The Way of the Sorcerer: A 'The Wandering Inn' Fanfiction

Once more, the world shifted. It joined world-ending threats such as the Creler Wars, the tyrannical empires of Selphid and half-Elf, the Long Night, the Dragonwars, Tiernas… the list could go on for some time.

At the end of each catastrophe, an era. The long-lived understand that the world ebbs and flows with catastrophe; the Gnolls know this too well, as one of the few races wise enough to remember.

‘The Journey of the Living’, [Archmage] Kishkeria called it. From her and her allies’ words, the world once more changed irrevocably. Ghosts passing on secrets from beyond the grave, which now laid empty. For the first time, additional functionality for a certain class. Forces of good and evil both recuperating, preparing for the next phase of the fight.

Despite everything, life went on.

Ivory Henderson and his group’s experience at the twilight of The Waning World was just one in a list of millions that stood face-to-face against the end of the world.

Few were flung across the world, though.

———————————————————

Funnily enough, it wasn't the first time this had happened. The nauseous feeling upon waking up somewhere you don’t remember was tempered by his surprisingly clear memory.

He was just glad for a lie down in a comfortable bed. With a quick flip of his pillow, he decided that the realm of sleep was preferable to thinking about where he was. Surely he had earnt that right. Right?

Wrong. Dogs began falling out of the sky with each knock he heard. Curse the concentration required for his [Slumber Mnemonic].

The first thing he noticed was the lack of natural light. He was certain it was at least day time, as he felt completely rested—a patch of spellwork on the ceiling was providing a dim, orange glow. Vastly different to the runes he was used to seeing that provided lighting.

He had the same clothes on, including his Bag of Holding. Not robbed: good, he thought. A few paces away was the door, with a wooden rack, presumably for clothes; this was a room for sleeping and naught else. He knew that opening this door would set into motion whatever that ghost, Jerom, had envisaged. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

“Huh.”

It wasn’t a hostel, it turned out. The door opened into a generous living space—he could see a sitting area, a kitchen, a dining space, as well as see-through sliding doors that led to a spacious, grassy garden.

Perhaps most dazzling was the colour space: blindingly, dazzlingly white. The… morning?... sun seemed to dance across the walls, illuminating the little bumps and lumps that made up the infrastructure of the charming flat.

The contrast of the brown wood that made up the furniture and the bone-white walls was one that made him raise an eyebrow, but he was no [Architect].

Knock, knock. It was a bit louder now that he was close to the source.

The windows revealed no clue as to his visitor’s identity, though the mass of plants and trees he saw in the distance made him wonder, for the first time, where he actually was.

The ‘can’t-go-back-now’ trepidation had come and gone already, so he just opened the door without more thought.

“Excellent, excellent. A great sleep, I take it. May I come in?”

A reptilian figure, wearing a green button-up shirt, towered over him. It took Ivory a moment to respond, but fuck it, really.

“Sure.”

He surprised himself at how rough he sounded. Like he’d been on a bender, or something.

“Good man. Yanzix—[Guildmistress] and [Mayor] of our charming little slice of paradise. I know you’re going to be bursting with questions, such as ‘where am I?’ ‘Where are my friends?’ And, of course, ‘where’s the bathroom?’ In reverse: in the garden to the side, Nozumu and lil’ Missy are in town—whom I of course have already met—and Baleros! You just woke up, right? Come, I’ll show you.”

And they hadn’t even managed to sit down. Before he knew it, Yanzix had slithered to the back of the room and gone outside.

“See here? Just head in, and there’s a latrine along with bathing facilities. No showers like you might be used to; just bucket yourself and you’re good to go.”

The Naga nodded to herself, satisfied.

“I’m quite excited, you see. Go bathe, and I’ll wait inside for you. You’re running at 1% at the moment, I can tell—go on. I’ll grab you a change of clothes.”

And away she went. As far as things went, this was certainly one of them. Nagas, he knew, were the most common ‘evolution’ of Lizardpeople—refreshingly frank, if a little… abrupt?

Whatever. He was alive and safe—talkative snake-lizards he could deal with.

