The Cherrytown mages’ guild was deathly quiet this evening. Usually the large lobby would be abuzz with wizards trading in knowledge, secrets, and gossip as the day wound to a close. After all, an informed mage was a prepared mage, and a prepared mage was a successful mage, so regularly comparing notes with others was widely considered a good practice. Some might even call it essential. And yet, the Ordo Mystica’s main lobby was utterly devoid of the usual mix of muttering voices, rustling papers, fluttering robes, and clattering staves. The only people Fifteen saw as she entered the building were two staff members. The first was Doretta, an elderly custodian who had worked here longer than anyone. She was tending to the decorative plants at the edges of the spacious chamber and exchanged polite nods with Fifteen as she approached the other employee on duty.
Curiously, it wasn’t Daisy behind the receptionist’s desk. That was odd. It should have been her shift. Her absence was a bit concerning, but also a relief. It wasn’t as if the Sage particularly disliked Daisy. If anything, she quite liked her professional and disciplined demeanor as it meant she performed her tasks accurately and efficiently. However, that also made their interactions rather awkward, no matter how brief. Her being a water wizard didn’t exactly help, either. Most people who knew Daisy’s element were always on pins and needles around her, especially since she was given special permission by the guild to subdue any troublemakers with her magic if need be. Fifteen wasn’t particularly worried, though. She was quite careful when it came to regulations and paperwork, so she was confident that she’d never get on Daisy’s bad side.
But since the usual receptionist wasn’t here, it meant the sorceress would be dealing with Emerick. He was a handsome man about her age, with swept-back brown hair, a stylish pencil-thin mustache, and a slender frame wrapped in a no-nonsense vest-and-shirt uniform. His element was earth, and his personality was the polar opposite of Daisy’s. He was casual and lax with everything and everyone, and even the socially challenged Sage of the Sands found him easy to deal with on a personal level.
“Oh! Welcome back, Acolyte Two-Fifteen!”
That chipper greeting and refreshing grin were completely unlike his counterpart’s lifeless business smile. It was a warm expression that made Fifteen feel like she could talk to him about anything, so she got right to the point. Well, not immediately. Even it the place was empty, shouting at each other from across the lobby wasn’t exactly proper. So, Fifteen first hobbled over to Emerick’s desk, her prosthetic making loud bumping noises with every alternate step. Normally her gait would be a lot smoother, but the artificial limb had its foot broken off at the ankle, reducing it to a slightly-too-short peg-leg. The receptionist raised a quizzical eyebrow at the pronounced limp, but waited patiently for Fifteen to get near and reply to his greeting.
“Hello, Emerick,” she bowed briefly. “Where’s Daisy?”
“She’s busy helping Ms. Bromley’s recovery.”
“The Sky Dancer?”
“Indeed. That poor girl,” the receptionist looked deeply concerned.
“What happened?”
He looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot – a pointless gesture, but he was dramatic like that – then leaned in and lowered his voice.
“You heard about the attack on the duke’s estate?”
“Yes.”
It was impossible not to. She heard all about it from that chatty cherry farmer along the highway and then again from the guards at the gate. She didn’t even ask, they just pulled her aside and filled her in. She was grateful for the heads-up, but not at all certain what the incident had to do with her. After all, it had gone down while she was still traveling back from the Armal Mountains. That unprompted yet enlightening briefing was why the Sky Dancer’s name was fresh in her mind, though her involvement remained unclear.
“Poor Ms. Bromley was enthralled by a water witch, you see,” Emerick filled her in. “A fairly powerful one at that. Daisy’s trying to undo the damage. Good news is she’s expected to make a full recovery.”
Unsurprising. She didn’t look like it, but Daisy was probably the most gifted water mage in Cherrytown. She even reached Master Magus while she was still on the grind, placing her one rank above a Senior Magus like Fifteen and a step below from the highly-coveted Archmagus title. Why someone like her retired from active duty to work a desk job was a mystery that Fifteen dreaded to find the answer to.
“Bad news is,” the man continued, “it’ll take a while since we don’t know what spells were used to do the deed.”
“Why not?”
Surely Daisy would have no trouble ‘persuading’ those details out of the perpetrator.
“Witch hunter had to go lethal. Those fools took the duke’s family hostage and didn’t give him a choice.”
“Huh.”
