Herbivores, the lot of them. Not a single canine tooth in the bunch. Just broad flat molars chewing on supple, easy to reach leaves. One or two undoubtedly requiring thick glasses when outside this place and, that one there, potentially suffering from anemia. Their expressions mild, and mildly polite, conveying inoffensive greeting. Even Vesper receiving only curious glances. One of them, however, holding a carefully schooled, neutral expression. My neighbor, Stacy, from next door in apartment three oh one. Unexpected, seeing her here. An entire group of herbivores – almost certainly – but with Stacy as any indication, not rabbits. Instead, something larger and more stubborn.
“You're back,” says my master. My new master. “Excellent timing, we only started a few minutes ago. Grab a chair and then please introduce yourself to the rest of the group. And then we'll get back to it.”
Fifteen people around a few circular tables that had been pushed close together, with every single one in ordinary, everyday clothing. Plain trousers and shirts for the six men. Longer skirts, full dresses or plain pants for the women. The group overall conservative, modest and serious. Putting my pack on the floor and draping my cloak on a chair. My armor and weapons completely visible now, my primary knife in its sheath on my torso, the hatchet in its belt loop, and the backup knife in its sheath on my other hip, but their eyes betraying no overt concern.
“My name is Lucy. It's very nice to meet you all.” Murmurs of greeting from the group. “I had brought coffee and breakfast, but I didn't expect such a large gathering.” Getting the filled canteen from my pack as well as the small bag of food. Murmurs of not a concern and don't worry about it. Copy. Making two canteens. “Here's a bit more if anyone would like some.” A touch of muted surprise. Stacy not showing any surprise, at all.
“So a bit about myself. I'm usually an early riser. I prefer coffee over tea, without milk or sugar. I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but I do indulge from time to time.” Polite smiles. “As far as a weapon, if I had my choice, I'd use the knife every time if I could.” My knife's red glow appearing and their smiles getting strained. “It's nice to have on hand for everyday tasks, and very quick to draw for surprise attacks.” Polite smiles gone. The group glancing at each other. “I don't know what line of work you're all in, but I'd still recommend investing in a higher quality one, regardless. That said, this hatchet has really been growing on me. It's very satisfying to use.” Resheathing the knife and patting the hatchet. The glances from the group turning slightly more concerned. My master's welcoming smile still on his face, and still genuine. “I was out at Swan Lake a couple days ago for some hunting. If you haven't been I'd also recommend visiting it some day, and not even for hunting. There's this cozy little town on the north side of the lake.” Turning to my master. “Master, do you mind if I make a quick pitch.”
“The floor is yours,” he says.
“Okay.” Turning back to the no longer very welcoming group. “Obviously none of you are particularly keen on fighting - or maybe I'm wrong?” No one correcting me. “I've been doing some work that only we can do. Do you mind?” Snatching the hardcover book in front of the woman sitting next to me. No objection being offered. She seems more concerned with Vesper, who is now staring in her direction. Drawing the Disjunction rune. “It looks like this, or thereabouts. You're all familiar with it, right?”
Dang, this is tough crowd. One raising his hand.
“Yes?”
“Someone came by a couple cycles ago and spoke with us about this,” he says. “I can't say I'm very interested, but now that you're here I want to ask a question. I figure I'll get a more honest answer from you. Is this some kind of multi level marketing scheme?”
“No, absolutely nothing of the sort. This is a real opportunity.”
Skeptical looks and some shaking of heads. Trying not to grit my teeth.
“I assume you're all duplicating gold coins, or something of approximate value.” Shrugs and nods of assent. “That's about eighteen gold a month. Easy living.” Pulling out a disjuncted stone that had gotten lost in the bottom of my pack. “A day and half getting over and coming back from Swan Lake, me and another person, I'm estimating about fifty gold, just the stones.” Flicking the stone in the air and catching it. One or two of them looking thoughtful. “I've been selling these up at Ink's Charms way north of here by House Mink. The woman who runs the place uses them to help her make magic items. Now, I'm not saying you need do this all the time, or that you to go all the way out to Swan Lake to get them, but if you're interested in some extra income, the opportunity is there. That's all I'm saying.” Looking around the group. “I appreciate your time and, again, very nice to meet you all.” Taking my seat.
***
“Thank you all very much,” says my master. “I look forward to our discussion next cycle.”
