[Luke – 13 years]

"No, Luke," Mom sighs. "You cannot have leftover cake for breakfast."

Even if Xander had shown up for my birthday party yesterday, we'd have plenty of cake and snacks leftover. My parents overestimated how much would be needed as it's the first time we've had that many teen boys here for a party. They're used to needing catering for a bigger event with adults, not hosting parties for a handful of teen boys.

Which means that there is plenty of cake leftover. There always is, but even more so this year because of how big of a cake they commissioned this time.

"Come oooooon!" I plead. "There's so much cake leftover from yesterday! How come I can't have cake for breakfast?"

"Because it's unhealthy," she answers. "You need a proper breakfast, which is why you and Tyler are getting waffles, sausages, eggs, hash browns, and fruit."

My other friends all went home after the party, but Tyler spent the night here with me. I would have asked for a sleepover with everyone, but setting up a Christmas tree is traditional for the first day after the Autumn Festival ends. Very few people who celebrate the Festival of Frost don't do it.

Which means the odds of getting permission for them to stay were slim, so I didn't ask. The party was awesome, though! And the cake was amazing!

Best of all, my parents somehow managed to get me a phone which is rated for up to 50,000 mana! How they managed that, I don't know and I'm honestly scared to ask. But that means that the odds of it getting broken in the next five years is basically nil.

"You forgot the 'cake' part of it," I tell her.

Mom sighs, but there's a piece of cake for Tyler and another for me once we're at the table. We have this argument every year and I always enjoy a piece of cake with my breakfast despite that. It's more like a ritual rather than me not actually being allowed to eat cake for lunch for several days after my birthday.

"Hey, Mom?" I ask after we finish eating. "And Dad? Is it okay if I head over to Trey's for a minute to ask something? It'll be real quick, I just want to ask him before we leave to pick out a tree and before he's doing anything."

My parents look at each other for a moment, then agree to it. Me doing something will probably give them a few extra minutes to get something finished before we leave. Picking out and then decorating a tree will take up the rest of our morning, so they probably want to check on some stuff before we go.

"But what about Tyler?" Mom asks.

"You're okay with waiting a few minutes?" I ask.

"Sure!" He answers.

"Is it about Xander's present?" Mom asks. "I do think he forgot to put something in it."

Xander dropped off a box here for my birthday even though he didn't attend the party, and I found the box a little odd. Not because it was light – Xander's the type of person who would put a weight-adjusting enchantment on a box if it's too heavy regardless of how long the box will live. No, I found it odd because Xander seems to prefer gift bags over wrapped boxes.

The box had nothing but air inside, which explains why it was a box rather than a bag.

"He didn't forget!" I tell my parents. "He gave me my present!"

"Luke," Mom sighs. "It was an empty box."

"It wasn't empty!" I tell her. "It was full of air! Anyway, I gotta hurry or it'll get too late."

I head up to my room and quickly change, then ride my hoverboard next door. It's too cold for riding it but I'll tolerate it for a few minutes over asking Xavier to drive me over and back. My parents would probably be fine with taking me over on the way to picking out our tree, but I'd rather do this alone because they'd probably ask me what it's about on the way back.

Trey turns out to be in his office, and I can feel Xander's electrical signal up in his room doing… something. It seems like he's just lying on the floor based on how his electrical signals are positioned, but that can't be right.

As he's always the first one up at the parties, he's definitely already awake right now.

"Good morning, Luke," Trey greets me as I enter his office. "Did you have a good birthday?"

"I did, thanks," I close the door.

"Did Xander give you an empty box?" Trey asks. "I caught him closing one with nothing inside and tape and wrapping paper beside him. I told him-"

"He didn't give me an empty box," I tell him. "The box was full!"

"Okay," Trey nods. "That's good. Did you want to speak with both of us, or just me?"

"Just you," I answer. "There are two things on my mind, and they're just quick questions. But private, too."

"Okay," he says. "Go ahead."

"First one," I say. "I've realized recently that people from scientech and common levels of society have different resources than those of us in magitech and mage levels. That means you might have resources my parents can't access, and may potentially be able to learn something they couldn't."

Becoming friends with Seph has done more than add an awesome guy to my friend group. It's taught me some stuff I probably wouldn't have ever known without hanging out with him.

"Is this about Seph and his sponsorship?" Trey guesses.

How in the world did he nail that in one?

"That's… a really good guess."

"Your parents warned me awhile back that you might try and ask me to look into it," he says. "They asked me to do the same."

"My parents asked you?" I ask. "Then you weren't able to find anything, either?"

This just gets more and more mysterious. Someone who can conceal themselves from the resources of the top scientech security firm in the world and the resources of the top mage family outside of the Lumaria Kings?

