“Godsdamn it!” I screamed.

I jumped up, desperately clutching at my chest. I took in several gulps of air before I managed to quit shivering. I slowly removed my hands, my bare chest was perfectly healed, not even a scar remained from the monster’s strike. Huh, a spot of luck for once…

I struggled to recall why I was so frightened. I remembered an icy burning in my heart, and then the sound of glass shattering in my very being. I removed the bedsheet covering my legs and stood up. My body was fine, the cuts and bruises of the journey also gone.

I looked about at my meager possessions, everything was accounted for. Crappy storage chest, rucksack, pouch with lamia vials… Huh?

I grabbed the pouch from the top of the closed chest. I opened it and found my three vials there, all filled. That’s how it’s supposed to be, but not how it was? I was confused at my confusion. Please, Gods, don’t let me be going insane now…

Something had happened, something important… The hell? My memory, my senses, all were fuzzy… While I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew something was off, very off… Vague images of the Vice Dean and extreme pain vexed me. I remembered them, but so unclear… And here, something was incredibly off, I felt, safe. Secure. Content. These were not emotions I had experienced for quite some time.

What the hell was happening?

I groaned before quickly putting on my clothes. I didn’t know what was wrong with my head, but I had an odd sense that I needed to be moving. Strapping the pouch on top of my attire, I exited the door. Outside…

I rubbed my eyes, but the sight of charcoal gray brick buildings and walls didn’t change into the expected spiral staircase. I turned back; my room was exactly the same, though disjointed from its previous location at the top of a tower.

This was not normal… I reached for a blade just in case, surprises were best matched by preparedness. Second best to preparedness was copious, unanticipated, violence.

I closed the door to my room behind me. Stupid I know, but I felt safer knowing a thief would at least have to slightly push the door open. On that note, I stopped and debated reopening the door as there really was no need, before cursing at my own idiocy. There’s something more important to address right now…

I barely walked five paces before a hand landed heavily on my shoulder.

“Well, look who’s up!”

I deftly pulled my dagger from its sheath and turned ready to stab. My adversary’s appearance forced me to freeze in shock before I could thrust the blade forward. She was a buxom woman with long, dark blue hair falling to her thighs. My eyes couldn’t stop admiring her voluptuous figure.

“I was so worried about you, Lord Tome!”

She clasped her hands around mine and looked at me joyously. The dagger was still clenched in my fists, pointed towards her. Her bewitching blue eyes never left mine, causing me to wonder if she even saw the blade. In this awkward position I noted her aquiline nose and beautiful features.

She released my hands and grabbed my arm, her bust pressing heavily against my shoulder.

“Come, let’s get to the good part!”

I quickly sheathed my blade, best not to stab this lovely creature, a fellow mage? No way. She must be a prostitute, that’s the only logical explanation for this. A dream is also likely… Well, either way, why let a good thing go to waste? My free hand carefully double checked that my other blades were all in proper order (while I anticipated a happy ending to this, dream, best cautious in case it turned out to be a nightmare).

She gently podded me, and we began our awkward journey. The same charcoal bricks comprised every structure and street while beautifully varnished oak shone under midnight blue brick tiles, and composed doors, shutters, and posts. People busy at work stopped to place their right hands to their chests before dutily performing short, perfunctory, bows towards me. Definitely not reality… I still knew something was off, but for some reason, it felt natural. My mind screamed to consider what was happening, but my heart constantly reassured me, this is how it should be…

All of them were all foreign to me, yet I felt as though I knew each one. No, more than that, I felt as if they were family… I knew this wasn’t right, but there was a feeling of warmth and security that I haven’t felt for so long. Isn’t this a bit too touchy-feely for a dream?

The people’s clothing was varied, though everyone bore sigils on their shoulders; a charcoal gray castle surrounded inside a round field of blue being assailed by brown thorns from the edges. Underneath were three words I couldn’t distinguish.

Seeing that sigil again, I also sensed some strange connection. I pondered this as we passed numerous residences and shops, each alive with their own unique din and clatter. We came to a large plaza with a massive oak tree in the center. The trunk was at least 6 foot in diameter, stretching almost ten feet up before it arched back into numerous trunks. They provided a wide, beautiful, leafy canopy to the plaza’s center.

