《Gray Mage: The Alchemist》


 Finding Your Feet

    If you have the chance to travel to a new world, would you take it?


    If you had the chance to be something better than you were, would you?


    If you did, what would you choose as your gift?


    Would you be blessed with great strength? The power to crush rocks with your bare hands.


    Would you accept the gift of knowledge? The power to know great mysteries.


    Would you take the gift of speed? The power to run with the wind and challenge the sky itself.


    Or would you be like me?


    I''ll give you a hint, do not be like me.


    I don''t remember exactly how I died in the world that I now think of as a dream. I remember being a college student. A college student of seven years. I was one ofthosepeople. I went to university with a general idea of what I wanted to be, but no real drive to make myself actually get there. I signed up for all the science courses I could find, because that was the only thing I really wanted to do.


    Then of course, I died.


    When I woke up from that dream and found myself here, in the land of Esturia. I suppose this is where my journey begins. Come away with me for a time, and I will tell you a story that should serve as warning. The paths to power are many and varied. Each has their price, and I certainly paid for mine.


    This is the story of me, the Gray Mage.


    XXXXXX


    Ethan Dyre floated in a vast sea of darkness.


    He tried to think of how he had gotten here, but every time he began, a small knot of pain in the back of his skull drew away his focus. The harder he tried to remember, the worse the pain got. In the end, he gave up and just let himself drift.


    He remained there for a time, until he realized that there was something floating in the void before him. A light moved lazily in time with him, swirling in a pattern. Cautiously, he reached out, not knowing what the light could mean, but daring to hope that it would be a form of salvation.


    Touching the light, he found himself standing in a room before a tome which laid on a pedestal of marble. Though he was naked, he did not feel the chill that the stone around him suggested should be present. His current state of undress did not really bother him, though something tickled the back of his mind in a way that made him think it should.


    The cover of the book was emblazoned with a single word. Esturia. Ethan touched the cover. Warmth spread through his body from the contact, and he opened the well-worn spine of this ancient book.


    The Tome of Blessings


    Choose your Gift


    Ethan wondered at that, then began to read.


    Hours, days, or even months later, he was not sure, he looked up. The book''s contents were swirling through his mind. He thought about the many gifts which were offered, many of them fantastical, others totally useless. Smelling colors? Jumping slightly higher than the average person?


    Looking down, he spotted one last word, it was a subscript in a book which was written in a font already designed to cause eye strain.


    Unlimited Potential


    He wanted that.


    Light exploded from the book.


    XXXXXX


    I opened my eyes for the first time in Esturia just in time to stagger out of the way of a carriage. The driver, not willing to spare any time for someone as lowly as a drab-garbed peasant, flicked his whip at me in passing, though it failed to strike me.


    I sat down against a tree, still dazed at what had just happened. The experience of that room had been surreal to say the least. Although I had controlled the actions of that person, I had not really felt like I was in that body at all. As I thought of the book, I realized that my memories of its pages were fading. All that remained of the time I had spent there was a single phrase.


    Unlimited Potential.


    I would later reflect that this decision had once again been a manifestation of the pathologic indecisiveness that had plagued me in my previous life and would be the first of many hurdles to overcome in my new life in Esturia. For now, all I could think was that I must have been on some serious hallucinogens to have picked that over something like elemental mastery.


    My sense of balance somewhat restored now that I had had time to sit down, I rose to my feet and stretched. My body seemed little different from the one that I had died in. I decided that I should try to find a mirror to see exactly how my body had changed.


    In the distance I could see a walled town towards which the carriage that had almost run me down earlier had been heading. I stood and stared at it a good long time before finally being interrupted.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Hey you!" A man''s voice interrupted me, "Are you going to stare at Vern all day or head inside?"


    I turned to look at a man wearing ragged clothing. Said clothing was covered in the detritus of a day''s work, and with a start, I realized that the sun had begun to set while I had been musing on things.


    "I uhhh-" I began.


    "Enough of that," He said, "Name''s Mike. You''d better hurry. The gates close at dusk, and it is best not to be caught outside when the witching hour comes."


    "The what?" I asked.


    The man rolled his eyes, "What are you, simple? The witching hour, when all the beasties come out."


    "Beasties?" I asked.


    The man snorted, then gestured at the town, "Ain''t got time to talk right now, just get a move on. By the Lady of Grace, if we don''t hurry, we''ll be someone''s dinner for sure."


    I watched his back as he began to move, then quickly hurried after him.


    "I am sorry." I said as I caught up to the man, "But could you tell me exactly what it is you are talking about?"


    "You don''t talk like one of the disciples in the temple," The man said, "But you''re just about as daft as one. Didn''t run into a Gollywobble did you?"


    "A what?" I asked.


    "Nasty creatures," He said, "Some prospectors run into them if they don''t have their lamps properly consecrated. They can suck the reason right out of a man''s head. Leaves a kind of a shell. The temple takes them in as disciples, though I don''t see how they could pay for their own keep, seein'' as how you need to care for ''em night an'' day."


    "No, my brain is fine," I insisted, "But I am new to the area."


    "Ah," The man said, "In that case, allow me to be the first to welcome you to Vern, frontier of the fine kingdom of Aramor. You''re probably from the consecrated north then, if you don''t know about the witching hour."


    "I''m ah, definitely not from around here." I agreed, trying not to begin my life with more than a lie of omission.


    "''Tis fine," He said, "Though you''re lucky that I ran into you. Name''s Mike, I''m one of them prospectors that I was telling you about."


    I raised an eyebrow, "What do you prospect?"


    "Around here?" He said, "I mostly scout out iron veins. The pay''s good if you can find a real motherlode, and it''s good work for a wick geomancer like myself."


    "A what?" I asked.


    "Boy, did you grow up in a cave?" He asked.


    "... Yes?" I replied.


    The man sighed, "At least tell me you''ve got some coin. I''ll be happy to tell you all about the wonderful world of Esturia if you buy me dinner."


    Belatedly, I realized that I did in fact have a bag on a leather string around me neck. Peeking in, I saw several coins of varying denominations. I pulled one out randomly, seeing that it looked like it was made of gold.


    "Boy," The man said when glanced over at me, "You''d best be putting that away before the guards see you have it. The entry fee of a single copper will suddenly become a whole silver if they know you''ve got a gold sovereign."


    I quickly put the coin away and drew out what looked like a copper coin.


    "Much better," He said, "Where exactly did you say you were from?"


    I grimaced, "I don''t rightly remember."


    Strangely enough, it was true. I could remember a lot of facts from my previous life. All the biology, physics, chemistry, and pre-medical courses I had taken were sitting in the back of my head. Even my training as an emergency medical technician was there. What I couldn''t remember were faces, names, and places.


    "You sure you wasn''t eaten by a Gollywobble?" He asked, "Even just a little?"


    I shook my head, "Positive. I just... can''t remember."


    He shrugged again, "Alright. I''ll have to take your word for it. I''m no black mage. Couldn''t peek into your head if I wanted to. Here''s the guards, just keep that purse of yours hidden, and let me do the talking. I''ll make sure you get inside without a fuss now."


    True to his word, Mike spun a tale for the guards that had them eyeing me with some wariness, though none of the hostility I would have suspected of a foreigner in this strange land. I paid the entry fee without complaint and we entered the city.


    "Thanks." I said to Mike.


    "You''re still buying me dinner," Mike pointed out, "I''ll consider it my finder''s fee."


    I smiled, "Where to?"


    Mike pointed at a run-down looking building with a sign that proclaimed, ''The Rusty Bucket,'' an inn if I wasn''t mistaken.


    "Lodging is cheap, though the smell isn''t great," Mike said, "And the food ain''t anything special, but it will fill you up. Everything but meat has to be imported due to the ah... difficulties of farming on unconsecrated ground."


    Mike introduced me to Falia, the proprietress of The Rusty Bucket. I won''t say she took an instant liking to me, but we would eventually become friends. In the meantime, she charged me three coppers for the meal and a night''s lodging. An extra copper got Mike his dinner and we were seated before long in a quiet corner, though the common room wasn''t very busy in the first place.


    "Now it seems to me that you might be a bona fide outlander." Mike said, "Is that the case?"


    "A what?" I asked.


    Mike settled back with his drink, "Outlander, stranger, alien. Take your pick. You just woke up on that road and haven''t the slightest as to what is going on around here."


    "How..." I began.


    "It''s not common," He said, "But all the tales start with that common theme. An outlander, come to Esturia for one reason or a another, that can''t rightly remember their past. Though for the life of me, I can''t figure out why they never mention how daft you all are."


    "So," I said, "I''m not the only... outlander?"


    Mike tapped his chin, "I haven''t heard of any new stories. The oldest is decades before I was even born. Lord Paendrin the Pyromancer. He was said to have appeared in a flash of fire that burned down half the Fae Wood. The fairies weren''t very happy about that."


    "I don''t think I''m a pyromancer..." I pointed out.


    Mike shrugged, "Most folks aren''t. The talent for magic isn''t especially rare, wicks like me are one in five people. Falia is an ember herself, though I''ve never seen her do more than light the hearth in the morning."


    "An ember..." I muttered, "So she''s a pyromancer?"


    Mike laughed, "Not in your dreams lad. I wouldn''t go around calling wicks anything of the sort. Falia is an ember, the weakest kind of red mage. I''m a sandfellow, the weakest kind of yellow mage. Calling her a pyromancer or me a geomancer without using wick as a qualifier... It''s likely to get you beaten at the very least. Especially over at the guild."


    "I''m confused." I said.


    "I can see this is going to take some time," He said, "Why don''t you go buy me another drink and I''ll start explaining."


    I nodded, standing up.


    "Oh, and another thing," Mike said, "I know that at some point, as an outlander, you''re going to want to go on some quest. The guild would be the best place to start, but let me warn you. Outlanders are not common, but they''re not rare. The ones that don''t make it into the stories... they die very quickly. Just a word of warning from an old wick."


    We were up well into the night discussing this new world that I had been thrown into. It would only be later that I would realize what a blessing it had been to encounter Mike, rather than somebody looking to fleece an outlander. Mike and Falia were honest people, and they were the only reason that I was able to survive my first week in Esturia without being robbed, beaten, or killed. Whenever I visit Vern, I make it a point to place another rock on the cairn that I built for the man when he died

 The Colors of Magic

    My first week passed like a blur. I had enough money on me to live at The Rusty Bucket for about three months, though Mike told me that it would be best if I started finding work to do. He took me out with him every day, though I was expected to carry his pack and hack away at any rock formations when he pointed at them during our travels through the caves scattered around Vern. Mike was determined to make it big, and to do that, he would have to find a true iron mine.


    Mike had an interesting talent. Although he called himself a sandfellow, he was more like an iron sniffer. The man could smell a mineral from two hundred meters away, through solid rock. It was a talent that few full geomancers could even boast, though Mike was able to do little more than lift small rocks with his magical abilities. He claimed that it was good enough for him, though he carried a quarterstaff for dealing with anything truly unruly. He even taught me my first lessons in self-defense, which would save my life in the near future.


    While Mike spent most of his time talking to me, the real reason why he kept me close to him became apparent after my first couple days with him. One morning, Mike declared unequivocally that I had no talent for geomancy. He cited my constant tripping over rocks as the main source of his intuition, though Falia took me aside one night and explained it properly to me.


    "You see Ethan," She said, giving me a motherly pat on the hand she had taken, "Even a wick can sense the magical potential of someone if they spend enough time with them."


    She held up a finger and a small flame danced before her eyes, "As an ember, I can sense that you have a great soul, although there isn''t a lick of affinity for flame in your body. If you want to find out what your affinity is, you''ll need to spend some time with a hydromancer or an aerotheurge. I''ll introduce you to some wicks that I know."


    Sure enough, Falia knew people. Just as surely, I didn''t have a talent for any of the so-called cardinal elements.


    "Well now," Mike said, "It could be that you have an affinity for white magic."


    He paused, then leaned in close, "Or it could be black magic that you have. Though I''ve heard that black mages don''t have your cheery disposition."


    I frowned at him and he laughed, "You''re too serious Ethan, try to relax a little."


    "How can I relax when I don''t have the slightest idea as to what my magical ability is?" I asked, "I don''t have an unlimited source of funds. Falia is nice, but she also needs to earn a living. What do I do?"


    Mike''s face sobered and he leaned against the wall, "That there is the question lad. I suppose you could always try to make a living as a mercenary, you''re not bad with that staff. In the extreme, you could become a serf, though I don''t recommend it, they''re little better than slaves."


    I grimaced, "None of those sounds appealing."


    "There is one other option..." Mike said, trailing off.


    "What!" I demanded, partially rising from my bench, "I''m desperate Mike, I''ll do whatever I have to."


    Mike sighed, "I was hoping to avoid this. I wasn''t joking when I said that the guild was good place for you to get yourself killed."


    I sat back down, "The guild?"


    "Adventurers'' guild to be precise." Mike said, "You''ve probably seen the big guys that walk around. Some women too, but usually only those with great souls. Vern isn''t that big of a hub for the guild, but the fact that it is on unconsecrated ground means that there is always a market for essence."


    "What''s essence?" I asked.


    "Well, you see," Mike said, "The main reason why I don''t use my magic for anything but rock sniffing is because doing so burns through a part of the soul called essence. At least that''s what the church says the source of magic is. Now, essence will regenerate on its own over time, as long as you are eating and drinking properly. The problem is that this takes quite a while, especially for people with middling to great souls."


    "As a wick, I don''t really have to worry about it," He said, "Even if I were to exert myself near to death, I would recover all of the essence I have available to me with just a night''s worth of rest. Middling souls require anywhere for two days to a week, and a person with a great soul can take almost a month before they are recharged from empty."


    I stared at him.


    "Now you boy," He said, "You have a great soul. Once you discover your affinity, you''ll be able to perform great works. Unfortunately, you will also have to spend a lot of time waiting for your soul to heal itself between uses. Most people with great souls rarely have the patience for that, so they buy essence from the guild or the church. It''s basically a shortcut to recovery, though it can be expensive, especially for those with great souls."


    Mike held up a finger, "Before you run off to the guild, I need to give you a stern warning. Never buy essence directly from the Adventurers'' guild, or anybody not officially sanctioned by the church. Adventurers hunt the monsters that come out after the witching hour for their essence. In the raw form, essence is deadly to magical practitioners."


    "The first time you use it, you''ll get a sense of euphoria," He said, "It''s better than any drug on the market. Firth''s quarter, down by the gate, do you remember the lady we saw the other day? Red eyes, blue lips?"


    I nodded.


    "She''s what we call a babbler," He said, "Anyone from a wick to a great soul can become a babbler if they ingest enough unpurified essence. It feels amazing, I won''t tell you that I''ve never done it, because I have, but the consequences..."


    He leaned close, "A babbler is just a shell looking for its next hit. It''s not so bad in Vern, because they''re usually easy to spot and avoid. In the larger cities, they have ways of hiding. They''re dangerous to themselves and others, especially when they can get their hands on some raw essence. When they do, they become a magic driven nightmare."


    I shivered, "So how can I avoid becoming one? Just waiting for my soul to heal naturally?"Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    He shook his head, "Won''t work. Even with a great soul you''ll never amount to anything if you don''t use essence. The church''s power comes from its use of white magic, they have a monopoly on white mages, as they train and exclusively use them. In addition to the healing powers of a white mage, there are a select few who have a talent for refining essence. Refined essence is less powerful, but it is also far less addictive than raw essence and will hardly ever turn you into a babbler."


    "Hardly?" I asked.


    "Well," He said, "Magic is still dangerous. Overuse of refined essence will have the same effect of using a lesser amount of raw essence. Being a great soul is a balancing act boy."


    I nodded, "Thank you Mike. I won''t ever forget the things you''ve taught me."


    Mike muttered something and looked down, but I could tell he was pleased.


    "Anyway," He said, "That wasn''t the point. The point is that the Adventurers'' guild has a way of identifying affinities."


    I perked up, "Really?"


    He nodded, "But it will cost you. Two gold coins to be exact."


    My heart sank. It had already been two weeks since I had arrived. Two gold would shorten my ability to stay at The Rusty Bucket by around two months.


    "On the upside," He said, "Once you know your affinity, you should be able to start earning some money. The guild will even give you some references after using their services to discover your affinity."


    "Why didn''t we just do that before?" I asked, a mild note of anger leaking into my voice.


    "It''s dangerous to be known." Mike said quietly, "Nobody cares about wicks, not even when we have a talent like I do. Oh, we''re useful, but that doesn''t mean that we''re anything more than trash mages to most practitioners. With your great soul though, you''ll be instantly noted, and by all the wrong people."


    "If your affinity is white, you can say goodbye to any form of freedom," He said, "The church will snap you up and drop you in one of its monasteries. Same if your talent is black, though nobody really knows what they do with black mages."


    I shivered.


    "But at this point," he said, "I''m not really sure what else to do. I pray that your affinity is for a lesser known magic, perhaps a combination of the cardinal elements. In that case, you''ll probably be ignored. Those areas are rare, and thus, there has been little effort in refining those specific trees of magic."


    I looked down, tracing a line on the table as I spoke, "What are the other affinities?"


    Mike spread his arms wide, "You might as well ask me to name the stars in the sky. The four cardinal elements are encompassed by the four prime affinities: Air, earth, wind, and fire. Besides black and white magic, those are the only well studied branches of magic."


    I scratched my head, "Unlimited potential..."


    Mike leaned forward, "What was that?"


    "Just something that I was told a long time ago." I said.


    He shrugged, "Whatever. If you''re bound and determined to figure out your affinity, you should go to the guild tomorrow, there''s really no other way that I know of."


    I nodded, a look of determination crossing my face, "Yeah. I''ll do that."


    XXXXXX


    The Adventurers'' guild was unassuming in the fact that it was much like the other buildings in Vern. It was a squat, two story structure that came dangerously close to knocking me out whenever I stepped through its entrance. Being tall was a curse in Esturia.


    The receptionist had been nice enough, and after making my payment, I was led to a room with a harried looking man in a robe.


    "Yes, what!" He growled, turning to see me.


    "I''m here for a test of affinity..." I trailed off.


    He scowled, then sighed, the anger falling away from his face, "Let me guess, none of the local wicks could sense your affinity?"


    I nodded.


    "Listen boy," He said, "I suggest you go back to the front and get your money refunded. Two gold is a steep price to pay for me to tell you that you have no aptitude for magic!"


    I shook my head, "That''s not it. All of the wicks have told me that I have a great soul, but none of them could sense my affinity."


    The man stroked his short beard for a moment, then crossed the floor to look me over. After poking and prodding me for almost a minute, he sat back on his haunches and muttered something under his breath.


    Light danced around me, and I gasped as a strange sensation flittered through my body.


    "Well," He said, "They were right enough about that. You certainly do have a great soul."


    "What was that?!" I asked, winded from the ordeal.


    "Practical magic," The man said, "Anyone who has been practicing with their affinity for long enough can use it. Simple stuff like accelerating the time it takes to sense a person''s natural talent. Much more convenient than having to spend two to three days with someone."


    "Doesn''t it cost essence?" I asked.


    The man shrugged, "That''s why you pay the two gold. Come over here."


    He gestured to me and I followed him. After rifling through several drawers he pulled out a perfectly spherical orb.


    "This is an affinity stone," He said, "Devilishly expensive to make. Be careful with it."


    I gingerly took the item and sat down in the chair the man gestured to.


    "Now, close your eyes and reach out to the orb," The man said, "It might take a little time, so I''ll be working. When you feel something tugging at you, let me know. That will mean that it is sucking up some of your essence."


    I nodded and closed my eyes. Mike had tried to teach me to sense the spirit of stone. Having failed miserably at that, the other wicks had tried helping me with their affinities. The simple matter was that I couldn''t feel whatever they did when they reached out to the weave of magic that made up the world.


    In this instance, I used the same technique, except instead of listening, I tried pushing.


    The stone responded.


    "It''s working." I said.


    "Already?" The man asked, "Ah, I see, that would make sense."


    I opened my eyes and looked down at the orb. Rather than clear crystal, it now showed a rolling fog. I almost dropped it in surprise. Luckily for me, the man was quick on his feet and he snatched it from my grasp.


    "Lose more orbs that way..." He muttered.


    "So?" I asked.


    He turned back to me, his bushy eyebrows twitching, "Unfortunately boy, it is my sorry task to inform you that your affinity is for gray magic."


    "What does that mean?" I asked.


    He sighed and sat down opposite me, "It means that you don''t have an affinity. Or more correctly, your affinity is null."


    "Null?" I asked.


    He nodded, "Gray mages are incapable of projecting their magic into the world. From the lowest wick to the greatest soul, their power is locked within themselves."


    I stared at him, "So I''m useless."


    He shook his head, "Not necessarily. Do you have any skills?"


    I thought carefully, "Well, I know a little chemistry, and I can treat injuries at a basic level."


    He nodded thoughtfully, "Chemistry, is it anything like alchemy?"


    I thought about that for another moment, then nodded, "I believe so."


    "As a gray mage, you won''t be capable of any great works," He said, "But anything that you work with, whether it be a potion, a cooked meal, or a forged weapon, will be intrinsically better than those things made by other craftsmen. Your power will flow into anything that you make with your hands and become better for it."


    "That''s it?" I asked, dumbfounded.


    The man shrugged, "I''m sorry boy. Gray magic is a rare affinity, and many of its practitioners become skilled alchemists or great smiths. At some point you may be able to use practical magic, but beyond that, you will never be able to do so much as light a candle."


    I lowered my head.


    "Cheer up boy," He said, "I''ll give you a letter of recommendation to the guild''s own alchemist. She is quite skilled at her craft and is in need of an apprentice. It won''t be much for now, but eventually you''ll be able to make elixirs which will sell far and wide."


    "In a way, this is better." The man said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "You can live a quiet life. With a talent like yours, you would always be in danger out in the world if you had a combat affinity. This way, you can live a normal life."


    Something deep and dark yawned in my soul. It was just like my old life. In this new world, I would be nothing new, nothing special. I was just another cog in a machine, destined to spin ''round and ''round for the rest of my pitiful existence.


    "Yeah," I said, my head still lowered, "Thanks."

 The Basis of All Alchemy

    Laurel Rafe was a red-haired firebrand with eyes as green as sea foam.


    She was also completely insane. I would later come to realize that it might have been the amount of quicksilver she worked with. I knew it by the name mercury and understood that handling it was an especially dangerous thing to do.


    "And so!" She said, "The first ingredient of any potion is a base! Are you writing this down?"


    I nodded, scribbling quickly.


    "Good," She said, "Diligence and hard work will get you far in this profession!"


    I had never had a problem studying, so my first day with Laurel was not as exhausting as it could have been. By the end of the day, I had a notebook full of factoids and half-truths, which I would later find out were based on word-of-mouth recipes passed from alchemist to alchemist, without proper implementation of the scientific method.


    My first task for tomorrow would be to travel outside of Vern and pick herbs from the forest. I was not especially worried about this, as Mike had already gotten me acquainted with the surrounding area, and I actually recognized some of the plants that my master was sending me out to find.


    "Unconsecrated ground," She said, holding up a finger, "Is in fact nothing more than ground which has not had the magic completely sucked out of it. The church likes to proclaim their goodness is making the people safe through consecration, but the truth is, all they are doing is robbing it of its magical potential."


    "But doesn''t consecrated ground also allow people to live outside of fortified areas?" I asked, "To do things like, farming?"


    Laurel snorted, "Life is adventure. The Sunrise Lands might be safe, but they are also terribly boring."


    "You spend all day inside the walls of Vern." I pointed out.


    She glared, "Don''t backtalk your master!"


    I sighed and bowed my head, "Yes master."


    She grinned, "Excellent, now here is what I need you to get tomorrow. Remember, the farther you travel from Vern, the more potent the magic in these herbs will be."


    I nodded, taking the list and heading back to The Rusty Bucket. I was paid up through the end of the month, so I would be staying there until I finished clearing out the cubby in the back of the shop that would be my living quarters.


    When I arrived at The Rusty Bucket I was surprised to not find Mike at his usual spot. It was well past dark, and I had never known him to even contemplate staying out after the witching hour.


    "Seen Mike?" I asked Falia.


    She shook her head, "He''s probably out on the town."


    She tried to sound confident, but I could hear the worry in her voice. Mike''s work as a prospector was dangerous. While the sun was out, monsters would stay away, that was just their nature. The light burned them. If Mike had stumbled into a nest of rathounds...


    "It''s probably nothing," I said, "Mike can take care of himself."


    Falia nodded, absently stroking her stomach as she looked out the window. I felt a terrible sinking sensation in my own gut. My appetite failed to make an appearance, so I asked Falia to credit me for breakfast and went to bed.


    The next day, I made sure to eat enough to keep me going past lunch, then headed out.


    As an official apprentice to the guild alchemist, I was now exempt for entry or exit fees, and the guards waved casually to me. They had grown used to me as I had travelled with Mike, and some of them weren''t bad fellows.


    "Hey Bern," I said, addressing the man at the left gate, he stood a little straighter.


    "Ethan?" He asked, "What can I do for you?"


    "Mike didn''t come through here last night did he?" I asked.


    Bern shook his head, "He might have come in through the Northern gate, though that would be strange, as he left by the Southern yesterday."


    I thanked him and we shared a look. Bern wasn''t a bad sort, but he was also a realist. I really hoped that both of our intuitions were wrong.


    I traveled to the forest nearby and began quickly gathering the herbs that Laurel had demanded. In little time, I had everything I needed, but I wasn''t ready to head back just yet. I knew where Mike had been planning to prospect today, and I wasn''t going to leave until I had at least seen the area. Grunting, I cinched my pack a little tighter, mentally telling myself to visit a leatherworker and get myself a backpack for work like this.


    It was time to go looking for Mike.


    I took up my quarterstaff and began the walk. The warm noon sun almost made me believe that everything was going to be alright. When I found Mike, that warmth became cold.


    His body had been ravaged by something at the very entrance of the cave. He had been so close, yet now all that remained of his desperate struggle was a pile of torn clothing, a staff, and cracked bones, the marrow sucked completely dry from them.


    I stared at the body for a long time. I was almost certain that it was rathounds. Mike had taught me to spot the signs of a nest. Based on the fact that they had devoured him here rather than drag him back to their lair, there were at least six of them.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Too many for me to kill by myself.


    I didn''t care.


    Leaving my pack at the entrance, I strode into the cave, my weapon clutched in my hands as tears rolled down my face. I missed Mike, but it would be a cold day in hell before I let that stop me from killing the things that had torn apart the only friend I had in this damn world.


    Whoever sent me here, I hate you.


    The rathound nest was easy to find. For those of you not from Esturia, imagine a rat that measures a half meter in length and a quarter meter in height. That is literally a rathound. It is classified as one of the weakest monsters but is quite capable of taking down a human if they work in a pack. Fortunately for me, they were still sleeping off their last meal. That thought made bile fill my throat.


    With ice running through my veins, I dispatched the first one by slitting its throat with a knife that Mike had given me. I got three more before the last two members of the pack smelled the blood. With squeaks of outrage, they jumped at me.


    One thing that all people with great souls share in common is enhanced bodies. I might not be able to project my magic, but I was still faster, and stronger, than a normal human. I struck with my quarterstaff, cracking the skull of the first rathound. It squealed in outrage as it thrashed on the floor, one of its legs still trying to propel it forward while the other hung limp.


    The second bore me to the ground, and I found my hands full of wet, coarse fur as slavering jaws snapped at the air directly in front of my face. I held on for dear life, pushing back with the strength of two men, though it was barely enough to keep the monster at bay.


    With a roar, I twisted. I was suddenly atop the rathound. Without hesitating, I began raining blows on its head with my bare fists, cutting them on the creature''s sharp teeth and whiskers. Each hit was a minor release for me, a catharsis that flowed with my own blood. I sunk into a haze.


    When I finally came to, my hands were bloody with my own and the rathound''s blood. There was little left of the skull, though the body twitched occasionally under me. I rolled off of it and groaned, the pain in my hands blazing through the cold of the cave around me.


    Idiot.


    I struggled up, then stumbled back out of the cave. I pulled on my pack, then gathered what little of Mike was left in my arms before beginning the trek home. Bern was there when I got to the gate. One look at my burden, and he silently gestured me towards the local chapel. I nodded and headed that way.


    Father Lyoch was a young man. When he spotted me entering through the doors, he excused himself from his conversation and hurried over to me.


    "Who is it?" He asked.


    "Mike." I said, my voice as cold as my heart.


    Father Lyoch nodded, relieving me of my burden, "I''ll make sure he gets his last rites. I''m sorry Ethan. You''d better go home."


    "Is there anything I can..." I began, but father Lyoch cut me off with a shake of his head.


    "I''ll make sure the remains are consecrated so that he doesn''t Rise." He said.


    What he meant was, he was going to burn Mike''s remains. Even bones are susceptible to the Rising if left alone for too long in an unconsecrated land. I hate this world.


    I somehow made it back to The Rusty Bucket and found myself sitting at Mike''s regular table. Falia came over, but when she saw my state, drove me out back to the small area she used for bathing. With tender hands and small bit of ember magic, she cleaned and dressed my hands. I thanked her and stared into the red water she had used.


    "It was Mike, wasn''t it?" She asked quietly.


    I nodded.


    Falia grabbed her belly again, and a half-choked sob escaped her mouth. Not knowing was else to do, I leaned into her. When she finally wrapped her arms around me, my own tears started to flow.


    XXXXXX


    "Up you get!" Laurel yelled, yanking the covers from my body.


    I groaned, my whole body felt like it was on fire.


    "Did you get the herbs?" She asked.


    I groaned again, pointing towards my bag.


    She checked, then nodded before dragging me out of bed. I hadn''t undressed the previous night, so at least I wasn''t naked. I was still being dragged down the street in a half-comatose state. When we finally arrived at Laurel''s shop, she sat me down at the alchemy bench and began dropping things in front of me.


    "Wha..." I began, still muddling through exactly what was happening.


    "You should have come back to the shop after being injured like that," Laurel addressed me sternly, "If you had come yesterday I could have whipped something up to counteract the rathound poison."


    "I didn''t know..." I muttered.


    "Idiot," She said, "Hunting rathounds without backup! Did you at least get the essence?"


    I shook my head, the world going fuzzy at the movement.


    "You''re the most hopeless apprentice ever." She said, "In any case, the potions that I make won''t help you at this stage of the disease. However, because you''re a gray mage, you should be able to make something that will keep you from dying."


    "Oh." I said.


    "Now listen closely!" She said, slapping a hand on the table, "Your life depends on this!"


    I nodded.


    Base: 5% alcohol wine


    Two sprigs of Curall


    Six Borcara leaves


    One Helsblood


    One drop rathound bile


    As I worked the ingredients together, I felt something strange, something beyond the fever that was wracking my body. For the first time since I had arrived in this new world, I was practicing magic. The best way I can describe it is the feeling of drawing a splinter from the flesh. Mildly painful, at first, but a wave of relief following the extraction. The giddy feeling of magic flowing was like an intoxicant.


    I could finally understand how people could get addicted to using magic.


    The potion shone with an inner light that faded the moment I pulled it from the flames, the last step of cooking it together complete.


    "Down the hatch!" Laurel declared.


    I brought the potion to my lips and drained it. Strangely enough, even though it had been over open flames just moments before, the liquid was cool. Within moments of the liquid hitting my stomach, I began to feel a wave of relief washing through my body. Laurel dragged me to the cubby that was supposed to be my new room and dropped me unceremoniously on the floor.


    "You''ll be recovered in about an hour when the stuff finally permeates your system." She said, "I didn''t really think you could do it. You''ve surprised me, well done."


    True to her word, I was feeling more like myself within an hour. Sitting up, I groaned at the stiffness of my joints.


    "Curatives don''t heal," She noted from her bench, her hands moving at a feverish pace, "Since you''ll probably heal on your own, we won''t bother visiting Father Lyoch."


    "Can''t we just make a healing potion or something?" I asked.


    Laurel laughed, "A what?"


    "You know," I said, "A potion which can heal injuries."


    Laurel laughed harder, "Oh you poor soul. There is no such thing as a healing potion! Even if there was, it would have to be made by a white mage. Even if it did exist, the essence cost of making such a thing would be astronomical!"


    I rubbed my head, "But we didn''t use essence in the potion I just made."


    "I had a theory and it panned out, it looks like one of the perks of being a gray mage is that you can infuse your own essence into potions." She said, "I would keep that under wraps though. There are a lot of people who would take advantage of an ability like that."


    She waved her hand and a flame danced to life beneath the potion she was making, "You''ll never be as flashy as a spark such as myself, but you''ll definitely end up as a better alchemist than me."


    "Oh..." I said.


    "In the meantime!" She said with a malicious grin, "I''m going to get all of the use out of you I can get. Start brewing my young apprentice, your master wants to make some money!"


    I groaned, not in pain this time though.

 The Elixir and the Toad

    Laurel worked me to the bone from that day forward. For the next two weeks I would be at her shop at dawn and leave only after the witching hour rush. When my lease at The Rusty Bucket finally ended, I moved into the shop and worked even longer hours. I hated it at the time, but when I look back, I realize that Laurel was protecting me in her own way. The slavish way in which she drove me kept me from thinking about Mike during the day and left me too exhausted at night to have nightmares about him.


    During that time I memorized the recipes that are a part of every alchemist''s repertoire. Curatives, which were the cheap solution to finding a white mage when it came to poisoning. Even the smallest wound caused by a magical beast could be fatal to an adventurer. A curative taken in the proper time, or in the case of my own curatives, before the heart stopped beating, was capable of staving off a lingering death, and worse, the Rising.


    The Rising is one of the ghastlier side effects of living in unconsecrated lands. Anything with sapience which died in lands which had not been drained of their magic, eventually rose again as an undead monster. Worse, if a Risen person was allowed to persist more than three nights, it grew stronger. A favorite tale of adventurers was the Risen King. A great soul who had perished in the far southlands, and now wandered the wastes, seeking to raise an army to destroy all living.


    Strangely enough, curatives had no effect on infections beyond those caused by magical creatures. I decided to ask Laurel about it one day.


    "It''s because curatives are highly specific," She said, "You may not have noticed because I''ve had you making mainly rathound curatives, but each specific magical beast''s poison can only be cured by a specific curative. Rathounds are the most numerous menace around Vern, so I have you make them in quantity. A rathound curative would stave off the effects of a bile toad''s venom for a while, but the victim would still die."


    "Can you teach me to make more curatives?" I asked, "Or better yet, can you teach me to make a universal curative?"


    Laurel laughed, "This isn''t like the medicines you always talk about Ethan! It''s magic, plain and simple. One curative works for one type of poison. I don''t make the rules, I just follow them."


    "What about a bile toad curative?" I asked, "Would it work on a rathound''s poison?"


    Laurel paused, then pulled a book from one of her shelves and started flipping through it. After several minutes she slammed the tome shut and sighed.


    "I... I don''t know." She said, "I don''t think it''s been tried before."


    Do these people not understand what the scientific method is?


    "Maybe we could ask an adventurer-" I began.


    Laurel prodded me with her pestle, "Listen very closely apprentice. We make curatives to save lives. We don''t play around with curatives. We use what works, because when we don''t, people die. Curiosity killed the cat, and in this case, the cat''s patient. Always remember that."


    I nodded, lowering my head, "Yes master."


    Beyond curatives, Laurel also taught me how to make several types of elixirs and potions. She warned me specifically to never use potions, as they had a degenerative effect on the body after even a single use.


    "A potion is a strong tool," She said, "We make them because sometimes adventurers just need an edge. The problem is, every time that a person drinks one, it damages their body in some irrevocable way. A strength potion might help you survive, but after the effects wear off, the total strength of which your body is capable will be permanently lowered."


    "The use of elixirs is a different matter completely," She continued, "Elixirs supplement the training and growth of an individual. They take a long time to show dividends but will eventually make a person stronger than they could have been on their own, and at a faster pace."


    "So why don''t we make elixirs for everybody then?" I asked, "If Mike had been a little stronger..."


    Laurel patted my hand, "It''s essence again. The cost to make elixirs is sizable, and you have to buy many of them for the same overall effect you would get from a single potion. Adventurers save for years before purchasing an elixir set from me. Once they do, they usually end up leaving Vern to find more dangerous foes."


    "I don''t have that problem." I muttered.


    Laurel laughed, "Yes you do. Curatives require relatively little in terms of essence. If I put you to making a batch of elixirs, you would run yourself dry by your second or third one. Then you would have to wait until your soul healed naturally or would have to spend money on essence. A little counterintuitive, don''t you think?"


    I nodded thoughtfully, "I would like to try though."


    Laurel eyed me warily, "The ingredients for elixirs are rare. You can''t just make them out of plants, they require materials from monsters. Discounting the essence cost, it''s still expensive. I would be taking a risk."


    "Please?" I asked.


    She sighed, "Okay, but you''ll owe me if you screw up. If you feel like you''re reaching your limit, let me know. I don''t know if infusing external essence half-way through the brewing process would work, but the extra nudge might be the difference between abject failure and stunning success. If you don''t add just the right amount of essence, it will completely ruin the elixir."


    "Right!" I said, excitement swelling, "Let me at the ingredients!"


    She grinned, "I knew there was a reason I liked you. This recipe will produce a six round batch of a relatively minor strength enhancing elixir. We''ll assess how you''re feeling after that."


    Base: Purified water


    One heart of a Minotaur, quartered


    Two cups of Fenmel


    Six and half leaves Vyrken


    Two Gryphon feathers (preferably fresh)


    The list went on. I staggered slightly as the size of it, but Laurel took it as a matter of course.


    "Is there any way to substitute things?" I asked.


    Laurel shrugged, "Once you complete your apprenticeship you can go ask another alchemist for their recipe. They''ll charge in either money or a favor, but you could compare the two. It''s theoretically possible, but with the cost of materials..."


    "Right." I said, "Thanks though Laurel. I think I''m starting to get the hang of this."


    "Tell me that when you''re done with this batch." She said, "As a reward... I''ll let you look through my personal grimoire. If you can make any level two elixir from it, I''ll promote you to journeyman."


    "What does that mean?" I asked.


    "No more mass produced rathound curatives for starters." She said, giving me a grin.


    "I''m on it!" I yelped, suddenly energized.


    The first thing I noticed while brewing the strength elixir was the increasingly euphoric sensation of magic flowing out of my body and into the mixture. I had to pause several times to steady myself, as I truly feared messing something up if I let myself work any longer. Somewhere halfway through the process, that pleasant feeling began to morph into a feeling of stretching. It manifested itself as discomfort for a minute or so.


    Then the pain started.


    At first, it was needles in my feet. Slowly, those needles began spreading up my calves, then to my thighs. My legs began to shake. Laurel noticed my unsteadiness and lifted up one of my pant legs, running a hand across my calf. I barely noticed.


    "Interesting," She said, "I thought you would have passed Merkel''s limit a while before now.


    "What?" I gasped, the pain climbing towards my navel.


    "Merkel''s limit is defined as the point at which the pleasure of using magic suddenly becomes pain. It still feels good though, doesn''t it?"


    I nodded, my head, the sensations lancing through my body making me want to scream and laugh at the same time.


    "As it stands," She continued, "You''re more than halfway done with the brewing, and you''ve just barely begun tapping into the last half of your essence capacity."


    I didn''t respond, all of my mental capacity focused on the brewing now.


    "Good," She said, "Keep your focus. Many people with great spirits die because they can''t focus through the sensations that magic brings. Some people think that all babblers are the product of raw essence. The truth is, at least half of them are middling to great souls who couldn''t take this."This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The rest of the process was almost dreamlike. When I finally finished, I was staring up at the ceiling, absently glad that Laurel wore trousers instead of a skirt.


    "You may want to stop thinking," She said through the haze of my mind, "Your mouth is running with your thoughts. I''m flattered, but I make it a point not to sleep with my apprentices."


    I vaguely noted the drool dripping down the side of my face. Laurel stepped over me and examined the copper vessel in which I had finished the brewing.


    "Well," She said, "Unless I am very much mistaken, you have concocted a level one strength enhancing elixir. Let''s get you tucked into bed, you''re in for a wild night."


    She wasn''t wrong.


    I tossed and turned for most of the night, wanting to drift off, but unable to. My flesh felt raw, as if someone had taken a block of salt and scrubbed me down thoroughly. Everything that I touched felt like fire. Then I started to feel the bugs crawling under my skin.


    I vaguely remembered Laurel hauling me into a tub and dumping some kind of liquid into the water. It frothed and I was lucid for several moments. Long enough to wonder where my clothes had gone. Then darkness took me.


    Laurel told me later that I was out for an entire day. With the number of quality of dreams that I had during that time, I am loath to doubt her. Laurel claims that she saved me from death by essence drain because of the money that I brought in from that single batch of strength elixirs. I don''t think I''ll ever believe that. Well, not entirely. I did make a lot of money for Laurel as her gray mage apprentice.


    True to her word, Laurel kept my secret. Well, the truth was, she kept the secret of all the gray mages that have ever been. Gray mages were generally regarded as the lowest type of mage, but that was because no gray mage yet had wanted to become a tool of the church or state. I think Laurel understood that better than I did while I was with her. That was why she kept the secret, and why she ordered me to do so as well.


    I will always be grateful to Laurel Rafe.


    Of particular note, I do remember one of the dreams I had during this time. It is a dream that has come to me time and again over the course of my life, though I did not realize its significance then. It was a simple dream. I stood in complete darkness, the world around me quiet as death. Hung in the air were two works, connected by a weaving of light.


    Unlimited Potential


    Alchemy


    XXXXXX


    One week later


    "This is my fault really," Laurel said, working her hands over my temples as she examined my eyes, "I may only be a spark, but I should have known that using that much essence in one sitting would provoke some burnout."


    "I''m fine, really." I said, though I would be lying if I said that I was 100%.


    "Well," She said, letting go of my head, "What''s done is done I guess. For now, we''re going to devote an hour of your day to meditation."


    "Why?" I asked.


    Laurel sighed, "Because you idiot, if you ever want to go beyond making minor elixirs with that affinity of yours, you''re going to have to learn some control. Essence burnout isn''t that common, but it is one of the leading causes of preventable, nonviolent mage death. I didn''t think of it because you''re not a cardinal mage. It looks like we''re both learning things as we go."


    "Thank you master." I said.


    "Maybe I''ll make you call me mistress someday." She said, grinning wickedly.


    Please no.


    She grew serious, "Meditation will help you control the flow of essence through and out of your soul. The only problem is that I haven''t the slightest idea where your outflow tracks are."


    "My what?" I asked, looking down at my body, "Is something flowing out of me?"


    "Essence you dummy," She replied absently, having gone back to looking me over like a prime cut of beef, "For a pyromancer, the outflow is just over the heart, symbolizing passion."


    She gestured at her chest, "That is why I always touch my heart before using magic."


    "Oh." I said.


    She watched me for another moment, then finally spoke, "Strip down."


    "What?!" I yelped, drawing back.


    "You can keep your underwear on," She said, "but everything else comes off."


    "Why?!" I protested.


    "Do you want this to work or not?" She asked.


    I hesitated, then nodded in assent.


    "Than while I''m stumbling around here in the dark," She said, "You''re going to have to accept that fact that I''m going to make some mistakes. Some that might hurt you. This will only embarrass you."


    As I got out of my clothes, Laurel closed up the shop and got out the ingredients for a curative.


    "Make me a twelve batch of rathound curative." She ordered.


    I complied, though with only my underwear between me and the world, I felt distinctly self-conscious. As soon as I started the mixing, I could feel the tortured pathways in my body cry out in a combination of ecstasy and pain. Apparently I hadn''t yet regenerated enough essence to pass Merkel''s limit in the opposite direction yet.


    Things just got worse when Laurel started running her hands over my body.


    "What are you doing!" I yelped, almost dropping the curall I was working with.


    "Shut your mouth and keep working," She growled, "I''m looking."


    I somehow got myself working again as Laurel continued to feel me up. She stopped when I was almost done, and my own aching body quieted down after the curative was cooked. I quickly dressed.


    After I finished, I turned to look at my master, only to find her buttoning up her own shirt.


    "What?" I asked, dumbfounded.


    "I told you," She said, gesturing at her chest, "My outflow track is just over my heart. I don''t have a divination talent, so I had to improvise. It''s easier if there aren''t any clothes in the way."


    I could feel my face heating up. Strangely enough, Laurel seemed unaffected by the fact that she had just been half-naked with me. I wondered briefly if this were something that mages did often. I really hoped not.


    "So..." I asked.


    She jumped slightly, as if I had interrupted a long train of thought. I suddenly understood her lack of embarrassment. She had just been lost in thought.


    "To be honest, you''re leaky." She said.


    "What?" I asked.


    "You pushed yourself too hard with the elixir," She said, "You''re leaking essence from multiple sites right now. I''ve seen this once before, in a mage who became a mundane shortly thereafter."


    I gaped, "Do you mean that I could..."


    She nodded gravely, "You could lose your magic."


    "What do I do?" I asked.


    Instead of answering, Laurel grabbed another book down from her shelf and began flipping through it. After several minutes in which I felt a steadily growing icicle in my stomach, she finally slapped a finger down on the page.


    She looked up at me, "How do you feel about bile toads?"


    XXXXXX


    Bile toads aren''t very dangerous. True, they do have poison which can kill you, just like all other monsters. In fact, their poison is deadlier than that of the rathound, even though they are much smaller creatures. The thing is, if you run into one, it is more likely to retreat than try to fight. Even if it does attempt to kill you, the only way it can get poison into your system is by spitting in your eyes. Adventurers hunting bile toads are advised to use eye protection at all times.


    I wasn''t here to hunt bile toads. I was here to have one spit on me.


    Bile toad poison has two major effects. The first is the killing effect, which it shares with all other monsters. The second is generally not thought of, due to the fact that when death is involved, it is usually the primary issue. In the case of the bile toad, their poison''s secondary effect is that it blocks outflow tracks. I would later find out the reason for this, but for now, I''ll simply say that I knew this because Laurel said it was so.


    That was how I ended up waist deep in pond scum, my face covered in foul smelling toad mucus. It should also be noted that bile toad spit burns like a mother.


    "Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed, throwing myself completely into the water in an attempt to scrub the stuff off.


    "Keep splashing!" Laurel called helpfully from the sidelines, "You want to get as much into your system as possible."


    I swore at her and continued trying to alleviate the burning in my eyes. Laurel laughed at my antics, and I found the wealth of gratitude which she had compiled in my heart steadily draining away.


    "Did you keep the toad?" She called.


    I held up the carcass of the thing which I had crushed when it had spit in my face. Catching the thing had been almost impossible. Once I had it in my hands, it had been more than willing to oblige my desire. Unfortunately for it, my reflexive squeeze and crushed it to death.


    Good riddance.


    "Good," She said, "Don''t lose it. There are some uses for it that we can explore later."


    "I would like the explore the distance at which I can throw it." I grumbled.


    "I''ll let you cut it open!"


    I decided that I would keep it, if only so that I could torment its flesh further out of spite. Bloody toads.


    Laurel and I quickly made our way back to the shop, where we repeated the dance from this morning, though with Laurel jabbing various parts of my body rather than running her hands all over it. The sensation was a little more bearable due to the fact that she seemed more clinical than last time.


    "Well," She said, "It seems to be working."


    I nodded, then held up the bottle of rathound curative that I had just made, "I hope this works."


    "I believe that this will be a test of this ''scientific method'' of which you are always praising." She noted.


    "The fact that it''s a curative made by a gray mage also helps," I pointed out, "Besides, the sample size is far too small for this to be a true experiment."


    Laurel rolled her eyes at me, "You talk too much. Drink up!"


    I obeyed.


    The sensation of coolness spread through my body once again, and I waited for something to happen.


    "We''ll know by tomorrow if you''re going to survive." Laurel said, "In the meantime, let''s get back to work. And put some clothes on, pervert."


    "This was your idea from the start!" I yelled.


    She only responded with a grin as she turned to open up the shop, forcing me to dress quickly.


    XXXXXX


    The curative worked against the killing effect of the bile toad''s poison, though it had no effect on the outflow blockage effect. I briefly wondered aloud to Laurel at one point whether or not I even had an outflow track, based on the fact that gray mages couldn''t affect the world around them like other mages did.


    "Well of course you do silly," She said, still mixing away, "If you didn''t, your little trick with alchemy wouldn''t work at all. Although I saw a lot of places where your soul was torn, there was a definite spot where the outflow was steady."


    She held up her right index and middle fingers, "Two of them. Barely large enough to let out more than a trickle, but they were there."


    I held up the two fingers she had mentioned, "Is it the same for all mages?"


    "There are variations," She said, drawing a larger circle over her heart, "All pyromancers share this as their area, but within that area there is variation. Females especially tend towards the upper limit."


    I blinked at that. Why was Laurel smiling in such a way?


    Oh.


    "Right." I said, feeling heat in my cheeks.


    "You''re too easy," She said, "Are you sure you''re a man?"


    I frowned, "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    "Nothing," She said, brushing a lock of hair from her face.


    I let it go.


    "By the way, you''ve told me where the outflow track for pyromancers is. Do you know where it is for other mages?" I asked.


    She nodded, "The cardinal ones at least. White mages are awfully strict about their secrets, and black mages, well, I haven''t met any."


    She answered my question by pointing to various parts of her body. Aerothurges released essence from the area around their nose and mouth, no surprise there. Hydromancers generally had tracks in their abdomen. I suppose that made sense, though it struck me as more a mental thing than a hard and fast law, as I knew from my old life that the majority of the body was water, and thus, could technically serve as a track. If my conjectures about the nature of magic were correct in any way.


    Last of all was geomancers. I thought of Mike when she told me about them. Geomancers released essence from their feet. Most often it was the soles, but it could be the tops in some rare instances.


    "That''s why most geomancers will stomp the ground before using magic." She explained, "Although its technically not a requirement, some people at the Collegia Magico believe that it primes the body for the release of essence. It sounds like a lot of crap to me, but that''s coming from someone who habitually touches her heart before using fire. So take my words with a grain of salt."


