“Listen,” Gideon said. “I’m sorry, Lord Kelvan, but I fear there’s been some mistake. I planned to sell the castle to pay for my education, not to work for you. I didn’t even realize anyone was here.”

“Sell the castle?” Kelvan said, a look of anger on his face. “You would sell this magnificent estate? You didn’t plan to live as lord of your very own domain, here in the beautiful Frostpeak Mountains? How rude. Well, you’re definitely not inheriting anything now.”

Gideon knew he should hold his tongue. He was talking to a magic mirror and a skeleton who could kill him without a second thought. But he couldn’t hide the anger and disappointment he felt. “Well, what did you expect?” he said. “I need money. I don’t want to be anyone’s minion.”

As soon as he said the words, Gideon reflected on them and felt a sense of hopelessness. I already am, aren’t I? Wasn’t he a “minion” of The EnviroCharm Company? The more he thought about it, the more bitter he felt. All those years of toil, and what did he have to show for it? All he possessed was a tiny apartment and a handful of coins to his name.

Kelvan sighed in disgust, then shook his head. “A poor choice of words on my part, I will admit. You would be a valued servitor.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Is that better? But I won’t keep you here. Return to your country that doesn’t exist if you wish to. I’m sure you’ll have an easier time descending the mountain than you did climbing it.” The mirror lifted off the easel, turned away, and floated out of the room.

Grimsby shook his skull at Gideon in grave disappointment, his jaw rattling, then folded up the easel and followed Kelvan. He didn’t bother to close the door. Gideon sighed and lay back in bed.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I should have asked for water. I’m not sure undead remember what the living need to survive.” He stared at the ceiling, wishing this all had been a bad dream. One he might wake up from soon.

He thought about his status screen. He was familiar with the first five attributes: might, brilliance, fortitude, willpower, and finesse. Simple enough. But he’d never heard of guidance. He knew that based on the rank of someone’s [Appraise] skill, more or less details would be shown. From what Gideon had seen, Lord Kelvan must have a very high rank indeed. The last time Gideon had seen his status screen had been during his job interview at The EnviroCharm Company, and there’d been much fewer details.

A few minutes later, Ondine floated in carrying a tray with a carafe of water, a bowl of what appeared to be steaming chicken soup, and a flask containing a glowing green liquid. She set the tray on a table next to the bed, then nodded to him. “There you are, dear. For obvious reasons, we don’t have much in the way of food here. But Grimsby and I did our best. Compliments of Lord Kelvan.”

Gideon stared at the tray in happiness, then reached for the carafe and greedily drank the water. After swallowing, he sighed in relief. “Thank you,” he said, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you can carry things?”

“Of course I can,” she said, sounding almost offended by the question. “I am a proper phantom and quite capable of interacting with the physical realm.” She pouted. “Though I prefer not to, most of the time.”

“Sorry, Ondine. I didn’t mean to offend you. I really do appreciate it. I know I’d be dead if it weren’t for all of you.”

“There are worse things than being dead,” she said with a smile, then floated to the doorway. But she stopped at the threshold and turned back as if wrestling with something she wished to say. “He’s not so bad, you know. I understand if you’ve got a life you need to return to, but try to let Lord Kelvan down easy, would you? He’s suffered more than you know. He did not choose to be in that mirror.”

She floated off without a sound, as if pushed by a non-existent wind, and the door closed softly behind her.

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Gideon felt a lot better after dinner. Though it had a bitter aftertaste, the potion filled him with renewed vigor, and he felt strength gradually return to his body. Soon his exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he slept again.

He dreamed of Prospera City, toiling away at his station in the EnviroCharm workshop, casting the same [Toughness] enchantment hour after hour, day after day, until his mind reeled. Every moment in his life was the same as the last.

In the dream, he felt his mana flagging, so he took a break. The door slammed closed behind him as he walked outside and stood near the canal behind the workshop. Prospera was located where the Amberdale River met the ocean, and many channels like this one wound their way through the city.

