Candlelight illuminated the unfurled parchment before Vincent; ancient scriptures telling of a long-forgotten city. Eyes burning as they scanned over the page. Hand mindlessly reaching for the bowl of assorted nuts at his side. So, they were located in the Corvital Peak? Perhaps. He flipped over to the next page. This one saying they had built their home upon an island in the sky.
Over the last three months he’d been pouring over the legends of the Arcalius Magistrate. A group of powerful mages from an age where magic ruled over the land. Though many believed the Magistrate to be nothing more than myth, even centuries ago when they were said to have existed.
Through hours of digging through the archives located in the Magius Monastery, Vincent had found very little on these supposed mages. Before finding clues of where they may have gathered, all he had known was that the members of the Arcalius Magistrate were said to each be capable of razing cities on their own. It was unbelievable to think a single person could hold that much power. Even taking magic into account.
While he himself was unable to perform arcane feats, his mother had. Vincent could recall watching his mother speak life into plants, create sparks of flame with a snap of her finger. She’d even once conjured a localized snow drift to allow him and his elder brother to experience it for the first time in their lives. But the things spoken of in the legends, he could never image anyone performing. Even if his mother had been holding back, to think she would be capable of such things seemed a fairy tale.
Thinking back to his mother caused his eyes to lower. A sigh escaped his lips as he began to tap his foot under the desk. Do I make you proud?
It had been so long since he last saw his mother: saw any of his family. When he was younger, he had hoped to awaken the gift of magic. To be able to do the things his mother had, so that she might teach him to harness those abilities. Instead, he had been born without her gift. And even if he had been born with that power, it was far too late to learn from her. Now that she had been taken from the world.
Though in a way she was still the one teaching him. Since it was only due to his relation to her that the Magius Monastery allowed him to join their ranks.
Like him, many of the members of this order were without the ability to use magic. But those who shared the bloodline of mages and previous members of the order were always granted a place within these sacred walls. Though Vincent had done little to explore the monastery. Choosing to stay within his room at most times. Only leaving when he had finished reading over one piece of material, heading to the archieve to return it in exchange for his next read.
It was difficult to believe a whole year had passed since he found his way to the front doors of this place. And in that time, he had only just scratched the surface of the vast ocean of information now available to him. It would take lifetimes to go through it all.
Aside from what he had learned of the Magistrate, Vincent had spent much of his time researching the magical creatures that lived throughout the lands. Dragons, wyverns, unicorns. Anything he could get his hands on, he did so.
Many of those who called this place home were fascinated by his dedication. Many more loathed what they believed to be special treatment handed to him. Unlike the others, Vincent was not forced to wear the habit all acolytes were given, nor was he required to attend any of the lessons held by the masters. Though he would on occasion make appearances during demonstrations of magic by the few elders capable of using the arcane arts.
Abbot Xander—a kindly man in his late forties, and one of his mother’s old teachers—excused his absence from the lessons on the fact that Vincent had not officially joined the order. He was a guest given residence. It did little to quell the disapproval of the others. Not that Vincent cared how they felt.
Returning the scrolls he’d borrowed to their leather containers, he got up from his seat. Rubbing the tiredness from his eyes as he snuffed out his candle. It was time to make a trip to the achieve.
He left his room, wandered the empty hallways—devoid of both people and décor—and found himself walking the cloisters surrounding the courtyard. Even beneath the shadows, his eyes burned from the early morning light. A combination of lack of sleep and having spent the last few hours in dim light.
Many monastery acolytes were gathered in the grass, reading over ancient tomes. Those with the arcane gift practiced basic spells with little success.
One acolyte, a young woman named Iris, came over to greet him. Of all the acolytes, she was the one who tried the hardest to get to know Vincent. Her mother and his had been friends during their time at the monastery in their youth. So, it seemed she wanted the two of them to have a similar relationship.
“Finished already?” she asked. Reaching for the scrolls in Vincent’s hand.
He pulled them away from her hands. “I have.”
“Did you find anything useful?” She slipped around him from behind. Once more trying to take the scrolls. Once more causing Vincent to move them out of reach. “I just want to see what you’ve been reading.”
“That’s my business.”
“Is it more magical creatures?”
“No.”
“The gods?”
“No. Can you go away now?” Vincent really didn’t mind Iris being around him, most of the time. She was very persistent in trying to get him to open up. And with her energetic personality, she almost reminded him of his elder brother, Horace. Though he knew he could never let the two of them be around one another as it would drive him to insanity. If he hadn’t perished alongside every other member of his family.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Having let his thoughts wander to his family, Vincent failed at keeping the scroll away from Iris. She quickly pulled the scroll out of its case before he could snatch it back.
“The Magistrate?” her eyes grew wide. “Why would you want to ever look into them?”
“My business,” Vincent answered as he came to a stop. Glaring at Iris with his hand outreached. Ready for her to return it to him.
Iris complied. Then she gave a smile and took off. “Let’s talk again soon.”
Vincent watched Iris take off. Still unsure whether it was a blessing or a curse that she was one of the few willing to interact with him. Pushing what just happened aside, he continued his way to the archive. His heart racing at the thought of once more exploring the greatest magical library in all of Caembra.
The smell of ancient paper washed over him as he pushed through the oaken door. The echoes of rifling pages filled the air; shelves and racks overflowed with knowledge. Someone had freshly fed the hearth, filling the room with a comforting warmth. Even if he was unable to use magic himself, he found himself pleased just being surrounded by so much history on the subject.
