Murphy awoke to the sharp sensation of a slap to the face. His blurry eyes could just make out Callus kneeling above him, and he could hear a muffled sound through the ringing in his ears whenever the old man’s mouth moved. Uundah was on his chest, violently shaking his shirt. His vision cleared while he sat up, but his hearing remained problematic. His master was trying to talk to him, but he kept looking at the man in confusion. Callus rolled his eyes and summoned a potion to his hand. He gave it to the young Warlock and gestured for him to drink it. Soon enough his hearing had returned.
He looked around the room to see a mess of splintered wood and spilled inks. “Well I suppose that didn’t work then” he said with a smile to Uundah.
“What did you do this time Esey Bonrani” Callus snapped, slapping his apprentice upside the head.
“I was just trying some new magic” He defended.
“You were just trying to blow yourself up”.
“No, I really thought it would work, honestly”.
“I know” Callus sighed, “that’s the problem”.
He explained what he had done to his master, and received another slap on his ear.
“You can’t make something like that with wild runes, you moron” the old man reprimanded. “Honestly, sometimes I think I should just let you do it, it’d make my life easier”.
“You’re really nasty sometimes you know” Murphy complained, standing to brush himself off. “I’m just trying to learn”.
“You won’t learn a thing if you’re dead” Callus snapped, “This is why I gave you books, you’re too stupid to learn through practice”.
“Someone had to practice first to write the books” he defended.
“And count yourself lucky they did, otherwise you would just doom us all”.
“I’m not that bad at magic”.
“No you’re not, but you’re very bad at Runecraft”. The old man waved his hand, and a small team of cleaning tools entered the room, getting to work immediately. “Your little experiment has made a mess of you”. He summoned some clothing into his hands, and shoved them to Murphy.
They glowed with aspects of hardening and weight alterations, two aspects Murphy was familiar with since childhood. He pinched the fabric between his fingers, and it was soft. He wondered how someone would go about enchanting something like a shirt, given that there was nowhere to carve a rune.
“Clean yourself up and meet me in the main room” the old man said, as he casually walked out of the room.
Murphy stood in silence for a moment, then looked at his O'jin familiar. “I nearly die, and he just slaps me?” he asked in indignation.
Uundah rolled his eyes, and also left the room.
After his second shower of the morning, and a reluctant shave, he made his way to the main room. He was missing a part of his right eyebrow, being replaced by a scar. Thinking he looked quite dashing, he dressed in the clothes Callus had given him. They consisted of a tight cloth shirt, the neck was closed tighter by a lace threaded into its collar, and the pans were a soft denim like material, dyed a dark grey. His fancy clothing was hidden however, by the thick black cloak he always insisted on wearing. He was taller now than when he bought it, so the bottom no longer dragged on the ground.
He found Callus in the main room. He had a deep purple scarf with crescent moons and stars wrapped around his neck. The old man was showing something in a book to Uundah, and the little O'jin was nodding along intently.
The old man looked up at him, then gestured to the belt and sword he retrieved from the young man’s room. “Put it on, we have to get going”.
“What in the world are you wearing?” Murphy asked, suppressing a giggle.
“It’s my uniform, I have to wear it, and I happen to look quite handsome” Callus defended with his nose held high.
“Okay, Okay, I’ll leave it be” Murphy laughed. “Why the rush?” He asked, latching the belt awkwardly over his cloak. “I thought we had until midday”.
“It’s past midday you dullard, your little stunt cost us the hours”.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Long enough for me to find this in the wreckage” Callus said, holding up a now slightly charred journal.
“You found my book” Murphy exclaimed, running to grab it.
Callus vanished the book before he could get to it. “Yes I did” he said seriously, “and we will be talking about it when we get back”.
Murphy looked sideways at his master. “It’s just a book” he said, confused.
“You really are an idiot” the old man sighed. “Come now, places to be, people to see”. He jumped to his feet, and scooped up Uundah from the table, tossing him to Murphy. The little thing squeaked when he caught it, and shot Callus a dirty look.
