The sword had a fine, long steel blade, shining proudly under the soft light entering through the windows and bathing the room in pleasant glow. The cross guard was richly ornamented and the grip was covered in smooth brown leather, enjoyable to the touch. The pommel was in the shape of a dragon’s head. The creature’s eyes were made of small turquoise beads.

“It’s… It’s really beautiful”, mumbled Ehrir as he held it in his hands. His statement made Lantor grin.

The two of them were in the latter’s room. It was located at the first floor of the mansion and was considerably bigger and more luxurious than Ehrir’s. The Undone One wasn’t surprised – the man in front of him was an independent mage, after all.

“I’m glad you like it. It was a present from my father for my fifteenth birthday.” Lantor’s face got dreamy really fast. “I was really obsessed with knights and warriors back then, because my brother is one… But my awakening as a wizard set me on another path and made me no longer interested in ordinary weapons. It has been collecting dust ever since… Such a good sword shouldn’t turn into a meaningless antique.”

Ehrir nodded in agreement.

“So…” he spoke after a moment, “do you have an idea how exactly am I supposed to make magical energy stay in the blade?”

Lantor shook his head in a desperate manner.

“No…” He went quiet for a second. “I thought that most of those talented in Manipulation can do it by instinct or something like that. And even if I didn’t… most of the mages skilled in this discipline are hideous. Alchemists and the likes of such, especially. And this is, more or less, work for someone of their kind.”

Ehrir swallowed and fixated his eyes straight on the man in front of him.

“Then why me? I’m just an apprentice… My master isn’t even an expert when it comes to Manipulation.”

Lantor showed an unconfident smirk.

“I…” He stopped for a moment. “Don’t take this as an insult, Ehrir, but… most of the people with talents akin to yours are a bunch of greedy bastards. They can’t just create gold or silver left and right because it’s a fairly complicated process, or so I’ve heard. And because of this simple fact they’ve turned to selling their power. And I’d definitely use the opportunity and buy some if it wasn’t so damned expensive. Only people with the wealth of my father or above can afford their magic, but I can’t just ask my old man for so much gold. He’ll definitely refuse to do lend me that amount in the first place.” Lantor sighed deeply. “And so I’ve come to you.”

Ehrir looked at the man’s regretful expression. There was even a hint of sadness within it. Lantor really wanted this magical blade, for one reason or another, and the Undone One could easily see that he hadn’t told him everything behind this exact weapon and the idea to enchant it. But it wasn’t the time to ask unnecessary questions or doubt anything. The chance to have his own magical sword or axe (although he wasn’t good with any kind of armament, really) was alluring. And yet… he still didn’t know how to fulfill Lantor’s request.

“Man…” he said slowly, “I can’t do it. I have no idea how. Not a hint, even.”

Lantor frowned. His face twisted into a grim, serious expression.

“Please, Ehrir”, he begged. “You can at least try. Hell… I’ll even pay you to do so. I can’t offer much, but…”

The Undone One stopped him with a simple gesture.

“You don’t have to give me any money”, he said with a gentle yet reassuring tone. A slight smile was dancing on his face. Lantor’s honesty and confidence were admirable. “I’ll do it. But I won’t succeed. Probably.”

The sorcerer’s face lit up almost instantly. His smirk was warm and pleasant.

“Thank you”, he said seriously. “You won’t regret it. Now… If you excuse me, I’ll sit down and be quiet. I don’t want to distract you.” After these words Lantor sank in his couch and started watching Ehrir carefully.

The Undone One swallowed and placed the sword on the table in front of him. He could sense the coldness of the metal through his gloves. The blade was hardy and well-balanced, and more than able to cut through leather, wood, flesh and bone. He could turn it into a lot of things and the power surging on the tips of his fingers was easily sensible. But to make it hold magic… He had to think of something new, something… unexperienced by him before. In such a situation improvisation was the best choice.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Ehrir started to let his energy flow through the blade. It was instantly evaporated, of course – this wasn’t riantum and it couldn’t let magic stay inside of it. It was useless. So he tried another thing. And then another. But every method he used, be it trying to change the sturdiness or overall shape of the blade or transform into a completely different metal, didn’t work. He even tried to turn it into riantum, but it was useless. This particular material felt distanced and pretty much untouchable for his Manipulation, just as the precious ones. The minutes just passed him by and success was nowhere to be seen. He struggled on for almost half an hour. But it was useless.

