The boy looked different from the first time she’d seen him. If he had been proactive since his awakening there was every chance that he had become something different; something more than human. It was, however, rare for someone to look quite so distinguishably different in such little time.
Tied loosely across his torso, a dark apron covered most of him to his mid-thigh, where an assortment of metallic handles stuck out from a wide pocket in the middle of the garment. The fabric looked thick and leathery but the material was clearly something else. From the little information she had gleaned from Tiera, she imagined this was the boy’s handy work. It wasn’t a hard presumption to make. The young mage now sported a sharp pair of jean-shorts that he hadn’t been wearing earlier.
If there had been a circular guild emblem hanging from the boy’s garment, she may have thought it was a standard issue. Although she was sure it lacked the durability other blacksmiths' aprons possessed, it looked near enough identical. If that was the case, then the peculiar metallic handles poking their way out of the front pouch were also likely to be the boy’s handiwork too.
‘He has been busy,’ Suzia thought, reappraising the boy's effort with a new eye.
Aside from the wardrobe update, Otis stood out like a sore thumb amongst the more worldly mages. His posture held an exhausted bend to it. He looked fragile. Besides the light blue that now framed his eyes and throat, it was his aura that stood out to Suzia. As a healer, she had become increasingly aware of how creatures and people felt. In Otis’ case, his body was screaming for sustenance. Her stomach twisted as her own insides churned sympathetically. How much had he accomplished without anyone monitoring him? As a healer, as soon as the boy was within her senses, she could feel the gnawing sensations that drained him for herself.
“Otis?” Suzia called, “now... what have you been up to?”
Her tone of voice reminded Otis of when someone was trying to see what was in their pet’s mouth.
“It’s nice to see a friendly face,” Otis smiled, warmly, when he matched the voice to the face.
He hadn’t had much to do with the healer but she was nice. She had “un-minced” him and undoubtedly saved his life. He had been longer acquaintances with people who had done far less.
“Mhm, you look like you’ve been busy?”
“Yeah, I figured it out,” a pride blossomed forward on Otis’ pale face.
Suzia smiled as the words came out of his mouth. She had heard them countless times, each with the same boundless enthusiasm.
“You’ve figured it out?”
“Well, not everything but I got a level in my skill and I’ve been testing a lot of theories about how stuff works… I even made some stuff”
Otis patted his apron and took out a push dagger, to show off. Each of the daggers was mostly the same. There were slight alterations in the method Otis had taken when compared to the first iteration, but this was more about efficient mana usage than changing the design in any meaningful way.
“…even if I can’t imagine the amount of work that it will take to create one of those automaton things but ya know… baby steps.”
“Ah, so clever and yet so dumb,” Suzia chuckled.
“But I…”
Suzia took the push dagger from him, turning it over in her hands. It felt firm but light and didn’t want to swivel from her grip. In every respect, for a level 1 mage, it was a good rouge-type weapon.
“It’s actually a pretty clever design you’ve thought through… if I didn’t out-level you so drastically you’d certainly be a threat.”
“I figured it’d give me the best chance of fighting back,” Otis said, reluctantly grinning at Suzia’s appraisal.
“A very good start to what I hope is a very long journey,” the healer replied, twirling the blade in her hand. “But, as I believe you earthlings say ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’. You can’t do everything all at once and certainly not without food.”
Looking Otis over it was clear he wasn’t injured but he’d still end up dead if he continued to neglect himself. It wasn’t his fault, Suzia knew that. The Veil didn’t tell newly awakened mages anything, as was the policy of most sects, groups, and cults. Figuring it all out for yourself generally led to rapid improvement and innovation, without old beliefs standing in the way. Unfortunately, this punished the truly exceptional and hardworking the most.
“Mana is like uranium. It can produce world-changing effects but it has a cost, especially for low-level mages.”
Linking arms with the young mage, Suzia guided him through the labyrinth of passageways.
“So… there’s a waste product and it needs a filter?” Otis asked.
The healer kept her gaze ahead, as they walked. She knew the boy needed to figure things out for himself, but there was every likelihood he could be too talented… too determined, for his own good.
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Otis pulled one of the push daggers from its pouch, before staring at the tip. In the sliver of polished tip, he saw his reflection for the first time; the blue veins, and sunken eyes, the pale extreme his skin had reached.
“… or radiation.”
“It’s not too bad yet, but yeah you look pretty rough,” Suzia laughed, “almost didn’t recognise you.”
Mortified, Otis pulled at his skin. It felt like a lead weight had dropped in his stomach. He looked like death. How long would he be like this for? How close had he come to literally working himself to death? It wasn’t just cults and monsters that wanted to kill him but the power that was meant to help him.
“You’ll build up a tolerance as you level up and it’s really fixable. Stop with the thousand-yard stare over,” Suzia jostled him. His vaguely traumatised expression made her giggle.
“But over-exposure is a very real threat and one you’re going to need to balance, with rest and recovery.”
As if to emphasise her point as they rounded the final corner, the mess hall bloomed to life.
The throng of the hall was immense compared to even the busiest of guilds that Otis had seen. Unkempt, it had the look of a medieval tavern. Aged woods and brass made up almost all of the surfaces, ornaments, and fittings. Candlelight appeared to be the only source of illumination but, staring around the room, pockets of subdued lighting illuminated the room from a hidden source.