He led them through a few rooms. There was a mushroom farm, an unoccupied pantry and a room filled with different kinds of bells. Murphy shrunk in wonder when he saw their destination. The room had three doorways into it, just as any other room would, though its interior consisted of nearly nothing at all. There was a tall arched door sat at the edge of a short stone bridge, surrounded completely by an empty black void. It had the number "5991" on the centre of it.
They approached the door, and he saw a stone carving set into the stone arching the door. In the centre at the top, was a depiction of what looked exactly like a pigeon wearing a pointy hat.
“I’ve never seen this room before” he said, running his hand along the strange wood of the door. It was completely smooth, yet the grain in the timber still looked harsh.
“Good” Callus responded, slapping his hand from the door. “It’s not supposed to be easy to find”.
“Where does it go?”.
“Somewhere else”.
“Where’s that?”.
“Honestly, I have no idea where the other side of that door is right now” Callus said. He casually checked his nails.
“Is it safe?"
"What do you care? You keep trying to blow yourself up anyway."
Murphy shrugged, "Just curious."
"About that" Callus said. "I need you to not be curious about anything until we're inside the Tavern. Keep your head down and your mouth shut, got it?"
The old man was being very serious again. Murphy gulped. "Got it."
"Good" Callus took a deep breath. "Let's go drinking."
He stepped back, and kicked open the door with his long leg. They stepped through into a hallway seamlessly. On the other side, the door was a simple rectangular shape, with a simple steel handle. It had the same number on the centre, and they could see the tower room inside. Looking around the hallway, he saw an ornate red rug lining the wooden floor. The walls were beige and brown striped, and the light was coming from bright rectangles in the ceiling. There were many other doors lining the narrow hall. There was some space between them, and they all looked the same as each other, the only difference was the number. At one end of the hallway was a corner, and the other had what looked like a large metal set of doors with potted plants either side.
"What is this place?"
"Shut up."
They walked towards the metal doors. On closer inspection, there were two buttons beside it. One with an arrow pointing upwards, and the other below it with an arrow pointing down. Callus pressed the down arrow, and stood to wait. After a short while, there was a dinging sound, and the doors slid open, hiding either side in the wall. They stepped into a small room, and the doors closed behind them. They could hear the sound of soothing music being played from somewhere. There were more buttons, numbered 1 to 50 on a big panel. There were also some buttons with symbols associated with mathematics, and a big "G" at the bottom of it all. Callus pressed the G button, and the room shuttered. It felt like they were moving down.
Murphy was dying to ask questions, but every time he raised his head to speak, Callus shot him a deadly glare. After a short while, the room shuttered again. He heard the same dinging sound, and the doors slid open.
They stepped into a large room. It was lit by lanterns and candles, and the windows on the other side of the room showed a night sky outside. There were unoccupied tables and stools placed about, and a staircase leading to more empty sitting areas on a balcony. Murphy tried his best to keep his head down, but his curiosity was too powerful. He glanced up as they walked into the room, to see that it wasn't entirely void of life. There were two men at the bar, one was reading a book, slumped onto the bar with one elbow. The other was the bartender. The man reading the book looked as old and decrepit as Callus, he swirled a glass of amber liquid with his free hand, and looked at his book with intensity. The bartender made Murphy shiver. His skin was covered in scales, and his slitted eyes were fixed in their direction. His hair was a sickly shade of green and looked wet. He was cleaning a glass, and staring at them wordlessly. While Murphy took this in, the old drunk slowly looked up at him from his book. Murphy gulped and quickly looked down, hoping his master didn't see him being curious.
