First of all, sorry for not sticking to my schedule of Wed. and Sat. uploads. I've been writing like crazy so I've been uploading whenever I get something finished.
Let me know if it's annoying and I'll do my best to stick to my schedule, otherwise I'm going to continue uploading like a drunk five year old.
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Chapter 9
Winter found herself in an unused room in the west wing of the estate. Calm streams of light were making their way inside through one of the windows as it was around midday. She had spent the morning giving orders and instructions regarding their next moves, as well as trying to iron out some of the finer details of some of the plans she had. Those thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind at the moment however, as she was being reprimanded by Heldrin for what must have been the eighth time now.
Sitting beside her was Clarissa, who was absolutely no help to her. She suffered from the same thing many geniuses did, the fact that she could do things naturally without much thought made it almost impossible for the small girl to be able to teach how she did something. At least Heldrin was a good teacher, it's just that Winter's mundane mind couldn't wrap itself around what he was trying to explain.
“It's desire,” repeated for the millionth time, “you say the words while wanting the spell to materialize,” he said.
“I don't get how this is even related to what's being said here though,” countered Winter, “how does 'bring forth the wellspring' even have anything to do with closing up a wound?” She had some basic first aid skills so she knew how to at least field dress minor injuries. “Why can't I just say something like, 'knit back together you stupid cut.' It would make so much more sense!”
“It's dangerous,” Heldrin said his eyes wide with exasperation. “You can't just go throwing spell words together willy-nilly! You have no idea what the end result could be!”
“But you said earlier that it's more about desire! Need!” Winter huffed, “even back when we were traveling here you said there were people who don't need the spell words at all.”
“Those are people who have natural talent and a significant amount of experience,” he shook his head looking like he regretted telling her about that. “You may claim to know Tendetric like a native language, but one slip, one stray thought while you're attempting a spell could throw the entire thing into a different direction!” He stood up straight then, putting his hands on his waist, “the incantations, as long as you know them by heart through repetition, will guide your thoughts in the proper direction. This is why memorization is a must, you not only memorize the words of the spell, you memorize the feel of the spell, of the magic flowing through you. Every spell feels different, every spell has it's own flow. If you try to make up your own spells using desires that are not concrete, thought out, and very specific, you will destroy yourself.” He was looming over Winter now, each word hammering his point home.
“Ugh, fine,” she said slumping over the table she was sitting at. Looking over at Clarissa who was studiously memorizing spells out of a spell book, Winter groaned. The nine year old girl could memorize anything after reading it one time, like she had some kind of photographic memory. It wasn't fair. Winter, who as Declan had grown up speaking English, knew more words than both of these two people with her now combined, but it wouldn't help her one bit if she couldn't concentrate on what she wanted to do with any given spell. Still it bothered her, “then, why can't I just say something like, 'Fireball' and have it shoot out a ball of flame at somebody?”
Heldrin's face suddenly looked tired, “without the spell incantation how are you going to tell it where to go, what trajectory, speed, how much heat?” He sighed, “there are dozens of fireball spells, each with different purposes for different occasions. That is also why people have affinities to different magics, typically someone of a fire element will study just that: fire spells, and so on for each element. A decent fire mage will be able to pick out which fireball spell he needs for the situation he finds himself in without thinking, because he has practiced to the point that the magic is a part of him.”
“So it's like muscle memory!” Winter perked up finally understanding.
“I'm not sure I follow,” replied Heldrin furrowing his brows.
“Muscle memory,” began Winter, “happens when you repeat a motion so many times that you could do it in your sleep.” Getting up from her desk she went to an open area in the room behind the old mage. Taking a fighting stance she took a deep breath clearing her mind. Suddenly with lightning speed Winter unleashed a series of punches, which then flowed into a low kick, then to a spinning backhand, which then snaked into a roundhouse kick, back to a chest blow which then flowed into a devastating throat punch. Her demonstration continued as she made her body recite each unarmed move she knew. It felt good to finally let out some strain by moving her body, she had missed practicing her martial arts.
The moves continued to flow, one thing into another with no wasted movement. She had never felt this good, it was like everything was coming together in a perfect harmony. It was then that she noticed a dim glow surrounding her as if she had cast a spell. Heldrin and Clarissa were both staring at her with stunned expressions. Placing her fist to her palm she bowed, signaling and end to her presentation.
“Where did you learn all that?” asked Heldrin after he had gathered himself somewhat.