Now that was a bit of a shock. The church’s bloodhounds had an intense reputation, but they weren’t supposed to actually kill their targets unless it was a last resort. They always accepted surrender even though the witches rarely offered it. Or so Fifteen had heard. She had never met a witch hunter in person and she hoped she never would. Those people only had one reason to interact with spellcasters, and it wasn’t to chat about the weather. But, much as with Daisy, the Sage of the Sands wasn’t too worried since she was confident in her ability to not cause trouble with the guild or church. Not intentionally, at least.
“Nasty business, but I’d rather talk about you. How’d you find the Armal Mountains?”
Emerick pulled back and abruptly changed the subject to something less troublesome. This was why Fifteen liked him, and in some ways idolized him. He was much more of a ‘people person’ than she could ever hope to be. It was just too bad he was also a slacker and extremely nosy at times, but nobody was perfect.
“Cold, and wet,” she answered curtly.
“Not your cup of tea then, eh? Well, you haven’t lost any more limbs so it couldn’t have been too rough.”
The sorceress nodded and handed him the relevant paperwork – both the small receipt for the elemental bounty and the larger form outlining the demolition field job. A quick and practiced skim told him everything he needed to know.
“Oh, me, oh, my. An entire lodge in one spell? I knew you were strong, but that’s got to be some kind of record.”
She couldn’t help but smile a little under her mask, though she quickly moved on and placed a lead-lined canteen on his desk.
“What’s this?”
“Spring water sample from the elementals’ nest. Suspect curative properties. Should get it analyzed.”
“Well, doesn’t that sound exciting? I’ll make sure it gets to the right people. Anything else before I go fetch your payment?”
“Yes. Have you seen Azyra?”
“I did, actually. Kind of had to. She caused a ruckus at the gate two days ago and guess who had to deal with the aftermath.”
“You?”
“No, it was actually Nina, but I heard all about it.”
“Oh?” Fifteen leaned forward to show her interest.
“Azyra tried to fly over the gatehouse on a roc, of all things. A roc! Can you believe it?”
The sage nodded. She wouldn’t have doubted those words even if she hadn’t already met that overgrown chicken on her way back.
“Guards didn’t like it?” she hazarded a guess.
“Damn right, they didn’t! Brought the thing down so hard they almost killed it! Azyra threw the biggest hissy fit, I thought she was going to blow a hole in the outer wall! Thankfully, that witch hunter was out on patrol or something and calmed her down right quick.”
Fifteen wasn’t thrilled to hear that. She silently hoped the hunter would have moved on by now, but no such luck. On the bright side, if Azyra bumped into him, then that probably meant she was in for some good news.
“What did he do?”
“It was the darndest thing! He cracked a joke about the roc, something to do with its odd colors. Not sure what it was but apparently he had her in stitches and she calmed down right quick.”
“Tch.”
Fifteen couldn’t help but click her tongue. She was hoping the loudmouth got ‘calmed down’ right into a coma, but no such luck. Also, a witch hunter using humor to disarm a situation? That could happen?
“Anway, the guards still weren’t happy. Not one bit,” Emerick continued. “Luckily, they only put her in confinement for a week. They could’ve done far worse with how on edge everyone’s been lately. Azyra couldn’t have chosen a worse time to try and bring in a familiar that large. Honestly, where did she get that idea?”
He looked meaningfully at the sorceress, but she just shrugged.
“Where indeed?”
“Mhmmm. Just so you know, if this catches on and the office turns into a zoo, you’re helping me clean up the monster crap. Speaking of, where’s your new friend?”
“Securing a lair.”
Emerick closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and inhaled loudly, all in exasperation.
“Girl. We talked about this. You can’t go around talking like some evil mastermind.”
“But, I wasn’t?”
“Lairs imply dangerous monsters that need to be put down. Would you describe your familiar that way?”
“… No?”
“Then. Use. Your. Words.”
He slammed his palm into his desk with each of those syllables, a clear sign he was actually being serious for once.
“Bahm is looking for a safe and quiet place where he can stay out of trouble while I’m in town.”
“Was that so hard? Honestly,” he shook his head. “One of these days that stilted tongue of yours is gonna land you in shit so deep not even I can dig you out of it.”
“Sorry.”
“Also, I’ve been meaning to ask,” he leaned forward and glanced down at her busted-up leg, “what that’s about?”