    The bile toad poison did its work. As it passed from my system, Laurel performed one last checkup on me, confirming that my soul hadn''t torn itself apart before it could properly heal. I wasn''t convinced that she didn''t just enjoy making me squirm

 The Merciful Alchemist

    The next eight months of my life passed without real incident. I continued to grow my repertoire of curatives, potions, and elixirs. Once I started receiving a cut of the elixirs I made, I even started experimenting on my own. This is probably the reason why Laurel never suspected the truly outrageous rate at which my essence regenerated itself. I myself didn''t realize the enormity of it until much later in my life. I was fortunate to have it though, because it meant that I had the essence to spare for my personal studies.


    Though these were my first forays into accessing the first of my talents, it was not until I visited The Rusty Bucket that I began my first tentative steps onto the path which would lead to the my receiving the title that I was known in Vern as: The Merciful Alchemist.


    "Ethan?" Falia asked, looking me up and down, "You''ve certainly grown, though that is hard enough to imagine, considering how big you were when you first got here!"


    I stared at her, "Falia?"


    She grinned at me, "Something different you noticed about me?"


    "You''re pregnant!" I accused.


    She put her hands on her hips, her swollen belly pointing at me, "Are you implying that I have gained weight young man?"


    I stared at her in mortification until she burst out laughing.


    "You caught me." She admitted.


    "Who..." I froze, "Never mind, it''s not important."


    She smiled at me warmly, "It was Mike."


    I felt tears prickle my eyes as I thought of my one time mentor and first friend in this strange world of Esturia.


    "Is everyth-" I croaked, cleared my throat, then continued, "Is everything okay? With the baby I mean."


    I would have killed to have an ultrasound right then, but beggars would ride if wishes were horses.


    "My sister is a midwife," Falia explained, "She sent her daughter Elsie over to help me out with the Bucket. She says I shouldn''t be straining myself so late in the pregnancy, but what can I do?"


    "I can give you money if you need it!" I declared, "You don''t have to work!"


    She glared at me, "Ethan! I''ll have you know that I''ve run the Bucket for almost a decade, and nobody, not even a babe, is going to keep me from my work!"


    "You should be resting," I said, lowering my voice, "You''re practically due!"


    She eyed me, "What are you, some kind of white mage? What kind of man has his nose in women''s business?"


    "I was," I began, then struggled, "I''ve been trained as a surgeon!"


    Technically not true. But my pre-medical days and work as an ER technician probably placed me somewhere in the top tier of the primitive medicine that was practiced in Esturia. Well, the kingdom of Aramor anyways.


    "Well," Falia harrumphed, "If I need someone to chop of my leg or bleed me, then I''ll be certain to call you."


    "I''m an alchemist too!" I protested.


    "I don''t need a potion or elixir." She pointed out.


    "I can help," I pleaded, dropping to my knees, "Please Falia!"


    She tilted her head at me over her abdomen. Something in my eyes must have convinced her that I was serious, because she sighed and hauled me to my feet.


    "Don''t be so dramatic Ethan," She said, "If it''s for the baby... then I think I can trust you."


    I grinned, "Thank you Falia! I won''t let you down!"


    "So," She said, "What exactly are you planning on doing to me?"


    I held up a finger, then lowered it. All of my training was based on having a level of medical infrastructure which was utterly lacking in this world. I wasn''t a white mage, so it wasn''t like I could lay my hands on Falia or her baby and command them to live. Come to think of it, if I were a white mage, I wouldn''t be here. All I had here were my powers as a gray mage.


    I needed to make some things, and fast.


    Without responding, I ran for the exit. Slipping and sliding down the wet cobblestones, I quickly arrived at the door to Laurel''s home. I began pounding incessantly.


    "What the hell do you want?" Laurel asked, her eyes half-closed, "And where do you get off pounding on my door at his time of night!"


    "It''s not even tenth bell," I pointed out, "Why are you in bed so early?"


    Laurel gave me an appraising look, "Wouldn''t you like to know?"


    Nope. Definitely not.


    "Look," I said, "What kind of things can we do for childbirth. Oh, and bleeding. Massive bleeding."


    Laurel''s eyes widened, "You want to tell me exactly what''s going on? Did you get some girl pregnant before you became my apprentice?"


    I shook my head, "Not enough time. Not my kid, but that of a dear friend."


    Laurel sighed, "Wait here."


    I stood in the rain for several minutes before she returned with an oiled satchel, "These go straight to the store and they don''t go anywhere else, got it?"


    I nodded, gratefully taking the package.


    "Mandrin''s guide to childbearing is the authority on the subject, though I would guess that you have some things to say about that," She explained, "It also contains several highly controversial potions that claim to restore blood. Just note whatever you use out of the stores and I''ll deduct it from your next round of wages. I trust that you have the capacity to differentiate between a slurry of ingredients and a true potion?"


    "Understood, yes ma''am." I said.


    She smiled then, "You''re a good kid Ethan. This girl must be something special."


    "You have no idea." I replied, "I''ll see you around!"This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    I dashed off into the night to make my preparations.


    The blood potions ended up being duds. Either I was not good enough to make them, or alchemy truly wasn''t a healing art. I made a mental note to look into it further, then did the only sensible thing that a half-crazy man would do.


    I built a centrifuge.


    It was ugly, hand operated, and the vials I used to store the materials I was working with were co-opted alchemy equipment, but it did the job right. The intention of my magic somehow made up for my lack of mechanical engineering skills. Being gray sometimes had its perks.


    It was much easier to file down a thin steel pipe into a large gauge needle, then sterilize it and some rubber tubing for use as a phlebotomy kit. The nurses at Central Mercy would have killed me daring to stick myself with something like that, but they weren''t here to complain to me.


    Over the next two weeks I managed to get two pints of blood out of myself, centrifuge it down, and pull out the red blood cells. I thanked my lucky stars that I was a universal blood donor, as I wasn''t sure I could have convinced even Laurel go along with my insane scheme. Laurel even had a nifty little refrigeration device made with some kind of enchanting magic. I promised myself I would check it out later.


    I poured myself into everything I did, literally. I don''t know if it was my sheer desperation, or my growing powers as a gray mage, but I don''t believe that there had ever been a more essence-laden operation carried out in the world to that point. I think Laurel ended up using the leftover blood products as an essence substitute for an elixir, which still makes me shiver sometimes.


    I won''t go into the details of the night when little Micah came into the world. I will tell you that I used every last drop of the blood I had gotten out of my body and a large amount of sterilized saline to keep Falia from bleeding to death after giving birth. I also taught the midwife how to perform a uterine massage.


    It was the first time that I combined the medical knowledge I had brought with me and my powers as a gray mage. It was ugly, and Falia almost died anyways, but through a combination of reckless ingenuity and desperation, I managed to pull it off.


    When I held baby Micah for the first time, I realized that there were some things in this world worth fighting for. When I handed her back to her mother, who was still alive thanks to my insanity, I decided that maybe I could do some of that fighting.


    XXXXXX


    "Are you Ethan?" A woman asked.


    Looking up from my book on alchemical theory, I stretched, then nodded, "That''s me. Welcome to Laurel''s alchemicals, is there anything I can help you with?"


    The woman looked around the shop, then her eyes rested on me. I could tell she wasn''t an adventurer based on the way she dressed. In fact, she looked more like someone''s mother, with her graying hair and pale blue eyes. It wasn''t really common for non-adventurers to seek our services. Alchemy was the domain of those who lived fast and hard. Curatives were relatively cheap, but a commoner rarely had need of them.


    "Falia tells me that you are an accomplished physiker." She said.


    I scratched my head, then felt a small light go on inside, "Ah, you mean a physician."


    "Yes?" She asked.


    "I''m more of a technician than a physician," I said, fearing the wrath of those nurses, even from another world away, "But I''ll help however I can. What seems to be the problem?"


    "My son has rotgut." She said, as if that would explain everything.


    "What?" I asked.


    "The herbalist says that he will die by tomorrow morning," She held a hand up to her face, "Falia told me that you can do... things."


    "You can go to Father Lyorcha," I said, "He''s a good sort, he will help you."


    "He tried," She sniffed, "He said that it was beyond him, he would need an upper priest for this type of sickness."


    I glanced around, but Laurel was nowhere in sight. She was getting used to having me here, meaning she usually left me to manage the shop during slow hours. I shrugged and hopped off my stool.


    "I''ll come take a look," I said, "But I can''t promise anything."


    She nodded gratefully through eyes that had long since cried themselves out. I closed up the shop, indicating that I would return soon, and followed her for fifteen minutes until we reached one of the squat, cramped tenements which the local populace lived in. Vern was a frontier town, so space was a premium, as everyone had to fit inside the safety of the walls. While simple laborers were needed, they were packaged in to the point where I wondered if Firth''s quarter was in danger of collapsing when I sometimes walked near it.


    Ascending several flights of stairs, I found a small room with three cots laid out. On the one farthest from the door I saw a young man, probably just shy of his teenage years, breathing heavily. He had been stripped to his small clothes, and cooling cloths had been applied to his skin, but the sheen of sweat on him let me know that he was burning with fever.


    The stench was horrifying.


    I knelt next to him and began touching his abdomen. Within moments I knew exactly what was wrong with the boy. I stood up and turned to his mother.


    "I believe your son has appendicitis." I said, "From the looks of it, it could rupture at any moment."


    I could see tears well in her eyes, "D-does that mean..."


    I sighed, turning to look back at the boy. There was no way that I could do anything about this. I didn''t have access to antibiotics. I could make potions that would allow a grown man to wrestle a lion, elixirs that would unlock the potential inside of any person, and curatives that could bar the door of death in certain cases. I could even make a few poisons, though that was-


    Poisons.


    The alchemical gears in my mind began whirring. Medicine in my world was in many ways barbaric when compared with the power of white magic. White magic was a holy force that could heal injuries in a moment. In my world, we often had to cause damage to our patients to heal them. I was no white mage, but I was a gray mage. Intention was just as much a part of magic as science was of medicine.


    I knew what to do. Kneeling down, I swept up a handful of soiled linens.


    "I need these!" I yelled over my shoulder, sprinting out into the noonday sun.


    I scraped a sample of the horrid smelling stuff off of the linen at my alchemy desk and dropped it in a vial, then added rathound bile and several curative ingredients to the mixture. When my brain stopped supplying ingredients, I started mashing them together. Focusing my intent, I pushed essence through the mixture. Tailored poisons were the realm of an assassin. An assassin was just an alchemist without morals.


    A flash of light faded as I sprinted out the front door, right past Laurel, who managed to yell some kind of obscenity at me as I skidded around a corner. I arrived at the tenement in minutes, where I left several people in the dust as I barreled through the halls, praying that I wasn''t too late.


    The boy''s mother was kneeling next to him, and I may have bowled her over in my haste. She didn''t mention it later, so I can''t be sure. In any case, I hurriedly forced the small vial of poison down the boy''s throat. He coughed once at the rough ministration but managed to keep it down. I held him for long moments, my head pressed to his chest. If this was going to work, I would need supremely good timing.


    The labored sound of his heart skipped a beat, then began beating at a terrifying rate. It was now or never. Whether he lived or not was now up to chance. Uncorking a rathound curative, I dosed him with it, praying that I wasn''t too late. I continued to press his chest to my ear, every one of those ragged beats pounding out my guilt for failing to act quickly enough.


    His heart slowed.


    Over the course of five minutes his heart rate and temperature slowly dropped.


    Sighing, I set him down, then collapsed backwards myself. I may have pushed myself a little too far.


    "Mister Ethan..." The boy''s mother said, her face appearing in my vision, "How can I-"


    I waved a hand, "Don''t worry about it. Just... let the people know that when this happens, they need to come find me immediately. Your son is lucky that he didn''t suffer an appendiceal rupture. I''ll teach you what to look for."


    She bowed her head down, her forehead touching the floor, "Thank you."


    I sat up and pulled her up, "You''re welcome, but where I come from, nobody prostrates themselves before another. I certainly don''t want to start something like that."


    She held out her hands, a tarnished silver and a handful of coppers in it, "This is all we can offer. We can find more if you-"


    I gently took her hand and wrapped it around the coins, "I don''t need your money ma''am. Just take good care of your boy, that''s reward enough for me."


    Despite my earlier words, she touched her head to the floor, refusing to rise until I had left.


    "I hope that was worth it," Laurel said, "You spent around three silvers to save that boy."


    I scowled at my master, "I would have spent five gold pennies, or even a sovereign, if that is what it took to save a life."


    Laurel regarded me for a long moment, then sighed, "You''re such a troublesome kid. You remind me that there are still good men in the world."


    I smiled, "Who''s your favorite apprentice?"


    "My favorite journeyman actually," She said, "I''ve been holding back for a while, but when you created a potion on the fly that could cure rotgut... Not even the Collegia Alchemica would deprive me my right to promote you."


    I thrust a fist into the air.


    In the coming weeks I started working on my own formulae, bound in a book that I had made myself. I spent a lot of time at the local herbarium, where I took the first steps towards becoming the first master of the art of medical alchemy.

 The Place I Used to Call Home

    One year later


    I sat in The Rusty Bucket bouncing little Micah on my knee as her mother busied herself with the few people that patronized her establishment for dinner. Falia may have once been a great beauty, but years of hard work in a town with as little compassion as Vern had worn her down to a handsome one at best. Her hazel eyes had the sort of wariness that comes from experience with hard men and her back was bent ever so slightly at rest. Shots of white crawled through her otherwise lustrous brown hair, though to me, it just made her look wiser.


    "Graaaaa." Micah blubbered at me.


    "I think so too," I replied, "Though don''t tell mother."


    "I heard that you two!" Falia called from across the common room. Well, the common half-room maybe.


    I glanced up at the four essence lanterns which I had made for Falia as a birthday present. In all honesty, they had been my first forays into the world of enchanting, and I had made them because I needed the practice. The making of the things had been personally expensive in the high grade materials required, but now Falia wouldn''t have to worry about purchasing lamp oil.


    While this show of wealth would certainly be terrible in any other lower-class inn, The Rusty Bucket was known to be patronized by the Merciful Alchemist. That would be me. People were known to leave with broken kneecaps if they bothered Falia.


    I don''t remember when my alias first appeared, but it was spoken in deferential terms by the common folk and adventurers alike in Vern. Last year I had begun tinkering with medical alchemy and had run into a stunning amount of success in the implementation of such. By combining the disciplines of herbalism with the pseudo-mystic art of alchemy, I had been able to create a variety of cheap, portable alternatives to the ever-scarce services of the town''s resident white mage, Father Abraim Lyorcha.


    Father Lyorcha didn''t mind so much. He had told me in a lone moment that he was in fact grateful. The young featherling, the second weakest type of white mage, could barely keep up with the injuries which my alchemical medicine couldn''t handle. Before that, there had been several deaths every month which could have easily been prevented. Now there were none such. Well, few anyway.


    It was mildly embarrassing to walk down the street and have men and women twice your age make way for your passage. I honestly hated it and tried to hide my identity most days with a hooded cloak. Of course, doing so in the early summer heat was the best way to attract attention, but I was stubborn damn it!


    "Penny for your thoughts?" Laurel asked, dropping onto the bench next to me and grimacing at the dark ale in her hands, "This stuff tastes foul you know."


    "Then don''t drink it." I offered brightly.


    "There is no way that I''m coming to this place and not at least getting buzzed" She said, "How come you don''t drink anyway?"


    "Liver cirrhosis." I said blandly, looking down into my purified water.


    The mug was another of my most recent creations. The water in Esturia was, and this was putting it generously, filthy. I finally got tired of the strange flavor, or absence thereof, of distilled water, so I finally gave in and convinced Father Lyorcha to let me look at the church''s holy chalice. As I had suspected, it was an enchanted item, inscribed with a purification seal.


    As a gray mage I am entirely incapable of using white magic. However, the complex trigonometry involved in the creation of the inscriptions used to create enchanted items is a way of sidestepping that particular flaw in my character, as long as two conditions are met.


    One, I create the item myself. I have become a jack of many trades in the past year. It has cost me a lot of money to learn the basics from the various masters of Vern without having to apprentice with them, but it has been worth every last copper penny. My talent, that of unlimited potential, has come in handy there, as I seem to be able to pick up basics relatively quickly I only really hit roadblocks when I have to start working things out for myself.


    Second, I have to make the inscription myself. This may seem self-explanatory, but the truth of the matter is that most mages with great souls pay a professional inscriber to work with them on making enchanted items. As a gray mage, this won''t fly. My magic only works when I personally take part in the creation process.


    At first glance, this seems like it could be the solution to all of my problems, right? Well, that would be wrong. Enchanting is very time consuming. Especially if you have to hand-craft the items involved and do all of the inscribing yourself. Beside that, enchanting is perhaps the most frustrating form of magic on the planet. Inscribing must be done perfectly, by which I mean, even the slightest deviation will result in several days'' worth of wasted effort.


    This cup, with a basic purification seal, took me over one-hundred hours of labor, and approximately five gold pennies in wasted materials alone. I don''t have any real understanding of inscriptions. I''ve been working on it diligently, but it''s like learning a whole new set of rules for physics. Except the physics is actually biology. Pretending to be philosophy.


    It''s a nightmare.


    My musings were interrupted by a note which suddenly slid itself into my view on the rough wooden table.


    "What''s this?" I asked, keeping the precocious Micah away from the paper.


    "It''s a recommendation," Laurel said, "To the Collegia Alchemica."


    I stared at it, "What am I supposed to do with it."


    Laurel sighed and swatted the side of my head, "You take it to Aramor, the shining star of the kingdom, and you present it to the headmaster. He reads it, gives you a test, and you go in."


    "Why can''t I just train here with you?" I asked, "I think you''re better than some stuffy old professors in a dark room. I''ve been to a university you know, it''s not all it''s cracked up to be."


    "The Collegia Alchemica is associated with the both the Collegia Magico and the Collegia Academico." She said, "They share the same library."


    "Library..." I pondered, "Is it full of books by Alchemico Mandrin? If that''s the case, it may be time for a great burning."


    Laurel snorted into her drink, "I believe Alchemico Mandrin has a dozen books in the library. That said, there are many more competent authors who have found their way into its halls."


    "So you''re shuffling me off?" I asked, "There''s still so much I need to learn!"


    "So much to learn?" Laurel asked derisively, "You do realize that I''m the one copying recipes out of your grimoire now, right?"


    "That''s because you keep setting the edges of yours on fire." I noted, looking suggestively at her ale.


    She patted me affectionately on the head, "You''re too kind to your washed-up old master Ethan. The truth is that you''ve gone beyond me. I may be a master alchemist, but I''m really just a cook who uses fancy materials. You understand the books on alchemical principals and theory that I''ve pretty much given up on."


    "I told you to stop working with quicksilver," I pointed out, "And drink those purifying elixirs I made for you. You''re not just a master alchemist, you''re a great alchemist, o'' master mine."


    I must have said something wrong, because she grew silent at that. Micah was kind enough to fill in the silence while we both wallowed in our self-pity. When Laurel looked at me again, she had a hard look on her face.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "Do you know why I was sent to Vern?" She asked suddenly.


    "Your stunning good looks?" I ventured, my smile accompanied by a gurgle from Micah.


    Laurel ran a hand through her hair and smiled back at me, though her eyes grew no softer, "It''s because I''m a washout. I completed my master training and tried for Alchemica. I cracked under the pressure and got transferred out here to where I could do the least harm to the good name of the guild."


    I lightly hammered my fist on the table, "They were wrong master. You''ve done a lot of good in Vern."


    She pointed at me, "You''ve done a lot of good here. I''ve been living day to day. Producing the same potions, curatives, and elixirs day in and day out. You blew through my lab and set my head swirling. I haven''t turned a profit this large since... well, ever. People respect me again. I got a letter from the master of the Whelden guild office, the head there wanted some advice about a certain ''antibacterial salve'' that had come out of my workshop."


    "And?" I asked.


    "I sent him your notes." She replied, "Copied of course. The point is that people are interested in the things you do, not the things that I do."


    "And who was it that took in a lost, hopeless gray mage and turned him into an alchemist?" I asked.


    She sighed, "I guess I can take credit for that one."


    Micah screeched in reply, causing both of us to laugh.


    "If I see far, it is because I stand on the shoulders of giants," I quoted, "Master, no matter how far I go in this strange world of Esturia, I will never forget the people who helped me when I needed it most."


    I tilted my head towards Falia, "That''s why I come here at least once a week these days. The food is... serviceable-"


    "I heard that!" Falia yelled.


    "-But Falia and Mike took me in at a time when they could have easily taken me for everything I had."


    I took a moment to hug Micah close to me. She reciprocated by wrapping her arms around my neck and resting her head on my shoulder. It must be bed time.


    "I can''t do anything for Mike, but I can damn well do something for these two," I said, "And you needn''t think I will forget you either master. Just keep taking those elixirs. I know it seems like you aren''t getting any better, but they will help."


    "They taste vile." She said.


    "So does your cooking," I said, "But I don''t complain."


    "You..." Laurel growled, then put on a sickly sweet smile, "Did I mention that there is a one hundred gold penny tuition fee? Half is due on arrival, the other half at the end of the year."


    I blanched, "So much?"


    "Of course," She said, "I could always write you a letter of mark through the Alchemists'' guild. If..."


    I felt a growing sense of dread, "Please, no."


    "Oh come now my beloved journeyman!" She pouted unconvincingly, "I know how much you love my rathound liver surprise!"


    "I''m going to go put the baby down," I said, "And reconsider several of my life choices."


    I ended up eating the liver, although I felt like I had sold myself at a low price the next morning. Proper treatment of monster meat rendered it edible, but not palatable.


    XXXXXX


    The third and final piece of enchanted equipment that I had built was an unassuming satchel. I had paid through the nose for a look at a passing merchant''s strongbox and quickly copied down the two inscriptions placed upon it. After several weeks working with a local leather worker, I had managed to make a satchel bag. With just my gray magic empowering it, it was already slightly larger inside than it was outside. It also reduced the weight of any item placed inside of it.


    With the addition of a storage inscription and a recall trigger tied to a small quartz crystal I wore on a thin steel band around my finger, it was the closest thing to a true bag of holding that I could construct right now. The space inside was rather large. The only real problem I had was remembering what exactly I had stored inside it, as items could only be recalled by speaking their name to the recall ring. I kept a notebook in my pocket with its current inventory.


    Why am I bringing this up? Because today I had enlisted the assistance of every child in Firth''s quarter, at the price of three coppers per child, to harvest every last piece of plant matter between Vern and the outer limits of the Darkwood, a place far less ominous during the day, despite its name. Abel, the young man I had saved from dying of appendicitis, had taken it upon himself to be my personal deputy, and had viciously haggled the kids down from five a piece.


    It was good to have friends in low places.


    "Has everybody got their sketches?" I asked.


    The boys and girls nodded, bobbing up and down like racers preparing for the Olympics. I had made sure to distribute pictures of the various herbs I wanted among the groups. With luck on my side, I wouldn''t need to purchase any of the flora native to Vern for a very long time.


    I turned to Bern, "Lieutenant, I believe three silvers will cover the entry and exit fee for these rapscallions."


    Bern rubbed his mustache, "Make it four, and I''ll forget that you''re letting kids out there."


    I chuckled, we both knew it was safe. Nonetheless, I would be going out with them to be nearby, just in case. My newest walking stick was more than a little fortified by my magic, and I had been training with the good lieutenant.


    The clink of silver signaled the start, and the kids were off, myself following after them at a steady trot.


    The day passed swiftly, the kids making several return trips to me so that I could empty their full bags into the storage space. A party favorite to be sure. I called a halt two hours after noon, and my small army accompanied me back to the Southern gate, where lieutenant Bern was waiting.


    "Ethan," He said in a formal tone, "I believe that something was left for you just inside. I''m afraid that you''ll have to deal with it before you can travel beyond the immediate area of the gate."


    I nodded grimly, "Of course captain."


    The kids around me had grown quiet. They shuffled uncertainly, suddenly aware of the other guards standing around. I led the way inside to find a rather large box sitting on a table. With a flourish, Falia pulled the lid off to reveal a collection of cakes.


    I regarded them calmly as the air around me grew tense, "I see. This is very serious. If only I had someone to help me dispose of these..."


    Abel piped up, "You can count on us Ethan!"


    I regarded them stonily, then nodded, "Very well Abel, I will leave it to you."


    With screams of delight, the children descended upon the sugary feast. I had already paid the children in advance, but they would probably remember this moment long after those three coppers were well spent. Falia came to stand beside me, resting a hand on my arm.


    "We''re going to miss you." She said, indicating the girl strapped to her chest by a convoluted mess of fabric that I had taught her to use.


    Micah gurgled in agreement.


    "Yeah," I said, "I''m gonna miss you guys too."


    "Mike would be proud of everything you''ve done." She said.


    "Yeah," It was raining on my face for some reason, "I think so too."


    XXXXXX


    I would like to say that I made my getaway without further ado, but that would be a bald-faced lie. I did manage to evade anything that even remotely looked like a large-scale farewell. I know this sounds bad, but I hate saying goodbye, and I hate being the center of attention. That might be why my great soul chose to become a gray mage rather than something flashy like a pyromancer.


    I should have remembered that Laurel was, in many ways, a much wiser woman than I was a cunning man.


    "You really think that you can sneak out on me like that?" She asked, a letter held between two fingers as she waited by the Northern gate.


    "I didn''t want to make a fuss." I admitted, hanging my head down.


    "I understand that from the village as a whole," She said, "But me, your beloved master, too?"


    Beloved?


    Laurel stepped up to me with a smile, "Besides, you''ll need this if you want to get into the Collegia."


    She brandished the letter and I reached for it. Before my fingers could close, she pulled it out of my reach.


    "After you read this, I''m going to ask you one thing," She said, "Before I give it to you, you have to agree to do it."


    I raised an eyebrow, "What exactly am I agreeing to here?"


    She smiled, "It''s nothing that you won''t mind giving me. Besides, don''t you owe your master after all of the work she has put into you?"


    I sighed, "Fine. I really hope I don''t regret this."


    She grinned, then handed me the letter.


    Master Rafe,


    Upon consideration of the alchemical recipe you submitted on behalf of your journeyman, the Alchemists'' guild finds no reason to bar the advancement of your student to the rank of full master, with all of the rights, privileges, and duties thereof.


    Sincerely,


    Southern Border District Office, Whelden


    Inside was a pin, bearing the cup of alchemy, each of the four cardinal elements erupting from its depths.


    Laurel stepped forward, "I''m very proud of you Ethan. I believe it is my right as your master to pin this on for the first time."


    "Master..." I tried to say more, but no words would come.


    She affixed the badge over my left breast, precisely at the point where the primary outflow track was found on her own body. I wondered if that was on purpose.


    "Now," She said, stepping a little closer, "Master Dyre. I believe you owe me a favor."


    "I seem to remember something like that." I muttered, "Although I will state for the court that it was made under duress."


    "Noted," She said, then leaned forward, "Now kiss me."


    Surprisingly, her lips tasted like cinnamon. I''m not ashamed to say that I gave her more than a brotherly farewell. She finally stepped back, both of us breathing heavily.


    "I meant what I said about not sleeping with my students," Laurel said, "I didn''t say anything about ex-students though. If you''re ever back in Vern you should look me up. I''ll finally get the chance to make you call me mistress."


    With that, she threw me a wink and strode away. There was a distinct possibility that she was putting a little too much sway in her hips. But only a possibility. Maybe she was just practicing tightrope walking.


    I briefly debated whether or not I should find a reason to stay in town for just another night. Although alluring, I think there is something to be said for letting some things age. Namely myself. I whistled a little tune to myself as I passed through the gates of Vern for the last time in a long while.


    I made sure to place a rock on the cairn I had erected for Mike just outside the walls.

 By Earth and Wind

    Travel by land in the southern border of Aramor is by its very nature, a dangerous thing. While the North is bordered by the Sea of Winds, and the East by the Ridgeback Mountains. Both the South and West give way to the inner continent of Esturia, known only to its people as the broken lands.


    The broken lands are a lush garden of life which sits atop an infinite expanse of ruins left by an ancient civilization. Adventurers with great souls often venture into these ruins in search of ancient artifacts and the essence of more and more dangerous monsters. Many do not return.


    The influence of the Broken Lands is felt on any ground not consecrated by the church. The exact process of consecration is kept a secret, but in the doing, the land is rendered safe from several pernicious effects of the Broken Lands, such as the Rising. The other effect that consecration protects from is known as the Awakening. The Awakening is the driving force that transforms natural animals, plants, and even the land itself from docility into the ravening monsters which are held back by the combined efforts of the church, the Aramorian army, and the Adventurers Guild.


    Surprisingly, the most potent force for keeping the Broken Lands at bay is the Guild. The Guild is able to operate this way due to the extremely lucrative essence trade, in which they specialize. What men and women will not do for the love of their country, they will most certainly do for the promise of a reward.


    It is not uncommon to find adventurers traveling the lands that border Aramor, and I was not surprised to run across a group myself. What surprised me was the fact that they were all dead. At first I had supposed that some were merely injured, but the truth was far worse than that.


    I pushed myself up from my examination of the last body. I would have liked to suspect monsters, but the wounds on these men and women were too clean, and none of them had even been snacked on. It was likely that whoever had murdered this party had robbed them and left their bodies to be consumed by the creatures that would arise in the night.


    I was still contemplating exactly what I should do when I was distracted by the soft sound of metal scraping against metal. I froze, listening intently for all that I was worth. My quarterstaff, a beautiful thing carved from ironwood, had been crafted by my own hands, and had thus been infused with as much essence as I could bring to bear.


    More sounds came, and I ducked into the bushes. Glancing out, I saw that there were two figures wearing burnished plate armor. They moved among the bodies, kicking occasionally to make sure that the dead were truly gone.


    "She ain''t here." One of the figures said, a man by his voice.


    "Not surprising," Came a woman''s voice, "Great souls don''t die as easily as these middling trash. Especially great earth souls."


    I gripped my staff. Whoever these people were, they were probably at least as powerful as I was. They likely had combat affinities too. If they spotted me...


    "She''s probably moving North," The man said, "Makes the most sense."


    "Agreed," The woman replied, "Though, we should have some of the hunters fan out both East and West. Just in case."


    I closed my eyes and waited as they mounted their horses and moved off. Focusing for a moment, I concentrated and focused essence in around my nose. Mike had tried to teach me the principle behind his talent. In all honesty, I didn''t really understand it that well. What I did understand, was that essence was useful for more than casting spells. It could also enhance the body for short durations. It was my only real manifestation of my strength as a great soul in combat.


    I smelled blood, mixed with... sand. Turning east, I started forward. If there were hunters coming, I had to reach the injured survivor first. It was likely the only way that I would find out what had really happened here. That, and I had already seen my fill of death in the short time I had been alive. People die, there is no getting around that. But those who cut life short deserve no life of their own.


    I ran.


    More than an hour later, I finally paused for a breather. I could certainly keep up my pace, but if I wanted to preserve myself for a looming fight, then I would need to spread my efforts out. I had little fear of the middling souls that probably comprised the hunters catching up with me any time soon. Unless of course they had an aerotheurge with them. Even a lark would be able to pace me, although a windbrother would have better luck.


    I briefly contemplated using one of the surprises I had packed away but decided against it. Now was not the time.


    Another hour of running put me in the general vicinity of the great soul. If I were able to use practical magic I could have used a locator spell. Instead, I hunkered down and focused on my hearing. My patience was rewarded by a hint of metal on stone. Moving slowly, I crept into a small clearing.


    Propped up against a tree was a woman. Judging by her armor and the sword held loosely in one hand, she was the geomancer I was looking for. There was also the stab wound through her belly. I hated to think about how long that had been there, and how far she had traveled with it.


    Her breathing was shallow, and I could tell that her muscular frame was being held up by solely by the support behind her. Her face was narrow and angular, though not without a severe kind of beauty. I had the feeling she spent little time smiling.


    Standing carefully, I stepped out of the trees and cleared my throat.


    Pure white hair rustled as a pair of golden eyes flashed open, a head raised in defiance against what was to come. With some effort, she managed to bring her weapon to bear on me. When she got it in place, it held true.


    "I''m not here to hurt you." I said.


    She only glared at me.


    I took a gentle step forward, spreading my arms to show her that I was armed only with a walking stick.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "I''m an alchemist," I said, "I just want to help you."


    She continued to regard me, then blinked once. Her eyes flashed between silver and gold, then narrowed.


    "Great... Soul." She ground out.


    She was in rough shape, I had to do something quickly.


    "Yes," I admitted, "Though I''m only a gray mage."


    "Swear." She gasped out, "On your great soul."


    I hesitated, then spoke, "I swear on my soul''s strength that I am here to do no harm."


    The funny thing about oaths in Esturia, they are very serious. Swearing on your soul is tantamount to putting a noose around your neck and trusting someone else to not pull a lever and let you fall. Swearing on my soul''s strength, then breaking such an oath, would permanently damage my soul. Not terribly at first, but eventually, with enough broken oaths, I could be reduced to a wick.


    With a clatter, the woman''s sword hit the ground, her eyes closing once again. I rushed forward to catch her as she slumped to the side.


    Her breathing had grown even, though whether she was meditating or sleeping I could not tell. Either would be good for her right now, so I let it be.


    "Medkit." I whispered, reaching my hand into my bag.


    A moderately sized metal container emerged from the bag and I set to work. I carefully cleaned, then bound her wounds. There was no way she was going to survive without the intervention of a white mage, but my specific brand of healing ointments and my newest incarnation of the potion of vitality would keep her from dying for a few days yet.


    Her most pressing disability was complete essence drain. It looked like she had used her geomancy to fortify her body against the pain and had pushed herself to run as far as she could. A fine tactic if you knew help would arrive, but a death sentence if you were alone.


    ''And yet here you are'' A little voice in the back of my head whispered.


    I told myself to shut up.


    A gray mage is incapable of projecting his will into the world. That''s one of the rules by which my magic operates. For a very long time, people have thought that meant that gray magicians were only really good for crafting superior tables, or the occasional genius alchemist.


    While it is true that a gray mage cannot project his will into the world as other mages do, that does not necessarily mean that he cannot project essence into the world. This is something I''ve been thinking about and toying with for a long time. Whenever I make something, a part of me flows into it. What is the difference between that and how cardinal mages use their powers?


    It''s simple, they ignite their essence into their element of choice. All I can do is imbue objects with my power. So why can''t I imbue people with it too?


    While the different types of mages release their energies from different points on their bodies, all mages share an inflow track in the middle of the forehead. This woman had an essence container, called a phylactery, on a headband directly over the area. It was empty, but that wasn''t the problem. I removed the circlet and pressed my first two fingers against the spot.


    It was surprisingly easy to link with the woman''s soul. I had never done this before, but the frayed and empty state of her being pulled greedily at the essence I had stored within my own body. I knelt there next to her for several minutes until the familiar euphoria of essence use began to turn to pain. Maybe just a little lo-


    "My, how touching." A woman''s voice sounded from behind me.


    Well crap.


    I removed my fingers and turned slowly, taking up my quarterstaff as I confronted our pursuer.


    "Considering that I''m not a pillar of ash right now," I said conversationally, "I assume that you''re not a pyromancer."


    The woman was dressed in light armor tinted in green. Brown eyes sat beneath of head of auburn hair. I guess I would be okay being killed by this woman.


    "How perceptive," She said, "Of course, at the rate you made it here, I assume that you are also an aerotheurge."


    I shrugged, rolling my shoulders, "Something like that."


    "Oh," She said, then disappeared.


    Left.


    I brought my weapon up and her sword rebounded off of the soul-hardened wood, sending a jolt up her arm that must have smarted.


    "You''re fast," She noted, "If you''re not an aerotheurge, then surely a hydromancer."


    "Guess again," I replied.


    Low.


    CRACK!


    "Oh-ho," She said, "A pyromancer then, though one who isn''t willing to burn. Interesting."


    "I''m afraid to disappoint," I growled, "But I''m really just an alchemist."


    ''Who has been using speed elixirs for the past year.'' I added internally.


    She blurred again, though this time I was too slow. Caught off balance, the weapon skittered up the side of my staff, laying open my left hand. I focused essence to that area and whirled my weapon, buying myself some breathing room.


    "Coagulation powder." I snarled.


    A handful of the stuff appeared in my hand and I growled as I rubbed it into the wound. I would be slower now, but at least I wouldn''t be bleeding out at the first provocation.


    "My," The woman said, "Someone is feeling uppity then. Tell me, how did you manage to get here before me if you''re just a mundane?"


    I grinned, "I''m not mundane. I have a great soul."


    Infusing my body with essence, I struck with all of the speed I could muster.


    Too slow.


    I ducked as the woman''s blade took several locks of my hair.


    Talking time appeared to be over, and I was about to be run through by a middling aerotheurge. Well, that''s what I thought in that moment anyway.


    "Stand fast!" I heard the yell from behind me.


    SHIIIING!


    The aerotheurge''s weapon slid cleanly off the blade of the woman I had just finished treating. Eyes wide, the hunter and I turned to look at the woman. Instead of a barely standing cripple, I found a proud knight standing fast, all hints of weakness gone. Power blazed in her eyes as she wove earth magic through her body, fortifying it beyond the limits even my elixirs could grant.


    Oh right, she''s a geomancer. As long as a geomancer has essence to burn, they are literally unstoppable.


    "Flee now, or face the hand of justice!" The woman yelled, brandishing her blade.


    Who in the world actually says that in a fight?


    "How cute." The aerotheurge said, "I guess I''ll have to-"


    The problem with fighting two people and trying to talk smack is that you often lose track of one of the three of those things. In the case of our opponent, she lost track of me. In the time where my new friend had been speaking, I had also been muttering, but it was to the retrieval ring.


    Popping the cork on the potion I had finally decided to use, I downed a violent yellow concoction. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the world slowed to a crawl.


    A speed potion is a wonderful thing. It not only contains the venom of a ripper to overstimulate the nerve endings of the body, resulting in insanely fast twitch muscle reactions, it also contains the spinal fluid of a baneling, which feasts on human minds, incidentally making it ideal for increasing one''s perception of time.


    In other words, I was fast.


    Moving like wind, I swung high. The aerotheurge moved to block, but I flared the sympathetic power within my staff at the moment of contact. The sound of shattering steel was followed by the sickening sound of my weapon caving in my opponent''s ribcage. I moved to follow, but the woman was suddenly gone.


    I briefly thought of following, but then realized that my newfound ally was slumping to the ground. No time.


    "Get on!" I yelled, turning my back to her.


    "Whaaaaaaaat?" She asked in slow motion.


    I had swiped up my medkit in the time it took her to get out the first part of her word. Sighing, I wondered why some people were so slow, then proceeded to haul her up on my back. The potion would last for another twenty minutes if I was lucky. There were more than a few variables to consider, especially the fact that I was about to burn though all of my essence reserves just to give myself the strength to carry this monstrous woman.


    Seriously, how much can you eat.


    Oh wait, that might just be the armor.


    These thoughts and many more careened through my mind as I made a good impression of the wind whistling through the trees.

 A Great Work

    "You may set me down good alchemist." The woman on my back said.


    I was only half-listening, but caught the gist of her words.


    "Listen miss geomancer," I said, "There''s a spot over there where we can rest that is at least out of sight. If I stop to drop you right now, I''m going to collapse on the spot. The only reason I''m still moving is because I''m recirculating essence directly through my muscles."


    She didn''t fight me after that. Within a few minutes we had reached a sheltered cave. I took several moments to check for signs of monsters but found none. Of course, I may have just been mildly delirious.


    With the last of my strength, I knelt down so the woman could stand on her own feet, then fell flat on my face. Unsurprisingly, she settled down next to me. We laid there for several minutes, senses straining for the sound of pursuit.


    "I think we''re safe," I said, "For now. Unless I am mistaken, that was their only windsister. We''ll only be out of danger when we reach Whelden."


    "Who exactly are you?" She asked.


    I struggled into a sitting position and got a needle and thread from my bag, "Like I said, I''m an alchemist."


    "I believe that much," She said, leaning against a rock opposite me, "But no ordinary alchemist can match the speed of a windsister. So I ask again, who exactly are you."


    "Just a minute," I said, dousing the wound on my hand with alcohol.


    I''m rather proud to say that I only hissed. Next came my antibacterial ointment.


    "You don''t happen to know how to suture do you?" I asked.


    She shook her head, "A knight of the Holy Order is not trained in such arts."


    I grunted, "I figured as much. Give me a hand here, just hold the skin together."


    I expected her to be reluctant, though most adventurers can perform first aid, they are also relatively squeamish about anything beyond basic life support. She however, did not hesitate in compressing my wound together. I set to work.


    "Well, let me see, where should I start?" I said, wincing every time I drove the needle into my flesh, "You''re lucky you were unconscious while I was doing this for you."


    "I was cognizant of your actions," She noted.


    "Sorry." I said.


    "I will not accept an apology for saving my life." She said.


    "Right," I said, feeling mildly foolish, "Though you''re going to need a white mage to look at that. I did what I could, but the wound is more than likely to go septic in a couple days. I can try to handle that, but a gut wound is just about the worst thing that you could ask for in a fight."


    "I am aware." She said, "Now, please stop evading my question."


    "Sorry," I said, mentally hitting myself again for apologizing, "Well, first off, my name is Ethan Dyre. I''m a master alchemist traveling from Vern to attend the Collegia Alchemica."


    "I can sense that you have a great soul," She said, "What is your affinity?"


    "Wait," I said, "Did you burn essence to do that?"


    I was mildly put out by that. Here we were in a life or death situation, and she was burning through precious essence to find out useless information.


    She was quiet for a moment before lowering her head in my direction, "I apologize. I am not accustomed to our present situation. I have never lacked for the use of essence before."


    I nodded grimly as I began to tie off the sutures, "That doesn''t surprise me, you were carrying a phylactery capable of storing enough essence for me to make a round of minor elixirs. Who exactly are you anyway?"


    "I am Sister Arefina," She said, "I serve the goddess Orianna as one of her knights."


    "A paladin?" I asked.


    She quirked her head, "What manner of fighter is that?"


    I scratched my head, "Just something I heard of long ago. Though I guess it''s technically not true, a paladin would be a white mage and a fighter."


    She looked mildly horrified at that thought, "The church would never waste the talent of a white mage in such a matter. White mages are to be protected at all costs!"You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Yes, yes," I said absently, "As for my soul... well, you''re right, I do have a great soul. As for my affinity, well, I''m gray."


    She looked at me blankly, "What?"


    "A gray mage," I said, "You know, incapable of projecting essence into the world?"


    She eyed me with narrowed eyes, "I estimate my essence levels to be at one quarter of normal. I have never heard of a mage being able to transfer their essence to another, but as I said, I was cognizant when you were ministering to me."


    "That was a uh... experiment." I admitted, "I figured that you were going to die without a quick infusion. I can infuse items that I manufacture with essence, like my walking stick."


    She nodded, "That would explain its properties. Are you capable of forging weapons?"


    "I can make cups and horseshoes," I admitted, "Though good steel for a blade would be wasted on my talents as a blacksmith. Like I said, I''m an alchemist."


    She nodded thoughtfully, "But you are also a physiker and surgeon. Interesting."


    This was getting a little uncomfortable.


    "Can you walk?" I asked.


    In response, she rose to her feet, though she was clearly unsteady. I followed, though my limbs felt like jelly. A few words and I had withdrawn some food and water from my pack. Splitting it between the two of us, I began leading the way towards where I thought Whelden was.


    "You are concerned." Sister Arefina said, "You need not be. If our pursuers approach, I will protect you."


    "I hate to break this to you," I said, "But we''re both nearly spent. You have a wound that will probably keep you from flexing at the waist, and I''m only really good for fighting mundanes and wicks."


    "You moved with surprising agility, even before consuming that potion." She noted.


    "Like I said, I''m an alchemist. I''ve been successful enough to complete two rounds of speed elixirs." I explained, "That and my great soul makes me fast, but nowhere near the level of even a lark. Though I do have more endurance. I really just got lucky in out-thinking her."


    "And have you run out of potions?" She asked.


    I shook my head, "No, and I''ll use one again if necessary, but thirty minutes after imbibing it, I''m more than likely to die."


    "Give one to me," She said, holding out a hand, "I will protect you."


    "Who says things like that?!" I burst out in frustration.


    "Knights in the service of Orianna." She replied, still holding out her hand.


    I sighed, "I''m afraid I can''t do that either. I''ve already dosed you with a fortitude potion, a long lasting one. The only reason you''re still on your feet is because it won''t wear off for another four hours."


    She closed her hand and regarded me with interest, "I see. You are a surprisingly resourceful individual, Ethan Dyre."


    "Yeah well, adversity makes us better people, or something like that," I said, "I was brought into the world with a pretty short stick. I''ve had to work hard to get anywhere."


    We lapsed into silence. I could tell she was watching me, judging my actions and words in her head. I had never met another person with a great soul before that, and this one seemed to have been raised in a sheltered existence. I was used to dealing with middling souls or wicks, who had to cultivate their bodies and train hard at their control to make up for their intrinsic lack of power.


    Sister Arefina wasn''t a bad sort, but something about the way she talked rubbed me the wrong way. The worst part was, there was no real reason for me to feel resentment towards her. Maybe it was the fact that she had a useful affinity. I had done a lot of things with my ability, but the truth was, I would have traded it for a cardinal affinity at any time.


    Whelden came into sight within the next two hours, and we decided that we would risk the road. Traveling overland had helped keep us away from danger, but we were nearly at our limit right now. The road would speed our journey, and hopefully get us to the city before dark. Although Whelden itself sat on consecrated ground, everything south of it was still considered broken, and while monsters did not appear on consecrated ground, they did not necessarily respect its boundaries.


    Sister Arefina had an arm linked through mine and was driving me forward. The side-effects of the speed potion I had taken earlier were making themselves known with increasing intensity. Burning pain shot through my body at intervals, probably a side effect of my muscles committing mass suicide after being pushed too far. I vaguely noted that I would probably need to drink an elixir tonight. Not the best, but it would probably keep me from being crippled.


    The clopping of hooves behind us was the first indication that we were in trouble.


    "Get her!" I heard a familiar female voice call.


    I stumbled to my knees as Sister Arefina let go of me. I felt vaguely betrayed, but another part of me was glad that she was running. After all, it made no sense for both of us to die on this road. We really stood no chance against the two great souls behind us.


    "Go," my companion said, "I will hold them here for as long as I can. Tell my father... Tell him that I forgive him."


    The world had a perverse way of making my life more difficult, even when it was trying to give me a hand up.


    Closing my eyes, I ran a quick assessment of my body. I had plenty of essence, which was a true travesty. For all of that power, I was as useful as a wick when fighting other mages. I could take another potion-


    "Ethan Dyre!" Sister Arefina yelled, "On your feet and go! For love of the Lady!"


    I opened my eyes and struggled to my feet. Stepping unsteadily, I drew even with Sister Arefina.


    "Sorry," I whispered at her as she threw me a glance, "I don''t leave others to die."


    I saw her truly smile for the first time then. It was like watching the sun break through a roiling head of clouds. Her blade was held firm in her hands, and I could practically smell the earth magic rolling off of her. It was the only thing that was keeping her standing.


    I reached out and grabbed her hand, "Drop that, we''re going to need a great work to get out of this alive."


    Closing my eyes, I reached deep within myself. I am gray. I do not have the power to fight, I do not have the power to kill. Unlike other mages, I lack the power to destroy. My power lies in creation. I can build things, and I build them damn well.


    "This is probably going to hurt," I said, "but you need to cut loose with everything. Aim for their horses first."


    I built a bridge.


    In that moment, I could hear the song of the earth that Mike had described to me. It was as vast and solid as a mountain, yet nurturing like a mother''s kiss. Essence washed out of my soul in a wave as Sister Arefina greedily drank it in. The earth beneath us began to tremble.


    The last thing I remembered was seeing a wave of earthen lances tearing themselves from the ground in a concentric wave before us, and the screaming of horses.

 The Sisterhood of Light

    The next time I awoke I found myself in a real bed. I almost believed that Esturia had all been a dream. I felt light, as if I were floating on a cloud. That''s one of the side effects of being affected by a great work of white magic. It makes you feel like a million gold sovereigns.


    I opened my eyes and stared at the white ceiling above me. Looking around me, I saw a moderately sized room decorated with sunburst reliefs. Something tickled the back of my brain, and I remembered that this specific sign was associated with the goddess Orianna. I realized that I was probably in a church.


    Sitting up, I groaned for a moment, only to cut myself off as I realized that my body didn''t actually hurt, I had just expected it to. Moving my limbs experimentally, I confirmed this. I felt better than I had in over a decade.


    A soft knock was followed by a man in white robes entering. Noticing my state, a wide smile crept across his face.


    "Ah, you have awoken," The man said, "Welcome my son, to the temple of Orianna. My name is Brother Zhevons, I am on loan to my sister sect to minister to your needs."


    "I uh, I actually feel great." I admitted, "No needs whatsoever."


    The man nodded, "Sister Arefina was quite insistent that you receive healing immediately upon arrival. You have been bedridden for three days since then due to shock from having every drop of essence drained from your soul."


    The man reached out and plucked a circlet from my head. It was a phylactery, and by the color of its inserted gem, I could tell that it had been completely drained.


    "If you need any assistance dressing I am more than ready to help," The man said, "Otherwise, I have been directed to inform the mother upon your waking."


    "I think I can handle it," I said dryly, "Thank you Brother Zhevons."


    He bowed, "The pleasure has been mine my son. May you always walk in the light."


    He departed and I dressed. A brief search revealed my bag, which I quickly slung over my shoulder. Don''t get me wrong, I was grateful to the church for taking care of me, but I didn''t like to spend more time than necessary in places like this. The Alchemists'' guild already had hooks in me, that couldn''t be helped, but I would be dead before I let myself get roped into the extremely complex relationship between the church and state of Aramor.


    The clink of metal on stone warned me of the approach of the mother superior before I saw her. The figure that entered was not what I had imagined somebody with such a title would look like. A ponytail held back blond hair from a severe face, out of which two blue eyes regarded me sternly. Her clothes were not armor, but rather looked like the light linens and leather padding that one would wear beneath it.


    "Ethan of the house Dyre." She said, "On behalf of the Sisterhood of Light I welcome you to the temple of Orianna. I have been sent to escort you to a meeting with the Mother and Sister Arefina."