That means it might be someone from the Lumaria Kings.

"Hold on," Trey tells me.

He rises and enters a room off to the side of his office. Judging by the security panel, it's a safe room… though it could probably use a magitech upgrade. Even among non-mage businesses, they might hire mages to perform the break-in since they know the security will be easy to bypass with magic.

When he returns, he's holding a manila folder and a pen. I recognize the pen type, it's used for signing magic contracts.

"They refused to sign this," Trey sets the folder down in front of me. "And doing so is the only way to acquire the information I have regarding Seph's sponsor."

So Trey was able to find something out, but was placed under a magical contract to avoid telling people. He was given permission to do so, but only to certain people, and only if they sign a contract agreeing to silence.

That's my assumption, and I'm proven correct when I read the contract in the folder. It's a magical contract binding the signer from being able to share information pertaining to Seph's sponsor. A very thoroughly-made one, beyond just what Trey's own lawyers would be able to write up.

The whole thing looks as legal as any I've seen before, and I've seen plenty over the past six months. My parents have been teaching me about them as part of my training for the business, and I've been in the room when they were made and when they were signed.

Even I could sign it despite being only fourteen. In fact, since I'm fourteen I can sign it and with it still being legally binding. If there was something suspicious about it, my parents could have the contract examined. Should the one presented not be the one linked to the bind on me, then the assessor would nullify it.

There are a lot of precautions in place to ensure that they aren't used against people for nefarious purposes. Also to protect minors who might have a reason to sign one, to prevent them from being taken advantage of. Or just to protect minors who might be forced into signing them.

"Since you brought out the pen," I say. "Does that mean you're allowed to tell me?"

"I am," he answers. "And now that you're fourteen, you can sign it if you wish. But you need to make sure you read it over carefully."

"And have a lawyer go over it, yeah," I say. "Though it's simple enough that a lawyer isn't needed. It's much less extensive than the ones our company's lawyers have whipped up. The only thing it does is restrict me from being able to reveal to anyone information regarding Seph's sponsor and sponsorship which Seph himself hasn't revealed, and only until Seph is eighteen years old – two years after his sponsorship supposedly ends."

Since that ends when his time at the academy does, according to Seph.

With it being this simple, I sign the three copies. One is given to me, while Trey keeps the other two. One should be kept for himself while the third will need to be filed at a certain government office within seventy-two hours. If it isn't, a special seal will appear on all copies of it to mark that it's become invalid and I can get it nullified. If it is, a special seal will appear on it to mark that it's officially filed.

Well, the filing is a little bit more complicated than that, but that's the basics of it. And if I were to prevent it from being filed – or if I'm the one who doesn't file it – then Trey would also know. That could lead to him taking legal action for a violation of the contract.

Which I'm not interested in dealing with, and I'm not interested in violating the contract, anyway. Not if Trey thinks it's fine to let me sign it, since I know he wouldn't agree to it if the information was bad.

"So?" I ask. "You know who his sponsor is?"

"Before I get into that," he looks at something on his computer. "Okay, Xander's still in his room."

"Yeah," I say. "How come it seems like he's just lying on the ground?" Trey gives me a confused and inquiring look. "I can feel electrical signals, and Xander's close enough for my current level to feel him even when I'm not lightning-charged."

Now that I think about it, I can never feel the foxes' electrical signals. They must have a way around it. That's something I'll ask Xander about sometime, just not right now.

"He does that when he's bored and waiting for something," Trey tells me. "Right now, it's 'waiting for time to bush his teeth'. He'll probably start working on magitech soon, he'd only just gotten up there a few minutes before you arrived, and it usually takes about five or so before he begins fiddling with something."

"Ah."

"On to the sponsorship," he says. "We're going to go back a little time. When I first started looking into fostering a kid, I put money aside specifically for his education – for a private middle school, high school, and even to attend university or trade school."

Is this getting into how he was able to find out about Seph's sponsor?

"Then it started looking like I would be taking in Xander," he tells me. "A boy who definitely wouldn't do well in private school. He would need a private tutor to help him out for sure, so I began looking into that even before he was officially placed with me."

Which explains why he was able to arrange for Xander to have lessons over the summer on such short notice. It was something he'd already spoken to others about. Whoever the sponsor is must have been someone from his list of potential tutors, then. They must have gotten the idea from him beginning to foster.

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"The more I spoke with Xander," he continues. "The more I realized that a regular education would likely make him the most comfortable. And aside from private tutors to help him out where he struggles, the money for middle and high school would just sit in the account. And I still wanted to give a child a better education, one he ordinarily wouldn't have a chance of simply because of the circumstances of their birth."