From what Fifteen’s paperwork said there had been no complications with either the bounty or the field job. If that was the case, how and when did she manage to bust up such a high-class item? Granted, he didn’t know much about it, but he heard it was custom made by Wilhelm Blackball. The man was a master artificer – the best in town – and his creations would surely not break easily. Also, Emerick couldn’t help but notice that Fifteen’s vibrant yellow robes were thoroughly stained with grass and dirt. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she spent the last few days rolling around on the ground.
“I did some experiments,” she replied evasively. “Had a mild mishap. Nothing to worry about.”
“Uh-huh,” Emerick was thoroughly unconvinced. “Just to be clear – nobody got hurt and nothing burned down, right?”
She nodded firmly.
“Good enough for me,” he backed off and returned to a more casual tone. “Want me to fix that up for you?”
“… Can you?”
“Of course! I may not be on the grind anymore, but I’m still an earth mage. If it’s unenchanted metal I can mend it in a few minutes, provided you have the rest of it.”
She considered it for a moment, then accepted. The privilege would probably cost her some coin in the form of a maintenance fee, but the convenience would be worth it. Having to walk on a stiff lump of metal without that sophisticated spring mechanism in the ankle had been profoundly uncomfortable. So, she seated herself on one of the worn sofas, removed the damaged limb, and handed it over along with the slightly warped foot part she had stuffed in her shoulder-bag. Emerick told her to relax while he handled things then disappeared into the back rooms along with all the other stuff she gave him before.
As she sat there and waited, it dawned on Fifteen that she really should prepare a back-up prosthetic. That would mean getting another made and forgoing Mr. Blackball’s generous offer of a trade-in, but it would be money well spent. Better yet, rather than a simple spare, why not order something custom-made with her ‘experiments’ in mind? It would undoubtedly be even more expensive than the first one, but she didn’t mind the added cost if it was for the sake of her research. She was essentially investing in herself, and what could possibly be a better use of her coin? Silly things like rent, food, and clothing? Actually… those were rather important, weren’t they? Not to mention that summer was drawing to a close, and when fall rolled around her income would dwindle significantly, so now might not be the best time to splurge on fancy metal legs.
For better or worse the sorceress had plenty of time to think over her budgetary concerns as Emerick took longer than anticipated to return, and when he did he looked remarkably pale.
“Damn, girl. You need to treat your gear better,” he coughed lightly as he complained. “I don’t know what you did to that damn leg but it took a lot of effort to convince it to get back into shape.”
“I apologize,” she bowed without hesitation. “I’ll be more careful.”
“… And?”
“And thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, and here is your payout, minus the maintenance fee.”
He smiled gently as he handed over a jingling satchel. Fifteen accepted it with a firm nod, then got busy reattaching her metal leg.
“One more thing before you go,” Emerick’s voice turned serious. “This came in for you while you were out.”
He handed her a sealed envelope, and just looking at it gave her a bad feeling. For one thing, it was addressed to ‘Two Hundred and Fifteenth Acolyte of the Order of Ash.’ Getting called out by one’s full name and title was always a sign of trouble, especially when it came to painfully long ones like hers. Another bad omen was that the missive bore the duke’s name and a fancy seal. Her suspicions were confirmed the instant she opened it – it was a summons to the nobleman’s estate. Urgent and confidential, to boot. She couldn’t help but worry, especially with this timing. Did it have anything to do with the gate guards’ behavior earlier? Did Azyra spout a bunch of slander to get her in trouble? Or was the witch hunter somehow involved? No, no, no, surely the church didn’t have any issue with her. True, she skirted their rules here and there on the job, but never in public and there weren’t any outright violations. Tons of people did that. Actually, was that the issue? Was this some kind of large-scale crackdown on misdemeanors?
All kinds of worries weighed heavily on Fifteen’s mind for the rest of the evening. Thankfully, she was dead tired from spending most of the day walking and tumbling, so she passed out the instant she returned to her dorm room. As usual, she felt better the following morning. New day, new possibilities, as the scriptures said. Last night’s concerns were still in the back of her mind, but were drowned out by more immediate issues. It obviously wouldn’t do to show up to a duke’s estate looking and smelling like a pig sty. So, she thoroughly wiped her body down and slipped into her old ceremonial robe, the one she wore at her graduation. It was a long, flowing, modest garment that resembled a loose dress. It was black with golden flame-patterned embroidery along the left side and hid all of her skin aside from her neck and collar. She obviously couldn’t offend the nobleman with her facial situation, so she covered that up with a heavy-duty veil that hid everything aside from her hair and good eye. Lastly, she sprinkled herself with a generous dose of her only perfume and set out.
