There is something wrong with me. The part of me I find lacking is still there. I stare at the black abyss in my dream, the abyss that I bury all the parts I hate about myself. Its tombstone reads:"Here lies Asher in all his laziness, his selfishness, his pride, and his short sightedness." Perhaps If I didn't have these traits I could have been someone or something. I could have seen my parents more before they died, I could have exercised or shown self control, I could have kept my friends close. So many regrets that I'll never be able to take back. "Oh don't be like that Asher. There is so much more to you than this." A faceless figure is sitting on my gravestone giving me platitudes. "Hah look at me can you truly say that." I state with barely disguised self loathing. The figure leans forward with their finger on their cheek. They seemingly give a lot of thought to my question. "I think there is more to you than you realize. You do crave connections, everyday you intentionally make many tiny bonds, the children being the most prominent. And yet you trick yourself that they are useless or that they will only let you down. Why is that?" The figure states in an infuriating innocent tone.
"It's not like that." I state in a barely audible tone. "Oh tell me what's it like, why do you refuse connections. Are you that scared of hurting again? Were your parents Big ol 'meanies for leaving you?" "LIKE I SAID IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" I shout at the figure, "It's because you let everybody down! YOUR indecisiveness killed mom and dad. It's because you were too lazy to visit that they took that trip. You are not worth being friends with because you are a hindrance to everybody. You are inherently unlikable and it should be a crime for anybody to know you!" The figure consolidates to my younger self, holding my favorite blanket and teddy bear. His face is covered in both tears and pain. The same expression is reflected on my face. We stand there looking at each other feeling the hurt until I wake up.
I greet the morning with a shuddering breath and a void in my stomach. I am back in my room, I guess the spiders are taken care of. I don't want to stay here in my thoughts. I take my broken body out of the facility and wonder. Why that dream, why now? I thought I was being useful. I even helped kill a giant scary spider. So why kick me when I am feeling good?
My pace stumbles as I realize where I am: the cacophony of hammer blows and tradesmen yelling making it apparent. I am in the craftsman district. looking around I see the same wonders I was obsessed with over the past two weeks. Then I see it, the kids of the craftsman peering at the wizard with undisguised fervor. One of which was the kid I threw out of harm's way. His expression of horror and betrayal fills my mind. Almost the same expression as my younger self. We make eye contact and I slip away as soon as possible I.. I just need to be alone.
The smell of paper and the sound of bleach white gear assemblies relax my mind. The bright children's images demonstrating letter examples also help. It's hard to stay upset when you're looking at a brightly colored picture of a dragon carrying a cat. Still I am learning the number system and to my luck it's a base 10 system so direct translation is perfect. And the children's books even have shorthand's by counting the strokes of the number to aid in memorization. Finally no interpretive dance to pay for a loaf of bread. Now only If I could learn how anything is pronounced.
There is a theory that humans can sense when people look at them. At first people thought it was a psychic connection or that humans feel the "eye beams" of another creature touching their back. Modern science deemed that that most people cannot reliably tell when they are being observed. And those who can are subconsciously observing reflections or smell. I don't need those subtle indicators as the smell of oil and ink emanates in a miasma from behind me. I turn another page of my book as the person behind me exhales on my neck. That causes me to shutter and jump forward.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
In Front of me stands the same mouse-ish looking woman that helped us with the map. My eyes slide away from her as I remember my internal criticism of her methods of measurements. The same measurements that found the spider's origin. It seems she has a habit of snooping. I should sit with my back to the wall in the future. "Stit" She states as my head tilts in confusion. With all of the grace and patience of a teacher she pulls the book from my hand and points at a letter, "Stit."
I fight an ecstatic smile from overtaking my face. She is the second goddess I found in this land. The first one saved my body, but she saved my mind. The next few hours are filled with me using every memory trick in the book to learn these letters. I make rhymes, mnemonics, and even dust out an old memory palace I never consistently used. My journey to literacy starts here.
Suddenly during my third go-through of my self imposed test my hair stands on end as a low moan reverberates throughout the building. The moan is accompanied by the sound of moving gears as the assembly above us shifts. It all mixes to make an almost reverent melody. The lady stands and heads to the exit. Got it, that's the closing bell.
Jumping home I feel elated. The dower streets and people from this morning transform into kindly cobbles and smiles. My joyous skips take me past a familiar shop symbolized by a star. With my newfound confidence I enter the shop and look around. The magical flower I saw before is still there, it stands alone in an area once densely populated. I boldly stride to the flower and read the tag under its section. It looks like the magical flower and its ilk were valued 1 something. I take a calculated risk and pull out a silver piece. The dower shopkeeper's face brightens now that I am no longer a gawker. I placed both the magical flower and the silver piece on the counter hoping I didn't offend him with my ignorance.
My gamble worked! I make my way back to my temporary lodging with my new clay wrapped package in hand.
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My eyes twitch in annoyance and my hand cradles my nose. Fleece, please tell me this is one of your ill thought out jokes! No, no I know even you wouldn't stoop that low. This reeks of political sabotage. This breeder happens to get a mating pair of spiders on the verge of ascension. I will check the records but I already know what I'll find. No documented traders from the waist have entered the city since the winter. I sigh at a bundle of letters on my desk. An entire district was overrun with these pests. If it wasn't for Fleece then we would have lost the entire district of one-hundred twenty people instead we lost forty people with the rest rescued from enclosed homes or the broodmothers nest.
It would be all fine and well if this was it; a small seed of destruction planted by some political competitor but this goes deeper. It looks like most of the contacts were provided by the pitmaster of the fights. I don't trust any of my agents to not be caught by that cunning bastard. Once more I can't infiltrate directly cause I have to train the kid. I need to get practical training for the him. It's too bad the rabbit was dead. My intention was for him to get some fighting experience. Oh that's it!
With a heavy kick I trounce into Edmunds room. "Rise and Shine my dear student, it's time for more lessons." Edmund doesn't react; he just sits on his bed staring at the hearth. I let out a belly laugh and poke at my dejected student. "Oh man! To think you burnt yourself out in just a day. You must've been using fire since I gave you that wand." As I speak I rummage through his wardrobe and pick out some good leathers. "You remember when I stated that magic takes its price?" I pause and wait until I see an almost imperceptible nod. "When you cast magic you are pulling from two different resources. You know of Primal energy, it is an invisible energy that suffuses the air around us. Living creatures and certain objects such as your wand can hold that energy for later use. This energy Is a lot like oil, for the most part if it is left on its own it is inert. Sure there are edge cases of spontaneous combustion, but what is really needed is a spark. This spark is called the ID. The ID is the desires and needs of all living creatures. In animals this is the basic instinct to survive and have children." The natural gap in the explanation allows me to pull out my dagger and start cutting his armor. "Humans however, have more than basic needs. We are curious and inquisitive. We seek self actualization. When you perform work you drain some of the ID and the more deliberate your control the faster it drains. In your case I don't think fire will be interesting or inspiring to you until I throw you into another frozen river; no matter how you try to force it by staring at a cold fireplace." My lesson ended with a plume of ash. I throw Edmunds armor into the fireplace. "Uh teacher, why did you destroy my armor?" I give a vulpine grin and state "We're going hunting!"