Gideon had found them charming when he first moved there as a teenager. Compared to the country village where he’d been born, Prospera had felt full of promise and opportunity.

Back when his father had been around, he’d often taken Gideon for boat rides through the Old Quarter, past the gates of the Falconridge Academy campus.

Gideon had dreamed of going there for years. He’d envisioned him and his friends learning magic together, helping each other advance. Only later, once he was older, did he understand the cold reality that almost every Falconridge student came from one of the established wizarding families. Most had been tutored in the magical arts since they could talk. The brightest of them had reached silver rank while still teenagers. Only a true genius made it to Falconridge without help.

He had been childhood friends with one such genius, and she had left him behind. For a time he had envied her, but the worst part was that he could not even be angry. He knew she deserved it. She deserved it more than he did.

In the end, he could only be happy for her. By now, Yvette Astorwyn was on her way to becoming a proper wizard. Gideon, on the other hand, would always be a spellmonkey.

There was a small paddleboat near the side of the canal, close enough that Gideon could jump in. Maybe he should stop by the campus, just to see what it looked like these days? Or even to pay Yvette a visit. He hadn’t spoken to her in years. It had become too embarrassing to tell her what he was up to.

His reverie was interrupted by his boss yelling from inside the workshop. “Where the hell is Gideon, that slacker? I’ve got ten more spades that need enchanting!”

Even in his dreams, he could not escape the drudgery of life.

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When he awoke, the room was dark. From the window, the light of the moon was the only illumination. The good news was that physically, he felt much better. Even his leg had stopped hurting. The bad news was that his life was in shambles, and he didn’t know where to go from here.

Someone, perhaps Ondine, had cleared the tray from the bedside table while he’d slept. As he looked around, he saw his backpack leaning against the wall of the room.

Carefully, he got out of bed, putting his weight on his feet gingerly. He went to his pack and dug through it until his hand felt the smooth, crystalline form of his Etheric Communicator.

He returned to bed and held the purple crystal between his hands. Taking a deep breath, he focused his mana and pushed it into the crystal’s lattice structure, hoping he would be able to make a call despite his remote location. He needed to talk to Mr. Dreadmoor, the floor manager at EnviroCharm and his direct supervisor. If he could get a few more days off work until he needed to report for his next shift, he would be able to make it back in time.

With the time difference, he guessed it was early morning back in Prospera. The white sun of Elysion would be rising over the city as it came to life.

The crystal buzzed in his hands a few times, but failed to connect.

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Maybe if he went outside?

He got out of bed and walked to the door, opened it, and emerged into a dimly lit hallway. Sconces along the walls glowed with flickering blue lights. Some kind of soulflame? He couldn’t tell how exactly they were powered—the lighting in Prospera City was much brighter and pure white. He liked these better, in a way. They felt more relaxing.

Walking down the hall, he passed a series of closed wooden doors before reaching a stairwell. The higher he went, the better his chances of getting a connection. If he could get a clear line-of-sight to the village at the base of the mountains, hopefully his Etheric Communicator would be able to reach the network.

The wooden stairs creaked with every step, and the walls were lined with oil paintings. At the top of the stairwell, between two wall sconces, there was a painting that looked like a younger Kelvan Kastorus.

He still had the same red eyes, but they were less sunken, and his skin had no wrinkles. He was wearing dark blue robes, only given to those who had been conferred the rank of Grandmaster. So he must have reached Platinum in his chosen school of magic, if not higher.

As Gideon looked closer, he saw a young woman standing next to Kelvan, but he didn’t recognize her. She had raven black hair compared to Kelvan’s light brown, and was wearing the forest green robes given to wizards who reached the rank of Master.

The two of them were smiling and holding hands. If they’d posed for a painting like this, Gideon could only assume they had been married, or at least engaged. He thought back to Ondine’s words from earlier—He’s suffered more than you know. After a moment of silent reflection, Gideon continued up the stairs.

After two more flights, Gideon reached the top of the stairwell and a large wooden door. The door was slightly ajar, and Gideon felt cool air whistling through. Was someone already outside?

