Rum woke up to the smell of exotic sauces and fried shrimp. As he opened his eyes, his little brother Amez stood before him, grinning.
“You” Amez said “are a sound sleeper. I got you some food.” He gestured at a chair next to the bed, upon bowls of nutritious goodies. “Eat up and… can you please clean yourself up? My customer is here and while I’ll happily tell him I got my big brother staying over in the back of my shop, however right now, that looks like an excuse for me helping the homeless. And I don’t want to get a reputation for generosity. At least not more of a reputation…” Amez smiled and glanced away. “There is a rumor I am a bit loose-pursed when I get drunk.”
“Okay, I’ll clean myself up.” Rum leaned upright, feeling refreshed after a proper bed for a change, and sat over next to the chair, grabbing the food. “Do you have a place I can do that?” His right hand lifted a large spoon of sauce-covered rice to his open mouth, his left picking up and holding a couple of fried shrimps waiting for their turn.
“You could try the local baths down the front street of my shop. If I give you some money, you could sneak out the back door and get in there. Slip them some extra and they’ll also…” Amez looked skeptically over Rum’s clothing, “clean up your robe. Can’t do much about the long-term damage to it, a seamster will have to fix that, or replace it, but the people at the baths could clean some of your stains at least.”
“Okay” Rum said, slurping sauce. “Just give me the money, and I’ll go there when I’m finished.”
Amez looked at his brother eating. “Thank you, Rum. I figure you don’t care much about how you look and smell yourself, or how the tears in your robe are slowly undressing you. Ehem” he fake-coughed. “But MY world has a lot of people who probably will.”
“Yeah yeah, go take care of your customer.” Rum focused on his food, and Amez, staring a few seconds more at his brother, left.
Upon finishing Rum looked at the chair, and a small pile of silver coins. That was good money, money he hadn’t had in a long while. He stood up and was about to walk into the far back of the shop and out, but a thought came to him: could I fix myself up, with my own magic? He’d never really worried much about the problem, but right now it seemed like fixing clothing and cleaning his body would be useful spells for him to discover. Catching himself a step before he’d reach the back door, Rum decided not to do as he had told his little brother he would. Instead he looked around, and found a mirror in the spare bedroom lying in a corner. He picked it up, dusted it off and leaned it against the wall on a stool. Looking into it, Rum could clearly see that his face, robe, and everything was a total mess. I must look at least 10 years my senior.
Rum began pacing, back and forth, mumbling to himself. His thoughts burrowed quickly and seriously into the nature of cleanliness and the nature of fresh clothing. What separated bad odor from good? How would a spell make clothes into clean clothes? What does it really mean to have undamaged fabric? Rum stopped pacing. Instead he sat down on the bed, closed his eyes and sensed his mana, his magic. Mana needs structure. Mana needs discipline. But, it also needs autonomy. That’s something Rum had discovered by introspection years ago. The details of bending, twisting and shaping reality was something too much for any human mind to manage. But one couldn’t let the mana run loose either. The mana needed limits, paths to follow, and objectives that were practically solvable.
In the end Rum considered the human taste towards undamaged clothing itself, and of course the human taste for odors. The aesthetics of taste were not something straight-forward enough to make spells out of. Particularly since I, by all experience, have no taste at all. All I ask for in clothing is that it’s soft and shield me from the elements. Here, someone must help. I need to borrow someone’s taste. Rum considered this for a moment, then, he had an idea. Rum, flipping over into the ethereal parallell realm of magic, reached out into his surroundings. What I need is an aspect, some personality trait to encode into my spell. I need a spell to mimic personhood, to mimic taste. Rum’s tentacles of mana expanded in body, roaming, searching around the shop. My brother, his customer. Not enough taste. The mana reached out further and pursuied down the streets, tapping and testing shops, taverns, and then – a bathhouse. Rum sensed people, and going in to inspect, found a person that made him pause. There was a restlessness to this person, a focus of intensity – nay – as Rum watched it became clear that this person he was observing, a man, was obsessed with the dirt of the younger woman’s body that he was scrubbing. This man must loathe dirt, hate it. In his motions he seems beset on vanquishing all uncleanliness from her body. He dwelled on the man, studying him some more. When he was finished with the body, he walked over to a dress, and, grabbing it, set about rubbing a stain off his customer’s dress. A vanquisher of uncleanliness in clothing too, I see. As Rum became increasingly sure of his target, his mana latched onto his subject. Probing and grasping at his subject’s body and mind, he gradually, then suddenly, felt this Hater of The Unclean come under the totalizing arresting control of his mana – and collapse to the floor. For a second, Rum became concerned that he’d hurt the person. Others were clearly rushing towards the scene, as far as he could tell. However, Rum was not here to seize control of the man. I merely seek a copy of your hate for uncleanliness. Only a copy, fellow man, only the blueprints of your vengeful affection for cleanliness. For as is the case with most hate, I believe yours is a mirror to love, and in you, is a love for making things clean.
