Sweat dripped down my forehead as I let out a low, shaking breath.
My legs had fallen asleep, and a persistent ache settled behind my eyes, which appeared an hour earlier, but both sensations sat in the back of my mind. Instead, I focused on four green glowing orbs that rotated between my outstretched hands.
This exercise focused on creating and controlling multiple mana constructs. You could manipulate dozens or even hundreds of complex constructs as skill increased, but my limit was four at best. Still, though I might never reach such a pinnacle, gaining improved control was helpful in the immediate future.
Mana Bolt was my best or, rather, only offensive spell. I had a few ideas to improve it, but increasing the number was the most obvious option. After all, if a single bolt could punch through wood, what would two do? Or three?
Granted, four Bolts at once would eat through a full third of my mana reserves, but that woeful lack of efficiency was fixable. I would rather be alive, exhausted, and irritated than dead.
Unfortunately, my mind wandered despite my efforts to remain focused and stay busy.
I should have dragged those thieves to the city guard and had them face justice. It would have drawn more attention to me, an unpleasant consequence, but it would have spared future victims. After all, they had not failed due to a lack of trying. So, why had I let them go?
Leon would call it compassion or mercy and praise my restraint with a warm smile and a kind word. Girem would name me a coward and ridicule me for leaving a potential threat free to roam. The second one rang true in my ears.
I could understand desperation, but empathy was not my motivation. The shameful truth was that it served me better to turn a blind eye.
What did that say about me?
One sphere sputtered, the edges wavering, and I cursed, returning my focus to the task. A moment later, a second began to wobble, and a third followed, its light flickering like a candle. I sighed and relaxed, releasing my flagging control over the mana. All four broke into green clouds which sparkled in the dim candlelight.
I stood and stretched before walking to my bed and lying down. A few minutes of rest would clear my thoughts, and I could return to practice with a clear mind and renewed focus.
A hard knock at my door jarred me awake. I glanced at the window and sighed at the light streaming into my room before standing and stretching.
I walked to the door, scanning for a mana signature before opening it. Nick stood outside, one hand raised to knock again and the other holding a wooden tray with a plate, pitcher, glass, and utensils.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning to you as well, Nick," I replied, smiling. "How can I help you?"
"Breakfast, of course, and news about the mines. You said you wanted me to ask about, right sir?" Nick glanced down the hallway before leaning in closer, "Glowin' waters and such?"
The discretion was appreciated, but it would do nothing to slow down a spy. Magic made lowered voices a trivial concern.
"What did they say?"
"A friend of mine would like to meet today, sir. They're willin' to talk with you, but..." Nick trailed off.
"But?"
Nick straightened his back, his eyes briefly dropping to the floor before focusing on me, "There were talks about payment, sir."
"Ah," I said. It was an obvious problem and yet another I should have predicted. Based on what I had left...
"When can we set off?" I asked.
"Whenever you're finished with breakfast, sir. My son can watch the front desk while we're away."
I took the tray and thanked the older man again before closing the door. As I picked at my breakfast, I felt almost grateful I had slept through the night. Something told me rest would be a rarity for the rest of my time in Aresford.
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Two things ran through my mind as sunlight peeked through folds of thick canvas.
The first was an academic interest in Ferris' economic structures. I had known for years that Aresford was a trade hub representing a nexus of stone, ore, and refined metal production. Walking through the streets and watching workshops, warehouses, and forges work night and day confirmed as much. But this was another thing entirely.
My covered wagon was one of a hundred traveling north to the mines. Some ferried workers dressed in thick, protective clothing. Others held tools, mining equipment, uniforms, dried food, water barrels, rope, oil, wood, and so on. Through the gap in the canvas covering, I could see a matching line of carts heading back to the city.
The second thought was an appreciation for the finer things in life. I vowed to never take proper ventilation and personal hygiene for granted again. In fact, if I ever grew wealthy enough, making baths and soaps accessible across the land seemed a worthwhile goal. Body odor had a way of slipping your mind until you were stuck in an enclosed space with a dozen other people.
When Nick and I arrived to hitch a ride with the miners, several stared at me. They continued to stare for some time, but I busied myself with my notes and ignored their whispering.
The first mention of a magical pool came several hundred years ago. A researcher had traveled north, plotting out ley lines for future cities. It was a tedious job but crucial for future development. Nearly every major Ferren city sat atop a nexus of multiple lines to maximize ambient mana.
While following one, which carried pure Aether, the researcher found a pool of glowing green waters. It possessed a potent mana signature, and the man spent several days studying it to ply its secrets.
After he finished, the man concluded a ley line had drawn close to the surface and 'burst' free into an existing pool. This pool had somehow become magical and now bore a strange affinity for Aether. The researcher, a poor alchemist by his own admissions and unable to learn more, left notes for future investigations and continued on his original task.