————————————————————

“My, don’t you look dapper. A phrase used by Terandrian royalty, which you are of course not. No red hair, see.”

Yanzix had helped herself to a pitcher of water from, well, his fridge, and was sitting in the living space. Surprisingly, she wasn’t coiled like a snake; she sat like a regular person would, as if she was a regular person wearing a mermaid costume. Off-putting.

He took her comment at face value. She’d left for him a pair of undergarments, sandals, as well as a baggy shirt and pants. It had the colour and look of hessian, but felt like wearing a sheet.

“You could dye it, though.”

The end of her tail beat against the floor lightly, amused.

“Then you’d be that guy who dyed his hair. Never a good look with you Humans, or so I’m told. We get few around these parts. I must apologise for the abruptness of my visit, and I hope you are all wide awake.”

“Honestly, it was a bit refreshing. You and the shower, I mean. I dunno how much Nozumu told you, but over the past, what, two months? I’ve been back and forward between so many places, not having had time to really define myself anywhere. Stayed a bit in Calanfer, then Pheislant, Drath, back to Pheislant, and now I’ve been teleported to yet another continent. I’m just going along with it.”

Ivory flopped onto a couch, sinking in several inches. Yanzix smiled.

“The best thing you could have said, because we want you here. Truthfully, it’s because you’re an Earther, but most of our [Mages] leave for Wistram long before they hit Level 20 and few come back to tutor. And we love a fresh face.”

Yanzix brought the handleless cup to her face with both hands and took a delicate sip. Ivory put his head back and closed his eyes.

“Look, I’ll be honest—I’ve never done this kind of thing with someone that, well, didn’t come here with intent. Levaintsil isn’t as rural as far as Balerosian settlements go, but it’s not one your average Naga is going to settle in; if you’ve come here, it’s planned. Something that can’t be said of you, my friend. It will take you time to settle in, and you will be overwhelmed, hot, sweaty, and you’ll work hard… Baleros gives back what you put in, and we’re a magical society, here.”

Ivory brought his head forward. That got his attention.

“You mean like Wistram? He did say he’d…”

Ivory tapered off in thought, but the comparison made Yanzix raise an eyebrow at the pronoun.

“We—no, not quite Wistram. Ah, dead gods; should’ve led with that. Levaintsil’s defining feature is our Polytechnic. Enrolment is mandatory from age 13 to learn a trade skill of choice, and of course to learn magic, if you are not already attending from childhood. While everyone in Fissival has the [Mage] class, her Draconae Scholarium permits only students of magic. Hmm, it’s best you see for yourself. Our ride’s just outside.”

Without waiting for his response, Yanzix sprung up and slithered towards the fridge to deposit the pitcher of water.

“I want to hear about your ghostly encounter on our way into town, too. Up you get—our ride’s just outside. There we go. It’ll be quite hot outside, so brace yourself; with any luck we'll get a channel breeze.”

Ivory’s sandal crunched on a tough piece of mud, jolting him back to reality.

“A what?”

“Non-Balerosians, I keep forgetting! Whitewash Channel runs horizontally through Baleros; Levaintsil is situated on its shores. Drat—I was going to push that onto Herian. [Memorise Speech]. We’ll take a scenic route while I give you a history lesson. A right turn here—left takes you into the heart of the vineyard.”

In truth, Ivory was mesmerised by the swaying of Yanzix’s tail as she moved; it was like a… shiny, elastic metronome.

A clunk snapped him out of it. Ivory looked and recoiled.

“Terrorbird.”

“Something from your world, perhaps? We have on record that they are similar to Emus from Australia—”

“It’s pronounced e-myoo. Not e-moo.”

Fair play to Yanzix—it was quite similar to an emu, in the same way that it was a huge bird with a long neck and legs, but this animal was green. A bright, lime green; its feathers weren’t as scraggly as an emu’s, looking more avian, like a parrot’s or pigeon’s. Its posture was excellent: its long, thick neck was craned upwards, and its head was more in proportion to the size of its body—that is to say, quite big. An emu of identical size would have a head half its size.