Wait…

"So I spoke with the academy," he tells me. "And they were resistant at first, then put in conditions like the child needing to qualify for the accelerated program and maintaining a place within it once they enter. I arranged it for one boy and one girl. Seph is the boy who got approved for the program, and he doesn't know who I am. All he knows is that he's being sponsored, his expenses relating to the school are covered, the sponsor assisted with him and his mother moving here, and he has to maintain high grades.

"And no," he says. "The academy isn't allowed to try and sabotage him. They're under a strict magical contract which forbids it. If he fails out, it will be his own fault. If they violate the contract, they'll owe me a fair sum, as well as Seph a fair sum. Enough to make them think only once about potentially doing so. Then never again. So they have incentive to avoid violating it as well."

Which explains why the teachers don't treat Seph any different. They treat him like just another student. Either they've known the whole time about his background, or they found out with the rest of the student body. The administration members who knew probably sent a very strongly-worded email to the staff stating that Seph is to be treated like any other student with a hefty penalty for failure to abide by that.

"So it was you this whole time?" I ask.

"It was me," he answers. "And I don't want Seph knowing. If he does before it's been at least a couple of years after the sponsorship ends, he'll likely feel as if he has to repay me. And I don't want that from a kid. This is purely to give someone who ordinarily wouldn't have such a chance the chance, and he's gifted enough he deserves to not only have it, but to do with his life after as he pleases."

"Okay," I say. "Well, I couldn't tell him even if I wanted to. I guess I understand why you want the secrecy, too."

"Thank you," he says. "Now, there were two things you wanted to ask?"

"Yes," I nod. "Right, so the other one. After Xander's last party, I was asked by someone from one of our company's business relations about my attending Xander's parties instead of the others."

Every one of Xander's parties has overlapped with a high-society one youth attend, apart from the Halloween one. Even in high society, no one would dare to try and make a party with youth attendance take place on that day.

Youth from all backgrounds want to participate in holiday festivities, not just the lower- and middle-class ones.

"I reminded them," I say. "That these are parties hosted by Xander King himself. It would be worse to decline the invitation or not participate the same as everyone else there than it is to not attend a high-society party. After all, this is Xander King."

Really, it has nothing to do with image and everything to do with trying to become Xander's friend. I don't care about any sort of business connection with him, I just want to be his friend.

"They did shut up after that," I say. "I mean, imagine if word got out that they were telling someone to not participate in Xander King's parties? Anyway, it made me wonder about the scheduling. They've all coincidentally been scheduled for when others take place. Some of them are understandable, like the pumpkin-picking party. A lot of people were doing it that day. But it made me wonder why he does them on Fridays instead of Saturdays. And I figured, you'd probably know, right?"

Since he's hosting them in the afternoons and I know he wants his girl friends to attend, not just his guy friends, it would make more sense for the party to take place on a Saturday after lunch. Hosting it on Fridays after school with a potential sleepover eliminates the odds of some of the invitees attending. There has to be some weird logic in Xander's brain which determined this.

"Hold on," Trey tells me, then does something on his computer. "Xander's going to be coming down here shortly."

"He is?" I ask as Xander moves a little, in what I think is him checking his phone.

"He is," Trey informs me. "Keep quiet once he's near."

So that Xander doesn't hear me questioning things, which would then probably make him paranoid.

I agree to that and sure enough, Xander gets up after another minute, then comes down. He's dressed in shorts in a short-sleeved shirt rather than pants and a long-sleeve. That's… actually surprising. There's no way he wasn't aware that I'm here but he stayed in his pre-dressing outfit.

He's also still in his wolfkin form, looking as cute as ever. I want to take a picture and send it to Tyler, but know that Xander would probably get annoyed if I did that.

"Dad," Xander says once he's in the office. "I was looking up when Festival of Frost parties are normally hosted. It says that it's usually on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. The Festival of Frost begins on a Sunday this year, so a lot of people are probably hosting theirs on one of the two days before it, right? So then others are probably gonna be busy, especially if they travel to visit family or something for it. Can I do it on the fifteenth? That's the weekend before that one. It's close enough it should still feel like it's for the holiday. And Friday makes sense because most people will probably want to host theirs on Saturday or Sunday, according to what I saw."

The fifteenth is also when a high-society benefit dinner takes place. The purpose is to raise money then to use to fund holiday meals and gifts for low-income families and foster children. It's also one where youth are expected to attend rather than being optional like with some others. Since it's a benefit for youth, it makes sense to request our attendance as well.

