> “The ability to utilize magic effectively is entirely dependent on the mind. The more active the imagination, the more outlandish concepts a person can think of and, most importantly, understand. The more knowledge a person absorbs, the more they can draw from in their casting. Imagination and knowledge are two of the mage’s most important tools because of this. Both expand the mage’s mind, and with it the power of their magic. Arts, music, history, literature, arithmetic; all of it is a weapon in the hands of a capable mage!
>
> Do you see yet, my fellows? Do you see the opportunity I do?
>
> The Mage’s Guild hoards their power, and will undoubtedly fight against any attempt to spread knowledge that would empower others. But if we succeed, the Mage’s Guild will be a guild of ants before us! We’ll have hundreds of loyal mages wielding the power that the guild’s twelve elders keep holding over us! It will be costly, and difficult, but establishing a royal academy will make us the most powerful nation on Tersaulis!”
— High Sorcerer Edmund, to King Aldiir of Verida’s Court.
This would lead to the establishment of the Royal Veridian Academy of Magic, and the eventual rise of the Imperium.
----------------------------------------
Cain pulled up a chair and seated himself across from Roberts, causing the party to lift their collective heads. Magira had been informed of what was going on and was preparing to run or fight as necessary.
“Cain?” Roberts asked.
“The one and only,” he replied. “Fernald said you’d be over here and I figured I still owed you guys a thank-you for saving my ass back there.”
“Hah! We should be thanking you! We expected to be fighting in that forest into the next day, but instead we show up to find you’ve done half the work for us! Not to mention giving us an excuse to leave early and still get paid.”
“Cheers to that,” chimed Mina. “The fewer of those fuckers I have to be in spitting distance of, the better.”
Irota didn’t join the conversation. She seemed to be in the worst state of the three.
“I sympathize with you there. You guys figured out what you’re gonna buy with the reward money, other than alcohol?”
“We’ve pooled the rewards to decide how to spend them as a party,” said Roberts. “We’ll probably be buying a fancy new dagger and bow for Fernald, his support made the raid much easier on us.”
“And a new shield for me,” said Mina. “If I’m going to be the one engaging undead in melee, I want a damn solid piece of metal between us.”
“What about you, Cain?” Irota piped up for the first time. “Did you end up getting a cut, or did Simon stiff you?”
“I got paid, alright. How do you think I could afford this cloak?” Cain lifted an arm, showing off the enchanted leather.
“Wow,” spoke Roberts. “Entropy leather? I can’t see your mana underneath it at all anymore.”
“Sure is,” Cain smiled. “This way I don’t have to deal with nosy mages every time I go outside.”
Mina laughed at Roberts’ expense, while Roberts himself whistled innocently.
“Hmm…” Irota hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe instead of the dagger, one of those for Fernald. He’s our archer and rogue, and the only one of us who can actually sneak up on anything. It would be a great help for him against monsters with a keen mana sense.”
Perfect. Now Cain knew his preferred weapons, and had a lead on his class. Fernald was an archer able to use a dagger in close quarters, and at least capable of stealth.
“This one came with fire protection, too — perfect for in case you meet any other pyromaniacs.”
“I’m sure he’ll love it,” grinned Mina.
A brief lull fell over the conversation. Irota put her head back down with a sigh, and Mina seemed to get lost in thought.
“Have you been getting on all right, Cain?” Asked Roberts. “I got the impression you weren’t from around here, and you didn’t even have the clothes on your back when we found you.”
“I’ve been getting on fine, Roberts. With the help of a friendly fruit vendor, I even got to a bank and broke down the silver from the reward into something I could actually use for everyday errands. Speaking of clothes, did you need yours back?”
“No, it’s no bother. They were a cheap spare, not even enchanted. You can keep them, hell, pitch them for all I care.”
“Ah, good. Now I don’t have to bother cleaning them. I’m going to go grab my things and head out on a job, now. You take care of yourselves.”
