Black Magus

Two and a half weeks after our adjusted training regimen began, I emerged from the shadows of the service wing at sundown much like any other day to find. Finding Toril, Jaimess, and Jonet seated at the bar before an overtly cheerful Gerolt.

“Your Grace.” He bowed to me after noticing my presence, yet continued on before I could even speak. “I’m scheduled to leave on a hunting trip in a few hours. Would you like to accompany me?”

“I’d love to.” I genuinely smiled, settling into my seat. “What are we hunting and when are we leaving?”

“We’ll be departing in the third hour of the morning. I aim to gather a month's worth of provisions.” He tapped at a sheet of paper on the table before him. “The first item on my list is rabbits. Though we’ll be hunting big game and doing a bit of fishing as well.”

“So be it. We’ll be waiting at the main entrance.” I nodded, then turned to my vassals and their somewhat inquisitive stares. “No training tonight. Take the time to study, rest, and pack your gear for…” I turned to Gerolt with a raised brow. Only for him to stare back for a solid two seconds before catching on.

“3 days. Pack for three days.”

While each of them tried to hide it in their own way, they were betrayed by visibly relaxed postures and not-so-subtle sighs of relief falling into my half-drow ears. ‘Don’t get complacent. Our days off will most certainly be made up when we return.’ I chuckled to myself.

Post an otherwise ordinary meal, I returned to my room to stuff a few extra pairs of clothes into my shadow pocket out of force of habit alone. I wore the same clothes always. Thus the fine tunics and robes in my wardrobe were for show, I assumed. Regardless, I spent the next several hours practicing mana manipulation by moving the chairs and tables around. Then migrated to the library to lounge about and read the few books I had yet to touch. Mainly about the many pantheons or religions and the hundreds of gods and goddesses of the Mortal Plane. Most of whom; I learned, inhabited the few 'stars' seen in the otherwise empty night sky. The others; I presumed, were either dead, sealed away, or walking among us in this vast world as demigods or something.

By the time it came to rendezvous with Gerolt, I had officially read through everything in the library and now found myself racking my brain as I waddled towards the exterior grounds; for I now had an abundance of free time and I needed an efficient way to use it. With only the need to meditate for four hours a night, I’d usually awake around five in the evening or so and practice mana manipulation until sunset. After, I’d take breakfast and head off to train with my vassals. And while they slept, I would study and write until around one in the afternoon. A boring and monotonous schedule for sure, but one that would pay off dividends in the future.

With reading marked off that list, however, I was now struggling to replace it with something worthwhile. Something outside the realm of more training. I could’ve learned to play a new musical instrument or learn the arts of politics from my father, I assumed. But I wanted to travel, explore, and invent. Though, regrettably, I was too young for such things in my parent's eyes. Thus I struggled and struggled to find my answer. Only for it to find me.

Or rather, him. The perfect attorney to plead my case for independence. The gruff, silver-haired chef himself, Gerolt Flay. His boyish exuberance would act in my favor without the need for my intervention. I only had to prove our case over the course of our hunting trip.

As promised, he was waiting in the exterior yards with nothing but a black bag tied to his belt paired with a bow and quiver slung over his shoulder.

‘Do we have no horses- or... dog sleds?’ I wondered as he greeted the lot of us and began stepping down the path. Looking back, I’d not seen a single horse or anything that could act as a mount around the estate; much less read about within the Empire. I didn’t even know if the concept of carriages existed here, what with enchanted trains and whatnot. Not to mention, it was entirely possible that magic entirely negated the need for such things to develop. ‘If that’s the case, what other concepts in this world are entirely foreign?’

I decided to add the question to the list of ever-growing inquiries and turned my attention to the pewter-haired man. “Say, Gerolt. What’s it like in the Empire? What kind of creatures are found out here?” Though I had indeed read a bestiary or three, it didn’t hurt to gain a hunter’s perspective on the matter.

“There are many different animals that dwell among us in our Empire. The more dangerous ones have magical abilities, like Winter Wolves, Stone Mammoths, Ice Saber Tigers, and Frostbite Bears; but those creatures are only found on the mainland. All of the creatures of our Deap Ridge are ordinary creatures. And there are far too many for me to name.”