Yanzix was half way up the ramp that gave her access to the tall carriage when it shuddered at the slap of her tail.

“Oh, really? I’ll have the index updated. It’s similar to Chandrarian ostriches, though the common nedge can’t be ridden. Strong legs, but can’t bear much weight on it. Our [Breeders] and [Animal Handlers] raise them to roam fields to kill pests and, as you can see, some [Carriage Drivers] use them. No horses here. We’re under the dominion of the Maelstrom’s Howling company, you see. A—the Centaur company. Rhir’s hells, we should prepare a short ‘introduction to Baleros’ course. Listen up, now: like all good stories, it begins with an [Archmage].”

____________________________________________

It was [High Mage] Xeissa of the Revivalists, among many others, that saw the writing on the wall. That Wistram, the exalted academy of [Mages], was heading towards a direction yet unseen by modern [Mages]. The academy’s power was waxing alongside its current, most notable [Archmage]: Zelkyr.

As a Revivalist, Xeissa became concerned with the hoarding of Zelkyr’s power; the lack of [Golem Artificers] not under his own tutelage spawned dark thoughts, uttered only by the most trusted of secret brokers.

In the age of true [Archmages], [High Mages] at Wistram were not uncommon. Where now a [High Mage] would be held to a high esteem by merit of their level and accomplishment, nearing the height of Zelkyr’s reign of Wistram it was [Grand Magi] that assumed that position.

Xeissa was a level 41 [High Mage of Spellcraft], having consolidated at level 34. She earned her permanent residency at the academy for her contributions to early curriculum, providing spellbooks for first and second year students.

Like all permanent residents, her primary allegiance was not to the betterment of the academy, but her own personal ventures.

You see, [High Mage] Xeissa hailed from the quaint little Lizardfolk village of Levaintsil, a then sparsely populated fishing village on the banks of the Whitewash Channel. A village of no renown; [Captains] that sailed across the channel had it marked on their maps as a site to buy and trade for fresh seafood.

A few Lizardfolk per generation strove for a life outside of their village. In Xeissa’s case, the community rallied to obtain the 20 gold piece entry fee to the academy, through blood and sweat; the nearest settlement with a Mage’s Guild was two days’ travel east along the coastline.

And thank the stars, she had an aptitude for magic. Admittedly, she did shoehorn herself into the creation of scrolls, and later spellbooks, so that she could send some money back home.

And my, was that successful. Her first spellbook of Tier 0 spells was completed only two years after her graduation: from there, her residency required her to create two spellbooks a year, increasing in detail and power with her proficiency over time.

The next 20 years of her life was just that: socialising, sleeping and spellbooks. Her Skills granted her the ability to churn out two high-grade spellbooks consisting of Tier 2 and 3 non-combat spells in a month. The remaining 15 months consisted of Tier 0 and 1 spellbooks creation to send back home for them to sell.

There was just one issue with Xeissa’s life. No, it didn’t have anything to do with the tens of thousands of gold that Levaintsil had in raw gold at any given time; it was so remote that no [Pirates] or [Bandits] even knew it had anything of value, let alone of its existence. Nor was it her extremely limited Skillset towards the composition of spellbooks; her combat abilities rivalled that of a second year student.

Not that anyone had said anything to her about it—she had the sympathy and friendship of her original peers, [Grand Magi] all, to supply her with the expensive magical paper and ink. No, it was her levelling stagnation.

Perish the thought. But it was her, the [High Mage], and of her peers that had reached beyond level 50 as [Grand Magi] of their respective fields. A class like hers levelled by scribing more difficult spells, rather than simply repeating the same thing over, and over, and over again. That had reached her level 40.

Tier 4 spells were considerably more difficult than Tier 3, and inspiration was hard to come by. She simply had no interest in it—she was content, truly.

That was, until [Archmage] Zelkyr pierced the upper floors and refused to share its bounty, and employed his masterful golems to patrol the academy. His academy.

Xeissa knew of spy-states, and she had no interest in it.