Would Danish have loved this place? His younger brother had not even began to walk, let alone read before his life was cut tragically short. So Vincent often wondered how the youngest Vickery would have felt about studying, or reading in general.
Horace had always been more of a physical child. Preferring to train in weapons and spar with the older boys. Much to their father’s praise. Meanwhile, Vincent found himself unable to care for the monotonous task of swinging a piece of metal at someone until they bled or died. Something he must have gotten from their mother’s side of the family.
He could recall many times Horace tried to get Vincent to put down a book so the two of them could grab sticks and beat each other with them.
Vincent would never admit it, but he had found some enjoyment in doing such things. Not as much as he found joy in reading, but he had been overcome with pride the one—and only—time he managed to beat Horace at swordplay. Though Vincent had always felt that his brother had let him win that exchange in hopes that succeeding at combat would cause him to want to do more of it.
Both their father and Horace were deeply upset when Vincent had shown little interest in fighting even after having won.
“Back already?” It was Lea, the head librarian and Archive Master who had called out to Vincent. She was surprisingly young for someone with her title. Only about in her mid-twenties, and already in charge of maintaining the greatest collection of tomes in the kingdom. A role Vincent would find much pleasure in calling his own one day. But it would be some time before he won over that position. If he even could, not being a part of the monastery himself might make him ineligible for such a title.
“I am,” Vincent answered. Handing over the scrolls to Lea.
“And I’m sure you wish to take something else out with you.
Vincent nodded.
Lea laughed. “If only the others were like you. We wouldn’t have need to dust twice a week if more people read like you do.”
“It’s a shame.”
“Do you know what you want to read next?” Lea was always eager to help the members of the monastery find any material they sought to learn about. And despite the sheer size of the archive—taking up the entire west wing of the monastery as well as two towers—she could easily find any tome, scroll, or loose sheet someone would want. It was as if the knowledge spoke to her. Guiding her step. Though it was difficult to tell if she was using magic to find the tomes, or if she was blessed with eidetic memory.
Taking pause, Vincent considered what he would like to read about next. There were many subjects with delving into. However, the vast variety of options tended to cause him to spend hours thinking in most cases.
Lea then produced a tome bound in red leather from behind her desk. “How about this one? I’m sure you’ll find it enjoyable.”
The tome was embossed with gold lettering: A Dance of Twin Dragons. Lea smiled as she handed it over. “I’m sure you’ll have this returned to me by tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Vincent bowed as he tucked the book under his arm. “Do you have anything more on the Magistrate?”
“You’ve taken quite the interest in that subject. Sadly, you have read through all we have here. Much of the Magistrate went undocumented, and most of what had been written has been destroyed over the ages.”
“I see.” That was not the answer he had wanted, but it was about what Vincent had expected. If the Magistrate had been real, of course the lords and rulers of Caemdra would want to keep it away from the general populace. If people had known such feats were capable with magic, it might not have died out in favor of swords and spears.
“Anything else?”
“No. Thank you again.” While Vincent left feeling a bit disappointed, he was curious about the tome Lea had given him. With its title, he expected it to be less of a historical text and more than likely fiction born from the mind of some bard or scholar out there. Which he had no issues with works of fiction. It helped to keep the mind at ease to partake in stories of pure imagination. Something he never considered doing himself.
“Vincent Vickery,” called a voice the moment he stepped from the archive. Coming from Abbot Xander. Xander was a rather slender man. Very unimposing in stature, but his eyes and face held sharp features. He was a man who had seen his fair share of battle and troubles and then some. The kind of man his father would claim to have ‘A warrior’s spirit’ even if the Abbot himself was not one to seek battle actively. “Pleasure seeing you this morning.”
“Abbot,” Vincent greeted him with a bow.
That caused Xander to let out a slight chuckle. “No need to be so formal. Please.”
“Of course.” The two stood in silence for a moment. Vincent the one to break it. “Did you need something?”
“From you, no,” answered the Abbot. Then he continued, “But since I have you, I would like to speak for a moment. If you’ll come with me.”
Vincent followed the Abbot. They walked by the courtyard, passed the common area, and eventually wound up in the Abbot’s office. It was a cozy little room. Adorned only with a desk, two plush chairs for guests and one for the Abbot himself, and a pitcher of water with two earthenware cups.
Taking a seat, Vincent sat quietly. Watching the Abbot take his place on the opposite side of his desk. “I was surprised when we found you at our doors last year,” the Abbot spoke. “We always wondered if your mother would send you to study with us. But to learn that you came after the unfortunate death of your mother. The news you brought was difficult for us all. Let alone you.”
Silence was the only answer Vincent gave.
“Yes,” Xander continued. “We are more than pleased to house you as long as you need, however, at some point it would please us if you took the oaths. Joined us here, fully. Perhaps we could nourish your mind. Guide you, mold you into something more than you are now.”
“I cannot use magic,” Vincent answered. “I doubt there is much you could do with me that I cannot achieve on my own.”
Xander wore a frown. “Perhaps, but you never know. Even if we cannot teach you, we could help guide your curious mind. And one day, you could even teach the next generation. Even those not blessed by the arcane can teach the ways of the art to others. I just don’t want you to waste away. I know you can be great.”
Rising from his seat, Vincent gave a curt bow. “I’ll consider.” With nothing more to say, he was on his way. Me, an acolyte, he scoffed at the thought. Knowing that once he’d had his fill of knowledge—since it would be impossible to read all that they had collected, no matter how much he tried—he would be on his way. There was nothing that could keep him bound to the monastery, or those who called it home. After all, this wasn’t his home or his family. And after losing them, he had no need for bonds.