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The dolled-up sorceress arrived at the duke’s estate about half an hour later. She took a carriage since her formalwear was so long that the hem of the skirt swept across the ground, making it tricky to walk in. Stepping out of the vehicle, she was greeted by the aftermath of the recent attack. At least, the parts that couldn’t be easily fixed or cleaned up. The front garden looked like a war zone, the mansion’s exterior was dotted with spell-burns, and she couldn’t help but note the suspiciously knight-shaped hole in one of the windows. The interior looked in slightly better shape, although it seemed a bit empty since they had to throw away all the damaged furniture.
All of the guards and servants on duty gave Fifteen long stares as she walked by. She did her best to ignore them and focused solely on following the head maid’s lead. Even the sorceress could tell the woman in front seemed awfully stiff and nervous. It seemed obvious that neither she nor her colleagues wanted a flame-flinger in the mansion after everything that happened. Fifteen wanted to reassure her somehow, but she really wasn’t good at consoling or comforting others, so she simply stayed silent until they reached their destination – an intact guest room on the third floor.
“Milady awaits you inside, Miss Acolyte.”
Fifteen nodded and was extra careful not to scrape her brass heel across the floorboards as she entered the room. Waiting inside was Lady Raela Gervais. She was the duke’s youngest daughter, a fourteen-year-old maiden with radiant golden hair and a smile so innocent and charming that it could melt the heart of even the coldest of bastards. Or at least, that’s what she looked like in the countless paintings of her around town. The attack had clearly taken its toll on her. Her luxurious locks were messy, her baggy eyes betrayed a lack of sleep, and her adorably round face had several patches and bandages over obvious bruises. If not for the elegant sky-blue dress and fancy jewelry, one could easily mistake her for a village girl with an abusive father. Yet despite her injuries, her natural charm shone through the instant she smiled at her guest.
“Welcome. I apologize for calling you here so early, especially after you just finished a long journey.”
“It was no trouble. It is an honor to be invited.”
Fifteen offered her customary bow as she tried her best to not appear rude or disrespectful.
“No, no, the honor is all mine,” the young lady curtsied. “Truth be told, I’ve heard much about you and wanted to meet you for a while now. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Indeed. I was saddened to learn what had transpired in my absence.”
It was worth practicing these lines on the ride over.
“That’s very kind of you to say, but let us not dwell on it. Come, take a seat.”
She gestured at the round table, which already had two cups of tea and a plate of fresh biscuits. Now that Fifteen thought about it, she was so busy dressing herself up that she neglected to eat breakfast. She also praised herself for wearing a veil rather than the usual face-wrap since she could partake of the drink and treats without outing her horribly scarred features.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
The sorceress took her seat while Lady Gervais gestured for the maid to leave them. Fifteen wanted to question if that was really a good idea. Obviously she didn’t have any bad intentions, but she believed a young girl ought to be more careful about inviting a total stranger to her room. Even if the guest didn’t have a staff or wand, she was still a mage. Invoking magic without a focus wasn’t recommended, but even apprentice wizards could do it. One would imagine the victim of a witch attack would be especially wary in such a situation, yet she showed no fear or hesitation as she sat right next to the sorceress. When she did, her smile gave way to an expression of wide-eyed surprise, though the young lady tried to cover it up by holding a hand up to her nose and lips.
“Oh, my. Pardon me, but what is that intoxicating aroma?”
“My perfume?”
“Is that what that is? It’s my first time encountering a fragrance so sweet,” she giggled lightly. “It’s almost enough to give me a toothache.”
Now that Fifteen thought about it, she might have laid it on a bit thick. In hindsight, she should have put it on before her ceremonial veil. Though it looked thin and dangled loosely past her chin, the dense black cloth had the same air-filtering properties as her usual face-wrap, so she felt only a fraction of the scent that everyone else did. On second thought, this might have been what attracted all those weird stares earlier. Well, it surely wasn’t that big of a deal, but an honest apology wouldn’t hurt.