They pushed through another large wooden door. This one was decorated with a routed border and a depiction of a long haired warrior with a large battle axe, standing atop a butchered wyvern. Murphy loved stories about wyverns. Suddenly, the sound of laughter and merriment hit them with force, snuffing the eerie silence in an instant. As they stepped into the Tavern, a large number of the room's occupants turned their attention to them for a moment. Murphy felt like he really stood out, so he held his chin high and strode in behind his master. The room was similar to the one they had just left. The second floor balcony had less patrons than the floor, but it was still quite crowded. The bar was in the centre of the room. It was round and thick, it took up a good portion of the ground floor. A sign hung above it and hosted the name “The Silver Tip” in big Dolmic letters. There was a muscular man behind the bar, along with a few women. He stood over them by several feet, and had glowing lines of orange light running along the veins in his arms. It stood out against the man's dark skin, and seemed to trail behind faintly when he moved to do his work. The bartender would have looked terrifying, if it weren’t for the calming and friendly smile on his face.
The whole room was vibrant with aspectral light, much like the tower. The patrons for the most part were covered in fantastic armours. Others seemed to dress more modestly, much like his master. It was hard to spot anybody without a weapon at their hip or on their backs, aside from the bard playing his loot on a small stage in the corner. While he played, figures made of light danced throughout the crowd. The figures were the characters of the bard's story. The sight of it all had Murphy giddy. This was the kind of place he had always dreamed of, and he drooled at the prospect of the adventure before him.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Good, you didn't wander off" Callus said, looking down at him.
"This place is amazing" Murphy said with awe.
Callus smirked, and looked around. "It's alright I suppose."
"Who were those old men back there?"
Callus slumped, the familiar look of defeat entered his eyes. "You just had to look around didn’t you?"
"It was hard not to" he defended.
"Just hope they didn’t notice you" His master groaned.
"They didn't" he lied.
"Great" Callus sighed sarcastically. "Well, just remember I warned you when you find yourself picking stones from your hands."
"What in the world does that mean?"
"It's not important right now" Callus said, dismissing the conversation. "We came here for a reason."
"My medallion" Murphy interrupted, feeling like a good student.
"Exactly" Callus turned to walk towards the bar, but stopped. He looked over his shoulder at his eager apprentice. "Oh and… Do try not to talk to anyone, you'll make me look bad."
They walked through the crowd to the bar, and were met by the muscular man. He fixed his eyes on Callus, and his smile grew wider.
"Ratter my cranky friend" he said with a thick islanders accent. "What can I get for you today?" He slung a long cloth over his shoulder, and started to rummage behind the counter. He pulled out four bottles of wine, holding them all easily between his chunky fingers. He set them out and Callus looked them over while he spoke.
"I told you not to call me that Molten" he reprimanded the giant without looking up from the bottles.
"I won your name fair and square Merlin" Molten laughed.
"You’re a cheat, there was nothing fair about that wager and you know it" Callus complained. "I'll take the Cavernian Gran-Fruuntah, and the boy needs a medallion."
Molten looked down at Murphy with surprise, as if he had only just noticed him standing there. He put three of the bottles away, and poured a glass of the wine Callus requested before addressing the young Warlock.
"You'll have to come with me then" he said, cleaning his hands on the cloth. He stepped out of the bar and gestured for Murphy to follow him. Murphy looked to his master to see if he should follow, and the old man nodded.
"Don't be such a coward" he said. "I'll still be here when you get back."
Murphy nodded back at him, gulped in his anxiety, then followed the giant man. He took him into a room at the side of the building. Behind the door was a staircase that he assumed led to the Tavern's bed rooms. The room they were in now was dimly lit by a lantern hanging from the ceiling. They sat at a small round table, with a large rune carved into it. Molten sat across from him, and silently held out his hand. Murphy looked at his hand for a moment, wondering what to do. After some consideration, he shook it.
"I'm Murphy LockHalm" he said, smiling. "Nice to meet you."
Molten frowned, and took his hand away. "That's nice lad, but it will still cost a gold."
"Oh" Murphy responded, catching up. He pulled a gold slab from his pouch, and placed it into the man's open palm. He placed the coin on the centre of the rune.
"Do you have any metal you want to use for it?"
Murphy looked at him confused.
Molten sighed, then chuckled. "I take it you don't know how this works?"
"Not a clue" Murphy replied honestly.