For all she loved her first home, she had grown accustomed to the… everything of Wistram academy. And Levaintsil had nothing of the sort. She—

___________________________

Ivory had dozed off. He was interested, truly! But man, it began to drag. The smashing of metal against wood jolted him awake; a quick look out the window showed teams of Lizardfolk chopping timber and systematic moving of metal and planks. [Builders], probably.

Yanzix hadn’t stopped her memorised speech, and he wasn’t sure where in the story she was up to.

‘Good’, he thought, ‘maybe it’s getting better.’

____________________________

With the money she had hoarded, both in her own coffers and Levaintsil’s, her new dream had the chance of becoming reality. Her own little academy.

All the feverish planning on that long boat home revealed to her that a magical academy wouldn’t work without first growing the space, and being part of a larger community from which to draw from. Which Levaintsil did not have, as it was… austere.

How, then, to proceed. She had convinced ten junior [Mages] of varying talents to join her, but that wasn’t the end of the equation. Wistram wasn’t built in a day.

The call had gone out to Mage’s Guilds on Terandria’s shores. Do you want to start a new life across the ocean, on the beautiful chalk channels of Levaintsil? Are you after a change of scenery, for an opportunity to level and meet new people?

And be paid handsomely?

After departing from Terandria, nine boats set sail from small municipalities across Terandria’s shores, packed with hundreds of men and women, young and old, looking for something new—everything that a village needed to become something more.

[Builders]. [Healers]. [Street Runners], [Labourers], [Scribes], [Farmers], Adventurers, [Adventurers], [Mapmakers], two [Apiarists]...

And more. Lizardfolk from down the channel came looking for work, who then brought their family and friends…

Somehow, it all worked. Temporary homes were ready for the Terandrian workers, food and drink was freely available, and [High Mage] Xeissa did what all good leaders did: delegate, delegate and delegate. Her Mage’s Guild was up and running after only four months.

_________________________

Yanzix coughed into her hand, cutting short the Skill.

“Better to talk to Herian if you’re actually interested in the history. He was one of the original ones that went, on Xeissa’s boat no less. He’s the owner of the vineyard, and of your new home, by the way. Lovely guy—half-Elf.”

“Cool.”

“I’m losing you. Honestly, I don’t blame you, but you’re the most clueless person ever to come to Levaintsil. No offence, obviously, but you’re from another world. Can’t really expect you to know the nuances of every continent. Tell me about the ghost—[Lesser Teleport].”

Ivory heard a pop, and felt a whumf go through his body as hers appeared next to him.

“Love that look. Remember, I’m a [Mage] first, and a damned good one if I do say so myself. I want to know about that ghostly fellow.”

“Uh, Jerom was a [Collector], probably really high level. 50 plus? 60? Hard to tell.”

“Mmm, mmm. Why’d he send you here, though?”

“He travelled the world as a ghost to see everything, so he must have come to Baleros in the last 200 years and met the ghosts of this place. Maybe even Xeissa? He didn’t say, but he was confident that here was the best place for me to, well, level.”

Yanzix’s mouth pursed into a smile; her lips quivered.

“Damn. Damn, damn. I think everyone will level after that. We’ve got our work cut out for us if we’re to hold up in the eyes of that ancient ghost. We’ve got another few minutes before we arrive, so I’ll prep you in the meantime. I told you before that everyone enrols here, but it’s more than just a ‘school’. People come to learn new professions, to share their life and work experiences, to learn to adventure, and yes, to learn magic. The difference is that everyone is taught a bit of magic to complement their skills. Whether it be for a [Smith] or [Woodworker] to see and manipulate mana to augment their creations, an adventurer to cast [Light] or lesser, emergency spells in a pinch, or [Builder] or [Labourer] to identify and improve their flow of mana to get stronger. Not everyone will receive a [Mage]-adjacent class, but some might, if they’ve the aptitude.”

“Miss Yanzix, pulling up now.”

The [Driver] or some such called out as his nedges made an ack ack sound.