“I beg your pardon, milady. It seems I misjudged the proper amount.”
“It’s fine, and please, call me Raela. And what may I call you?”
“Fifteen is fine.”
“My, how quaint! Though, while we are on the subject, what is that fragrance derived from?”
“A desert flower called altair.”
“Oh? Can you tell me more about it?”
“… It’s white.”
“Is it beautiful?”
“I suppose.”
“Don’t be modest, I’m sure it’s absolutely lovely. Does it have some kind of special meaning in the language of flowers?”
“Well…”
Fifteen leaned back in her seat, brought her cup under her veil, and took a deliberately long sip of her tea. It was all just an act to buy herself some time to think since she was rather confused by this line of questioning, and not just because she had no idea what the hell a ‘language of flowers’ was supposed to be. The letter that summoned her didn’t say what Raela wanted to talk about, but the ‘urgent and confidential’ part implied it was of great importance. If that was the case, why was she so interested in something as pointless as a flower from a land so far away she’d never see either? Was she actually that much of an airhead? That couldn’t be the case. Perhaps… Ah, of course. Fifteen had momentarily forgotten, but even if her host was of noble birth, she was still a child who had recently undergone a traumatic, near-death experience. It was no wonder she sought some escapism. The sorceress had been in a similar position at only half the young lady’s age and could definitely relate. Though she sucked at comforting others, if talking about a foreign flower helped take Raela’s mind off things, then she would gladly indulge her.
“There’s an old legend about it, actually.”
“I’d love to hear it!”
The girl’s eyes practically sparkled with anticipation as she made her request. How could Fifteen not tell the story now?
“A long time ago, when the world was still young, there was a lonely goddess called Eona. She was born from the great void between worlds, and grew to be a mischievous and selfish sort who tormented others for her own entertainment. She loved to weave illusions out of shadow to trick mortals and gods alike. She would hide their precious treasures, force them to lose their way in thick forests and deep caves, or whisper lies while they slept to sow discord. It is said she was especially jealous of lovers and would stop at nothing to tear them apart.”
“My, how vile!” Raela gasped.
“One fateful day, she set her eyes on an adventurous couple whose wanderlust compelled them to explore the great deserts. She tried every trick she knew and even thought up entirely new ones, but nothing she did could bring their spirits down. They were humble folk who needed only each other, so stealing their belongings did little. They had no set destination, so when she turned them around they simply took the new direction without complaint. Their trust in each other was so strong that none of the doubts she tried to sow could take root.”
Fifteen stalled for time with her tea yet again. She hadn’t thought about this story since she was a child, so she struggled to remember some bits and had to improvise a little.
“But Eona was stubborn. She kept pestering those two for years and years. She’d spent so long hounding them that she came to know them almost as well as they knew themselves. This only made her jealous heart ache even more, for even though she could see them, they could not grasp her presence in the slightest. Nobody could. Even the other gods could only catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of their eye. She thought it unfair that mere mortals could enjoy each other’s company so brazenly when she was destined to be alone forever.”
Raela’s face sank a bit, as expected. An eternity in solitude was a dreadful thing to imagine.
“The more Eona witnessed the depths of their love, the more desperate she became to tear them apart, and eventually her persistence bore fruit. A sudden sandstorm enveloped the couple. The strong winds and thick clouds tore the mortals apart despite their best efforts, but they were not worried. You see, back then the sky remained bright even when the sun disappeared below the horizon and the couple always wore bright and vibrant robes of green and red. Finding each other after a sandstorm passed was as simple as climbing to the tallest dunes and keeping an eye out. They had done so many times before and would surely do so again. Eona was well aware since she’d seen it before, but on this occasion, she was struck by wicked inspiration.”
The young girl gulped. Fifteen had to admit, it felt kind of nice to have a captive audience, though she’d rather fight a brood of dragons than do this sort of thing in front of an actual crowd.
“The jealous goddess acted without thinking. She wove together the largest, thickest shadow she could and draped it over the sky, plunging the entire desert into total darkness. Thus did the first night descend upon the world. The mortals were at a complete loss. They had no torch or lamp for light as they’d never needed such in their travels. They yelled each other’s names, but Eona tricked the wind into carrying their voices in the wrong direction, forcing them to drift further apart. When the sun eventually came to chase the enormous shadow away, it was too late. The lovers were separated and would likely never again find each other.”
