“What in King Thrumgar’s beard do ye think yer doin?” Thavim’s shouts cut through the thick blanket of my nap and I crack my eyes open to peek at him. “Where’s tha’ elf Faelynn? An’ how’d ye get in my home?”
I yawn and stretch before answering, “Faelynn and I had a difference of opinions so I left.” I replied and began to wipe the sleep out of my eyes. Once they were open I was treated to a fantastic sight: Thavim at a loss for words.
After more than a few brief moments of silence he replied, “Ye mean t’ tell me that ye came here on yer own?”
“Yes,” I replied. Maybe I’m finally starting to understand why my father is always so terse - this is kinda fun.
“Alrigh, lad. I’ll bite. What was this disagreemen’ abou’?” he asks as he busies himself in the kitchen.
“She’s of the opinion that torture is a valuable teaching tool. I disagree.”
A dark look cross Thavim’s face as he sets two plates of meat and two mugs at the table and gestures for me to join him. “Oy, lad, tha’s not sommat t’ joke abou’.”
I went and sat at the table and told the entire story over food up to the point where I walked out.
“This meat is fantastic, Thavim, thank you. Had giant badger last night and I think I cooked it too long. Was scared of it being harmful. It didn’t taste bad, but was definitely not good.”
Thavim looked visibly angry, all joviality gone from his voice as he asks, “How long ago was this lad?”
“Oh, this happened last night,” I reply with a nearly full mouth and try to take a swig from whatever is in the mug.
“What d’ye mean last nigh’? Tha’s a three day trip!”
“Ah, about that – could we maybe keep how I got back here secret? As well as the fact that I’m back since there’s still that cult after me?”
He mulls it over for a moment, “Aye, that yer back bein’ kept secret shoul’ be fairly easy. I’ve had several others o’er after ye left t’ try an’ find th’ mole, as it were. All of ‘em seen tha’ yer no longer stayin’ here.”
“Any luck with finding the mole, then?”
“Shite all.”
“Unfortunate,” and after a moment, “so what’s the plan now?”
“Now? I’ve not go' a plan now,” Thavim replies a little bitterly. “I gave my word t’ have ye trained t’ yer father an’ he sealed th’ deal with a transaction. I’ll not go back on my word fer any amount o’ gold.”
“Would the tutors from before still work? Though I never did meet the enchanting tutor. Oh, and is there anyone that could teach me elven while we’re at it? I started learning it while I was there and it feels like a waste to not continue it.”
“Thasdrel said he wouldn’t return. Ellibelle can still work as yer language tutor, tha’ woman knows more languages than I know type o’ metal,” he pauses, “I suspect Kirsat is th’ mole. Got no way t’ prove it, though.”
“Can’t you teach me enchanting? Don’t you have so many books on it because you know it too?”
“Aye, though I’ve always though’ myself a shite teacher,” he grumbles tugging on his beard, “students don’t seem t’ be able t’ listen. But if tha’ happens with all o’ th’ students, then it’s probably the fault o’ th’ teacher.”
I stop and consider things for a minute. He likely wouldn’t be able to teach me to do what he does anyway. I just need the foundation on how things are done and why before I start pursuing my own methods.
“You have a pretty good collection of books on enchanting, right?” I ask getting up from the table and walking toward the bookshelves.
“Aye, some o’ the best in th’ city. A few maybe best in th’ kingdom!”
“Any of these beginner level?”
He strokes his beard and thinks, “A few, yes. Not many.”
“How about we keep the language tutor and I self teach enchanting. If I get stuck or get to a portion that’s confusing I’ll ask you what to do. And if we don’t see any results in a few weeks time, then we can look into finding a new enchanting tutor.”
Thavim gives a toothy grin, “Lad, if you did’n’ outright destroy my expectations each an’ every time I talk t’ ye, I’d swear up an’ down tha’ ye were mad! I’ve never heard o’ someone teachin’ themselves enchantin’ before!”
I cocked an eyebrow at him, “Then who taught the first enchanter?”
Thavim chuckles and shakes his head.
“Oh, and before we forget again, can we finally get me some gear? Sleeping in the rain last night without a pack or cloak was pretty dismal.”
----------------------------------------
“I got ye that clay ye been askin’ me ‘bout,” Thavim announced as he came through the front door.
“Fantastic! I’ve been waiting for this!” I shout as I run up to him waiting for him to hand it over.
“What ye goin’ t’ use it fer, anyways?” he asks as he hands over the parchment wrapped block.
