“It’s creepy,” Nix told his friends, pointing at me, with a grin on my face, “He’s never this gleeful. Suspicious, I tell you,” Nix described me.

I was busy playing with the younger children, showing them little tricks that--on their own, were quite inconspicuous--but were really the result of magic.

“There’s a marble in my hand, isn’t there?” I asked the children, who nodded eagerly, “What happens if I cover it with my hands?”

“It’ll still be there,” Nix, who had barged into my little game with the kids, interrupted.

“Don’t be so sure,” I said, lifting my hand off the hand that should have been holding the marble, “It’s empty.”

“Don’t lie,” Nix said dismissively, only then looking down at my hands, “What? There was no motion at all! There’s nowhere you could have hidden that marble!” Nix--an older child--was the only person here who understood the impossibility of the act just now. To anyone else, it was just a parlor trick.

The marble was never in my hands. That was the trick.

It was easy to make something that didn’t exist disappear.

“A master magician, aren’t I?” I said, looking at Nix smugly.

Nix, refusing to acknowledge me, responded, “More like a con artist.”

“Sure,” I said, turning my attention back to the children. Nix walked off.

***

I was a man named Alaric Thundercry.

Fueled only by a vague desire to see something worth replicating with my spell-casting, I wandered the lands.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

There was no inspiration within the cities. As a water mage myself, I couldn’t help but think that the common and standard jet of water being propelled toward enemies was just simply quite primitive.

If something is used to be practical it has no meaning other than it’s use. True beauty wasn’t practical… that’s what made it unique.

“I might see something worth seeing at the valley of dragons--though that place is desolate and barren in the modern era,” I muttered, looking at a map.

I shook my head.

“Anyhow,” whatever the case may be, “I should stop by this village and restock.”

I didn’t know that fate had played a trick on me.

That inspiration… I would find it at that very village.

***

Adrian looked me in the eyes, handing me one of his own needles.

“A gift,” he said, “For all the time you spent assisting me during your little venture as a ‘chore boy’ for the tailor,” he offered the needle.

I accepted it, bowing my head slightly. This much respect was natural.

Adrian had spent a year teaching me his livelihood: tailorship. It would be beyond discourteous to not thank him vehemently while I could.

It would also go against my own principles.

“So,” he told me, “Won’t you consider it?” he repeated, “One last time,” he faced me directly, “Will you become my formal assistant?”

“I’d love to, but I have to refuse,” I said politely, “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

Adrian smiled, “I’d like that.”

“I would too,” I agreed.

“Don’t go around stealing my business, alright?” He joked.

“We both know that’s simply impossible,” I shook my head, “My tailoring is still many levels below yours. I can only sell to the common folk within the village.”

“Isn’t a village only full of common folk?” Nix countered.

“That doesn’t change how much better your tailored cloth is to mine,” I truly meant what I said next, “I’m not qualified to be your competitor.”

“At least you understand that much,” Adrian said, laughing, “Still, your skill is enough to support a living,” he smiled, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It was,” I agreed, smiling at Adrian, “Truly, thank you.”