Chapter 23: Adventurer

There were a number of particularly nasty death magic spells I knew, that would only use a little of my ectoplasm. I could cut the priest in half with a Wind Blade or crush him with a Rock Throw. I could release my illusion, and take the man by surprise with my Bone Claws.

I could, but should I? I may be an undead Lich but that didn’t mean I was evil. I had fought more in the past few nights than I had in centuries back home, and it was beyond time I learned to tolerate civilised living again; despite how uncivilised this society appeared to be.

Standing, stark naked, as couples giggled and the priest smirked in satisfaction didn’t bother me. Why would it? It wasn’t even my body. I didn’t even have a body. I was 1208 years old and I was beyond such petty embarrassment. Alright, maybe it bothered me a tiny, insignificant amount. And I might have secretly used a Wind Breath spell to pull down the clergyman's trousers as he walked away, my only robe in hand.

Once they had vacated the premises my drinking companion was kind enough to lend me his coat, to at least cover me up. Once I was decent, he shook my hand and introduced himself properly.

“Name's Tintagel,” he announced, a broad grin on his face.

“Osseus,” I replied.

“That was smart of you, not to cause a fuss. The Church of Light has a lot of power in this city.”

“They do?” I asked, curious.

“Come on, I’ll tell you about it but we should go to my place. Get you some clothes.”

“That’s alright,” I protested, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Beats drinking and feeling sorry for myself,” he said, downing the last of the ale and slamming the tankard on the table.

Going back through the drinking room was harder the second time as the performers had picked up the tempo, and people were dancing, spinning, and twirling in a way that only seemed competent to a drunk.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, when I could finally hear myself think again, out in the cold night air.

“Woden’s term just started,” he said, as if that explained it.

“I don’t follow,” I replied, rather too loudly.

“All the Witches, Wizards, Sorcerers, and Warlocks are back safely behind their walls. They’re not out in the city causing havoc. Anyone with the slightest ounce of mana from within the kingdom and without, gets sent there; for a lot of them it’s too far to travel back home for the holidays, and we’re stuck with a city full of magic running amuck, for six weeks a year,” he elaborated.

“It can’t be that bad,” I protested, never having heard of so many magically gifted people in one place.

He guffawed, “just you wait, when half term rolls around, you’ll know just how bad it gets. You’ve seen the main gate no doubt, the lord built that as a reminder to all the trouble makers, to stay in line… Didn’t work mind.”

I paled, thinking back on the macabre monument, it would have to get pretty bad for something like that to be a popular move.

Tintagel was rather spry for his age, although he did seem to favour his left leg. He led us through a labyrinth of twisting warrens, the city too vast and sprawling to keep a clear picture within my mind. Eventually, we came to a somewhat middling district with four story tenements. Tintagel unlocked the door to a small ground-floor dwelling which abutted the river, giving it a nice view. In the residential boroughs, partiers could still be heard, though far more quietly.

Leaping into a dusty wardrobe, the older man started rummaging through a lifetime’s collection of clothes. Tops, bottoms, and everything in between went flying across the room as he dug through the collection, even a varied selection of women's undergarments and a costume that might only fit a dog.

“Here it is!” he proclaimed triumphant, atop a pile of vanquished cloth. “Put these on,” he insisted, thrusting the clothes toward me. In his hands he held a thick, canvas coat, cut in the style of a smoking jacket that, instead of being tied closed - was held together with a series of leather straps and buckles. The material was black but appeared grey from long-use. It also came with a set of similarly styled trousers; essentially cloth armour.

“I can’t take this, it’s too much,” I tried, knowing something like this, even in its current condition, had some value.

“Nonsense, think of it as recompense for the drink you bought me,” Tintagel insisted. We went back and forth for some time, but my current state of undress eventually won him the argument. The thickness of the garb helped hide how bone-thin my frame was; I looked like a stick when it was all tightly cinched.

“There, nearly look as good as me in my prime,” he announced, when it was finally fitted.

“Thank you, truly.” I said.

“It’s nothing,” he repeated for the third time, “reminds me of my adventuring days,” he said, wistfully.

“You used to be an adventurer?” I asked, still curious about the unfamiliar profession.

“I was… until I took an arrow to the knee,” he replied, slapping the body part in question - standing, “right, let’s get you signed up.”

“What, now?” I asked, looking out at the early morning sky.

“Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today,” he quoted.

“It’s the middle of the night, will there be anyone there?” I asked.

“There is always someone there, in case of emergencies,” Tintagel explained vaguely.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

☠

An hour or so later, I found myself waiting outside a rather utilitarian building, surrounded by tall and decadent structures, in the guild district. Tintagel had gone into the lit building first, claiming he needed to “make sure the coast was clear.” I didn’t understand why, until an elderly woman’s voice came bellowing out - setting nearby dogs to barking.

“YOU DEVIOUS, RABBLE-ROUSING, SLANDERER! THE LEVEL OF DISHONESTY…” the banshee wail continued, but I couldn’t hear it over the sound of shattering glass. I was worried for the elderly man but he sprung back to his feet without a scratch.

“I’m sorry honey, but I had to write that, my editor insisted,” Tintagle tried to console as he leaped back in through the door, only to be sent flying through another window - this time a chair hitting him solidly in the chest. He staggered slightly before righting himself.

“OLD! YOU CALLED ME OLD!” the voice yelled.

“Not old, just… you’ve been a guild master for a long time and some people, not me mind, think you might – retire?… maybe spend more time with your husband,” Tintagel pleaded, the last spoken under his breath.