“Oh! Give us a sec/ Students of the Polytechnic, young to old, are required to assist around Levaintsil, based on their interests. Taking classes from a [Chef]? Serve some tables at a cafe or restaurant, and fill for anyone’s absence. Practical [Builder] classes? Do some heavy lifting for the [Florist]. Et cetera, et cetera. The Polytechnic is the city, in a way. And you, Ivory, will enrol in just a moment.”

Ah, fuck. A part time job mightn’t be too bad, he thought, so long as he won the lottery.

“Love that look as well. Lizardfolk are much more expressive—you should hear them when they’re told they have to actually work.”

Yanzix opened the passenger door and slid down the assembled ramp. He waited a moment, saw that it wasn’t being removed, and slid down himself.

It took a measure of constraint not to shout ‘wheee!’ He did have to pick himself up off the ground, as it was functionally just a slide.

The noise struck him like a greathammer through an egg, and suddenly like the snap-back of a rubber band. It wasn’t any one sound; it was the cacophonous revelry of a town alive.

Vendors hawking their wares, laughter, bartering, clip-clopping, screaming—over the aforementioned—it was unlike anything Ivory had heard before.

And it wasn’t just the noise that had left him spellbound, it was the sights. It wasn’t that the centre of Levaintsil was some marvel of architectural engineering, it was her people: humongous Centaurs, frilled Lizardfolk of every imaginable colour, and some he didn’t even recognise.

Not a Human in sight.

“I’ve put my [Guildmistress] hat on,” Yanzix said, her voice raised. “Welcome to Levaintsil’s Polytechnic, Ivory Henderson. Join me in the Mage’s Guild.”

Ivory looked up at the huge structure, the Mage’s Guild, and decided not to voice his reaction, reductive as it was.

The building looked… well, Human, and not like a Lizardfolk’s—whatever that was meant to look like. He was expecting, well, something less-than. It was similar enough to the other Mage’s Guilds he’d seen (that is, the other two), except it was bone-white in colour and maybe half the size, which spoke to the grandeur, and necessity, of Mage’s Guilds.

There were multiple entrances to this Mage’s Guild; Ivory and Yanzix went through the left of the three doors. The rightmost looked similar, but it was the centre doors that set it apart from the other Mage’s Guilds and, indeed, most other buildings. It was twice the height of the one he’d walked through, which gave enough space for the tall Naga to enter, but it was wide enough for heavy traffic to comfortably walk through. It had what looked like great towering saloon doors.

Unhelpful musings on architecture aside, he followed Yanzix into the Mage’s Guild.

It was a true mixing pot—no one person looked even vaguely similar, even those of the same race. A Centaur at a tall standing table, adorned in shapely black leather, spoke with the head of a Dullahan with goggles on; a short, furry humanoid was doing a jig as its two Naga companions shook their heads, their hands on their brows.

Three bird-men, side by side, looked like a shifting sunset as they discussed their business. A gaggle of Lizardpeople crowded around one of their peers that was holding aloft a simple, wooden wand. Ordinary citizens lined up to send [Messages], buy a newspaper or sample some trinkets.

Ivory was veritably overstimulated, and was glad when they had made it across the floor into the staff-only area. The noise and smells vanished as the door shut.

Yanzix hummed to herself as she glid across the floor, past two other Naga coiled up huge cushions, snore-hissing. It was like the Ikea of madness—chairs, tables and other furniture of wildly different proportions, to fit the erratic proportions of the guild’s employees.

As if to contrast the chaos of the guild proper, the interior of the break room—and the office suites they passed—was simple. Boring, even; the only slice of life on the walls was a series of portraits, though he saw not what was pictured.

“Here’s my office and, I admit, part-time home. After you.”

At her touch, the ordinary looking door swung outwards, making a soft… pinging wshh sound as it settled against the wall.

Ivory inclined his head and walked in, wondering what the principal had to say.

_______________________________

“I don’t think I’ve done this for two decades, dead gods. The [Registrars] and [Instructors] would first generate a profile during the evaluation, but chances are I know enough. What did you do for work or study back on Earth?”

Ivory spluttered, turning into a fit of coughs. Yanzix suppressed a grin as he composed himself.