“What, a job already?” Cried Roberts. “You just got back from the forest yesterday!”
“No rest for the wicked,” Cain replied.
----------------------------------------
“Do you need me to come with you?”
“No,” said Cain, shedding his cloak. “I don’t think he’ll follow me if I’m not alone. I need him to follow me.”
“Why? I thought he wanted to sell you to the Baron.”
“He probably does, and that’s exactly why I need to meet with him. I need to either convince him not to, or kill him before he has the chance.”
“Wait, you want to kill him?”
“I don’t want to, but there’s a thirty gold reward on my head. If my existence becomes known, I’ll have the entire Adventurer’s Guild after me. If I elude capture but leave him alive, there’s nothing to stop him from telling his party about me. This has to be dealt with.”
Magira let out a stressed sigh. “Are you sure I can’t come with you?”
“Yes. You’re still extremely underweight from malnourishment, and you haven’t developed your magic yet. You’d be at a massive disadvantage fighting Fernald, which I can say with confidence because I’ve seen him fight.”
“Okay, fine,” she said, “just please be careful. I’m going to be pissed if something happens to you after spouting all those lofty goals. I expect you to deliver on every word you said, and I need you to stick around for that.”
“Understood. I’ll tell you where I’m going, and I’ll call if I need help.”
“Good,” huffed Magira. He could feel her stress through their link — it was almost worse than his.
Cain began buckling into the leather cuirass. When a particularly annoying buckle around his back was giving him trouble, Magira helped latch it shut. He strapped a water skin to his left leg using one of the straps, and tucked a hunting knife through one on the right. He’d been able to fill the water skin with magic. He would be leaving his coin pouch with Magira in case he didn’t make it back. He pulled on a pair of gloves and fit the straps tight around his forearms. Taking a deep breath, he draped the ash-gray cloak over his shoulders once more and pulled up the hood.
“Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” called Magira.
Cain steeled his nerves and opened the door. Walking out and down the hallway, he noticed what employees were about staring at him more than usual. The same was true when he reached the lounge. The reason, he realized, was that now he was dressed like an adventurer. As he descended the stairs, he considered his enemy. He had witnessed Fernald to be a skilled archer, capable of rapidly loosing arrows with enough accuracy to fell a moving target with each one. There was also the enchanted arrow he used; if Cain was careless, it might pierce him through the back after a miss. The dagger was an unknown quantity here. Fernald’s proficiency with it was a mystery, as were what enchantments the blade might have. The final variable was magic; he likely had an aspect that aided his stealth, leaving darkness as a possibility. Unfortunately, that was all Cain had to go on. If Fernald was practiced at stealth, he’d likely have a high obscurity attribute, which would interfere with Cain’s mana sight. If he had another trick up his sleeve, Cain would be finding out the hard way or not at all.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Cain arrived at the ground floor and started across the lobby, heading for the door. He made sure to keep track of Self-Awareness, pushing past his discomfort to actively scan the room. He couldn’t see Fernald anywhere, but soon noticed a figure leaning against the door’s outer frame. As he passed, his periphery confirmed it to be the right person. He kept walking, and Fernald fell in silently behind him. None of his other senses could track the archer, and for the first time Cain was grateful for the first skill he’d manifested.
‘I’m leading him out to the grasslands east of here. If you turn right after exiting the front door and just follow that road to the gate, it’ll take you in the right direction.’
‘Okay. I’ll be ready.’
----------------------------------------
The heavy cloud cover of the previous days had lifted at last, revealing a pale afternoon sun framed by fluffy white clouds and a blue sky. A pleasant breeze blew ripples in the tall grass, playing wave-like shadows across the plains. The playful, warbling cries of birds echoed across the landscape. It was a serene experience, ruined only by Cain’s silent companion. He walked on for a few minutes more, wading deeper into the pale grass. When he felt the distance to be far enough, he stopped. Someone else came to a stop behind him.
“Odd place for a meeting, don’t you think?”