On second thought, it probably wasn’t a smart idea to be telling a story this sad to a freshly traumatized teenager, but Fifteen was in too deep to stop now.
“Eona was overjoyed, of course. At long last she had achieved her goal, but her malicious glee didn’t last. She had grown so close to these two that when she saw them weep for one another, her cold heart ached like never before. She tried to pull back her great shadow, but it refused to obey her and kept true to the dark and bitter feelings she wove into it. Every time the two lovers came close to reuniting, night would find them and force them to drift apart yet again. Powerless and wracked with guilt, Eona could do nothing but weep alongside the mortals. It is said the three of them cried all night, every night, for three hundred nights.”
A more skilled storyteller might have found a way to put a positive spin on the narrative, but the sorceress didn’t know how to do that on the fly. Thankfully, the story had a happy ending – sort of – so she just kept going.
“But then, a miracle happened. As Eona’s tears fell upon the great shadow, the weight of her sorrow pressed harder and harder upon it until it burst. On the three hundredth night, the great veil was suddenly riddled with countless tiny holes through which the light of the heavens could peer through. Thus did the first stars appear in the night sky. Though weak individually, their collective shine offered just enough guidance for the couple to finally reunite. Weakened and exhausted by their ordeal, they fell asleep in each other’s arms and would never wake again. It is said Eona still sheds a tear when sees a lost soul, which streaks across the darkness as a shooting star that points them in the right direction. And where that tear lands, a glowing white flower blooms like a drop of starlight. That’s the flower that the sand elves called altair.”
That story was also the source of the expression ‘star-crossed lovers,’ though that was probably a bit too much trivia.
“Wow… That was beautiful,” Raela said quietly while dabbing her moist eyes with a napkin. “Do you think any of it is true?”
“Hard to say.”
The only thing Fifteen could say for certain was that the goddess in the tale was very much real. A part of the ancient elvish pantheon, to be precise. Each of their deities presided over various emotions, and Eona’s domain included the cycle of love, loss, and hope. The stars were obviously central to her faith, and Fifteen’s vial of Wandering Starlight was probably connected to her in some way. As the tale implied, her following had a heavy presence in the desert region where the sorceress was raised, so it was only natural her stories would endure. Though, only a fool would take them too seriously.
“Old legends are often embellished,” she warned Raela.
“I suppose. It was a moving tale, regardless. I don’t think I could tell it as well as you, but is it alright if I share it with others?”
“It’s fine.”
If anyone had the right to object it was Eona herself, and she was in no position to do that.
“Then I will gladly do so! Though, do altair flowers actually glow?”
“Yes, but they are very rare these days.”
Supposedly they were a much more common sight back when the gods were still around.
“Huh. Wait, doesn’t that make them a legendary ingredient?!”
“No. They’re a popular crop where I come from. Only the wild ones glow. Those are the rare ones.”
“Oh, I see,” she calmed down. “How long do you think it would take me to find one of those if I went to the desert?”
“I would not recommend it. Very unpleasant place.”
It wasn’t without its charms, and Fifteen certainly missed it on occasion, but that was just her being homesick. Objectively speaking, the temperate climate around Cherrytown was far more comfortable for humans. It was no accident that so many southlanders, northlanders, and highlanders could be found mixed in with the local midlander populace.
“But isn’t the desert perfect for fire mages?”
“… Raela, why am I really here?”
That odd question gave the sorceress a pretty good hint, but she felt like they’d danced around the subject enough. As expected, it was difficult for the young lady to talk about, given how she looked away and started fidgeting.
“W-well. You see, apparently I have the aptitude for it, so…”
“Did you awaken to it after the attack?”
Fifteen groaned in her mind as the girl sullenly nodded. To summarize the issue, the duke’s daughter wondered if she should pursue a career as a fire mage instead of whatever ladies of high birth normally did and wanted to consult with the Sage of the Sands since she was one of the best flame-flingers in town. Well, if she wanted honest, genuine advice, then that was what she’d get, even if it would seem cold or cruel on the surface.
“I strongly recommend you get yourself muted.”
“Hm? I’m sorry, what does that mean?”
“It’s a ritual that neutralizes the magic in your blood.”
Raela’s bright blue eyes blinked rapidly as she processed the implication.