“You say it so—” he raised his elbow to his mouth, coughing into it— “casually. I, uhh, did a bit of a general degree, but dropped out after a semester. I had a part time job stacking shelves at a supermarket.”

The nuances of an Arts degree was difficult to explain, especially when caught by surprise.

“Sure, sure. Would you describe it as a [Labourer]? What would your class have been had you had one?”

“Probably nothing.”

The response pricked her interests.

“Oh? I know it might be difficult to imagine, but just have a go.”

“No, as in, I wouldn’t have wanted one.”

“Ah. Sure. Have any interest in magic, or animals? Perhaps you had a pet, or read stories?”

“No pets; never really read, other than when I had to.”

Yanzix huffed internally. Tough cookie!

“Hmm, [Recall Message]... yes. [Sorcerer] and [Beast Tamer] of a respectable level for such a brief time in our world, which is consistent with Wistram’s records. You have a third class, I believe?”

“[Spellbinder], level 4.”

“Now that is interesting. We have had children gifted with magic attain the class, to have it turn into [Enchanter] during their studies here. It fits for a [Sorcerer], I suppose. No offence, again!”

As far as Ivory was concerned, that meant he was at least somewhat talented; whatever slight it would have been was made up twofold by her expression.

“It’s fine. Who messaged you about me, though?”

“Oh, a lovely Human. Mannus Lan—”

Ivory beamed at the name of his original mentor that set him on this path. It hadn’t been that long since he’d messaged him when Phel’s Light went on curfew, but it felt like months.

“Some business about your house being vaporised? One [Scry] and a [Message] to check in, and here we are.”

“I’ll need to send him a [Message] then. He was beyond kind to me when I first came to this world. Looking back, I feel kind of bad that I didn’t tell him, but yeah.”

Her lips pursed for a moment.

“... Uh huh. Perhaps you could work towards learning [Message] for yourself? [Sorcerers] tend to excel like that. On that note, what is your level in [Sorcerer] and [Beast Tamer]?”

“So, I’m—oh shit, no I’m not.”

Yanzix knew that tone. She leaned in over her rune-covered, semicircular workstation.

“You levelled up! How exciting for you, well done.”

“Yeah!”

He laughed, a haha, but his stomach knotted a bit. Reminders of why, and how, he levelled.

“So, I think I’m using the right words here, but I reached my capstones for both. I’m now level 21 in [Sorcerer] and 11 in [Beast Tamer].”

“Dead gods... Twenty-one! Amazing, just amazing. Your new spells—let’s go over them. Consider this your first class. Here, hold your hand out. [Guildmistress' Analysis].”

A twinkle of magic pressed against his knuckle from Yanzix’s touch. It travelled up through his arm, and he was certain he was being asked something. ‘May I?’ Sure.

Like a system-update popup on your computer. You didn’t know what it would do, but you knew that it (usually) was okay to accept.

“Great. Okay. This is the wisdom of [Mage]-kind, and what we strive for here in Levaintsil. [Improved Levitation] for Misoe, your seal. I take it she levitates already?”

“Yeah, she does. She uses my mana from another Skill of mine to do it.”

“Nice of you. As a spell, [Improved Levitation] would cost less mana, improve its speed as well as your overall balance whilst mid-air. That magical-variant of seal would levitate naturally; she will be a far more confident flyer. [Wildlife: Respect by Deed]... no interest in animals, huh?”

He felt his face turn red, though he wasn’t embarrassed.

“Just did the right thing, is all.”

“For that, you earned you a Skill, and a good one. This’ll be your capstone. Animals are going to know that you’re either a good person, that you’re worth ignoring, and will be willing to forgive you for a slight. People’s pets will trust you, a jungle predator will ignore you if it’s not too hungry, and a nedge protecting her eggs won’t instinctively strike at you. As you level, the Skill will grow.”

Ivory nodded, thinking too to the Ger Chameleons in Drath, and those monkeys.

“Now the fun part. What in Rhir’s hells is a Zont?”

He shrugged.

“Beats me. Some kind of [Archmage] who took lots of students, I reckon. Here—have a look.”

