ABBAS

Abbas calmed down some thirty minutes later, having thoroughly exhausted himself and his tear ducts. He laid there, hunched up as the slowly setting sun cast its last rays of light into the room.

He felt so pathetic. What kind of orc resorted to tears just because a few humans said mean words about him? Any other boy from a Pig Orc tribe would set his fists against anybody who dared to slander him.

But that was why Abbas was here and not one of them. As much as he might look like a Pig Orc, he did not have their spirit. A weak-willed runt who spent far too much time reading books and experimenting with the arcane. That’s why he’d been sent off when the representative from the IPMC came by, asking for a contract. They didn’t want to waste any more resources on him and the promise of monthly donations of high-quality equipment in exchange for Abbas’ talent in mind magic was too good to pass up.

Of course, if he failed to complete his internship, he’d have a lot more to worry about than his peers bullying him.

It’s okay, he tried to tell himself, still lying where he’d collapsed on the floor. You’ll make it. You were chosen for a reason, Abbas! Who knows, maybe the years I spent learning all these spells will impress them all. I’ll be chosen for sure.

He hoped so, anyway.

But Abbas could worry about his chances of success tomorrow. Today was the day to relax and settle in before the craziness started. He remembered the words of the department head clearly; the not-all-there human had certainly hinted that a lot of work was gonna be dumped on his and the other interns’ heads. He needed to rest while he could.

And the best way to do that was by making this room his. He was going to be staying in it for a year, after all.

Picking himself off the floor, he wondered if this would be his room even after his internship was up. Or would he be moved to another room so a new intern could take his place?

He inhaled deeply, taking in the unfamiliar scents of the small dorm room...And then coughing and choking on the dust that flew up into his nostrils. This room had not been used for a long time. That or the company employed a lazy cleaning staff.

Either way, he’d enjoy cleaning it all up.

After recovering from the dust attack, he bent down to pick up his suitcase. As he pulled it up, the worn leather handle tore under the force of his grip. The bag hung precariously from the thin threads still attached to the handle before those, too, snapped under the stress.

Sighing, he took a step towards the small desk under the single, decently-sized window and set the leather handle down on it. Turning and bending all in one smooth motion, he wrapped his arms around the bulk of the suitcase and hauled it up. His muscled arms groaned under the weight of the too-full bag.

Careful not to squeeze too hard, he gently set it down on the twin bed shoved into one corner of the room. Even that small jostle was enough to pop the seams, sending the pull tab careening into the far wall. “Huh,” he grunted. “Maybe I should’ve used more copper for a better bag…”

Oh, well. You live, you learn.

He flipped open the lid and smiled down at his belongings. Sadly, they were all he owned, but it brought pride to his chest to know that, for the most part, everything in here, he’d either made, found, or bought with his own money and effort.

He first pulled out his meager clothing and put it away in the bedside dresser. Besides what he wore on his back, he had two cloth tunics that were more patchworks of whatever fabrics he could get his hands on. The leather one he wore now he kept for special occasions, like traveling to fancy realms. The representative had said he’d get the standard uniform shortly after he checked into the dorm - he was still waiting on that, though.

Underneath that were the tools he used to make his clothes, carefully contained in a small wooden box: a pair of rudimentary scissors he’d constructed, needles, and a single spool of thread he used to make repairs to his clothing. He kissed it softly before sliding it into the second drawer on the dresser. “Stay safe in there.”

He’d brought his lunchbox as well; he’d assembled it from the scraps of metal he’d traded a blacksmith for as a kid. The horribly dented sides he’d tried to smooth out with a mallet - which he’d also brought with him - brought fond memories to mind, specifically bashing in the head of a Little Boar that decided he’d be a good snack for the evening.

“Homeworld sure is traumatizing,” Abbas mused, caressing the sides of the lunchbox before setting it on the dresser, next to the lamp. Let me turn you on, he thought, conscious of the rapidly fading sunlight. He fondled the lamp, looking for a chain to turn it on before he realized it was probably mana-powered. Like everything else in this place.

His wandering fingers found the necessary runes, and he called up a small amount of the arcane energy from his well of power. It obeyed his call, traveled up and through his arm, out of his finger, and into the lamp. He grinned as the mana bulb flickered on, bathing the dorm room in its dim blue glow.

“Who says mana is useless now, Papern?” he muttered, turning back to his bag. “You would have to stay in the dark...Not that you’d have any problems with that…”

Stolen novel; please report.

Before he could sour his good mood thinking about his father, he took out the last of the contents of his suitcase. The grimoire looked small in his giant hands but its pages brimmed with arcane power. Although it had been meant for a child of a race that had long passed from Homeworld, judging by the sloppy handwriting and whimsical doodles on the beginning pages, it satisfied his magical needs for the most part. The simple spells it contained - the majority having been written by its previous owner - had taught him much in the ways of magic. Most were utility-based, but the previous owner had just been learning some offensive and defensive spells before it fell into Abbas’ hands.