Shit, I got carried away, Winter thought to herself. Instead she replied, “uh, I'm pretty sure it's just muscle memory,” she laughed weakly, “I can't remember much of anything after all...”
“A pity,” the old mage said looking at the princess dubiously, “that your 'muscle' memories don't extend to your memories of practicing Light Magic.” He shook his head dismissively then, “I suppose it's Chaos now though. I wish I knew how it changed, though I suppose stranger things have happened.” Heldrin looked her in the eyes then, “I've heard of certain warrior monks, far to the north in the snow capped mountain ranges of the Rabbit Folk. It is rumored that they can control the movements of their bodies to such an extent that their magical aspect can be seen, like the glow around a person when a spell is cast.” His gaze was penetrating now, “I had thought they were only rumors, until now.”
Winter smoothed out her features then, calming herself. “Perhaps I had one of these Rabbit Monks as a teacher before?” she surmised. “That would make sense, since I know how to do all that without remembering how I know how to do it. Right?” Heldrin slowly nodded to himself, accepting the explanation for now. One thing hit her then as she retook her seat in front of the old mage. It can't be muscle memory can it? This is a different body and I was just recreating something I knew from my previous self. Maybe Winter was a genius at combat like Clarissa is at memorization?
“Say Heldrin,” she asked looking up at the man, “was I known to be gifted at physical combat when you were in the palace?”
“You were very small back then,” he said, his eyes taking on a misty look as he remembered better times, “about the age of Clarissa here in fact.”
“I'm not very small, thank you very much,” Clarissa retorted. She had finished her memorizing it seemed. “I'm going to find Lox and see about lunch now,” she said closing her book and standing up.
“Fine, but I want you back here as soon as you've eaten,” said Heldrin. The man was a magic freak. To put it bluntly, he acted casually and uncaring about almost everything, but when it came to magic the man was always dead serious.
“What about me?” asked Winter, “I'm getting rather hungry as well.”
“You've done nothing but debate with me all morning,” he answered, “I'll let you go only after you've completely memorized this section,” he said pointing a bony finger at a page in the book that lay forgotten before Winter.
“Aaaah, why can't I just make my own spells?” she moaned. Heldrin's gaze filled with severity then, and Winter quickly buried her face into the book.
-*-
Lox walked down one of the cobble stoned roads in Martin's Mill. It was a good sized town, maybe a little smaller than the Rose Quarter of Ramsfeld, but it had a certain charm to it nonetheless. Looking around at various shops and stalls in one of the many open squares found throughout the city was a decent way to pass the time.
Of course Clarissa had been stingy with the money she lent to him, but that wasn't such a problem when one could simply find a few coins here and there. It certainly wasn't his fault when that old man had bumped into him just now and lost his coin purse. As well as the pretty brown eyed lady a few minutes ago who had suddenly found out she couldn't pay for that cabbage because she had lost her money somewhere. Lox had graciously paid in her stead of course, flashing her a dashing smile while he did.
He had found enough money now that he felt it would be a good time to find a good inn or tavern. A tavern is like a woman, he remembered his uncle Oren saying once, she'll talk your ear off if you let her, but you'll learn a lot to save your hide if you pay attention. Besides, Winter wanted a list of stuff people didn't like about the kingdom, so it would technically be doing his job if he were to go check out what was going on in a tavern. Maybe an inn too, since travelers always brought news, but the dice games would be better at a tavern, people on trips usually didn't want to waste too much money anyways.
After asking a few locals for directions on the nearest tavern, Lox wandered around until he stood in front of a large two story building. The hanging sign had a picture of a goose with it's head raised, beak open, squawking at the moons. The Howling Goose, he had heard, was one of the most popular taverns in Martin's Mill. He hoped it was popular because of the waitresses.
As he strode inside he was welcomed by the scent of freshly baked bread, as well as some kind of meat that was being grilled. It was still a bit early, but even so Lox could tell that the lunch rush was about to get started. He noticed through the door to the kitchen that the cooks were busy stirring and frying, pulling loaves of bread out of ovens, all the things you'd expect from an experienced staff preparing for the coming onslaught of customers. He was broken out of his observations by a lovely female voice.
“It's good that you arrived early young sir,” said a curly haired blond girl in an apron, “if we get too busy you still might have to share a table though.” She smiled then as Lox turned to her voice.
“Oh, that's just fine by me, uh” he paused waiting.
“I'm Hanna,” she said catching the unspoken question.