I walked up to the tree, passing smiling children and parents. My eyes were wet, I stiffened up. Don’t be weak, don’t be weak… I know this tree, I had seen its visage often as a child. It was our foundation. It was, but now was again, maybe. They were stories, and this cannot possibly be that tree, not here… This can only be a dream.

Soft hands wrapped around me and softer mounds fell against my back.

“Beautiful isn’t it? Sturdy, strong, old, wise… Comforting all generations who have sat beneath it, connecting us to heritage long past, but forever felt.”

I was asleep, that was the only way any of this made sense. Something is amiss, no, was amiss, but… I remembered my hatred, it was still there, but no longer as intense. Why am I so content, no, so passive?

One arm released me to beckon someone further away. A burgher arrived carrying a platter, two frothy steins of ale rested atop.

“Come, let’s enjoy a bit of fun. It’s a lovely day for a drink!”

She forced one stein into my hands before claiming the other. She held it up offering me a toast, before her red lips drained a fair portion. She looked at me challengingly.

The hell if I was to be outdone drinking. I laughed and matched her, the froth annoyingly sticking to my face.

Like the others, I felt a connection to her. Not so familial as, old friend? I was so confused, but somehow, I knew I could trust her, trust the others, trust even this Godsdamn hulk of nature at the center of the plaza. She smiled coyly, approaching me with a hungry look. The hell if I’ll miss such an obvious cue. I took her by the waist, and we kissed.

We sat against the trunk and talked. Of House Rimoude past, House Rimoude present, my journey, and Kevin. We laughed so much together, intoxication and perfection slowly overcoming my senses. She knew my family’s history, and shared in my grief. This beautiful woman, Felicia, knew me, every whim, desire, and memory I possessed.

Tome, something is wrong! Or was it? But it all felt as though it should be…

The more we talked, the more my feelings of misgiving faded away. Whatever this place was, it was where I belonged, where I should enjoy myself. My hands occasionally fell instinctively to my daggers, but never do I find a need for them.

I asked Felicia what this place was, she smiled seductively while stroking my arm.

“Whatever you want it to be.”

I don’t know why, but I believed her, my doubts fading. I decided to embrace the dream, everything else had been shitty in my life recently, didn’t I deserve a bit of good luck? And if it was just a dream, all the more reason before I came to.

The hours, days passed. I no longer cared. There was no burden to bear here, no work needing to be done. I rested, finally at ease.

In the mornings we walked throughout the center of the city, never venturing further than a block or two from the plaza. We visited the shops and houses and admired the facades. We returned in the afternoon, talked and drank, and drank even more.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Inevitably the cups came, and we played dice.

“Two sixes!”

“Three fours!”

“Open!”

I smiled as we both revealed our dice. Amongst the dice I had one four and Felicia one as well. Just one short of three fours.

She glared at me before grabbing the stein and downing half of it. She gave me a suggestive smile and I took her hand. We walked up the tavern steps to our room as we had done every night previous. It was going to be another glorious night.

--------------------------------------------------

I woke up, Felicia naked beside me underneath the covers. My hand stroked her arm, before moving carnally to her breast. She murmured in delight but didn’t wake. I sat up and yawned. Odd, she’s usually up before me.

Putting on my pants I walked out of the room. I could use a pint to start my day. A barmaid greeted me as I alighted the last step.

“A pint please, as cold as you can muster.”

“Already at ya’ table my Lord, along with ya’ appointment.”

“Appointment?”

I scratched the stubble on my face, how in the hell do I have an appointment? The burghers who called themselves my retainers were always eager to greet me, and happily converse with me. Yet never had they asked me for more time, much less an appointment.

I walked over to my and Felicia’s usual table. There was a well-dressed man with his back to me. His head bald, but a black beard just slightly visible from my angle. He was draped with a dark gray cloak topped with a thick fur collar. As I pulled out my chair, I saw his deep indigo clothing beneath, a large town sigil in the center.