    Ah, then this wasn''t the mother. Another knight perhaps?


    "Of course," I said, hesitating, "Although if I could just go..."


    She shook her head, "The Mother would be displeased if she did not have the chance to converse with you personally."


    The way she said the word ''displeased'' brought images of men being drawn and quartered to mind.


    "Lead the way then sister!" I chuckled.


    She nodded sternly and led me through the wide halls of the temple. More white with gold trim greeted my eyes. I briefly wondered how many years'' worth of alchemical supplies I could buy with the stuff merely displayed on the walls. The woman marched me to another door and knocked. The oak door swung open smoothly, revealing none other than Sister Arefina.


    "Ethan." She said, a smile on her face, "Please enter."


    I stepped inside and was almost leveled by the sight of a carbon copy of Sister Arefina sitting behind the desk.


    "Maternal aunt I''m afraid." The woman, most likely the mother superior, said wryly.


    I sunk into an offered chair and spent several moments looking between the two.


    "This is uncanny." I said.


    The mother superior chuckled, "I''m afraid that''s a side effect of heritage, and the influence of being a geomancer with a great soul."


    "Oh." I said, "I guess I haven''t run into a lot of great souls."


    "Besides yourself." The mother superior pointed out, "Though I don''t suppose a gray mage spends a lot of time looking at other gray mages. They are rather... scarce."


    "How may I serve you mother?" I asked, hoping that this interview would end quickly so I could get out.


    The woman raised an eyebrow at me, "Surely you don''t think I have brought you here on a matter of employment. The reverse should be true. I wanted to ask how the Sisterhood of Light could assist you."


    "Well," I said, "I would really like to get going. I have a long road ahead, and I am anxious to get to my destination."


    A mild look of irritation crossed the woman''s face, and I realized that spurning the hospitality of the church might be as bad as getting tangled in their politics.


    "That is..." I searched for words.


    "Ethan is a master alchemist," Arefina slipped into the conversation smoothly, "I am afraid I may have put him behind schedule for arriving at the Collegia Alchemica due to our little... detour."


    The mother superior appeared appeased by that, "I understand. Nevertheless, the Sisterhood has a debt to pay. Great souls are not common, and saving the life of one is no small feat. We would lose favor in the sight of the goddess if we were to neglect our duty to those who have done right by us."


    "To be honest mother," I said, "Sister Arefina did as much to save my life as I did to save hers."


    The mother superior looked to Sister Arefina.


    At this, Sister Arefina shook her head, "Master Dyre is overemphasizing my role in the matter. Though I did assist, his was the leading role in our survival."


    The mother superior nodded, "Indeed. The rubble you threw up on the southern road is going to be an issue for some weeks."If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Sister Arefina looked down, her cheeks flushed at the comment.


    "However," The mother superior continued, "killing two great souls who had turned to banditry and assassination was a worthy tradeoff."


    "Mother," Sister Arefina said, "If I could suggest..."


    "Go on." The mother superior said.


    "Ethan is a stranger in this land," Sister Arefina said, "It would not do for him to be without a guide on his journey. I would formally request that the Sisterhood lend him a knight-sister on his journey northwards."


    The mother superior nodded thoughtfully, "I believe I have just the person in mind. Very well, is this acceptable to you Ethan Dyre?"


    I nodded enthusiastically, "Of course mother."


    I was more than glad to get away from this place, even if it meant travelling with one of the sisters.


    "Very well," The mother superior said, "Tylee Arefina, you are hereby detached from service to the Whelden temple. Your father has requested that you be relocated to Aramor for family matters, and I have a mind to oblige him. You are to accompany master alchemist Dyre to the Collegia Alchemica, ensuring his safety in all things, then you are to report to the temple of Orianna there for further instructions."


    Glancing over at Sister Arefina, I saw that her mouth was hanging down as far as mine. Glancing back at the mother superior, I saw the glint of smile behind her eyes. Sister Arefina looked like she wanted to argue, but a sharp look from the mother superior caused her to lower her eyes.


    "You will depart tomorrow morning," The mother continued, "Be sure to visit the waters of life. Ethan Dyre may accompany you."


    "Mother!" Sister Arefina exclaimed, shock in her voice, "The waters are sacred!"


    "The waters exist for the purpose of replenishing the essence of those in the service of Orianna." The mother replied, "Need I set you a penance?"


    Arefina lowered her eyes again and murmured a comment in the negative.


    "You are dismissed," The mother said, "May you always walk in the light."


    Without further words, Sister Arefina and I were ejected from the room.


    "Come with me," Sister Arefina said.


    "Of course, Sister Arefina." I said.


    She paused and turned to me, "My friends call me Tylee."


    I hesitated, then opened my mouth, "So, Tylee?"


    She nodded with satisfaction and executed a perfect about face. I was glad for my long legs, as her quick stride would have outpaced a person shorter than I. I briefly wondered if she had hoped to leave me behind. Despite her profession of friendship, I believed that Tylee may have had more than a few reservations about me.


    We were admitted into a room which held a pool that practically reeked of essence. The pool itself was an elevated basin almost three meters long and one meter wide. Several sisters were gathered around it, their hands immersed in the liquid as they drew essence into their bodies.


    I received several looks of askance, but nobody spoke directly to us. Instead, any sisters not already drawing essence were lined up in front of an image of Orianna. They would kneel before it in turns, eyes closed in the matter of prayer, their swords placed tip first against the floor or held perpendicular to their bodies as they communed with their goddess.


    "I don''t really pray that much." I noted.


    The currently kneeling sister stood up and moved to the pool, where she immersed her hands.


    "It is custom," Tylee told me, "I would advise you to do so. If you cannot bring yourself to thank the goddess for the gift you are about to receive, then at least observe the form so as not to offend my sisters."


    "What about you?" I asked.


    She regarded me, "I already know that you serve the goddess."


    "What makes you say that?" I asked.


    She smiled softly and began speaking, "When hope is lost and death draws near, when darkness falls and friends are dear, who shall stand and face her foes? The pure in heart, the goddess knows."


    "That sounds like a scripture." I said, "Or maybe just a poem."


    She nodded.


    "I could just be really stubborn." I pointed out.


    Tylee turned fully to face me, her voice low, "A stubborn man will break when the endless tragedies of life beset him. A stubborn man would have found a way to save himself. You stood with me despite the cost. Your lips do not serve the goddess, but your hands do. I hope someday that you too realize this."


    She turned and drew her sword and touched the point to the stone of the floor. Kneeling, she began to offer her own supplications. When she arose, she gestured for me to do likewise. I sighed and brought my staff to bear, then knelt before the image of the cloth robed woman. I closed my eyes, fully intending on waiting a few moments, then rising.


    ''Greetings outlander,'' A voice spoke in my head.


    My eyes flew open. Well, they tried to. I found my body completely paralyzed.


    ''Orianna?'' I asked.


    A gentleness washed through my body, and I realized that I was speaking to something far beyond my ken.


    ''Do you seek purpose?'' She asked.


    ''I... yes.'' I thought, mildly horrified by my own candor, ''All my life.''


    ''Then arise my champion. Protect my daughter.'' Orianna spoke with a voice like searing light.


    ''How?'' I asked.


    A moment of clarity, like the impression left after a lightning strike. I felt something below my right eye, then a wave of comfort.


    White magic.


    ''Go,'' The voice of Orianna said, ''You have been faithful to the call in twilight, now walk in my light.''


    My eyes fluttered open. I rose to my feet unsteadily, looking over at Tylee, who had been waiting for me.


    "You could have sold it a little better," She whispered, "You were only there for a few moments."


    "It felt longer," I admitted, "Just out of curiosity, what is the relationship between the Sisterhood of Light and Orianna?"


    "She is the mother of all living," Tylee said, "Therefore, we are her daughters."


    "That''s what I thought you would say." I said, "Let''s prepare."


    Despite having burned through all of my essence, I required considerably less time with my hands immersed in the living waters than Tylee did. Though for appearance''s sake, I remained until she showed signs of being ready to depart.


    Tylee left me outside the room with a swish of gold-trimmed white robes, citing her need to prepare her armor and weapons for travel. Watching her go, I realized that she moved with a solid kind of grace. Although Tylee had been trained as a geomancer, she had not neglected the arts of grace. I absently patted my satchel, which was stocked with several rounds of the best strength and speed enhancing elixirs which I could create.


    I was due for one of each, especially considering the fact that I had just burned through a significant chunk of my speed potential by quaffing a level two speed potion.


    Left to my own devices, I decided to wander. The halls of the temple were more spacious than anything I had seen in Esturia so far. I lost myself in my wanderings, my staff tapping out a steady beat in time with the musings drifting through my mind. It was some time before I came to what I assumed was a sort of chapel. I would later find that there were in fact five of these, four of which depicted her as harnessing one of the cardinal elements.


    The last, and the one that I visited, was devoted to her personal patronage of practitioners of white magic. The room had quiet solemnity, and I was drawn to the statue of the goddess which lay in the center of the circular rows of benches.


    The statue depicted a woman of immense beauty. As a fellow craftsman, I couldn''t but help admire the mason''s work. She was worked in pure, white marble, and the robe in which she was dressed was realistic enough that I almost thought it would start billowing in the wind along with the hair which flowed down her back.


    "Did you bring me here?" I asked, looking up into the gentle stone face.


    No answer.


    "You were right," I said to the woman, "I never realized it in my previous life, but I wasted years in a desperate attempt to find some kind of purpose. For something that would be significant enough that I would get off my worthless backside and put in some effort."


    "I thought I had found it in Vern," I said, "I was happy there you know? It was nothing more than a glorified essence harvesting operation, but it was a place that I could call home. It''s funny, the first place that I felt like I made a difference, was also the first place to actually push me out."


    I hung my head down.


    "How can I protect Tylee?" I asked, "Even with the gift of white magic, there''s nothing special about me. My great soul is almost useless for the purpose of defending others. Gray magic is not intrinsically protective, and white magic, what I know of it, is not much better. Don''t you have anyone better to send?"


    ''I have you...'' A quiet voice whispered through my mind.


    I gripped my staff, "And a fat lot of good that will do anyone. As I am, Tylee would spend more of her time protecting me, rather than the other way around. What am I supposed to do?"


    Silence.


    I departed from the presence of the goddess, it seemed that I was to receive no further divine direction. I decided that I would indulge myself and be bitter about the whole situation. Tomorrow would be early enough for me to start contemplating how exactly I could undertake the herculean task the goddess had laid upon me.


    One thing was for certain. Somebody wanted Tylee Arefin dead. If I was going to protect her, I would need more than a bag of parlor tricks.

 Aramor, Jewel of the Kingdom

    Tylee and I set out early in the morning the next day. I felt a small pang of remorse at not being able to fully explore Whelden, or even make a perfunctory visit to the southern offices of the Alchemists'' guild. Of course, with my small amount of notoriety in that place, it was probably for the best. I would have probably been caught up in some kind of intrigue within that office.


    Instead, I was caught trying to keep up with a great earth soul on foot. Horses were a luxury afforded only to the very wealthy who were passing through. This far south there was still a chance of the animals wandering into unconsecrated land and being subject to the Awakening. A Felsteed was a dangerous creature, and one which Whelden could ill-afford to have wandering around.


    Of the four cardinal elementalists, a geomancer is the hardiest. This extends not only into the arena of resisting physical damage, but also in a truly staggering level of endurance. I was no slouch myself, having trained my body physically, and having completed two rounds of strength enhancing elixirs, but at this point I began to realize the true gap between myself and my companion.


    "Do you ever get tired?" I asked, my breath coming in short gasps.


    Tylee regarded me seriously, "Would you like me to carry you."


    I jumped back, "No, that''s unnecessary."


    She tilted her head quizzically at me, "I am not unaccustomed to caring for those placed in my charge Master Dyre. You do not need to worry about inconveniencing me."


    Yeah, but the real problem would be the sheer embarrassment if we came upon anybody. She was already weighed down by a steel breastplate, adding a lanky alchemist to her load would have made us appear more than comical. Plus, the idea of Tylee carrying me left distinctly uncomfortable.


    "It''s not that," I said, "You see, I''m working on my third round of a level two strengthening elixir. If I don''t push my body to its limits, the effects will be drastically reduced."


    Tylee nodded somberly, "Of course. Though I must ask how you were able to afford such a grade of elixir."


    I grinned, "I made them myself."


    Her eyes widened, "How long have you been an alchemist?"


    "Two years." I responded.


    Her eyes narrowed, "I hope that you are not making a fool of me."


    I raised my hands, "Of course not. I''m just very good at what I do."


    "You do realize that most alchemists train for five years before even thinking about making their first elixir, right?" She asked.


    "I was an..." I began.


    I wasn''t sure how work in a hospital lab would translate over to this world, so I decided on the closest thing I could think of.


    "Herbalist." I lied, "I practiced with non-magical herbs and substances long before I became an alchemist."


    She nodded thoughtfully, "I see."


    "The principles are mostly the same," I continued, "You have to measure things exactly, then know the order of placing them. Essence is something new, but I just treat that like another ingredient that needs to be added periodically rather than all at once."


    Of course, I didn''t really need to think about adding essence, but that was a secret that I intended to tell no one. I didn''t want to become somebody''s golden goose. People have a nasty habit of cooking those up and eating them.


    As we continued our march, I decided to turn the questions towards Tylee, rather than risk revealing more about myself.


    "So," I said, "What drew you to the Sisterhood of Light?"


    She was silent for many moments. Just when I feared that she would ignore the question completely, she turned her golden eyes towards me.


    "I am the fourth child of Duke Etrasz Arefina," She said, "He inherited the title from my mother, Amelie Arefina, when she passed. My elder sisters stand in succession before me. When I turned twelve I was given a choice. I could either begin my training and eventually challenge my sisters for supremacy of the house, I could join the military as a geomancer, or I could devote my life to the goddess Orianna."


    "Oh." I said, "Wait... you''re the daughter of a duke?"


    "Duchess," She corrected, "And yes."


    "Shouldn''t I call you ''My Lady'' or something?" I asked, suddenly worried about having offended a member of the nobility.


    Vern was ruled from afar by a baron, though the church, through Father Lyorcha, had more sway in the town itself. I had no experience with the nobility of Esturia, but from what I remembered of the history of my old home, it was never good to get on the bad side of nobility.


    "I forsook all other oaths to serve the goddess," Tylee said, "If I had chosen the military, then I would have had to take certain oaths to the first lady, which would have overridden my own familial oaths. My sisters have nothing to fear from me in terms of their inheritance."


    "Then why would you father want you near?" I asked, "That''s part of the reason why you are even escorting me."


    She looked at me carefully, "You are awfully curious for a simple alchemist Ethan Dyre. Are you perhaps intending on marrying a baroness for a title someday?"


    I stumbled slightly, but managed to keep my footing, "Honestly Tylee, I would rather stab myself in the foot than get involved in Esturian politics."


    She tilted her head, "Yet you ask questions of a clearly political nature. You are a walking contradiction."


    "Well," I said, shrugging, "If it''s about you, then I am interested."


    She fell quiet at that. Glancing over, I saw that she was examining the ground rather more closely than it deserved. From the way she refused to look at me, I could tell that I had put my foot in my mouth. Thinking quickly, I remembered a proverb from... somewhere.


    "Where I come from," I said, "There is an old proverb about saving someone''s life. Once you have done so, you become responsible for them. I know it might seem forward, but I am concerned about you Sister Arefina."


    "You need not concern yourself with me," She muttered, "I am a great soul, and I am supported by my sisters in all things."


    I glanced around, "Funny, I don''t see your sisters here right now. Just me."


    She turned a glare on me, "You presume too much, alchemist."


    I met her glare for glare, "Is that the reason why none of the sisters spoke with you while we were at the waters of life? I noticed many of them chatting, but the area around us was unnaturally quiet. Is that why you have been accompanying adventurers on patrols around Whelden rather than the Sisterhood?"


    She glared for another moment before dropping her eyes.


    "I might be nothing more than a commoner," I pointed out, "But I have eyes. Something is weird about this entire situation. You were almost killed a few days ago, and I don''t believe for a moment that it was just the act of two rogue great souls turned to banditry. You were targeted."


    She grew quiet again, and I let the silence lay. We traveled for the rest of the day without speaking more than a few words. When we finally stopped for the night at a small stone structure along the road meant for travelers, Tylee finally spoke to me again.


    "My eldest sister was assassinated last month," She said, looking into the small fire that I had started in the rough hearth.


    I remained quiet. The reason why the nobility of Aramor are nobility is because, with few exceptions, they are all great souls. At least all of those who are in the succession of the house leadership.


    "My brother," She said, "A middling soul and adventurer, was killed under mysterious circumstances almost a year ago while adventuring in the west."


    "Only my second sister remains alive," She said, "though she is afflicted by a curse which the Church''s white mages cannot find a remedy to. I am being called home because I will probably be released from my oaths to the Sisterhood so that I may take up my place as daughter-heir of house Arefina."


    I felt a sinking sensation in my gut, "So you were targeted."


    She nodded, "If not for your intervention, the house of Arefina would almost certainly been called up for dissolution right now. As it stands, I will be called upon to lay aside my oaths to Orianna in order to maintain the honor of my house."


    I stared at her for long moments before muttering a word to my recall ring. Another violent yellow potion appeared in my hand. Without words, I proffered it to her.


    "What is this?" She asked, taking it from me.


    "It''s a level two speed potion," I responded, "Best I could make with the materials I could find in Vern. If we get attacked again, it should give you about twenty-two minutes of speed usually reserved for a Lark."


    She nodded quietly, tucking the vial into a bandolier that she probably wore for the purpose of carrying such potions. Though she was adorned with none right now.


    "May I see your sword?" I asked.


    She hesitated, then handed it to me. I took the blade and removed a small whetstone from my pack. I felt mildly self-conscious as she watched me go through the motions of sharpening and oiling the blade. While I cannot forge a blade, I found early on that if I personally maintained a weapon, I could imbue it with the strengthening properties of my magic, albeit to a lesser extent than the power I had woven into my staff.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    I felt a trickle of essence flow from my fingers as I carried out the work. Focusing, I pushed my will into the work, bidding the blade to become sharper and harder. In ten minutes I was done. Sheathing the weapon, I handed it back to Tylee.


    "It''s not much," I said, "But it should be sharper and more resilient than any other blade. That is about all I can do right now. I''m afraid that my skills as an enchanter are lacking. I don''t know any inscriptions used for weapons."


    Tylee quietly drew the blade and tested my words. Whatever she saw in it seemed to satisfy her, because she replaced the weapon and smiled at me.


    "I thank you friend Ethan." She said, giving a slight bow from her seated position, "It feels as if the weapon is singing when I hold it. I will treasure it."


    I held up my hands, "It''s just temporary. The power should hold for the next couple days. I will re-empower it as we travel."


    She nodded, "I understand. It is still a gift that I accept gratefully. I also... Thank you."


    I felt like she had wanted to say more. Possibly about her family. I decided to let the matter lie. Tylee offered to take the first watch, I let her.


    The next morning found us on the road early. There is a trick to sleeping as a mage. If you meditate for thirty minutes before resting and set your essence to circulating in a certain way, you can get by with less sleep than the average person. At my level of control, I was capable of turning five hours into a full eight. Tylee could turn three into seven, just about the limit of that particular trick. It was something even a wick could accomplish, which made even their miniscule talent useful.


    Tylee''s recent admission filled me with more than a little paranoia. The mother superior of the Whelden temple had been shrewd in offering Tylee as an escort for me. She had known that using a great soul such as Tylee for something as simple as escort duty for a master alchemist would be overkill, which would have turned many eyes away from our travel. In addition, she had probably bet on the fact that I would be able to ensure Tylee''s survival if the worst should happen.


    In a way, I was the one escorting Tylee, rather than the other way around. I can''t say that I was happy about this turn of events.


    By the third day my paranoia had faded, and I had even begun to read a book on simple inscription which I had acquired for two gold sovereigns at a store in Whelden. While it contained little of use for practical enchanting, there were some theories and basic exercises which I took to practicing at night.


    "What is that?" Tylee asked, pointing at the pencil I was holding.


    I held up the object, "A pencil."


    "A what?" She asked.


    "It''s a type of rock," I explained, "Graphite, you can find it in some of the areas around Vern. It''s kind of like charcoal in that it rubs itself away."


    I demonstrated the crude design of my writing implement. I had drawn inspiration from a memory of extendable crayons and spent time with the local blacksmith to draw steel, then coil it so that it could be used to extend the graphite out of the tube. I had been rather proud of my invention, especially because it meant that I didn''t have to work with an inkpot and quill whenever I needed to make quick notes.


    I still used ink for anything I wanted permanent, like recipes in my grimoire. But the pencil was especially useful when I started practicing the fine calligraphy necessary for a master inscriber. Maybe I could find someone to help me invent the ballpoint pen when I arrived in Aramor.


    "Interesting," She said, regarding it, "May I try?"


    I shrugged and handed it over, though my heart skipped a beat as she took it from my hands. While I was sure that Tylee could be as gentle as a lamb, the woman was a geomancer and a knight. She could probably crush the little tube between her thumb and forefinger with less than a thought.


    Instead of destroying my precious creation, she took a small piece of paper from her own pack and began writing. A small gasp of wonder escaped her lips, mildly ruined by her frown as she touched and smudged the written words.


    "It''s not perfect," I explained, "After a number of years the writing will eventually fade into illegibility just like a charcoal imprint, but it is useful for short notes or practice."


    She held up the pencil and regarded it carefully, "I believe that you have misled me Master Dyre. You had told me that you were merely an alchemist. You did not inform me that you were also an artificer."


    I shrugged, feeling vaguely uncomfortable, "I have a very broad, but shallow depth of knowledge in quite a few fields my lady."


    She shot me a look, "I would prefer if you refrained from using such a title with me."


    "I''m going to have to get used to it," I suggested, "After all, we both know what is going to happen when we arrive at Aramor."


    "What may happen," She corrected me, "And afterwards... I doubt that we will see each other."


    I raised an eyebrow, "Is that what you really want?"


    She handed the pencil back, "It will be dangerous for you to be even loosely associated with my family at this time Master Dyre. I would not wish to bring injury to your rising career. Having spent time with you, I believe that you will one day be one of the great alchemical masters. It would be a pity if your life was cut short due to an... accident."


    "Don''t you think that I should get a say in the matter?" I asked, "For your sake?"


    I mentally hit myself. For some reason, I had decided to become a bleeding heart for this temple mage. I had sworn up and down to myself that I would avoid becoming embroiled in the politics of this world, yet now I was professing my devotion to somebody who was about to step into the very heart of that maelstrom.


    But a goddess had asked it of me, and it gave me the one thing I never had. Purpose. I hardened my resolve and fixed her with a hard look.


    "Would you become my bondsman?" She asked, weighing me carefully with her eyes.


    Hell no.


    I raised my hands defensively, "I was thinking more along the lines of a friend that you can call on in need."


    She regarded me, then turned away to prepare her bedding. She didn''t speak to me again until morning, and the topic didn''t come up.


    On the eve of our fifth day the capital of Aramor, aptly named Aramor, came into sight. It must be very confusing for the citizens of the city to sort out whether a census was speaking of them, or the citizenship as a whole.


    The first thing I noticed about Aramor was the castle around which the city had grown. The fortress was like something out of a fairy tale, with sweeping battlements and towers that threatened to touch the clouds. In truth, it looked alien in the midst of the much less impressive city which was built around it.


    "Castle Aramor," Tylee said, disrupting my train of thought, "Built before the last days, when Esturia was shattered, giving birth to the Broken Lands."


    I turned to stare at her, "How old is that thing?"


    "It has stood for more than a thousand years," She replied, "And will most likely stand for five more centuries. The enchantments laid upon it during construction are such that the stone itself does not show weathering even now."


    I turned back to the city, staring in awe at this artifact of a fallen age. There must have been an aquifer inside of the mountain, as there was a sweeping aqueduct which arced lazily through the castle''s structure, eventually ending at the base of the thing, where it probably fed into a cistern.


    The structure itself was constructed of stone in soft, cream colored hues, that reflected a gentle light. Seven towers were capped with what I assumed were shingles, dyed in a deep cobalt. Stained glass winked cheerily at me from almost every window. This looked more like a work of art, though I supposed it would serve as a fortress in a pinch.


    "Castle Aramor is the reason why humanity still exists in the North." Tylee explained, "When the world was broken during the Time of Calamity, the noble house of Aramor took in tens of thousands of refugees. This bastion threw back the Awakened and Risen hordes, holding this point and protecting the Northern lands. This was the first land to be consecrated, and some say that it was by the hand of Orianna herself."


    "More than half of the noble houses, my own included, can trace their lineage back to Lady Rosalia Aramor, First Lady of the kingdom." Tylee said, a hint of reverence in her voice, "House Arefina is descended from one of her seven daughters when she split the Northern lands among them and took her place as the First Lady."


    "Every First Lady since then has foresworn her familial ties to serve the kingdom to its fullest." She concluded, turning to face me, "You do well to show awe in the presence of this place friend Ethan. If there is any city on the continent of Esturia that may be considered holy, it is this edifice."


    The city may have been holy, but the guards were still out for their entrance fees. I obligingly handed over three coppers for myself, though Tylee merely showed them the badge of her office and was granted entry.


    We made our way to the temple of Orianna and entered. The interior here was similar to that of the one found in Whelden, all white with gold trim, although the sweeping cathedral chamber directly before us with a massive statute of the goddess was new.


    A woman with dark hair and faded blue eyes approached us, "Sister, how may I assist you?"


    Tylee stood at attention, "Tylee Arefin, Knight of the Sisterhood of Light, reporting as ordered for transfer to the temple of Aramor."


    The woman smiled lightly, "I know you are of the militant sisters, but there is no need for such rigid formality. Do you have any wounds that need tending?"


    As she spoke, I felt the telltale whisper of white magic boiling inside of her. This sister was a white mage, and from the way she eagerly offered her gifts and the washed-out color of her eyes, likely two steps away from burnout due to magical addiction.


    I stepped forward quickly and rested a hand on the mage''s arm, pushing it down, "We have not sustained any injuries sister. Please reserve your magic for the assistance of others."


    Something akin to anger flashed through her eyes and she pulled away from me. I let her go and felt a strong hand fall on my own shoulder.


    "This is Master Dyre," Tylee introduced me, "Master alchemist and friend of the Sisterhood. The mother superior of the order directed me to seek out priestess Mali, could you direct us to her?"


    The woman gave us directions, along with a spiteful glance for me, before sending us on our way. As we walked, Tylee addressed me.


    "It was unwise to lay hands on a white mage friend Ethan." She said, "There are strict penalties for doing so. If I had not intervened you may have found yourself in a cell for the night."


    "But I used to touch Father Lyorcha all the time," I protested, "I''ve treated him for several ailments!"


    "This is not Vern, and you would do well to remember it," Tylee replied.


    "That sister needs some time off," I said, changing the angle of my attack, "She''s about ready to succumb and become a babbler."


    Tylee sighed, "She had probably already been ordered to do so. It is not unlikely that she is lurking around the cathedral in the hopes of running into someone who is in need of healing. All magic is inherently addictive, but white magic is much worse. I am told that touching it is like embracing the goddess herself."


    I shivered, "So she''s just going to..."


    Tylee nodded wearily, "It happens to many white mages with middling souls. The access they have to refined essence is far above what they could usually handle. At first, they tell themselves that they are doing it to help others. Slowly, it becomes more about just having the feel of magic flowing through them."


    "Someone should stop them." I growled.


    "It has been tried," Tylee told me, "If locked in isolation, they harm and then heal themselves repeatedly until they either succumb to the addiction completely or they go too far with the harming. The church trains its healers in discipline above all things, but sometimes even that isn''t enough."


    We arrived at Priestess Mali''s office, where Tylee gives a confident knock.


    "Enter." Came a voice.


    Upon entry we are greeted by a woman with brown hair, and green eyes that were a shade too light. Another white mage then.


    "Ah," She said, "You must be Sister Arefina and Master Dyre. Please, sit."


    She shuffled through some paperwork, then pulled a sheet from the pile and inspected it briefly before looking up at us.


    "Quite a tale," She said, "Though when great souls are involved, the tales are usually at least interesting. Sister Arefina, you understand why you were sent here?"


    Tylee nodded, then turned to me, "Before I am released, I would like to perform a rite for my... friend."


    The priestess looked at us with calculating eyes, but shrugged, "As you wish daughter."


    Tylee stood and bade me rise with her. When he stood facing each other, she lightly tapped her right foot, then with two fingers, touched the remaining three outflow tracks of the other three cardinal elements. Finally, she held her fingers under her right eye while speaking.


    "Ethan Dyre," She said, "In my capacity as a Knight-Sister of the Sisterhood of Light and acting with permission of the mother superior of that order, I hereby name you a friend of the sisterhood. May you always walk in the light, and may the warm embrace of the mother of all living shelter you in your darkest hours."


    Falling silent, she moved the same fingers to my forehead over the inflow track there. I half expected to feel the flow of magic until I remembered that Tylee was no gray mage. Although I did wonder if she put her foot against my head...


    I was brought out of my musings as Tylee placed a small steel chain with the sunburst of her order attached to it in my hand.


    "This has been attuned to you," She said, the formality of her tone fading, "If you show it to any of the sisterhood, they will do their utmost to assist you. We do not treat out debts lightly."


    I clasped the necklace, feeling a strange prickling in my eyes, "Thank you, Sister."


    She smiled, "I am glad that you were able to call me that one last time. Now go. I will seek you out in time."


    I nodded, giving an awkward bow, "As you wish Sister."


    And with that, Sister Arefina disappeared from my life. The next time I would see Tylee would be in her capacity as Lady Arefina, daughter-heir of the house of Arefina. For now, I had a lot to learn, and a sudden, burning desire to do so.

 City Living

    The study of alchemy is a relatively new field. Until the land of Esturia was broken, there was no inherent magic in the world around us, just the power of the four cardinal elements, along with black and white magic, which were all harnessed by the will of humans. Scholars argue about the cause of the breaking, but the truth is that nobody knows.


    With the breaking came the study of alchemy, a way to turn the dangerously altered material of the Broken Lands into something useful to humans. The problem is, the first and second men who decided to start compounding the organs of dead monsters into beverages had a huge disagreement. That disagreement has been passed down to all of their followers until this day.


    How do I know this? It is because alchemy, much like academia in my world, is full of contradictory opinions, false claims, and outright mud-slinging. It''s good to know that humans don''t change when traveling between worlds.


    I had my face planted on a copy of Binzhamin''s alchemy basics. The text was faded and tended to curl at the edges due to repeated use by various students throughout its lifetime. It was also full of so many incorrect ''truths'' of alchemy that I was ready to hurl it out the window.


    "Does anybody on this world test their hypotheses before writing them down as facts?" I wondered aloud.


    Alchemico Byar, the head of the class on theoretical alchemy, had assigned this reading a month before class even started. I was terribly afraid of what his idea of ''theory'' would be if he were assigning this junk to us.


    Closing the book, I boldly decided to stop reading it. I was only half way through, and I could literally feel all of the things I had learned started to melt and drain straight out of my ear. I was not going to oblige my future teacher by wasting my time. If I needed half-formed, irrelevant opinions on the subject I was perfectly capable of making them myself.


    I had been hitting the books for two entire weeks after delivering my letter of recommendation and the note of mark from Laurel to a rather bored looking clerk at the administration building. He had dryly informed me when classes would begin and had been almost offended that I had asked him for a pass to visit the library. It seemed that few of my peers were visiting the library this early.


    Their loss I guess.


    I had found a small cupboard cleverly disguised as a room above the shop of an herbalist, who had been impressed enough by my knowledge of her herbs to allow me to stay there for a modest sum and a promise that I would make sure to keep her plants watered. I liked plants, they didn''t talk back all that much, and even when you cut them down, they just grew right back.


    I put back the font of lies masquerading as an academic book and went back to browsing the shelves on theoretical alchemy. If I was going to be here, I was going to find something that was actually worth reading. I made my first great find when I pulled down a dusty old tome. Unlike every other book on the subject, the author of this particular book had failed to put his name in flowing script across the front. It simply read:


    Practical Alchemy: Don''t eat poisonous monsters without cooking them first.


    I cracked the spine as a joke, but knew that I had found something special when the author mentioned that a large enough dose of any curative would protect a person from certain death, albeit without countering the individual effects of monster poison.


    Even Laurel, who I considered quite a skilled alchemist, had not known this little tidbit. Whoever had written this book had apparently discovered this and many other things that I had only found through trial and error. I silently blessed the author as I worked through its pages, taking extensive notes of my own.


    As the end of the day approached, I stumbled out of the now darkening recesses of the alchemy section of the library. It seemed that alchemists had been relegated to the darkest, dankest corner of the library. I was glad for the essence lantern which I kept with me, its soft light was likely the only thing keeping me from a severe loss of vision.


    "Good evening Master Dyre," The librarian said.


    I jumped, "Master Norry!"


    The middle-aged man smiled at me, his white streaked black hair held back in a ponytail.


    "I hope that you found everything to your liking today." He continued, toting a stack of books past me towards the magical theory section, "It''s nice to have some young blood in here once in a while."


    How are you so sneaky while carrying a stack of books old man!?


    "Y-yes sir!" I said, standing at attention, "My time here has been enlightening!"


    "Good, good," He said, "Will I see you tomorrow?"


    He was still walking away, so I jogged to catch up with him as he began shelving books according to some arcane secret to which I was not privy.


    "Afraid not," I said, "I have to start brewing something if I want to be able to eat for the rest of the semester."


    He nodded, then regarded me carefully, "You know, we have need of a junior clerk. If you are looking to make some money."


    "I appreciate the offer," I said, holding up a hand, "But I am a master alchemist."


    He nodded somberly, "Understood, although you should know that even master alchemists can struggle here in Aramor. I''ve seen more than a few promising students leave because of financial difficulties."


    I grinned, "Don''t worry about me sir, I''m a medical alchemist. Nobody makes the things that I do!"


    His eyebrows quirked in interest, "Haven''t had any trouble from the church about that have you?"


    I shook my head, "My remedies fill a niche that white magic either cannot, or is too expensive to make available to the general public."


    "Hmmm, interesting." He said, "You wouldn''t happen to have anything for the creaks would you?"


    "May I see your hands?" I asked.


    I touched them and closed my eyes, visualizing the power of magic as I muttered a spell in an archaic language:


    Stars above and earth below


    Hear my words and heed my call


    Two in body, one in mind


    Malady and truth to find


    A whisper of magic flowed between us, carried by the words of the spell and my intent. I felt the swelling and pain in Master Norry''s body flow through my own in an instant, leaving an imprint in my mind of the damage.


    Several days after my encounter with the goddess Orianna, I had picked up a book on practical magic and tried one of the spells in it. The results had been... spectacular. At least to me. Practical magic is infinitely more rigid than the fluid power of the cardinal elements. It also does a lot of things that a cardinal mage cannot. Like giving me an intimate knowledge of the damage working its way through Master Norry''s body in exchange for feeling the pain that he felt.


    I rummaged through my bag, whispering the name of the medicine I wanted and withdrawing it. Arthritis was just as common on Esturia as it was in my world, and it was one of the first things I had worked on creating a treatment for. While white magic could certainly fix the problem, only the nobility could afford that kind of luxury. My own recent experience with white magic led me to believe that the price of such restorative procedures was elevated more in the interests of sparing the cost in white mages, rather than the price of essence.


    Removing the vial, I handed it to him, "This should do the trick. Add a drop of this to a bowl of water as hot as you can stand and soak your hands for ten minutes for the next ten days. You can do it with a warm compress if it''s a knee or shoulder, though you''ll have to do it for about twenty days for that."


    He regarded that vial warily, "How much does this cost?"


    "I generally charge five silvers for a dose like this," I said, "But you can have it on the house. Just let your friends know when you can move your fingers again without pain. The treatment is good for about a year, so come find me when things start to hurt again."


    He stared at it, then at me, "Well, if it works, I certainly will."


    I left him to it and headed home. Tanna''s herbs and remedies was a ten minute walk from the collegium grounds, and its proprietor was a wick geomancer with a green thumb talent. She could urge a seed to sprout in half its normal time, which turned out to be extremely useful when peddling herbs.


    Tanna was in the shop when I entered and she tossed me a cheery wave as I headed up to the second level where I lived in her spare broom closet. I returned her gesture with a two fingered salute and paced my way up the stairs.


    "Master Dyre!" Came a booming voice.


    I turned towards the owner of the voice. Before me stood the obscenely wide frame of Derrick, Tanna''s husband. His skin was darkened from a day spent at his profession, that of a blacksmith. The smithy adjoined the greenhouse, generating heat during the winter for the plants to survive. The man himself was the other half of the reason why I had chosen this place as my lodging.


    Derrick was not just a blacksmith, though that made up the majority of his sales. He was also a firebrother who specialized in weapon smithing. The occasional adventurer would appear at Tanna''s shop to request the creation of a superior blade. He had given up adventuring for his trade, and the few commissions he did carry out were lucrative enough that he and his wife between them had a comfortable living.


    I turned to face him as he clapped me on the shoulder, nearly sending me sprawling to the ground.


    "Hello Derrick." I winced.


    He chuckled, "Sorry about that, I''m still getting used to the extra strength."


    I had traded Derrick six level two strength enhancing elixirs, enough for six months of use, in exchange for the use of his forge and the promise that he would teach me how to work a blade. We were both certain that we had gotten the better end of the bargain.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "You''re going to go blind if you spend all of your time in that musty library," He admonished me, "I''ve seen it happen before."


    I grinned wryly, "I keep an essence lamp with me. Low light is what really damages eyes."


    "Hmmm," He said, rubbing his chin, "You''re supposed to work the forge with me tomorrow."


    I nodded, "In the morning, then I''m headed to the alchemy lab over at the university. I begged some personal time to make some of my own things for sale."


    He eyed me shrewdly, "You wouldn''t happen to need a place to sell those things would you?"


    I held up my hands defensively, "The university takes two coppers from a silver of what I make and sells it for me."


    "We could do a copper on the silver," He offered.


    I shook my head, "I would be barred from the dispensary and expelled from the guild if I were caught selling solo. I don''t need to tell you how difficult it is to get herbs from the Broken Lands here."


    He sighed, "It was worth a try."


    I left him with that and spent the rest of the night practicing inscription. That was how my days had gone so far. The ten day ''week'' of Aramor had been a strange alteration to my habits. Even stranger was the fact that the fifth day and the tenth day were the religious days, with the fifth day being devoted to Tyr, the god of justice and mercy. The tenth day belonged to Orianna. I began to wonder whether or not I should try to introduce the weekend to Esturia.


    Every other workday I would spend time in the forge. I was grateful for Laurel''s insistence that I complete at least one round of strength enhancing elixirs, as they were the only things that prevented me from dropping dead during these sessions. That, and a lot of water. Firebrothers, red mages of middling strength, are resistant to heat and flame. Derrick claims he can suck the stuff up to become stronger. I am disinclined to doubt him.


    The rest of my daytime hours were spent at the library, combing through the tomes on alchemy, practical magic, and enchanting. The headaches I nursed over the bloat associated with alchemy texts were rivaled only by those I acquired while trying to find anything at all written about my two other subjects of interest.


    Attunement, the spell which I had used on Master Norry today, was one of the only useful practical magic spells I had come across so far. It was actually an extension of the spell which was commonly used to detect the strength and affinity of other mages. Everything else was either a parlor trick, or just outright wrong. I was beginning to be frustrated by the heavy emphasis placed on cardinal magic in Aramor.


    Enchantment, as I had been told my Master Norry, was a very secretive skill. Individual houses hoarded their own enchantment techniques. It seemed that the possession of magic items beyond mundane items such as essence lanterns, even those whose use was unknown, was a symbol of status among those of higher breeding. After learning this, I had been very careful to keep my own magic items secret. Without any other source of information, I had read, then re-read the primer I had obtained in Whelden. I was getting quite good at the precise, geometric art of inscribing.


    After an hour I set down my pencil and leaned back, groaning at the pain in my back. I briefly contemplated using a little white magic to heal myself, then suppressed that thought with a shudder. In the past two weeks I had started to practice with my newly acquired affinity and come to a single conclusion.


    White magic was the most dangerous of all magic.


    The feeling of channeling the stuff was beyond pleasure. After touching it for the first time, I found myself diving straight into its lovely embrace. I had awoken a day later, shivering like a heroin addict going through withdrawal. I remembered a cool, dispassionate part of my brain rummaging through the small rack of potions that I kept in my closet, my hands unsteady from a palsy-like shaking. I had eventually found the small vial of bile toad extract and downed the whole thing.


    I had pre-treated the stuff with a curative to counter the killing effect, leaving only the magic dampening effects. That small vial had kept me alive for long enough to reassert a modicum of discipline over the yammering desire to burn through all of my reserve essence. I had since let myself touch that deadly power only a few times, and only with another vial of the toad poison in hand. It was heady beyond reason, and my desire to touch the stuff was outweighed only by the absolute terror I felt towards it.


    But by the goddess, how i wanted to touch it, just ignite the smallest fraction of essence into it. The thought made me shiver again, though this time, it was a shiver of pure anticipation. Closing my eyes, I mastered myself.


    Breathing deeply, I massaged my lower back and stood up, opening the door to my room.


    "Whatcha doin''?" Came a small voice, causing me to jump and knock my head against the roof.


    Rubbing my aching crown, I looked down at Miriam, Tanna and Derrick''s daughter. The girl shared Tanna''s dark brown curls, but her face favored her father, all angles. Her pale blue eyes were ringed by an emerald halo brought on by the use of wind magic. I had spent enough time with her to gauge her soul at somewhere a little above her father, who sat at the average strength of mages in Esturia. A windsister then, with all of the flighty characteristics that marked practitioners of that magic.


    I carefully pushed her back, "Just some inscribing."


    She screwed up her face, "You''re always working Master Dyre, don''t you ever do anything fun?"


    "Reading is fun." I mumbled.


    "Hah!" She laughed, "I was right, you''re as stuffy as an adult."


    "You''re not exactly a minor." I pointed out, "And I am... I think I''m twenty-something."


    "This is what happens when you spend all of your time with books," She said righteously, "It turns your brain into mush. Do you even know what day it is?"


    I began counting on my fingers.


    "My point exactly!" She crowed in triumph.


    "Is there a reason why you''re here?" I asked, feeling a little irritated.


    "Mom wants you to stop acting like a hermit and come down for dinner." She said.


    "She wants me to stir the pot again doesn''t she?" I asked, a note of resignation in my voice.


    She grinned, "You''re so smart Master Dyre!"


    Tanna''s homemade stew was passable. Nothing I would write home about, but I would never turn it down. However, being a gray mage came with a lot of minor perks, most of which were clearly designed to eat away at my preciously apportioned time. Just as I could forge a horseshoe that would outlast any other, or make a curative that would act almost instantly, my magic also gave me the ability to turn bland food into something... slightly less bland.


    Ten minutes of stirring, and I was at the table with the family.


    "You''ve become an amazing cook dear!" Derrick declared, downing his serving of stew.


    Tanna broke a piece of bread, which I had taken a turn kneading, and winked at me. Glancing over at Miriam, I saw her tap the side of her nose and smile. It felt somewhat like I was being domesticated. I took solace in the fact that my magic was based largely on intent, and the feminine coercion which put me in the kitchen made my powers less effective. Though the stew steadily got better every day, so maybe I didn''t mind it so much.


    "Somebody came by the shop today," Derrick said after finishing his third bowl, "Looked like a knight of the Sisterhood."


    I sat up straight, "Oh?"


    He nodded, "Inquired after the forging of a blade. I gave her the rundown and she seemed interested. Although, she spent more than a little time looking around the forge. Kind of like she was searching for someone."


    I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat, "White hair, golden eyes?"


    He nodded, "Is there something I should know about Master Dyre?"


    "Are you courting someone?!" Miriam butted in, "You?!"


    Don''t act like it''s such a surprise, little girl. Even if it''s not true.


    "Tylee and I journeyed together from Whelden," I supplied, "She promised to seek me out if she needed my assistance. I guess she has some kind of need now. If she comes by again, would you take a message or let her know when I will be there next?"


    Derrick nodded, "Good to know you''re not trying to hide. I don''t want any trouble coming down on this house you know."


    "I wouldn''t dream of it sir." I said.


    "Do you even know what a girl looks like?" Miriam spouted.


    "I can see you can''t I?" I growled.


    Miriam blinked, then pulled back, muttering an excuse and leaving the table. Derrick scratched his bald head and Tanna muffled a giggle behind one of her hands.


    "I need to look over my notes." I declared, excusing myself as well.


    I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I made my way to my room, as if someone were glaring at me. When I turned to check, there was no one there. Esturia is making me paranoid.


    XXXXXX


    Tylee found me the next day at the forge. I felt mildly self-conscious of the thick apron and woolen shirt plastered to my body by a veritable flood of sweat. Tylee held no such reservations about my hygiene, and after speaking briefly with Derrick, she marched her way over to me, stopping within a short arm''s reach.


    "Master Dyre." She said, not seeming to notice the way that I probably reeked, "I believe that you once told me that you were an alchemist. What business have you in a smithy?"


    "Siste-" I began.


    "I have been released from my oaths to the Sisterhood and can no longer claim that title," She interrupted, pain evident in her features.


    "Lady Arefina." I corrected, stepping back and bowing towards her, "I am a man of many talents."


    Mild irritation crossed her face as I rose, but she accepted the courtesy. It looked as if she was still growing, or perhaps shrinking down, into her title. Though she carried herself with solid assurance, there was a mild aura of dissatisfaction around her. The kind of aura that usually sent men like me ducking for cover.


    "You still look like a sister." I said, gesturing to the breastplate, greaves and vambraces which encircled the gold-trimmed white of her battle garb.


    "An affectation to draw less attention." She said.


    I stared at her, "You do know that a knight-sister of the order visiting a blacksmith is more than a little conspicuous. Right?"


    She looked around, "I am here to speak to the smith about my weapon."


    Ah, that made sense. But still, traveling incognito as a knight-sister was... Well, it was very much a move that Tylee would make. Blunt. I had a feeling that she had not been going for a so-dumb-it''s-clever move.


    "How may I assist you my lady?" I asked.


    "You may call me Tylee." She said, showing another bout of irritation.


    I held up a finger, "We are not exactly private here my lady, and I am trying very hard to make sure that I don''t slip up when I speak to you. Even in places where we might not be overheard."


    She paused, thinking about that, then nodded, "I see the wisdom in your words Master Dyre."


    I grinned, "You must have me confused with someone else. I have never been wise, nor very masterful."


    She gazed at me levelly, then drew her sword. I might have had the tiniest moment of doubt where I thought she intended to run me through, but that thought died when she held the weapon out to me. Gingerly, I accepted it and was surprised to feel a resonation when I took hold of it.


    "Is this enchanted?" I asked, looked it over, "I don''t see any inscriptions."


    She shook her head, then spoke, "This is the blade that I carried from Whelden."


    I paused, then examined it more closely. Sure enough, I did see several notches which I had noticed when sharpening and cleaning the blade. Closing my eyes, I quested towards it in the same way that I did with my staff, and I felt the stirrings of dormant power within its depths.


    Completely forgetting Tylee, I stepped over to the forge and inserted the blade into the flames. While the blade did begin to heat, it was a much slower process, and I could literally feel the steel resisting the chaotic energy of the fire. I quickly withdrew it before any harm could be done to the weapon. Settling down at a bench, I began to examine the weapon closer.


    "It still sings to me." Tylee noted from beside me, causing me to jump slightly, "Though its voice is muted."


    I looked up at her, mildly chagrined, "Apologies. This is... unprecedented. I''ve never been able to do anything like this, and I certainly haven''t read about it in any books."


    She nodded thoughtfully, "I was also unable to find any reason for the continuance of the power you laid upon it, no matter how I searched the family library."


    I ran a hand over the blade, then shrugged and took it to the grindstone. Closing my eyes, I took a moment to center myself, bringing my will to bear upon the blade, along with the trickle of magic that escaped through my fingers. I focused again on my intent, to make the blade sharper and harder. As I began to work, the resonance I felt within the blade grew stronger, as if it were remembering my previous ministrations.


    At length, I finished my work and handed the weapon back to her. While it didn''t emit any visible light, it seemed to glow in another sense. She hesitated, then took it from my grasp, examining it closely.


    "It sings louder." She said quietly, as if regarding an object of reverence.


    "It''s still just a sword." I pointed out.


    She shook her head as she sheathed the weapon, though I could feel her reluctance to hide away its new brilliance.


    "It is an enchanted item, though there are no inscriptions upon it." She said, "This bears thought."


    "Indeed," I responded, pondering aloud, "I thought I felt something within it. Why don''t you bring it back Mornday and I''ll work it again, see if anything else happens."


    "I would not be opposed to this, although I came here to speak to you in your capacity as a medical alchemist." She said.


    My ears perked up, "What happened?"


    "It is my sister," She said, "Her health is continuing to deteriorate. I had hoped you would accompany me to her side and minister to her."


    I glanced over at Derrick, who was surreptitiously cleaning some tools. He noticed my look and gestured to the door.


    "I''m not your master." He said, "Though I am grateful for your assistance."


    Tylee stepped up to the blacksmith and pressed something that glinted into his hand, "I thank you good smith, for the use of your workshop."


    Derrick''s eyes widened at the sight of a gold sovereign. It was not uncommon for him to receive gold pennies, but it was rare for even adventurers to carry sovereigns with them. They mostly paid in silver.


    "I don''t think I can accept this lady." He said, trying to hand it back, only to have her push it back against him.


    "The goddess sees her own," Tylee said, "Master Dyre is a friend, and you have done more than shelter him. Accept this as a token of my gratitude."


    I was already belting my way up into the house, my apron trailing as I blew past a peeping Miriam.

 The Lady Arefina

    Tylee moved with poise and grace down the street while I stumbled after her, trying to vain to rub soot from my face and arms with a damp cloth while juggling my staff and bag into comfortable positions on my body.


    "While your haste is admirable," Tylee said wryly, "I believe you are making a fool of yourself. Allow me."