“Why, for enchanting of course!”
“Ye do know that if the enchant gets deformed it breaks?”
“I do! That’s why I wanted the clay!”
“An’ why's tha, lad’?”
“Faelynn mentioned that humans are pretty bad at enchanting, like only once in four succeed. What if that failure rate is simply from a lack of practice?” I ask as I start rolling a bit of clay into a small ball. “That human village I came from is dirt poor. We, on several different occasions, had nothing for dinner but wild onion soup.”
“How could they afford to frivolously practice? Every waking moment was spent in the pursuit of survival. Also how long are dwarves lives in relation to humans? And what about elves lives? In terms of experience, humans remain children their entire lives by comparison,” I set down the perfect clay ball and begin making the next one. “There can even be an argument made that if humans are terrible, either in practice or in action, then shouldn’t it have been on the elder races to set them straight? That’s a bit of a straw man’s argument since I’d not expect a neighbor to raise someone elses kids, but it’s still a valid point to make that the kids in question essentially don’t have parents and are being punished for it,” I finish another clay ball.
“I’ve a suspicion that Faelynn doesn’t count the failures of her kin who are still considered children but had very clearly forgotten I was a child when she chose torture.”
“Tha’ mae’ be, lad. I’ll not stop ye but just so ye know, from a dwarven perspective all enchantments are considered near as sacred, treasured an’ passed down as such.”
“Not meaning to be rude, but that seems a little silly to me. I’m going to try out some really weird combinations here and I have no idea who would enjoy a family heirloom being a “Greatshield of Detect Cheese Wheel.”
“Haaaahahaha,” Thavim guffaws at that, “Aye lad, I can see yer point now. It also says a bit ‘bout dwarven practices stiflin’ ingenuity.”
I have six clay balls sitting in front of me. “Heavy topics aside for a bit, you want to watch the first of my tests?”
“Yer gonna try an’ enchant righ’ here?” Thavim sounds a bit shocked.
“Yep! No smithing required for clay that you don’t intend to cook!”
He scratches his head a moment and appears to do a mental shrug, “Aye, I’ll have a watch.”
I grab the first clay ball. Okay, nothing terribly complicated. All the texts say I need a circle of some sort, so I’ll imagine one of those. This circle should only intake the users mana and make the air molecules surrounding the clay more excited. Should have the effect of making the user warmer.
Once I have all this decided, I push mana into the clay. At first it appears that nothing happens so I try pushing more mana into it using that barn door theory. Slowly a faint circle finally appears. Rather than continuing to make the circle more prominent I stop here. It has technically worked. Now to test it.
I stop feeding mana into the clay and carefully set the ball down. “Thavim, can you confirm that it’s enchanted?”
He gingerly touches the clay, and says his gravel-chant. The white circle gives a faint almost imperceptible glow. “Aye. It be weak, but enchanted. This is actually a fantastic outcome f’r a first attempt,” he says and retracts his finger.
I place my own finger on it and push mana into it with no visualization and it does just as I imagined, warming the air around it. Success!
“Nice!” I take a brief moment to celebrate before asking, “What happens to an object if the enchantment on it breaks?”
“Magic should just stop workin’,” he replies sounding unsure of himself.
“Never had it happen?” I ask.
“Aye. If you properly take care o’ yer gear, it shouldn’ happen at’all,” he replies.
I ponder a moment, “Do you have something long that you don’t mind getting ruined? A terribly made staff or spear maybe?”
He leaves the room for a few and comes back with a wooden staff that looks near rotted through from water damage. “I cannae work in wood anyway.”
I take the staff from him and back as far away from the enchanted clay ball as possible. I feed an absolutely enormous amount of mana into it and the entire room begins to heat up as a light breeze is pushed around. Considering how weak and inefficient that enchant was, this is quite the feat in and of itself. While still channeling this large amount of mana I squish the clay ball. The staff where it squished the clay ball shattered into splinters as a loud crack reverberated off the walls. The only visible damage seems to have been done to the staff, fortunately.
“Well, that’s actually a couple questions answered.”
“Aye. T’ think such an explosive reaction from just breakin’ the enchant,” Thavims eyes seem larger than normal. Maybe he’s just now realizing one of the hazards he’s faced with enchanting all these years.
“The energy from the spell had to dissipate somewhere. I wanted to find out both where and how it happened. Especially if I’m going to be working with clay regularly. Gotta take care not to damage them while activated,” I stew on this for a moment.
“Okay, time for the next test!”