The meeting had taken maybe an hour and a half, approximately ten minutes of which had been spent discussing magic. The other members of the group starting to gather their belongings. Stacy talking to the woman next to her, glancing over at me, making eye contact, but then looking away. Picking up their bags, and both of them walking around the other side of the tables. Leaving my chair to get in their path.
“Stacy, I'm glad I ran into you. I want to thank you for helping with my apartment. I very much like how it turned out.”
“You know her?” says the woman, giving me the most cursory of glances before looking at Stacy.
“She recently moved into my building,” says Stacy, and then, to me, in a polite tone. “You're quite welcome. Let me know if we can help with anything else.”
“I will.” Letting them pass. The other woman not saying another word.
Going back to my seat and waiting for them all to leave. The rest filing out in ones and twos. A couple of the men giving me nods in farewell. None of the women. All gone, leaving me alone with my new master.
“So what did you think of your first formal class?” The man exuding patience.
“It was different than what I thought. They're different than what I thought.”
“Oh, in what way?”
“The discussion, maybe not so much. I didn't expect nearly the entire time to be spent discussing some book you've all been reading, but I suppose that makes sense, in a way. But as far as them, I don't know, I was expecting hopeless and pathetic. Eager to please. The highest level Runemage before I came along was 13. What else should I have expected? But they're not that - not at all - and they're not exactly the friendliest bunch. All I got from them was some curiosity at my particular line of work, and more than a little contempt.”
“I'm sure that contempt is mutual,” he says. Shrugging at him. Certainly not disagreeing. “You're very much like each other in a number of ways,” he continues to say. “If it's not too much of a bother, I'd really appreciate it if you could make it a habit to come to more of these. I think you all have a lot to learn from each other.”
“Them more than me, I'd imagine.”
“Well, there are more of them,” he smiles, “so certainly in the aggregate.”
“Master, if you want me to, I will. I'll try my best not to kill any of them, but no promises. I don't appreciate the way that some of them were looking at me.”
“I wouldn't dream of demanding a promise like that, but please try not to have that sort of confrontation in here, or I will be forced to put a stop to it.” The man glancing at the girl who'd come back and had been listening to our conversation. “Abigail, is something on your mind?”
“You're fine with her killing us?” she says, glancing back and forth between us. Giving me that familiar look. Trace amounts of disgust and aversion.
“Abigail,” says my master, with his impossible patience, “I am not fine with it, but I don't want to endorse one of my students over another. Furthermore, forbidding her from doing so may not actually afford you any protection. It's your responsibility to try and get along.”
“Yes, master,” she says, reflexively, her expression going blank at the unexpected rebuke. Turning and looking at me. “I do have a question for you, um, miss-”
“Lucy.” Standing up and coming over to her, putting out my hand. Considering for a moment, then shaking.
“Lucy,” she says. “You seem to know about,” gesturing at me, “and I was wondering if you could give me some advice.”
“Of course.”
“I came in a couple months back. I was completely lost and didn't find this place until several weeks in. All I want is to hit level 8 and be done with this...” searching for the appropriate word with her hands, but then dropping her search. “Anyway, that's my goal right now. I know you were trying to get us to go out and, whatever, but I don't want anything to do with that.” My obvious contempt only making her more vehement. “I'm sorry, but I don't. No offense intended to you, but it's not for me.”
“Go to the town hall and deliver packages.”
“That's what I've been doing, but they won't give me any more. They say I'm too experienced.” Her hands briefly clenching her dark skirt before releasing and smoothing the fabric. Her mouth remaining creased.
“In that case, do you want the fastest way? It's not going to be very pleasant, but it is the fastest.”
“Yes,” she says, after a brief hesitation.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Get a pair of waterproof boots and go into the sewers. The top level. Using this,” using the shield to grab a nearby book, the sudden flash of sound and light causing only a minor start from her, “you can crush the rats to death. Do that until you're sick of it. Past sick of it.”
“That's not...”
“It's the fastest. The sewers aren't popular, they're right here in town, and there's tons of rats. It's also great practice. I mean, this thing is so useful. I couldn't imagine not trying to use it to it's full potential.”
“Okay.” Not at all pleased. “I'll try that. Thank you. Master, I'll see you next cycle.”
“Best of luck, Abigail,” he says.
“Oh, take this as well.” Removing my backup knife and sheath and holding it out to her.
“I couldn't possibly.” Perhaps trying to pretend her refusal is out of consideration, but holding up her hands to ward me away.
