It took a moment for Wellynd’s eyes to adjust to the dim light of the oil lamps mounted to the few timber beams that stood in the middle of the tent.

Short, mahogany shelves lined the makeshift shop’s small perimeter, an odd array of items carelessly piled on each one. At the far end of the tent sat a wooden desk backed by a dark curtain. The pungent scent of incense filled the air; small curls of smoke drifted and dissipated around him, casting the room in a preternatural haze.

Wellynd stifled a cough.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around, so he began to browse a nearby shelf.

Almost immediately, he felt a pang of disappointment.

Most of the items here were of the same dubious nature as the counterfeits he’d seen in the street. Crystal skulls, nickel-bound tomes, engraved bone-wands. All the regular junk.

He was walking down the row of shelves, brushing his fingers against random items, his excitement quickly waning when something caught his eye. He picked up a gilded scroll case sitting on top of one of the shelves close to the back of the tent. The firelight from the oil lamp behind him danced off the metal as he ran his hands over the etchings carved around the centre of the cylinder.

At first glance, he didn’t recognize the markings at all, but there was something familiar about them.

He looked around. There was still no one in sight.

He raised the metal to his teeth and bit down on it. Raising an eyebrow, he pulled it away and looked at it more closely.

Not even a dent.

The thing was probably made from painted Magstun. When heated, the ore, abundant to Ars Illuve, could be shaped almost as easily as gold, but became harder, though brittler, than iron once it cooled.

It was a common metal for counterfeiters to use, as it took on gold paint exceptionally well. Bilge was notorious for selling idols made of the stuff to naive pilgrims crossing through Port Alshin whenever he could catch their eye.

Rotating the scroll-case, he stared at the markings again.

He knew he’d seen them somewhere.

Then it hit him. Wellynd started to giggle. He couldn’t help himself.

This was Uskrit: a completely fictional language from Tales of Usum. In one of the earlier stories, one that Wellynd must have read at least a dozen times, Usum had been betrayed by one of his comrades in his party of heroes, Fulkas. Usum didn’t want Fulkas to know he was onto his treachery so he began to develop a language that he shared with only his closest allies. Using their secret form of communication, they were eventually able trick Fulkas into leading them to their enemy, Varden. Usum vanquished them both by calling down lightning from the heavens.

Wellynd sighed. He had been so enraptured by the stories when he was younger that he had memorised every letter and word of Uskrit that he could get his hands on. Him and Klof would leave messages with chalk on the side of buildings around town.

He closed his eyes in happy memory and made a mental note to go talk to Neera’s brother about Usum when he got back to Kellek’s Watch.

He opened his eyes again and tried to decipher the script; he was a little rusty.

“Th….this……..scroll….con.container…contains…no-” he started to read aloud.

“-thing. This scroll contains nothing” uttered a soft voice from behind him.

Startled, Wellynd dropped the scroll which bounced off the wooden shelf before landing on the cobblestone ground.

He felt his face turn hot.

Turning around, a middle-age woman, with weathered sunkist skin and droopy eyes, her long red hair pulled back by a grey bandana, stood before him.

She wore a simple baggy brown robe, and a violet crystal pendant hung affixed to a silver chain around her neck.

“I uh... Didn’t think…””

She smiled and raised her hand in a calming gesture.

“I’m guessing from the way you bit that scroll that you should know you don’t have to be too concerned about damaging it.”

“Yeah, still…sorry. You scared me.” he replied, leaning down to pick the scroll and hand it out to her.

A mischievous pleasure flashed across her eyes as she glanced down at it.

“I’m surprised that you could read that. I don’t know anyone over the age of ten who reads Tales of Usum.”

Wellynd blushed again. “Yeah, well, there’s not a lot to do where I come from.”

“Ah. Makes sense. You’re an islander, yes?”

He straightened. “That’s right. Is it that obvious?”

“No, not really. I just recognize one of my own.”

Wellynd relaxed, “Wow, what town?”

“Sulfur Cove.”

“Ah, from the west side eh? I’m from Kellek’s Watch.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Kellek’s Watch? You wouldn’t happen to be related to Berty Snellium would you?”

“No. But I’m friends with his son.”

She gave pause for a moment before relaxing her shoulders. “Ah. Thank goodness.” she said, smirking.

Wellynd laughed.

“So, looking for something foreign and exotic are we? I imagine your fondness for children's fairy tales has you hoping you’ll find something of a magical nature...You should be about to take your trials, no?”

He sighed before holding up his hand and showing her the mark on the back.