“Ah, my name is Lox,” he replied smiling. She was just his type, nice figure, slightly plump in the right places. Not like a certain crazy purple haired girl with too sharp eyes that seemed to know exactly what he was thinking at any given moment. It was enough to drive a man crazy. “I'll sit wherever you'll be serving then Hanna,” he said widening his grin. He was going to like this place for sure.
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After she had pointed out a table near a window Lox watched as the waitress bounced away, no doubt to brag about the handsome young man she was going to serve lunch to. He chuckled to himself as he took his seat. It wasn't long before more and more people trickled in. Hanna came back holding a pint of ale soon after and took his order. It was either roasted shoat or the house stew with a heel of bread. Since he was supposed to be saving money he opted for the cheaper stew, even though he loved a good rack of shoat.
The tavern continued to fill with people, and he sat nursing his ale as he kept an ear open for what people were talking about. Most of it was banal, day-to-day banter. Things about the weather, how it had been an unusually hot summer and how it had suddenly cooled off in the last few weeks. Some farmers seemed to think it was too cold, that the fields would freeze before they were able to harvest them. Others complained about how their fields had been decimated during the recent battle. The interesting things were the muttered curses against the king for sending troops, while other men blamed the lord and lady Newell for their recklessness.
It went back and forth like that, some men complaining that it didn't matter if the rest of the field's froze because so much had been burned. No matter what the coming winter was going to be a lean one. Still other men claimed that it had been necessary and that the king's troops would have certainly looted the entire town, even asserting that the knights would have forced many of the people into the army. That brought about yet another topic.
It was well known that the military had been conscripting men from every town. No one seemed to know quite why, but there were at least a dozen rumors flying around about it. Everything from the king preparing to invade Gralhein to the south, to some dispute between the nobility and King Ainsfeld. There were even some outlandish tales of dark things coming from deep in the eastern countries. Lox put the last aside as old wives' tales, thinking that a military build up was probably because of Winter escaping...though the timing seemed a bit off. He had heard of forced conscription taking place in the Adventurer's Guild back home even before he'd been thrown into prison. Maybe the king had known his sister was going to escape.
Pondering that thought he also put it aside, it just wouldn't make sense. He was missing something. If only Oren were there. The crazy old man would have been able to put all this together like he was some kind of oracle, and he'd likely be nicking the poor tavern goers purses the whole while too. Lox shook his head at the thought of his uncle's toothless grin as he cut the purses of his unsuspecting victims. Such a horrible man.
Not him though, Lox only stole things when he needed too. Just like he needed the stew and bread placed before him to keep up his strength. That's right, if he was to be any help to the kingdom he would need to be strong and fit, and for that he needed money for decent food. Sure he could have eaten for free at his Lordship Eban's estate, but Lox didn't want to impose. It certainly wasn't because his Lordship Eban was a stuck up snobby noble. Not the fat old man he had envisioned to be sure, but his Lordship Eban was still a noble, and Lox did not want to be indebted to another person of high birth.
Winter was enough. At least when she wasn't acting crazy cutting up old men or asking weird things about the Rabbit People or the Cat Tribes she was okay. Definitely not like he had envisioned a royal to act. Lox chuckled remembering the look on that Cat Tribe archer Raissa's face as Winter stared at her hat. No doubt it had taken a lot of self control for the princess not to snatch the poor girl's hat off during the meeting...but then she had started saying a lot of weird things again. Scary things from Lox's point of view. He would have left with Clarissa right then if it wasn't for the debt he owed Winter for getting them out of prison. Oren had always said, stay away from nobles, unless you want a trip to the gallows. His crazy old uncle would probably have left Winter to rot on that staircase where she collapsed during their escape, but Lox wasn't like Oren, not one bit.
The stew was excellent, and the bread complimented it perfectly. The bowl was a generous size too, a steal for what he was paying in fact. Hanna came back several times to see how he was doing and to refill his ale. The girl turned out to be quite nimble, smiling devilishly back at him as he missed another attempt at pinching her behind. Yep, definitely my type! Winking at him she strode off to another table, weaving deftly between the other tables, without even one man able to even get close to his goal. He noticed most of the serving girls were like that, it gave them a certain type of grace as they dodged through the tables. He suspected it didn't take long to learn how to walk like that in this type of environment, you could always tell who the new girls were.
Of course Lox was no fool. He knew from talking to serving girls that a well placed wink, even an allowed pinch would often yield better tips from the drunken patrons. There was a balance to it though, one couldn't let it go too far, and there was always a fail safe. Lox peered around the room until he found a large burly man wearing a cudgel at his side. The man was scanning the room with his arms folded looking rather bored. No doubt if any of these men got too drunk and tried something with one of the waitresses they'd get the business end of that cudgel in no time.