I looked at his well-trimmed beard, posh bastard, must be nice to be able to afford that… Now I can grow a beard, and cutting the style is not so hard. But trimming, especially evenly throughout, is not something a man can do by himself. I inwardly sighed as I looked at his square jaw and solid looking face. His irises were as as black as his pupils. He was not smiling, and I felt the solemnness he conveyed.

He gave off a strange impression, unlike Felicia or the others. There was a weighty gravitas that was exuded, as though he shouldered the entirety of the world. There was a touch of anger, but no malice. More importantly, he seemed vaguely familiar in a manner similar to the others.

“Y, you have an appointment?”

“No, we have an appointment.”

His lack of a smile deepened, along with his anger. Crap, one of those stuffy bastards who needs exact wording.

“My apologies, our appointment.”

He nodded, his lips more neutral. We stared at each other awhile, playing a game of silence that I wasn’t quite sure how to win. He flinched in a loud sigh.

“Not only have you neglected your lordly duties, but to’ve not even properly scried your city...”

I looked at him, indignation radiating strongly. So familiar…

I let my own anger show, who the hell is this high-class ass? I’m the lord and the hell if I’m taking crap in my city…

“I would appreciate if you would address me as befits my station,” humph! I can use posh words too, “Milord or My Lord is the norm, especially from someone I am meeting for the first time!”

The man looked at me confused, then rolled his eyes.

“So, you’ve lost your memory along with what little common sense you had possessed. My apologies, Lord, had I known your level of incompetence I would have used more monosyllabic words…”

The sarcasm, especially on “Lord,” was all that I needed to recollect his identity.

“Sheriff…”

“Well, look who’s using their brain now! The next time we converse, please use that particular organ before we begin our conversation.”

I looked at him awkwardly. He was, is, just a dream, wasn’t he? He tapped the table impatiently.

“While we can sit here all day listing your faults, why don’t we do what you have consistently failed to?”

I looked at him in a mix of anger and confusion. His tone made me feel like a child, I wanted to yell back, to fight, but something deep down gnawed at me. I remembered feeling something amiss, and now that feeling returned, along with strange incongruities I never before considered.

It was odd that Felicia never took me to the edges of the city. Equally odd was that we never once quarreled. Not even boon companions could pull that off for… Two days? Weeks? Months? How long had I been here in this dream?

The sheriff got up, motioning me to follow him. I stifled a growl; I needed to know what was happening. We walked outside and went south of the mighty oak. We walked for two blocks in silence, the city the same as it always was. We walked farther than I’d ever gone with Feliciana. The first half block was nearly the same, though the colors were fainter.

The more we walked from the center, the more vague details became. Doors no longer possessed knobs, the stone cobbles merged into one solid mass, and the roofs appeared to be made of single thin stone slabs. Even the people became wispy, their faces a dark nebulous gray. Eventually the gray cloud shaped forms replaced everything.

I stopped, my clenched fists white.

“WHO ARE YOU? AND WHAT IS THIS PLACE?”

Somehow, I still felt the welcoming warmth and comfort, but what I saw confirmed that this was not real. What’s worse was that I realized this was no natural dream. Which means I was under a spell. And I knew of only one enemy with this particular power. I mustered up my conviction, pulled a blade from my trousers, and sprinted at the sheriff’s back. We were tricked once, never again…

“I am not an abomination.”

I stopped a few inches from him. There was a conviction to his voice, an absolute truth that couldn’t be denied. I closed my eyes and tried to “feel,” his presence. I felt the similar bond as the one I had with Felicia, but more than that I felt something similar to my father. Strength, courage, blunt truth that would knock your teeth out before sparing your feelings.

“Then what are you, and what is this place?” I asked gentler, more composed by his aura.

He turned to me, his eyes a bit softer.

“This is your citadel, your treasured realm. And I am your sheriff.”

“You know that is not the answer I want. Please, there has been enough mystery and secrets already.”

He sighed “And there are so many more… Alright, what do you last remember?”

“I had met with Agrippina and was going to meet Virgil.”

“What of the vials?”

Memories flooded back, that’s right! I had met with Virgil, the caretaker. He was actually that old man from atop the wall before. He was angry upon discovering that the lamia was worth only a pittance of what he believed since I had already extracted the pheromones.