“You don’t think I’m strong enough, do you? I’ll show you I’ve still got what it takes. I can still run circles around today's adventures. This is that stupid lord's fault. He thinks there should be a member of the church in my position doesn’t he? Well, doesn't he?” she shouted, continuing her tirade. An inkwell flew out of a third window and bounced off Tintagel’s head, flying into the distance and causing cats to hiss. He swayed slightly. Realising I hadn’t used the skill often enough, I activated Identify.

ERROR - target level is too high to gain information.

He seemed to notice the attempt, shooting me a grin and a knowing wink. The woman who exited the building was not what I expected. The Strength demonstrated and the general brutish carnage made me think the woman would be a hulking barbarian but instead out stepped a hunched back crone. She had long grey hair, a wart on her large nose and a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her steps were small and shuffled and in her hand she brandished a wand.

She used Wind Breath to nab a passing owl, much to its surprise, and slammed it into the elderly man’s face. The creature was unharmed but it beaked and clawed desperately to remove itself from Tintagel.

The level of grace and precision with which she used the spell was truly inspiring, she didn’t even have to look to see the bird. It was subtle, but it was as though the air around us was her mana. I couldn’t tell where one started and another began. I had been relying on a millennia of knowledge and brute force to get my spells to work in this world, but I had just seen how far I had to attain mastery. I was ecstatic. With her level of efficiency in Wind Breath alone I could hurl boulders around all day and replenish mana faster than it was spent.

“Loretta, please. It isn’t like that.”

“Loretta, is it? I’d love to ask about that Wind Breath,” my mind focused on nothing but the magic.

“Who are you?” she asked, still hot with anger, “and why are you wearing Tinny’s old armour?”

“I brought him here to get registered,” Tintagel tried to explain.

“Where did you meet this one, out drinking again,” Loretta berated.

“Well I might have had a couple,” he replied, sheepishly.

“I know what your Poison Resistance is, I know that a couple wouldn’t do a thing. How much money did you waste this time, go on spill it!” Loretta demanded.

“Your mana is melded seamlessly with the air. How do you do that?” I gushed, ignoring the spat.

Loretta stopped and blushed slightly, “well at least he has manners, unlike some of the lot you bring me.” She turned to me and spoke more gently, “come inside dear, we need more folk like you in the guild. IF I’M TO BE REPLACED!” She yelled at the old man, who didn’t seem phased in the least. leading the way inside, Tinny tried to follow but she stopped him. Producing two giant lead weights from a special ring she forced him to hold them out to each side until she got back. With reluctance, he agreed, and I was left alone with a fascinating Witch.

“Would you like a mint lad?” she asked, in a tone more suited to old ladies.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said as I continued to study the aura around her. I could see through which nodes it entered and exited her mana system and I was beginning to understand how it worked. She may have called me a lad but my current guise, that of the Black tower’s Archmagus, appeared closer to thirty.

“I can see you looking at my Wind Domain, it’s rude to stare,” she chided gently. “It’s a Master tier spell, you seem to have enough mana, so with maybe a decade of study, you might be able to learn a death-mana version, to suit your affinity,” I nodded absently as she spoke, running the calculations in my head. Working out how mana from different nodes might react with the environment and with itself.

We came to a plain desk, square and unremarkable. There were two doors either side of it, leading further into the building but from here, I could only see the reception. She sat at the desk and shuffled around the papers, retrieving a form. Part of my brain, that wasn’t working on the current problem, clicked.

“You’re the receptionist, I thought you were the guild master?” I asked.

“Why not both?” she countered with a wicked grin, “besides I’ve always believed how people treat the receptionist is more telling than how they treat the guild master. That, and I like throwing fools through windows, they have a repair enchantment; see?” She gestured to the glass which had reconstructed itself. On the cill was inscribed some form of enchantment. I was, of course, interested but my brain was otherwise occupied.

“Just sign here.” she said and I did so. “That’s everything,” she declared, tossing me an iron pin. On its head was a shield with a map, sword and crossed wand.

“That's it?” I asked, looking down at the rather short document that I hadn’t bothered reading.

“All it says is it’s not our fault if you go off and get yourself killed,” she replied, filing away the form.

“Fair enough,” I shrugged.

She led me into the room to the left. opening the door, glowstones, like Wand and Staff had possessed, flickered to life, illuminating the space. At the far end of the room was what looked like a bar but was, in fact, a long line of connected desks. Seats, empty, spaced out behind it. The other three walls were covered in noticeboards on which were, placed neatly, rows of posters. Some possessed illustrations of horrifying monsters, others of various plants. Listed also was the amount of money each job paid. The noticeboards were all protected by a layer of magically reinforced glass.

“How do I take one?” I asked.

“You see the reference number in the bottom left?” to which I nodded. “Take that to the desk and someone will tell you how many people, if any, are already working that job, and, when they were dispatched. First to complete the job gets the pay, no exceptions. Helps us solve people's problems in a timely fashion.”

“And I can take any of these, there's no prerequisites?” I asked, distractedly as I wandered around the room, looking at quest after quest.

“Of course, we don’t have some hierarchy like the masons guild or the merchants guild. If you get yourself killed on a mission that’s your fault, and the guild is better as a whole for it. Take whichever quest suits you and if you’re having trouble, the staff will be happy to help you,” she went on, as if she was talking about a favourite grandchild.

“I’ve got it!” I exclaimed, excited.

“Got what?” she asked, confused.

I gathered the mana through the correct pathways, ebbing and flowing in certain nodes, before dispersing out into the ambient mana. Instead of dissipating, it slowly merged with the air-mana in the room until it all became an extension of my magical network. It was crude and heavy handed compared to Loretta's version but it worked!

Congratulations:

* You have learned Wind Domain: Master

“Noctus’ tits!” Loretta blurted, flabbergasted.