“You’re telling me to give up on being a mage?! Without even trying?!”
Her outrage wasn’t unexpected, but it stemmed from a place of ignorance.
“I am,” Fifteen calmly reaffirmed.
“That’s so mean! Is it because I’m a noble!? I bet you think I’m just a dumb, spoiled brat! Is that it!?”
Well, the sorceress wouldn’t go that far. There was no denying the girl had a sheltered upbringing, but her lineage was only a small part of why Fifteen said that. If anything, that she even considered becoming a mage after what those witches put her and her family through was commendable. An open mind was a useful asset within the robed community. Were the circumstances a bit different, Fifteen would be far more supportive. Unfortunately, while the little miss was blessed to be born with the gift, she drew the short straw on her elemental aptitude, and her visitor felt it necessary to make her understand that. On the upside, this was a conversation she’d held once or twice before, so she had a good idea how to go about it. She waited patiently for the young lady’s tantrum to run out of steam, then raised a hand in a halting gesture.
“Raela, listen closely. Fire is the power to destroy. It is the strongest in that aspect, but can’t do anything else. My magic is worthless when faced with a problem that can’t be solved by burning it down.”
The girl was listening, but she clearly wasn’t taking any of this to heart if her crossed arms and furious pout were any indication. It looked cute, but her attitude betrayed a certain naive stubbornness that would only cause her grief further down the line. As expected, it would prove more effective to show rather than tell.
“Worst of all, it burns both ways.”
Fifteen pulled off a glove and rolled up her sleeve. As expected, the young lady gasped in shock when she saw the deep burn marks all over her forearm. Such scars were common among fire mages, but they usually kept them hidden so as to not upset others, so it wasn’t a well-known aspect of their magic. The Sage of the Sands had it especially bad in that respect due to her exceptionally high output, but even a fraction of it would make for an ugly sight. It was best that the young girl be confronted with this harsh reality before she committed to anything.
“This won’t happen at first, but the more your power grows, the worse the pain gets.”
Just to further illustrate her point, the sorceress did something that regularly got her in trouble with her instructors back in the day. It wasn’t anything serious, just a bad, unhealthy habit that wasn’t too dissimilar from picking a scab or scratching an insect bite, though since magic was involved it wasn’t anything so innocent. What Fifteen did was intentionally stoke her inner flame without intending to release it. The result was the deep scars along her exposed arms began to glow. Within moments one could just barely hear a sizzling noise accompanied by the faint smell of burning flesh that seemed to cut right through the flowery perfume. Most of the nerves involved were long dead so it barely hurt, but judging by the young lady’s expression it certainly didn’t look that way.
“You never get completely used to it. At most, you learn to bear it. Even then…”
Fifteen piled on the pressure and lifted the hem of her robe to reveal that one of her legs was missing and the thigh above was even crispier than her arm. If Raela looked disturbed or concerned before, she was now straight up horrified. This much was probably enough to get the guest’s point across, but she’d rather make sure. If the girl was already weak in the knees just from this little ‘presentation,’ then she would never stomach the other harsh realities that all mages had to face, not just flame-flingers.
“Worst of all, monsters really love our kind. Especially dragons. They’ll hound you wherever you go, and trust me when I say this–”
For the finishing blow, she pulled aside the thick veil obscuring the majority of her face.
“–dragons are the worst.”
The young lady of house Gervais made an extremely unladylike face as she fell to her hands and knees and unleashed the contents of her stomach upon the fancy carpet. Fifteen was taken aback by the extreme reaction. She expected Raela would faint or cry, not straight up vomit. She was well aware her facial situation inflicted a lot of psychic damage, but wasn’t that too visceral of a response? Only at that moment did it dawn on the sorceress that she might’ve pushed the kid a little too far. In hindsight, though she intended to ‘scare her straight’ for her sake, wasn’t it profoundly stupid to use such a brutish method on a noble’s daughter? In her own home, no less?
Sure enough, mere seconds after Raela started making those horrible noises a bunch of angry guards burst through the door, detained the mage, and then dragged her off. It all happened so fast that there was nothing she could do even if she tried to resist, but the sorceress had no such intentions. She had a feeling something like this would happen the instant she got that letter even if she dared to refuse the summons.
Mages and nobles mixed like oil and water even on the best of days, and adding fire to the situation could only make it worse.