Decades later, another mage had stumbled onto his notes and decided to follow up herself. This woman was an expert alchemist and spent nearly a year studying, testing, and attempting to replicate the water's effects.
The woman concluded that years of slow exposure had caused the Aether and water to stabilize, creating a natural elixir. She hypothesized it would substantially strengthen an Aether mage, possibly even permanently bolstering their mana density by a fractional margin.
She also hypothesized that it risked destabilizing a core, could cause strain and injury with overuse, and would either barely help or outright poison any other mage. While the researcher seemed to gain some insights, she found its utility marginal.
Although unique, the pool was too remote and useless for all but a small handful of mages. It was one of a hundred strange magical phenomena spread across a continent and faded from living memory. In the modern era, only inquisitive scholars and bored young apprentices might stumble upon a mention of it.
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But I was a part of that small handful. I could not buy or make elixirs to enhance my growth. I could not obtain proper tutoring or the slow, plodding progress spread across decades that most mages pursued. Not unlike the desperate men who had resorted to theft a night earlier, desperation drove me to dangerous alternatives.
I was just finishing cross-referencing my notes with a sketched map of Aresford when I heard a shout from outside. The cart began to rumble, and I leaned forward, looking past the other men and toward the driver.
A hand grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back into my seat. Workers shuffled past me, some grunting and grumbling as they jumped out of the cart. I glanced at Nick, who stood and gestured for me to follow before exiting himself.
Outside, I found myself in a massive clearing hundreds of feet wide. The ground beneath my feet was bare and hard-packed from generations of boots, hooves, and wheels. A path wide enough to fit four wagons side by side cut through the snowy forest south to Aresford. Directly ahead of me were wooden buildings clustered into something halfway between a camp and a town.
Hundreds of workers swarmed between those buildings and twin rows of carts. They resembled ants in a colony, and no less than five bumped me as they practically ran past Nick and me. Worse, not one offered an apology or backward glance. I respected the focus, though not the poor manners.
As my gaze wandered over the crowd, I noticed something else. Guards patrolled the outer edge of the workers, clad in leather-backed metal armor and armed with spears, swords, shields, and crossbows.
Ferris lacked a proper standing army. While it possessed a small military, these forces tended to patrol and guard the southern and eastern borders. Typical doctrine used them to monitor and delay threats until battle and war mage forces could arrive. Because of this, towns relied on volunteers or small, paid guard forces, while cities used soldiers loyal to the strongest noble families.
However, even in the poorest of towns, the guards did not generally look like they were a single strong gust from falling over.
Even at a distance, I noted deep grooves cut into metal plates and cracks in wooden shields. Cloaks looked torn, and white bandages peeked out beneath clothes and armor. One man half-leaned on his spear as he walked, his right leg catching with each step, and another had his left arm in a sling.
Nick walked to stand beside me, and I inclined my head towards the nearest guard.
"Trouble?"
Nick winced, then responded, "Better to hear from the foreman."
I nodded, and we made our way to the camp proper. As we walked, I finally got a good look at the mountains.
I had never before seen an illustration of the famed northern mountain ranges. Objectively, I knew most Ferren ore and stone came from the region, which created a fantastical image in my mind. I had pictured towering, titanic peaks piercing the sky like a spear. Their summits would vanish into the clouds, and their bases would be as wide as the horizon.
The reality fell short.
Each mountain was short and wide, closer to huge hills than anything. The nearest was the tallest, but none looked towering. However, their span was undoubtedly impressive. The entire range stretched to cover the horizon, from west to east, in an unbroken line.
Even at a distance, I could make out dark gray craggy sides and a crown of white. Wooden structures covered the nearest face, with ramps, pulleys, lifts, and stairs leading to rounded, black spots, which I assumed were tunnels. Based on the size of the workers, they had to be at least ten feet wide.
The camp consisted of one- and two-story squares and rectangles. I could see signs for barracks, several stables, and even two separate taverns. Nick explained that some miners preferred to sleep at the mines, which allowed them to work longer and earn more.
The most prominent building sat in the center of the camp. It was also two stories but attached to several nearby structures, forming a particularly large and misshapen mass of wood and stone tiling. Men and women clustered around it, and several workers stood outside, shouting and pointing towards or away from the mountains.
As we drew within fifty feet, I heard something else. The background noise of the camp and workers fell away, and I noticed a soft, distant rumbling under my feet. I stopped and glanced around, searching for the source. After a few seconds, I realized the truth.
It was mana.
I knelt on the ground and placed one hand against the icy dirt. Power rippled up and into my body, reverberating like a drum as ambient mana was tugged in a hundred directions. When I closed my eyes, the different elements danced through the air, almost tangible.
Foremost was a heavy, overbearing weight that pushed against my senses. A cold, unyielding sensation was nearly as abundant, followed by two others, one restless and ceaselessly shifting and the other gently ebbing and flowing through the air. Lastly, a fleeting feeling of warmth grew only to fade as I focused on it.