“Not for our purposes,” Cain replied.
“I suppose it’s a good place for privacy, if nothing else.”
“What do you want?”
“Hey, now,” Fernald said, “there’s no need for the hostility. I just want to talk. You’re a reincarnate, right?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“I reincarnated here myself a few years back. Came from a plane called Oregia. What plane are you from?”
“Again, what business is it of yours?” Cain turned to glare at him. As he feared, the archer’s mana was blurred and indistinct to him.
Fernald sighed. “Look, I’m not your enemy, okay? I just want to help a fellow reincarnate find their feet. I might be able to introduce you to some people that could help you get started here.”
“As you so aptly noted, I act fast, Fernald. I can find my feet without your assistance.”
“Cain, look. I get that you’re wary, but I’m just trying to help. You’re from Earth, right? I can tell — no other reincarnate would feel the need to lie about where they’re from, or lack so much common knowledge. I have a skill that helps me tell when people are lying to me, and you’ve been setting it off constantly since I met you. People from your plane are known for their ability to rapidly grow in power, so there are a lot of jobs and opportunities available for them. If you just come with me, we can set up a meeting with Baron—”
“I’ve heard enough,” Cain growled.
“What?”
“I refuse to work for Baron Feldume, or anyone who allows the slave trade to continue operation in their territory. If you were hoping to get an easy thirty gold off of me, you’re out of luck.”
Fernald laughed. “Wait, the slave trade? That’s what has you on edge? If that’s all, I’m sure we’ll—”
“People are not commodities. You won’t convince me otherwise. Now, you’ve heard my stance. What are you going to do about it?”
The archer’s expression soured. “I’m going to ask you one more time. If you just come along with me without any trouble, I’m sure we can all be friends and you can get a nice cushy job working for a baron. Are you going to cooperate or not?”
“No.” Cain rested a hand on his knife.
“Then I’m sorry, but I’d like to live to see retirement.”
A bolt of lightning struck Cain in the gut, throwing him backwards before he could pull his knife. It must not have had the same potency as a natural lightning strike, or his heart would have burst. It was still potent enough to draw a shout of pain from him, though. He willed his mana to start fixing the damage caused, and managed to get up just in time to see an arrow being loosed in his direction.
‘Are you okay?’
‘We couldn’t reach a peaceful resolution. Can’t talk.’
A hasty duck saw the arrow pass by Cain’s head and pierce his hood, rather than strike his shoulder. He took off running, making sure to be well out of the arrow’s path for when it was recalled.
“You people may grow quickly, but that doesn’t make up for experience,” called Fernald, grasping the magic arrow as it returned to his hand.
A valid point. Cain had to think fast or he’d be screwed. Using fire was too risky; they were close enough to the town still that guards may come running if signs of a battle reached them. His best bet were his newer aspects. He tried to keep control of his breathing as his heart beat wildly against his chest. As he dodged away from another arrow, he took stock of what he had. Light and darkness could be used to disorient Fernald, making him less accurate. If he could summon it as ice, water would have good potential for both attacking and defending.
He tried to form a ball of ice in his hand. When it worked, he stretched it into a spike and willed it to launch at Fernald as fast as it could. He used the grass to conceal the attack, causing it to only barely miss the mark.
“Fuck! I thought you were a fire mage!” Exclaimed the archer.
“I grow fast, remember?” Cain called back.
From there, he began launching ice spikes at his opponent as quickly as he could form them, forcing Fernald to weave through them more frequently than would allow for him to fire his bow. Cursing, he stowed it on his back and appeared to draw a curved silver dagger. When he began rushing forward, Cain realized a change in tactic was necessary.
He stopped forming ice spikes to focus his full attention on drawing as much mana into a single point as possible. A second before Fernald was within striking distance, he seemed to notice what was happening, and veered sharply to the left. Cain adjusted his aim accordingly and willed the mass of mana to explode outward as sharp shards of ice.