Unknown to the world, Rum touched The Hater’s mind, the cleaner’s instincts, desires and memories. From this Rum fashioned and conjured a ghost of mana, a spitting image of willpower made from loosely organized mana. Unleashing his control of the subject, Rum dragged the mana ghost onto the streets, along the way home, into Amez’s shop. Here is my ingredient – the crucial ingredient for a spell of cleanliness. Rum pulled the mana ghost into his mana pool; into his magical being. Here he held onto it, worked on it, structuring it into the shape of a projectable magical will, before finally bringing it into his mind as a permanent spell.
Rum opened his eyes, stood up and looked into the mirror: “Clean” he whispered. And a weak whirlwind of magic circled around him, creating a twister of air. Slowly, over a few seconds, Rum’s beard and hair was put into order. His skin polished clean and the dirt of his robes vanishing. Smiling at his success, he sat down eagerly on the bed, and reached out with his mana again – searching for a great seamster in the neighborhood. The process pretty much repeated itself. He found a great candidate. While he tried to be careful, unfortunately he momentarily gave this one a minor heart attack that made him very worried for a second, but the individual seemed fine as he dragged his second mana ghost back into the shop. Maybe from now on I should prepare people mentally first, and when I think about it... I should perhaps have asked for permission. This was overly selfish of me. Rum dwelled on the ethics of his new and powerful spell for a moment. In one sense, there is so much potential from such a spell, yet it is invasive, unpleasant, could even be dangerous. I must be more careful who I subject it to.
Completing his second spell, Rum rose up again from the bed and stood before the mirror, full of exhilarating expectations: “Renew Clothes” he whispered, and – the robe changed. Not only did it repair itself completely free of tears, though. Somehow, it also dyed itself, and Rum looked down at robe much fancier robe than he had before. The material seemed to be the same, but the dye had created detailed patterns of geometric figures and mystical landscapes on the surface. “Hah! Ha-ha!” Rum bursted with joy. It’s long since I’ve felt this fresh, this good, this handsome. Or at least less of the complete loser people usually see me as. With this look I’d definitely get into that tavern the bouncer tried to keep me out of.
Deciding he had to share his success, Rum opened the door into the work area of the shop. There Rum saw Amez, stretched over the back of a slightly small, topless woman lying on a table. On her, Rum’s brother was carving a large piece of bodily artwork.
“Back already?” Amez said, not taking eyes off his work. Rum smiled brightly, something Amez couldn’t see. But the woman looked up at him.
“Hi” she said, in a sort-of half-hearted way.
“Hey” Rum replied, oblivious to her tone. “Amez–” Rum continued, walking up to the other side of the customer, “–guess what I just figured out?”
“What?” Amez said softly, not looking up. “I just created two new spells! A cleaning spell, and a repair spell for clothes! I used them just now and they work phenomenally. Very easy to use, requires almost no effort, and the results are perfect.” He gestured to himself, even though Amez’s eyes were occupied. “Look!”
After a few seconds Amez finally looked up. His eyes took a moment to absorb Rum, and then they went wide with surprise. “You tell me you did that” he nodded towards Rum’s clothes, “just now?”
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“Yes!” Rum almost shouted with pride. “Oh wow” Amez said, “maybe you should try making money off of that. I know many people who would probably pay handsomely for having a quick fix like that available.”
At this Rum’s demeanor changed into a not-this-again-expression. “Look Amez” and Rum put his arms together over his belly, “I don’t need a job! I need to do research. And this was a fantastic piece of research!” He untied his arms and waved it around with one of them while talking. “What if I had spent my time magicking away people’s bad moods instead of spending time inventing amazing spells like this!? Eh? This spell would not had been invented, and the world would’ve been worse off for it. No. I’m needed for this new magic! Now, let’s talk less about my work and more about your work.” He gestured to the customer on the table. “What are you making for this woman?”
At this the lady turned her neck around as best as she could without moving her back, and replied in place of Amez. “This woman has a name, and it is Elrith Heart-Piercer. And it’s a name you should remember. I’ve pierced many hearts, with my little boy Martin over there.” She pointed across the room towards a huge crossbow leaning on the wall. “And what Amez is making for The Heart-Piercer is a tattoo that will allow me to fill my piercing bolts with Mana Bombs. It’s a very powerful enchantment, and GODS’ DAMN expensive. I’ve had to save up six months of dungeon loot in order to be able to afford this.” She threw a thumb over at her back.