Long benches took up the middle of the room. Rounded tables were set back into alcoves around the large room, with slighter nooks tucked away for those in smaller or more intimate groups. Most of the mages either had flagons with a vividly coloured liquid or were dining on something.
“I- uh. I think I’m kinda skint here,” Otis said, an old plastic ten-pound note clutched in his hands.
“Sit down… and they wouldn’t take your earth money,” Suzia chuckled, gesturing to the end seats of a long central table. Otis’ naivety was refreshing after so long.
Otis took a seat on the wooden bench, perching on a stool that resembled more of a stump. The wood moulded to his form, becoming one of the most comfortable chairs the boy had sat on. It morphed slowly, like a memory foam pillow seeking out the most supportive way to cradle him.
“This place is nice. It’s definitely not what I expected, but I like it,” Otis said with a smile.
Working at the rate he had, Otis felt like he was running on empty. He was tired and now he felt it coming over him in waves.
“What does it look like?”
As if Suzia had just started to eat mud, Otis couldn’t hold back the look of incredulity. How was he meant to answer that? She must have been here countless times over the years and yet somehow her shit-eating grin only grew.
“I- what do you mean?”
“To me, it’s bright, the tables are sleek and polished, and the alcoves have windows to different landscapes. Now you?”
What Suzia had described simply didn’t exist.
“Should have read the boooook,” Suzia sang.
It turned out that the mess hall was one of the most heavily enchanted spaces available within The Veil. Laying eyes on the room, each person saw a scene that gave them comfort. This effect was designed to set at ease anyone who entered its walls. Without this hub of arcane revitalisation, Suzia didn’t believe that there would be any Knight of The Veil left sane. Fortunately, the mess hall was one of the few sections within The Veil that had been spared from the last attack. As one of the consistently populated areas within the sect, it was also one of the most well-defended.
“It’s probably the influence of fantasy games that’s made it so rustic”
As the pair had discussed the different ways the mess hall had revealed itself to them, the room had prepared a variety of concoctions to quell their fatigue and support their developments.
From Otis’ perspective, the table grew root-like structures, which intertwined to make a simple bowl and cup. Within the crockery, food and drink then grew like fungus before taking on a more appealing shape. In between mouthfuls of broth, Otis felt reinvigorated and somehow light were every slurp. Compared to the healer’s mana-rich experience, the mess hall had prepared something Suzia identified as mana-absorbent. Although only sparingly used, minuscule mana-sensitive granules would likely be in his food. Working with his body’s natural process of filtering the mana, it would absorb mana until it was passed. The mess hall could only do so much, but for the next 48 hours his overinfused body would be slowly drained of excess mana.
“So… I guess Thescene… and Tiera can use a lot… more mana, right?”
“Magnus above, who taught you manners?”
Suzia was aghast but Otis couldn’t help. Thrown into a world of magic, monsters, and barely surviving first contact and he was getting admonished for his table manners. Despite the boy’s indulgence Suzia only winced at the sight. She could literally feel how each slurp was flooding him with energy.
“There are beings that can use mana almost indefinitely without consequence but you are far far away from these behemoths. Even still, if such titans ever fought directly again the very fabric of reality would be torn asunder. Planets would be destroyed but, as far as I know, even they could not fight forever.”
Mana was a powerful tool but, as Suzia informed him, it was also dangerous. Most people acclimatised to mana over years but Otis had tried to start at break-neck speeds, as was the burden of late bloomers to the arcane worlds. She had equated it to drinking water. Enough to keep you hydrated was fine but too much and you’d suffer from swelling of the brain. Too much of anything was dangerous, especially to lower-level individuals.
Most mages would begin their training around the age of ten, so there wasn’t the need to train with the same vigour Otis had. This meant they had a little and often approach that was far more conducive to safely building a solid foundation.
Warning of the various dangers and how he’d be cooked from the inside out before he reached level 5, Suzia’s lecture had been oddly nice. They reminded Otis of his grandfather's soft voice, as he taught him to polish the old silverware and told him old myths. It hadn’t been long in his new magical reality but it had been far longer since he’d been able to go home.
“Don’t let me catch you in such a state, again, silly.”
“I’ll try,” Otis sighed. He wasn’t lying but he knew himself well enough to know he’d be overexerted, imminently.
“Good luck,” Suzia smiled before she made her leave, unable to stay idle and away from the busy healers' guild for too long.
———————————
Filled to the brim, the new mage basked in his surroundings. The fantasy tavern design decor made him chuckle, he was a nerd and a “wizard”, for lack of a better term. It was a dream come true, despite his loneliness.
Scanning a notice board with requests, quests, and upcoming events it was only then Otis felt a shift in his surroundings. Looking at the throng of mages, it was subtle. It Wasn’t everyone but sometimes he’d catch it: A stare, a glance, a sneer. Fleeting as it might be, with Suzia gone so too was his protection.
At the far end of the mess hall, one particular set of eyes didn’t stray from him. Despite passing mages intermittently breaking the line of sight, these eyes didn’t budge. Doused in hate, Otis felt his spine grow cold. The Veil suddenly didn’t feel quite so safe.