Having filled his belly Lox called over Hanna to settle his bill. He had hoped to be able to meet her later, but she politely declined saying she didn't know him all that well. No doubt it was a ploy to get him to come to the tavern more often, but he didn't mind it at all. The food was good and the place had a good atmosphere after all. He made a mental note to come back in the evening for some dice games.
Waving farewell Lox made his way back out to the street. It was a little past midday and he still had some time so he decided to do a little more sight seeing. It was always good to get to know the town you were staying in. Maybe he'd see if he could find the local Adventurer's Guild. Winter had also said something about contacting the underworld in search of some thief or something. He had no idea why she needed a thief for information gathering though, Lox wasn't even a thief, no matter what Clarissa said about him, and he could gather information just fine. Though admittedly his uncle Oren who definitely was a thief was able to construe the truth from mere fragments of conversation.
Maybe he should contact Oren? He was certainly a slippery guy who never seemed to stay in one place for too long. Lox shuddered thinking of what the man might put him through again if they were to meet again. His uncle had been hell bent on making him his successor, saying nonsense things like, Lox is a prodigy at thieving, and, one day you'll surpass even me. To be completely honest, it was probably because of Oren that Lox had ended up in prison. If he was a prodigy, stealing from the palace would be super easy.
“Well, the part you forgot was how I always told you to not get in over your head,” said a familiar gravelly voice beside him.
“Was I talking out loud just then?” he asked without thinking.
“Yup,” said a hooded man next to him. Lox hadn't even heard footsteps, and now he stopped standing frozen in shock.
“U-uncle Oren!” he shouted in surprise, “what in the name of...I mean wha-”
“Quiet down you idiot!” Oren said in his rough voice with his finger to his lips. “You honestly thought you could just get away from me just like that?” he spat, “your training isn't even half way done you know.”
“But I haven't even seen you in two years,” said Lox still in utter shock.
“I've been following you around since you took Clarissa and started living in the Adventurer's Guild in the Rose Quarter,” he stated in a condescending tone. “I never even stopped training you,” he said flashing that toothless grin, “didn't you think it was strange how you were always able to find out about certain jobs, how some of them were slightly different than you expected forcing you to adapt to different situations?” He chuckled evilly then.
“Y-you played me!” Lox's jaw had dropped, “For two whole years?”
“Yep,” Oren said puffing up his chest proudly, “your last task was that palace job,” he said as his tone became grim, “which you failed spectacularly by the way.” His eyes wandered in thought, “though I suppose since you were able to break out, carrying a princess on your back no less...you pass!”
“What? Just like that?” stammered Lox. This was all too much to take in.
“You're still no match for a master thief like me though,” Oren said scratching his head. "And you clearly still need more training. Go get Clarissa and your things and we can head over to Tenemin,” he said looking Lox in the eyes. “I won't take no for an answer.”
“No,” said Lox.
“What? Why?” Now it was Oren's turn to be baffled.
“I have obligations now,” Lox said looking up into the cloudless sky. They had been walking for some time now, and he found they were on the road that lead back to the estate. The old man has been leading us this whole time, he thought in shock, he knows where I'm staying!
“What, to that princess?” he asked with disdain.
“She was the one who broke us out of jail,” admitted Lox.
“Ah, if that's the case,” Oren paused, “you fail. I'll need to teach you even more then.”
“Well, the only way that's going to happen is if you stay here and help Winter,” said Lox. He knew the crazy toothless old coot couldn't stand nobles. It was the perfect excuse.
“Fine,” he said abruptly.
Lox stopped in his tracks, “Wait, what?” he stammered, “you always said to steer clear of nobles!”
“And you'd do well to remember that in the future,” Oren admonished, shaking a finger at him, “but since I know how stubborn you are I'm not going to argue the point,” he said. “It's up to me to get my pupil out of this mess. Besides,” he said as they began walking again, “I've been meaning to talk to old Heldrin again.”
“You know Heldrin?!” Lox thought his heart was going to stop. This was way too much.
“Oh hohoho,” Oren laughed. It wasn't funny, “we may have gone adventuring now and again, back in the day.” The man's eyes were gleaming.
Creepy, shivered Lox.
A few blocks away from the two thieves, Heldrin shuddered, wondering at the sudden urge he had to lock up his valuables.