I'm about to mention this when I remember what Trey said. It would probably be better for him to let Xander know that, too. He will know how to word it best for Xander.

"That's fine," Trey responds. "Once we have the RSVPs, we can work on a plan for what to do. But try to come up with the basic idea for it before sending out the invites. Do you want it to be just a regular party? Or one more in-theme with the holiday, including some sort of gift exchange? Look up parties for it and see what you like, okay?"

Or he'll just approve the party's date regardless of what it would clash with.

"Okay," Xander says. "I'm gonna go back up to my room now."

Xander leaves and I open my mouth to say something, but Trey holds up a finger while looking at his monitor. A few minutes pass before he lowers his finger.

"He's out of earshot now," he tells me. "He stopped in the kitchen to get something."

He must have a security feed up on the monitor.

"He can hear in here from in there?" I ask.

"No," he answers. "But he can for a short stretch on his way from there to his room."

"Ah," I say. "You know the benefit is that night, right? And that Xander's party will definitely overlap with it?"

"Xander isn't as subtle as he thinks," Trey tells me.

"What do you mean?"

"He's purposely scheduling the parties to overlap," he tells me. "It's his way of trying to get out of them without being obvious about it. He just… doesn't realize that it's pretty obvious. The reason I knew he was going to come down was because I added to the family calendar that there's a benefit dinner that night with a note that there will be youth there."

So that's what Xander did when he seemed to pull out his phone. He got an alert of a change to the schedule, then checked it, then probably looked up stuff relating to the party.

"We did talk about the party during breakfast," Trey tells me. "So Xander probably felt it was okay to come down right away and let me know the date he'd picked out. With the Autumn Harvest party, he waited two hours. I'd asked him to think about what date he wanted to host this one and let me know."

"Ah," I say. "So all this time, he's been purposely scheduling them to coincide with those, huh? What about the others? There've been a few where he hasn't attended which weren't overlapping his parties."

I've noticed that he wasn't at those ones, but never questioned it before. Not all of them had the children of attendees expected to attend, but some did. If Xander was actually coming up with a reason not to attend, then he must have for the others.

"Depends on which one it is," Trey answers. "He has plans on Wednesdays, so those are usually no-go for him by default. Same with Tuesdays. But yes, he does come up with something anytime I ask if he wants to attend. I'm just letting him think he's not being obvious since he's happy and there's no point in stressing him out over feeling like he should just say 'no'."

"Ah," I say. "Well, that answered both of my questions. I'll get going, now. We're heading out to pick out our Christmas tree."

"We'll be doing that soon, ourselves," Trey says. "Though for Xander's rec room. I use an artificial tree for the foyer and another smaller one in the living room, so I don't need to pick a fresh one. They last longer."

"Yeah," I shrug. "We use magic to keep our tree alive until after the holiday."

"I reuse mine every year."

"Ah," I stand. "Good luck with the trip."

"Same to you," he says. "See you around, Luke."

"See you!"

I fold up the contract and tuck it into my coat as I leave. Back at home, the contract gets put in my own office, then I join my parents, Tyler, and Tyler's dad in the foyer. Even if Tyler and his dad don't have a place for a tree, they're joining us for the tree shopping and decorating.

My parents and I use one of our trucks to travel there, since a good tree won't fit in a sedan or SUV and we can hook a flat trailer to the back of the truck with ease. The tree farm is a little outside of town and once we arrive, we're led to the section with trees available for this year. They change the section available each year to ensure the trees have enough time to grow.

How they get them into different sizes while doing that, I'm not entirely sure, but I think it has to do with magic fertilizer.

"Will you be marking them for later pickup or delivery?" The woman guiding us asks as we reach it. "Or selecting a tree for pickup or delivery today?"

For people who can't afford the magic treatments to keep a cut tree alive and healthy for over a month, there are several options. Some simply give it a fresh cut and put it in water with the hope it lasts. Others will pick out their tree while there are still good ones, then have it marked as saved for them. Later, they'll either return for it to be cut or have it delivered to them.

But my family is one of the wealthiest in the world. Affording the magic treatment to ensure its health and liveliness for over a month is trivial for us.

"Pickup today," Dad answers. "I have preservation goo with me."

It comes in a tube he has in his coat. Apply to the cut immediately for best results. The goo essentially "primes" the tree for further treatments, but also contains plenty of plant magics within it. Then, all we have to do is apply a little more near the base every week. That can keep a tree fresh for up to two months.

"Okay," the worker says. "What size are you looking for?"

"Something twelve feet tall," Dad tells her. "It's for a large foyer."

"Those will be this way," she leads us to where some of the larger trees are located in this section. "Here we are! Let us know once you've picked one out."