“I'm not giving you a choice. Someone gave me this knife my first day in, and now I'm giving it to you. I've been meaning to upgrade it, anyway.”
Heading back to my chair as she leaves. Sitting down and rolling my back. Staring at the ceiling.
“Did I really say these people aren't hopeless?”
“Everyone has to start somewhere,” my master replies. Silence for a few moments. Vesper sitting up and putting his head in my lap to demand attention. “Now, why did you really come here today?”
Changing my attention from the library ceiling to his calm expression. Not calm, his eyes positively dancing.
“One primary reason, but now that I'm here I want to ask you about a couple others. First, this one.” Drawing the series of runes for Animate on the table.
“What about it?” Cocking his head to the side.
“I'm not very good with it.”
“So? That's expected. Practice.”
“I have been, but I'm not making much headway. The spell also says that I can eventually make a permanent golem using it, which is all fine and well, but what kind of material would I even use to do that?”
“There are any number of choices, but preferably something sturdier.”
“And flexible, too, I'd think.”
“I don't understand,” he says, after a moment.
“Neither do I.”
“Right.” The man standing up and drawing on his own chair seat. “Come over here. I'll give you a demonstration of the spell in use. Maybe you'll see something that you're missing.” Getting out of my chair and going over to his side of the table with Vesper following. With no further gesture or movement his chair suddenly taking on a life of its own. The wood contorting, but not breaking, and starting to dance about. The chair hopping from side to side, walking in a small circle and then spinning on one leg before settling back to rest. Vesper regarding the now unmoving chair with more than a little suspicion. “The spell gives the object both a certain flexibility and provides a binding quality by anchoring everything at the rune structure. Let me see you use it.”
Drawing on a nearby chair. Activating it. Using my hand to try and mimic a puppeteer and attempting to move the legs of the chair. Instead of doing a quick two step, the chair doing a quick no step. The wood splintering and two of the legs snapping off. The chair falling over sideways, causing my master to laugh.
“Okay,” he says, “that's funny and all, but now try to move it around.”
“I did. That's what happened.” Pointing at the chair.
“Is that really...?” Momentarily at a loss, but then bringing his hand up to his chin. “I apologize, you're the first student I've had to ever use that spell. Maybe this kind of difficulty shouldn't be unexpected - not that your way of doing things doesn't have its own uses.” His chair legs pulling themselves in, the back contorting, and the chair ripping itself into multiple pieces, leaving a twisted pile of kindling on the floor. “My only advice is to continue practicing with it. And there's no need to use your hands to force it to move – in actuality, that may prove counterproductive – you should break that before it becomes a habit.”
“It's entirely a me problem, then?”
“Without a doubt. What are you using the spell for now?”
“A length of chain.”
“That's a good choice, especially given your issue. Great strength to weight ratio. Even when you do end up figuring it out you may want to have that as an option. But, like I said, practice.”
“Yes, master. Now, a quick question before getting to my main issue. Engrave.”
“You've gotten so far, already?”
“I'll have it in a few cycles.”
“A few cycles? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you really don't waste time. However, I think you should focus on mastering your current repertoire before worrying about things still coming down the road.”
“I don't have time to waste, my present situation is already falling apart. Sooner or later everyone is going to know who I am, and I'm going to need to be as ready for that as I can when it happens.”
“You could try diplomacy with them.” His remark offhand, flippant, and punctuated with his now infuriatingly patient smile.
“I'm planning on it, but some people can't be reasoned with.”
“Oh? People like you, I'm guessing.” Less flippant and more accusatory.
“Naturally. When dealing with people like me diplomacy is only possible when both sides know the alternative to peace is worse.”
“That is, I suppose, the way of the world,” he mutters to himself. “Something I've always wanted to ask, is the world you come from better or worse than our world?”
“In general? Probably worse. But something I've learned, no matter what world we happen to be in, someone is always going to be on the top and someone is always going to be on the bottom. In my experience, much better to be on top.”
“Worse?” The man extremely disappointed at the prospect. “I see. I suspected as much, in any case. Very well, what's your question?”
“It says Engrave requires a great deal of preparation. What does that mean? What's the process like?”
“It requires...” My master pausing and ruefully shaking his head. “Power. A great deal of power. But from your time in the field I imagine you've managed to collect quite a number of those stones to help provide fuel for the process.”
“I've been selling those.”
