A sharp ray of sunlight pierced through a small hole in the outside wall, hitting Samuel directly in the face. He shifted uncomfortably, rolling over to avoid it. Then he felt the chill of the air and gave a slight shiver. The temperature of late autumn was starting to verge toward frigid. It crept through the very walls of his home, pushing away the vestiges of the heat the long-dead fire had given.

Letting out a low groan, Samuel finally decided to sit up. His stiff muscles protested at the simple movement, twinging as they were forced to move. He stretched his arms and legs out, the soles of his feet pressing against the cold wood posts of his bedframe. Next, they had to touch the comparatively icy floor of his bedroom, which only heightened his discomfort.

He pushed himself off his uncomfortable bed; nothing more than two or three inches of padding over a hard wooden plank. It had been better in the time that his mother was still alive, just under five years ago. He’d had a nice soft feather bed, easily the most luxurious item in the house beside the chair she’d sat in when he was a child, reading him stories while the warmth of the fire covered the two of them.

He shivered again, shaking away the warm memory before shuffling across his small room to splash some cold water on his face. The small mirror set above the wash basin showed no great change to his features. A thin, pale face with ice-blue eyes, framed by a mane of black hair that reached down to his ears, though now it stood at ends. He smoothed his hair back into place with a wet comb, then checked his appearance again.

Much better. He looked virtually nothing like his mother, who had been a red-haired, round-faced woman. Much of the villagers said that he looked like his father, though he’d never met the man. Tall and very thin, with black hair and blue eyes. There was even something of his father in the angles of his face, they said. He personally couldn’t care less what the villagers said of his father. The man had no presence in his life, and so warranted no thought. He’d rather devote his thoughts to happier things.

Nearly set for the day, he pulled on the dark blue robe that was hanging from a rack on his wall. Another relic from his mother, given to him on his seventeenth name day. They hadn’t known it at the time, but it would be the last gift she’d give. It was the finest piece of clothing he owned, made of thick fabric that shut out the chill of ocean-side air. It had gold thread embroidered along the hems. She always thought it made him look like the lord of the village.

He took a deep breath, pushing away the sudden melancholy that settled over his mind, and took one last look in the mirror. Good as he would ever get. He left his room and made his way down the small hallway to the second and largest room of his house, which served as a combined kitchen and living area. It was also where he conducted his business with the rare visitor in need of a map. His desk was still cluttered from the previous night, with papers and charts spread over the worn surface.

He tended to the fire before sitting at his desk, reveling in the wave of warmth that washed over him. Most of the papers were dedicated to his work, of course; charts of the countryside, safe paths through Dagorra Forest, and even a few notes copied from travelers that had passed through. Once those were sorted away, along with the newest notes, all that remained was a folded announcement from Milagre, the capital city.

He read through it again, though he’d memorized the flyer the previous night. It was from the Mage’s College of Milagre, a renowned institute where young magic users went to learn the arcane arts and sharpen their skills. Admission was easy; they were willing to accept anyone who showed even a modicum of magical talent. Samuel thought, not for the first time, that he might be good as a mage. He certainly fit the stereotype. He spent a great deal of his time writing and reading, and sometimes he thought he felt a vague buzzing around his body and mind. That’s how Darla, the blacksmith’s daughter, described mana.

But learning magic was expensive, and it took a great deal of time. And while Samuel had nothing but time on his hands, he did not have much gold. Traveling took some serious coin even if you traveled alone, and going through the Dagorra Forest was a death sentence, even in these cold days. Samuel wasn’t sure he believed the stories of twisted, shadowy monsters that lived there, but the threat of the brigands that called it home was a real enough danger to keep him away. The closest he’d ever come was the very edge of the forest when he ranged out to find materials for his ink.

But this year, the College of Milagre promised to avoid that problem for him. The flyer promised that if he showed magical talent, they would provide him with free room and board in the capital. They’d even cover the cost of any rations he might need to travel northwest. It was a seriously tempting offer, one that had consumed his mind for hours the previous night. Sure, he liked the prospect of learning magic and making a name for himself at the College. But what he really wanted was the chance to travel, to see the world beyond his simple fishing village. He’d been within a mile of the coast all his life, and he wanted to see more.

He set aside the flyer with a long sigh. Travel wasn’t an option. Even if he took the College’s offer, which would require proving that he had any measurable magical talent, he couldn’t make it through those woods safely. A tempting offer, but not possible with his current circumstances. He’d probably live in this village until he was an old man. That’s what was expected of him. Meet a girl, have a family, grow old, and die. How ordinary. How boring.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

There was a knock on his door that shook him out of his thoughts. A customer this early? It was possible, he thought, rising out of his chair. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been called on for his services before the first of the night frosts melted. But when he opened his front door, he saw that it wasn’t a customer. It was Sera, the daughter of one of Harlest’s fishing boat captains, and a serving girl at the local inn.