    She paused and took the washcloth from my hand. With economical movements, which told me this was not her first time scrubbing down a grubby adventurer, my skin was left tingling in irritation, but much cleaner than before. I gratefully took the cloth and dropped it in my bag, making a mental note to myself about taking it out later.


    "How long has your sister been sick?" I asked.


    "This will be the third month." She said.


    Almost a season then. That was... worrying. It either hinted at a slow-acting poison, which would be incredibly difficult to deal with, or the presence of somebody within the household who was actively administering said poison. Although why someone would have planned a lingering death for her rather than a swift ending was beyond me.


    "Do you trust the people who serve her food?" I asked.


    "Implicitly." She replied, "The staff have all sworn oaths to the house of Arefina."


    "How much money would it take to convince a wick to give up his or her power?" I asked grimly, "Or some other motivation? Does anybody have family who have suddenly gone missing?"


    Arefina''s face grew grave. The woman had a habit of expecting others to act in the same upright way in which she did. I was afraid that this would be in incredible detriment to her in the obviously cutthroat world of Aramoran politics. To me, it was endearing. That was why I was putting myself in mortal danger to help her.


    That, and a goddess had asked me to do it.


    As we approached the center of the city, there were fewer and fewer people bustling about. Their garb also began to change. Simple, efficient clothing was replaced by ornamented and exaggerated styles. Some of the people we passed gave Arefina significant glances, followed by whispers which I couldn''t help but overhear.


    "They say she broke her vows to the Lady!" A woman whispered in a scandalized voice.


    "I heard she killed a group of adventurers." A man whispered back, "Got slapped on the wrist and sent home. Her sister died shortly after."


    I closed the distance between us and lowered my voice, "You are not well liked."


    Tylee shrugged, "That is irrelevant."


    "It seems to me that it is increasingly relevant." I replied hotly, "You need to make some allies Lady Arefina. I don''t... I don''t want to see you get hurt."


    She took a stutter step, then resumed her swift pace, turning a hot gaze on me, "I choose my friends carefully Master Dyre. I would hope that you would be understanding of that. I will not give my trust and devotion without care, or with the intent to betray."


    I sighed, "You don''t understand politics."


    She grimaced, "I do not like politics. There will come a time when I will do what must be done. Until then, I will maintain the standards which the Sisterhood instilled within me. Just because I must muddy my feet, it does not mean I will wallow in the cesspit surrounding the court."


    I was taken aback by that and grew silent. I had assumed that her lack of connections stemmed from naivete, or perhaps her inability to speak in anything but correct, unvarnished language. It seemed that she was fully aware of the currents swirling around her, and was unwilling to be tugged about by them. I respected that, though I felt like a man who had chained his foot to a rock and dropped into said river.


    We entered the grounds of a three storied manor that covered more area than the entire library, and I whistled at the size of it. Two banners of red unfurled themselves to either side of the entrance, adorned with a shield that held the likeness of the four elements, signifying that the house had borne a great soul of each cardinal element. Before the shield was the image of what I assumed was a gryphon. This appeared to be the family crest.


    The house itself was built from red brick, worn smooth by the passage of time. Alabaster casements gave way to windows which were almost as tall as I was. The door was carved from what appeared to be a solid piece of ironwood, and would probably resist battering even better than the actual walls of the house. A few shutters I spotted were closed from the inside, most likely made of the same material. Functional and stylish. I liked it.


    I whistled appreciatively.


    "I would ask you to refrain from such actions," She muttered harshly, "This is not a brothel."


    I clamped my mouth shut. Of course whistling was bad in Aramor. I should have guessed it.


    Tylee swept up to a pair of servants with a nod, holding up a hand as one moved to intercept me.


    "This is Master Dyre," She said, "A friend of the Sisterhood and master alchemist. I have asked him here on behalf of my sister Megaine. While he is here, you may regard his words as my own, within all suitable limits of course."


    You aren''t being very subtle Tylee.


    "Of course, my lady." The man said, bowing deeply, then bustling after us, "Is there anything that you require Master Dyre?"Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    I paused for a moment, Tylee''s footfalls stopping moments later as she turned to regard me.


    "You are the head of the servants?" I asked.


    "Bertram sen Arefina at your service." He said with a bow, "I have served the house from my boyhood."


    I nodded thoughtfully, "For now, I would appreciate it if you would have hot water brought to the lady''s room, along with the strongest soap available. Afterwards, I may need your assistance as well."


    "I am at your disposal." He said, bowing again.


    With a gesture to the woman beside him, they hurried away to fulfill my instructions.


    "You are conversant in the ways of ordering servants." Tylee noted.


    "I''ve been on the receiving end," I replied, deigning to elaborate no further.


    Tylee took me at my word and led me to a room on the third floor. The man standing outside had a stoic expression and a cerulean glare for me that would have melted steel. I would be willing to bet that he was either an earth or fire mage. His darkly tanned skin was stretched taut over a muscular figure that had probably benefited from several years'' worth of strength enhancing elixirs.


    "Vesk." Tylee said in greeting, "This is Ethan Dyre. He is a medical alchemist. I have asked him here to look over my sister."


    The man''s eyes turned from angry to calculating as he looked me up and down, "Lord Arefina doesn''t want undesirables seeing the lady."


    Tylee regarded him coolly, "My father is the man of this house, but I have been appointed daughter-heir. My rights supersede his own. Stand aside Vesk."


    The air between the two heated noticeably. I could tell that Vesk wasn''t like the other servants. He occupied some niche which allowed him to call upon the influence of Tylee''s father, protecting him from the wrath of even the daughter-heir of the house.


    After several seconds, the man stepped to the side and bowed slightly, "As you wish, my lady."


    I tried to avoid spontaneously combusting from Vesk''s glare as we entered the room. The man was no great soul, but the read halo around his iris nearly consumed his natural color of brown.


    On a rather impressively sized bed in the middle of the lavishly decorated room lay a figure who shared Tylee''s white hair. Her features were more gaunt than the healthy, though starkly angular, set of Tylee''s, but I could easily tell that they were sisters. Despite her closed eyes, I felt a sort of awareness around her as I entered the room.


    "Affinity?" I asked.


    "Water." Tylee said, approaching her sister quietly, "Her meditation is the only thing keeping her alive."


    I nodded thoughtfully. It made sense. Although geomancers were capable of making themselves tougher, hydromancers were the true masters of durability. Where a geomancer would crack, a hydromancer would bend. It was obvious that Megaine was sustaining herself with magic, as it literally oozed off of her. Interesting.


    Tylee turned to face me, "What is your opinion."


    I shrugged, "She''s an accomplished mage. That''s all I can tell right now. Do I have your permission to touch her?"


    Tylee nodded, and I stepped forward, laying two fingers on her forehead. Closing my eyes, I chanted the attunement spell under my breath, igniting a small amount of essence to connect us for a brief moment. Pain flashed through my body, and I felt Tylee''s steadying grip take hold of me as the awareness of her sister''s malady caused my knees to buckle.


    "She''s definitely been poisoned," I groaned, holding my head, "Have you tried any curatives?"


    Tylee nodded, "All the known ones. Nothing has helped."


    I nodded thoughtfully. The brief alignment of our bodies had told me that there was a mass of the poison collected in her heart. It felt as if the organ had been healed several times, and the woman''s own hydromancy was working to overcome the attack. The problem was that her body seemed incapable of metabolizing or excreting the foul stuff.


    We were briefly interrupted by the entrance of a maid bearing a porcelain bowl of steaming water. She deposited her burden on a stand in the room, probably meant for such use, then placed a bar of yellow-brown soap on the vanity next to the stand before leaving without comment.


    "Give me a moment." I muttered, taking the moment to summon a long-needled syringe from my bag and moving to wash my hands, "Could you strip her nightgown."


    Tylee gave me a level look.


    "It''s for medical purposes," I supplied hastily, "I don''t plan on ogling her."


    Tylee''s eyes narrowed, "See that you do not."


    While she was distracted with the task, I washed my hands, then tapped the skin beneath my right eye, igniting the smallest amount of essence into white magic. It wouldn''t take much, though even the small amount I channeled left me with a heady feeling that only deepened my desire to summon even more. I suppressed it with some effort.


    Placing two fingers over her chest, I moved swiftly, driving the needle between her ribs and directly into her heart. With a feeling of relief and frustration, I released the small burst of white magic into her body, bidding it to mend the wound which I was currently creating.


    Switching my grip, I pulled back on the plunger and withdrew a significant glob of blood, another darker substance swimming in its depths. Pulling the needle free gently, I slapped a bandage over the wound, more to cover my own use of white magic than to cover up the quickly knitting flesh.


    Between Tylee and I, we quickly had her sister bandaged properly and reposing in bed once again, her gown restored to its position.


    "I require an explanation," Tylee said, "Now."


    "In a moment." I said, depositing the contents of my syringe into a glass vial and capping it before placing it gently inside my bag.


    Setting aside my tools, I turned to face her, "I needed a sample of the poison in order to create an effective curative."


    "Curatives don''t work." She said doggedly.


    I shook my head, "No known curative works. The main ingredient in any curative is poison from the creature in question. By combining that with certain other ingredients, an alchemist can create a neutralizing agent."


    "You plan to create a curative for this poison then?" Tylee asked.


    I nodded, "I couldn''t get it from a regular blood draw, I needed to locate the highest concentration of the poison and extract it directly. I''ll need a few days and more than a little gold. I might even need to repeat the procedure we just went through."


    Tylee glanced at her sister, then turned back to me, "Do not ever surprise me like that again."


    Though her words were soft, they carried a weight in them that promised more than verbal retribution.


    "If I had told you that I was going to stick a needle in your sister''s heart," I reasoned, "Would you have let me?"


    "Yes." Tylee replied, "I trust you Ethan Dyre. I am disappointed that the feeling is not mutual."


    That was like a sucker-punch to the gut.


    "I will have rooms prepared for you," Tylee said, "You may remain here while working on a cure for my sister."


    I stepped back in surprise, "I need an alchemy lab."


    "I have had one fully stocked in preparation for your arrival." She replied with equanimity.


    "I need to let Tanna know that I will be gone." I tried.


    "I will send someone to assure them of your safe return." Tylee countered.


    "You''re not letting me leave until I finish, are you?" I asked warily.


    "I cannot risk having you waylaid while traveling to and from the manor," She said, "Here, I can protect you. Out there, my power wanes, and I do not have the time to escort you everywhere myself. You once told me that I could call upon you in need. I am at my utmost extremity. Please Ethan, I have exhausted all of my options and there is none left to whom I may turn."


    Her heartfelt plea moved me, I''m man enough to admit that. There was also the point where she could literally lock me in a room, both legally and literally, until I complied with her request. I decided that discretion would be the better part of valor.


    "Show me to my lab then." I said.

 Parasite

    Three days later


    I stared blearily at the page of notes in front of me. I had already extracted another, larger glob of poison from Tylee''s sister. I had spent the first day carefully crafting recipes, then testing them. None had ended with an efficacious curative. Any alchemical mixture, when created properly, gains the ability to hold essence. If improperly prepared, the stuff leaks straight out. None of my creations were able to hold even a memory of essence.


    The second day, I had begun haphazardly throwing things together, still to no avail. On the third day, today, I was reduced to glumly looking over my current failures or prodding at a small sample of the poison.


    I sighed and stood up. I walked over to the window and watched the small stream that wound its way through the tranquil garden located in the rear of the Arefina manor. I spotted Tylee walking through the garden, her features hard as always. Her expression was complemented by the rough training garb she wore, a leather tunic and breeches.


    As if sensing my presence, she looked up to the second story window which gave me my vantage point. Her golden eyes met my own steel gray ones and she held the gaze, a hand laid gently on the blade which I was continuing to... alter. I raised a hand and she nodded in return, before continuing her walk. She had probably been training with her blade forms in the practice field and had decided to wander about before returning to the house.


    I absently tapped my heart and head, the two locations in which the poison had most accumulated in Megaine''s body. I had already determined that the poison itself was magical in nature. There was no question about that. Unfortunately, even the codices which Tylee had procured for me gave no hints as to the origin of it.


    I wandered back to my bench and looked down at the flask of black liquid which had so vexed me. Glaring at it, I picked it up and swirled the vile stuff. Frustration and anger built up over days filled my body, and my grip tightened. Before I realized what I was doing, the flask shattered in my grip.


    Pain radiated through my hand from several embedded shards. I sighed and began plucking them out. After that was attended to, I bent down to retrieve the larger shards of glass and began gingerly grabbing them. My movements put my injured hand over the black substance, and I watched with mild interest as a drop of my blood splashed down on the curiously cohesive puddle. The blood floated like oil on water for a moment, then seemed to be sucked right into the puddle.


    I stopped, looked at my hand, then intentionally let another drop of blood fall onto the puddle of poison. Same effect.


    Cautiously, I lowered my injured hand towards the poison. When I got within a couple inches, it began to contract. No, it wasn''t just contracting, it was reaching. The bundled stuff began heaping up towards my injury, and I pulled back instinctively, causing it to settle again to the floor, waiting patiently for another drop of my blood.


    I wasn''t dealing with a poison. This was alive. It was a parasite.


    I quickly dressed my wound and used a syringe to collect the spilled creature off of the floor. Injecting it into another flask, I swept up the remaining broken glass and settled down to stare at the creature. Now that I knew what I was dealing with, a whole world of possibilities had opened up.


    Curiously, I ignited a small amount of essence into white magic and touched the edge of the flask. The creature pressed itself entirely against the glass, trying to get at the healing energy, even through the non-reactive prison. I moved my hand to the top and released the magic into the flask, causing the oily thing to quiver as the power swirled into it. When the last drop was gone, it went inert again, becoming a pool of liquid which I swore was slightly larger than it had been.


    This thing was amazing. Scratch that, it was amazingly horrifying.


    I capped the flask and placed it on a flat surface in the very center of my desk, where it wouldn''t accidentally fall to the floor. I had no idea how this thing moved around in the wild, but I was unwilling to find out without keeping it within direct visual contact.


    That done, I quickly jotted down a list of several ingredients and stepped out into the main house. After a little searching I found Raila, one of the maids.


    "Miss Raila," I said quickly, presenting her with the paper, "Could you have someone head down to the market and get these ingredients for me? They may have to go to the Collegium''s dispensary for a few of the items."


    She curtsied, "Of course Master Dyre."


    I thanked her and made my way back up to the room in which Megaine was resting. Vesk didn''t bother to stop me, but he did try to kill me with pure hatred as I stepped diffidently into the lady''s room. I couldn''t see a lot of good things about Vesk, but he was certainly loyal to the Arefinas. Well, at least to Duke Arefina, who was still conspicuously absent from the manor. Tylee had failed to elaborate any further on his absence.


    Stepping up to the bed of my patient, I silently tapped the right side of my face. I groaned as the white magic flared to life, and had to take a moment to center myself before reaching out and touching the sleeping woman. I tightly controlled the flow of power, bending it to my will to keep it from reaching Megaine''s heart. For about a dozen seconds I held it there, feeling the attrition of the power as it desperately sought for injuries to heal.


    Then I felt it, the dark tendrils of the parasite. It had sensed the power of white magic and had slipped into her blood, where it was carried by her own body towards the powerful healing magic. Slowly, then with shocking speed, the white magic was sucked into the creature. I saw Megaine grimace slightly.


    Pulling back, I let the last of the white magic fizzle out of existence. Once essence had been converted into magical power, it could not be returned to such, and I was unwilling to walk around holding on to even the lightest scrap of the stuff. I realized belatedly that my hand no longer hurt from the wounds I had received earlier.


    "Master Dyre." Came a calm voice from behind me.


    I jumped, spinning around. Tylee was standing several steps away from me, regarding me calmly.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "L-lady Arefina!" I yelped.


    She regarded me seriously, "I was informed that you had sent Raila to the market for more materials. May I assume that you have made some sort of progress?"


    I nodded briefly. Apparently she hadn''t noticed my use of white magic. It was both a relief and another burden upon me. In some ways, I wished that someone would find out. Though when I thought about it more carefully, I supposed that things were better this way.


    "Your sister hasn''t been poisoned," I explained, "She''s been infected."


    She raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.


    "It''s a parasite of some kind," I continued, "From what I can tell, it is capable of consuming white magic."


    "How did you arrive at this conclusion?" Tylee asked.


    Oof, another fumble. Zero for two today, I was doing great. I thought quickly.


    "Let me show you." I said, buying myself some time.


    I quickly led her back to my lab and performed my little blood trick on the parasite. It responded greedily to the stuff, then went inert when I withdrew the meal. Acting on instinct, I then asked Tylee to channel some of her own magic into the thing. As she did, the creature reacted in kind, growing slightly larger again as it absorbed her power.


    She turned to me, a look of disgust on her face, "I see now. Do you have a plan to deal with this creature?"


    I nodded enthusiastically, "Yes. Well, somewhat."


    "Somewhat?" She asked.


    "Now that I know what I am dealing with, I can create a poison that will kill the creature," I said, "The problem will be finding and developing one that won''t kill Megaine as well. Targeted poisons are very good, but they can have side effects, especially in the dose that I will need."


    She nodded thoughtfully, "Your plan has merit. What do you need?"


    "Time and money," I replied, "Even if I come up with solution, the treatment will probably be a long one, and I have no idea how the creature will respond to being poisoned. It has a rudimentary sort of intelligence, and it may not appreciate being killed."


    "Raila will take some time to return," Tylee said, "I would appreciate it if you would accompany me outside. Bring your staff."


    "I could get started with formulations-" I began to protest.


    "You have been in this room all day for three days," Tylee interrupted me, "I am not an alchemist, but I know what fatigue looks like when I see it. Though there is fire in your eyes, it is laid over a deep emptiness. I would not have you make a mistake now, after you are so close to developing a cure."


    I acquiesced.


    Tylee led me through the gardens, her movements more languid than the purposeful stride that I was used to. It was easy to keep up with her when she was not moving with purpose. It was also faintly distracting to me, as it was utterly at odds with her usual personality.


    "I would speak with you somewhat," She hesitated, "As a friend, Ethan."


    I glanced around, then shrugged, "You have my attention Tylee."


    A warm smile drifted onto her face as I spoke her name, "It is good to hear my name again. It reminds me of the time I spent among the sisters. I admit that I had seriously considered not bringing you here for that purpose. I am trying to leave my life as a knight behind. Now, I am glad that I chose to heed the voice in my heart."


    We had stopped by a small pond filled with brilliantly colored fish. I glanced over at her and saw the deep sorrow behind that warm smile. I suddenly felt a surge of affection for Tanna and her family. While they were bothersome, their antics were always inclusive to me. Here, Tylee was a statue kept high on a pedestal. She could only be gazed upon with awe.


    She was alone.


    "What about your father?" I asked, desperately searching for something to distract her from that emptiness.


    Her gaze sharpened, "My father is moving among the nobility, buying time for us and seeking a suitable match for me."


    I blinked, "A what?"


    She turned to face me, "I am the last surviving daughter of this house. I must marry and produce an heir in order to secure our future. Father is looking for a politically and magically suitable man who may stand with me."


    Something about that made my stomach tighten into knots.


    "What about Megaine?" I asked, "We''re very close to a cure."


    "We are still very weak right now," Tylee said, "And the cold reality is that while I do have hope for my sister, no other member of the nobility does."


    Floundering, I said the only thing I could think of, "What can I do?"


    The goddess Orianna had laid a charge on me, and I was unwilling to let myself fail after such a short time.


    She sighed, "Truly? I do not know. I know that your presence brings me peace Ethan. I fear though, that your assistance is only putting you in danger. I am loath to ask more of you, as your death would... dishearten me."


    "I won''t abandon you Tylee." I said, meeting her eyes and trying to convey my earnestness, "Even if everybody else has. I won''t always be by your side, I want to live my life too, but you can rely on me when you need me most."


    "Your loyalty is admirable Ethan," She said, the warmth in her voice genuine, "But perhaps you should take heed to the actions of the noble houses. They know Arefina is being targeted, and are unwilling to bind themselves to a slowly sinking ship."


    "Then we get to the bottom of the conspiracy against you!" I declared.


    "You speak such a complicated thing in such simple words," She said sadly, "Do you not think that I have not bent all of my resources to discovering who would benefit most from targeting my family?"


    I held up a finger, "But now we have a clue. The parasite is not a normal weapon. Anyone could buy poison from the right alchemist, but very few people would have access to this kind of creature. I have a feeling that the person behind this isn''t doing it for the first time."


    Tylee''s face grew hard, and I could see calculations running through her head, "Of course..."


    "The Adventurers'' Guild and the Alchemists'' Guild are pretty heavily entwined," I said, "I can speak with the guildmaster here and see if any adventurers have run into a creature like this. That would give us a clue as to where we should start."


    New fire ignited in Tylee''s eyes, and grinned, "I see that my faith in you has yielded more than I hoped, friend Ethan. Orianna has surely brought us together and blessed our meeting."


    More than you know Tylee.


    "Come!" She said suddenly, "If you wish to descend into danger with me, then at least allow me to instruct you in the art of the battle."


    I held up my staff, "This has always been good enough for me."


    She nodded, "Of course. But I will teach you to turn that glorified club into the song of death itself."


    I followed her, her steps now purposeful, and swift enough to send me scampering after her. On the whole, it was very unfair that she could move so surely and with such haste. I was taller than her by a good twelve centimeters.


    We came to the practice grounds and Tylee exchanged her sword for a staff of similar length to my own. For the next hour, she instructed me in the art of being hit. I also managed to pick up some skill with the staff in return for my bruises. Her strikes were always measured enough to hurt, but not cause lasting damage.


    "Enough!" Tylee called, her voice hard, "Raila should have returned by now."


    "You," I gasped, my stomach aching from her last blow, "Are a cruel teacher."


    She grinned, "As a knight, I was taught that every five injuries received on the training ground would prevent one in the real world. I rarely went to bed without bruises."


    Great. Sadistic warrior nuns.


    "Isn''t it hard to injure a geomancer?" I asked warily.


    "My instructors took special care to hit me harder than the others." She replied.


    "Remind me to never join the sisterhood." I noted dryly.


    "Unfortunately," She said, "You are ineligible to join the ecclesiastical ranks of Orianna. I am certain that the Seekers of Tyr would be willing to take you on though. You would certainly be a match for any middling soul."


    "Hard pass." I replied instantly.


    "There are few who take up the calling," She replied with equanimity, "But you should know that my house would sponsor you if you were to seek such a calling."


    "Still no." I responded, "I like being an alchemist. It involves a lot fewer bruises."


    She smiled at that, "Let us retire inside then. We have played, but now there is work to do."


    Only you would call this sort of thing play Tylee.

 A Rising Tide

    Two Weeks Later


    10 mL Chimera venom


    25 mL Curall suspension


    5 sprigs of Hensley


    ¡­


    The list went on.


    I held the flask by a pair of tongs as I swirled it over the small fire on my bench. I must have looked like a mess. My hair was definitely disheveled, and I didn¡¯t remember having shaved for the past two weeks. My last bath was nothing more than a memory.


    Essence flowed from me as I completed the last steps in the crafting of this poison. I sent a silent prayer to Orianna, this had to work.


    A flare within the poison responded, then faded. I held my breath, waiting for the telltale flash of essence falling out of the solution. Nothing came.


    Ever so carefully, I set the flask down, leaned back, and let out a groan.


    Step one down.


    Next, I took my third sample of the creature which was dwelling within Megaine and dropped a small amount of the stuff on it. The hiss and writhing in the flask let me know that it had worked. I held my breath, now was the moment of truth.


    Drawing a weave of magic around myself, I carefully reached out towards the essence which I had infused within the brew. There is a certain level of resonance between myself and the things I create, to the point where I can pick up on certain attributes. In this case, I was trying to get a feel for how it would affect a human.


    I felt my stomach muscles cramp, and a cold sweat broke out across my body. I bent forward, suddenly glad that I had not taken any meals today. In moments, the sensation was gone, and I sucked in a few breaths. Carefully setting down the vial, I rested my head on the bench before me.


    Success.


    It was strange, the only thing I really felt after these two grueling weeks was a sense of emptiness. My skills as an alchemist and mage had been pushed to their limits in the production of this single vial. In truth, it was probably my greatest accomplishment to date. I had learned a great deal of things, and wasted a great deal of Tylee¡¯s gold, in the production of this poison.


    Time passed, and I finally gathered the strength to pull myself up. Before standing, I removed my personal alchemical grimoire and copied the recipe into it. The book would resist destruction far better than a loose sheaf of paper, and the thought of losing even a small portion of this knowledge was enough to bring me close to tears.


    Standing, I groaned. I had awoken before sunrise, and it was swiftly approaching the fifth hour of the afternoon. Every muscle in my boy ached from my poor posture and the surprising amount of physical activity required of an actively working alchemist.


    I unsteadily limped to the window and threw it open. Fresh air blasted inwards, and I breathed deeply. As I gazed out towards the Eastern edge of the city, I heard a soft knocking come at the door.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I called.


    ¡°Master Dyre,¡± Came the diffident voice of Bertram, ¡°The Lady Arefina wishes to know if you will be present for dinner.¡±


    I sniffed under my arm, my nose wrinkling at the stench, ¡°There wouldn¡¯t happen to be an open bath somewhere?¡±


    I heard a muffled chuckle from the other side of the door, ¡°I have taken the liberty of having the bath warmed for you.¡±


    I strode over to the door and opened it. Based on the expression which briefly flitted over Bertram¡¯s face, I looked, and smelled, as bad as I had imagined.


    ¡°Lead the way then sir,¡± I said with more energy than I really felt, ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I am hardly fit to be in the Lady¡¯s company right now.¡±


    Bertram nodded warily. He and the servants had grown used to me, but they still regarded me with a level of wariness. The few wicks among the staff had identified me as a great soul, which made them uncomfortable with the amount of familiarity I showed them. The truth was, I had worked in a lot of positions in my former life which were very similar to those which these people possessed. I honestly felt more in common with them than I did with my fellow mages.


    Bertram led me to a downstairs room. The bath itself was a small pool connected to a surprisingly complicated series of pipes. The magic of Esturia was magnificent in many ways, but it would take a truly decadent family to waste essence on something as simple as heating water. Instead, there was a central chamber which had a very primitive boiler, no more than a copper vessel with a fire under it, which provided hot water to the house.


    It was still an outrageous luxury to me, who had gotten used to taking sponge baths, or the occasional dip in a river. To those who knew me on Esturia, I was considered somewhat of a clean freak. I had tried to explain germ theory to some of the people with whom I interacted, but Laurel was the only one whom I felt had really understood my explanation of the origin of disease. She had started smelling better the next day.


    Thoughts of Laurel dominated my mind as I sank into the warm pool. I wondered how she and the other residents of Vern were doing in my absence. I had thought to send a letter back to them as soon as classes had started, but that had been curtailed by my sudden pseudo-kidnapping by Tylee.


    At length, I left the bath, feeling like a new man. A thoughtfully provided razor had smoothed out my face, and Bertram had even offered to cut my hair. I had turned him down, opting instead to bind it back in a tail. I was never certain when I would have the services of a barber and didn¡¯t want to have to maintain a short cut myself. My hair had a tendency to take on the very unflattering aspects of a mushroom if kept at a moderate length, so long hair had become my style.


    Washed, shaved, and dressed, I stepped from the bathroom feeling like a completely new man.


    ¡°You clean up well.¡± Tylee noted as I exited.


    I jumped slightly, ¡°Have you been waiting for me?¡±


    ¡°You may escort me to the dining room.¡± She said, ignoring my question.


    Tylee, wearing loose pants and a tunic, hardly looked like someone who needed escorting.


    ¡°Are you sure that you won¡¯t be the one escorting me?¡± I asked warily, holding out an arm to her.


    She smiled at that, ¡°Even the first lady allows the prince of blades to have the illusion of being her protector, though she is the more powerful of the two.¡±


    I grunted at that as she took my arm, ¡°At least the prince of blades has a respected affinity.¡±


    Tylee gave my arm a squeeze, ¡°I value your affinity and talents above those of many of the great souls whom I know Ethan.¡±


    ¡°Alchemists are useful,¡± I said, walking beside her, ¡°But the prince could still take me apart with one arm tied behind his back. Something about the benefits of being a hydromancer.¡±


    ¡°Lord Kellen would not have the capacity to heal my sister.¡± She said simply, ¡°Nor would he have been able to save me on the road to Whelden.¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m useful. That doesn¡¯t mean that I¡¯m worth much in a fight.¡±


    I helped her into her chair as she spoke, ¡°Have you made any progress today?¡±


    I seated myself to her left, the place for a guest who did not share the blood of the family.


    ¡°Yes.¡± I said simply as our food was brought out.


    Dinner tonight was chicken in some kind of tangy sauce, alongside a violently orange grain which resembled rice, but tasted more like a yam. As usual, I declined wine, opting instead to have my purification tankard brought to me so I could have water.


    After taking a few bites, Tylee turned to me, ¡°Would you care to elaborate?¡±


    ¡°I think I have a way to heal your sister.¡± I said.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Tylee¡¯s chair skidded backwards, ¡°We must go now.¡±


    I held up a hand, ¡°Just a moment my lady. I need to eat first, then talk to you about what exactly I need for the procedure.¡±


    She paused, then scooted her chair forward, ¡°I am listening.¡±


    ¡°There are two ways that this is going to go.¡± I said, ¡°The poison that I have prepared is going to either have a prolonged effect, or one that will act very quickly. In either case, your sister will be bedridden for another month at least.¡±


    ¡°In the first case, you will need to administer the poison on a daily basis according to some instructions I will leave,¡± I explained, ¡°It is going to hurt her, and will definitely make her more sick than she is. Stomach cramping with either vomiting or diarrhea, I am not sure which, along with profuse sweating. You will need to get as much sweet, salty water into her as you can.¡±


    ¡°In the second case,¡± I continued, ¡°The parasite will react violently to the cure. If it does so, I am going to have to draw it out and contain it somehow, or it will kill her.¡±


    She nodded somberly, ¡°I understand the gravity of your situation. What will you require.¡±


    ¡°This is going to be the hardest part,¡± I said, ¡°I will need you to keep yourself, and everyone else, out of the room while I am performing the treatment.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± She asked instantly.


    ¡°Because I am going to need to concentrate very hard at weaving the proper magic to draw it out,¡± I half-lied, ¡°And I can¡¯t afford to have anybody in the room disrupting that concentration. A single mistake could spell her death.¡±


    Her gaze was flat as she looked upon me, ¡°I apologize if you believe that I am a hindrance, but I will insist on being present. This sounds as if it will be dangerous. I cannot protect you or my sister while being barred from the room.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing Tylee,¡± I argued, ¡°There is nothing that you can do. And honestly, having someone in there with a great soul could prove as much of a hindrance as a help.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I sighed, ¡°Because, if I can lure the parasite out, I have a feeling that it is going to be angry. I¡¯ve conducted a few experiments with my samples. If it is placed under stress, it actively starts looking for a host. I don¡¯t want to pull this thing from your sister, only to have it infect you.¡±


    The other part of this was that I was almost certain that I would need to use some white magic to entice the creature. If that happened, I didn¡¯t want Tylee there to observe my power. The woman was a staunch friend, but I didn¡¯t want to test the strength of her loyalty towards me against that of her devotion to the teachings of the church. Namely, the one which required that all white mages be turned over to them.


    Tylee remained silent, her eyes searching mine. I tried to look as open as possible. I¡¯m not sure if I succeeded, but I saw the moment when the fight went out of her.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure this will work?¡± She asked.


    ¡°As sure as I can be,¡± I said, ¡°I can do it after dinner. I just needed to prepare myself, and a meal and a bath are about as good a preparation as I can think of.¡±


    I quickly finished my dinner and pushed my chair back, Tylee did not interrupt my task.


    ¡°Ethan.¡± She said as I rose.


    I paused, looking at her questioningly.


    ¡°I hope that one day you will stop lying to me out of misplaced fear.¡± She said, then rose, ¡°Come, let us go.¡±


    Tylee escorted me to my lab, where I picked up several pieces of equipment along with the poison, then up to Megaine¡¯s room. Vesk was waiting there, as per his usual orders. I swear that man didn¡¯t sleep or eat.


    ¡°Lady,¡± He said, then turned a hot gaze on me, ¡°Master alchemist.¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Tylee said, ¡°I will be remaining out here. Vesk, you and I will prevent others from entering my sister¡¯s chambers.¡±


    The big man regarded me hotly, but only nodded his assent to his mistress. I ignored him and entered the room where my patient lay.


    ¡°Good evening Lady Arefina.¡± I greeted my patient.


    As per usual, she ignored me. I guess it technically doesn¡¯t count as ignoring if she can¡¯t really perceive me. Still, I made the effort. It made me feel a little better.


    I laid out a large flask and stoppers, the vessel that I would use to try and contain the parasite if it did indeed come out. I had commissioned the piece to have a second opening, much like a vacuum flask, so that I could push white magic into the vessel in a way that would keep me farther from its actual entry point.


    Second, I withdrew a scalpel I had made myself. Sharp as a razor, it had yet to dull, despite my having used it several times. Last of all, I drew on a pair of linen gloves and covered my face as well as I could. I assumed that the parasite could only enter through broken skin or orifices, so I had made sure to cover myself as much as possible.


    Uncapping the poison, I raised the woman up and poured a moderate dose into her mouth, then held her mouth shut and massaged her throat until she swallowed it. Stepping back, I capped the poison and placed it out of the way.


    That accomplished, I ignited as much white magic as I dared sustain and let it suffuse the outer limits of her circulatory system. The poison would take some time to enter her body, and I wanted the parasite as diffuse as possible before it got hit.


    I felt those tendrils reaching, this time from every corner. I brought the flow of white magic to a mere trickle, yet the creature persisted. It appeared to hunger after white magic as much as humans did.


    I felt the first drop of poison in Megaine¡¯s blood as a shock. By connecting myself with her, I had also connected myself to the parasite. It sensed the attack, and I felt a primitive sort of confusion wash through Megaine¡¯s body.


    I pulled back, then watched carefully. Tylee¡¯s sister remained still as the grave, the only hint of life being the rise and fall of her chest. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Finally, I started reaching out again.


    Megaine¡¯s eyes opened for the first time since I had seen her, causing me to freeze.


    ¡°That tasted awful.¡± She said flatly, ¡°Master Dyre.¡±


    I took an unconscious step back, ¡°Lady Arefina?¡±


    She tried to sit up, only to fall back, clutching her chest. I darted forward, checking her carotid pulse. Her heart was hammering. Watching helplessly, I wondered if I had just killed Tylee¡¯s sister. I would have immediately fired up more white magic if I had thought it would help, rather than hurt her chances of surviving. Instead, I was forced to watch and wait.


    Remarkably, her pulse slowed and her eyes opened once again. Their cerulean depths regarded me with all the frigidity of a mountain spring.


    ¡°It is not dead.¡± She said, ¡°It is¡­ hiding.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I said, ¡°Can you tell where?¡±


    She closed her eyes and I felt a faint surge of power. She grimaced.


    ¡°Everywhere.¡± She said.


    I tried the alignment spell. As soon as the magic touched her, I felt a deep hollowness open up inside my belly. Doubling over, I groaned as that hunger spread, as if a billion tiny mouths were chewing away at every cell of my body. Opening my eyes, I looked into Megaine¡¯s and realized something that she had known since the day she had started her hopeless attempts to slow the progress of the disease.


    She was going to die.


    She had been holding out, hoping for a miracle. It seemed that I had delivered that, though it was a bitter one at best. The poison had hurt the parasite, but not killed it. As long as we kept a decent amount of the stuff flowing through her veins, it would keep the creature out of her circulatory system. It had split itself and fled into the farthest corners of her body. It was slowly but surely draining her, though it would never have the capacity to do as it had before.


    ¡°How are your essence reserves?¡± I asked suddenly.


    She looked inward once again before opening her eyes and looking at me, ¡°Dropping slower than before, but still draining. With proper supplementation, I should survive for another two months. It has steadily been leeching my essence from the moment I was infected, the consumption growing larger as time passed. Soon, its rate of extraction will outpace any method of replacement.¡±


    This was completely beyond anything I had prepared for. Tylee had asked for my help, and I had failed to deliver. Worse yet, I had caused something in the parasite to change. Megaine was awake, but that was about all that could be said for the woman¡¯s health.


    ¡°Can I try examining you?¡± I asked.


    She nodded in assent and I did a basic physical exam on her. I worked as professionally as possible, but her severe gaze on me made me slightly jumpy. As I had suspected, there was nothing wrong with her body. When I was done, she made a twirling gesture with her finger. I obliged her by standing to face the door. The rustle of sheets and soft padding of feet let me know that she was moving.


    ¡°You are rather bold Master Dyre.¡± She commented, the sound of a drawer opening indicating her intent, ¡°To speak as freely as you do with my sister.¡±


    ¡°Bold enough to tell you that you should still be in bed.¡± I replied.


    ¡°I am dying Ethan,¡± She said, my name harsh on her lips, ¡°The only difference is that now I can expend the last of my days for the sake of my family, rather than as an invalid. For that, I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life.¡±


    She didn¡¯t elaborate on how short that life would be. I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised at the bitterness in her voice.


    ¡°Button me up.¡± She demanded, stepping in front of me, the back of a simple blue and white dress laying open before me.


    I obeyed without comment as she held her long hair before herself. When I finished, she turned to face me.


    ¡°You will pretend that you were able to cure me.¡± She said, it was not request.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that to Tyle-¡° I started.


    ¡°Forget your foolish belief that you can save the world,¡± She cut me off, ¡°There are many things that I need to do before I accept the embrace of the goddess. If she believes that I am half as weak as I am, Tylee will not permit me to do what is necessary. She could not stop me, but her efforts would harm her future irrevocably.¡±


    Her eyes flashed dangerously as she looked into my eyes, ¡°If I can do as much, it should not be a difficult thing to ask of you. Do what is necessary Ethan Dyre, or I will tell my sister that you are a rogue white mage.¡±


    I stepped back in shock.


    ¡°I have been meditating, not sleeping.¡± She said, closing the gap between us, ¡°I know what it feels like to be touched by white magic. We both have secrets Ethan. I will keep yours if you will keep mine.¡±


    She loomed over me, despite that fact that I was actually taller than her. I had thought Tylee was a formidable person. Megaine Arefina was a true monster.


    I nodded my assent. She watched me for a short while, then nodded in return.


    ¡°When I am gone,¡± She said, ¡°Comfort my sister.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t stop looking for a cure.¡± I shot back.


    She shook her head and I saw a note of sadness creep past her icy calm, ¡°You may do as you wish Ethan, but know that I will not wait patiently in bed for you to bring me salvation. You have bought me time, and I do not intend to waste it on something as frivolous as hope for a second miracle.¡±


    She turned and swept out of the room. As joyous cries filled the manor, I felt a deep sense of emptiness. Of that night, I remember two things in particular. Tylee, after lavishing her sister with attention, found me in a corner. I guiltily turned my eyes away from hers. I can only assume that she didn¡¯t see the lie in me because of her own joy.


    She gave me a hug that would have crushed one of the mundane servants, leaving me gasping. Stepping back, she held my hands and finally managed to get our gazes to meet.


    ¡°Thank you, friend Ethan.¡± She whispered, her eyes lit from within, ¡°I will always treasure you for this.¡±


    I felt wretched. Tylee¡¯s joy was a fraud, and so was I.


    Before the night wound down, I remember meeting Megaine¡¯s eyes one last time. She had answered my occasional looks with a level gaze. This last time though, she dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement.


    When I returned to my room, the last sample of the parasite that I had collected and any notes not already transcribed into my grimoire were gone, along with any lingering hope I had of saving Tylee¡¯s sister.


    I did not sleep that night.

 Set Adrift

    The next morning I found Tylee waiting for me at the breakfast table. I was pleasantly surprised to find that bacon, eggs, and even the venerable art of making toast were all parts of a nutritious, if prohibitively expensive Esturian breakfast. Staying in the house of a noble had some perks which I was growing used to. I was not sure how I felt about that.


    ¡°Somebody took the parasite,¡± I told her, sitting down, ¡°And my notes.¡±


    Tylee paused, then set down her fork, ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°Last night I went to my room and found them missing,¡± I explained, ¡°Somebody in your household is not entirely loyal.¡±


    Something very dangerous flashed in Tylee¡¯s eyes, ¡°I will make sure to find this traitor, and question them personally.¡±


    ¡°No need to bother sister.¡± Megaine said, interrupting us as she stepped into the dining room, ¡°I have already dismissed several members of the staff. They are being searched right now.¡±


    Tylee turned her hot gaze on Megaine, ¡°You will soon regain your title as the daughter-heir, but until then, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from issuing orders which should be reserved for me alone.¡±


    Megaine did not respond. Instead, she marched up to stand beside her sister. She slid a piece of paper she had been carrying in her hands over in front of me. I glanced down at it, then felt understanding settle in.


    ¡°Are you prepared to witness this?¡± Megaine asked me, ¡°As a representative of the Alchemists¡¯ Guild?¡±


    I sighed, ¡°Yes.¡±


    Without further ado, Megain dropped to a knee before her sister.


    ¡°No!¡± Tylee tried to interrupt her.


    ¡°I hereby renounce my right to claim leadership of the house of Arefina,¡± Megaine said formally, pushing through her sister¡¯s continued complaints, ¡°I swear upon my power and my life, that I will faithfully uphold you, Tylee Arefina, as the future lawful head of our house. In life or in death, I will serve my kin.¡±


    A servant appeared next to me with a quill and ink. I glanced at Tylee, who had a pained expression on her face. She was looking down at her sister with eyes that held betrayal. Tylee had wanted to heal her sister for many reasons. But one of the most important ones, was the fact that she would have been able to pass the title of daughter-heir on to her sister.


    That was impossible now.


    I signed the document and handed it to the servant. He bowed and left. Probably to get copies.


    Megaine seated herself opposite me, taking the position on Tylee¡¯s right.


    ¡°Master Dyre,¡± She said, ¡°While it has been lovely having you with us, I believe that you have studies to attend to?¡±


    ¡°I think the issue with the parasite is a little more pressing.¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Megaine said, raising an eyebrow at me, ¡°You are a spy then?¡±


    I grimaced, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then I think, at least for now, it would be best if you continued your work on becoming an alchemico,¡± She said, ¡°Arefina will need strong allies to rely on in the future. An alchemist of your caliber is already a potent force, but an alchemico of the collegium¡­¡±


    ¡°Tylee?¡± I asked.


    Tylee turned her gaze on me, still in a mild daze from the events of moments before, ¡°Yes, I believe that that is probably for the best right now.¡±


    XXXXXX


    Set aside by the Arefinas for now, I decided that my best course of action would be to try attending the collegium. You know, the reason why I came here in the first place. For those of you pursuing higher education, I strongly encourage you to show up for classes with small lecture halls. The professors notice when you have been absent.


    ¡°Master Dyre,¡± Alchemico Byar addressed me, ¡°Would you care to share the insights you discovered from your reading of Binzhamin¡¯s Alchemy Basics?¡±


    I had made sure to find a spot in the middle of the class. If you are in any academic situation where you fear the ire of your instructor, the middle is your best bet. They can see you in the front row, and the back row is always composed of those would rather not be there, or who are likely to cause trouble. Sometimes both.


    I stood from the bench which I shared with four other students, and their looks told me that they were all glad to have been spared the hawk-eyed gaze of their instructor.


    ¡°Alchemico,¡± I said levelly, my recent experience having robbed me of any diffidence, ¡°I am afraid that I was unable to finish the assigned text.¡±


    I heard sniggering from somewhere behind me and fought to keep my face under control. The majority of the students here were the younger progeny of nobility who did not possess great souls. Many of whom I was certain had never seen the inside of an alchemist¡¯s shop.


    In short, because of where I was from, I had been placed in the amateur class. No, that wasn¡¯t right. I had been placed in the remedial class for amateurs. I was far more humiliated by this insult than I was by the fact that somebody was laughing at my discomfort. Of course, it all paled in comparison to the weight that settled on my heart when I remembered what Megaine¡¯s fate would be.


    ¡°It appears as if you have had a week to peruse the library Master Dyre,¡± The man said, his gaze sharpening, ¡°Am I to assume that you are not actually interested in the study of alchemy?¡±


    I looked deep into his eyes and felt only coldness in my heart. The man was a firebrother at least, as indicated by the creeping halo of red which was slowly invading his otherwise brown eyes. Instead of the contempt I expected, I saw that this man was challenging me for a reason other than to humiliate me. I decided to take a gamble on him.


    ¡°To be honest Alchemico,¡± I responded, relishing the chance to lash out at something, even if it was just a long dead alchemico, ¡°Binzhamin¡¯s analysis of the fundamentals of alchemy is deeply flawed. I stopped reading three weeks ago when he claimed that a sufficient dose of curall alone could serve as a universal curative. In my experience, curall is definitely an essential component of every curative we make, but its properties alone would not be able to produce an efficacious cure for monster poison.¡±


    The auditorium was deathly quiet. Watching Alchemico Byar, I saw his stern gaze morph into a beaming smile.


    ¡°Thank you, Master Dyre,¡± He said, ¡°You may be seated. The rest of you should take heed of Master Dyre¡¯s words¡­¡±


    I sighed as the lecture continued, and the students near me edged away slightly. I had been attending classes for less than an hour, and I was already being singled out by my fellow students. After class was finished, Alchemico Byar motioned for me to approach his dais. I did so hesitantly.


    ¡°Alchemico?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting a whole week waiting to see if anyone else would read that waste of paper,¡± He said, his tone conversational, ¡°I was convinced that I would have to wait even longer before anybody noticed that Binzhamin probably had more money than brains. Nobody outside of this room bothers to even crack the spine of that windbag¡¯s work.¡±


    I blinked in confusion, ¡°Then why have us read it?¡±


    He chuckled, ¡°That¡¯s the secret. Fundamentals of Alchemy isn¡¯t a class for teaching alchemy. It¡¯s a gate through which all of our hopeful alchemicos must pass. 90% of your class will be continuing on in the apprentice track. They are here because they couldn¡¯t get a master to take them on for one reason or another and they had the money to pay. Members of branch noble houses mostly. Few of them will ever make it past journeyman status, but the college always needs more brewers.¡±


    ¡°You do know that I had a letter of recommendation from my master, right?¡± I asked, feeling a little irked.


    He chuckled, ¡°At least half of the class also have recommendations. Some people don¡¯t understand that you can¡¯t buy your way to the top of the collegia. Well, I guess that¡¯s not true, but you can¡¯t do it by bribing a master alchemist.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°So¡­¡± My brain scrambled, ¡°Binzhamin¡¯s book is just there to make sure that we actually know alchemy?¡±


    He snapped his fingers, ¡°You¡¯re a sharp one. Though you¡¯ve adequately removed that hurdle for your classmates with your words. I had assumed that you were some kind of delinquent after you failed to show for your first week. Now I see that I was wrong. Any particular reason why you couldn¡¯t make it?¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°I accidentally killed someone with alchemy.¡±


    Alchemico Byar¡¯s eyebrows rose, ¡°It was nobody important I hope.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not dead yet,¡± I said, ¡°But she will be soon. It¡¯s okay, she was going to die anyway. She can move around now at least. For all that that is worth.¡±


    ¡°In any case,¡± He said, ¡°Now that you¡¯ve proven that you¡¯re not a complete dunce, I would like to invite you to attend the theory of alchemy class.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, ¡°Really?¡±


    He nodded, ¡°And don¡¯t worry about coming back to this horse and duck show. By now, there is not likely to be any more future alchemicos hiding amongst your peers. I¡¯ll be starting with real fundamentals. You¡¯re clearly beyond that.¡±


    Alchemico Byar gave me the details of where the real class met. I thanked him and left, but not before he handed me a short reading list, which he assured me was filled with books that would actually help me with my alchemical understanding. I hoped that they would distract me or give me some insight on how to cure Megaine. I had not yet given up hope in that direction, even if she had.


    The only other class that I had for the first four weeks of my time at the Collegia was practical alchemy. Alchemica Thyrra was a harsh taskmistress, but I did learn several more variations on the minor strength and agility elixirs. On one particular day, I felt bold enough to get her attention as she passed by.


    ¡°Alchemica?¡± I asked the petite, elderly woman.


    She turned towards me. Her green eyes were shot through with veins of blue, indicating a life spent with a modest water affinity.


    ¡°Master Dyre?¡± She addressed me.


    ¡°I was wondering if you could explain to me why it is that we have so many recipes for elixirs that are essentially the same thing.¡± I said, ¡°A level one elixir is a level one elixir no matter what. How can we get the same results from such a wide array of ingredients?¡±


    She rubbed her chin as she regarded me, ¡°I see that Byar has been putting ideas in your head in that advanced theory class.¡±


    I gave her a weak grin, ¡°Alchemico Byar is quite exuberant in his lectures.¡±


    She snorted, ¡°Byar is obsessed with theory at the expense of practicality. His theories are quite lovely to listen to, but at the end of the day, your job is to make elixirs, potions, curatives, and the occasional poison, all which will ensure that essence continues to flow into the kingdom.¡±


    ¡°But if we could-¡° I tried.


    She cut me off with a slash of her open hand through the air, ¡°Save your theories for Byar. Here, I intend to teach you the best techniques for brewing.¡±


    She stepped up to my table and looked down at the flask of finished product. Leaning down, she sniffed it, then used a finger to withdraw a drop and taste it. Looking up at me, she gave me a grudging nod.


    ¡°You are a talented alchemist Master Dyre,¡± She said, ¡°Your status as a gray mage is apparent in all that you do, but you still lack a mastery of many of the basics. How many measures of essence did you use in this?¡±


    ¡°Two.¡± I replied instantly.


    She nodded, ¡°I could do it with one and a half.¡±


    I blinked in surprise, ¡°How?¡±


    She reached out to my bench and picked up a helsblood root, ¡°Why does helsblood only grow in the broken lands?¡±


    ¡°Because that is where there is sufficient magic for it to develop properly.¡± I responded.


    ¡°Does this leaf contain essence?¡± She asked, holding it out to me.


