and no correct response would come.

Septima didn't linger long; after a brief chat with Wren she took her leave. Only after she was gone did Nathan cool down—and abruptly snap awake to the fact that Septima had completely misread his relationship with Wren.