“Sera,” he said blankly, frozen in the doorway. It was rare that he got a visit from anyone in the village, let alone his favorite among them. His house was nearly a full mile’s walk away from the village up the coast. “What are you doing here?”

Sera frowned at him, her smooth skin wrinkling. The warm brown eyes beneath her brows rolled to indicate her amusement. “Don’t tell me you forgot your name day again.”

Oh, right. Today was the beginning of his twenty-second year. He gave a slight shrug before stepping to the side and welcoming her in. “What’s the point of remembering it? This year was the same as the last, and it’ll be the same next year.”

She let out a snort and knelt to pick up the basket she’d carried from the village. “What’s the point? The point is to celebrate that you’ve been alive for twenty-two years, bookworm. The point is to have some fun with friends and enjoy a day off. You’re not working today.”

He didn’t bother arguing the point. Even if he wanted to, Sera had a stubborn streak that was known and feared in Harlest. She particularly had no patience for travelers coming to the coast who offered to ‘save’ her from this boring village and take her to one of the cities. “I know I’m twenty-two. You know I’m twenty-two. Anyone who matters knows.”

“Ha! Don’t let James hear you say that he doesn’t matter.” She set the basket down on his desk, very nearly missing a delicately stacked pile of papers, then turned to face him. “You’re getting skinny again. Thomas says you have to come to the inn tomorrow for a proper dinner.”

Samuel raised an eyebrow, glancing at the basket. By the sound of it hitting his desk, it sounded heavy. “I have to? I’m not sure I’ll have room after whatever’s in that basket.”

She ignored that, lifting one hand to pinch his hollow cheek. “You don’t have a choice, Sam. You can’t be this skinny forever.”

“I’ve been skinny all my life,” he retorted. “Why stop now, when it’s working out so well for me?”

A smile curled the corner of his lips as he said it, unable to keep a straight face on. She let out a laugh, a beautiful, melodious sound that never failed to raise his spirits. Then, catching him completely off-guard, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him. His head spun, and his arms went around her in return, losing himself for a few seconds. Sera was the best part about life in the village, he thought, and likely the reason he’d never really leave.

“Happy name day, Samuel,” she said in a soft whisper, then pulled away, smirking at the vaguely dumbfounded expression on his face. Sera seemed to take an almost perverse pleasure in keeping him off balance. They’d been good friends since early childhood, and he had just as many memories of her as he did of his mother. They’d only grown closer together as they’d aged, though he was too awkward to actively pursue her. Their affections were limited to rare moments like this or quiet long embraces under the light of the moons.

“So,” he said, trying to clear his head and stop it spinning. “What did you bring?”

“Well, obviously I brought food. But I also got this for you. Bought it from a merchant last month. Seems like something you’d find interesting.”

She lifted the lid of the basket and pulled out a large book. It was bound in leather and looked higher quality than any of the other books he owned. He took it with wide eyes, reading the title stamped onto its front cover. A History of the Early Mortal Races and the First War by Archmage Evander Wembly. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never even heard of this book. Thank you, Sera.”

She didn’t reply but moved over to the small table that took up a corner of the main room and started setting down plates of food. “James will be coming over soon as well, once he’s finished warming up the forge.”

James, his second childhood friend, was the son of the local blacksmith. He helped his father with his business and had spent every year of his life wielding a hammer over an anvil. He was nearly as tall as Samuel and much stronger. Much of their childhood had consisted of wrestling matches that James always won, after which pleads of mercy were required before he could be freed. Still, they got along well.

“Haven’t seen him in nearly two months,” Samuel said with a smile. “It’ll be good for him to get out of the shop and have some fresh air.”

Not long after that, and barely soon enough for Samuel to taste more than a few of the delicious items of food Sera had brought with her, James made his way over. He delivered a near-crushing hug and thumped Samuel painfully on the shoulder. “Happy Birthday Samuel. I gotcha a present, and Andross says to come over tomorrow. He’s got your favorite coffee.”

The three of them settled down to an impromptu feast, talking and laughing easily with each other as they devoured Thomas’ excellent cooking. It was a pleasant evening of good food, wine, and friendly company; a rare pleasure in his rather dull life. It even drove away thoughts of the approaching winter, thoughts of his dream to travel, and the return to boredom that would come with the next morning.