After I acknowledged his words, Gerolt continued to talk and teach us how to track and think like the animals we were hunting; in this case rabbits. It took him not long to find some droppings and guide us on a few-minutes stalk until he suddenly stopped to draw his bow and creep slowly toward a clear shot, wherein he stopped; knocked an arrow; took aim through the shrubs. Then released.

Scrying through the shade of a nearby tree, I saw a pure white rabbit tumble violently across the ground, painting the snow and itself with crimson, steaming blood. In turn, Gerolt darted through the bushes, sliding to a knee to put it out of its misery with a swift stab in the neck. Then he solemnly paused to give respect before retrieving both his bounty and his arrow.

“Each of you will take turns hunting on your own.” He then declared, holding out the bow at arm's length.

Judging from his gaze, he seemed keen on us using the bow instead of magic and so I followed along with only a sigh. A bit of hamster-wheeling later, I was operating under the presumption that it had something to do with classes or would at least get my body used to drawing and firing bows; if only minutely.

We continued in such a manner, leading Gerolt behind us as we tracked, stalked, killed, and retrieved a rabbit for each of us. An effort that had lasted until sunrise, wherein Gerolt decided it was a good time for a butchery class paired with breakfast. It was the standard method that I’d seen and done dozens of times, however, thus my mind turned to other things. At least until he pulled some rather large firewood from his curiously small bag and began roasting the meat over an open flame to later be served with bread.

A devastatingly bland meal for my tongue that had grown so privileged over the last seven years.

After our meal, much the same process was repeated as we went on to hunt some big game. A process that I was again more than familiar with and thus put most of my attention towards the surrounding environment; similar as it was to what I’ve seen thus far. Only with color by virtue of the light. Annoying though that may have been, even with the enchantments in my Shadow Veil protecting me from its rays. Nevertheless, we wandered until we spotted a herd of some type of white elk with vertical brown stripes along their bodies. Elk, though they were, they were also large like moose and seemed to eat the bark from the smaller ice trees. A beautiful, majestic beast.

“How many of them do you want?” I whispered to Gerolt before he could speak. He silently held up two fingers before I turned to whisper in Toril’s ear. And together, we crept forth towards the brush.

As we got settled into place, Toril picked up a small stone and grasped tightly it in his fist. Then gave me a solemn nod before reaching his arm through the bushes. I did the same. And within the snap of a finger, a small Death Bullet flicked away from my finger whilst an air cannon fired off from Toril's palm with a relatively loud bang; sending his spinning little stone racing through his target's heart like a shot from a high-powered rifle.

Although it was a perfect shot, adrenaline saw it buck and run off deeper into the woodline, chased by a cursing Toril. The elk I’d struck with the Death Bullet, however, simply fell lifelessly to the ground as soon as the spell made contact. There was no resistance or sign that made me think it’d truly died. It simply… collapsed in place. It was the first living thing I’d ever touched with the magic; besides trees of course, and seeing its power made me recall my grandfather’s words. It was truly a devastating power. Unconcerned with whom it touches, indiscriminate in effect. Though I was sure that I wasn’t even scratching the surface of its true capabilities.

Gerolt seemed to have a dissatisfied- if not somber expression as he went to retrieve it. Yet said nothing in the moment or even after he’d gathered his quarry and followed the trail blazed by Toril. Nor did he speak once the quarry had been secured, other than some words to follow him on an arduous southward hike. It was curious, to say the least. I began to think he was part wood elf or something. But such thoughts didn't go far beyond that. My legs were hurting and the sun was becoming ever more annoying, even whilst being partially hidden behind the canopy.

By sundown, the sounds of rushing water befell my ears. Mere moments after, the distant trees began clearing to grant us views of a towering railway of stone and iron running parallel to the coast. It was similar to the great Roman aqueducts in both scale and in the number of arches. One of which was our destination. Moderate in size. At least large enough for us to fit in but expanded upon with two tents set up like wings on either side of the archway.

“We’ll spend the night here and go fishing in the morning." Gerolt yawned from his bedroll. "Feel free to do as you please. Just don’t venture too far. Please.”