He always wondered what happened to the kid it belonged to. Hopefully, they had died a quick and painless death.

“Enough thinking!” he exclaimed, flipping open the grimoire. It was time for a little magic! He found the proper spell on page 3 and began collecting mana in his palm.

Free-hand casting was dangerous for even the most trained mages, but it was second nature to him by now. He’d never been lucky enough to find a wand and his tribe would never be rich enough for a merchant carrying magical items to visit. That’s why he’d had to keep the grimoire a secret; the elders would take it in an instant if they knew that’s where he’d gotten his arcane schooling from.

His well was small, despite his consistent practice, but the spell only contained three runes: Mass-Dirt-Purify.

The spell was surprisingly complicated for one based on cleaning. It required higher elements of mana to fuel its runic components - ‘space’ and ‘light’. He wasn’t well-versed in either, but he had practiced enough with both that he could comprehend their most basic runes. It helped that earth was a part of the rune chain, too; after ‘mind’, ‘earth’ was his best element.

It took him only a second to convert the raw mana from his well into the necessary elements and two more to cast it. Frequent use of Purify Dirt made him almost an expert at casting it. He smirked as he watched the collected mana expand in a wave of muddy grey light, reaching every corner of the room in mere seconds. A sharp hiss resounded through the air as the spell erased every inch of the impurities hidden around the room.

He held the spell until the hissing stopped and then cut it off. Smiling, he set the grimoire on the dresser. “Another hard day of work finished,” he sighed, flopping onto his bed…

...And promptly smashing the thin mattress through the bed frame.

“Just great,” he groaned.

NIERELLE

“Forgive me,” the low-born said for the tenth time. Their...friends had since left after cleaning up their mess but the androgynous elf insisted on saying her persistent apologies. “You did not appear for many hours; this one was beginning to think she did not have a roommate-”

Oh, it’s a girl, Nierelle thought, taking a sip from the drink the low-born had whipped up for her. It was cold and smooth but at the same time grainy; the fruity aftertaste topped the strange taste off. It’d be easier to tell if her shirt wasn’t so baggy...

“-and so this one believed it would be..alright to take a brief rest-”

“Sure didn’t look like you were resting,” Nierelle murmured, swirling around the blueberries at the bottom of the cup.

The low-born flushed, bending even further so that her forehead was nearly touching the ground. Her long hair splashed against the immaculate floorboards. “Forgive me! The low-borns do not get chances to release so often!”

The harpy grimaced in her desk chair and set down the cup on the desk behind her. “I don’t care to hear the details of your private life, low-born.”

“For-”

“Please, for the love of all that is Vag, stop saying forgive me. I’m already putting the incident out of my mind.”

The low-born straightened up, her long, silvery locks flicking Nierelle in her hooked nose. She blinked back tears, her pale blue eyes puffy as if she’d been silently crying - probably was. These folk did everything quietly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Yes, yes,” Nierelle waved a hand. “Just...take your releases elsewhere.”

“Mistress Nierelle is very kind,” the low-born said, bowing once more. “If she wishes to join-”

“I’m alright,” she said hurriedly, standing up. She grabbed her glass and took a long, hard sip of the thick liquid inside. “I am not one to bed with low-borns.” The elf didn’t even flinch at the remark, simply nodding and leaving the harpy to her devices.

Back home, she was not a horny bird, chasing after anything that moved like the rest of her flock. She had neither the time nor the interest in pursuing male-bonds, servants, or fellow Council members. All she cared for was enchanting - and proving her worth to the flock. Nothing ruffled her feathers more than the flock wasting money on sexual deviants.

It could be better spent on me, she thought sourly, pulling her supply case onto the desk. The Council could have at least spared me some coin if they wanted me to be able to work during this month. Although, I suppose that’s the point. They want me to fail.

Huffing indignantly, she put the bad thoughts aside and went about meticulously checking everything she’d brought.

* Enchanting pen; 1 (100% charged with raw mana)

* Elemental Ink; 10x 20mL vials Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water

* Mana Crystals; 2x pouch of 40 sapphires (medium), 1x pouch of 20 emeralds (small)

* Enchanting Stones; 5x pouch of 30 (round), 1x pouch of 50 (square)

* Preserving Powder; 5x Jar of weak (30g), 1x Jar of Medium (50g)

* Unenchanted Wands; 50

A heavy sigh escaped her. Her specialties in enchanting lay in wands and stones, only. Even then, she could only do minor, minor enchantments with her limited skill. She didn’t receive enough money from the Council to fund a proper education, so most of what she learned came from books and imagination. She was nowhere near perfect, having only started the profession a year ago, but she couldn’t afford to waste a single drop of ink.

She had no other skills or talents, besides what little her uncle bothered to teach her in business. This...was it.

She would have to coast on low-grade enchanted wands and stones, hoping this was enough to get her by. If not…

Well, she tried not to think about what would happen if she failed.