    Warily, I took the leaf and examined it, ¡°Theoretically?¡±


    She shook her head sadly, ¡°You and your theories. Just put it against your forehead.¡±


    I made sure to keep it far from there, ¡°It¡¯s unpurified!¡±


    She snorted, ¡°A little recreational essence never hurt anyone.¡±


    I shook my head vehemently, ¡°I disagree Alchemica, respectfully. I have seen plenty of babblers.¡±


    She grunted something and swiped the leaf from my hands, bringing it to her own forehead. I watched in sick fascination as a look of ecstasy washed over her face for a moment. When her eyes opened, there was faint purple hue to her sclerae, which faded quickly.


    ¡°Stop wasting the intrinsic power inside of your materials alchemist.¡± She instructed me, ¡°When you can do the things I teach, exactly as I teach them, you will be able to squeeze the last drop out of everything which you lay hands upon. You¡¯re not some two-bit herbalist, you¡¯re an alchemist!¡±


    I lowered my head and nodded, ¡°Yes Alchemica.¡±


    She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat and moved on. I redoubled my efforts.


    I continued my work with inscription and enchanting, along with my work on Tylee¡¯s sword, although that was usually done during the time which I spent working with Derrick at his forge. In all honesty, I had forgotten what I had told Tylee about bringing the blade to me once a week. Apparently, she had not.


    In the past week I had grown to love blacksmithing. It seemed that the more I sweated, the more I was able to forget the eyes of the dead woman in the Arefina household.


    ¡°There¡¯s a girl here to see you Ethan.¡± Derrick yelled from the front.


    I quenched the latest in a long line of horseshoes which I had been working and stepped out into the main shop.


    ¡°Master Dyre!¡± Raila called over the sound of Derrick¡¯s hammer, ¡°Lady Arefina sent me with this!¡±


    She held a long, wrapped bundle in her arms. A bundle which hummed as soon as I laid eyes on it. It must have been an inaudible hum, because Raila did not react to it.


    I held out my hands, ¡°I can take it. Should be ready in a half hour.¡±


    She shook her head, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I was instructed to keep it in my sight at all times.¡±


    I sighed, ¡°Tylee realizes that I am the only one who will be handling it, right?¡±


    ¡°My lady has become especially protective of this weapon,¡± Raila confided, leaning in close, ¡°She keeps it next to her bed.¡±


    I sighed, ¡°Warrior-nuns¡­¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡± Raila asked.


    ¡°Any messages for me?¡± I asked, taking the sword bundle from her hands.


    ¡°Lady Megaine sends her regards,¡± Raila said, ¡°And wants you to keep your nose out of house business. She will inform you when your services are required.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± I grumbled.


    This was not the first time I had received such a message. Megaine was scheming, and it was apparent that she thought I would only be in the way right now. I had already tried to pick up leads at the Adventurers¡¯ Guild, but to no avail. Nobody had heard of the strange parasite that had infected Megaine. I had not given up my search yet, but I had hit a wall.


    I stepped into the back of the shop and began the work of caring for the blade. At this point, the act was almost a formality. I had done this twice while staying at the Arefina estate, and the song of the blade was just as strong as I could remember it being there. I wondered briefly if the magic were sinking in more permanently.


    ¡°Who¡¯s your girlfriend?¡± Came an inquisitive voice.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re supposed to be helping your mother, Miriam.¡± I muttered over the scrape of the blade across stone.


    ¡°The shop¡¯s dead and I¡¯m bored.¡± The girl complained, then noticed the silence of my companion.


    My back was turned, but I could practically smell the wicked gleam in her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re not really his girlfriend, are you?¡± I heard Miriam ask.


    ¡°Of course not!¡± Raila responded indignantly, though I could tell she had been surprised by the question by the slight rise in her voice.


    I sighed, ¡°Could you go bother someone else? Raila works hard enough for the Arefinas, she doesn¡¯t need you pestering her.¡±


    ¡°Arefina¡­¡± Miriam mused, then brightened, ¡°That white-haired lady who came by the other week and kidnapped you!¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t kidnapped!¡± I growled, ¡°I was helping a friend!¡±


    ¡°Mom says that boys can¡¯t be friends with pretty girls.¡± Miriam said definitively.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain she said that to keep you from spending the night at Herschel¡¯s house.¡± I noted dryly, pushing magic into Tylee¡¯s sword.


    ¡°Take that back!¡± Miriam yelled.


    I tested the edge of the blade, then moved to the small bench Derrick had set up for me. I removed some oils which I had been experimenting with. I hesitated with the selection for a moment, then chose one which I had infused with ruklik cerebrospinal fluid. Rukliks, as far as I could tell, were some form of burrowing rodent which had been Awakened into a horror that had a tendency to pull whole adventurers through the ground before ravaging them.


    ¡°Are you ignoring me?¡± Miriam spoke from behind me.


    ¡°I¡¯m working,¡± I said absently, ¡°Your mother loves you very much and doesn¡¯t want to see your heart broken by someone like Herschel. He just wants to know what it would be like to kiss you. His thoughts might even extend to something more¡­ invasive. As someone who used to be a teenage boy, I can attest that the possibility is more than likely.¡±


    A click of teeth preceded a prolonged silence from the girl. I had chosen Ruklik oil because of its affinity for geomancy. Tylee was a powerful geomancer, and my working theory was that if I could put a weapon into her hands which was designed to handle her full strength, she would be a nigh unstoppable force.


    Of course, I still barely understood the process which the blade was undergoing while in my care.


    My work with the blade was quickly finished and I turned to find Miriam and Raila talking quietly in a corner of my small workspace. I shrugged and moved to return the sword to the maid. She accepted it, and was about to sheathe it when Derrick walked in.


    ¡°May I take a look at that?¡± He asked.


    Raila glanced at me and, after receiving a nod of confirmation, held the weapon out to him. We followed Derrick out to the main area. He took a few experimental swings and nodded thoughtfully.


    ¡°It¡¯s an excellent weapon for a geomancer,¡± He noted, ¡°A bit too heavy for anyone else, but with great strength, it would be deadly.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not finished yet.¡± I said, listening to the blade¡¯s passage through the air.


    ¡°Oh?¡± He asked, ¡°What else do you have in mind for it?¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure, but I still feel like there is something missing.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s as fine a weapon as I have ever seen,¡± Derrick said, ¡°But I only forge blades, I don¡¯t enchant them. I¡¯ll leave that to your expert opinion.¡±


    He handed the weapon to Raila, who paid him several silvers. She gave me a one-handed curtsey and departed. I couldn¡¯t blame her for wanting to get away quickly. Miriam watched her speculatively, but before I could think about that, I felt Derrick¡¯s large hand drop onto my shoulder.


    ¡°How is your own forging going?¡± He asked.


    As promised, Derrick had been teaching me the art of bladecraft before my little hiatus, and ever since then. While I was making some headway, the weapons I was producing were¡­ lackluster. Although I had made a knife which I felt was passable.


    I retrieved the knife and showed it to him.


    He looked it over, then rapped his anvil with the blunt end a few times, ¡°Looks decent, though I really think you should work with some steel instead of this iron. This is likely to break under stress.¡±


    ¡°Iron is much cheaper,¡± I pointed out, ¡°I also want to formulate my own steel recipe. I¡¯ve been experimenting with some alchemical techniques and ingredients. The results are promising so far.¡±


    Derrick nodded thoughtfully, then handed the knife back, ¡°That should be good enough as a personal blade, although it¡¯s a little long for such.¡±


    ¡°I like long knives.¡± I replied, then went back to work.


    I don¡¯t think Derrick was entirely convinced by that, but he let it lie. I knew there was someone out there who was infecting great souls with a parasite. Having a knife at hand made me feel a little safer, though it probably shouldn¡¯t have.

 A Great Fall

    ¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that Drabby?¡± I heard a voice say, shattering the silence of the library.


    I looked up, spotting two young men from fundamentals of alchemy. They had a girl with them whose red robe was emblazoned with the emblem of the Collegia Magico. The red halo converging on her pupils let me know that she was at least an inferno, but not quite a great soul.


    The young man who had pointed me out had dark brown eyes. I briefly considered using the alignment spell to find out exactly how weak he was, but decided to forebear.


    ¡°Raylen.¡± I addressed him.


    He looked surprised at that. I only knew his name because he was the perpetrator of my nickname. I didn¡¯t like him, and I generally remember the people I don¡¯t like. I probably should have tried being more diplomatic. It was just so hard to do with people who fit the classical textbook definition of a bully.


    ¡°Hey,¡± He said, recovering, ¡°We were going to blow off studying for a bit and head down to the commons. Nothing like slumming it to feel alive. Say¡­ you probably know a thing or two about that. Want to join us?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I said, going back to my notes.


    ¡°Come on Drabby.¡± He coaxed, his hand coming down on my book.


    ¡°Move your hand.¡± I said, looking up at his grinning face, ¡°I am working on a matter of life or death.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something really interesting I want to show you.¡± He said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not into guys.¡± I said flatly, hoping to either provoke a fight, or get him to leave.


    He looked confused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes, ¡°You litt-¡°


    ¡°What about monsters?¡± The woman, more a girl really, piped up, ¡°I heard that you studied in Vern. I bet you know a thing or two about them.¡±


    That piqued my interest. I looked up at her and saw that there was a light behind her eyes that might have been a trickle of ignited fire magic. That was an extremely dangerous thing to be doing in a library. Not to mention that fact that holding ignited magic within your body put strain on your soul. It was a mid-level control technique, but usually only used while meditating in a stone room.


    This girl was either stupidly reckless or had a high level of magical control. Considering that she hadn¡¯t set anything on fire, I was more inclined to believe the latter. Though I was not yet ready to discount the former. Her speech fit the bill of someone who would spend time with Raylen, but I was confused as to why a Collegia Magico student would be hanging out with him. Alchemists were generally looked down on by the students from that school. The alchemists in turn generally looked down on the Collegia Academico students.


    I made it a point to avoid disparaging the scholars of the more mundane arts. Where I came from, people had accomplished wonders that would make even a great soul gape in wonder. Pound for pound, a mage was just better than a normal human. Human intuition and ingenuity however, were more potent than even the mightiest of great works. My memories were proof of that.


    ¡°What kind of monsters?¡± I asked.


    Raylen looked around, then, seeing that we were alone, leaned in, ¡°The kind that fight, for money.¡±


    Monsters fighting for money? What kind of monster would fight for money? I was intrigued.


    ¡°They fight for money?¡± I asked incredulously.


    ¡°Not the monsters,¡± Raylen growled, ¡°Betting.¡±


    Oh. Fantasy cock-fighting. Got it.


    I was about to dismiss him out of turn, then paused. Raylen was offering me an opportunity here. Tylee had contacted me once more in the time that I had been away. Her efforts to uncover the origins of the parasite had proven ineffective. I was getting desperate, and monster fights sounded just like the place where I could develop some less than savory contacts.


    A ring like that would be bringing monsters into the city somehow. They might even know of a recent shipment of a certain parasite which had been used on Megaine.


    I needed to go. It might even miff Megaine when I was able to discover a useful lead before she did. Purely an incidental pleasure though.


    ¡°Alright.¡± I said, shutting my book and gathering my notes, ¡°Let¡¯s go see some monsters tear each other apart.¡±


    Raylen grinned, ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.


    There was something ugly behind his eyes.


    Well Raylen, you¡¯re not the only one around here who can do ugly.


    I extracted some silver and gold pennies from my bag, along with my staff and a speed potion, before handing the precious item to Master Norry for safe keeping. The man had become livelier and twice as stealthy now that his joints no longer hurt. The man was a jig-dancing ninja assassin. Nothing would convince me otherwise.


    He looked askance at the three other students, but I shook my head, indicating that I didn¡¯t need his help. He sighed and rolled his eyes at my youthful foolishness. I summoned up a smile, just for him.


    My smiles were rare these days.


    ¡°I believe that we are going to do something called ¡®slumming,¡¯¡± I provided him with an air of false innocence, ¡°If I¡¯m not back in a couple days, send out the hounds.¡±


    Master Norry frowned at me. Apparently I wasn¡¯t very amusing. Or maybe sending out the hounds has a different connotation on Esturia¡­


    I checked my belt, where I kept the ten-centimeter knife which I had forged. Ten centimeters was about as far as I could go without making people wonder why I needed a machete in order to cut food. A knife could go places that a sword never could. A walking stick also had this benefit. The two would be a nasty surprise to anyone who thought they could mug me.


    My companions, having secured my agreement to come, promptly left me trailing in their wake. I didn¡¯t mind so much, there was nothing I really wanted to hear from the trio. I wasn¡¯t here for their company, just their connections.


    A half-hour passed and we came to stand before a seedy tavern. A sign hanging askew in one window announced it as The Plentiful Flagon. I suspected that the only plentiful thing in this establishment would be fleas.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The warmth and sickly smell of the common room left me a little dizzy. The Rusty Bucket had not smelled half this bad on its worst day. I suspected that this place would only become worse as the night went on and men began drinking in earnest. As it was, the only patrons I saw were those with yellow eyes and jaundiced skin, indicative of advanced liver disease. The hollowness of their gazes was matched only by the broken aura that seemed to roll off of them. These were professional drinkers.


    Raylen spoke to the barkeep, who nodded to the side. The man himself was a brute, and probably served double duty as a bouncer when things got rough. Of course, it was more than likely he was also employed by the fighting ring to watch the entrance. I didn¡¯t envy any of his three jobs.


    We descended through a trapdoor into a place that, surprisingly, smelled less foul than the tavern above. As we dropped into the earth, I began to hear something that sounded like moving water. As we drew closer, I began to realize that it wasn¡¯t a river I was hearing.


    It was a crowd.


    My eyes adjusted slowly to the smoky light cast by dozens of torches which lined a large, square cage at the center of the crowd. Two barred walkways led into the cage, and the hideous roaring I heard from inside the roughly thirty square meter space let me know that there was a fight going on.


    ¡°This is great, don¡¯t you think?¡± Raylen crowed in my ear, his eyes alight with a flame shared only by madmen and those suffering from heavy fevers.


    I continued to watch without responding. It looked like they had captured a hellhound and were pitting it against a myisa. Hellhounds were a type of awakened dog, while a myisa was a large cobra. It¡¯s hood had expanded to the point where, if it so wished, it could have wrapped entirely around the hound.


    I heard Rylen lay down a bet on the myisa. It was certainly the larger of the creatures. I was unconvinced of its dominance though. Hellhound salivary glands can be used to make a level three frost resistance potion. I suddenly wondered if I would be able to make an oil infused with its power.


    The myisa struck with blinding speed, but the hellhound leapt to the left, its red eyes blazing with fury and hunger. With a howl, I felt the telltale tingle of essence being ignited. Interesting, I had never seen a monster using essence in person before. It made sense of course, the creatures were filled to the brim with the stuff. I would have been more surprised if there were no monsters which used essence.


    With a chuffing sound that rose quickly into a retching gurgle, the hellhound vomited a mass of black ooze onto the myisa. My eyes narrowed at that, I was almost sure that it would-


    The myisa¡¯s shriek was unearthly, and the crowd was suddenly more concentrated on clapping their hands over their ears than cheering. I followed the flow, keeping my eyes on the cage. The viscous material which had hit the myisa had begun to smoke. That was probably a bad sign.


    I put several bodies between myself and the myisa before crouching low.


    With a deafening boom, the hellhound¡¯s vomit exploded, causing a cacophony of screeches to emerge from the front of the crowd. I counted my lucky stars that I had retained enough of my senses to duck for cover.


    Remember kids, safety first in the lab. Especially when working with magically enhanced nightmares.


    The clamor died down as the wounded, along with some possibly dead victims, were dragged away. The remains of the myisa were pulled from the cage as the hellhound, now sated from gorging on its victim, was herded back down the steel-clad passageway through which it had come.


    ¡°That was amazing!¡± Raylen yelled in my ear.


    I hope you fail all of your tests.


    ¡°Where do they get the monsters?¡± I asked, trying to curb his enthusiasm for the blood sport.


    I will admit to a certain amount of fascination with the fight, but I was more concerned with the logistics behind smuggling live monsters all the way from the Broken Lands. If the hellhound was any indication, there would be great peril posed by the monsters themselves for any captors, let alone the dangers of being caught bringing such monstrosities into the Sunrise Lands. I imagined the penalty of such was nothing short of a quick drop and a sudden stop.


    I let my mind follow that thought. I hadn¡¯t even heard a whisper of this kind of thing, yet it seemed to be an established operation, catering to the desires of certain types of people. People like Raylen. I glanced over at him as he animatedly discussed the battle with the inferno woman, whose own eyes were bright. If she wasn¡¯t careful, she was going to end up as a babbler.


    If they couldn¡¯t bring monsters in, then the monsters were somehow appearing here. Could the Awakening be active somewhere in Aramor?


    No, that made no sense. There would be reports of monsters. Lots of them. Without any adventurers in the area, there wouldn¡¯t be anybody to keep the population down.


    So that left.


    No.


    That would mean¡­


    ¡°Come on Drabby!¡± Raylen crowedin my ear, grabbing my arm, ¡°I want to introduce you to someone.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡± I said absently, pulling my arm free.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to meet the boss,¡± Raylen said, ¡°It¡¯s protocol.¡±


    I was never one for protocol, but then again, I did want to make a connection. This might be just what I needed.


    Raylen led me through the crowd and up to a dais which held a chair that resembled nothing less than a throne. Upon this throne sat a sickly pale man, whose frame might have been charitably compared to a scarecrow. His eyes were dark as midnight, and I got the eerie feeling that he could see straight through me. In fact, when he leveled those eyes at me, I was certain of it.


    ¡°Boss!¡± Raylen called, waving at the man.


    A look of annoyance crossed his face as his gaze shifted from me to the young man leading me.


    ¡°I-I mean, Master Solus.¡± Raylen corrected, his shift in tone noticeable.


    Well, that interaction was worrisome.


    I took a chance on courtesy and bowed to the man, ¡°Master Solus.¡±


    The man inclined his head to me, then gave a dismissive wave to Raylen.


    The young man started to protest, but a rather muscular man with silver eyes stepped up. He handed Raylen a small pouch. My erstwhile compatriot looked inside, his face lighting up at whatever was inside. He allowed himself to be led away after that.


    ¡°You have something you want to ask me.¡± Solus said, gesturing behind me, ¡°Please, sit.¡±


    I looked behind me, only to find that the hulking man, or perhaps another like him, had appeared bearing a simple wooden chair. I complied with his request.


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± I asked, trying my best to think in two directions at once.


    ¡°Raylen is an idiot,¡± Solus said, ¡°You, Ethan Dyre, are much too smart to be spending time with him without some ulterior motive. So, I ask you, what is it you want from me? I suggest that you don¡¯t make me ask again.¡±


    The indifference in his tone was frankly more terrifying than any amount of passion would have been.


    ¡°I was hoping to make contact with someone who is familiar with activities that might be¡­¡± I hesitated, ¡°Less than legal.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called crime.¡± Solus said, ¡°Double talk is only interesting in stories, it just makes you sound foolish in the real world. Tell me what you want, and I will make my offer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for a monster.¡± I said.


    He gestured to the cage behind me, ¡°I am in possession of many monsters. Anything in particular?¡±


    ¡°A parasite,¡± I said, ¡°It would have been brought into the city about three months ago. It infects and drains a mage of their essence until they die. The effects are worse when they ignite essence into magic.¡±


    He leaned back, stroking his smooth chin, ¡°What you are looking for. It¡¯s not exactly what we would call a monster.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it?¡± I asked.


    The look in his eyes made me wonder whether I really wanted to know.


    ¡°Do you know how to kill a god?¡± Solus asked, his eyes glinting, ¡°Because the thing you are looking for, is nothing less than a fragment of the body of a murdered deity.¡±


    I suddenly felt like I had been pulled into something far larger than a simple plot to exterminate a great house.


    ¡°I think I need to leave.¡± I said, trying to rise.


    A heavy hand fell on my shoulder and Solus spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be possible,¡± He said, ¡°It was very kind of you to deliver yourself into my hands. It saves me so much time when I don¡¯t have to hunt people down. First, I would like to know what your association with the house of Arefina is. After that, we can discuss your peculiar affinity. I¡¯ve always wanted to test the boundaries of a gray mage.¡±


    With a flare of power, I drove myself up from the chair, my dagger coming free of its sheath. I spun, slashing out with the weapon, only to find it blocked by a similar weapon held by the guard. He smelled like strangely flavored earth magic.


    Before I could strike again, the guard¡¯s weapon flashed forward. I intercepted the blow. The weapons sparked for a moment, then to my utter surprise, the dagger which I had forged with my own hands and imbued with my will, shattered.


    I had a moment to marvel at my own shoddy craftsmanship before something very much like a railroad spike drove itself into the back of my brain, toppling me into unconsciousness.

 Black and White

    I awoke to the feeling of someone¡¯s hands patting down my clothing. Opening my eyes, I groggily tried to push those hands away.


    ¡°You have some!¡± I heard a voice hiss, ¡°I know it, give it to me!¡±


    My eyes focused in the dim light which filtered from an unknown source. I could faintly make out an emaciated, vaguely human form. I groggily focused some essence into my eyes and saw that I knew this person. It was the white mage who had greeted me several weeks ago upon first arriving in the city of Aramor. The intervening time had not been kind to her.


    While her skin had the perfect smoothness of a white magic practitioner, her eyes had clouded almost completely white, leaving only a pinprick of black where her pupil should be. With the level of darkness around us, I would have expected her pupils to be dilated.


    ¡°How did you get here?¡± I muttered, holding my head as I spoke.


    Whatever had taken me down had left me with a splitting headache.


    Ignoring me, the white mage spoke, ¡°I can heal you! I just need essence!¡±


    She gave a short, high pitched cackle at that, her body suddenly shivering at the mere thought of the stuff. She shuffled up close to me, where I could smell the unexpectedly fresh scent of her breath. I guess tooth decay doesn¡¯t happen to white mages either. Whoever was keeping her here was supplying her with essence, or her body would have started to deteriorate by now. Based on the thinness of her frame, she was probably no longer eating. It would only be a matter of time until she simply ran out of materials to keep the rest going.


    ¡°I won¡¯t do that.¡± I muttered, pushing her away.


    Her expression went from pleading to angry in a moment. With a hiss that would not have been unusual coming from an alley cat, she jumped on me, then began laying into me with her jagged nails. I eventually managed to push her off of me, but not before I had several marks on my face.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you!¡± She screamed as I gripped her hands, saliva spraying at me.


    ¡°Stop that!¡± I roared back, slamming her into the ground.


    Her eyes fogged from the impact. I briefly wondered if I had given her a concussion, only to be disabused of that notion as her eyes focused on me again. Rather than anger this time, I saw something far less appealing in her eyes.


    ¡°Oh,¡± She said huskily, ¡°This is fine too.¡±


    With a move that I didn¡¯t want to imagine how she had become so practiced at, she lithely swept a leg around my torso and used the leverage to position herself beneath me. I was still holding her hands, but I suddenly felt like I was no longer the one in control of this situation.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± She crooned, ¡°You can be as rough as you want. As long as I get what I want after we¡¯re done, it won¡¯t leave a mark.¡±


    I stared at her for a moment, then her suggestion clicked. She must have been watching, because the moment the shock of her suggestion registered, she kicked me off of her with manic strength. I tumbled for a moment, then fetched up against the cell wall.


    She was up in a moment, crawling towards me with a hungry look in her eyes. I had been locked in a cage with a babbler.


    I held up my hands, ¡°Stop!¡±


    ¡°Give it to me!¡± She demanded, drawing closer.


    I contemplated my options. Though she was wasted, I had no illusions about our relative physical strengths. Babblers lose a lot of the inhibitions that make us human in their pursuit of essence. Driven by something beyond muscle alone, I had once seen an especially desperate creature break an adventurer¡¯s arm when he refused to hand over some of the essence he had just brought into town. The adventurer had been a geomancer.


    I came to the conclusion that I could give this woman what she wanted, or she would crack my skull in a hopeless attempt to get her hands on it. I didn¡¯t have any essence on me, but there was plenty inside of me.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said as she drew up to me, ¡°Just¡­ give me a moment.¡±


    Slamming a hand on the wall to my left with a rail-thin arm, she effectively trapped me in the corner I had been thrown into. She leaned forward and I heard her breathing steadily become panting.


    She closed her eyes as I brought my two fingers up to her forehead, a look of expectant ecstasy washing over her features. I let a gentle trickle of essence flow into the starved creature looming over me. Her body began to shudder as I fed her that power. This continued for a minute before finally, unable to bear the expectation any more, she ignited the modest amount of essence I had transferred into her. All but the barest fraction which would keep her body going so that she could find more.


    White magic blazed inside of her. She arched her back, her face turning up towards the ceiling for a long instant, a mewling sort of whimper escaping her lips. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to protect myself with stillness rather than flight. Muscles contracted and relaxed all over her body as I watched, a detached, clinical part of my mind making careful notes.


    With a suddenness that made me worry about her spine, her head snapped forward. As if seeing me for the first time, she hesitated, then threw herself onto me. White magic flooded through my system as she grabbed armfuls of my hair and drove me against the wall, pressing her lips against mine in a parody of a kiss. The flash of pain from the impact was relieved instantly by the magic.


    Filled with that ecstatic power, my soul responded in kind. Almost without my own conscious thought, I ignited a far larger portion of essence into white magic. The slightly different flavors of our powers mingled and the ecstasy doubled. She pulled back, her hands twisting my hair to maintain their firm grip. From her vantage point, she looked deep into my eyes and I suddenly understood on more than an intellectual level how someone could fall this far.


    And I, my own mouth hanging open and my eyes as vacant as hers, wanted desperately to fall with her.


    As I started to tip over the edge of that abyss, a figure came up behind the woman. A hand emerged from the darkness like a striking adder, its fingers getting a firm grip on the babbler¡¯s hair. With a powerful tug, she was dragged backwards off of me. Her grip on my own hair was strong enough that I felt a mild sense of pain as two large clumps of it went with her.


    Howling, the woman was dragged from my cell.


    ¡°No!¡± She screamed, ¡°He is mine! I found him! I want him!¡±


    Her screams devolved into howls as she was brutally thrown into another cell down the hall. For myself, I only remembered to suppress my own white magic as another form came into my vision. I breathed heavily, then began to pull myself up, only to be pinned back to the ground by the guard¡¯s foot.


    ¡°No, no,¡± He a voice rebuked the guard, ¡°Let him up, we have a lot to discuss, and I need Master Dyre in a more comfortable setting where he can answer my questions.¡±


    The guard¡¯s silver eyes watched me like a hawk as I stood, but there was no reason for him to worry. I knew that I was cornered right now. I also knew that if I got the chance, I would end this strange man. I had no illusions about my own chances of surviving this encounter. I would fight to live, but I knew that right now, I was well and truly screwed.


    I¡¯m such an idiot.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Surprisingly, Solus did lead me somewhere more comfortable, rather than the rack and hot irons that I had first imagined. He took a seat across from me and bit down on an apple which he had plucked from the table. My stomach growled and he gestured at the food laid out before us. A continental breakfast if I had ever seen one.


    ¡°Help yourself,¡± He said, ¡°I¡¯m really only interested in talking to you right now.¡±


    I ate ravenously, wondering briefly how long it had been since I was taken.


    ¡°How were the accommodations?¡± He asked lightly.


    I half choked on my food before responding, ¡°You¡¯re a twisted man.¡±


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t like the wake up call.¡± He said, faint edge of amusement in his voice, ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to note that down.¡±


    ¡°What the hell was that!?¡± I growled.


    ¡°A test of sorts,¡± He said, ¡°A little bird recently told me about a geomancer completely drained of essence being able to produce a great work. With a little help from a gray mage of course. I must say that I was a little suspicious, but you proved that little tidbit nicely. Though I¡¯m a little disappointed in the rate of transfer. I was led to believe that the effects were much more spectacular.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother telling him that what I had just done for that white mage was nothing compared to what I could do when pushed. I didn¡¯t want him getting any ideas.


    ¡°Why are you trying to kill Tylee?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Money.¡± He said absently, ¡°Money drives the kingdom of Aramor. I was hired to remove a great house from the political climate. I must say, I was most put out when you decided to kill my pet. I won¡¯t bore you with the details on how much it cost me to procure that thing. It will take a long time and more than a few mages for it grow back to its original strength from that sample you left for me.¡±


    I felt my fists clench, ¡°You bastard.¡±


    He shrugged, ¡°It¡¯s true. My father wasn¡¯t known for his discretion. That is entirely beside the point though. Why is it that you are working for the Arefinas?¡±


    ¡°There is no way I¡¯m going to tell you that.¡± I growled.


    Solus sighed, then met my eyes, ¡°I promise you, if you make me work for this, I will most likely turn your brain to jelly. I¡¯m not the most subtle at the art of reading minds, but I can be very¡­ thorough.¡±


    My stomach dropped out from my body. This man¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t dark naturally. He was a black mage, and based on the color of his eyes, he was a great soul.


    ¡°I-I¡¯ll fight you to the end.¡± I stuttered, my voice cracking.


    I felt a presence being to creep into my mind, like a needle slowly being inserted through my eyeball. Hastily, I channeled essence into my mind to block it, but the power cut through my defenses like a hot knife through butter. As the presence grew more invasive, I felt a pounding start in my head. I could almost visualize the blade that was slowly carving its way into my mind. Every time I wrapped my will around it, it sliced free effortlessly.


    I screamed.


    In desperation, I forced the flow of essence to my brain to stop. I was not certain if this would work, but it was the only thing that my faltering will could conjure up as a defense. A tunnel drew itself in my vision and I felt dizzy.


    Then darkness came.


    XXXXXX


    I awoke to a massive pounding. Wondering briefly why someone was beating down the door to my room. Derrick was far too gentle of a man to consider such hammering, and Miriam was nowhere near strong enough to create such a clamor.


    I opened my eyes, and the bright light seared whatever was left of sleep from my eyes. Slamming them shut, I slowly took inventory of my body. After several moments, I realized that the pounding sound was actually coming from inside of my head. Furthermore, there was a sense of wrongness in my mind, a sense of something have been torn.


    I remembered.


    Groaning, I tapped into my essence and ignited a portion of white magic far larger than I would normally consider safe. I just wanted to feel better, and I honestly didn¡¯t care about side effects right now. Either that, or I was developing a taste for the stuff.


    Relief and bliss washed through me. My headache faded quickly, leaving only a sense of wrongness. It made a cruel sort of sense. The brain is infinitely more complex than any other organ, and I was only an amateur white mage. My magic could heal damage, but I didn¡¯t really understand how to direct it in more than a general sense. On top of that, the mind was an organ which did not normally regenerate itself, I could only assume that this meant the white magic couldn¡¯t just spark life in progenitor cells and let things happen.


    So now, I was an alchemist with brain damage. Fun times all around.


    I suddenly realized that I had been holding onto the white magic for longer than I needed it. With an effort of will, I let it fade. I felt much better, but there was a distinct hollowness to my skin which I knew had nothing to do with physical damage.


    Putting that aside, I pulled myself up. I was once again in my cell. A deep sense of despair welled up inside me. There was no way that I could get out of here, I was trapped.


    Rather than dwell on that despair, I settled down and began to meditate. Being a gray mage, I was unable to practice any advanced forms of meditation. Or, more correctly, I was unaware of any techniques that were useful for developing the control of a gray mage. I had a suspicion that my efforts in making things had proven to have the most effect on my increased control, but I still made it a point to meditate every day.


    Increased control over your magic has several beneficial effects, aside from the obvious one of not ripping holes in your own soul when performing feats requiring large amounts of magic.


    First, a mage with greater control can convert essence more efficiently into magic. I had discovered long ago, that although I did not ignite essence into magic, the act of imbuing items with my will was a similar process, with similar returns based on my level of control.


    The first elixir I had made, a twelve-dose level one agility elixir, had taken almost everything I had. Now, with the control I had learned, I could stretch the same amount of essence into a six-dose, level two agility or strength elixir. Put simply, that was an elixir that made you much stronger, and at a faster rate. The size of a soul is fixed, but the efficiency of magic conversion and level of compression of essence within that same space is not.


    That leads me to the second boon of greater control. The greater control over essence that a mage has, the greater his ability to compact, direct, and otherwise manipulate it is. For most mages, this was a matter of how much essence they could absorb from a phylactery or other exogenous source before they were completely sated. For me the effect was the same, although I hadn¡¯t noticed an appreciable difference in the time which it took for my soul to heal itself.


    Last of all, and probably the most important part of control, was the fact that a mage with higher mastery simply had stronger magic. Magic springs from the soul and is directed and magnified by the mind. Exercising the mind by doing control exercises expands the actual power of projected magic. One of my suspicions about the reason for the lingering magic in Tylee¡¯s sword was that I had developed a much stronger control over my magic since I had first tried enhancing a weapon through simple maintenance.


    Solus was a practitioner of black magic, a magic that targeted the mind directly. If I could increase my control level, there was an ever so slight chance that I would be able to resist him. You know, without having to knock myself out. The fact that I was still alive led me to believe that he could not read my mind while I was unconscious. Otherwise, I probably would have had my mind pilfered and my body dropped into the monster feeding pit.


    Or something like that.


    Time passed as I focused myself inwards, manipulating the flow of essence within my body. When I was finally interrupted, it was Solus again, though this time he had brought a chair with him. Interrogators needed their comforts after all.


    ¡°You should really just let go.¡± Solus said to me.


    I opened my eyes and glared at him, ¡°I¡¯m very stubborn.¡±


    ¡°You know that you are as good as dead,¡± He responded, ¡°Why not make this easier on yourself. In fact, if you were to take certain oaths, I would be willing to let you live. Working for me can be very profitable. I would like to see the true limits of a gray mage.¡±


    Hell no.


    ¡°I¡¯m not interested in joining your menagerie.¡± I growled.


    He motioned to the silver-eyed man behind him, ¡°Do you know what this man¡¯s affinity is?¡±


    ¡°Earth.¡± I replied.


    ¡°Ah, but that¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong.¡± He said, ¡°Martin here has the increasingly rare affinity for steel. It is a specialized subtype of geomancy.¡±


    ¡°And why are you telling me this?¡± I responded, still glaring.


    ¡°I collect curios.¡± Solus said, ¡°A gray mage is almost as rare as a steel mage. When I found Martin, he was nothing more than a low-ranking adventurer who had a serious problem with finding a party to join. I can recognize talent, and I make it a point to nurture that talent. Now, Martin is more than a match for a geomancer of similar power. I can help you become far greater than you could imagine.¡±


    ¡°Like I said,¡± I retorted, ¡°I¡¯m not interested in becoming your pet.¡±


    Solus sighed, then drew himself up. I felt the world around him contract slightly, as if light itself were bending at his presence. Then I smelled the black magic.


    ¡°Submit yourself to me, Ethan Dyre.¡± He said gently.


    I felt his words echo in my mind. I closed my eyes and pushed back against that. Rather than a direct attack, Solus was now trying to bend my will with a form of subtlety. When I opened my eyes, they still had a defiant cast to them. Solus sighed and began talking again.


    My time in his dungeon progressed much that way. He never tried to read my mind again, but he did come and visit me at intervals which were increasingly erratic. Every time we spoke, he would drop little tidbits of information on me, then, with the power of his magic, he would suggest that I just give in.


    The compelling suggestion would fade with time, but in the moments between our sessions together, I realized that I was steadily growing to see his logic. Why should I fight? Why not make an oath now and survive another day? If I took an oath, I would be granted an increased level of freedom and thus, a higher chance of escape. Though I was loath to give up any of my magical power by breaking such an oath, doing so to get away from here would be a bargain.


    The thing was, I was still not sure if I would want to leave by the time I gained that amount of freedom. Slowly, but steadily, Solus was turning me.

 Building Up and Breaking Down

    I was building.


    After Solus visited me for the seventh time, the only real measurement of the passing day that I had in this place, I had started to hear his voice in my head, even when he was not there. My determination to resist was being eroded from inside of my own mind.


    Give in.


    Let go.


    Why fight?


    I had tried several times to simply blockade him out of my mind, but that effort, no matter how hard I pushed myself, never worked. I could resist his infiltration for a while, but he would always break down my barriers.


    Instead, I decided that if I couldn¡¯t keep him out of my head, I could at least try to hide a part of myself inside of my head. So, between sessions seven through ten, while I waited for my visitor, I carefully laid brick upon brick of a wall deep within my mind, rather than at the periphery. Solus¡¯ voice was a counterpoint to my activities, driving me forward as much as it tried to lull me into compliance.


    At last, I finished the little room in my head. Carefully, and ever so gently, I slipped myself inside of it and dropped the last brick in place. The voices seemed to grow weaker, until, with a final hushed sound, they grew completely silent.


    Inside this space, my body had a surreal, muffled quality to it. Colors were less sharp and sounds were more distant than I was used to. Absently, I poked my flesh with a small nail I had pried from the privy bucket that had been left for me. It hurt less than it should have.


    I bid my body to rise, and, as if I were dreaming, it moved slowly at my command, rather than responding instantly with my slightest thought. I put myself through several paces, hoping that I would grow used to the feeling. No such luck. Whatever I had done had dampened all sources of outside stimuli, as well as the magic which Solus was layering in my head.


    I wriggled my way out of the sanctuary I had built for myself and settled down to work on my other project.


    Using a broken piece of wood, once again from my privy bucket, I had smoothed out a nearly perfect rectangle of wood on the stone floor of my prison cell. Now, with careful deliberation, I jabbed myself with the rusty nail, and began to scribe an inscription which would reduce the ambient temperature. Laurel had been kind enough to let me mess with her magical refrigerator.


    The white magic which I now habitually circulated throughout my body quickly closed the wound I had left on my arm.


    This was one of half a dozen cold inscriptions that I was working on. They did not take too long to make, although another twelve of the things were carefully stashed inside the bucket from which they had come, victims of either a shaky or impatient hand. I had learned to be very discerning in my movements.


    The sound of footsteps coming down the long hallway to my cell warned me, and I quickly stashed the inscription underneath my clothes. It looked like I was going to get a chance to test my little mind trick. With a sigh of disappointment, I made my last preparations. I let go of my white magic.


    The task was almost physically painful. If I kept the amount low I probably could have hidden it, but I had already given away too much to Solus. I was determined that he would not wring another secret from me.


    Maybe I would try it next time anyway. I was coming to rely on white magic more and more. It was truly a beautiful substance.


    ¡°Hello Ethan.¡± Solus said.


    Martin stepped up next to his master and set down a chair, its wooden legs scraping softly against the stone. Solus took a seat.


    ¡°What shall we talk about today?¡± He asked.


    I sank my mind into my little cubby in my head as he spoke, and it soon wasn¡¯t hard to make my gaze lose focus. His voice came again, though I heard him as if he were speaking to a man underwater.


    ¡°This is truly growing tiresome Ethan.¡± Solus said, ¡°While I do have a certain interest in you, I will not be patient forever. Martin has suggested that you could make do without one of your legs. What do you think?¡±


    I felt detached, but the way he made that statement with such a straight face still made me shiver. I remained silent. By his tone, he could have been asking me how much cheese I would like on my spaghetti. I might have started to become hungry from only having a meager crust of bread on the occasions that I was actually fed.


    Solus regarded me for a moment, then brushed his mind against mine.


    ¡°I may have been a little too forceful last time,¡± He muttered, ¡°Martin, would you try to rouse him?¡±


    The lock of my prison scraped, and I almost leaped for that hope of freedom. Solus always spoke to me through the iron bars, never coming in. If I moved now, I would probabl-


    My ears gave off a hollow ringing sound, and I wondered why the world had suddenly gone sideways.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Came Solus¡¯ voice, ¡°Maybe a bit too hard. Bring him up to me.¡±


    Strong arms closed around me and brought me to eye level with the man. I stared into the empty depths of his pupils.


    ¡°Let me in.¡± He whispered.


    The magic whispered through my mind. I felt it bounce through my skull, though the feeling was muted, and I could feel a definite attenuation of the power as it searched for something to latch onto. It looked like my trick was working. As the reverberations faded, I could feel them settling into my brain, joining the silent whispers that plagued me constantly now.


    Solus watched me for any sign of giving, then turned to Martin, ¡°Drop him. I¡¯m afraid I may have scrambled something in his head. It feels like he is only half there. If he hasn¡¯t turned within two more days, then you may try your way.¡±


    I turned my head slowly to look at Martin, who only regarded me with a cool glare. The man was controlled. He wasn¡¯t a crazy dog on a leash, he was a bullet in a chamber, just waiting for that extra squeeze to explode into action.


    They made their way down the hall, the cells to either side of them empty since they had dragged the babbler away.


    Pulling myself back into my mind, I was immediately set upon by the whispers. Solus¡¯ latest attempt had made them bolder, and they were now a low buzz inside of my mind. Banishing the sound, or at least suppressing it somehow, I got back to work.


    Six cold inscriptions, altered by yours truly to increase their output, should be enough for what I had planned. I absently ignited some essence into white magic and began circulating it through my body. I shivered in pleasure for a moment, then got to work.


    The last inscriptions were completed after two more visits from Solus, and they might have been my best work yet. Each time the man had returned, I had sunk once again into the hidey-hole I had built into my brain, and we had carried out the same dance. If my plan worked, I wouldn''t have to see if it worked a fourth time. To tell the truth, if I let my mind wander to much, I started to wonder why I wanted to escape anyway. I had to act now.


    The door to my cell was made of iron, lock and all. I had carefully tested all of the bars for give and had come up empty. I had taken a moment to curse competency in Solus¡¯ dungeon designer at that point, then chosen my plan of attack.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Iron is very hard. It can also be very brittle if it is not worked correctly. Moreover, grows brittle if you can bring its temperature down far enough. The weakest point in my cell was the locking mechanism. The internal workings of the lock were made of bronze as far as I could tell and would be resistant to anything I could do. The three bars that drove into the catch on the adjacent bar that did the actual obstructing though, were narrower than the bars of my cell, and would be the most likely point of failure.


    If I could make it cold enough.


    I had tried with a single inscription, and the results had been less than stellar. Two had still not been enough. Taking the difference between the two, I decided that five might work, and settled for doing six.


    Licking the first inscription, I fed it essence. The little piece of wood grew cold in my hands, and when I placed it against the iron for a moment, then released, it held still as a little layer of frost creeped out from where it was touching. I repeated the process with the other five tokens, my work accompanied by the mad little chorus which had started up in my head at some point.


    Normally an enchanter would close his inscription, trapping the essence he had poured into it in an infinite loop. Although this would not render it permanent, it did have an extremely long half-life. Enchanting had a sort of elegance to it that cardinal magic did not. Mages could do spectacular things, but they did so by spraying their power out into the world. An inscription, in most cases, was more subtle than that, yet its effects were always much longer reaching. Larger inscriptions in materials with high magic affinity could last several lifetimes and some enchantments, like those laid into the stones of Aramor castle, would never truly fade.


    I had left the inscriptions open on one end, and with an effort, I pushed as much essence into my little creations as I could. The cold inscription would not be nearly enough by itself, but if I could supercharge it¡­


    Essence flowed from my body into the tokens, and I suddenly began to shiver. Frost rime coated the locking mechanism and began spreading across the entirety of the barred door. It still wasn¡¯t cold enough.


    Minutes passed, and I heard a faint snapping sound. Then, with no further warning, the first of my tokens shattered. There is a reason why inscriptions are usually done in metal. It handles the power just a little better.


    One by one the tokens broke. When the last one gave out, I grasped the bar next to the door firmly for leverage, channeled all of the essence I could throughout my entire body, and gave the most tremendous kick I had ever thrown.


    Crack


    The door held.


    I kicked again.


    Crack


    It budged ever so slightly, something had come loose.


    With a roar, I unleashed a final attack.


    CRACK!


    The locking bars went skittering off into the hallway as the door was flung open by the power of my kick. I had done it. I was free.


    Now all I had to do was find my way out of here.


    Gathering up the nail that I had used for the inscriptions, I stumbled out of my prison. There was no actual change in the air around me, but I swore I could smell liberty.


    My cell block funneled into a hallway which had numerous branching points. I decided to stick to the main thoroughfare and started slinking along. As I moved, I muttered an incantation to myself, visualizing a pattern I had memorized before ever being able to use practical magic:


    Ye sacred fire, ye eternal truth


    Hear my prayer and answer now


    Break the bonds of mortal sense


    Enlighten now, with perfect view


    I¡¯m sure it was more poetic in the ancient Esturian language.


    Magic flowed through me, and I felt my senses sharpen dramatically. The awareness spell was another spell of practical magic that I had learned. It sharpened the senses of the user beyond what the standard essence infusion could. The dim hallway was now bathed in a sort of twilight. Colors had grown dim, but I was now sharply aware of the area as a whole. Maybe the spell stimulated rods in the eye.


    My nose, which had once been deadened, was now filled with the scents of human blood, sweat, and excrement. My ears picked up shallow breathing or moans of pain. My tongue just felt more like sandpaper.


    The sound of footseps made me sink into one of the various branching paths and meld myself against the slightly recessed bars of a cage. A man with a torch moved past me and I held my breath. I tracked him with my ears until he turned down one of the side passages. The sounds of loud cursing, then fleshy thumps and disjointed pleading told me that he had come to retrieve somebody.


    The form of the guard, dragging a wild-eyed man along behind him, clumped past my position. When the sounds of their egress faded, I made my move.


    I ghosted along the corridor as it curved gently, then suddenly ended at a four-way intersection. I cursed the architect of the stone around me. He had clearly known that this was going to be a maze. It looked as if this place dated well before the founding of the monster fighting ring. It might even be as old as the castle itself.


    I decided that straight was as good a direction as any for now. It at least put distance between me and the area where I had been formerly incarcerated.


    As I moved, the sounds of human suffering slowly faded, only to be replaced by the sounds of animals in pain. I heard low growls and hissing echoing through the halls. I swore that there was even a brief whinny, although how they convinced a horse to come down here was beyond me. Probably sedatives.


    It was at this point that I found my first door. The thing was a rough wooden construct which was short enough that I would have bumped my head if I entered without ducking down. Leaning in, I listened hard, but heard no sounds beyond an occasional squeak. Rats were an endemic problem in Aramor, and this dungeon was no exception to that rule.


    Applying gentle pressure, I was surprised when the door swung silently open. Whoever worked in this room must have liked their hinges well oiled. All the better for me.


    Glancing inside, I saw a wide workbench dotted with several tools I recognized, along with a series of stacked cages which lined one wall. Looking closer at those, I made out the dim shapes of rats. I guess it wasn¡¯t a rat problem then, just a rat solution to another problem. If I wasn¡¯t off my mark, this was an alchemist¡¯s laboratory.


    I stole inside quietly and was greeted by a chorus of squeaks. I ignored the rats¡¯ excitement or anger at my presence and moved to the bench. Sure enough, I saw a mortar and pestle, several flasks, and a small brazier like the one that Laurel used. Our burgeoning alchemist was a pyromancer then.


    A sudden rattling caused all of the rats to fall silent. I froze at that and turned to see a cage which had been pushed against the opposite wall from the bench. This one was far larger than those which held the smaller rats. Laying inside that cage was the familiar shape of a rathound. It glared daggers at me with its large eyes, as if daring me to come close.


    I did move closer to it, but only so that I could get a look at the water bowl which lay inside of its cage. When I was about a meter away, the rathound went crazy.


    With a chittering that I was all too familiar with, it hurled itself against the cage which held it. Teeth flashed against the iron, but only chips of teeth flew, rather than the harder material of the cage. I had jumped back at the attack, but had soon settled myself into watching. In a minute the rathound, it¡¯s flanks heaving with the effort of breathing, gave up its desperate assault. It slunk back into the corner of its cage, turned once, then settled down to glare at me.


    I approached again but only received a baleful glare. Its water bowl was filled with something that made my enhanced sense of smell recoil from half a meter away. The alchemist who had been working on this thing had left it with some kind of potion, then waited for it to go mad enough with thirst to drink the vile concoction.


    Turning back, I went to the bench and searched through the various vials until I found one that I thought might be similar. Unstoppering it, I confirmed it with the smell. It was horrible in the way that a rose is horrible after it is half-decayed. You could tell that there used to be some substance to it, perhaps something beautiful. Now, it was just a parody meant to bring shame to roses everywhere.


    I was unwilling to see if any of the other concoctions were anything that might be useful, so with the vial in hand, I made a quick search, coming up with a cutting knife. It was even worse than the blade I had forged, and subsequently broken, but it was infinitely better than my bare fists. I left the room, followed by chitters of protest.


    In the hallway once again, I heard voices. I ducked back inside the alchemist¡¯s room and waited. The voices grew no more distant, nor any closer. After several minutes, I started to listen more closely.


    Give up


    Let go


    With a shiver, I realized that those weren¡¯t the voices of people. They were the voice of one person in particular. The little presents he had left inside of my mind had started speaking up again, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not suppress them this time.


    With a sigh, I leaned against the door and considered my options.


    At this point I could do one of two things. I could either start moving and pray that I would hit some kind of object to orient myself, or find a hiding spot nearby and hope that someone would come by and lead me towards an area that was closer to the exit. I was personally in favor of waiting, not wanting to get myself lost in this maze.


    However, I also reasoned that Solus would eventually return for our next little therapy session. When he found me missing, he was going to send people out to search. If I stayed nearby, there was a good chance that I would be captured in any systemic hunt. I wasn¡¯t terribly good at hiding, and Solus probably had more than a few mages who could also utilize the awareness spell.


    My best bet was to get a head start with the time I had. Even if I didn¡¯t find a way out, I could die with the satisfaction that I hadn¡¯t been turned into Solus¡¯ pet. That was a thought worth more than ten gold sovereigns.


    With that in mind, and both a clock ticking in my head and Solus¡¯ whispers to keep me company, I stole one of the two essence lanterns from the alchemist¡¯s workbench, then set out into the darkness.


    I increased the amount of circulating white magic in my body to bring me a little comfort as I walked. I had the essence to spare, so why not.

 Emergence

    The art of cartography is not a skill I possess. I had seen maps of Esturia and knew that there was a dearth of information available about this important subject, but I had never felt like my skills would be put to their best use by working on it.


    I was however an accomplished boy scout and knew some techniques which would allow me to prevent myself from becoming completely lost. The operative word being completely.


