Simone walked in the room.
-Who was that just now? Someone said the name Ethan, three times.
Ethan shook his head, peeking out from under the bed.
-Hey there, come out and help me turn Tommy on his back, Mr. Ethan R. Samhal. By the way, what is that R. standing there for?
-Wouldn't you like to know...
answered him quickly making both of his eyebrows go up and down in a funny way. One on each side of Tommy, Simone opened a drawer, fetching a collar from inside it.
-Before we proceed with turning him we have to slap this bad boy on for support.
-What is it?
Asked a worried Tommy.
-Just a collar, dear boy. Hold still: I'll try and do it as carefully as possible.
When that was done, with the same amount of care, they flipped him and raised the top of his bed so that he could see them better.
-Now, if you feel up to it, Tommy, we would like to bring you up to speed on the current situation.
-It's alright. I can listen.
Said him in a very guarded tone. For some reason he had no problem being less shielded with the young Rokian than he did with Simone.
Not that he lacked motivations for not trusting shady merchants, as of late. When they were done with the show and tell, unlike Ethan, Tommy wasn't as impressed: he had a bitter expression and was looking angrily at his magic interface.
-So, your big plan is to put all of us in danger for some obscure reason?
-Nothing obscure, Tommy.
Said Ethan from his armchair raising a finger as to pin what he was saying to an imaginary board.
-Look, I am new to thoughts and all, so maybe to you my opinion might not carry lot of weight, but even I understand that treating people the way these royals are, like less than trash, is no way of government and that creating slaves for fun, and thinking that all is allowed to them because they are self-proclaimed VIPs is disgusting. This is no small favor we would be doing for the whole Havenrock.
-Glad that you feel that way, but this is not my priority: I am a trader.
There was no whining or aggression in his tone of voice, he was calm, straightforward and direct, saying what he felt he had to with genuine honesty.
-I have someone I have to help already, and it would be a fool's errand too many, was I to add your chore to the list.
Madame Boule stepped forward a little, promptly bottling Ethan's rebuke in his throat.
-Well, tell us about it: maybe we can help each other out. I mean, no offense but, at current, I don't think you would go very far as an independent trader. You might have some contacts, but you have no credit, no merchandise nor means. While I really want us to work together and a trader might come in handy: a trader, might be just what we need.
She said with emphasis.
-And what would an ex-warlord turned profiteer need a trader for? I think you already have enough money to finance your suicide mission, don't ya?
-Cheeky boy... is not polite to ask about one's finances, but we are not here to care about politeness. Yes, I do have... Plenty: money is not what I would be after. A trader is a perfect excuse, a believable cover for traveling the lands and possible source of information with the advantage of being able to go wherever he needs to be, whenever he wants to. Am I correct when I assume that you would only need to undergo your final test in order to become a certified trader?
-Yes, you would be right... but it is not easy.
-That, we can indeed help you with. You have no combat experience nor magic handling practice: should your final test involve exploration, wilds' materials gathering, or even shady deals with third parties, you must be able to defend yourself.
She paused for dramatic effect then casually asked
-Tell me, as far as you know, how many are crippled or killed during the final tests?
-Quite a bit... Actually, too many for my liking.
-I don't know why you need to be a trader to fulfill your personal quest, but we are your best chance, I would say.
-And all of this help, just for some information gathering?
-And again the chance to be where we need to without arising suspicions. A strike is only good if it can reach its target, is it not? We have to be subtle and outplay our enemies: also shooting in the dark is not an option. I am a member of the royal princes court, so I can give you contacts beyond your imagination for both trading and... Whatever else it is that you have to do.
Tommy Pope averted his eyes, pointing them at his Aw-k, where his “first choice” was showing him the four options, with the cards. His heart wasn't light and he didn't know if he could trust these people, but they had saved his life, so far: sure more than Samson would have ever done for him.
-Alright, I don't like making big mysteries out of something that is simple and so important to me. Teach me how to fight, help me out with my finals, and I will tell you what I need to do and help you with whatever you need, for as long as our paths will allow it.
Ethan was smiling, looking at Madame Boule for confirmation: she nodded.
-Very well! Gentlemen, we have a deal. And don't worry, we will make it all legal: God knows the traders' guild likes its bureaucracy, if nothing else, for covering their arses and screwing up people.
Madame Boule firmly shook hands with both of the young men.
-Where do we start?
Asked Ethan, his tail wagging left and right so fast it would have made envy to a rattle snake. Tommy was trying to keep a calm and collected facade, but his engine was spinning just as much; he thanked the heavens he didn't have a tail.
Madame Boule clapped her hands then explained.
-No matter what type of mage you guys will choose to be starting tomorrow, right now the day is almost over and I really want to give you time to think things through and not rush into this choice: it is an important first step that would take a lot of time to rectify in case you would want to change style later because you will learn and combine a lot of skills, for best suiting your magic's type and your personal needs.
-This evening, we will find out your natural element. It is a simple task that only takes maximum one hour, for what I have ever seen, but it is basic and necessary. Is it something you have done already, Tommy? Oh, can I call you Tommy?