“Oi, y’mean yer not done fer the day after that?”
“Oh, not by a long shot. I’ve still several tests to conduct. I first need to confirm the information I’ve received from the books. Then I’ll need to go about challenging that information. For instance, why a circle? I saw Faelynn’s pendant – it wasn’t a circle but rather an intricate circular pattern that she said used more mana but made it more powerful. So variety does in fact change how the spell operates,” I ramble on with my findings and theories while I set up three clay balls side by side.
“An’ wha’s th’ test this time lad?”
“Mass production. Can I make multiples of that last enchant all at once? That enchant wasn’t strong, or efficient. What it was was simple. That should aid me in attempting to make multiples of it at the same time.”
I start gathering the visualization together but this time I try to imagine it as all three and then push the mana into them. As expected, three times the number of enchants requires three times the amount of mana but it finally works.
I briefly test the enchant on each of them and each of them work as expected.
“Lad, I feel like ye could turn th’ whole dwarven smithin’ industry on its head.”
“Maybe, but maybe not. My magic doesn’t work like dwarves, right? I’m not trying to revolutionize it or anything, I’m just trying to find out which portions work for me,” I say as I pick back up the now broken staff and back away from the clay ball and squish one without having activated it.
The ball unceremoniously squishes. No explosion, no fanfare, no reaction. I move in closer to check on the enchant in the clay and find it’s completely vanished. No trace of it at all. Interesting. This could potentially make for an untraceable trap of sorts. Where if a condition is not met, the item in question deforms itself thereby destroying the enchant? Hmm...too many issues with that idea. I’ll shelf it for now.
“An’ tha’ was?” Thavim asks.
“Oh, we saw what happened with the enchant powered and destroyed, but not what happened when it was destroyed while not powered. Need to proceed slowly if I’m to discover the dangerous bits like it exploding before trying something similar while it’s in my hand.”
I squish one of the still enchanted balls in my hand while looking at him to demonstrate my point. He visibly flinches as I do so and I’m not certain if it’s because he had just watched one explode or if he still considered these enchants sacred. I squish the third one and start re-rolling them back into balls.
Next item to be addressed is efficiency. The previous version used all the mana it received immediately as it came in. While that guaranteed a reaction, it also meant an inconsistent output and runaway input costs. Terribly inefficient in terms of cost/benefit. What if I can put in a loop? In fact, let’s start with a while loop – actually no.
“Hey, is there somewhere private we can go to test potentially dangerous enchants?”
“Is wha’ ye been doin’ not considered dangerous?”
“Most of it was within my expectations. This next portion though...I have no idea how it’ll turn out. Could be the same as before where it just mildly explodes, could fizzle out, or could take out a very large area. I’m not sure of what will happen but if I were to bet, it would be on a larger explosion. Much larger than what we saw with the staff.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Hold off on tha’ if ye please, Alvis. I’ll find us a secluded place outside the city.”
“Hmm. Yes, that’s probably safest. I suppose I could test some other things instead.” After a brief pause, “Hey, can we get me a bow and some arrows? I have a few other ideas.”
Thavin looks deep in thought, “Mmmmm, we mae be hard pressed t’ find a bow here in Saoghal Feòir. Not much o’ wood ‘round f’r th’ gatherin’.”
“Oh, that reminds me! On my way back in the city I saw a group of humans, all armed. They spoke with the guards and were let in through the gate without someone having to come vouch for them. How does that work?”
“Ah, monster hunters most like. They have a guild hall here in th’ city an’ have their own identification so they can get through the gate withou’ too much hassle. They tend t’ keep the roads safe f’r visitors an’ dwarves alike, so it works best t’ give a little leeway in terms o’ security.”
“Makes sense. Anyway, one of them had a bow. Where do you think he gets it repaired or replaced?”
“Tha--” he stops himself mid thought, “well, I don’t know tha’,” he replies seeming genuinely surprised. “There’s a bit o’ stigma around workin’ with them hunters.”
“Are dwarves not among them?”
“Aye, not many.”
“Do dwarves not like the work? I imagine any job that can provide a roof and a meal would be sought after.”
“Some don’t like bein’ out in the open of th’ outside, some are bad at fightin’, and some just plain don’ like other races.”
“Think I might head to that hunters guild tomorrow after language.”
“I dunno if they’ll consider ye old ‘nough te give ye work,” Thavim replies.
“Probably not, but they may be willing to help out a child that’s looking to take up archery,” I reply with a grin.
