“Rigel, are you familiar with the concept of fate?”
My immediate reaction is bewilderment. It’s not the question itself that bewildered me. It’s the fact that Nashira went out of her way to find me beneath the treehouse. Normally, she never leaves her underground home. I wonder what prompted this. Did she suddenly become interested in philosophy? No, if I look closely, there is a hint of anxiety or fear in her expression. However, it’s impossible to guess what she’s thinking just from that.
“Uh, fate… I think it’s the idea that the future is predetermined or inflexible. Some scholars think that we are puppets, acting out an elaborate play for the gods. The implications vary depending on who you ask but that’s the general idea. It makes sense to some degree because the universe is largely deterministic. In an experiment, we carefully control the conditions and then know what result to expect; cause and effect. Fate implies something even more fundamental and it’s a useless concept in my opinion. There is no way to know for certain if the future is predetermined or not.” My answer is sincere. With the same uneasy expression, she adds another question.
“What if one had prescience, the power to predict the future?”
“Like some kind of oracle? I’ve read some stories about them but I wonder if such a thing even exists. If the future can be predicted, doesn’t that invalidate the concept of free will? It would imply that fatalism is true, that events are inevitable and free will is an illusion. Well, it’s certainly possible that we’re all puppets on an invisible string without being aware of it. Even so, what could we do with that information? In a fatalistic universe, choice is meaningless. Some say only the gods are truly free, but that makes no difference for the rest of us. It also raises a bunch of other difficult questions.”
Nashira faces downward with her arms crossed as if she’s deep in thought, but I already noticed the subtle change she is trying to hide. She is disappointed by my answer. It’s an expression I have not seen from her before, even when my mistakes caused an experiment to go badly. I just said whatever crossed my mind. Was it that bad?
She raises her head again. It’s her normal face. “You are correct, Rigel. Thank you for the honest input. I won’t disturb you any further, please continue with your training.” She turns around and walks back into the tunnel with her usual small, graceful steps. I stare at her back as she leaves.
A little bit of mana-aura is leaking out of her body. Her control must be slipping. The only time this happens is when she is emotionally disturbed in some way, even if it doesn’t show on her face. Could she be holding something back again? That’s fine... If Nashira doesn’t want to tell me something then I will accept her decision. During the past month, I’ve been able to determine a few things about her character. For example, she is the most honest person I’ve ever known. She speaks with complete sincerity at all times. When there is something she doesn’t want to say, her guilt and discomfort are visible on her face and in the bit of aura that leaks out, like just now. Nothing was ever asked about my background or how I ended up here. She also never seems anxious when her back is turned toward me. As stated on the first day we met, she seems to trust me completely.
Under normal circumstances, I would call her naïve to the point of foolishness. It would be unthinkable for an ordinary person to accept an unknown mage into his home without demanding a single thing or asking any questions. Everyone knows that mages cannot be taken lightly. They can end lives with the wave of a hand and without any weapons. Nashira is far from ordinary however. Aside from being a demon, her knowledge and experience is far more extensive than mine and she has probably seen things that I can scarcely imagine. This could be why no apprehension is shown toward me.
If she wants to keep secrets despite her obvious discomfort at doing so, there must be a good reason for it. She has not given me any cause to doubt her intentions, so I return the favor. I will never pressure her to say anything she doesn’t want to. Her hospitality and kindness are enough. To demand more would be deplorable.
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This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
One particular morning, my concentration is disturbed during my daily meditation session. I feel a faint movement in the forest’s aura, like a ripple caused by a drop of water hitting the calm surface of a lake. Something is stirring near the edge of the forest to the south. Tiny mana tremors are coming from there. They would be too small to notice if there weren’t so many of them. I should investigate.
I run in a southward direction while teleporting part of the way to save time. As I approach the edge of the forest, two human auras appear in the distance. They are moving quickly. I teleport onto a tall tree branch and hide my presence while observing the situation. One of the two figures is a young boy, about 13 or 14 years old I would guess. His clothes are cheap cloth like those of a peasant. Running a few meters behind him is a ragged-looking man who is wearing a mix of leather armor and animal pelts, along with an axe in his right hand. The young boy is obviously running for his life. He is surprisingly fast on his feet without any magic, slowly gaining distance from the attacker behind him.
Seeing that he can’t catch him this way, the attacker slows down and readies his axe. At the same time, I enhance my body with magic. The axe is thrown at full strength. I instantly teleport behind the boy using ‘Divine Step’ and snatch the flying axe out of the air. With a spinning motion, I turn around and use the axe’s momentum to throw it back toward the attacker. He is too surprised to dodge in time and instead uses an arm to block it. He yells in pain as the axe cuts all the way to the bone. I won’t give him a chance to recover.
“Lightning Orb”
The spell covers the few meters between us in an instant and hits the man squarely in the chest. He yells again as the electrical energy causes all his muscles to spasm painfully for a few moments, after which he collapses on the ground unconscious. The spell was adjusted to make it non-lethal, but he won’t be able to walk for a few weeks unless he receives healing magic.
“Eh?” The young boy behind me notices the turn of events and stops running. He approaches with caution and asks “Are you a mage?” while breathing with difficulty. He must be exhausted from running so hard.
“Yes, I am.”
“Please, my village is being raided! Please help us!” He begs me with a desperate look in his eyes. No problem, I would have helped even if he didn’t ask.
I give a nod as a reply and then continue running toward the village. This isn’t a simple act of kindness though. If it was me from a few months ago, I might’ve ignored this event. No reason to risk my life for a peasant village I don’t know. The old habits I grew up with at the academy always told me to stay out of unrelated conflict. The experience at Lapithos showed me that this was the wrong approach. Even though I had bad luck, the fact that I hid my identity ended up backfiring. They were able to do whatever they wanted without raising any eyebrows.
Especially after I broke out of prison, those rotten nobles now have a legitimate reason to place a bounty on me. I am a fugitive, a wanted criminal. Unless the situation is changed, I won’t even be able to buy information anymore. The Royal Council has an enormous amount of power. I don’t know how far their connections reach. Every other country might try to capture and sell me to them. Bounty hunters will chase me and living in a civilized society will be impossible.
This situation is unacceptable. I refuse to hide like a cornered animal. I will face my enemies head-on and win. For that to happen, it’s necessary to make some connections of my own. I need people who will vouch for me no matter what kind of bribe or threat they are faced with. One possibility is making it so that Zamora kingdom will refuse to hand me over. I am fairly certain that the king of Zamora has enough pride and power that he will not meekly comply with the Councillors. Raising an army of my own might be too much to ask, but he may help once he hears that my father, King Leo, was assassinated. I should meet with him face-to-face. Until then, I will make a name for myself so that my words carry more weight. My enemies will learn to fear the name Rigel Artemia.