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
-Little late to worry about that, but that is my name, Madame Boule.
-Simone, if you please.
-Alright. I don't have my main element unlocked, yet. Samson always said there was some expensive procedure to fulfill, an elemental branding ceremony, and that I needed to save the money on my own.
-I don't know what he was having you save the money for, but to initiate the process you just need to go to someone who has an enchanter pond, which I happen to have in the other room. Allow me to go and grab it.
Madame Boule left the room and, before long, Ethan was in front of Tommy, on a red chair.
-Magic, man. We are going to learn flippin' magic. How cool is that?
Not really able to keep his hands still while talking.
-It is... interesting okay? We might be awful at it, plus after a while it all becomes old skin and you won't think about it.
-Man, who pooped in your milk?
Asked with a disgusted frown Ethan.
-I am sorry. I am happy too, but it has been a weird pair of days, man and I have so many things to take in... I don't know what I should be feeling. I am still alive, but I have to reconsider...
he slowed it down grasping for words.
-A lot, maybe all my life.
Ethan patted him on the shoulder. Real life was messy.
Simone came back not a moment too soon, holding a black velvety bag by its long cloth handles which didn't look too heavy, judging by how she was carrying it with just one hand.
-Here we go!
She pulled a milky shiny ball of what looked like glass and dropped it with care in Tommy's lap.
-This is an enchanter pool. As you might see it is nothing fancy: just some water containing a spell and mana of all known types in it, plus a lot of neutral, element-free mana. Please, be careful not to drop it on the floor or it would create some kind of mini tornado with very unpleasant bells and whistles.
-Usually having a go at this is available at any decent bazaar from ten to maybe fifty Thalers, depending on the city and occasion.
-Right, another of Samson's lies. I get it, being unable to pass the final exam meant less competition for him... And for me, following the man around like his minimal wage pet indefinitely.
-Don't waste energy hating him: he is a lowlife old school tough guy, a criminal at heart. Too many years of self-serving loneliness made it only worse. In his eyes he still made you an enormous service: I am actually surprised he paid you period.
-Eh, I had to squeeze him hard to get that. That was actually the reason why he took me in: he said he had no need for spineless people.
Madame Boule took a needle pen from the bag and put a fresh prod in it, then passed it to Ethan.
-This is how it works: you use the needle to prick a finger, then let just one droplet of blood on it and enjoy the light show.
-That's all?
Asked the Rokian with mixed feelings
-Meh. We are humans: laziness comes natural to us, which also means making things easy. Once, this took a soul trip during which your spirit would literally abandon your body for entire days. It wasn't too rare for people to be unable to get back.
-I'll take the light show, thank you.
She giggled a little. Ethan was looking at the swirling Pool, lighted by sheer magical force, wondering what was going to happen. He winced a little when the needle pierced him then dropped his one red bead on the sphere. The blood stood on the surface for a few seconds, waiting for the water to be still, then sipped through what was clearly not glass and slowly fell towards the middle of the pool swinging like a dead leaf, leaving a smoky squiggly red trail behind itself. The light from the ball got stronger but Ethan couldn't close his eyes: he tried moving back but he was like hot glued in his position, unable even to breath.
It took him all he had got to muster the will to shut his eyelids, and got surprised, to say the very least, by what he experienced on the other side. It was a rainy and gloomy day: he had a cape on and some old rags, instead of the stylish clothes Simone had given him, a black snake waiting for him, hidden in a bush. What happened after, is already history. (Note: See chapter one)
When it was all over, he found himself with his left index stuck in his mouth, his face all too close to the pool and, without wanting to, gasping, hungry for air, shaking, while filled by a strong mix of fear and anger: inside the ball was a simpler, smoky black rendition of the gigantic snake, looking at him with shiny blood-red eyes. Madame Boule got to his side, supporting him just before he could fall to the ground. The young man gazed at her face for a second, worried, then immediately looked back at the pool, but the “thing” was already disappearing, sucked back in the mana that had started swirling once more.
-Sit down, here.
She helped him, passing him a glass of water too. The cold water helped him slow down his gears.
-Magic. I saw things. I was... somewhere else, a gigantic black snake was chasing me, like that in the ball... I somehow had let it out of its egg. Then... I can't really say what happened after, not sure.
He took another long, generous gulp of water.
-It was all so real: the rain, thunders, the pain... and I was so afraid. I almost died in there, but all I could think about was that I was failing myself, and you guys, and I didn't want to, so I kept on going.
He thought he was done talking about it, but he was starting to feel better, so he added
-Tonight I am going have my first nightmare, for sure.
-You saw all this?
-Way more than this, man. A good thirty minutes of trying not to die.
-It was no more than twenty seconds here, just the time for the enchanter pool to draw the snake with your blood.
While they were talking, Madame Boule had taken out a paper booklet and was quickly flipping pages searching, until she yelled
-Aha! Here you have it: one single black snake. It's Shadow. Good to know. Never actually worked with your element, but I guess there is always a first time.
-Shadow... is that a good or a bad one?
He asked unsure of what to make of himself.