A small wall of darkness manifested to cover Fernald’s torso, but he cried out in pain regardless as icicles tore into his head and legs. He stumbled and fell into the folds of the grass. Cain took full advantage, and began trying to summon water as a scalding stream rather than a pointed icicle.
A gurgling scream told him that his attack found its mark. The sound made Cain’s stomach twist. Just before he could stop the stream though, electricity arced through the boiling water and connected with him, discharging a much larger force than the first bolt. Weightlessness overtook him as he went flying backwards once more, until he landed face-up on the ground. He tried to sit up but couldn’t control the spasming of his muscles enough to do so. All he could manage was to writhe on the ground, groaning in pain. Fernald was still screaming.
‘That felt a lot bigger than the first hit. Do you need help?’
‘I think… he’s doing worse than me. I should win this fight… I just… have to get up first.’
‘It sounds like you need help.’
‘No, Magira… it’s fine. I can heal myself.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
As Cain channeled healing intent through his blood, his spasming slowly died down and the pain from the shock receded. He could still hear his adversary screaming in agony about fifteen feet away from him. He slowly sat up and pushed himself to his feet, breathing heavily. He walked towards the sound battering his eardrums.
There, writhing on the ground, was Fernald. His hands clutched his face, stained red with watery blood. Steam still rose from him. A short distance away, Cain spotted a small clump of flesh, and looked back to the wailing archer. His insides did a somersault when he realized that most of the skin on Fernald’s face had sloughed off entirely. Trying not to look at the injury, he focused on his mana sight. A small lump of mana sat in the man’s chest, but very little remained flowing through the rest of him. He’d used all of his remaining energy on that last attack.
Swallowing bile, Cain pulled out his knife. Fernald didn’t seem to be aware of him anymore. The sound of screaming made his ears ring. Kneeling down next to the mangled man, he lined up his blade with the throat of his opponent.
He took the plunge, and the screaming stopped.
----------------------------------------
Cain stood before the burning corpse, holding a dome of water overhead to absorb the smoke. The water had quickly become foggy and gray. On his side hung a new pouch holding the few coins the former adventurer had been carrying, as well as his license. Two knives and an arrow were tucked out of sight and into the leather straps of his armor. Cain had figured out that he didn’t need his hands to use his magic, and instead now used them to hold his cloak tightly against himself. The heat of the pyre was only skin deep, leaving a gnawing chill in his bones. The smell of burning flesh consumed him.
‘Hey… are you okay?’ Magira asked gently.
‘I just killed one of the people who saved my life not two days ago.’
‘Oh. I… didn’t know that was… oh.’
As the dome above darkened, the shadow it cast only deepened, until Cain was alone with the corpse in a patch of darkness. The multicolored flames danced lazily before his eyes, gradually burning the scene into his eyes. Eventually, he could still see it when he blinked. A faint ringing echoed in his ears.
‘It’s… not your fault, okay?’
‘It’s not my fault I killed him?’ Cain replied bitterly.
‘No, that’s not… I mean, it’s not your fault that you had to. He was going to try to turn you in to the local Baron, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘People from Earth are talked about in legends here, Cain. He would have tried to control you, and…’
‘And?’
‘… and he probably would have enslaved you if he couldn’t.’
Cain sighed, watching as the fire burned lower and lower.
‘You’re probably right.’
‘Yeah. Just… try not to dwell on it, okay?’
‘I will.’
‘You’ll dwell on it, or you’ll try not to?’
‘Both.’
‘Well… alright, fair enough.’
When finally all that remained of Fernald was a pile of smoldering ash, Cain took two steps back and dropped the water. The last cinders fizzled out, casting thin wisps of smoke skyward. He squinted against the sunlight, now taking on the golden hue of early evening. The wind played across the grass all around him, and birds sang proudly in the distance. The blackened water swept away the ashes, seeping into the ground and erasing all evidence of the murder that had occurred here. Cain took a deep breath and looked around.
‘At least it’s a beautiful day to die.’