He gives me a good bit of side-eye before grumbling, “Yer th’ least childlike child I’ve ever encountered.”
----------------------------------------
The trip to the guild went surprisingly smooth. I can actually start to read the signs now which helped a lot in getting there and, not to mention, figuring out which building was the guild. These stone-chiseled houses are very much like suburban cookie cutter houses. Almost every one of them identical with little variation.
The sign out front in dwarvish reads, ‘Monster Hunters Guild.’ Oh man, this is starting to feel like an actual RPG! I fully expected to see a bar scene once I walked through the front double-doors with everyone crowing around a bulletin board listing off all of the available monsters to kill for money, but I guess that's simply too much to ask for.
Instead, what I find is a communal butcher shop. There’s a multitude of tables like in a cafeteria, but instead of eating each table is covered with a different monster corpse and being attended by a craftsman with a knife.
I look around for a reception desk and it looks like there’s one all the way at the back of the room and begin heading my way there. I had thought that someone would raise a fuss at a child being in such a place, but maybe at a glance I’m mistaken for a short dwarf.
Once at the desk, I’m greeted by a young human woman that I guess might be in her early twenties, “Hello there. Are you lost?”
“I don’t think so. This is the monster hunters guild, right? I trying to find out where I can go to buy a bow for archery. The people where I live only seem interested in rocks and I kept getting referred to here when I ask,” I tell her.
“I see. Just a moment, please,” she says before disappearing through a door behind the desk. A few seconds later the door opens back up and a different receptionist pops out while the one I had originally talked to taps me on the shoulder, no longer behind the desk.
“Oh!” I exclaim and jump a bit, “You startled me.” There must be a side entrance somewhere nearby though she does seem to move unnaturally silent.
“Most dwarves make weapons sized for themselves and are kind of disinterested in things not made of metal so we have our own little weapon repair shop. And since it is only a repair shop I can’t really guarantee that they’ll have a bow just ready to be sold, though,” she motions for me to follow her.
“The guild can be a rough place for newcomers and honestly I’ll just feel better if I walk you over there myself,” she offers by way of explanation as we head through a door in the back of the facility.
Inside is a hallway with a set of doors propped open on the left side where a decent amount of noise is escaping. This is what I was expecting when I first entered: a tavern bar with many tables seating a variety of rough looking characters eating, drinking, and shouting. No quest board though, that seems a shame.
I turn to my guide as we walk and ask, “What was going on with all the butchers in that first room?”
“Monsters can be sold here for their valuable parts. Some portions are used for alchemy, others for cooking, and usually hides for clothing or armor. And since we got a little tired of guild members dragging bloody corpses all over the building before getting them butchered and traded for, we just decided to turn the first room into that.”
“Oh, that’s very practical. Couldn’t the animals be brought into a side door, though?”
“In any other city, that is exactly what is done. The facade for this building is carved directly into the side of the cave. The door you came through is the only entrance or exit.”
Oh my. So if there’s a fire, then everyone in here will die. I find that disconcerting but decide to keep my concerns to myself. I’m sure they have some system in place for emergencies.
All the way at the back is a counter window with an old man on the other side, his back turned to us as he fiddles with something on the workshop desk on the far side of his room.
“If this man can’t help you, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere,” the receptionist tells me before facing the counter. “Abe, this young man would like your assistance.”
The man finally turns to us, still holding a hole punch and hammer, “What d’you want?”
Grouchy. “I’m looking to get into archery and am trying to find someone that sells bows,” I reply.
“Too small. Don’t have one small or weak enough for you,” he says.
He’s probably thinking about draw strength. “Can I try out the smallest you have?” I have a plan.
Abe pulls out a bow that’s half my height and hands it over the counter. True enough, I don’t have the strength to fully draw it – but this is the part where I cheat. I use telekinesis to draw it and just pretend it’s my arm doing all the work.
“This will work fine,” I declare a little proud of my deception. “How much do I owe you for it?”
Abe throws a quiver of arrows on the counter, “Half the earnings from your first kill,” and turns back around to continue working.
“I only intended to practice. I might not bring in a kill for a couple years yet,” I reply.
“But you will. Half the earnings from your first kill will come to this counter, regardless of who mans it,” he replies no longer bothering to turn around.
Well then. I’ve acquired a bow and arrows, unexpectedly for free. Well, I guess it’s more of a loan. “Thank you, sir!”
“Keep your thanks.” Seems good neighbored, but still grouchy.