"Will do," Dad responds, then looks at the rest of us. "Alright, let's pick one out."

It takes us awhile to find one suitable for our foyer. The tree needs to be large enough to take up plenty of space, with a lot of lower branches. All branches need to have plenty of needles, and they need to be healthy enough for our tastes and for appearances.

The tree farm does use magic to help maintain and grow the trees, so there are still plenty to pick from. As plant magic itself is rather difficult to use, however, there's only so much they can manage. A single family can only do so much and it's not as if they can just hire nature mages to help out left and right.

But as the two-hour mark draws near, we manage to pick one which suits our wants. The woman who helped us when we arrive rejoins us for the cutting.

"Who'll do the cut?" She asks. "And with chainsaw or ax?"

"Luke is fourteen now," Dad tells her. "So we'd like to let him do the cut. We also understand that you aren't allowed to permit children to use those. When we called, they said youth who use magic are permitted to, as long as they only cut the tree or trees picked out for us."

"That is correct," she confirms. "Though I still need to watch."

"That's fine," Dad says, then nods to me. "Luke, go ahead."

"Alright," I say, then crouch and reach toward the base of the tree on the side the employee tells me to cut at. "Everyone ready?"

They had to move out of the way, of course, in order to ensure no one gets crushed by a falling tree. None of us would get hurt by that, but it still isn't something any of us desire.

After receiving confirmation they're all ready, I reach my hand toward the base of the tree. A small blade of magical force shoots out of my hand and slices clean through, and the tree begins to fall. Dad catches it with magic to keep it from slamming into the ground, then tosses me the tube of preservation goo. I apply that to the base, then my parents carry the tree to the station for wrapping.

We pay for it, wrap it, and strap it onto the trailer. Back at home, the tree is set into a stand in the middle of the foyer, then a white cloth with clear sparkles decorating it is wrapped around. The tree skirt will need cleaning occasionally, for whenever any needles fall onto it, but it really helps complete the look.

What will complete the look even more are decorations. White strings with white and blue lights go up first, then silver and blue garland. None of the lights are on, and Tyler is audibly confused about why they connect together and their plug isn't shaped like a wall plug – it's more like a headphone jack. That's also up at the top of the tree rather than the bottom, while the control for the light settings is at the base of the tree.

Next are white, silver, and blue ornaments, most of which are ball-shaped, some of which are snowflakes. Naturally, we start at the bottom and the largest and heaviest ornaments are there. Ladders are used for placing things on the upper levels and by the time we're done, the tree is perfectly-decorated all the way around.

Not too much, not too little. Plenty of the tree is still visible, but not too much of that, either. Just as how the trees should be.

"Alright, Luke," Dad says as he pulls out the topper. "Will you do the honors this year?"

Our topper was custom-made for my family several generations ago and is made of mythronium, the same material I convinced the military to pay me with for dealing with the demons incident over the summer. This particular one was tuned to be primarily silver with gold accents.

"Yeah!" I answer, then accept the topper from Mom.

A small panel removes with a little input of mana from me, then I crystallize some of my mana and insert the crystal into the hole there. The moment the panel clicks back into place, many spots over the star begin to glow as if there were white lights inserted.

I climb a ladder and place the star atop the tree, then insert the plug for the lights into a small hole in its base. The moment I do, the lights turn on, and I climb back down. The ladders are moved away, and we look at the tree.

"Whoa," Tyler says. "That's all custom-made for you guys, isn't it? Or is that how mage trees normally are?"

"Special for us," Mom gives his shoulder a light squeeze. "The star was created around three hundred years ago, I believe? It's designed to work well with the lightning aspect in the family's bloodline, allowing the light enchantments to draw on less energy than normal."

"It was made as a gift for one of my ancestors," Dad adds. "And supposedly, helps to keep evil spirits away during the holiday season. Once Christmas lights became a thing, we had strings commissioned to work with that – the crystals we can make are able to contain a significant amount of mana, allowing them to power both the star and the lights all through the season."

"A single crystal, that is," I add.

"That's pretty neat," Tyler says.

"Yeah," I nod. "And whoever puts the star up gets to make the crystal. I was allowed to do it for the first time last year, since I turned thirteen."

"Ah," he says, then looks around. "By the way, how come I haven't seen Gabe here today? Ain't he staying with y'all? Or is he just sleeping in?"

"He's at his girlfriend's," Dad tells him. "Went over after you two went to bed last night and is helping them with their tree."

Gabe started dating her a couple of months ago, and has spent a lot of time at her place this past month. It doesn't surprise me at all that he's helping her family with this.

"And now that the tree is up," I say. "It's time for lunch!"

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