The man pulled a small box out from under the table and opened it. Inside there were various types of metals in small ingots, as well as a collection of little colourless crystals. They were opaque, and looked similar to a dead coin. "We're going to take the power from that gold, and put it into some metal to become your medallion" he said.
"I didn't bring any metal" Murphy said, patting his pockets.
"I can sell you some" Molten assured him. "It doesn’t matter much what metal you use, more a status thing."
Murphy looked over the metals in the box, he pointed at one and looked up at the bartender. "How much for that then?" He asked with a big smile.
"The gold metal will cost you three gold slabs" he responded with a knowing smirk.
Murphy checked his coin pouch. He had six slabs left, along with a handful of silver slips. "I'll take that" he said, handing over the slabs. He didn't know if he was being ripped off or not, but he wanted his medallion to be the best he could get.
Molten put the gold ingot inside one of the circles on the table, then pulled a sewing needle from somewhere on his tunic. "Hold your hand above this square" he said, gesturing at a part of the rune.
"You’re not planning to stick me with that are you?" Murphy asked, hiding his hands under the table.
Molten laughed. "That's the plan, just need a drop or two of blood and we're good to go."
"Even I know not to give my blood to a wizard" Murphy scoffed.
"Smart lad, but I'm not a wizard."
"Looks like you're a wizard to me" he said, gesturing at the table.
"I'm an innkeeper" Molten said indignantly. "It's perfectly safe to give your blood to an innkeeper."
Murphy thought on that. He hadn’t heard that part of the rule, but decided the friendly man might have a point. "If I get a curse after this, I'm coming for you first" he threatened, as he timidly held his hand above the square.
In a swift flash, the inn keeper had pricked his finger and returned the needle to his person. He barely saw the giant move, but felt the sting all the same. He squeezed a drop of blood from his finger, and it splashed onto the wood.
"One more" Molten said with a smile.
After the second drop met the first, the innkeeper placed one of the opaque crystals into the small puddle.
"Now place your hands onto the rune, and repeat this oath" he said, placing Murphy’s hands into two more circles. "By my oath, I swear to never forsake the honour of the medallion, the Tavern, or the sanctuary of shelter. Else I may be subject to the wroth of the dragon hart."
Murphy repeated the oath, and the rune on the table lit up. Strange aspects drifted from the lines while it worked, some sharing the same foreign quality he noticed in the threshold all those years ago. The gold melted into the rune lines, and flowed towards the coin. When it met the coin, they melted into a white hot mass. It spun in the centre of the table and pulsed with bright flashes of light, until it started to settle into a hexagonal shape. Soon, the crystal started to rattle as well. It floated upwards, the blood trailing behind. It danced with the sanguine ooze for a moment, until the blood turned to mist. The crystal spun as the mist was absorbed into it, then it met the medallion in the centre. After another moment of bright pulsing, the completed medallion settled onto the table in silence. It was a shiny gold, with a deep red crystal in the centre. Molten raised his eyebrow at him, then pressed a glass bead against the medallion. There was a subtle exchange of aspects between them. He pocketed the bead, and handed the new medallion to its owner. Murphy was elated to receive his new toy.
"Not often you see a red crystal first thing" Molten said, not bothering to hide his curiosity.
"What was it supposed to be?"
"Green usually, sometimes blue, not often red though". He looked Murphy over intensely. "Won't be a recruit, that's for sure."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Your ranking in the Tavern" Molten squinted at him. "How do you not know any of this?"
"I come from a small town" Murphy defended.
Molten took out his own medallion. It was made of iron and held a clear crystal, the same as the old Merlin. He tapped on one of the runes. "This will change, depending on your ranking. Your rank will help the Tavern know what work to send your way, and help others know how capable you are."
"What is my ranking?" Murphy asked, excited.
"Well most people start as a recruit" Molten responded, looking the Warlock over again. "But in the case that someone comes to us and the crystal is blue or red, that shows you're already quite capable."
Murphy smiled at that. He always knew he was special, it was nice to have a badge to prove it.