The door led out to what appeared to be a large balcony. Though the night was dark other than the moon and stars, a large form stood at the railing, a shadow against the sky.

They turned, their armor whining, and with a droning voice, said, “Oh, it’s you.”

The knight from earlier. Kelvan had called him Clonk, hadn’t he? What a strange name.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Gideon said. He raised the crystal in his hand. “I was trying to find a connection.”

“Is that some kind of euphemism?” the knight asked, then shrugged and turned away. “You will not find one out here.”

Now that Gideon focused, he saw a small tubular device on a tripod beside Clonk. The knight leaned over it, pressing his helmet against one end.

“No, I meant like a signal so I can call my boss.”

“Ah,” Clonk said as if he was only half paying attention to their conversation. “You intend to report to your liege. I understand.”

Gideon approached the railing of the balcony. As he drew closer, he realized Clonk’s device must have been a telescope. So the knight was interested in astronomy? He never would have expected.

“Thank you again, for saving my life earlier.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Clonk said with a shrug. “So there is no need to thank me.”

“Enjoying your vacation, then?” Gideon asked.

“Indeed. Grimsby came to complain about that earlier. He also complained about you, lad. Said you had spurned Master Kelvan’s generous offer. But if you already have a liege, I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“Not a liege, exactly, just a job.”

“Well, that’s quite different,” Clonk said. He adjusted a dial on the side of the telescope, and Gideon was impressed by how deft he was, even in his armor. Did he never take it off? “Ahhh, there she is. A true beauty! I’m usually busy at night, so I don’t often have time for stargazing. But what a wonder she is. Take a look.”

At Clonk’s urging, Gideon pressed his eye to the telescope and saw a brilliant blue star through the lens. It twinkled, pulsing with light. Astronomy was another course taught at Falconridge, as the positions of the stars were relevant for certain high-level spells. None of them mattered when it came to low-level geomancy, however. He wished he knew what he was looking at.

“Lyraen the Maiden,” Clonk said. “Destined never to see her father again.”

Her father being Elysion, the god of the sun. Gideon knew that much, at least. “Wow,” he said. “I’ve never seen Lyraen in so much detail.” Compared to most, she was a small star—the deity of longing. Gideon found he could relate.

“Ah, yes. It’s like you can reach out and grab her, eh?” Clonk laughed, a strange, echoing sound emanating from within his armor. “Don’t do it, though! She is a maiden, and her honor must be defended.”

Gideon pulled away from the telescope, and blinked at him. “I don’t think she needs to worry about us,” he said.

Clonk abruptly slapped him on the shoulder. “Good,” he replied, sounding delighted, before returning his attention to the telescope.

Holding up the Etheric Communicator, Gideon again tried to focus some of his mana through the crystal. This time he felt a resonance. The crystal had made a connection, and there must have been a message waiting for him because his boss’s voice began to ring in Gideon’s ears almost immediately, though the message was fragmented.

“—little shit, do you even know—”

Gideon frowned. From the few words that had come through, it did not sound good. After looking at Clonk again, however, he got an idea. “Uh, Sir Clonk, may I borrow you for a moment?”

The knight didn’t raise his helm from the telescope. “I’m on vacation now, as you know,” he said. “So, if you expect me to carry you back down the mountain, I’m afraid I’m currently quite busy.”

“You don’t need to do anything. I only supposed that your armor might be a conductor and, therefore, could serve as an antenna?”

Clonk shrugged but did not look up from the telescope. “Ah, Lyraen, you saucy minx,” he whispered. What happened to defending her honor? “Well, go ahead. As long as I don’t have to actually do anything.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Gideon walked around the telescope and pressed the crystal against the side of Clonk’s armor. He tried focusing his mana through the Communicator again, and this time, the message came through loud and clear.

“Ah, that tickles,” Clonk said. “But not in an unpleasant way. You may continue.”