“Just had them.”

She rolled up her sleeve and showed him the same mark on the back of her hand. Even though she was probably close to fifty years old, the mark hadn’t faded even slightly.

“It’s not so bad, trust me.” she offered.

“Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me,” he said, looking down at his feet before readjusting himself and looking back into her eyes. He didn’t notice before but they were violet, just like her pendant.”

“There are things that can...help.”

“What, all this junk?” he replied without thinking “Oh...uh...sorry.”

If the comment bothered her, it didn’t show.

“Come with me.”

Hesitating only for a moment, Wellynd followed after her.

She made her way to the back of the tent, adjusting some of the items on the shelves as she went. Ambling around the counter, she pulled the sheer curtain to one side and gestured for him to enter.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The back section of the tent was about a quarter the size of the front. Near the back sat a small wooden desk, on which stood the room's only source of light, three small candles.

It was the few objects that sat on a long thin wooden table to his left that caught his attention, however.

Spaced out almost perfectly, there were four roughly square objects on the table. Their neat placing seemed almost suspicious, like all of this was staged, but he couldn’t help but get a little excited. Thinking about Usum’s adventures had the tendency to make him a little over-imaginative.

“Take a look.” the shopkeeper said.

Wellynd slowly walked down the side of the table, glancing back at the woman, who gave him a nod, before picking up the first object. It was a brass sphere with several curved lines engraved into its surface.

“Its called Deakon’s Conduct.” the woman said from behind him. She had come a few steps closer and he could faintly feel her breath on the back of his ear. “They say it was made by elite Vertan Engineers, and amplifies the user’s ability to attain power.”

Wellynd knew that there was probably at least some truth to this. He knew that brass had something to do with magic, and had noticed on his deliveries that many objects in the Observatory were made from brass. Including the fence that lines the perimeter. He’d noticed that Selkis had several brass trinkets, not entirely dissimilar from this one, sitting on the shelves in his office.

“Cool.” he said, ultimately disinterested, but holding it for a second to make it seem like he was impressed.

The next two objects were also made of brass. The shopkeep gave him similar stories about them; Wellynd’s hopes continued to sink. Again, most of this felt like a lie wrapped in a thin veneer of truth.

He was well aware of the tactic; he’d seen several of the crewmembers of the Brinebreaker swindle folks out of money over the years.

The fourth item, however, was quite different.

On the table lay a solid chunk of jet black stone. Its side was matte and smooth, but the top of it looked coarse and dotted with small pecks of cerulean.

He picked it up, turning it to feel its different textures.

He had no idea what kind of stone it was, but it somehow felt empty, despite it being quite heavy for its size.

“You have a good eye. This is one of my rarest artefacts.”

Wellynd wasn’t quite sure that artefact was the right word, but his interest was piqued.

“Where’s it from?”

“I acquired it from a merchant in the market quarter of Montefyd, but it hails from much further away. From the mountainous reaches of Rel.”

Wellynd looked up, eyeing her suspiciously. The Rellians were apparently the first ones to tap into magic, and because of that, many ancient artefacts were said to have come from their lands.

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that...” he said, gesturing towards the front end of the shop.

She laughed. “Fair enough. Would a demonstration of some sort put your mind at ease?”

“Sure.”

She took the stone from his hand and held it in front of her, closing her eyes and relaxing her shoulders.

It took a second for Wellynd to notice, but he began to see a deep purple haze emanate from her body.

At first it was barely a dim outline, but as she continued to focus, sweat began to bead on her forehead, and the light grew expanding outwards until the eerie glow illuminated the whole room.

Wellynd watched in wonder as the stone in her hand began to radiate bright orange, the whole scene now a brilliant display of dancing colours.

Suddenly, the light cut out, the soft glow of the oil lamp regaining dominance in the small room.

“What happened?”

The merchant wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow, breathing heavily.

“It is rumoured to have been mined from deep within the earth, beneath the Mountain of Sahr Amyl; how it works, I don’t know. But its presence helps you manipulate the latent energies around you. Watch.”

The smell of burning cedar became distinct again, and Wellynd watched as the woman began to wave her hands in an intricate pattern.

The smoke in the room seemed to obey her command, following her fingers as she weaved tiny threads into a shape in front of her and then directed them towards the three candles sitting on the desk.

Suddenly, Wellynd was plunged into darkness.

He heard some rustling, and then the striking of the match as the woman relit the candles, the glow casting menacing shadows on her face.

Wellynd stood awestruck as light returned to the room.