    I later worked out the exact amount of time I had spent wandering underneath Aramor after escaping from Solus¡¯ dungeon, and it came out to around two and a half days, with some rounding. I spent half of that time wandering and backtracking, and the other half laying very still as feet padded around in the darkness, hiding my essence lantern beneath several folds of my tattered clothing. I didn¡¯t know if they were looking for me, or if their presence was merely incidental, but I was unwilling to risk finding out.


    My salvation came, strangely enough, when I finally ran out of essence. I had been circulating a moderate amount of white magic through my system in an effort to keep my flagging body going throughout this entire ordeal. Between that, and my constant renewal of the awareness spell, I felt myself run near the end of my second day.


    With an effort that felt herculean to me, I let the white magic go, and somehow kept the presence of mind to prevent myself from renewing the awareness spell when it next wore off. I settled down to meditate and let the world wash over me. I carefully reviewed the past.


    My body itself was whole, I had passed the point at which your stomach stops complaining about the fact that it hasn¡¯t been fed in a while. The only thing I really craved was fresh water. I had even gone so far as to lick some condensation from a wall, only to immediately spit the vile stuff out.


    Solus¡¯s many voices had become something of a group of loyal companions to me. I even found myself answering them at points.


    Give in


    ¡°I would,¡± I muttered, as I walked down a hallway, ¡°But then someone would have to go to all the trouble of hauling my dead body up to the surface so that I could be burned properly in a church yard. I would hate to be a terrible inconvenience.¡±


    Let go


    ¡°Trust me,¡± I retorted as I contemplated which of three paths to take, ¡°I have learned to let go of a lot of things. If I¡¯m not careful now, I¡¯m going to let go of my sanity. That would be a terrible loss to the Alchemists¡¯ Guild, if I do say so myself.¡±


    Why fight?


    ¡°One of the great questions of life,¡± I muttered as I scaled a ladder hewn into the stone, ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to ask Tylee that philosophical question after I get out of here.¡±


    I missed Tylee.


    I brought myself back to the present and focused on my meditation. I sank into the little cubby in my mind, letting Solus¡¯s voices and the yammerings of my body fall silent. I was alone, and it felt wonderful.


    After some time, I brought myself back. The first thing I noticed was a faint stench. Focusing on it, I realized that I had been smelling it for a while, but the pleasant feeling of white magic coursing through my veins had deadened me to any outside unpleasantness.


    I pulled myself to my feet, started to ignite some white magic, then paused. For the first time in a very long time, I was feeling the telltale ache of essence depletion. My body was not as responsive as it could have been, and my toes were feeling a little numb. That might have been the cold, but I couldn¡¯t be certain.


    I must have had a lucid moment, because, instead of embracing the comfort of white magic, I muttered the incantation and held the matrix of the awareness spell in my mind. My body burned with needles of pain as my soul warned me that I had passed Mekel¡¯s limit long ago, and I felt a tingling numbness shoot up the side of my right leg. I leaned against the wall and took in a deep breath. After this passed, I found that my senses had been sharpened, though I was not sure if that was a blessing or not. I inhaled deeply and caught a whiff of something foul.


    Yes, that was definitely excrement.


    Beautiful, beautiful excrement.


    I let my nose lead me, and with only a few reversals and another half-day march, managed to reach a flowing stream of human, animal, and other unidentifiable waste. I had reached the sewers.


    ¡°Praise be to the goddess Orianna,¡± I muttered, ¡°I¡¯ve found the crap that I was looking for.¡±


    I limped my way upstream, the smell growing fouler as I walked. I had never been so happy as when I started stepping over tributaries. That meant that I was approaching more and more populated areas. If I got lucky, I would find an inlet.


    I was a mess when I finally crawled out of the sewer. I probably smelled even worse than I looked, and with my tattered clothes covered in all manner of filth, I looked really bad.


    The sweet night air was bliss upon my skin, and I staggered my way over to a public water pump. The stuff wasn¡¯t necessarily clean, but at this point, I was willing to risk it. After feverishly working the thing, I had the presence of mind to at least rinse my hands, then vigorously began slurping of handfuls of the frigid nectar.


    Shortly thereafter, I staggered a few houses down, found an alleyway, and promptly collapsed into it.


    When I awoke, I was being dragged along by the fraying collar of my clothing, the grumbling of the man doing the pulling wafting to my ears.


    ¡°Bloody beggars,¡± The man grumbled, ¡°Why can¡¯t the guards keep them to the lower city? It ain¡¯t proper for them to be in the sight of respectable people.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Arefina.¡± I muttered.


    The man stopped and looked back at me, ¡°Woke up did you? In that case, you can move with your own feet.¡±


    He dropped me. I felt woozy but managed to pull myself to my feet with some less than gentle assistance from the man.


    ¡°I need to get-¡° I took a breath, steadying myself, ¡°To the Arefina manor.¡±


    The man snorted, ¡°Don¡¯t we all. Look, why don¡¯t you crawl back to whatever hole you pulled yourself out of and get back to drinking yourself to death.¡±


    I looked at this man. His clothes made him out to be a servant of some kind. If not to a noble house, then to the city itself in some civil capacity.


    ¡°You¡¯re a servant, aren¡¯t you?¡± I growled.


    The man took a step back at my tone, his eyes going wary, ¡°You¡¯re not going to cause trouble are you?¡±


    My essence had restored itself enough for a simple attunement spell. I muttered the incantation and looked at him. Sure enough, this man had no talent for magic. That made this simple.


    I was tired, hungry, and being driven on by a dozen voices whispering in the back of my mind. I had promised myself that I would think twice before doing stupid things, but at the moment, I simply didn¡¯t care.


    I pulled the knife I had stolen from Solus¡¯ alchemist.


    The man backed up a few more steps, his eyes growing wide. If he didn¡¯t know the exact spell that I had used, he might have seen the silvery flash that flows through a mage¡¯s eyes when they use practical magic. My own gray eyes probably didn¡¯t show this phenomenon very well, but I knew that commoners looked very closely at the eyes of those who they thought might be wielding magic. I knew, because I too made it a point to gauge the eyes of people who started speaking gibberish.


    ¡°Point me to the Arefina manor,¡± I growled, ¡°Or I am going to find out whether a man can bleed out before he cooks alive from the inside.¡±


    My eyes must have been red enough to convince him that there was at least a very thin halo of red around my them, because he responded as if I could actually carry out my threat.


    ¡°Please!¡± He begged, dropping to his knees, ¡°I have a family!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill you.¡± I muttered, ¡°I just need directions, without having to dance about with you forever. I swear upon my life and power that if you just point me in that direction, I will not hurt you this day.¡±


    I felt the oath wrap around my soul. The man hastily gave me the directions I had asked for.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I rasped out, ¡°I apologize for this, but my errand is urgent.¡±


    I limped away, leaving the man behind. I truly did feel bad for intimidating him, but at the moment, expediency trumped everything in my book. My short rest had given me energy, but I had no illusions about my chances of getting to the Arefina manor if I were to collapse again.


    The hour was early enough that I encountered few people, and even fewer who wanted to have anything to do with me. I stuck to the edge of the road and kept my head down, trying to exude an aura of danger.


    Bertram was inspecting the roses, which were beginning to bloom for the second time in the year. Harvest time was approaching, and the smells of autumn were heavy laden in the air. That, and the stink of the sewer, but that was my fault.


    At first, Bertram wrinkled his nose at me and refused to even acknowledge my presence at the gate. I shook the bars which kept me out until he finally gave in and approached.


    ¡°Move along,¡± He said to me, ¡°Or I shall call the guards.¡±


    I bowed as elegantly as I could manage, ¡°Is that any way to greet an old friend Bertram?¡±


    Bertram froze, his eyes widening. He ran his gaze over me for a long moment, then looked deeply into my eyes.


    ¡°Master Dyre?¡± He gasped, struggling with the key that would open the lock to the gate.


    I found that I seriously disliked bars of any kind at the moment. Fortunately for the bars, I didn¡¯t have any way of dealing with them right now. Maybe later.


    ¡°In the flesh,¡± I said, trying to put a little strength behind my words, ¡°I was in the neighborhood and thought I should stop by.¡±


    Bertram succeeded in getting the gate open, and unconscious of his rather fine attire, stepped up next to me and took an arm over his shoulder. I found myself gratefully sagging against him, and he grunted as a significant amount of my weight settled on him.


    ¡°Lady Arefina has been tearing apart the lower city looking for you!¡± He explained, ¡°Lady Megaine¡¯s spy was found dead almost six days ago, the one whom she had set to follow you after you left. We thought that you were¡­¡±


    ¡°I could really use a bath.¡± I noted as he brought me inside, ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be warm.¡±


    ¡°Raila!¡± Bertram yelled.


    The short, black haired maid appeared, then gasped as she recognized me.


    ¡°Master Dyre!¡± She exclaimed, rushing over to us and trying to take my other arm.


    ¡°Enough of that,¡± Bertram snapped, ¡°The man¡¯s been swimming the sewer, get the bath going. I¡¯ll go inform the lady that Master Dyre has returned.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Bertram,¡± I said, ¡°but could you give me just a few minutes to soak?¡±


    Bertram hesitated, then nodded. The man was aware of my almost religious bathing habits and knew that it would probably prepare me for the grilling that I was about to get from the lady of the house. Bertram was a good man.


    ¡°I shall make myself presentable.¡± He said, pushing open the bath door as Raila ran water.


    I almost dropped into the steaming water with my clothes on, but managed to wait until Raila had departed before stripping off my clothes and literally falling into the basin. It was just about the most glorious thing that I had felt in a long time.


    Speaking of glorious things. When I surfaced, I ignited a sizable portion of my remaining essence into white magic. After so long without it, my body literally shuddered at the sudden pleasure which coursed through it. Between it and the bath, I was certain that I had died and gone to a better world than this one.


    Minutes passed, and I slowly let the magic fade. I felt like a new man. A man who still wanted that power in him, but one who could face the world again. I focused on the warmth of the water as I took inventory of my almost empty essence stores. I would need to rest some more before I could use more white magic. Now was not the time to be hasty, there would be plenty of time to refine my control over the stuff later.


    Maybe I could get Tylee to lend me a phylactery. Purely for the essence of course. I didn¡¯t want to suffer from essence depletion.


    Everything was almost perfect, then the voices started up. I groaned and tried to focus on the water, but Solus¡¯ fragmented voices would not be ignored right now. I quickly began scrubbing myself down, and was pulling on a simple gray bathrobe when, with a resounding boom, the door to the bathing chamber was hurled open by a white-haired, golden-eyed goddess.


    Tylee, her face a storm of emotions, led a billowing robe of pure white through the door. The depictions of the goddess Orianna could not have found a better likeness in the flesh. If she were in fact the goddess of vengeance, rather than of light and life. I could see why Orianna had named Tylee as her child.


    Long strides brought her up to me. For a moment, her hard eyes looked me over from head to toe. A hand reached out and felt the stubble where my hair had been torn out and begun to regrow. Finally, that hand moved to my cheek. I remained silent, and by some miracle, the voices in my head did as well.


    Like dawn shattering a storm-filled sky, Tylee¡¯s smile brought radiance into the room, and more importantly, into my heart.


    ¡°Ethan!¡± She gasped, enveloping me in her powerful arms.


    I had wanted to say something smart, like I had with Bertram. Or maybe something witty that would make her laugh. But as that woman enfolded me in her embrace, I felt safe for the first time in a very long while. Tylee is shorter than I am, but in that moment, I felt as if I were a child being embraced by its mother. All thoughts fled at the touch of those mighty, yet gentle arms.


    So, I did then one thing that was left to me. I cried.


    As I wept, Tylee Arefina, the daughter-heir to the house of Arefina, and one of the most powerful geomancers in all of Esturia, held me. I was home, and that was all that mattered for now.

 Holding Tight

    After my breakdown, and much to the protests of her sister, Tylee declared me off limits until I had at least gotten something to eat. Despite this, Megaine did manage to slip in close when Tylee was summoned away to handle some kind of house business.


    She opened her mouth, but I held up a hand, forestalling her. Glancing around, I extracted the flask of the purple-black concoction which I had lifted from the lab of Solus¡¯ pet alchemist.


    ¡°Keep this safe.¡± I said, ¡°I have some suspicions about what it is, but I need to test it.¡±


    She palmed the flask and nodded, ¡°Where were you taken?¡±


    ¡°The Overflowing Flagon.¡± I muttered, ¡°Though it took me several days to get back here, so don¡¯t expect to find much of anything. I¡¯ll explain the rest when we¡¯re together.¡±


    Megaine nodded briskly and moved swiftly to the large form of Vesk. She spoke a few words to him as he watched her grimly. With a bow, he moved away with the fluid movements of a trained adventurer. I realized then that I had never really seen Vesk move. He had always been a sentinel, eternally blocking my way. His footsteps reminded me of a documentary I had once seen about hunting cats.


    It felt odd to eat just before the noon bell, and I briefly contemplated introducing the word brunch to Esturia. I made the rather wise decision to not do so. No world is truly ready for brunch, and all of the social landmines involved in carrying it out.


    The cook had seared and thinly sliced a steak that was so tender I briefly wondered whether he was a gray mage. The mushroom sauce tickled my starved senses, and the fresh baked bread might well have been ambrosia for the gusto with which I tore into it. Tylee had wisely decided against observing this particular feast, as I am sure that it was anything but pleasant to watch.


    It was almost as good as the bath.


    The little spark of white magic which danced through my system made it all the better. Though the diffuse pain of passing Mekel¡¯s limit dampened the effect of using so little. I decided that I would give myself a little time to recover before I worked on controlling that particular magic.


    Stuffed, clean, and more than a little drowsy, I stumbled back into the main hall of the manor. Tylee was there, but in the company of a man whom I did not recognize. My habit of checking a person¡¯s eyes when I first met them gave me my first shock of the day.


    He had a halo of black around his hazel eyes.


    I reached for a dagger that was not there. Realizing that I was truly weaponless, I felt my fight or flight response kick in. I had been beaten and caged by a man like this, and I was not ready to let that happen again.


    The whispers in my mind rose to a crescendo and I suddenly had an answer for at least one of them.


    Why fight?


    ¡°You won¡¯t take me!¡± I screamed, then threw myself at the man, whose eyes widened at my sudden ferocious charge.


    The primitive, lizard part of my brain drove me forward, but it failed to take into account that the man was standing next to a seasoned knight. Before I could close within a meter of the man, Tylee was there, her hands wrapping my wrists in a steel grip. I snarled and struggled, but her overwhelming strength held me steady.


    ¡°Ethan.¡± She said softly, trying to get me to look at her, ¡°This is Captain Quentus of the Seekers of Truth. He is here about a rogue pyromancer reportedly assaulting a servant this morning.¡±


    The man stepped up to me and looked me over, ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me Lady Arefina, he looks like he¡¯s been cleaned up a little, but does match the description given.¡±


    ¡°Ethan?¡± Tylee asked.


    I worked on controlling my breathing, but an animal part of me still flinched whenever I met the man¡¯s eyes. I settled for staring at his black uniform.


    ¡°I did threaten a man this morning,¡± I admitted, hanging my head, ¡°Though I didn¡¯t actually intend to hurt him.¡±


    I felt a strange pressure gather around me as I spoke. A scent of something cool and sterile tickled my nostrils. He was using black magic.


    ¡°Truth.¡± The man said solemnly, ¡°Thank you Master Dyre. Lady Arefina, I believe this is a matter that can be settled personally or civilly. The Seekers are not needed here. Although I would like to question Master Dyre concerning his reaction to my presence. With your permission of course my lady.¡±


    Tylee, who still had me in her grip, spoke up, ¡°Ethan?¡±


    The voices in my head were growing stronger as my mind began looping, ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t think I can. Not right now anyway.¡±


    Tylee turned to the captain, ¡°As I was telling you captain, Master Dyre has recently experienced a traumatic event. Would you accept my oath that I will bring him to the temple to speak with you in the near future?¡±


    He bowed, ¡°With your word alone I would be satisfied lady. I see no reason to burden your soul with unnecessary oaths.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, captain,¡± She said, ¡°Perhaps it would be best if you left.¡±


    He nodded, bowed, and marched out. Raila shut the door behind him and regarded me with wide eyes.


    ¡°I believe that we need to talk.¡± Tylee said calmly, ¡°Raila, be sure that Master Dyre¡¯s rooms are prepared, he will be staying with us for the next several days.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Lady Arefina.¡± Raila replied with a curtsey, hurrying off to fulfill her mistress¡¯ will.


    ¡°That was quite the display,¡± Megaine remarked dryly as she descended the stairs, ¡°I believe that this interview would best conducted by the babbling brook. Less chance of somebody listening in with all of those clear lines of sight.¡±


    Tylee agreed and we adjourned to a gazebo by the aptly named brook. I was glad to see that there were no iron bars, just a wooden railing. That would be fine.


    ¡°We need to know what happened.¡± Tylee said after sitting opposite me, her sister next to her, ¡°As much as you can.¡±


    ¡°Everything.¡± Megaine punctuated, returning the glare that Tylee shot at her at that word.


    I rubbed the sides of my head took a deep breath, ¡°No, Megaine is right. Quiet you.¡±


    Megaine turned a frosty gaze on me while Tylee raised an eyebrow at my last words.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, realizing that I had rebuked my internal chorus out loud, ¡°Not you, the voices in my head.¡±


    The two remained silent.


    Ah, that was probably not a comforting thing to say.


    I told them everything.


    XXXXXX


    Tylee looked over at Megaine, ¡°Do you have the vial?¡±


    Megaine shook her head, ¡°I have made it secure. I will return it to Ethan when he asks for it.¡±


    I nodded wearily, cradling my head in my hands. I really wanted some white magic right now.


    ¡°Vesk is already moving on the tavern with some former allies he trusts,¡± Megaine said, ¡°We should know soon if he finds anything.¡±


    ¡°Vesk?¡± I asked, ¡°Doesn¡¯t he work for your father?¡±


    Megain snorted, ¡°Vesk tends to heed my father a little too much, but his ultimate loyalty is to me.¡±


    His overprotectiveness of Megaine suddenly made sense. Vesk was not a man placed in the house to watch over Duke Arefina¡¯s daughters, he was the bondsman of the eldest. I still didn¡¯t know why he seemed to dislike me so much.


    ¡°A rogue black mage is disturbing news indeed.¡± Tylee said, playing with a lock of her hair as she looked at the ground, ¡°I will go inform the Seekers immediately, though they will want to interview you personally. Something this serious will need to be confirmed by more than even my word can supply.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re going to use black magic on me,¡± I shivered, ¡°Aren¡¯t they?¡±


    Tylee looked at me with compassion in her eyes, ¡°I will make sure that Captain Quentus performs the interview. He is a personal friend and he will only use a truth spell, nothing invasive like what you have already lived through. Personally, I would like you to visit one of the Sanitarium¡¯s brothers.¡±


    I shook my head vehemently, ¡°There is no way that I am letting another black mage in my head.¡±


    ¡°There is already one inside your mind.¡± Megaine interrupted, her voice harsh, ¡°If you don¡¯t receive treatment, you will likely go mad.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not crazy!¡± I burst out.


    The sisters regarded me with calm eyes. I realized that I was breathing heavily, and the voices in my head were clamoring.


    ¡°Sister,¡± Megaine said softly, ¡°I would like to speak with Master Dyre alone. Would you make your trip to the temple of Tyr now?¡±


    Tylee weighed her sister for a moment, then nodded, ¡°Very well.¡±


    Tylee left and Megaine gestured for me to follow her. We walked through the garden in silence until we reached the edge of the pond. When we arrived, the hydromancer turned to me and held out an iron-wrought circlet with a gem which hummed in my magical senses. I snatched it out of her hand and put it on.


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Megaine said softly.


    I embraced the power of white magic and sank to my knees, exulting in the thrill of the stuff. I was still low on essence, but the constant draw from the phylactery was enough that I could keep a slow burn going in my body. I felt much better.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°It¡¯s as I thought.¡± Megaine said, ¡°You¡¯ve become addicted to white magic.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just learning to control it.¡± I said defensively.


    ¡°You are a practitioner of the medical arts Ethan,¡± Megaine said calmly, ¡°What are the early signs of magic addiction.¡±


    ¡°Overuse of magic,¡± I repeated instantly, ¡°Even when there is no need for it.¡±


    ¡°And how do they justify that overuse?¡± She asked me.


    ¡°They claim they are¡­¡± I trailed off.


    Oh crap.


    Megaine took my face in her hands and look closely into each of my eyes in turn, ¡°I don¡¯t see any signs of iris impingement by your use of white magic, yet. I think your gray is still dominant enough, though it may be slightly lighter than I remember it. Please release your hold on the magic.¡±


    I realized with a start that I had been holding onto the magic the whole time we had been talking. I let it go, shivering as I forcefully stopped myself from igniting more essence immediately.


    ¡°This is another reason why you should visit the Sanitarium.¡± She said, ¡°The black mages there can help you.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell them that I¡¯m a white mage!¡± I protested sharply, ¡°They would turn me over to the sisterhood immediately.¡±


    ¡°White mages are not the only ones who can become addicted to white magic Ethan,¡± She said, ¡°More than a few rich women have become beggars after being healed one too many times and developing a taste for it. Once it has a hold of you, white magic is very difficult to shake free of. They often get their hands on rogue white mages, or even babblers, and use them to fuel their addiction. It is a mutually destructive spiral.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t black mages detect lies?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie then,¡± She said calmly, ¡°They will probably not ask you directly if you are a white mage. Simply tell them that you were injured and healed multiple times during your captivity, it is not a common torture practice, but it has been done before. Mention that there was a white mage babbler who assaulted you. Let people draw their own conclusions. Black magic does not preclude technical truths.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t want to.¡± I said, ¡°If you had felt the things that were done to me¡­¡±


    Megaine, in an uncharacteristic move, touched my forearm, ¡°You have a choice now Ethan. You are a slave to the magic that you once controlled. If you let it, it will eventually consume you. The Brotherhood of Truth specializes in treating white mages. They are often unsuccessful in completely curing addiction, but they can add anywhere from five to ten years to the lifespan of a white mage. More if the white mage is cooperative.¡±


    She met my eyes, ¡°I would think that you would have learned by now that you cannot do everything yourself. Let someone help you. Let us help you. Do you have any idea what it would do to Tylee if you ended up on the street hunting for your next essence hit? Or if you just broke down and started screaming nonsense?¡±


    ¡°You are a selfish person Ethan Dyre,¡± Megaine accused me, ¡°My sister may think you are something special, all I see is an overconfident child who believes he has all of the answers.¡±


    ¡°I like to do things my way.¡± I growled at her, ¡°I don¡¯t like being beholden to others.¡±


    ¡°You are beholden to others,¡± She shot back, ¡°If not for Tylee, you would probably be having a nice long chat with the Seekers right now. The last time you thought that you could handle something on your own, you ended up in a prison cell.¡±


    ¡°You see the bonds between people as a loss of your so-called freedom,¡± She said, ¡°Bonds do bind, but when we are bound together, we are stronger. You can choose to bind yourself to someone, or a less benevolent force will swipe you up and bind you to itself. I think that somewhere in that head of yours you think you are better than we are because of that ¡®freedom.¡¯ The truth is, your freedom is a lie, it is just a cage of delusions which let others take advantage of you. You have not chosen a master, so anyone can become your master.¡±


    ¡°So you want me to give up? To stop fighting?¡± I yelled, Solus¡¯ whispers growing ever stronger in my head.


    ¡°I want you to fight with all that you are.¡± Her quiet words carried more power than my shout, ¡°I want you to fight for your life. I also want you to realize that you cannot struggle against the world alone. You need someone on your side, because alone, you will lose this fight.¡±


    I lowered my head, then muttered softly, ¡°And you Megaine, would you be on my side?¡±


    ¡°I am dying.¡± She said quietly, ¡°Whose side I am on is irrelevant.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s funny,¡± I said, ¡°Because when I was in that dungeon, I knew for a fact that I was trapped, and that I would more than likely die. Yet here I am, standing before you. I didn¡¯t give up Megaine, neither should you. Part of the reason why I went tearing after the first lead that came along was because you have been so focused on making your preparations that you have forgotten that your body is not yet being burned.¡±


    She glared at me, ¡°This. Is. Not. About. Me.¡±


    Each word was cut with a razorblade made of ice. I felt a chill deep in my bones as she spoke. More than that, I could hear the hint of despair in her own voice. Megaine did a very good job of hiding the fact that she was in pain every day. I knew because I had tested the potion that I had made for her. Having to take it daily was probably eating away at her self-control. Add to that the effect that the parasite was probably having, and she was likely being held together mainly by sheer willpower.


    I realized with a jolt that I had not just been trying to find a cure, I had been keeping my distance from Megaine because I didn¡¯t want to be hurt when she left. Megaine had given up on her own life, and I had too. I had bought into the lie she was telling herself and made my own decision to hold her at an arm¡¯s length. Life is easier when you don¡¯t spend time with the literal manifestations of your failures. Life is easier if you never have to watch someone leave you.


    For the second time since she had become my patient, I had failed Megaine. I briefly wondered why it was my life was a series of failures piled upon one another.


    Let go


    ¡®Not this one, you bastard.¡¯ I growled back internally.


    Surprisingly, the voices grew quiet as I held out a hand to the elder Arefina, ¡°My lady, I believe that it is. Come inside and I¡¯ll make you something so that you can stop wishing for death with every breath you take.¡±


    I could tell that I had hit a mark, because Megaine, rather than glaring, showed the briefest flash of surprise. The fact that she covered it up quickly did not make a difference.


    ¡°You cannot save me.¡± She said coldly.


    ¡°Not right now, no.¡± I admitted, my hand still held out, ¡°But I can work up something that will help with the pain and nausea. It won¡¯t go away completely, but I promise that it will be bearable. You¡¯ll still have your mind to work with too, though there might be some muscular weakness and generalized fatigue.¡±


    She raised her hand, hesitated, then took mine. I escorted her inside and left her in the capable hands of Raila, before making my way to my lab.


    The Broken Lands are a host to many useful herbs, many of which we use in the process of alchemy. They also give birth to a variety of herbs which have many of the effects of their analogues in the Sunrise Lands. Some alchemists make an ¡®endurance potion¡¯ which is little more than the juice of aprache fruits, which I highly suspected were the magical equivalent of oranges. It certainly boosted immunity.


    Bogfen root produces an analgesic which acts directly on the brain. It¡¯s useful because it deadens pain without having effects on functioning. I quickly ground some down and combined it with several other herbs. It was more the work of an herbalist, rather than an alchemist, but sometimes simplicity works where all the complexities of magic fail.


    I made enough to last for several weeks, then filled a flask with the stuff, sweetening it with a little honey. Unlike the stew in Tanna¡¯s kitchen, I made sure to bend all of my intent towards the preparation. My power as a gray mage would do more than make it taste better.


    As I worked, I found myself forcibly suppressing flares of white magic that I had casually ignited. It was difficult each time, and I was sure that I was going to be indulging in more than a little of the stuff later, but I managed to keep the hunger for it at bay while I was working. Strangely enough, the voice of Solus in my head was reduced to a murmur as I worked.


    I made my way to Megaine¡¯s room and tapped on her door.


    ¡°Enter.¡± She called.


    I opened the door and stepped inside to see her seated on the floor, her legs tucked beneath her and her eyes closed. She had clearly been meditating, probably in an effort to resist the pain.


    ¡°Drink this.¡± I said, holding out the lukewarm mug of liquid.


    She sniffed it cautiously, then downed the whole thing. She grimaced as she handed it back.


    ¡°Disgusting.¡± She noted dryly.


    ¡°Medicine isn¡¯t supposed to taste good, otherwise we would want it all the time.¡± I stated blithely.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s the problem with white magic.¡± She said, her eyes meeting mine.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to see a black mage.¡± I responded stubbornly, ¡°Not yet.¡±


    She gestured at the floor. I sank down opposite her.


    ¡°A properly trained white mage spends more than a year learning to meditate before they are allowed to touch white magic.¡± Megaine said, closing her eyes, ¡°It is all they do for that time. It, along with the intervention of black magic, is why a white mage with an average case load can last for anywhere from ten to twenty years before they eventually succumb to their addiction. Either that, or they forswear magic completely. Although there are few who possess the ability to hold to such dedication.¡±


    She held out her hands, ¡°I need to feel the level of your control.¡±


    I took her hands and she muttered the alignment spell aloud. I felt a strange sensation settle over me, which, instead of fading as it normally did for me, persisted.


    ¡°Focus on circulating your essence.¡± She ordered, ¡°I want you to concentrate it in your chest.¡±


    I closed my eyes and took control of my soul. With careful manipulation, I began to adjust the flow of essence, shunting it away from my extremities and into the core of my body. The leg which I had injured with my last awareness spell sent me a sharp needle of pain in protest.


    ¡°Good,¡± She said, ¡°Now push it out to your extremities, as much as you can.¡±


    I complied, leaving only the barest amount in my core.


    ¡°Is that it?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Any more and I¡¯ll black out,¡± I said dryly, ¡°Or suffer acute organ failure.¡±


    ¡°You could afford to push out just a little more,¡± She said, ¡°but this is acceptable. Now, reverse the flow.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Reverse the flow of your essence.¡± She said.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know how.¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Attune yourself with me.¡± She said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to maintain the attunement spell that long.¡± I said.


    ¡°You really are a child in many ways,¡± Megaine muttered, ¡°Why is it that you know so many things, yet so little about what is really important, especially for a holder of a great soul?¡±


    I shifted uncomfortably, ¡°I¡¯m from a very small town, we don¡¯t have many great or middling souls.¡±


    Technically the truth. There were no people with ¡®souls¡¯ where I came from, as far as the Esturian definition of what a soul was.


    ¡°Besides,¡± I continued, ¡°I have only had access to practical magic for the past month. I only know the attunement and awareness spells.¡±


    She sighed, ¡°Focus on holding the pattern of the spell in your mind. If you can do that, it will continue operating.¡±


    I did as she said, only to fail several times before finally getting the trick down. I was certain that her own body¡¯s pain and nausea were no small factor in my constant loss of concentration.


    ¡°Good,¡± She said, ¡°Now feel the way that I am doing this.¡±


    Essence flowed through her body. I watched with a great amount of curiosity. I had known that Megaine was a skilled hydromancer, but this was in another realm completely. One moment, her essence was flowing along the pattern of her vascular system, from arteries to veins, then suddenly, the flow reversed, now moving in the opposite direction. I dropped the attunement spell from awe at the grace of it.


    ¡°Amazing.¡± I muttered.


    I had opened my eyes and saw a hint of a smile on her face, ¡°Now you try.¡±


    After half hour, Megaine called a stop to our meditation.


    ¡°You are progressing.¡± She said, rising to her feet, ¡°The amount of essence that your soul holds makes control harder. Once you master this trick I suggest you seek out a gray mage to teach you a more advanced technique. I will see to finding one used by white mages.¡±


    Gratitude surged through me at that, ¡°Thank you, I owe you one.¡±


    Megaine clenched and released a fist, watching the hand¡¯s motions before replying, ¡°On the contrary, it seems that once again I am in your debt Ethan Dyre. Though I do wish you had thought of this before now.¡±


    I hung my head, ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She shrugged, ¡°What is done is done. Next time you give somebody a poison to fight a terminal illness, make sure that you give them what you have just given me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave dosing instructions with Raila.¡± I said.


    Megaine shook her head, ¡°No, I am still uncertain as to the loyalty of the staff aside from Vesk. Give me the directions and I will prepare it myself.¡±


    As the voices in my head made themselves known, my mind no longer distracted by the meditation, I had a sudden thought.


    ¡°Megaine!¡± I burst out.


    Megaine, who had been heading for the door, paused and turned to regard me with a raised eyebrow.


    ¡°Solus is a black mage and the one who had you poisoned,¡± I said, my mind racing along with those whispers, ¡°What if¡­ what if he has subverted someone in your household like he tried to do with me? If he spent enough time with someone, he could get them to forsake any oath, even without going through the proper rites of releasing someone from it. He might even be able to break one with magic alone. I don¡¯t know for sure.¡±


    Megaine froze, then her eyes went distant as she ran through the implications. When her gaze sharpened again, she regarded me with something akin to respect.


    ¡°I had not thought of that,¡± She admitted, ¡°I will need to speak to a member of the Seekers immediately, they will be able to identify someone whose mind had been tampered with by black magic.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll come with you!¡± I said.


    She held out a hand, ¡°To the lair of black mages? You have an appointment there tomorrow already. I suggest you spend this time fabricating a truth that you can use to convince them without having to reveal your identity as a white mage.¡±


    I stopped, ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Take heart Ethan,¡± She said, ¡°As I told you, a technical truth is as good as the whole truth. Tell the truth, just not all of it.¡±


    I nodded, though the thought of confronting another black mage right now made me want to be violently ill. I ignited a burst of white magic to calm my heaving stomach. Though I was sure that Megaine spotted the brief flash of white in my eyes, she said nothing. I was grateful.

 The First Step

    Left to myself in the Arefina manor, aside from the servants, who still refused to chat with me unless I cornered them, I found myself in a sorry state. On the one hand, whenever I laid down to rest, the voices in the back of my head started coming to the fore. On the other, I was so exhausted and worn down that all I really wanted to do was sleep. I was caught between the need for relaxation, and the inability to do so. I groaned and tried stuffing a pillow over my head, only to have the voices seem to grow in volume due to the lack of external input.


    Disgruntled, I rose and went to my workbench. There were several books laid out for me, possibly recommendations by some alchemist that Tylee knew. I tried reading through one, only to find that Solus¡¯ constant nagging made it hard to concentrate.


    With a growl, I slammed the book shut and gazed out the window. Fall was coming on steadily, and the chill in the air outside might be just the thing to help clear my head. Not bothering to don anything over the simple shirt and trousers supplied to me by the Arefinas, I strode outside.


    The cold air did have a mind-clearing effect, and I found that walking about and distracting myself with the flow reversal exercise did keep the demons in my head at bay. In my wanderings, I stumbled across a wood shed. I stared perplexed at it for a long while before berating myself for not realizing that even a magically inclined household like this would need wood for heating.


    From the carefully stacked pile which lay against the house, I could tell that the shed was probably full. There was also a small wagon filled to the brim with uncut wood. I glanced over at the chopping block, a large stump with an ax embedded in it. I once had a friend whose father put me and him to work over a summer splitting wood for their woodstove. I couldn¡¯t think of anything better to do with my time while I thought of how I was going to pull one over on some black mages who could not be lied to.


    Taking up the ax, I grabbed the first piece of wood and began splitting it into pieces that were roughly equivalent to the ones already stacked nearby. Upon checking, I found that the woodshed was already full, so I continued the work of whoever had been laying up against the side of the building itself.


    The work wasn¡¯t enough to make me tired, but it did distract me enough that I could start formulating some phrases. After some time, I came to realize that what I needed to do was cement in my thoughts the things that I shouldn¡¯t say, rather than a list of things that I should say. I would certainly need some kind of speech, one that I would write down later, for my actual testimony about what had happened, but I had no doubt that Captain Quentus would want to question me further. That was where I was afraid of tripping up. The man was not only a mind mage, but probably a trained interrogator, I didn¡¯t doubt that he knew how best to get information out of someone who was trying to hide it.


    At some point, I looked up and realized that the wagon was empty. Blinking, I fell out of the fugue state into which I had let myself descend. Before the nattering voices or my body¡¯s craving for white magic could set in, a voice spoke up.


    ¡°I did not realize that my daughters had hired on more help, I will have to speak to them about that.¡± A dry voice noted.


    I spun to face the speaker, raising my axe slightly.


    The person confronting was hidden largely by the shadows of the falling night, though I could make a lean frame that moved with poise that I normally associated with Megaine. My brain caught up with my ears and I realized the person who was addressing me. Feeling mildly foolish, I lowered my weapon and spoke.


    ¡°Duke Arefina?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ah,¡± He said with a trickle of amusement, ¡°Then you recognize me.¡±


    I shook my head, wondering if he could even make out he gesture, ¡°I¡¯m afraid not your grace. It¡¯s mostly from what you said just now.¡±


    He chuckled dryly, ¡°I see. It is interesting, the servants have noted that we have a guest in the house, but I come out here to find a man chopping wood of all things. I did not realize that the hospitality of my house had fallen so far as to treating guests like common laborers.¡±


    ¡°It helps me think,¡± I responded, then added, ¡°I¡¯m also working through a round of strength enhancing elixirs. This should help me improve the outcome.¡±


    ¡°An alchemist sampling his own wares Master Dyre?¡± The duke said, ¡°You must certainly be successful to be able to afford that kind of luxury.¡±


    ¡°I get along well enough,¡± I admitted, ¡°But most alchemists with any talent do.¡±


    He gave that dry chuckle again, ¡°Why don¡¯t we retire inside, I don¡¯t know about you, but it is rather chilly out here. I wouldn¡¯t want you to catch a cold.¡±


    I shivered as the cold wind brushed against my sweat-soaked shirt, sending needles of ice down the length of my body.


    ¡°Of course, your grace.¡± I replied.


    We entered the house and I finally got a good look at the man about whom I had heard many things, but never actually seen. He looked rather plain to tell the truth. Dark brown hair, a slightly angular face, though not to the level of Tylee¡¯s sharpness, and hazel eyes which were only mildly impinged by a ring of green. It was very strange, Duke Arefina did not act like any aerotheurge I had met, though that may have been the result of his lower-middling soul.


    He stood about a head shorter than me, but like his daughters, somehow managed to make me seem like the smaller person as we spoke.


    ¡°I find it very strange to have my daughters playing host to an alchemist, even if he does have a great soul.¡± He said conversationally, ¡°Even one who was instrumental in Megaine¡¯s sudden revival.¡±


    ¡°How do you know so much about me?¡± I asked, rather than answering his implied question.


    He gave another dry chuckle, ¡°Knowledge is power young alchemist. I never enter a confrontation without knowing my enemy as well as they know themselves.¡±


    I sincerely doubted that he knew nearly that much about me, but I was willing to believe that he had done his homework.


    ¡°Are we having a confrontation your grace?¡± I asked, trying to be tactful.


    I was a little hazy on the exact rules, but I was pretty sure that he could have me thrown out of the house until Tylee was officially recognized as the head of the house, being the last remaining viable heir. Even then, I was not sure that I wanted to spend any amount of time in a place with a man who actively disliked me. Vesk was bad enough, and he had very little influence.


    The man turned to face me, ¡°That really depends on what comes of this little meeting between us Master Dyre. I am not prepared to discount your presence as a move on some other house¡¯s part. The fact that you are an unattached element makes me suspicious. Am I to believe that nobody is pulling your strings?¡±


    I held up my hands, ¡°I am a member of the Alchemists¡¯ Guild. I wouldn¡¯t say that I am entirely without affiliations.¡±


    He snorted, ¡°A collection of craftsmen banding together in the hopes of keeping their petty secrets and wielding a little power. House Telum and Kandarr are heavily invested in the art of alchemy. Perhaps they had one of their agents within the guild send you. The guild is as much a puppet as any other venture in Esturia.¡±


    I tried the direct approach, ¡°What can I do to convince you that I am not a threat to your house?¡±


    He smiled at that, ¡°I can see why Tylee has taken a shine to you, you are almost as direct as she is. To your question, I suppose that I would settle for an oath of fealty.¡±


    I shook my head, ¡°I don¡¯t think that you need something that extreme.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He raised an eyebrow, ¡°Do I not? From what I have been told, you are well apprised of the situation facing my house. What makes you think that I do not require exactly that kind of assurance before I continue allowing you to have unfettered access to my manor?¡±


    ¡°Because I know that you are desperate enough to need allies where you can get them.¡± I replied, feeling a small surge of anger, ¡°Ask me something else.¡±


    ¡°My, you are confident in yourself,¡± He said, ¡°You realize that I could have you beaten for speaking like that?¡±


    ¡°If that is what you wanted you could have easily had it done to me for being on your property without your express permission.¡± I noted.


    I wisely decided not to call him out on the game he was playing with me. I was certain that trying to cut this dance short would result in me having to trudge my way back to Tanna¡¯s house in the middle of the night.


    ¡°Ah, quick at times too.¡± He drawled, ¡°That would be why Megaine hasn¡¯t run you off. How about Vesk?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he would chase me out if he had the authority.¡± I said.


    The duke laughed, ¡°A trait I treasure in the man. He has pushed more would-be suitors out of this house without any more than that glare of his.¡±


    Was the duke joking around with me?


    Mirth faded from his eyes as he met mine, ¡°Do not take me lightly Master Dyre. I may not possess the magical strength of my daughters, but I am more than capable of destroying you, should you prove dangerous to this house. I believe you are creative and pragmatic enough to figure out what kind of oath I would require of you. If you cannot supply this, then I suggest you leave, as I have no need of fools or traitors.¡±


    The cold tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine, and I almost reached for the comfort of white magic, only stopping myself when I saw how closely he was regarding me.


    ¡°I understand your grace.¡± I responded, ¡°I swear on my power that I have no intentions of harming your house. Tylee is a friend, and I would not like to see her hurt.¡±


    He watched me for a moment, then shrugged, ¡°That is sufficient for now. In all honesty, I would throw you out anyway if you had not been able to cure Megaine. I was worried about how her sudden reappearance would affect my marriage negotiations, but after renouncing her claim, the situation has become remarkably simple.¡±


    I felt a small pang at the mention of a ¡®cure,¡¯ but managed to nod in agreement. Solus¡¯ voice encouraged me to give in to that despair. I reminded him that he was just a disembodied voice in my head. He did not seem to appreciate that.


    Then the import of his statement hit me. This man had openly admitted that Megaine¡¯s revival had been an inconvenience rather than an occasion for joy. My estimation of the man dropped several notches.


    ¡°Master Dyre?¡± Duke Arefina¡¯s voice drew me from my reverie.


    ¡°Your grace?¡± I asked, shaking my head, ¡°My apologies, I have a bad habit of getting caught up in my own thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Do try to control yourself better,¡± He noted dryly, continuing forward with me in tow, ¡°You will be torn apart at the presentation ceremony if you drift off that easily.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± I asked, hurrying to keep up with the man.


    He raised an eyebrow at me, ¡°You are registered as a great soul with the city, yes?¡±


    I nodded, it was one of the first things I had done after arriving in the city. The rulers of Aramor liked to keep track of all of the truly powerful magicians which wandered the lands. If I were caught without proper registration, I would have at least spent a few days in a cell, explaining to the city guard why a great soul was wandering around incognito. While I did not consider myself on the level of someone like Tylee, I did have a great soul, which was the technical definition by which the registry worked.


    ¡°Well then,¡± He said, ¡°You will be expected to present yourself at the harvest ball. It is a simple matter of course. Megaine has already taken the liberty of registering house Arefina as your sponsor, though that will not become public knowledge until you are formally presented to the first lady.¡±


    Alarm bells went off in my head. Mostly the ones that warned me that I was being manipulated. Those had been remarkable sensitive lately. I wondered briefly if I were becoming a delusional paranoid. Then again, paranoia is only delusional paranoia if no one is after you. I had good reason to believe that at least one person was after me.


    ¡°I-¡° I began.


    ¡°Father.¡± Megaine said as she stepped into our path.


    ¡°Megaine!¡± Duke Arefina said, the delight apparent in his voice, ¡°It is good to see you on your feet!¡±


    ¡°Good enough that you thought it would be of more interest to engage an alchemist in idle chatter than look for your recently ill daughter?¡± She asked, her voice even icier than the few times she had turned her coldness on me.


    Duke Arefina chuckled, ¡°I admit that I was curious about Master Dyre. Could you forgive an old man his interests? Especially considering the fact that you were out when I arrived?¡±


    Megaine¡¯s eyes shifted between the two of us, then she made up her mind about something, ¡°I would appreciate it if you could give me some time with Ethan.¡±


    Duke Arefina¡¯s eyebrow rose at her usage of my first name. He looked between the two of us in a similar manner to how Megaine had just been regarding myself and the Duke. At length, he nodded.


    ¡°I would like to speak with you on the morrow, my dearest daughter.¡± He said.


    Megaine nodded very precisely, ¡°Of course father.¡±


    Without further words, Megaine swept me off down the hall. When we had gained some distance, she turned into a small sitting room and seated us opposite each other on furniture that felt more ornamental than comfortable. Though the upholstery did have a lovely shade of red that matched the house banner of Arefina.


    ¡°I see you met father,¡± She said, ¡°Did he get any oaths out of you?¡±


    ¡°I swore that I had no intention of harming the house of Arefina.¡± I admitted, ¡°But that was never in the cards for me.¡±


    ¡°You should not be so casual with oaths,¡± Megaine warned, ¡°There is a reason why the oaths we take to the various institutions are pre-written by lawyers. A carelessly worded oath can have far-reaching effects.¡±


    ¡°He was threatening to throw me out.¡± I said.


    Megaine shrugged, ¡°Tylee and I can easily meet with you at other places. It is a minor inconvenience, but it would be better than having you hamstrung by a poorly worded oath.¡±


    I hung my head. She was right. I was used to a world where people habitually broke their word. It was an ugly part of the place where I came from. Here on Esturia, broken oaths had special power, and I would do well to remember that. I would have to start vetting my words more carefully.


    ¡°You are worried about our sponsorship.¡± Megaine said, interrupted my thoughts.


    I looked up, ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Are you holding out for a better offer from another house?¡± She asked.


    I shook my head, ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°I will be honest with you Ethan.¡± She said, ¡°We are entering dangerous waters. I need either a commitment, or a promise that you will detach yourself completely from us.¡±


    ¡°Are you so eager to get rid of me?¡± I wondered aloud, ¡°You know how I feel about this.¡±


    ¡°And I have shared with you why your feelings are more than foolish,¡± She said, ¡°You have a great soul Ethan, you will become embroiled in Aramoran politics the moment you set foot in the presentation chamber. The Alchemists¡¯ Guild has a great deal of influence, but you are not their official representative, and they are beholden to other houses.¡±


    ¡°So I need to choose someone to hold my leash?¡± I asked bitterly.


    ¡°I am seeking to make an ally of you, not a dog.¡± She stated coldly, ¡°If you wish to remain a free agent, I suggest you run off to join an adventuring party, or back to the collegium. Forget we ever existed, live your life. Let us die. Anything less, and you will continue to be a target. You might be best served by returning to Vern for some years if you decide to spurn us.¡±


    I had really been hoping to catch a break, but I knew that she was right. The Alchemists¡¯ Guild could protect me in terms of my efforts as an alchemist, but their power was limited. To be honest, the power of house Arefina was limited as well. Tylee had already pointed out to me that other houses were keeping their distance so as not to be dragged down.


    But I had already admitted to Duke Arefina that I considered Tylee a friend. I was even growing somewhat fond of Megaine, though she had a bad habit of setting me on edge when she tried to maneuver me like a piece on a chessboard. I had a choice to make right now. I could either cut ties with the Arefinas, or go all in. I had fooled myself into thinking that I could play this game from both sides, remaining an unassociated alchemist, while lending my assistance to Tylee when she needed me.


    The time for that had passed me by the moment I set foot in the city. The fate of the Arefinas, and if I were reading between the lines of Orianna¡¯s charge correctly, Aramor as a whole, were rushing towards a terrible conclusion. I had already been able to avert one crisis and delay another, but I felt certain that more problems were on the way. Not just for the Arefinas, but for all of Esturia. I had a feeling that the goddess of light and life did not often involve herself in the politics of ancient Aramoran houses. Not unless there was something more on the line.


    I could not just step aside and let the Arefinas die, not when I still had even the slightest hope of keeping them alive. I had no interest in politics, but I did have an interest in two women who were heavily embroiled in it. I cared about them. Sometimes caring about people means doing things that you do not want to do.


    ¡°What do I do?¡± I sighed.


    Surprisingly, Megaine smiled, ¡°For now, nothing. Go back to your studies, work on this cure you keep talking about. Tylee should be confirmed during the presentation. At that point, she will be able to make you an official associate of the house.¡±


    ¡°And what exactly is an associate?¡± I wondered.


    ¡°It is a trial,¡± She said, ¡°Houses have many associates, usually upper middling mages or great souls who are born outside of the houses. For some, being an associate is as far as they will go, for others, offers of vassalage or adoption will come.¡±


    ¡°You want me to become a vassal?¡± I asked, feeling rather leery at that word.


    She smiled a mysterious smile, ¡°Or something.¡±


    I wondered what she could mean by that.


    She rose to her feet, then paused, as if she had forgotten something, ¡°Oh, and Ethan?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I asked warily.


    ¡°Leave the tavern crawling to Vesk, he¡¯s much better suited to that sort of thing.¡± She said mildly.


    I could not disagree with her there.


    As I settled into bed that night, I found myself anxiously waiting for¡­ something. Searching my thoughts, I realized the things that I was waiting for.


    Solus.


    I curled up, comforting myself with a bit of white magic. The most terrifying thing about the whole situation was, I was not sure whether I was more relieved or disappointed that I would not be seeing my former captor.


    Orianna help me.

 The Seekers of Truth

    Tylee was with me the next morning. Although I was used to her being reserved, she was even more subdued than usual. Despite my efforts, she only responded to me in simple sentences before we left the manor. Only when we were on approach to the temple of Tyr did her newfound stoicism fade. Whatever Tylee was worried about, it was obvious that she was just as concerned about how I was going to handle my upcoming interview.


    To be honest, I was more than a little leery myself.


    ¡°Everything will be alright.¡± Tylee muttered, a firm hand resting on my shoulder.


    ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re not the one being interrogated by mind mages,¡± I pointed out, ¡°Mind mages who most recently slapped your brain around for a couple days.¡±


    She grimaced, then turned her eyes to the temple, ¡°The Seekers of Truth are nothing like the monster you faced.¡±


    The temple of Tyr was an imposing edifice. While the temple of Orianna was constructed of marble, and practically shone through the daily efforts of temple dedicants, the structure before us was of a subdued dark gray. I suppose it would have been too on the nose for them to make it completely black. It was still ominous in any case. Where the temple of Orianna had soft, gentle curves, the temple of Tyr was constructed in the more gothic sense. All sharp angles and pointy spires.