Giving him the vials, I had made a deal. Half of the profits for the pheromones, use of the gate regardless of the hour (not going to repeat that issue), and employ. The money and work were orc shit, but by agreeing to help Virgil I had free use of the spire’s tools and caretaker facilities. I also had something I was going to need, goodwill on the part of most of the spire’s staff.

Then I met Kevin at dinner, yay, helped out the cooks the next morning, and... Oh shit, that’s right. My training with the Vice Dean.

-----------------------------------

“Why in the hell would you want to master the fire arcanum?”

“To destroy things,” I replied simply.

Agrippina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Why is the current generation of mages such utter incompetents and imbeciles? Gods, FIRE STRONG, WATER WEAK!” Agrippina made an overly masculine voice while doing an arm flex.

“If water’s so great, then why are the vast majority of mages earth and fire?”

“Because they’re either muscle obsessed fools, overzealous firebrands who prefer magic, that like themselves, can’t be properly controlled, or they want quick power without taking the time to learn finesse!”

“I don’t mind if I can learn quicke…”

She stood up beside a tree, punching it. As she stared ice daggers into me, the tree quickly crystallized out from her fist until the entire thing was solid ice. She flicked the trunk with her index finger, the mighty elm shattered into myriad icy shards.

“If you want to self-mutilate your very being, we can do that. In fact, that would still benefit me, but let’s discuss that when you’re somewhat knowledgeable about magic in general.”

She let out a small scream before sitting down besides the stream. We’d been sitting here for an hour now, watching the water flow. I needed to “understand how water moves.” After much thought, I still knew nothing about the water arcanum, but so much more as to why no one chose this path anymore. I sat back down, my anger coming off me in waves.

The vice dean sighed again, “I’m not saying you can’t learn the fire arcanum, what I’m saying is that if you don’t master the basics of water first, you will literally never amount to more than a third of your SP.”

I looked at her surprised, I had been told that fire was the strongest element one could master. Though that person had been a fire mage...

“How do you mean?”

She dipped a finger into the waters, lifting a constantly swirling whirlpool into the air.

“What was the first arcanum discovered?”

“Water?” I guessed.

“No, Divine, or healing arcanum. Magic today is typically taught through etching. While most souls possess an affinity or two, only the divine is usable without outside magical stimuli. A few of the early healers learned how to etch other’s souls, allowing for additional affinities to be cast. The second affinity discovered was water, legends say it was to assist in their healing. While this is obviously crap, there is a solid reason to choose water.”

She looked at me, drilling the seriousness into what came next.

“Protection. Water is the only arcane that can defend against all other forms of magic, even wind. Water is also the only arcane other than the divine that can somewhat ward against curses. Water exists in, and often composes, parts of the other arcana, it is malleable to whatever the wielder themselves is capable of.”

“You really want to destroy things? What good will burning a city do you? The land will recover, and people will return in a decade or two. Now, water, whew… Why not drain all the water beneath the land, slowly killing your foes and all that they hold dear? The city and everything around eventually forming one large Godsforsaken desert…”

“Or, use the water to spread a vicious poison. One that causes your enemies to convulse in terrible suffering. Their innards to dissolve, their bodies to putrefy. That damned woman who said, “I’m from a more Alvish bloodline than you, so naturally I’m prettier!” Watching her pretty face bust out in purple pus-filled pustules until it exploded, bits of rotted brain painting her bigger, prettier bedroom!”

Her anger was replaced by a boisterous mirth. She closed her eyes and swayed side to side, humming. Sweetly dreaming of whatever woman she’d killed. While my estimation of her sanity hit new lows, my respect in her potential to teach me destruction was on the rise.

Then I remembered the words I’d come to deeply regret agreeing to:

“Hey, how about we skip the philosophical and jump to the part where you’re killing things?”

-------------------------------------

“Proficiency comes through knowledge and repetition. There are shorter, more advantageous routes, but the potential gain must be weighed against the cost. Detours can shave days off a journey. You just have to realize that orcs, monsters, or highwaymen are likely to shave bits off you. Most likely your ears. No idea why orcs like them so much. A fetish perhaps?”

-Silvanus Bruti, Earth Mage