Underneath it all was a familiar feeling. I could sense weak hints of Aether, a familiar sense of pure energy that led in two directions, one further north and the other twisting southwest. If my research was accurate, then I could-
A hand landed on my shoulder, jarring me from my thoughts. I jumped and opened my eyes to find Nick staring down at me. One eyebrow was raised, and I got the impression he had been speaking to me for some time.
"Did you say something?"
Nick frowned, "I asked if you were alright, sir? You weren't moving and-"
"Yes, yes. This is all just a bit..." I trailed off and gestured to the camp.
Nick's frown was replaced by a smile, and he chuckled, "Feels like home to me. But let's get outta the cold, sir."
Two guards armed with spears stood outside of the main building. One of them raised an eyebrow, then smiled and transferred his spear to his left hand before extending his right.
"Nick! Nick to see ya. Miss us that much you gotta come and visit?"
"How you been, Fumbles?" Nick replied, jabbing the guard in the stomach with his free hand. The other man nearly dropped his spear, taking two steps back and laughing as he caught it a moment before it fell to the dirt.
The other guard rolled his eyes, trying to look stern as he turned to me.
"Apologies, sir. How can I-"
"We're here to see Rowen," Nick interrupted, gesturing towards the building behind the guards.
"Right. Head on in, then."
Inside the building was a mess of people, desks, and chairs. Workers moved about, examining maps and boards along the walls, pinning scraps of paper, scrawling notes, and sealing letters. I could make out schedules and other numbers, but nothing decipherable without further examination.
Nick weaved through the crowd with surprising alacrity, and I followed him to the back of the room, where a staircase led upstairs. The second floor comprised a sitting room and a door, which Nick knocked on. A moment later, a voice shouted, "Come in!"
We entered a large office with a rug, a desk, and two chairs. A map covered the entire left wall, presumably a copy of the one below, but cleaner and neater. Two people stood beside the map, with the larger of the two examining it. After a moment, he turned and said something to the other, who nodded once before hurrying past us and out of the room.
When the door clicked shut, the man turned to face us. He wore earth-toned, multi-layered clothes made of thick cloth emblazoned with a noble crest on the left side of his chest. He was of average height but heavily built, with dark red-and-gray hair, a matching beard, and a lined face that suggested he was in his late thirties to early forties.
He resembled the miners in every regard, save for two distinctions. First, his clothes were clean and new, without any of the patched tears, worn seams, frayed sleeves, or stains like the other workers. Second, there was a bronze oval with a single star in the center embroidered on the upper arms of both sleeves.
The man smiled as he walked around the desk and held a hand to Nick, "Great to see you, Nick."
"You too, Rowen," Nick replied as he grabbed the man's hand with a smile of his own, "How's the new job treatin' ya?"
"Never thought I'd see the day where I'd miss the mines," Rowen chuckled, then turned to face me and held out a hand, "Rowen, foreman of the Cragrock Mines."
"Vayne," I took his hand and held back a wince as the man did his best to crush my hand into a fine powder. Why was it that every person I met thought that was appropriate?
Thankfully, Rowen took mercy after a second and released my hand before leaning against his desk.
"The story goes, you've been asking about our local oddity. That the long and short of it?"
"Yes. And I have heard you know where to find it and will guide me there." I responded before adding, "For a price."
Rowen nodded, "Fifty gold pieces."
Was it possible I was still back at the inn, trapped in the throes of a horrific, unreasonably expensive nightmare? That would be a damning indictment of my mental state, but it seemed marginally less ridiculous.
"That seems a little unreasonable for such a job," I replied, "I am sure we can-"
Rowen raised a hand, "I understand you're a mage and a busy young man. I know I'm busy, though not so young anymore, so I won't waste our time. The forests out here are dangerous. They're dense, cold, and filled with things that aren't friendly at the best of times. You'd need a guide, and if I take that risk, I need to know it's worth it. Fifty gold."
"I understand your position, but respectfully, fifty gold for such a small job is outrageous. It would be a single day of your time. I doubt you would make as much in two years of working in these mines. Besides, what guarantee do I have that we are discussing the same place?"
Rowen's face hardened, "I'm not lying. I've seen it myself."
"Of course not," I said, "But you are not a mage, are you? We might be discussing two entirely different things."
"Two different glowing ponds in the same place?" Rowen asked with a chuckle.
"There are a hundred bizarre magical events across Ferris," I responded, "A city to the southeast never experiences winter. A waterfall rumored to exist in the eastern wilds flows up instead of down. I once read a story about a forge whose fire has been burning for nearly a century without flickering once. Would two glowing pools really be that rare? Either way, you ask me to pay a king's ransom on blind faith."
Rowen rubbed his beard, seeming briefly off balance, and I pressed, "Now, as I said, maybe we can discuss it further and come to a-"
Before I could continue, there was a noise from outside. At first, it was too difficult to make out, but soon, it resolved into something recognizable.
Screams.