While my vassals nodded and began wandering off to do whatever, I stayed back and watched Gerolt build a campfire next to one of the wings of our tent. I thought it strange that he’d spend days wandering- walking alone in the woods every month. Judging from his usually amiable demeanor, I assumed these trips served as a sort of stress relief for him and decided to give him a bit of solitude.

Entering my Wraith Form, I ascended toward the canopy to study the towering architecture we were living under. The entirety of the island’s coast; or more aptly, cliff, was comprised of either a sheer wall or a gradient that was far too steep to build anything on. Positioned atop the summit at regular intervals were dry docks filled with wooden, canopied gondolas that gave access to what I was sure were frozen waters far below. Before that was the elevated band of stone and iron under which we camped. Not only an enchantment-powered maglev track. It was a functioning aqueduct as well. One flowing with steaming water.

Satisfied, I returned to camp to see Gerolt cooking a blatantly unseasoned stew of rabbit meat and forage. The sight made me frown. The thought made me relocate away from camp to upend the ground and begin sifting through the dirt until I found a pocket of clay. After gathering enough of the stuff, I went around collecting sticks and twigs to begin crafting a pair of kilns. Then repeated more or less the same process to make several pots alongside a few large buckets before stuffing them into the kiln.

“I had no idea His Grace knew pottery.” I heard Gerolt comment under his breath as I lit up the fires of my creation.

I said nothing. Instead, I approached the second furnace to carve out a large pit beneath the domed chamber and fill it with wood. The top of the furnace, on the other hand, was ventilated with a few large pinholes before it too was ignited. And just in time for my vassals to return too. So, like any good leader, I had them assist me in skewering the meat and hanging them in the upper chamber of my pit before they retired for the night. A night of wandering, contemplation, and meditation later, we awoke to a breakfast of smoked meat. Causing Gerolt to again comment about his lack of knowledge regarding my skills before showing ignorance toward the concept of smoking. The latter of which, I assumed was due to our relative proximity to the White Wall. As food could be preserved just by leaving it outside, there was no need for such food preservation techniques to arise in the region. And so they didn't.

Rather than tear down camp after breakfast, we migrated to the gondolas to descend to the surprisingly gentle seas for a day on the water. Admiring the expansive views as we rowed out to different pockets of water to drop anchor and either fish or dive into the waters below. In doing so, I found fishing to be a surprisingly simple endeavor; as we simply had to pull streams or bubbles of water containing fish through a hole in the deck and deposit them on board. All the while admiring the expansive views afforded to us. Endless views of choppy blue water and the massive wall of black stone behind us. Verdant views of the green line of land to the southeast, representing Epethia. Majestic views of the aurora-like green glow tinting the upper eastern skies.

However, those views were rivaled by the vibrant world hidden beneath the surface, made all the more accessible by water manipulation. Through it, I could not only reduce the drag on my body but sort of squeeze the water around me to propel myself forward as well. Greatly expanding the distance I could travel in a single breath. Not to mention, the entire region was shrouded in darkness at the proper depth. At higher depths, however, the coastal waters contained an expansive shelf of vibrant reefs populated by an uncountable populous of crustaceans, fish, and marine mammals; the latter of whom seemed utterly unconcerned with our presence.

Such an amazing day ended with our return to the gondolas with a huge bounty of fish along with several buckets of seawater. A seemingly humorous ending according to Gerolt, as he looked out at the waters beyond with a strange look in his eye. Though that may have been from the smoked rabbit he was chomping on.

“We’ve managed to gather everything on my list in just two days.” He chuckled again before turning to us with a gracious smile. “You all are truly exceptional!”

“I assume this means we’ll be heading back to the estate?” I asked after my vassals addressed the compliment.

“After we rest and harvest salt, yes.” Gerolt nodded, gesturing to the buckets. “We’ll follow a particular foraging route on our way back, and then our hunting trip will be complete.”

“I see.” I nodded. “In that case, there are a few more food preservation techniques I know of that I can write down for you. As thanks for having us accompany you.”

“Oh?” Gerolt humbly chuckled. “The pleasure was mine, Your Grace. But… if you wouldn’t mind giving me an idea of what these techniques are?”

For whatever reason, I turned to meet the inquisitive eyes of my vassals before chuckling to myself. “Very well. But it's going to use up at least half of an elk.”