    The fact that it doubled as the courthouse of the city probably didn¡¯t help my interpretation of its fa?ade. Still, they could have tried to make it a little more welcoming.


    ¡°Captain Quentus will be utilizing a spell to detect lies, not a full mind read, or even a probe.¡± She said.


    ¡°Are you sure that you don¡¯t have something more important to do?¡± I wondered aloud, ¡°Like counter the machinations of your father?¡±


    She raised an eyebrow at me, ¡°Are you aware of any plots by my father which need to be¡­ countered?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted, ¡°He just seems like that kind of guy.¡±


    She smiled gently, ¡°Father does his best for the house in his own way. Though what is best for the house is not always the best for the individual.¡±


    ¡°So you admit he might be up to something which will have unfortunate effects for you?¡± I asked.


    She shrugged, ¡°Besides arranging my marriage?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I said, ¡°That too. How is that going by the way?¡±


    Tylee grimaced again, ¡°Not well. Anyone who will take our offer is not in a position to provide us enough with advantage. Anyone who could offer something substantial wants too many concessions.¡±


    ¡°Do you like any of them?¡± I asked hesitantly.


    She regarded me, ¡°By that, I assume that you mean my heart, rather than my judgement.¡±


    I nodded.


    She sighed, ¡°To be honest, I do not know any of them. What I do know is that I have a duty to my house, and that duty must be fulfilled. Were I still a member of the order, I would seek out a companion to whom I could entrust my heart. As it stands, I must make a union which would not degrade my power.¡±


    ¡°That seems very¡­ sad.¡± I admitted.


    Something flashed through Tylee¡¯s eyes when I said that. I knew the woman well enough to see that she too was disappointed by this turn of events. Duty will only carry you so far. It seemed that Tylee was reaching some kind of breaking point in hers.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± I said, touching her arm, ¡°I hope that you can find someone who makes you happy.¡±


    She smiled back, though it was strained, ¡°It is one of many things for which I beseech the goddess every day.¡±


    The moment of vulnerability faded, leaving behind the strong, imposing woman whom I had come to know. Her eyes flashed for a moment as she met my eyes.


    ¡°Come Master Dyre,¡± She said peremptorily, ¡°I feel as though you are playing my emotions to give yourself more time.¡±


    I grinned, ¡°My lady!¡±


    She raised an eyebrow at the shocked note in my voice. I was not fooling her with that. I will not deny that it was part of my intent, but in all honesty, I was worried for Tylee. I covertly watched her out of the corner of my eye as we ascended the steps to the temple. Lines which had previously been absent now ran along the outer side of her eyes, and her brow looked like it spent a little too much time being furrowed. Being the prospective heir of her house was taking a toll on Tylee.


    With our banter subsided, the cold sense of dread that had been building since we set out this morning began to grow again. The only thing that kept me moving was Tylee¡¯s solid presence beside me.


    ¡°We are here to meet with Captain Quentus.¡± Tylee said, addressing a skinny man seated behind a desk.


    The man squinted up at us through a pair of spectacles, ¡°Ah, you must be the lady Arefina. Wait here for a moment. Boy!¡±


    The last was a shout, and one of a group of young men hurried over to him. He gave the youth instructions, then sent him scurrying away.


    ¡°Novices.¡± The man noted dryly, ¡°I swear that they just don¡¯t make them like they used to.¡±


    I glanced over at Tylee, who was smirking.


    ¡°The Sisterhood has no trouble with their dedicants.¡± She pointed out smugly.


    The man peered at her again and harrumphed, ¡°You would be the sister who was a member of the Sisterhood of Light then?¡±


    Tylee grinned, ¡°The very same.¡±


    The man scowled, ¡°It¡¯s funny that you should mention the sisterhood. We had a dedicant in the other day who wouldn¡¯t stop chatting and giggling. The girl likely had little more than air between her ears.¡±


    It was Tylee¡¯s turn to scowl, ¡°This girl wouldn¡¯t have a name, would she?¡±


    The man grinned, ¡°It seems to have slipped my mind as of now. It¡¯s so hard to differentiate the sisters one from another. They seem to be cut from the same cloth.¡±


    I looked between the two of them. It was almost like they were trying to one-up, or in this case, denigrate each other. Was there some kind of rivalry between the orders of the two gods of the Aramorans?


    ¡°Who is this then?¡± The man asked, indicating me, ¡°He¡¯s too old to put on a novice robe, but we could always use more lay brothers.¡±


    ¡°He serves the goddess.¡± Tylee said primly, gripping my arm possessively.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you two wouldn¡¯t treat me like a bone between two dogs.¡± I said dryly.


    The two focused hard gazes on me. Luckily, I was saved by the return of the novice.


    ¡°Master Beckham,¡± He said, ¡°Captain Quentus has asked me to take them back to his office.¡±


    Master Beckham paused, then nodded, ¡°Very well, but mind you keep an eye on this one.¡±


    He indicated Tylee.


    ¡°She¡¯s a member of the Sisterhood, you know how much trouble they can be.¡±


    The novice looked like he would rather melt into the floor than do any such thing, but he nodded weakly. I would have tried to offer him some encouragement, but my own sense of impending doom was making me remarkably silent. Tylee and Beckham¡¯s interaction had distracted me, but now the show was on, I was worried.


    The novice led us through a series of corridors adorned with the ubiquitous symbol of Tyr. The image was that of an eye, below which were three vertical commas, as if three tears were escaping it. According to official church doctrine, Tyr had an all-seeing eye. Not entirely surprising considering the fact that he was the patron god of black mages. The tears were a mystery to me though.


    ¡°Why the three marks below the eye?¡± I asked the novice, letting my curiosity out to quash my fear.


    The novice quickly responded, ¡°Tyr is the god of justice, mercy, and perseverance. The first is the tear he wept when humans were little more than animals. They were weak of body and had not yet learned to use their minds. With his first tear, he bestowed upon humanity the power of reason.¡±


    ¡°And the second?¡± I asked.


    ¡°When men used their reason to dominate and subdue one another, Tyr wept again,¡± The novice continued, the story well-rehearsed in his memory, ¡°With that tear, he graced men with the law of Tyr, that all might be judged righteously.¡±


    ¡°How does that work in practice?¡± I asked, rather skeptical.


    The novice tried to puff himself up, ¡°We strive to seek the truth in all things and judge it so.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t have that many black mages.¡± I pointed out.


    The young man deflated, ¡°No¡­ But there are a good number of investigators and judges who can do almost as well.¡±


    ¡°What about corruption.¡± I asked.


    Even Tylee looked scandalized at that, ¡°Ethan!¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°When people gain power, they abuse it. Tell me I am wrong.¡±


    Tylee arched an eyebrow at me.


    ¡°See.¡± I pointed out, ¡°All that power has gone straight to your head.¡±


    The novice did not seem to have an answer for me, so I shrugged it off, ¡°What about the third?¡±


    The novice hesitated, ¡°We¡­ do not know.¡±


    Well, that was startling.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    The novice shrugged, ¡°The records are silent as to why there is a third tear. It has been handed down to us from the time of the breaking. Some ancient shrines to Tyr in the Broken Lands only have two tears. We assume that it has something to do with the breaking, but during that time¡­ much was lost.¡±


    I was still trying to work out why a religion would leave such a hole in their doctrine.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there a story or something?¡± I asked.


    The novice looked at me with horror, ¡°A fabrication? Of the records?!¡±


    ¡°Ethan!¡± Tylee snapped, ¡°I believe that is enough.¡±


    I quieted down. Based on the reaction of the two, I assumed that putting something that was not verifiable in these records of theirs was a major taboo. I had met one of the gods of this world, so I could only assume that Tyr had appeared to someone and literally given the people a basis for the laws by which their kingdom was run. Maybe something like the ten commandments from my world? I decided that it was worth looking in to.


    We arrived at Captain Quentus¡¯ office without me digging myself any further into the bad graces of the church of Tyr, though the novice gave me a sulky look as he left. I felt sure that the other novices, and possibly Beckham, would be hearing of my blasphemy. Some day I am going to learn to keep my mouth shut.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    When we entered, Captain Quentus was working on a large stack of papers. He gestured for us to sit, took a few more moments on the form he was on, signed it, then looked up.


    ¡°Lady Arefina,¡± He said, ¡°Thank you for bringing Master Dyre to see me.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± She said, ¡°I will be remaining in the room for the interview. Ethan is not comfortable with black mages right now.¡±


    Captain Quentus nodded, ¡°If what you told me is true, then I have no doubt that there is good reason for it.¡±


    He turned to me, ¡°Master Dyre, would you tell me your tale, from the beginning?¡±


    I hesitated, looking over at Tylee. She nodded encouragingly. As I spoke, a strange sensation settled over my mind. Quentus was using his magic on me.


    As I described the events surrounding my capture and incarceration, Captain Quentus interjected questions of his own. At first, it was just to confirm certain things, but he soon started pointing out various inconsistencies which helped spark my own memory. The man was clearly a trained investigator. At length, I finished the description of my ordeal, going so far as to describe everything up to the point where had I met him.


    He sat back and regarded me for several seconds, then spoke, ¡°You are telling the truth.¡±


    ¡°Were you expecting something else?¡± I asked.


    He shrugged, ¡°Even when people know what I am, they try to lie to me. People lie out of habit. You haven¡¯t. You are either exceptionally honest, or you worked out your story beforehand.¡±


    I stayed silent. Quentus watched me with those eyes for a long moment.


    ¡°There¡¯s enough here for me to deal with anyway,¡± He said, ¡°Will you at least tell me that the things you have omitted are not a danger to myself or any other investigators?¡±


    I certainly felt that holding back the fact that I was a white mage was nothing that would cause them any problems, dangerous or otherwise.


    ¡°As far as I know, it should not be an issue.¡± I said, ¡°I would be surprised if it were.¡±


    He watched me carefully, then nodded, ¡°Very well. The lady Arefina vouches for you. I understand that some secrets must be kept. As a devotee of Tyr, I do not like it, but I can understand it. You mentioned that your mind was assaulted by this Solus. Would you like to requisition the services of a mind healer?¡±


    I shook my head, ¡°No. I don¡¯t want anyone in my head right now. Maybe ever.¡±


    ¡°It does help,¡± He said, ¡°So I am told anyway.¡±


    I clenched my fists, ¡°No.¡±


    He looked down, made a notation on his paper, then looked at me again, ¡°Very well. Then by Tyr¡¯s grace, I pronounce you innocent of any wrongdoing. May you always find truth.¡±


    I nodded my head in acceptance of the verdict, then felt the strange sensation of Quentus¡¯ black magic fade. Solus had been quiet the entire time that I had been speaking with Quentus. I suspected that the echoes of Solus¡¯ magic were particularly susceptible to the use of other black magic. Their sudden return set my teeth on edge.


    Quentus scribbled down something on a scrap of paper and handed it to me, ¡°This is a recommendation to Brother Joram at the Sanitarium. When the voices in your head get to be too much, I suggest you seek him out.¡±


    I blinked, ¡°You can hear them?¡±


    Quentus shrugged, ¡°It¡¯s more like an itch between my shoulder-blades. It feels like you were hit by several powerful compulsions. Though based on the cacophony, this Solus was unaware that a proper compulsion requires precise phrasing. He is probably used to being able to bull his way through mental defenses through main strength alone. I am honestly surprised that you aren¡¯t a drooling idiot.¡±


    I shivered, ¡°I think he wanted to use me for something, or at least get some information out of me.¡±


    Quentus nodded, ¡°Black magic is perhaps the only form of magic where being a great soul is more a detriment than a boon. He is likely more practiced at creating thralls by simply overpowering their minds. If he had tried doing so with you, it would have robbed him of the information he was looking for. Do you have any idea what he wanted from you?¡±


    ¡°The only real question he asked me was about my association with the Arefinas.¡± I said, ¡°Although, from what I was able to discern, he is some kind of¡­ collector. I mentioned the steel mage whom he keeps as a bodyguard. I get the feeling he has more than a few irregular mages hanging around. He might have just wanted to add a gray mage to that collection.¡±


    Quentus stroked his chin thoughtfully. Though he was clean shaven, I got the feeling that he was used to having a beard.


    ¡°Thank you for seeing us this way.¡± Tylee said, rising to her feet, ¡°I hope that we will meet again under more auspicious circumstances.¡±


    Quentus nodded absently, he was still lost in thought when we left. Tylee led me out of the temple and down the stairs leading up to it.


    ¡°What is your plan now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I will be taking you back to Mistress Tanna¡¯s home.¡± She replied, patting the sword at her hilt, ¡°I arranged with Master Derrick for the use of his forge. I was hoping you would spend some more time with my weapon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to stop at the library to gather my bag.¡± I noted, ¡°I left it with Master Norry. I had been working on something special.¡±


    She nodded, ¡°That is not an issue. It will be good to be away from the manor for some time anyways.¡±


    We traveled in silence, arriving at the collegium grounds in about fifteen minutes. Master Norry was mildly disgruntled to see me.


    ¡°Though the library is a repository for information, I would appreciate it if you would not treat it as a common storage facility, Master Dyre.¡± He muttered, ¡°And you should speak to your friends about their manners. Begging your pardon mistress.¡±


    Norry gave Tylee a bow with that. Tylee¡¯s eyes sparkled with amusement at the dressing down I was receiving.


    ¡°Wait, what friends?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That old fire mage who came by after you disappeared,¡± Master Norry grumped, ¡°Threatened to burn a book if I didn¡¯t tell him where you had gone!¡±


    I shared a look with Tylee, ¡°This fire mage wouldn¡¯t happen to have been a middle aged, muscular man with a short temper, would he?¡±


    Master Norry nodded emphatically, ¡°That¡¯s the one!¡±


    I sighed, ¡°Vesk isn¡¯t exactly a friend¡­ more like an acquaintance.¡±


    Master Norry just glared at me.


    ¡°I promise to do my best to keep him out of here,¡± I said, ¡°Besides, I think he might be allergic to reading anyway. I¡¯ve only ever seen him scowl at written words.¡±


    Master Norry rubbed the bridge of his nose and waved me off. I could tell that the librarian was relieved to see me, it was mostly the way that his wrinkled face had seemed to shed a couple years when I had first stepped up to the desk behind which he was organizing several stacks of literature.


    ¡°He seems to like you.¡± Tylee noted as we strolled towards Derrick¡¯s shop.


    ¡°He¡¯s a customer,¡± I said, ¡°I gave him a treatment for joint pain a few weeks ago. I also spend most of my time at the library. I don¡¯t know about friend, but he certainly seems to have me pegged as some sort of fixture for his library. Like a book that is always being borrowed, it might be gone most of the time, but it always returns home.¡±


    We chatted idly until we reached Derrick¡¯s forge. Upon entering, the large man took my hand in a strong grip.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± He said, a note of relief in his voice, ¡°It does my heart well to see you.¡±


    He released the grip and bowed to Tylee, ¡°And the Lady Arefina, you honor me once again with your presence.¡±


    ¡°Master Derrick.¡± She replied, nodding her head, ¡°I believe you offered me the use of your back room?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± He said, ushering us toward that area.


    Coming back to that little room was like coming home in a way that returning to the Arefina manor never would be. I had spent a lot of time here, laboring with my hands to create all sorts of objects. The workbench in the corner had doubled as an alchemy lab when I wanted to do experiments here rather than trek to the school. Maybe it was my gray magic talking, but when I was in a place like this, I felt a small measure of peace. Nobody expected me to make decisions here, they just wanted me to make objects.


    I realized belatedly, almost three years belatedly, that maybe gray magic was just as much a reflection of my heart¡¯s desire as it was my affinity for magic. I loved to create, I loved to build. A small part of the jealousy that had plagued me since I had found out my affinity died in that moment. I wasn¡¯t a cardinal mage, and now, I found that I had never truly wanted to be.


    ¡°My lady.¡± I held out my hand to Tylee.


    Wordlessly, she removed the blade from its sheathe and handed it to me. I inspected the blade carefully. I had worked my way through the minor imperfections of the weapon in the hours I had already spent maintaining it. The blade was honed to a razor¡¯s edge, normally a bad idea for such a blade, but not so when it was enhanced by the magic of a gray mage. There would be no point in sharpening it further.


    Instead, I went to the worn leather that encased the grip. Tylee had probably owned the sword for at least a decade. It was almost a waste to rebind the handle with leather, but it was the next logical step that I could think of, besides trying to put an inscription on the blade itself. I was not certain how the metal would react to some of my experiments with using acid to etch an inscription into a blade, so I had another plan in mind.


    I cut away the leather of the grip, revealing the steel core around which it had been wrapped, then went into my bag.


    While I was uncertain of whether I could inscribe something onto the steel of the blade itself, I was not so hesitant about a strip of leather. A standard design for essence storage ran the length of cured hide which I pulled from my bag, along with a simple steel ring that was very similar to my own. I had been devising this in the time between when Megaine had awoken and I had been taken.


    In a twist of fortune, my work with enchanting in Solus¡¯ dungeon had made me bold enough to make modifications of my own. I settled down to the workbench and began working an inscription into the leather, connecting it to the essence storage which would power it.


    I ruined a good thirty centimeters with false starts, but eventually got the design I was looking for. That completed, I began wrapping the handle of the blade. As I worked, I focused my will on the weapon and the leather. I convinced it that it was a part of the weapon, had always been a part of the weapon. They were not two separate parts, but one whole. The binding appeared to take.


    Standing up, I handed to ring to Tylee, ¡°Put that on and stand over there.¡±


    I gestured to the other side of the room. Tylee regarded the ring for a moment, then put it on the middle finger of her right hand. When she had taken her position, I carefully moved myself away from a direct line between her and the blade. My spatial ring did not work by actually moving objects, but I felt that taking a chance would be more than a little foolish.


    ¡°When you channel essence into the ring,¡± I said, ¡°The sword should¡­ well, it should appear in your hand. Just keep an eye on it. It shouldn¡¯t fly at you, but if it does, you¡¯ll need to dodge.¡±


    Tylee looked upon the ring with newfound respect and concern, then closed her eyes. I tried very hard not to blink as she moved into a fighter¡¯s stance.


    Her eyes flashed open and a quiet pop sounded in the room. Tylee was suddenly holding the weapon. We both stared at it for a long moment. I broke the silence by erupting in a cheer.


    ¡°Yes!¡± I yelled.


    Tylee¡¯s own face broke into a huge grin, and she sheathed the weapon before striding over to me and wrapping me in a bear hug. By the goddess this woman was bone crushingly strong.


    ¡°This is incredible!¡± She gushed, stepping back and summoning the weapon into her hand.


    ¡°Careful!¡± I warned, jumping back as the weapon materialized only a few centimeters from my body.


    Tylee had the decency to look apologetic, ¡°Sorry, I just¡­ I don¡¯t believe that anyone in the history of Esturia has owned a weapon quite like this. It will take some time to get used to it, and I will need to think very carefully about how best to use this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s range is fairly limited,¡± I warned, ¡°probably no more than thirty meters. The farther it is, the harder it will be to activate the ring.¡±


    She shrugged, ¡°I don¡¯t intend to throw it around. In fact, I see it as more useful in thwarting a surprise attack or making one. Many men and women have died with their weapons in their sheathes because they did not have time to draw them, or they were on the opposite side of a room when they were needed most. How did you come up with this?¡±


    I held up my own ring, ¡°It¡¯s a derivation of my storage and retrieval inscription set. My bag has a pocket dimension inscription inside of it, engraved on a plate of steel-gold alloy. When I need things, I channel a little bit of essence into my ring and speak the name of the object I want to retrieve. I figured that I could use the same inscription on the ring with a modified version of the storage inscription. There is a pocket dimension inscription on the leather of the hilt, which temporarily drops it into a pocket dimension, only to be immediately summoned by the ring.¡±


    She thought about that for a moment, ¡°Could I simply store the weapon in that dimensional space?¡±


    I shook my head, ¡°I tried that. I think the inscription being dropped into its own pocket dimension destabilizes it. The popping sound, if I am correct in my thinking, is the space collapsing moments after it forms. The inscription set works because the recall inscription summons it in the instant where the pocket dimension is in the act of collapsing. I ah¡­ lost more than a few objects when their dimension just ceased to exist. Being squeezed out of a pocket dimension does unfortunate things to the structural integrity of the object being forced out. Very ugly.¡±


    I had also understood why the merchant had insisted that I inscribe any storage inscriptions on an alloy, rather than pure gold, even though it was harder, and would reduce the total lifetime of the inscription. If that inscription were damaged badly enough, I would lose literally everything stored inside. I had started to hide money in my little room after that, with the hope that if something did happen to my bag, I would at least have some seed money left over with which to start rebuilding my finances.


    The merchant keeping the inscription inside of a solid steel lockbox was more than a matter of keeping it safe from thievery. It was to protect the products from being mangled beyond any hope of resale.


    Tylee sheathed the sword and faced me, ¡°I believe that you should remain here for a time.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, ¡°Are you sure that it is safe here?¡±


    ¡°Several of Vesk¡¯s associates have been contracted to keep an eye on you,¡± She replied, ¡°They are not spies, they are adventurers looking for a job between exploring the Broken Lands. They will be nearby.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± I hesitated, ¡°What is this really about Tylee. You were very reticent this morning. You know that you can talk to me, right? I want to help, however I can.¡±


    She took a moment after hearing that. I watched as she pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear, then nodded as she made some sort of decision.


    ¡°This is not something that you can help me with,¡± She said, ¡°It is a matter of honor and duty. I must be alone to make several decisions, and I cannot do that while you are in the manor.¡±


    I examined her features, ¡°Tylee, I-¡°


    ¡°Ethan, please,¡± She cut me off, her voice quiet, ¡°My shoulders are already bowed under my obligations. Do not increase my suffering. Just let me go.¡±


    I opened my mouth, saw a flash of pain in her eyes, then snapped it shut. I bowed my head and nodded. For now, I would hold my peace.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She said, touching my shoulder.


    I leaned against the bench and watched the door swing shut behind Tylee. Derrick poked his head in to see my morose face. He glanced after Tylee, then sighed and stepped into the room.


    ¡°Women are always trouble.¡± He noted sagely, patting me on the shoulder, ¡°Especially the ones who cannot decide whether or not they want to kiss you or slap you. Like my wife.¡±


    ¡°I heard that Derrick!¡± Came Tanna¡¯s voice.


    Derrick rolled his eyes, then headed back to his shop, ¡°Stop eavesdropping, dearest!¡±


    I looked around the small room where I had been working metal since arriving in Aramor city. Bereft of other things to do and wanting nothing more than to forget the past week, I set to work. If I had my way, no horse in all of the kingdom would be without high quality shoes, and every carpenter in miles would wonder why the price of nails had gotten so cheap.


    I thought that I might even pour myself into a few blades or do some artificing. I strapped on my apron and got to work.


    That night, when Solus whispered to me, I dove into the little hole I had made for myself in my mind and slept like a babe. The silence was bliss.

 To Believe in Hope

    Tink


    Tink


    Tink


    The rhythmic motion of the hammer in my hands was a comfort. Sweat rolled across my muscles, and I could literally feel the strength elixir I had just taken acting on my body. Elixirs don¡¯t increase muscle mass, they actually invoke a magical change in the structure of muscle. There are many monsters which are far stronger than their size would suggest. By harnessing some of those attributes and precise formulae, an alchemist can literally change the composition of a person¡¯s muscles.


    In a way, an alchemist could turn people into monsters. I tried not to think about that too hard. After all, I personally knew many people who had completed several level four elixir regimens. Tylee was the most human person I knew, and she was probably at the fourth or fifth level of elixir. I carefully steered my thoughts away from the daughter-heir of the Arefina family.


    While the various levels of elixirs do not have a set maximum by which they may increase a user¡¯s strength, they are subject to the laws of diminishing returns. Further, the rate at which their effects depreciated was exponential, not linear in scale. To top that off, if you wanted to ¡®skip¡¯ a level of elixirs, say you wanted to start at level two rather than level one, there could be some serious consequences. Stepwise improvement was the way to go.


    It seemed an interesting intersection, that on the first day of my last level two elixir, I would forge my first steel weapon. This was the third day that I had been back at Tanna¡¯s place, and I had taken advantage of Derrick¡¯s forge for most of that time. It was a little easier to ignore my craving for white magic and Solus¡¯ constant whispers when I had a hammer in my hand and the ringing of metal in my ears.


    As my body worked, my mind did too.


    Solus had told me that the parasite inside of Megaine was a dead god. Well, it was a part of the body of a dead god. I was not entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, but it certainly left me with a lot of questions.


    Who was this dead god?


    I supposed I could go pray to Orianna. Of course, she might not answer me. I was still unclear on how I could open that specific line of communication. As far as I could tell, Orianna spoke to me at her leisure, not at mine.


    Why was the dead body of this god killing mages?


    Had mages insulted this god, or possibly even killed it?


    How does one go about killing something that is already dead?


    As I worked the forge, I could see the steel forming before my eyes. I had a specific design in mind. It would be a promise of sorts. I hoped that it would be complete and that I would have the opportunity to present it to its new owner soon. I also had one more trick up my sleeve.


    While forging the blade, I focused my will upon it, pushing a pattern deep within its heart. I was not positive if an inscription could be placed inside of a blade, but I was going to do my best to do so. If I failed, I would still produce a superior blade. I would worry about enchanting it later if that came to pass.


    As for the inscription itself, I had made a short pilgrimage to the Arefina manor, where Bertram had let me into the library for a couple hours to browse their books. Sure enough, they had a few that dealt specifically with enchanting. I had selected an inscription that I felt would be most appropriate for the user, and spent some time copying it down, then memorizing it. I had been careful not to run into Tylee while I was there. I was uncertain of how either of us would react at the sight of the other.


    My long hours of practice with inscribing practice made the task of copying the design simple. Transferring it into a blade by holding the pattern in my mind and pushing it out with magic? Not so simple. I hoped that I was doing it right.


    ¡°Ethan!¡± Derrick called, ¡°¡¯Nother one of those white-haired girls is here to see you.¡±


    ¡®Another?¡¯ I thought.


    Setting aside my tools, I set the blade back in the coals of the forge. I had been working on it for several hours, so it would withstand the heat for quite a while before any damage could occur. Sometimes it¡¯s good to be gray.


    I stepped out into the shop and saw Megaine. Her eyes froze me in my tracks, and I saw them move up and down my body several times before she gestured me to come closer. I complied.


    ¡°Wash up,¡± She said, ¡°We need to go for a walk.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It has to do with my sister.¡± She said perfunctorily, then left before I could reply.


    ¡°You should really try to make less dangerous friends,¡± Derrick noted, ¡°I¡¯ll be a fool in the circus if that girl isn¡¯t a tidemistress.¡±


    ¡°You do know that I have a great soul, right?¡± I asked him, watching Megaine as she took up position outside the shop, her gaze coolly painting frost across the traffic moving through the street.


    ¡°Sure,¡± He said, ¡°But you don¡¯t act like it. That girl, she probably has more enemies than friends, you can see it in the way she walks. I thought she was going to quench the forge when I told her you were busy. There are people with great souls, and people who show their great souls. It¡¯s all about how you act.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I won¡¯t ever act like Megaine.¡± I noted.


    He snorted, ¡°I hope not. I would prefer to not have to try and find a way to tactfully eject you from my house.¡±


    Chuckling, I carefully set the blade I was working on to cool in a bucket of sand, then went up to fulfill Megaine¡¯s request. I was proud of the fact that I didn¡¯t burn any white magic to relieve the soreness of my muscles. I made my way down to the street and stepped up beside Megaine. Without further comment, she began walking.


    I followed.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The tailor.¡± She said.


    ¡°You came here to take me to the tailor?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I came to speak with you,¡± She said, ¡°I believe I already made that clear.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just surprising,¡± I said, ¡°I would have expected you to send for me.¡±


    ¡°Normally, I would have,¡± She said dryly, ¡°But the manor has been a little on edge since the daughter-heir dropped her pet alchemist off. She spends every moment of her spare time on the practice field with that sword. She won¡¯t let anyone near while she is working with it either.¡±


    She glared at me, ¡°I assume that you had an¡­ interaction when she brought you here.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s any of your business.¡± I muttered.


    ¡°It is overwhelmingly apparent that it is my business,¡± She said tartly, ¡°As a knight-sister, Tylee would have been perfectly fine, moping around like a lovesick puppy. In the circles she walks right now, such things can be deadly.¡±


    I returned her glare, ¡°Tylee doesn¡¯t know that you are trying to make me an associate, does she?¡±


    Megaine paused, taken aback, then chuckled, ¡°Paperwork has never been Tylee¡¯s strong suit. I wrote up the paper with enough legalese to give a black mage a headache.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because she would never agree to it.¡± Megaine said, ¡°Tylee dislikes the fact that she was born to a position of hereditary power. She however, has few options but to face her duty. You on the other hand still have a chance to escape that web. She is living vicariously through you. I am simply helping both of you realize that you would be better trapped together than separate and alone.


    ¡°You¡¯re manipulative.¡± I accused.


    ¡°And you and Tylee are innocent to the point of naivete,¡± Megaine retorted, ¡°There is a reason why my sister chose the Sisterhood rather than take part in the competition for the seat of daughter-heir. She lacks the stomach to bend to political necessity when it is required.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t consider that a weakness.¡± I said.


    ¡°And that is part of the reason why Tylee is infatuated with you, you feed her delusions.¡± Megaine said, ¡°When I first awoke, I was severely tempted to have you sent away from the city with a large stack of gold for your service. I honestly didn¡¯t expect Tylee to let herself get close to you, then push you away completely. Now the problem is just compounded.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you have me sent away now then?¡± I challenged.


    ¡°Because father is lying to himself by thinking that we can retain our position, let alone survive, through a marriage alliance,¡± Megaine said simply, ¡°We will need a new approach if we are to hold on to what we have. One of those approaches is bringing an outlander into our councils, someone like you.¡±


    I froze.


    ¡°Ah, there¡¯s the proof.¡± Megaine smiled smugly, ¡°You really need to work on your conversational skills.¡±


    ¡°How did you guess?¡± I asked, dazed from her words.


    ¡°You know so little,¡± Megaine said, ticking off fingers as she spoke, ¡°You have strange mannerisms and terms of speech. You think about things in ways that a mage never would. I have a weakness for stories of the great souls of Aramor. More than a few of them were outlanders. I honestly thought it was a stretch, but I figured that I would at least try. Being severely antisocial has probably helped you in terms of that secret not getting out.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that is a compliment or an insult.¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Both.¡± She said without rancor, ¡°So, how do you like Esturia?¡±


    I looked around, noting the people around us, ¡°Should we really be talking about this here?¡±


    Megaine raised an eyebrow, ¡°You honestly don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t had a sound barrier up this whole time, do you?¡±


    ¡°A what?¡± I asked.


    Megaine sighed, ¡°You really have to stop doing that. There is a difference between being ignorant and wearing your ignorance on your sleeve.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more comfortable with you than other people,¡± I pointed out, ¡°Probably to my detriment.¡±


    Megaine smiled, ¡°Easy to confide in a dead woman?¡±


    I grimaced, ¡°I told you before, I¡¯m not going to let that happen.¡±


    ¡°And where is your power to do that?¡± Before I could answer, she fluttered her hand at me, ¡°Irrelevant for now.¡±


    We arrived at the tailor shop in that moment, and Megaine gave the man instructions before leaving me in his care. The lanky man measured me quickly, then looked long and hard at my face and eyes.


    ¡°Not terribly exciting, but I can work with it,¡± He said, tilting my head a few different ways.


    ¡°I have a feeling that I am going to regret this.¡± I noted.


    ¡°Nobody regrets putting on a Vasille garment,¡± The man replied, ¡°I can turn rank mediocrity into something stunning.¡±


    I let him believe that. Who knows, maybe he would turn out to be right. I could hope if I wanted to.


    I was shooed out to where Megaine was waiting. The woman was casually browsing through some clothing when I stepped up to her. She handled a silk dress for several more moments, a look of melancholy in her eyes, then she turned to me.


    ¡°Done?¡± She asked.


    ¡°If by done,¡± I grumped, ¡°You mean I was measured and told to get out, then yes.¡±


    ¡°Vasille has a rather abrasive personality,¡± Megaine admitted, ¡°It¡¯s the one thing that keeps him from being truly popular. He claims that it is some kind of artistic requirement. I personally believe he enjoys biting his teeth at the rich who want his clothes. He does have a talent though, so I continue to use him.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Biting his teeth?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Showing contempt.¡± She explained.


    ¡°I can see why you would like him,¡± I said, ¡°You share similar qualities.¡±


    She grinned, ¡°Master Dyre, I do believe you are wholly unqualified to determine whether or not I can be charming. Just wait until the ball before you make a judgement like that, you may see a transformation unlike any other.¡±


    ¡°A regular Cinderella?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Outlander jokes are wasted on me Ethan,¡± She said, ¡°Do try to keep up.¡±


    I hurried after her, ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°To fulfill one of my promises to you.¡± She replied simply, ¡°You will see when we get there.¡±


    As we moved, I decided to ask her something that had been bothering me, ¡°What exactly is an associate?¡±


    ¡°At its core, an association with a noble house is a promise of mutual support,¡± Megaine said, ¡°You will swear to uphold and strengthen us, and we will swear to protect and support you. The church of Tyr witnesses all associations and can provide you with redress if you feel your patron is not fulfilling their part of the bargain. By the same token, an associate can be released by their house if they are found in violation of their oath.¡±


    ¡°That simple?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Megaine said, then grimaced, ¡°And no. As with all things, associations have grown more complex. The norm right now is for a specific time limit to be set on them, at which point the contract can be renegotiated. The lawmasters of the Seekers of Truth have also been steadily adding to the laws surrounding associations.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like bureaucracy.¡± I said.


    She eyed me, ¡°What is¡­ bureaucracy?¡±


    I tried, I really did, to explain to Megaine the slowly grinding, yet unstoppable beast which drove the policies of my world.


    She nodded, ¡°That is one of the functions of the Seekers. We ourselves employ a member of the Seekers to administer to our lands while we are gone. They are highly conversant with the laws and usually very good with mathematics.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t someone from the Collegio Academico work just as well?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The church of Tyr is the primary sponsor the Collegio,¡± Megaine pointed out, ¡°You don¡¯t think they hold classes in the temple, do you?¡±


    ¡°The Sisterhood of Light does.¡± I muttered.


    Megaine shrugged, ¡°The Sisterhood has a different role. They are warriors and healers. Come, it is growing late, we should hurry.¡±


    Surprisingly enough, Megaine walked me down to the lower city. My fingers itched for my lost staff as I kept my head on a swivel, but Megaine moved like she owned the place. As far as I knew, she might.


    We arrived at a small house. Though it resembled many of the other single-story dwellings around here, not many to be truthful, there was something about it that whispered of an order that was usually absent in this part of the city. It might have been the well-tended herb garden, with most of its produce already plucked from the ground, or the way which the shutters hung straight over the windows, rather than being slightly off-center.


    Megaine knocked on the door. The woman who answered was probably in her late twenties or early thirties, judging be appearance alone. Long, black hair cascaded past her shoulders, and a mild, heart-shaped face was highlighted by crystal clear eyes of a light blue.


    ¡°Lady Megaine,¡± The woman said, her voice soft.


    Megaine nodded, ¡°This is the mage I was telling you about.¡±


    The woman looked me up and down with a little trepidation, then gestured for us to come inside. I was thoroughly confused, and more than a little leery of entering into a building which I was unfamiliar with. Megaine must have noticed my hesitance, because she hesitated herself, then turned to face me.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± She said softly, ¡°I am your patron, and owe you a personal debt. I would not bring you here if I thought that you would be in danger. If it must be, I will protect you to my own death. This woman can help you, but only if you let her.¡±


    I looked into her eyes. They say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and you can tell what a person really means by looking into them. Megaine was an accomplished manipulator and could probably fake such sincerity. Megaine had also proven, despite her manipulations, that she was on my side. More importantly, if I couldn¡¯t trust Megaine, I would be better off leaving the city and never coming back.


    I pushed myself through the door.


    Our hostess set us down on a pair of chairs and served us a sweet herbal tea. I detected hints of urivan, a mild relaxant that led me to believe she was an accomplished herbalist at the very least.


    ¡°Ethan Dyre?¡± The woman asked, her voice still mild.


    I nodded, ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°My name is Diella, most of my friends just call me Ella.¡± She said.


    ¡°Are we friends?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Considering that I am going to teach you how to control your white magic,¡± She said without hesitation, ¡°I would hope that we will become such.¡±


    I blinked in shock, then looked at Megaine, who simply nodded in confirmation.


    ¡°How-¡°


    Diella held up a hand, ¡°Suffice to say that I am a white mage who is unaffiliated with the church. My mother was a white mage, and my father was a carpenter. He saw what using white magic did to mother, and my mother could not bear the thought of me dying as young as she was fated to. My mother lied to the priestesses about my magic, and I was spared that life.¡±


    I looked at her more closely. I had pegged her age incorrectly. For a white mage, there are two reasons why it is hard to guess their exact age. First, because the power of white magic does wonders for the skin. Second, because white mages rarely live long enough to show the signs of advanced aging.


    ¡°How old are you exactly?¡± I blurted out.


    She smiled behind her teacup, took a sip, then responded, ¡°Fifty-six.¡±


    I stared. As far as I knew, I was looking at the oldest white mage in existence.


    ¡°How?!¡± I asked, desperation tinging my voice, ¡°You don¡¯t even have a halo!¡±


    ¡°First of all,¡± She said, ¡°My talent is lower middling. Second, I never have, or ever will, use external essence to support my spellcasting. Halos rarely develop in any but great souls without essence supplementation. I am an apothecary by profession, not a white mage. I can exercise my power with more subtlety than most white mages, and it allows me to help people without sacrificing my own life. The Sisterhood of Light does a great deal of good for many people. Unless you are a white mage. Then it consumes you.¡±


    I detected a hint of bitterness in her voice. I couldn¡¯t say that I blamed her.


    ¡°Are you addicted?¡± I asked.


    She nodded, ¡°Of course. It is impossible to use white magic without becoming dependent on it. But by never allowing myself to handle more than my soul was originally capable of, I am able to keep it in check. The primary reason why temple healers fail so quickly is because the demand for their talents has far outstripped their ability to handle it without essence supplementation.¡±


    I glanced over at Megaine, who had supplied me with a phylactery earlier.


    She shrugged, ¡°I was not conversant with this particular detail. I also needed to know if you had become addicted.¡±


    ¡°Why does the church continue these practices if they are so destructive to white mages?¡± I asked incredulously.


    ¡°When a man lies before you with his intestines spilling onto the floor, do you withhold your magic because it might make you crave that power?¡± She asked me, her voice going from soft to harsh, ¡°When a child is bucking in your arms because he is literally burning up from the inside, do you stay your hand because you would rather not become dependent?¡±


    ¡°I hate what the church does to white mages, but I genuinely believe that the white mages themselves would revolt if they were told to restrict their healing arts. Not just because of their addiction, but because of the absolutely catastrophic death toll that would arise within a few weeks.¡± She said, ¡°The situation is out of control, and the only solution for now is to throw mages at it until they burn out.¡±


    The problem opened out before me. Aramor was dependent on white magic for something that had been achieved in my world with medicine. Simple diseases had ravaged my world for millennia before we figured out that washing out hands would reduce the chances of death. Even then, there had been tremendous pushback from the medical community when the idea of surgical sterility had been introduced.


    Aramor had been supported by the power of white magic, the death toll of such things as dysentery, simple fevers, and childbirth was low. The church charged very little for such emergency procedures, if there was a white mage on hand to do them. In places like Vern and other border cities, the realities of medieval life were more pronounced due to the scarcity of white mages there. Here in Aramor city, it would have been shocking if somebody died of something like pneumonia.


    At some point, the balance of white mages and the population had shifted. The church had responded with essence supplementation. In turn, white mages started becoming addicted, so they were lost. Diella was right. What did you do? Let those people die?


    No. You pushed your resources farther, depleting your supply, even as your demand grew.


    ¡°How¡­ how long?¡± I asked.


    Diella shrugged, ¡°In the last century the church has been cracking down on extraneous use of white magic. Raising prices for non-emergency healing has helped, but they have not gotten to the point of outright forbidding it. There could be greed in play at that. There are plenty of non-white mages who hold positions of power in the church. Even if they see the problem, they may not fully comprehend it, or even care.¡±


    ¡°At the rate things are going,¡± She said, ¡°We could see a failure of the system within a decade or two. It will start subtly, but once it picks up momentum, there will be no stopping it.¡±


    The black death in my world had wiped out 30-50% of people in Europe when it struck. I had a feeling that this would be a disaster of similar, or even larger, proportions.


    I turned to Megaine, ¡°We need to do something, right now.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow, ¡°Planning on saving the world?¡±


    ¡°I can do something about this,¡± I said, ¡°I know how to fix this!¡±


    ¡°And who will believe you?¡± Megaine asked, ¡°How will you convince others to do as you say? How will you convince them to give up their magical cures for your remedies?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± I yelled, ¡°But I have to do something!¡±


    ¡°One year.¡± Megaine said.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°One year,¡± She repeated, ¡°Give me everything you have for now. Help me save my house, and I swear upon my life and power that I will support you in this endeavor. It is too large to tackle by yourself, and house Arefina cannot do it right now. One year.¡±


    I hesitated, then looked at Diella, who was looking at me curiously, ¡°Ten years?¡±


    She shrugged, ¡°Or twenty, I am not conversant with all of the facts. In the end, it is just conjecture, I could be completely wrong.¡±


    I turned back to Megaine, ¡°I¡¯m going to start now in any case, but I won¡¯t neglect my duties to you.¡±


    Megaine hesitated, then nodded, ¡°I expect you to come when I have need of you.¡±


    ¡°How will you fulfill your oath if you die?¡± I asked.


    Megaine smiled, ¡°I guess that gives you another incentive to bring me a miracle.¡±


    For someone who had given up on life, Megaine was certainly more than willing to leverage her survival against me.


    I turned to Diella, ¡°You say you are an apothecary, I have some recipes for you.¡±


    Diella looked intrigued, ¡°What is it going to cost me?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I replied, ¡°In fact, I want you to disseminate what I give you, along with several other things that I am going to tell you, as far as you can. We can stop this, but it will take more than recipes, it will take a massive shift in how people think.¡±


    ¡°I dare not hope yet,¡± Diella said, ¡°But I will test what you give me, and do as you ask.¡±


    I nodded, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She smiled, ¡°No, I believe I should be thanking you. Perhaps I am not the only one who should be doing so either.¡±


    I waved me hand at her, ¡°No time. Paper, I need some.¡±


    ¡°Am I free to go?¡± Megaine asked, ¡°It looks like you two will be busy.¡±


    I pulled my grimoire from my bag, ¡°Not likely my lady, I believe that a small down payment on your debt to me is in order.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need you to distribute copies of this to everyone with whom you have influence.¡± I continued, ignoring the light note in her voice.


    ¡°I am not a distributor of pamphlets.¡± Megaine said.


    ¡°How about the woman who saved Aramor?¡± I asked, beginning to write.


    ¡°It has some merit,¡± Megaine said, ¡°Although I cannot guarantee this will have power outside of the dutchy of Arefina.¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°In time, the results will speak for themselves. In a year, we¡¯ll really start to push this. For now, just have your own people do these things.¡±


    Megaine watched with interest as I began writing out the first sentences of the medical revolution which was about to overtake Aramor. Hopefully.


    ¡°Is this why you are obsessed with baths?¡± Megaine asked, looking over the short paper on hygiene I had produced.


    I nodded, ¡°It¡¯s the most important thing that the average person can do to stay healthy.¡±


    ¡°It seems like a waste of time and money.¡± She noted.


    ¡°It¡¯s not, I promise.¡± I said, ¡°It will take some time, but if people adhere to those standards, you should see sickness as a whole drop significantly. Furthermore, it will reduce the load on the white mages in your dutchy.¡±


    She picked my sheet on wound care, ¡°Are you trying to inebriate people by pouring alcohol on wounds?¡±


    ¡°Distilled,¡± I pointed out, ¡°I could wish for ethene so that I could mass produce the stuff, but then beggars would ride if wishes were horses. Infections are caused by tiny animals, too small for the eye to see. If you kill them, it should significantly lower the chances of infection.¡±


    Megaine made further comments, and I supplied her with my reasoning.


    ¡°It seems the alchemists and apothecaries will be happy with you.¡± She murmured, looking through some of the treatments I had come up with, ¡°They usually rely on adventurers as their primary source of income.¡±


    ¡°You have to keep costs down.¡± I said, ¡°If it becomes just as expensive to take someone to a white mage, the whole point of this will be moot.¡±


    Megaine shrugged, ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem. Even with the essence cost of making some of these, it should still be cheaper overall.¡±


    We finished as the sky turned to twilight. Megaine left, promising to have copies of the various documents made. What we had done today was just one step. I could provide a basic background for modern medicine, but the things I knew were nowhere near what would need to be done. I set the task on an increasingly larger pile of things that I planned to do in the future.


    Diella made us a dinner out of cheese and bread, then settled down on the floor, bidding me to join her.


    ¡°I must admit, this is not what I expected when Megaine brought you to me.¡± She said quietly.


    ¡°I was not sure what to expect either,¡± I admitted, ¡°But this was also not what I had planned for the day.¡±


    ¡°If I may,¡± She said, ¡°You seem to have a great deal of medical knowledge. Why have you not undertaken this before?¡±


    ¡°I did, in a way.¡± I said, ¡°There is a town down south by the name of Vern. The alchemist there produces several of the cures that I just gave to you, the midwives know some advanced techniques, and the physician practices sterile surgery. There is even a copy of my antibacterial ointment in the official grimoire of the Alchemists¡¯ Guild. The problem is, I¡¯m somewhat famous in Vern. It was easy to convince people to do what I asked. Here¡­ I¡¯m just another alchemist, and a young one at that. I was honestly hoping that those techniques and recipes would spread naturally. After what you told me though¡­ I think it needs to happen faster.¡±


    She nodded, ¡°Very well, then let us begin. I will start by helping you refine your control over white magic. The less that you have to use when treating a person, the less that will touch you when you use it. Later, I will teach you how to feed your addiction with as little magic as possible.¡±


    ¡°Ignite a small amount of essence.¡± She instructed, then chanted the attunement spell.


    I brought white magic to life inside of me. It was as little as I could manage, and it felt wonderful.


    ¡°Look into that light,¡± She instructed, ¡°Feel it washing over you.¡±


    I hesitated, ¡°Won¡¯t that¡­ make it worse?¡±


    ¡°To control white magic, you must first understand it. Not on an intellectual level, but on an instinctive level. You must do more than revel in it, you must comprehend it. Now, look deeply.¡± She explained.


    I turned my thoughts inwards and embraced that spark inside of me. The feeling of euphoria grew, then separated into layers. I could feel the warmth of the sun, the touch of a lover, and the thrill of life coursing through me. I reached for more.


    ¡°No!¡± Diella snapped, slapping me.


    I fell back in surprise, my hold on the white magic stuttering, then fizzling out as the shock of that sudden attack from my little instructor threw me off balance.


    ¡°Sit up!¡± She commanded, ¡°You are not to reach for more. Explore what you have ignited, no more.¡±


    ¡°How is this helping!¡± I growled.


    ¡°For someone who has just counselled patience in bringing about change, you are remarkably impatient yourself.¡± She noted, ¡°Begin the exercise.¡±


    Somewhat stung by that, I did as she said. For an hour, we sat there while I burned a trickle of white magic as I struggled to comprehend the depths of the power which lay within me. Diella had a needle that she would stab me with every time I started to reach for more. I would have complained about acute perforations, but it was a simple matter to heal the wounds that she caused. They still hurt though.


    And thus, I began my not-so-legitimate training as a white mage.

 The Voices in My Head

    I ended up spending the night at Diella¡¯s house on a small pallet in her dining room. I was expressly forbidden from entering her room, and lacked any special curiosity about the place in any case. I imagined that she might have had trouble with clients who found her presence a little too¡­ stimulating. I still marveled that the woman was able to use her white magic without people noticing. She had eventually revealed to me that when she had to use more than just a trickle of the stuff, she would dose the patient with an emetic beforehand.


    It¡¯s hard to tell that you¡¯re being touched by magic when you¡¯re busy throwing up. I guess gating mechanisms work in this world too. The endorphin rush afterwards probably helped too. Her real secret though, was that if someone came to her with such a condition, she would more often than not just refer them to the local chapel. It¡¯s easy to lay low if you let the church do the real healing.


    When I awoke and let myself out of my own little box, Solus was waiting for me.


    Give in


    Let go


    Why fight?


    ¡°Could you get out of my head?¡± I muttered, rising and stretching.


    No


    I froze. That was new.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I asked.


    Silence stretched, and I itched the back of my head for a moment before deciding that it might have been my imagination.


    No!


    I staggered, catching myself on the wall as the voice bounced around the inside of my skull like a bouncy ball. That did it. Once is an error, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Here¡¯s the kicker, there are no coincidences. The voices in my head were changing, and I had to do something about it. Now.


    I dropped into a lotus position on the floor and tapped into the flow of essence in my body. I was, quite frankly, sick and tired of having Solus as my constant companion. The man wasn¡¯t a good conversationalist, and he wouldn¡¯t shut up.


    ¡°Come here you.¡± I growled, grabbing a hold of the essence in my mind and sending it into a dizzying swirl.


    My own body reacted by feeding me a sense of vertigo. I swayed, but managed to keep up the movement. The barely understandable voices became a jumble as the black magic in my head was stirred by my own power.


    Good, I was hoping that something like that would happen. Essence and magic are not the same, but they are related. Magic is derivative of essence, so the movement of such should be able to affect an active spell. Or the remnants of one at least.


    You see, I had built a box for myself inside of my head as a defense mechanism. At the time, it had been a hidey hole for my damaged psyche. My mind was still scarred, but I was over having the repetitive voice of an egotist handing me helpful tips every moment of the day.


    The funny thing about boxes is, they have a lot of uses. Kids turn them into forts, cats sit in them, and you can even turn one into a handy knee rest if you¡¯re working in a garden for long periods of time. The cardboard box is truly versatile.