“You try.” she said, breathing heavily and handing the stone back to him.

He took the stone and looked at her, confused.

Smiling, she placed her hand on his arm.

“You know how to pull in the energies around you, yes? Try that first.”

Swallowing, Wellynd nodded. He didn’t want to tell her about the pain. He hoped he could hide it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and attended to the air around him. Bracing himself, he began to pull, immediately feeling the hot touch of energy against his skin.

“Open your eyes” he heard her say.

He did so, and nearly gasped, almost losing grip on the energy. Purple mist swirled around him; the same glow he had seen coming from the merchant. He looked down at the stone in his hand and almost dropped it; it glowed a hot yellow, as if it had come straight from the bowels of the earth.

And then he realised something else.

He didn’t feel any pain.

As the violet haze swept around him, he closed his eyes again and pulled harder. He felt good. This is what he must have been missing out on.

He relished the feel of the energy as it coursed through him; it was euphoric.

Then, just as he tried to concentrate the abundant energy into his chest, he heard a low rumble as the ground beneath his feet shook. His ears suddenly popped and the mist around him was swept away, the candles snuffing out and plunging them back into darkness.

He stopped.

The rock had lost its glow.

A moment passed before he heard the striking of the match and watched in confusion as the shopkeep relit the candles. She looked at him curiously, almost as if she was deliberating about what to say next.

“Well…I don’t know what happened there. I’ve….never seen…or felt.. Anything like that. You’re originally from Kellek’s Watch you said?”

Wellynd nodded.

“Hmm.” she scratched her cheek as she eyed him up and down. “You must have some affinity with this stone. For what reason or how that came to be I cannot know” she finally said.

“Did I break it?” he replied.

She laughed. “No. I don’t think so. But I’ve never seen anyone interact with it like that before.” she hesitated before adding “I normally don’t do this but…well I can’t give you the stone for free, but I think you are supposed to have it…what can you afford?”

Wellynd calculated what he needed to get back home. He already had the ferry sorted out, and his only extra cost was the Crest’s Inn.

He had the extra money, but he didn’t want to part with all of it.

“I can give you 5 Grell” he said. He had twelve.

She sighed, hesitating for a moment before holding out her hand “You are cutting my margins very thin.”

Wellynd didn’t fully believe her, but something told him he had to have the stone. He was going to take anything that could help him figure out what was wrong with him at this point. Even if it was a scam, he felt no pain when he used it. That alone was worth his money.

Handing over his coins, Wellynd thanked the merchant before rushing back out into the front section of the tent. Oddly, the smoke had cleared quite a bit in the front section of the store, but he figured it must have been because they had snuffed out all the candles in the back.

He took a deep breath and was about to push out into the street when the woman’s voice called out. He turned to see her standing with her hand holding the back curtain, her shadowy figure made more menacing by her violet eyes.

“Be careful who you show that to, okay?” she warned with a wry smile.

“Yeah. Sure. Will do. Maybe I’ll see you on the island sometime.” he responded.

The shopkeeper just hummed a laugh and receded into the back, letting the curtain fall closed.

Wellynd turned and pushed his way back out into the square. He looked around and was surprised to find this area of the square almost empty. How long had he been in there?

He tossed the stone back and forth between his hands, and turned it around, marvelling at its beauty. Did he just waste his money? Part of him wanted to forget his delivery and head back to the hotel to test his new artefact further.

Suddenly, someone called out from one of the side alleys that branched off the square.

“I knew you were dumb but I didn’t think you’d get scammed that easy...” said the nasally voice.

Wellynd stopped as he caught the glint of silver from the corner of his eye. He turned to face the figure, who emerged from shadow of one of the crumbling buildings. It took a second for Wellynd to realize it was the monk he had bumped into earlier, his hood still pulled over his head.

“You can spend your money on junk like that but can’t spare a coin for the poor?” said the monk, shaking the rather full-sounding urn in his hand.

“Uh…sorry…I don’t...” started Wellynd stepping back a few steps.

The figure pulled back his hood and gave him a toothy smile. Wellynd relaxed.

It was Slim, one of the errand boys for the Mox Ambrum. His long, greasy hair was pulled back in a ponytail behind his head, accentuating his high cheekbones and gaunt face, the brown burlap cloak hiding his wiry frame.

“You should probably pay more attention to your surroundings, you nump. I was trying to get your attention in the square. You’ve wasted half my day now. Let’s go.” he said, putting his hood up and turning back down the alley.

Wellynd slipped the stone into one of his pockets under his robe and followed Slim into the darkness.