“All of them?”
“Why wouldn't I? You never told me what those were for.”
“I never-” he splutters, “you never asked!”
“You never told me.”
“How could I? You haven't been coming to class.” Silently cursing myself. He's not wrong. “Those stones are condensed energy that we use to assist our work, both recharging and enchanting items. Someone like Lady Inkathius uses them for similar reasons.” Holding up his palm. “Please understand, I'm not saying you made a mistake in choosing to sell them to her.”
“Okay, well, now that I know, I'll start setting some aside for myself. As for my other question.”
“Your other question?”
“Erase.”
“Ah, yes. I had prepared a speech in my head about this, years ago, in anticipation for when a student came to me about it. It's full of platitudes about being careful, and how the spell is very dangerous. I don't think it's going to have its intended effect on you.”
“If you had it prepared for that long, I'd like to hear it, anyway.”
“I appreciate that. I'll keep it short.” The man starting to pace back and forth as he talks. “The first thing to understand is that we only have a sort of limited control on how it operates. Usually we infuse energy for a specific, desired purpose. To create or reshape. Disjunction, for example, uses part of an objects energy in order to contain the rest. It's not destruction, so much as a reconfiguration.
“Erase, on the other hand, doesn't reconfigure or move energy. Well, it does, in a way, in order to induce the process, but the actual effect that results is nothing of the sort. The spell unmakes reality, or rather, it begins the process that leads to the unmaking of reality. It is an incredibly dangerous, potentially volatile spell.
“The reason there's no symbol is because it is, in all fact, nothingness.” Waving his hand. “A sort of controlled, induced nothingness. It's a beautifully hideous and extraordinarily painful process. The closest approximation that you've likely seen is the Disintegrate spell, but the two couldn't be more dissimilar. Disintegrate is actually an application of incredibly intense heat. Erase is closer to the opposite, a void that leaves behind bitter cold. It's the antithesis of matter, of life, of existence. Knowing all that, I assume you're even more eager to learn it.”
“If there was something- ” No, don't get too far ahead. “If there was something that shouldn't be there-” Being set up for disappointment. “Could this be used to get rid of it?”
“In all likelihood. Removal is precisely the spell's purpose.”
“I have to learn it. I have to know. I have to try.”
“Are you planning on using this against living people?” Now filled with doubt and trepidation due to my insistence.
“There are more than a few mistakes walking around that deserve to be erased.” Hesitation on his face multiplying, remembering once again with a sudden sharp clarity who exactly he is speaking with. “But before dealing with them, I have to do something else, much more important than some petty grudge. Master, I need to know. This is the only tool I haven't tried. I have to see if it works. Please, it's incredibly important.” Regret now blooming, backing him into a corner.
“Please try not to-” his obvious regret multiplying with each word, “please try not to use this for insufficient reasons.” Letting out a huge sigh and starting to draw on the table. “The easiest starting point - although it isn't necessarily necessary - is to start with a circle. It represents wholeness of being. Completeness. Make the edges thick. You have to start with the intact shape first and then remove chunks in various places. Mutilate it. Desecrate it. Leave the edges rough and allow for split ends. It's not even about removing more, it's about creating ugliness and dissonance. Forcing something once whole and beautiful to cry out spiritually and emotionally for its own destruction. To want to be removed, to demand it.” Bringing a hand up to his own face to wipe away the sudden tears. “Sometimes things become so perverted and corrupt that doing this is a mercy. But, I beg you, please only use this against living beings as a last resort.”
The circle he'd drawn had been left with jagged missing patches and thorny, cancerous growths. Scars from denying it's own form, and function, and essence, leaving the universe with little choice but to put it out of it's misery in order to save it from itself - perhaps even more importantly, to stop the cancer from spreading. The removal quieting it's internal strife, illness and delusion, and allowing for a sort of catharsis. The leftover gap of sorrow and self hate filling with relief, and leaving everything, ultimately, better off for the excision.
“Master.” Trying to come up with the words to assuage his obvious guilt, while also trying not to lie. “I swear I'll only use this when it's absolutely justified.”
“Thank you. Are you going to be here next cycle?”
“Because you asked me to, I will.”
“In that case,” he says, trying to muster a smile but failing, “here's a copy of the book for you to read. Try and get along with them. A little respect goes a long way, in both directions, I acknowledge, but as their senior it's your responsibility to reach out first.”
“I will. I promise.”