    The box in my head was safety, but it could also be a prison.


    Closing my eyes, I grabbed onto a nearby chair for support and sent the essence in my head swirling again. If I stretched my senses far enough, I could just feel a faint difference in the power coursing through my brain. I had to assume that that was the black magic that Solus had left inside of me.


    Continuing the swirling pattern, I pulled several bricks from my mental prison, then began lowering the miniature hurricane of essence towards it. The black magic wasn¡¯t sentient, but it seemed to shy away from the prison. I didn¡¯t let it.


    A final whirl, and the bricks fell back into place. I waited for a moment, hoping against hope.


    Silence.


    I grinned and opened my eyes.


    That¡¯s when I threw up.


    That was how Diella found me that morning. Facedown in a pool of my own vomit, a stupid grin on my face. I just couldn¡¯t find it in myself to care when she accused me of using my magic recreationally.


    Screw you and your mind magic Solus!


    I let Diella believe that I had been using white magic for pleasure. I wasn¡¯t really up to explaining to her about the voices in my head. Surprisingly, she was quite forgiving of the slip-up.


    ¡°It happens.¡± She said, handing me a washcloth.


    I wiped my face, then got to work on her floor. I thanked the powers that be that wooden floors were the norm in Aramor. I didn¡¯t want to imagine the effort it would have taken to clean a carpet of my stomach¡¯s contents. I had done enough of that in my previous life.


    ¡°How many white mages have you trained exactly?¡± I asked idly as I continued to clean.


    ¡°You should know better than to ask that.¡± She remarked, cracking some eggs into a pan over her newly stoked stove.


    ¡°So it has been more than one?¡± I asked.


    She didn¡¯t respond. I took that for a yes.


    ¡°Diella-¡° I began


    ¡°It¡¯s Ella.¡± She cut me off.


    ¡°Okay, Ella,¡± I corrected myself, ¡°I was wondering, have you ever had another white mage use magic on you while you were channeling your own?¡±


    A pregnant pause followed that question.


    ¡°That is¡­¡± She hesitated, then continued, ¡°A rather personal question.¡±


    I thought about that, remembering the way that the babbler¡¯s magic had mixed with mine. That had been¡­ something else. Maybe not entirely appropriate of a question.


    ¡°It happened to me,¡± I quickly interjected, ¡°I was just wondering if you could tell me what effect that would have had on me.¡±


    Another pause.


    ¡°How many times?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Just once.¡±


    ¡°Do you still remember it?¡±


    ¡°Like it was this morning.¡± I admitted.


    A soft exhalation, ¡°I assume that that was the triggering event for the development of your dependence?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± I said, ¡°Although, shortly thereafter, I was forced to use white magic to sustain my body for a long period of time.¡±


    I looked over at her. She had turned away from the stove and was nodding thoughtfully at me.


    ¡°Either of those alone could have awakened an addiction,¡± She said, ¡°How long ago.¡±


    ¡°Sometime last week.¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing that Megaine brought you here when she did, though I do worry about the implications of her finding me,¡± She said, ¡°Curbing an addiction is easier at the start. If this had happened six months ago¡­ I would refer you to the Sanitarium, regardless of your wishes.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I said, falling silent.


    ¡°In regards to the mixing of white magic,¡± She said, ¡°I would be careful about asking white mages about that. It is expressly forbidden, but many couples within the Order use it to enhance their¡­ intimate experiences.¡±


    I coughed, ¡°I see.¡±


    Diella served up eggs and some of the ubiquitous yam rice that was a staple of the capital. It was strange, because in Vern, I hadn¡¯t seen the stuff before. The most common carbohydrate there was a purple tuber which could be found in the wilds or imported. The things tasted like potatoes.


    I missed the food in Vern. Although it was probably a sign of oncoming mental illness that I found myself remembering Laurel¡¯s cooking with even a hint of fondness.


    I bid Diella farewell, promising to be back the next day to continue our lessons. I was honestly unsure if what she was doing was helping. I had managed to keep my use of white magic to a minimum since emerging from the dungeon beneath the city. I had thought I was doing well. After last night, I could feel the craving as strong as it had ever been.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I almost skipped down the street as I worked my way to the collegia Alchemica. I had been avoiding my studies since returning home because every time I picked up a book, the voices in my head started jabbering. With those gone, I was legitimately excited to get back to class. Alchemico Byar was less than amused to see me.


    ¡°Master Dyre.¡± He said dispassionately, looking up from his desk, ¡°While attendance is not mandatory, I find it very hard to believe that you are serious about your studies when you skip an entire week of class. I expect it of the apprentice track students, but not my theory students.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir,¡± I said quickly, ¡°I was detained for a long period of time, then found that my mind was not in the right place to return to my studies.¡±


    He sighed and rubbed his temples, ¡°I see. Have you finished that list I gave you?¡±


    I withdrew a stack of notes from my bag, ¡°Yes sir, week before last, the reading was interesting.¡±


    He held out his hand and looked over my notes, nodding before handing them back, ¡°Thoughts?¡±


    I replaced the notes and settled into an at-ease position, my hands clasped behind my back, ¡°Sir, I am extremely interested in Alchemica Forsyth¡¯s theory on substitution of alchemical reagents.¡±


    ¡°Go on.¡± He said.


    My main reason for being interested in this topic was that I knew about the periodic table of elements. I knew that everything in the world could be broken down into molecules, then into atoms. Magic in Esturia operated on rules, and I felt sure that there was some equivalent to the atom which could be used to decipher the reason why two different recipes could produce the same result.


    ¡°I believe that there is a finer component to our alchemical materials than we know about.¡± I said, ¡°If we could somehow identify that base component, we could easily make more and more substitutions.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any evidence to support your idea?¡± He asked, his eyes betraying a gleam.


    I withdrew one of my bile-toad extracts and handed it to him, ¡°That is the poison of a bile toad, purified to remove the killing effect, with the magical suppression properties intact. I mix it with a rathound curative and distill the whole thing down.¡±


    He examined the vial, then handed it back, ¡°What does this say about reagent substituting?¡±


    ¡°Everything!¡± I blurted out, then calmed myself at his raised eyebrow, ¡°Potions, elixirs, and curatives are all made from the creatures and plants of the Broken Lands. If all monsters have a common killing poison, which can be cured by curatives specific to other monsters, then there should be other commonalities.¡±


    ¡°Have you looked at any recipes?¡± He asked.


    I nodded, pulling out a page from my notes, ¡°I¡¯ve done a comparative analysis on the two types of ingredients used in a level one agility elixir. They are both six-month formulae, but one uses the heart of a whipple, and the other the feathers of a spearin.¡±


    He took the paper and looked it over. He was silent for a minute, then stood up.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go down to the lab.¡± He said, throwing on a coat.


    ¡°Right now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Of course,¡± He said, heading for the door, ¡°Hurry along Master Dyre, we have some alchemy to do!¡±


    I hurried after him.


    Alchemico Byar and I laid out all of the ingredients before us and looked over the list.


    ¡°The bases are the same,¡± I said, ¡°So purified water is an easy enough start.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but this one uses hensbane,¡± Byar noted, ¡°While this one uses lossen.¡±


    ¡°Lossen is used by herbalists in a tea that is supposed to help concentration.¡± I pointed out, ¡°It might be the better choice. I¡¯ve never seen another use for hensbane.¡±


    Byar nodded thoughtfully, taking the lossen and adding it to the flask we were using.


    We went down the list, choosing ingredients, omitting some and including others. When we were done, Alchemico Byar let me cook it, then finish infusing it.


    We both watched carefully as the glow of essence swam through the elixir. I held my breath as I pulled it away from the fire.


    The essence immediately dropped to the bottom of the flask.


    I sighed.


    Alchemico Byar clapped me on the shoulder, ¡°Not to worry Master Dyre. Your idea has merit, and I think you might be on to something. I¡¯ll have Gerald bring you more reagents. I have other obligations, but I am very interested in whatever results you come up with.¡±


    I nodded, ¡°Thank you sir. This isn¡¯t the first time I have had to work on a new recipe, so I¡¯m not sure why I thought it would end differently.¡±


    Alchemico Byar left me, and I settled down to read over the three recipes. Comparing them, I wondered what could have gone wrong.


    ¡®Ah, variables.¡¯ I thought.


    I have been on Esturia for too long. I had forgotten one of the cardinal rules of experimentation. Only change one variable at a time.


    ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s try substitutions, from the top down, one at a time.¡± I said, then set to work, ¡°Then we¡¯ll get crazy.¡±


    Needless to say, I did not have any success on the first day.


    XXXXXX


    After several hours in the alchemy lab, I found my way outside into the afternoon sun. Autumn had begun turning the leaves of what I assumed were oak trees to a stunning array of colors, and the gentle breeze which flowed across the campus of the three colleges sent a shiver through my body. I took a long moment to breathe in the crisp air.


    As I made my way down the cobblestone path that wended its way through the verdant square which held the dozen or so buildings that made up the college, I saw other students. Some were dressed in robes and bore the badge of the Collegio Magico, less numerous were those in plain robes, who would be students of the Collegia Alchemica. The last set of students I saw were adorned with a badge which depicted the symbol of Tyr. I assumed that these were students of the Collegio Academico.


    As I walked, I took time to envy these students. In another world, I had been just like them. Some gathered in groups and joked together, others were busily looking over notes they had taken either in class or at the library. Some were hurrying to class, others were engaged in recreational activities. I suppose the group of hydromancers passing a stream of water back and forth between them would have been the equivalent of some students juggling a soccer ball.


    Otherwise, it was an ocean of calm amid a life which had become far more complex than I had ever wanted. I took the time to envy them, then moved on. Although they looked carefree, many of these students were scions of their own houses, however great or low. Some might be common, but they would be the children of either the rich, or prodigies who had received scholarships because a specific college wanted them.


    Their lives were probably as complex as my own. Seeing them, I was reminded that I needed to take some time for myself as well. It was true that I was on a deadline. Megaine had somewhere in the ballpark of two months to live, and I had a job to do. The problem was, if I let that consume every hour of my day, my productivity would drop precipitously.


    I made my way over to the library. I could not see Master Norry, but I was certain that the ancient shinobi was somewhere among the towering piles of books, just waiting to leap out and assassinate me with a letter opener. I should have never given him that arthritis treatment.


    The junior clerk took a look at my master alchemist pin and waved me inside. I moved to the section of the library that was usually frequented by the students of the Collegio Academico and began browsing the sections that dealt with the gods of Esturia. There was a copy of the Book of Tyr, and Musings on Life, both being the main canonical works of their religions. I looked a little deeper until I found a book that might contain what I was looking for: Irregular Religions, The Gods of Days Past.


    The dusty tome was faded, and some of the pages cracked as I leafed through their contents. I decided that after I finished with helping bring about a medical revolution on Esturia, I would introduce the authors of the various texts to the idea of an index.


    The book was old, and probably a copy of a copy of a copy, based on the fact that it contained information that had probably only been available before the breaking. I had been hoping for something a little more substantial, but ended up with a set of stories that read like Grimm¡¯s Fairy Tales half of the time. Despite that, I was able to uncover several interesting tidbits.


    First, Tyr and Orianna were mentioned in passing several times throughout the book. This was not surprising to me. The thing that was, was the fact that there was a third name that popped up on occasion: Lissandra. I could only assume that Lissandra¡¯s worship was not considered an ¡®irregular religion,¡¯ because the book did not expound upon it.


    The thing that I found was that the passages which brought of Lissandra¡¯s name were all references to various cults that worshipped magic. Other than the name and that little tidbit, I found very little of use in the book.


    Although I was an accomplished skimmer, hours had passed since I had begun my search. Glancing out a nearby window, I saw that it was growing dark, it would probably be best if I got home. When I arrived, Derrick directed me to my workroom.


    ¡°That stick you ordered arrived,¡± He said, in the process of closing up shop, ¡°I put it with that blade you¡¯re working with.¡±


    I nodded my thanks and stepped into the small workshop. Sure enough, next to the steel blade on my workbench, was a crude shaft of ironwood. According to my specifications, it was straight, though still rough, having been worked minimally. I twirled it experimentally.


    It was imperfect, but that was what I had been hoping for. I grabbed a carving knife and several other woodworking tools, then began the long process of turning this simple piece of wood into a quarterstaff.


    ¡°Whatcha doin¡¯?¡± Came a voice that I recognized.


    I managed not to cut myself in surprise. A flash of anger shot through my blood, only to be cooled as I reigned myself in. I had gotten myself in enough trouble through impatience. It might help if I tried practicing in a place where the consequences wouldn¡¯t be so dire.


    Instead of lashing out at Miriam, I used my foot to hook a stool from under my bench and dragged it out. Gesturing at it, I went back to my work. It took about a dozen strokes of my blade for Miriam to give in and take the proffered seat. I continued working.


    ¡°So¡­?¡± She asked.


    I held the staff to check for balance, maybe a little more off this side¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m making a magic staff.¡± I replied as I shifted my attention.


    ¡°Why?¡± She asked, ¡°I know you¡¯re old, but you¡¯re not that old. Only wizards in stories use staves.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s my turn to ask a question.¡± I replied.


    Miriam went quiet for a second, then responded, ¡°Okay, one for one. What do you want to know?¡±


    ¡°Do you like working with your mother?¡± I asked, testing the balance again, then working to even out the surface.


    As I worked, I felt the whisper of power flowing from my hands into the ironwood. I focused on pushing as much magic into it as possible.


    ¡°Of course I do!¡± She said, ¡°Why would you ask that?¡±


    ¡°Is that your question?¡± I asked, glancing over at her.


    She bit her lip, then nodded.


    ¡°Because I think the reason why you are always in the workshop is because what you really want to do is work with your father.¡± I said, ¡°Am I wrong?¡±


    Miriam was silent. I focused on making the length of the wood uniform.


    ¡°Maybe?¡± She said, ¡°What is it to you anyways?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I joked, ¡°At least if you became your father¡¯s apprentice, you would probably have less energy with which to bother me.¡±


    ¡°You!¡± She huffed.


    ¡°So,¡± I said, ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell them?¡±


    Silence descended as I continued working.


    ¡°Because aerotheurges don¡¯t become blacksmiths.¡± She said, ¡°Only pyromancers and geomancers.¡±


    I laughed, ¡°The man who taught me the basics of blacksmithing wasn¡¯t even a wick.¡±


    ¡°That explains your terrible skills.¡± She muttered.


    ¡°Master Eyre produced weapons for adventurers who went to the Broken Lands. His products were not magical, but they were by no means inferior,¡± I said, ¡°Magic is a part of you Miriam, it doesn¡¯t define you. If someone with no magical talent can learn to forge, then an aerotheurge can do it too.¡±


    Miriam fell silent again and I took the opportunity to summon a piece of paper from my bag. I checked the drawing on it, looked over the staff, and nodded. I began to trace out the design on the staff. Carving the inscription into it would happen later.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Miriam asked, eyeing the paper.


    ¡°An inscription,¡± I said, ¡°If you wanted to become a smith, your talent with magic would allow you to create enchanted items. Your father spent most of his youth as an adventurer, so he doesn¡¯t really have the background for it. I dare say that if you could master both arts, you would become an even better smith than him.¡±


    I had finished with the primary inscription and was working on essence storage inscriptions when Miriam replied.


    ¡°Will you help me tell them?¡± She asked.


    I sighed, setting the staff against the wall, ¡°Will you let me work in peace if I do?¡±


    ¡°Probably not.¡± She said, an impish gleam in her eyes.


    I sighed again, ¡°Let¡¯s go talk to your parents.¡±

 A Question on Divinity

    The morning air was fresh and the shingled roofs of the upper town were slick with dew as I made my way to the main campus of the Collegio Academico. I noted a few students hurrying around, but for the most part, the place was empty. I had arisen before the eighth bell and arrived well before the ninth, leaving me enough time to follow up on some of my other ideas.


    Working with my staff last night had left me plenty of time to think, and it had occurred to me that the Collegio was probably the one place where I could find more information about the mysterious Lissandra. She was, after all, my prime suspect for the source of the parasite that was killing Megaine.


    Entering the building, I stopped a worker to ask directions to the theology department. The man was kind enough to supply me with the answer, though he did look askance at my pin. It was not unheard of for students from the Collegia Alchemica and Collegio Magico to spend time at each other¡¯s buildings for cross-referencing and questions. It was less common for either to make their way to the Collegio Academico, though not expressly forbidden.


    I arrived at a door with a plaque engraved with the name T. Widdleston and a small placard that read: Theology Department Head. I knocked.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Came a voice.


    I opened the door and stuck my head inside, ¡°Excuse me sir, but could you spare a moment of time for a curious alchemist?¡±


    The middle-aged man in the chair looked like he didn¡¯t miss many meals, and his black hair was liberally salted with white. His eyes were an unassuming brown, letting me know that he was either or wick or mundane. I was not going to assume that anybody but Diella outright refused to use essence supplementation.


    His office was clean, but hardly organized. While there was a bookshelf against the wall, there were more than five distinct stacks of books lined up behind the man. While they were well aligned, and appeared to be in no danger of falling, they spoke of a man who often failed to make his way back to the library to return books.


    This man was probably Master Norry¡¯s nemesis.


    ¡°Of course,¡± He said, gesturing me inside and setting aside a quill and inkpot, ¡°I don¡¯t see many alchemists in here, so this should be interesting.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡± I said, entering and sitting in a chair before his desk which he indicated.


    ¡°Now,¡± He said, ¡°What can an old mundane like me do for an accomplished alchemist, Master¡­?¡±


    ¡°Ethan Dyre,¡± I grinned, ¡°I¡¯ve learned not to underestimate mundanes sir. In any case, I was hoping you might have knowledge of a god other than Tyr and Orianna.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow, ¡°There are a few such floating around in my head. Does this mysterious god have a name, or am I to start listing out the ones I know?¡±


    I shook my head and pulled out the page of notes I had taken on Lissandra, ¡°Her name is Lissandra, this is what I was able to find in the library.¡±


    The man took the sheet and looked it over, nodding thoughtfully, ¡°I have read a couple of things about Lissandra, though only in texts that predate the Breaking.¡±


    He turned and rifled through the books behind him, finally coming up with the one he wanted. He opened it to an earmarked page, read for a moment, then nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯re acquainted with the Breaking?¡± He asked.


    I shrugged, ¡°Peripherally, nobody seems to know a lot about it. Just that it resulted in the Broken Lands being formed.¡±


    He nodded, ¡°Exactly. The actual cause of the Breaking is a subject of great debate. Some say that it was an extra-planar phenomenon. Something boring its way into our world and releasing the powerful magics which emanate from the Broken Lands. Others say it was a folly of men, and we created the evil which has been our neighbor ever since.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ what is it?¡± I asked as he fell silent.


    He shrugged, ¡°It¡¯s mostly an academic question, someone will try to mount an expedition every century or so, but they are inevitably repulsed as they delve deeper into the Broken Lands. The one thing that we are sure of is that, in addition to the deaths of people, and loss of vast stores of knowledge, the Breaking had an effect on the gods themselves. Orianna and Tyr were once far more involved deities than they are now. Since the Breaking, and don¡¯t say this in hearing of any clergy member, the gods themselves have been¡­ diminished.¡±


    I sat back.


    ¡°Diminished?¡± I asked.


    ¡°From what we have been able to piece together, white and black mages used to be no less uncommon than cardinal mages. Their rarity is just one of the indications. Tyr and Orianna still speak to their followers occasionally, but it is fortunate indeed if such a thing occurs more than twice in a decade.¡± He said.


    ¡°And Lissandra?¡± I asked, ¡°Is she¡­ dead?¡±


    I barely dared to breath as the man before me rubbed his chin.


    ¡°I would hesitate to say dead,¡± He said, ¡°We don¡¯t really understand all that much about how immortals work. I am not certain that the cardinal spirits or gods can be killed.¡±


    ¡°Could they be¡­ changed?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A difficult question,¡± he replied, ¡°Although based on her silence, it is not entirely beyond reason. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°I met a man who claimed to possess a part of the body of a dead god.¡± I said, ¡°I think it might be part of Lissandra.¡±


    The man leaned forward, ¡°What?! Did you see it?¡±


    I nodded, ¡°It was a parasite that fed on magic, killing the mage that it inhabited.¡±


    ¡°Do you have it?¡± He demanded.


    I shook my head, ¡°The sample I was working with was stolen from me. The owner¡­ I don¡¯t ever want to seem him again, but something tells me that I will anyway.¡±


    ¡°What can you tell me about it?¡± He asked.


    I spent some time telling him about the parasite, leaving Megaine and the Arefinas out of it. When I was done, the professor looked mildly perturbed.


    ¡°So you poisoned it, and it disappeared?¡± He asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s still there.¡± I said, ¡°Although it can¡¯t affect my patient as much as it did.¡±


    ¡°This actually has precedent,¡± He said, ¡°Gods and spirits can form temporary bodies for themselves that are just as susceptible to damage as any mortal. They are far more resilient than we are, but that just means that they can survive more. The cardinal spirits tend to stick to constructs of their elements, while the gods have been known to don masks of flesh.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ the parasite died and became a¡­ spirit?¡± I asked warily.


    ¡°That¡¯s the best theory I can offer you.¡± He said, ¡°If all of your suppositions are correct. If this parasite is in fact the body of a dead god. Destroying the body would not damage the spirit, it would simply render it less capable in the mortal realm.¡±


    I rubbed my temples, ¡°This is getting complicated. Do you know of any alchemy that can affect a spirit?¡±


    He laughed, ¡°I am afraid that you have reached the limit of my expertise Master Dyre. I suggest you take such things up with one of your instructors. There may also be someone among the Seekers of Truth or the Adventurers¡¯ Guild who could help you. Spiritual monsters are rare, but not unheard of. Something efficacious against undead might help.¡±


    I nodded thoughtfully, ¡°Thank you for your time sir.¡±


    He waved a hand, ¡°Always glad to feed hungry minds. Before you go, would you indulge me in a few questions?¡±


    I sat up straight, ¡°Of course sir.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an alchemist, but I don¡¯t see a halo of any kind in your eyes,¡± He said, ¡°You¡¯re not a wick are you?¡±


    I blinked for a moment, then chuckled, ¡°No sir, I¡¯m a gray mage and a great soul. My halo is full, but I just look like a regular person.¡±


    He examined my eyes, then smiled, ¡°Ah, I see. You should really go visit Professor Feldt, he¡¯s gray too.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I stared at him, ¡°Gray?¡±


    He shrugged, ¡°It¡¯s a rare affinity, but I¡¯ve met a few. There is a cabinetmaker in the lower city who claims to be a gray wick. His work is exceptional, but that might just be because he is a skilled artisan.¡±


    ¡°What does Professor Feldt teach?¡± I asked hurriedly, ¡°Where can I find him?¡±


    ¡°Slow down there Master Dyre,¡± He said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never met another gray mage.¡± I continued excitedly, ¡°There are so many things I want to ask him!¡±


    ¡°He is an associate professor of artificing,¡± He said, a dry note in his voice, ¡°Although to name him a professor is a bit of an overstatement. The man is brilliant, but terrible with people. The Collegio keeps him around because he occasionally produces something that is actually useful and brings in revenue.¡±


    I stood up, fully intending on running to the artificing department.


    ¡°Hold up,¡± The man said, making a placating gesture, ¡°I still have one more thing to tell you about Lissandra.¡±


    I sank back into my chair, though one of my legs bounced in impatience. The professor gave me a longsuffering look before I finally managed to calm myself.


    ¡°Although we are not certain,¡± He said, ¡°It is believed that Lissandra was the ancient goddess of magic. If she were dead, or grievously injured, it would stand to reason that her body would be searching out any essence it could find. She would be drawn to it, as it is her nature. I hope that helps, but that is about all I can give you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, professor,¡± I said, ¡°You have given me a lot to think about.¡±


    He smiled, ¡°May you always find the truth.¡±


    I left his office, then immediately began running. This would have been more effective if I had any idea where I was going. I almost bowled over a pair of students, who quickly gave me directions to the artificing lab, rather than just the department, when they found out who I was looking for. Based on the looks they shoot each other, the two young men probably thought I was a crazy person.


    I wasn¡¯t prepared to contradict them.


    Despite having run through the halls of the rather large building, I was hardly winded by the time I reached the artificing lab. I restrained myself from kicking open the door, resorting to a simple knock instead. I still bounced from foot to foot as I waited.


    And waited.


    And waited.


    I knocked again, louder.


    No response.


    I tried the handle, it was unlocked. On reflection, I realized that a lab would be quite large, and there may not have been anyone by the door to answer it. Shrugging, I opened the door and stepped in.


    If you have ever been to a small-town museum, you will understand the sight which met my eyes when I stepped into the lab. Around me was a hodgepodge of implements, some half-finished, others complete in all their glory, and even more disassembled into their component parts. There was not a smooth surface open for use. I would be more willing to call it a workshop, but I was willing to let the artificers name it whatever they wanted.


    ¡°Yes! Hello!¡± Came a voice from the other side of a pile of junk, ¡°What¡¯s all this racket about!?¡±


    ¡°Professor¡­ Feldt?¡± I asked hesitantly.


    A stumpy man with rounded features and white hair that had probably not seen a comb for at least a week came tromping around the pile of debris. Salt and pepper scruff marred his face, and not in the way that it does for sexy actors. He reminded me of a tall gnome.


    ¡°Who¡¯s asking?¡± He asked irritably, ¡°If it¡¯s the dean, you go right back and tell him that you can¡¯t rush art! Or science!¡±


    I held up a hand, ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s just me sir. Ethan Dyre, master alchemist and gray mage.¡±


    The professor¡¯s blue eyes were impinged almost to the pupils by a halo of gray. Those eyes narrowed as he approached me, then gestured at me.


    ¡°Sir?¡± I asked, not understanding.


    ¡°Squat down boy,¡± He growled, ¡°I can¡¯t see your halo from here.¡±


    Nervously, I lowered myself to his level and let him examine my eyes carefully. With a nod, he waved me off. I rose back to my full height again.


    ¡°Well,¡± He said, ¡°You¡¯re either a mundane and lying to me, or you are the real deal. In all honesty, I¡¯m not sure what use a gray mage would have with a great soul. We¡¯re not essence hogs like your standard cardinal mage is. Though I guess you could supercharge someone you trusted.¡±


    I nodded emphatically, ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    He tapped his chin, ¡°So, what is it you want?¡±


    ¡°I was¡­¡± I hesitated, ¡°I was hoping that you could teach me more about being a gray mage.¡±


    He looked at me seriously for a moment, then burst out laughing. I stared at him in perplexed wonder.


    ¡°Learn to be a gray mage!¡± He cackled, ¡°Boy, what on Esturia makes you think that I know anything more about being a gray mage than you?¡±


    I blinked, ¡°Well, you¡¯ve been living with it for longer than me¡­¡±


    He shrugged, swiping hammer from a nearby bench, ¡°I assume you know about your ability to produce items of higher quality than anyone else?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Essence projection?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I can feed another mage through their inflow track, or¡­ another way.¡± I said.


    He nodded, ¡°Soul link. It¡¯s one of the few things that we gray mages can accomplish with little more than a thought. What are you doing for control training?¡±


    ¡°I mostly just work on my blacksmithing or alchemy.¡± I said, ¡°That seems to help.¡±


    He nodded, ¡°That will be so. Unlike other mages, our power is one which requires action to hone properly. Just keep at what you are doing. Push your power in novel ways, try to look deeper into the things that you are working on.¡±


    ¡°Is that it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It?¡± He asked incredulously, ¡°That¡¯s just the surface. There are many things to learn about being a gray mage.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean you will teach me?¡± I asked hopefully.


    The little man rubbed his chin, then spoke, ¡°No.¡±


    He turned and walked away with his hammer. I stared after him as he vanished, only to have my ears assaulted by clanging noises, accompanied by insults of various color being thrown at some device which I assumed the man was working on. My legs found their strength, and I pursued the man.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I asked, ¡°I need a mentor in magic. I haven¡¯t been able to find anyone else.¡±


    ¡°You still here?¡± He asked loudly, still hammering at a metal plate which was protruding from an arcane device, ¡°I thought I told you to leave.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I responded, ¡°You told me you wouldn¡¯t teach me.¡±


    More clanging.


    ¡°People usually take that as a hint.¡± The professor said.


    ¡°I have been told that I am not very good at picking up on cues.¡± I shot back.


    Clang!


    ¡°That¡¯s obvious enough,¡± He growled, now trying to bend the metal sheet to fit underneath the lip of an interlocking plate, ¡°I¡¯m very busy you know.¡±


    I took that moment to examine the device. It was a cylinder about thirty centimeters long and ten centimeters in diameter, mounted on a tripod. The wrapping plate of steel that made up the body was refusing to fit under the cap, leaving a confusing array of gears and inscriptions open to my eyes.


    ¡°What is this anyway?¡± I asked.


    The little man glanced over at me, then went back to his hammering. Though he did deign to answer my question.


    ¡°An artificer eh?¡± He asked, his eyes shrewd.


    ¡°Amateur at best,¡± I admitted, pulling my crude mechanical pencil from my storage bag and handing it to him.


    The man looking it over, worked it a little, then snorted, ¡°Amateur to be certain, but it has practical use.¡±


    He handed the pencil back and I stowed it in by bag again, ¡°So¡­ what is it then?¡±


    He sighed, ¡°If you¡¯re going to annoy me with talking, at least help me fit this casing. It needs to be done before noon so that I can send it off to the border for testing.¡±


    I complied, stepping forward to examine the plate. It was a mirror image of the plate which covered the other half of the device and had clearly been cast for this specific purpose. Unfortunately, it was warped. I was tempted to believe that the hammering of this mad scientist was to blame, but the few extra deformities I could see were not causing the fitting problem.


    ¡°You dropped this, didn¡¯t you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hm.¡± He grumped, then got back to hammering.


    Multiple times then. Great.


    I plucked the hammer from his hand mid-swing, then used a screwdriver to remove the plate completely. Professor Feldt did not protest, but simply watched as I cleared a place on one of the benches nearby and gave the casing a few good whacks with the hammer. I took it back to the device and eyeballed it, going back to make further adjustment twice more before finally fitting it to the contraption.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Professor Feldt grinned, ¡°You¡¯ve got a good eye for shapes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an enchanter.¡± I noted.


    ¡°Oh-ho, see anything you like in there?¡± He asked, his eyes gleaming.


    ¡°Your essence storage capacitor is a little strange,¡± I admitted, ¡°It looks a little¡­ cramped.¡±


    He waved a hand, ¡°It¡¯s a fractal. For something as simple as a repeating mathematical loop, you can fit more in less space if you do that.¡±


    I blinked, then nodded suddenly, ¡°Of course. Why don¡¯t I see more of that?¡±


    The man guffawed, ¡°Don¡¯t often see enchanted items that need more than a few charges left in them, this is different.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to tell me what it is?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a portable ward.¡± He said, ¡°Detection only, but it makes quite a racket when it senses monsters.¡±


    ¡°A ward?¡± I asked incredulously, ¡°How are you projecting it? I thought wards only extended as far as their inscription.¡±


    ¡°Normally yes,¡± He said, ¡°But this one pulses a signal out that is attuned to unpurified essence. If it runs into something like that, the pulse returns and sets off the whole thing. That¡¯s why it needs to hold such a large charge. A bit more expensive, but a huge time saver.¡±


    I regarded the object a little more respectfully, ¡°Who is supposed to use this? Seems a little excessive for an adventuring party.¡±


    The artificer shrugged, ¡°Not my department. I just design things. The dean usually finds someone who can use it.¡±


    I turned to him, ¡°So, now do you have time to tell me about gray magic?¡±


    The man sighed, then began packing the object away in a crate labeled for shipping, ¡°I suppose I can answer three questions for you.¡±


    ¡°How can I get more questions?¡± I asked instantly.


    ¡°Bring me knowledge, but remember, knowledge is only as powerful as the truth it contains,¡± He said with the air of someone quoting scripture, ¡°If your information is good, it is worth something. If not, then I owe you nothing. Two.¡±


    I paused, then spoke again, ¡°Do you regenerate essence at an absurd rate compared to other mages?¡±


    Professor Feldt nodded, ¡°Noticed that too eh? I tell most of my pupils to keep that under wraps. Our ability to transfer essence to other mages is uncommon knowledge, but the ability to heal the soul at a rapid rate? That¡¯s unknown and is something truly valuable. You haven¡¯t been blabbing, have you?¡±


    I shook my head, ¡°No, there might be an alchemist in Vern who suspects it, but I haven¡¯t told her the limits of my ability to regenerate essence.¡±


    He snorted, ¡°Cardinal mages think they have magic sorted out. She might suspect, but she will always come up against what she ¡®knows¡¯ versus what she suspects.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like cardinal mages, do you?¡± I asked.


    He laughed, ¡°Listen boy, I don¡¯t need pity from a person whose greatest accomplishment in life is the ability to throw a fireball at a screeching monster. Most cardinal mages see my abilities and think that I am defective. Don¡¯t have much time for those who don¡¯t appreciate what I can do. That¡¯s your last question.¡±


    I groaned. Wasted on a reflexive question. The twinkle of amusement in the man¡¯s eyes convinced me that he had been more than willing to capitalize on my mistake to get out from under his self-imposed obligation.


    ¡°Now, for the love of Tyr, get out,¡± He said, ¡°Come back when you have something substantial to offer me. I¡¯m very busy.¡±


    I looked around the room. I would honestly have been unsurprised to hear that the man was visited daily by an angry aerotheurge.


    ¡°I can see that.¡± I noted.


    He gestured at the door by way of reply and I left. Not what I had been expecting, but probably for the best. Professor Feldt was certainly a font of knowledge, but one that I honestly didn¡¯t have much time to tap right now.


    My time at the Collegio Academico had been enlightening. I now had a direction to go, and the faintest glimmer of hope that I could accomplish something that was becoming more of a pipe dream than I cared to think about.


    Now, it was time to get to work.

 Hunted

    My next stop was the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. While the Collegio library is a veritable font of knowledge, it has more than its fair share of books on theory and speculation. What I was hoping for was something a little more concrete than that. Luckily for me, the Adventurers¡¯ Guild boasted a modest library which was focused around two simple tasks. Killing, and not being killed by, monsters.


    The receptionist at the guild took one look at my alchemist¡¯s pin and gestured me inside. The Alchemists¡¯ Guild had a very close relationship with the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. It stood to reason, considering that the two professions fed into each other almost perfectly. Membership in either guild conferred a certain amount of courtesy when entering the hall of the other.


    I bypassed the notice boards and lounge (more of a tavern really), and headed for the archives.


    While adventurers are not always known for their scholarship, it is rare for a successful adventurer to not have spent more than a few weeks of time researching the collected knowledge of their forebears. Adventuring was a dangerous profession, but a profitable one, as essence and monster parts had many uses beyond alchemy. Anyone who was looking to make a profit, and survive, benefitted greatly from some time spent in the small room they had prepared specifically for the task of enlightening prospective and current adventurers.


    When I told the small librarian that I was researching a potion to treat spiritual afflictions and needed information on creatures capable of inflicting such, she practically threw a half-dozen books at me.


    ¡°Let me know if you need anything else!¡± She said brightly.


    I smiled back and held up the stack of books that was weighing me down, ¡°I think I have enough for now¡­¡±


    She returned to sitting behind her desk and I dumped the pile of books on a table before sitting down. I pulled several sheaves of paper from my storage and got to work.


    XXXXXX


    I rubbed the side of my head and groaned as I set aside the third book which I had been provided. Glancing over at the librarian, I saw her look of mixed pity and amusement.


    ¡°Could I have you reserve these other three for me tomorrow?¡± I asked, gesturing at the books I had yet to open.


    She nodded, ¡°Of course Master Dyre. Did you find what you were looking for?¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°Somewhat. Do you know if the guild has any wraith ectoplasm on hand?¡±


    She shivered at the mention of the creature. A wraith is technically classified as an undead, although it is not born of the perished body of a sapient person. It is instead a collection of strong memories which have coalesced into an ephemeral being. The problem is, most wraiths are born from the ancient battlefields of the Broken Lands and are the twisted amalgamation of the memories of warriors present on both sides of the battle.


    Their wailing cackle is more than just a psychological attack, it is a magical projection of the madness of the creature, which can drive all but the most hardened adventurers into either terror, or unparalleled battle-lust. Even worse, wraiths which kill adventurers soak up a portion of their victim¡¯s memories and magic, making them stronger and more cunning.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not Master Dyre,¡± She said, ¡°Why would you need that anyways?¡±


    I glanced at the pile of notes I had taken, ¡°It¡¯s just a thought, but I might be able to use it in a specialized potion. I guess I¡¯ll have to look elsewhere. Maybe the dispensary¡­¡±


    I returned the books to the librarian, gathered up my scattered notes, and headed out into the fading evening.


    The Adventurers¡¯ Guild is located almost two kilometers from Tanna¡¯s house, so the growing twilight was fading to darkness over middle town as I finally got onto the street where Derrick and Tanna lived. That, of course, was when my assailants struck.


    The first sign of danger was when I smelled the presence of freshly turned loam. Considering that I was walking on cobbles, my recently heightened paranoia sent a shock of adrenaline through my system. It was probably the only reason why I was able to awkwardly throw myself to said cobblestone road as a baseball-sized rock went sailing through the space which my head had occupied.


    A geomancer, lovely.


    Spitting out the awareness spell, I felt the darkness around me sharpen into colorless definition as I rolled to the side and scrabble to my feet. The geomancer who had tried to take me by surprise was already moving, followed by a man and a woman dressed in similar leather clothing. It turned out that I was being mugged by the Esturian equivalent of a biker gang.


    Seeing that I was outnumbered, I made the only logical choice.


    I ran.


    ¡°Bloody murder!¡± I yelled.


    The mages on my tail seemed to be upset by my unwillingness to stand and fight. Shouts echoed behind me, and I tried to zig-zag without losing too much ground. My efforts were rewarded as another projectile hurtled past me rather than plastering me to the ground.


    Of course, running from a geomancer will only serve you for as long as said geomancer fails to remember a fundamental question which all earthquake victims have asked before: When the ground becomes your enemy, where do you run?


    I stumbled as the earth beneath my feet warped strangely. I managed to skip ahead another few meters, then fell flat on my face. I looked up to see a figure step into the road, my heart sinking as it raised its hands. I clenched my eyes shut, feeling panic and fury well up inside of me.


    ¡®Not this¡­ Not again.¡¯ I thought, the chill of Solus¡¯ dungeon seeping into my bones.


    Waves of heat washed over me, and I waited for the burning to start, even as I summoned my incomplete staff into my hands. I knew that there was no way I would be able to defeat these mages, but there was a possibility that I could force them to kill me. That would be preferable to what I felt was the alternative.


    Screams behind me interrupted my melancholic thoughts. My eyes flashed open and I looked closer at the newcomer. Rather than a nondescript thug, I was greeted by the sweaty face of Derrick. For some reason, it had slipped my mind that the husband of my host was not only a blacksmith, but a former adventurer.


    Sparks danced across Derrick¡¯s fingers as a sheet of flame illuminated the world around me, casting orange-tinted shadows into the alleys of the street. I glanced back and saw the geomancer rolling on the ground as tendrils of earth beat at him savagely as they attempted to extinguish his clothing. The other figure had enveloped herself in a shield of water, from which gouts of steam erupted as she strove to hold back Derrick¡¯s attack.


    The third person was gone. I blinked in surprise at that, then saw a still figure a couple dozen steps behind the two mages who had come after me. It was unmoving, and I had a suspicion that it was nothing but a corpse.


    As I watched, a shadow detached itself from a nearby alley, forming itself into a person as Derrick¡¯s flames began to waver. Moving low, it approached the hydromancer with a grace that left me totally unprepared when it blurred into sudden action.


    The four meters between the two mages disappeared in a moment as Derrick¡¯s reserves finally gave out. A flash of steel interrupted the triumphant grin on the hydromancer¡¯s face, turning her expression to surprise, then pain. Her body convulsed as the figure plunged a knife into her kidneys several more times, then left her to slump to the ground.


    The geomancer rose up, roaring as he lunged at the new figure. The geomancer must have completed at least one round of agility elixirs, because he moved fast. Not fast enough though. The newest figure batted aside the incoming blade, then stepped in, his own weapon laying open the stomach of the geomancer.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    I grimaced and stood up, holding my weapon before me as the figure approached.


    ¡°Derrick,¡± I said, feeling a strange calm settle over me, ¡°Get Tanna and Miriam and barricade yourselves in the workroom. Use the potions in there if you need to.¡±


    The figure flicked his blades clean and sheathed them before speaking, ¡°Don¡¯t be like that Master Dyre, I think we have a shared acquaintance. Pyromancer, nasty disposition, a face that only a mother could love?¡±


    I paused, still not lowering my staff, ¡°How do I know that you actually work with Vesk?¡±


    The figure sighed, ¡°Hold on, I¡¯ve got this here somewhere¡­¡±


    With a laugh of triumph, the man removed a scroll case from his belt and tossed it to me. I caught the object and stepped back, keeping an eye on him as I struggled to open it while maintaining my grip on my staff. Inside was a sheaf of parchment and a soul gem, apparently removed from its phylactery.


    I read the note.


    Ethan,


    The bearer of this letter is associated with the house of Arefina. You may trust him with your life, as I once trusted you with my own.


    Tylee Arefina


    The signature looked legitimate enough, but the real kicker was the stone. While most mages use phylacteries as a way to store purified essence for use, they do have another use. A mage can channel a bit of their power into one, which allows it to act as a sort of calling card. As I touched the phylactery stone to my own head, I drew from it. Instead of essence, I felt earth magic flow, and the song of earth whispered deep within my soul.


    Without the proper affinity or soul to utilize such power, the magic was entirely useless, and faded in a matter of moments. Nonetheless, I recognized that feeling. I had practically bathed in it when Tylee, with my assistance, had performed a great work to save our lives.


    It was entirely possible that this man had killed Vesk¡¯s associate and robbed him of this object. That said, if he had done so, there was no reason why he would bother with words while subduing me. I lowered my staff, looking to the side to see that Derrick, despite my admonition, had stayed by my side. He was breathing heavily.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked.


    The man flourished a bow, ¡°Kellen the Farsighted, at your service. You may have heard of my exploits.¡±


    I shook my head, ¡°Not really.¡±


    A strangled sound came from beside me. It seemed that Derrick knew who this man was.


    Disappointment flashed across the man¡¯s face momentarily, though it was quickly wiped away by a grin, ¡°Excellent, one more person to awe with my talents!¡±


    I glanced at the three bodies, ¡°Consider me impressed. You must be an aerotheurge.¡±


    ¡°A windwalker!¡± The man expounded, ¡°I see that I am not the only one with good eyes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an awareness spell,¡± I admitted, ¡°Otherwise I would still be wondering how three mages had just died. You¡¯re kind of late, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Kellen held up a finger, ¡°Three against one is not good odds, and two is not much better if your compatriot is no warrior. Besides, I am a fighter of more¡­ elegant standards than these thugs.¡±


    I groaned, ¡°You were going to wait until they grabbed me, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    He grinned, ¡°It seemed like it would be the most opportune moment.¡±


    ¡°And if I had died?¡± I asked incredulously.


    ¡°Life is fleeting,¡± He said theatrically, then met my eyes seriously, ¡°But I always protect my team. Not with sword and shield, but with a well-placed blade. While I am watching over you, you have nothing to fear.¡±


    ¡°Kellen is famous in adventuring circles,¡± Derrick noted, ¡°I can vouch for that.¡±


    ¡°Why would a famous adventurer be pulling guard duty?¡± I asked suspiciously.


    ¡°Vesk is an old friend,¡± Kellen replied, ¡°When he calls, I answer.¡±


    ¡°You adventured with Vesk?¡± I asked incredulously.


    Kellen nodded.


    ¡°How did he not wring your neck out in the Broken Lands?¡± I asked.


    Kellen laughed, ¡°There¡¯s a reason why they call me farsighted. I can spot that man¡¯s temper from a mile away and know exactly what direction to move in for optimum frustration relief.¡±


    ¡°Killing monsters?¡± I offered.


    ¡°Killing monsters!¡± He confirmed, then turned away, ¡°I¡¯m afraid that this little scuffle will attract the Seekers. It¡¯s best if you get inside, I will try to smooth things out. Though I would expect a visit from an officer of the Seekers to ratify my statement.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I said to Kellen, holding out my hand.


    Though he had been dismally late, the man had saved me from death, or even worse. I saw no point in antagonizing him.


    He looked at the proffered appendage, then grinned as he took it, ¡°You¡¯re a very unusual nobleman!¡±


    I snorted, ¡°I¡¯m not noble in the least.¡±


    His grin grew wider, ¡°Then you are indeed noble good sir!¡±


    With that, the man disappeared into the night. I glanced over at Derrick, only to find him leaning against the doorway to his shop. I quickly helped the bulky man inside and moved him towards the stairs.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t done anything like that in¡­ years.¡± Derrick breathed heavily, ¡°Used to be able to do a lot more.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been neglecting your meditation.¡± I accused.


    The blacksmith looked chagrined, ¡°Never had much patience for it in the first place.¡±


    I sighed, ¡°How are your reserves?¡±


    He chuckled, ¡°I¡¯m out of practice Ethan, not stupid. I know enough to not burn myself out.¡±


    I muttered an attunement spell anyway, only to find that Derrick was living with far more than a simple lack of practice.


    ¡°I take it your career ended when you overdosed on potions?¡± I asked.


    He chuckled, ¡°I got a little too fond of the surge of power associated with strength potions. Started to wonder why everybody kept telling me to wait a couple months between uses. I was young, foolish, and exceedingly robust. By the time I was done my liver and both kidneys had to be fully regenerated. Would have taken a great work to completely fix all the muscular problems. Your elixirs have helped a bit though.¡±


    ¡°They should have worked on your head too.¡± I muttered, ¡°What you really need is a potion of intelligence.¡±


    Derrick¡¯s laugh descended into a coughing fit, and I eased him down into a chair in his shop. I summoned a bottle from my bag and handed it to the man.


    ¡°Drink up,¡± I said, ¡°It tastes terrible, but it should help with the pain.¡±


    He made a sour face as he pulled the bottle away from his lips, ¡°That¡¯s awful.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s made from dead monsters and magical herbs,¡± I replied, ¡°I didn¡¯t think to add any artificial cherry to it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± I said, ¡°You¡¯d better hope that Tanna didn¡¯t notice that little stunt.¡±


    He groaned, then sat upright as the sound of a throat clearing came from above us. We glanced up to see the herald of a coming storm. A woman with brown hair and eyes that blazed with vengeance.


    ¡°I hope you prayed for absolution last time you were at the temple.¡± I noted as the valkyrie descended on us, ¡°Because we may not survive this.¡±


    XXXXXX


    Diella¡¯s angry glare greeted me the next morning after knocking on her door.


    ¡°Where were you yesterday?¡± She asked acerbically.


    ¡°Well, someone did try to kidnap me,¡± I noted.


    Her anger turned to concern, ¡°Are you injured?¡±


    Ah, a true healer.


    ¡°Nothing more than scrapes or bruises,¡± I said, gesturing at the bandages I had wrapped around my own body.


    She looked at my wounds like they were marks of suspicion, ¡°Let me see them.¡±


    ¡°Out here?¡± I wondered.


    She ushered me inside and looked at the injuries on my hands, knees, and legs. All of them were sustained during my fall, as nobody had really gotten an opportunity to stick a blade in me. A favorable outcome in any circumstance.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t heal yourself.¡± She noted.


    I shrugged, ¡°I try to limit my use of white magic as best I can. Besides the time I have spent with you, I¡¯ve been white magic free since I left the Arefina manor.¡±


    ¡°Do you intend to permanently abstain from the use of white magic?¡± She challenged.


    ¡°Whenever I can.¡± I replied.


    ¡°What about if a friend lays dying in your hands?¡±


    ¡°Of course, I would use my power then.¡± I say.


    ¡°And after so much time spent holding back, keeping yourself away from that power, what do you think would happen?¡± She asked.


    I hesitated, then spoke, ¡°I would fall.¡±


    She nodded, ¡°Abstaining from usage is the only real way to deal with any kind of addiction. For white mages though, it is not a matter of staying away from the substance of addiction. It is a matter of divorcing yourself from the desire to help others. The desire to cultivate life.¡±


    ¡°All the willpower in the world will not save you from your own altruism.¡± She ended.


    ¡°And so¡­?¡± I asked.


    ¡°So I am teaching you to resist the influence of white magic in small ways, to help you build up resistance for when you need to perform more intensive healing. Control over your magic is the key, you must be the master of your power, not a slave to it.¡± She said, ¡°It is also why I am sternly warning you away from supplementing with external essence. Using more magic than you are naturally capable of producing is harmful to all mages, and especially to white mages.¡±


    She glanced around her empty shop, ¡°Now off with you, and don¡¯t miss our session tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Even if I¡¯m getting mugged?¡± I inquired, a hint of a smile on my face.


    She raised an eyebrow at me, ¡°You are not as funny as you seem to think you are.¡±


    I left it at that.


    I stopped at a small wagon on my way out of the lower city and bought a pair of skewers with a yellow root vegetable and what appeared to be chicken impaled on them. The man working the small grill in his little wagon gestured me close after I chatted with him for a few moments and handed him a silver penny.


    ¡°I would be wary friend,¡± He said in a low voice, ¡°Someone in the lower city is asking around about a man matching your description.¡±


    I nodded gratefully and motioned for him to keep the change. He gave me a gap-toothed grin and winked.


    ¡°Many thanks sir.¡± He said, tapping the cheek below his right eye in salute of his favored deity.


    ¡°Likewise.¡± I said, turning away with my food.


    The roots were a little mushy and the meat was dry, but the seasoning more than made up for it. I made a mental note of the area and decided to visit the vendor again. If not for his food, then for his willingness to take a little coin in exchange for information.


    I deposited the skewers in my bag, still finding myself unable to conform to the local custom of throwing trash into the nearest sewer drain, and made my way back towards the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. It would probably take me most of the day to grind through the three volumes I had reserved. After last night, I was looking forward to the monotony of the task.