Molten pat the pocket he put the glass bead into. "Tell you what, why don't you go and have a drink on the house while I deal with this paperwork."
Murphy felt bad. He had never been subjected to paperwork himself, but he had heard it was particularly suffering. Molten led him back to the main room, and they found Callus sat at a booth with the bottle of wine and a pile of Camembert, he didn’t have a glass. Murphy joined him, and Molten gestured for one of the bar staff to bring them something. Soon enough, he was say in front of a bowl of hot soup and a large tankard of something golden and foaming.
"How did you do?" Callus asked curiously.
Murphy tossed his medallion to the old man. He scoffed at the gold then looked it over. "That's interesting" he said, handing it back.
"I reckon it's better than yours" he boasted. "Your crystal doesn't even have a colour."
"You’re so dumb it hurts, did you know that?" Callus groaned. "I’m a Merlin Murphy, that's as high as the ranks go. Still, I suppose congratulations are in order". He raised his bottle, and clinked it against Murphy’s mug.
They sat and drank for some time. Murphy soaked in the atmosphere, and enjoyed the bard's stories. After his fourth mug of ale, he heard the sound of a ringing bell from the bar. Molten was holding a cowbell in one hand, and what looked like a coin pouch in the other.
"Alright everyone listen up" he bellowed. "Thanks to this kind gentleman here" he gestured to a rogueish man at the bar. The man raised his mug and Molten continued. "For the next two hours, fighting's free" he cheered. The Tavern erupted in excitement, and everyone raised their drinks to the man at the bar.
"Hold onto your cup boy" Callus said, as he scooped his bottle firmly into his hand. Murphy followed suit.
The moment the cheer died down, a short and broad man threw his mug to the ground. He stood from his seat, then promptly sprinted across the room. He spotted a table of men that had also discarded their drinks. He leaped from several meters out, and dived spread eagle into the group, sending everyone crashing into the floor. Within no time at all, the sound of battle cries and mugs smashing filled the room, and the Tavern was host to an all out brawl.
"So you have to pay to fight in here?" Murphy scoffed.
"It's a tax" Callus said, waving his hand. "It's complicated, but you can pay the tax in advance."
"I thought you said this place is safe."
"You’re not being beaten to a pulp right now are you?"
"Not yet I suppose."
"And you won't, as long as you hold onto your drink." The old man raised his bottle to punctuate his point.
"What if I didn't have a drink?" Murphy probed.
"You should always have a drink in the Tavern, mead and bread are free, so you really have no excuse to be that stupid."
Murphy swirled his mug. He was pretty sure it was mead in the cup. The innkeeper made it seem like it was a special treat. He smirked at that, and raised his mug to the bar. Molten didn't see, but it's the thought that counts.
They sipped at their drinks and enjoyed the bar fight for some time. Murphy fixed his focus on a ten foot grey man. He had four arms, and bones that grew through his skin, wrapping his bulging physique in a natural armour, and had long messy dreadlocks sagging from his skull. He wore a kilt, supported by a leather strap slung over one shoulder. Men of nearly equal stature were running at him from all sides, yet the four armed warrior had no trouble throwing and pummelling every attacker. He watched one man receive two bone spiked fists to either side of his head at the same time, and the victim had been lying in a puddle of his own gore since. The entire room was filled with giants. The sheer musculature of the warriors made even the towering Callus seem small. He thought he was used to giants, after being raised by a Demai, but this experience made him feel smaller than ever. He didn’t know his own height. It had been so long since he had been measured. At a guess though, he was sure he wasn't even six feet tall. He was a mouse among bulls.
Their view was obscured by a timid looking warrior, armoured in a full set of sky blue steel plate. He was approaching them cautiously, with his helmet held to his chest, the feathers from the top of it pressing under his chin.
"Excuse me, good patrons" he said politely, his voice deep and chivalrous. "My companions have encouraged me to approach you" he said to Callus.
The old man gestured for him to continue.
"I would be a fool to not admit, that I have been watching you since you walked into this Tavern". He shuffled nervously on the spot. "If I could be so forward". He paused to gauge the old man's reaction.