Rum scanned the tattoo with some interest. “Well” Amez started, “you had to save up 6 months of dungeon loot because I’ve had to invent a brand new tattoo for you. That takes a lot of work. And so you can see Rum” Amez glanced at him, “you’re not the only one inventing things. Us working people also invent new stuff. This tattoo enchantment will allow her to quickly imbue up to 3 bolts with a Mana Bomb that detonates on high velocity impact. For a non-magical person she’s going to be carrying a huge pool of mana through this enchantment. It’s going to take you about 3 days though Elrith, for each Mana Bomb to fill up with your passive mana recovery. This enchantment will have to be your reserve weapon. Only for when you really need it.”
Nobody said anything. Elrith lay there quiet, being worked on. Amez continued on her back. Rum just stared at the work being done in quiet contemplation over the course of minutes.
“Inventing on the job.” Rum finally mumbled. “Heh. That could actually be quite stimulating to new ideas. But I’d need to have a job that is at least as varied as yours Amez. I can’t do a job where I just cast out spells like I was an industrial magic workshop! I need an environment conducive to creativity. What I need is a challenge!”
“Maybe you should try adventuring?” Elrith offered. “I’d say being threatened with dismemberment and death on a daily basis has made me very creative. It teaches me tactics, good reactions, and good habits. But most of all, it teaches me to constantly reevaluate myself, to think new. Like you want to do. I can see that you’re a mage of some kind, right? Why not try joining an adventuring team? A good mage is always in demand, not enough of the university students dare to enter the dungeons. They prefer for us to pay them for buffs and enchantments instead of getting in there and do the fights themselves.”
Rum didn’t immediately reply, and instead just looked up into the blue pondering and stroking his newly tidied beard. “I’m not really much of a fighter. It’s not that I’m afraid, before you jump to any conclusions! I’ve faced some terrible things over the years. I once outran a tree monster the size of barn, if a barn could stand. I just don’t like the part where you people kill the evil creatures. I prefer to leave them alone.”
At this Elrith leaned up a bit, causing Amez to say “ah-ah-ah!” for a brief second, before continuing. “You do realize that if we adventurers didn’t kill the evil creatures, you all here would suffer daily? We keep the evil lords at bay, and trim the numerous lairs of goblins before they manage to form hordes. You know the history, don’t you? Three hundred years ago, dungeon lords, with hordes of goblins, completely destroyed and plundered the three lost cities, a fact most people seem to forget. The three lost cities to the south are now just big ruins, besides the elves, and some of the older smallfolk, there’s barely anyone still alive to remember the details. But goblins still build lairs there, on our doorstep, trying to expand, and magelords still build new dungeons there. You might even run into necromancers, or evil witches and evil wizards. But nobody from Ermos can go there anymore, except those who dare the danger, like us. Ermos City was created by the few people who survived that invasion, you should recall that mage. So – to be an adventurer is one of the greatest callings you can have! If it weren’t for the adventurers creating the adventurer guilds and organizing our dungeon dives and raids: today there could’ve been four lost cities.”
Rum stared into her eyes, stroking his beard and considering her words. Eventually he took his hand away from his beard and started playing with the silver coins he had in his hand. “Oh, that reminds me!” He said, looking down at the coins. He handed them over to Amez. “Here’s your money! I didn’t need them, so you can have them back.”
Amez looked up and at the hand for a second, then shook his head. “No, you keep them. You’re going to need some money soon enough. And this way you don’t have to ask me for any.”
“You know” Elrith Heart-Piercer began, a hint of temptress in her voice, “dungeons offer lots of loot – for a good mage. Good money loot too. Also, as I just said, it’s a very honourable profession. You will do something good: protect people. And get rich doing it – aaand – get some inspiration.” She nodded at him meaningfully.
Rum returned his hand to his beard, stroking it some more. “Huuuh. Let’s say I might be interested in trying that out. How would I go get a team to do dungeons with?”
“Oh! Glad you are interested!” And for the first time Elrith smiled, The Heart-Piercer’s successful enticement clearly changing her mood. “You know, my team is in need of a good mage. Are you a good mage… what was your name?”
“My name’s Rum. Amez here is my little brother. I’m visiting him.”
“Oh, Amez’s brother! That’s interesting Amez, didn’t know you had a brother.” She met her artist’s eyes.