“I can’t do it. Sorry”, Ehrir uttered in the end. He was drippling in sweat and breathing heavily. The extensive use of magic had exhausted him.

Lantor nodded gravely. His expression held both disappointment and reconciliation within it.

“Thanks for trying. I hope we can meet again sometime, if you learn how to do it. Even if this isn’t the case… I’d love to have a drink with you.” He smiled faintly.

Ehrir didn’t know what to say, so he mumbled a quick ‘goodbye’ and headed out of the room.

And then Lantor’s voice stopped him.

“Hey… Do you think you will be able to do it if someone provided you with the right knowledge on the matter?”

Ehrir turned around and met the man’s blueish gaze. There was a strange glimmer within them, like he was excited for doing some improvised mischief. This strange light wasn’t there just a second ago.

“What do you mean? You mentioned that those good in Manipulation… are hideous. Or something like that.”

“Yes, I did.” Lantor’s voice was full of excitement and had a mischievous tone to it. “But I’ve got an idea.”

Ehrir got a bad feeling in his gut faster than he could use any kind of sorcery.

“It doesn’t involve politely asking some well-known alchemist to give us his secret scrolls, does it?”

“Damn right it doesn’t.”

***

“So this is the one?”

“Please, be quieter. We’ve already got more than enough attention on ourselves”, whispered Lantor in response.

The afternoon was approaching its end and the grey light enveloping Nalevas was darkening steadily. The two men advanced through the streets with a slow and unsure pace. They were following (or were trying to, at least) a lonely silhouette in green cloak. Around them the usual kind of people roaming Ale Bay were discussing and gasping while gazing wide-eyed at the Ashen Gaze’s symbol on their chests. Ehrir was getting more and more annoyed at this, mainly because they could’ve just taken the damned things off for this specific walk. Their cover could be easily ruined with all of this unwanted attention.

“What was his name?” asked Ehrir, this time in a far lower tone.

Lantor shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

“It doesn’t really matter. And besides, I don’t know. But he’s one of my friends’ master, as I said.”

“And why are we following him?” Ehrir didn’t really think it through after the man invited him for a stroll through the city streets. He didn’t ask any questions, too.

“Well…” Lantor shook his head unconfidently, but there was irony in his words. “I’d be damned if I know. Probably just for you to see his face or something like that.”

“For fuck’s sake…”

The two of them continued walking and just exchanged glances from time to time. Ehrir still didn’t know what exactly the two of them were doing, especially after he heard the man’s words. Well, he got a quick explanation after a little while, when his bitterness deepened and his companion started giggling out loud. Lantor was essentially hoping to see his friend, the magician’s apprentice (because he didn’t have an idea where to search for him, of course) and he thought that a good method to do so was to go after his master. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was something, at least. Or so proclaimed Lantor.

They didn’t get results immediately. They didn’t get any kind of result for a very long time, in fact. Almost a full hour was spent waiting on corners of different streets, making way through the crowds or going through side alleys. But it came to fruition in the end.

Lantor’s friend showed up in a small avenue near the harbor and engaged in a talk with his master. That gave the two men a chance to creep closer and Ehrir was finally able to see the face of the sorcerer they were chasing for all this time. He was no older than fifty five and even so looked quite young for his age. His hair was snow-white. His face had serious and stoic features and this, combined with his straight and tall posture, made him look cold and prideful. His apprentice was shorter in height, with softer-looking face, scarce beard and glimmering green eyes. He discussed something with the older magician and then started walking up the street. Lantor rushed towards him in that exact moment.

Ehrir watched as the two chatted for a while before Lantor decided to introduce him.

“This is my friend Ehrir. Ehrir, this is Ahor.”

The two men shook each other’s hands.

“Pleased to meet you”, said Ahor with a warm voice and then turned to Lantor. “So, you mentioned there is something you wanted to talk about?”

“Well…” a deep sight came out of the man’s mouth. “Friend, I’ll be straightforward.”

By the end of the conversation Ahor’s face has paled, turned to purple, green, blue and every other color known by Ehrir.