"Ask your question" Callus sighed.
"Good Merlin, may I have the honour of this fight" he asked with a bow.
Callus smirked at Murphy, then proceeded to chug his wine. When he was done, he threw the bottle to the floor. The man looked up with a gleeful smile when it smashed.
"Why not" The old man said, standing to his feet. "When in Son Gonkiruun, do as the locals do" he chuckled, before launching his wiry fist into the warrior's face.
Murphy watched on in amusement, as the old man moved with surprising speed to beat into the polite warrior from every angle. The warrior did his best to defend against the onslaught, but only managed to land a few hits himself. The old man cackled the entire time, his infectious laughter drew a crowd, and soon enough the old man and the warrior were deep into the bar fight. He lost sight of his master a few times, but it was always easy enough to spot the crazy Merlin when he was thrown shrieking into the air.
He was so caught up in the spectacle, that he didn’t even notice the woman that had joined him at the table, until she cleared her throat.
Sitting across from him, was a beautiful young woman. She had pale skin, and long raven black hair tied into a bun behind her head. Her clothing was strange to him. She had a white collared shirt made of a fabric he hadn’t seen before, and when he looked around the edge of the table, he could see a tight charcoal skirt that cut off just above her knee. She also wore stockings and heels. Along with the spectacles she wore in front of her eyes, she presented a very proper appearance.
Murphy took this all in, not bothering to hide his staring. She sat with her hands on a stack of papers with a sternly unamused expression on her face.
"Are you Murphy LockHalm" she asked impatiently.
"Aye" he responded with a smile. "But my friends call me Murphy". He raised his mug to her and winked. "You can call me whatever you want."
She rolled her eyes, and started to flick through the papers. "Says here you need a tavern ranking."
"So I've been told."
"And you would be a fourth rank?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"If you say so" He shrugged.
She looked him up and down. "How old are you?"
He thought about it for a moment. "I'm not sure" he admitted.
She flicked through the pages in front of her, until she stopped on one and tapped it with her finger. "This says you're twenty four" she said suspiciously.
"Could be" he shrugged again.
She flicked through the notes some more, and started to read different pages, seeming to forget he was there.
"You never mentioned your name" Murphy interrupted.
"That's a shame" she said, not looking away from her notes.
"So is all of that about me?" He asked, prodding the paper with the edge of his mug.
She snatched the paper away and glared at him. "Do you mind" she snapped.
"Not particularly" he laughed. "So what are you here for?"
She organised the notes into a neat stack before addressing him. "I'm the poor soul that has been assigned to you" she said simply.
"That sounds concerning" he said with a raised eyebrow. "Why do I need a babysitter?"
"All wizards need a babysitter" she complained.
"I'm not a wizard" he defended. "Not yet anyhow."
"That's not what this says" she patted the stack of papers. "Technically, you're a wizard now" she sighed.
"That wasn't very hard" he boasted.
"I said technically" she assured. "It also says you don't know anything about magic."
"That's not true" he complained. "I know plenty about magic."
"Not enough to be a wizard."
"But I still know plenty."
"Either way" she said, holding out her hand. "You have caused me a mountain of paperwork, and you're a wizard now."
He looked at her hand, puzzled for a moment. He was about to shake it, but remembered his earlier interaction with Molten. He placed a gold coin into her hand instead. She looked at it for a moment, then placed it in a pocket on her skirt. Again, she held out her hand. "I need to see your medallion, to put your rank on it" she said with a smile.
He handed it to her, and she did something with her pen. There was a faint flash of white light, then she gave it back to him. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure" she said, as she stood to leave.
"Wait" he insisted.
She turned to look at him.
"Can I at least know my babysitters name?" He asked politely.
She looked him over again, but relented. "Call me Margo" she said, before turning again to leave.
Murphy watched her leave with an intense curiosity, among other motivations. She walked out the front door of the Tavern. Not a single patron attempted to fight her on the way out. He sipped at his mead with a smirk. That day had been an interesting day indeed.