“He’s been gone for 6 years,” Amez started, just a tiny hint of annoyance in his voice “so honestly I didn’t know entirely either.”
“Oh. Well, Rum. What’s your level? You know any useful spells?”
“My level” Rum began with a little bit of a pained grimace, “is something of a mystery to me really.”
“What do you mean? What is your level?” Elrith raised an eyebrow.
“It’s lower than you’d expect, but my level doesn’t reflect my real usefulness. At least it shouldn’t. I think I’m a lot more capable than my level would suggest.”
“Which is?”
“Uuuhm…” Rum held his breath, hesitating, “8” he sighed outwards.
“What!? Just 8? That’s way too low for dungeon dives. Sorry but we won’t be needing you” Elrith shook her head and went back to resting on Amez’s table, a disappointed expression on her face.
“But I swear!” Rum exclaimed. “I am much more capable than my level would suggest. Didn’t Amez just tell you how I’ve been gone for 6 years? I’ve practically lived the life of a solo adventurer already! I have lots of experience with survival against nature, people, beasts and monsters. My magic is so sought after in fact, that I’ve been paid hundreds of gold just for a single spell!”
“Alright” The Heart-Piercer gave in, and pushed herself slightly up again, producing another “ah ah ah” warning from Amez. “Answer my previous question: do you know any useful spells?”
“Spells… Like what?”
“You know: healing, attacks, traps, buffs, debuffs – conjuring weapons. That sort of thing.”
“Well…” Rum started, a bit uncertain of himself. “My spells work a bit different than most normal spells. Most of them were created for survival. But I’m quite adaptable! I could probably heal minor wounds pretty good. I’ve had to deal with a lot of bruises, cuts, and those sorts. I don’t really have any offensive spells right now.”
Elrith looked at him, quite unimpressed. “But why–” Rum continued, almost a little bit desperate to sell his worth as an adventurer, “–don’t you tell me a spell you’d want to have. And maybe I could get that spell, very quickly.”
“Oh” she said, a bit surprised. She, like most people in Ermos, were not used to being able to wish for and pick spells like they were colors off a palette, or the shapes of a piece of bakery. Everybody knew that magic was difficult and demanded many years of study. It wasn’t something one just picked up. One couldn’t just open a spellbook one day, practice a bit and then know the spell. But Elrith wasn’t one to argue, so she just lay down again, thinking loudly. “Hmm, we are going to Jorteg’s Dungeon tomorrow. That’s a level 30-40 dungeon. It’s not a particularly difficult dungeon, but occasionally Jorteg – the dungeon lord that rules over that place – will have some witches that can be quite tough to bring down. Inexperienced groups have been killed by the surprising abilities of these witches. They are particularly good at mind spells and lightning spells. The mind spells can make you confused, so you don’t know who you are or who anyone else are. The lightning spells are pretty nasty too. They build prisons out of lightning enchantments, to catch prey for ritual sacrifices. They use people as components for magic – totally disgusting. They also turn our weapons and armor against us by temporarily filling them with lightning effects. In battle we may have to strip away all our metal weapons and metal armor, or else we’ll be slowly shocked to death by our own gear. Those witches are nasty people.”
“If–” and she looked up into Rum’s eyes, quite serious, “–you think you could make a spell to counteract those witch spells. If you did that, I’d want you on our team for sure. Otherwise, if you can’t really help much I suggest you go down to the guild hall of Ermos’ Finest Adventurers. That’s the name of the guild by the way, they have some starter programs for beginning adventurers. They’ll help you put a team together and maybe you’ll start off destroying some roaming skeletons.”
Playing some more with his beard, Rum eventually answered. “I think I could arrange something that’d work against confusion and lightning. Could you give me at least a day? I’ll get started right on it! Just tell me where you guys are meeting next and I’ll show up with the spells, if I can get them in time. If I’m not there, you can leave without me.”
“Okay” she said, willing to play along, if only out of curiosity. Rum sensed her lack of faith in him. “Meet us outside of Ermos’ Statues of Heroes. Tomorrow before noon. You know the place?”
Rum nodded. He might’ve been gone for some time, but he still basically knew the city. Even if its people had changed a bit in the last 6 years, the basic outline of the city was the same. The Statues of Heroes were a selection of past great warriors that had defeated the horde that Elrith spoke about. Yes, he already knew the stories. After all, history had been a favorite subject of his. Even if it had been focused on magical history, it did discuss some of the great mages of the past who had statues of themselves among what was essentially a large garden just inside the city’s southern main entrance.