“Message for Gideon Moody,” the crystal said in an ethereal voice. His boss’s voice came next, “Gideon, where the fuck are you? Your shift started an hour ago! You little shit, do you even know this is the busiest time of the year? I don’t think you’re taking this job seriously. You’d better get here before I hang up, or you’re done.”

Gideon sighed. He’d told Dreadmoor perfectly well that he wouldn’t return for a few more days. After a moment, he took a deep breath and pushed his mana back through the crystal.

“Call Mr. Dreadmoor,” he said, and the crystal responded, vibrating.

It only took a moment until the crystal hummed, the connection established.

“Hi, Mr. Dreadmoor—” Gideon began before he was instantly cut off.

“Gideon! Where the hell are you? Do you think these spades are going to enchant themselves? What do we even pay you for?”

“Well, Sir, with all due respect, I requested time off to deal with a personal matter. I wasn’t scheduled to work today.”

“Haven’t you looked at the schedule, kid? Bartas had to call out because his cat died, so we slotted you back in. This is no time for a vacation.”

“This isn’t a vacation, Sir. I’m actually in the Frostpeak Mountains right now, so there’s no way I can return today, even if I wanted to. That’s actually what I called to ask you about, I need a few more days before I can—”

“A few more days? Are you serious?”

“Yes, Sir, I am serious. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but there’s no way I can make it back any sooner than next week. I was wounded today, and my leg is still recovering.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Gideon, do you know that?”

“Uhh, Sir?”

“I stuck my neck out for you with EnviroCharm. They didn’t want to hire someone so inexperienced, but I told them, ‘He’s a good kid.’ I said that about you. Staking my reputation on you. And now here you are, proving me wrong.”

A good kid? Gideon thought. Didn’t he just call me a little shit? “Listen, Sir. Mr. Dreadmoor, I’ve worked for you for almost five years, haven’t I? I’ve been very punctual, other than one time I was sick. I’ve worked late, and I’ve come in on weekends. Whenever there’s a crunch, I’m there. But I really need a few more days before I—”

“Ah, yes, Gideon, let’s talk about what you need. I don’t think you appreciate what EnviroCharm needs. What our customers need. You know what we have given you all these years? Money in your pocket. A place to live. Food to eat. Far more than you deserve, if I’m being honest. What am I supposed to say to Mrs. Fernwood when she comes in to buy a new hoe, and I have to tell her we don’t have any enchanted hoes because Gideon Moody didn’t come into work? Do you want me to sell Mrs. Fernwood an unenchanted hoe, Gideon? What am I supposed to tell her when it starts to rust?”

Something within Gideon snapped. He didn’t know what it was that finally sent him over the edge. Perhaps the feeling had been building within him for years, and he’d only just now decided to listen to it. To let his anger, his resentment, and his sadness be free. “You know what, Mr. Dreadmoor? How about you and Mrs. Fernwood go fuck yourselves. I quit.”

Dreadmoor started to shout at the top of his lungs, and Gideon threw the crystal off the balcony. The shouting cut off as suddenly as it had begun. A moment later, Gideon heard the crystal shatter on the rocks below.

A strange feeling passed through him, a mountain of tension leaving his body. He looked up to the sky, at the stars and moon watching from above, at Lyraen, and he began to laugh like a maniac. Had he really just done that? Tears spilled from his eyes, but he did not bother to wipe them away. He let them stream down his face as he raised his fists toward the heavens. For a brief and wondrous moment, he felt free.

At least, he did until the weight of what he had done sank in. How was he going to make money? Or pay his debts? And he probably should not have insulted Mrs. Fernwood. She had always been a lovely lady and seemed appreciative of the merchandise Gideon spent so much of his time enchanting. In a heated moment, the words had just spilled out of him.

What was he going to do now?

“I only heard half that conversation,” Sir Clonk said, pulling Gideon from his thoughts, “but I take it your schedule has opened up?”

Gideon laughed again. “I suppose it has.”

“So, want to look at some more stars?”

“Yeah, you know what? I think I do.”

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Copyright © 2023 Tater Prince. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

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