A thought occurs to me and I turn to the receptionist that I still don’t know the name of to ask, “Is there a special method of bringing a kill back here? Or does everyone cart giant beasts across the city to turn them in?”
She starts walking back the way we came before answering, “Some people have magic bags that can hold more than they look and make things semi-weightless, but for the most part they either rent a cart or yes, they just carry it the entire way.”
“In the case of the magic bag, wouldn’t that mean that they would have to butcher it before bringing it back?”
“That is what that means, yes. There is a price to be paid for convenience after all.”
“That makes sense. Is there somewhere I could go to learn how to butcher things? Or will I just have to eat the costs of someone else butchering something--”
“Well would you look at that,” shouts a bald man at a table of rough looking hunters. “I didn’t know Analise put out, let alone had a son!” The members of the table erupted into laughter, the smell of booze on them wafting over to us.
“Why don’t you take a seat, baby,” the bald man says as he gets up from the table. I glance at the receptionist, (Analise, was it?) to see what she intends to do. She doesn’t look at all interested but otherwise doesn’t respond and keeps walking.
The bald man reaches out and grabs her wrist, or at least I thought he did. In the blink of an eye the bald man is face down on the floor and Analise has a foot on the back of his shoulder with his wrist in her hand and a dagger blade between his fingers.
“I didn’t realize your party had too many hands. Don’t worry, the guild will gladly aid you in the parting of one,” she says in a sickly sweet voice.
Holy shit. Note to self: Do not fuck with Analise.
The other members at the table start to get up, clearly angry at the unexpected turn of events.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I’ve never killed a human before and these assholes are going to force me? I unsling my bow and pull out an arrow as fast as I could, but am fortunately not needed.
Three separate tables had got up and rushed over. Not to help the man on the floor, but to stop the table of ruffians. Although from the few snippets of shouting I could discern, it sounds like the three other tables aren’t actually trying to stop the ruffians table but to save them from Analise.
I sling my bow and look away as Analise cuts a finger off the man on the floor and kicks him in the stomach before resuming her walk back to the receptionist desk. The shouting between the tables stops upon hearing the mans screams and hushed whispers crop up upon hearing his whimpers. After a few steps she seems to remember me, turns slightly and gestures for me to catch up, which I hurriedly do.
As I pass the man whimpering on the floor, I hear someone in the group mutter, “Didn’t we tell you not to fuck with her? The only reason the man on the floor is still alive is cause there’s a child here.”
I guess there are still benefits to this body. I jog a little to catch up to her. After we exit into the hallway I ask, “Does this happen a lot?”
“Not anymore,” she replies but doesn’t elaborate and takes out a handkerchief and attempts to clean her hands with it. I’m curious but maybe she doesn’t elaborate because it was traumatizing. Or maybe because I’m a child.
“Thank you for your help today. I’m not sure what would have happened without your presence,” I try to respond with as much gratitude and diplomacy as I can muster. If I’m honest, I think I might be a little scared of her. She just casually countered an assault and cut off the dudes finger as punishment.
She looks at me and let’s out a long sigh. She stops in the hallway and squats to look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” she says. I guess I even look scared. “My sister also used to work as a receptionist here,” she pauses and looks up at the ceiling, “one day, a group very much like that one did some very bad things to her,” another pause, “and she killed herself a week later.”
Whoa, this is a lot of heavy stuff to drop on a seven year old. Maybe I don’t carry myself like a seven year old? Seven winter old. Or maybe this world is just that much more brutal.
“How come you still work here, then?”
“For you. Or for the other receptionist. Or for anyone else that walks through that door that just wants to do honest business. My pa is the guild master, after all.”
“Am I too young to admit that I have a crush on you?” I ask, awed by her virtue.
Analise chuckles and wipes a tear from her eye. “Come back in a decade and we’ll talk.”
“In the meantime, if I need to form a party, would you be willing to join? I don’t think I’ve seen anyone take down someone else that fast!”
Another chuckle as she gets up and straightens out her clothing, “Don’t you think you’re a little young for this line of work?”
“Maybe, but I like to think I’m a quick study!”
“If you’re a quick study, then I’d wager you should be doing just that – studying,” I pout a little for show, “I’ve seen lots of young people become regulars around here only to suddenly stop showing up. I tell myself that they just moved to another city, but deep down I know. This is not a safe business. If you have other options, you should pursue those.”
She turns and starts walking down the hallway back to the reception desk and I follow.
“So is that a ‘no’ on the party invite?”
She laughs, “I’ll consider it.”