Yanzix quickly activated her [Advanced Magicsight]. Ivory was not an inherently magical person; other than some minor dregs in his bag of holding, he had no discernible artefacts on. The acorn he produced was either a snack or a red herring—

Her eyes narrowed as it elongated into a wand. A plain wand that a beginner [Mage] would have passed by without a second thought.

It, though, was named. There was a simple magic about this wand, yes, but there was nothing she could see that made it noteworthy. The boy may be green, but few would proclaim that an [Archmage] was responsible for creating something. He believed it to be so.

Lesser [Mages] would discount it as just that: a simple magic wand, enchanted as a beginner’s spell focus, befitting the pedestrian magical current running through it. Fit for a Bronze-ranked adventurer or child [Mage].

She, though, was experienced. Magic does not simply come from nothing; even an [Enchanter] of some esteem would struggle to completely erase the presence of an enchantment. Let alone for an artefact that explicitly turned into a wand, which was inherently magical!

Her [Artefact Analysis] fizzled, as she knew it would. The Skill worked, yes, but the words that appeared in her mind confirmed what she already knew.

“What can this wand do? Forget the chime for the time being.”

“It can, uh, track the number of spells I’ve cast with it. I have a few spells created by Zont, as well: [Zont’s Fire Pufferfish], and it absorbed some Ger Chameleon venom and I got [Venom Spray]. Oh, and it collects, like, a tiny amount of mana over time, but I never notice it.”

“Fascinating. Can you cast spells without it? Generally speaking.”

“I can, but I prefer not to. It’s the fantasy of it all, I guess. By seeing a point where I should start focusing my spell, it helps.”

“Not a crutch, then. Good good good.”

With each ‘good’, she tapped her fingers on the workstation.

“Nothing I can do about the chime form, if the wand’s anything to go by. If there’s a [Necromancer] enslaving people, I’ll call upon you to ring-a-ding-ding. [Avert Magical Mishap], though, is self explanatory. You’ll need to figure out how often you can activate it. [Conceptualise Magic], according to my Skill, is one you had a lesser version of. Whatever you found that it allowed you to do, it now will do it with far greater detail and clarity. If you decide to work towards [Message], this Skill will light the way. [Forced Empathy] in the form of a blood hex is novel. Was this a level-up Skill?”

“Yeah it was, but I actually cast it on my own first.”

“[Sorcerers]. Blood magic is the forte of Maelstrom’s Howling’s resident Archmage; there are some [Blood Mages] a few towns up the channel. Anyway, you’re better off just hexing them or cursing their blood, but if you’re in a fight of passion, it’s something to consider.”

Yanzix was enjoying herself. She loved her role as [Guildmistress], but there really was something to face-to-face tutelage. She was rusty; speaking to a [Mage] less than half her level came with certain expectations.

Her audience was yet to truly open up, but that wasn’t her goal. She recalled what Nozumu had said to her:

“Just talk about magic.”

It coincided with her job, in any case. The boy looked slightly vacant, but not uninterested; even the most taciturn Dullahan opens up in a Lizardfolk city. He’d come around.

“I’ve saved the best ‘til last. [Learn Spell]... dead gods. I spoke of it before, but you are aware of how your spells and Skills will improve with your level, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me an example from your own experience.”

Ivory hmm’d, his lips pouting downwards as he thought.

“The first thing that comes to mind is my [Eerie Cinders] spell, which I have found lots of different uses for, and things it can do. I’ve gotten way better at casting [Gust], too. [Ominous Wind] was the result of mixing them.”

“Never heard of those two spells. Not [Gust], obviously. What uses did you find for [Eerie Cinders]? Is it a precursor spell to [Cursed Fireball]?”

“Maybe? I did make a Potion of Lesser Biosynthesis through a Skill, though.”

“You did what?”

Yanzix held her hands up; her mouth almost hit the floor. Ivory was about to speak, but she held up a finger.

Her irises flashed, delivering unto her the answer she wanted. Two deep breaths later, and she was ready.

“What am I procuring for you to show me?”

“I… don’t think I can? I used Ger Chameleon venom.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I mixed some of it in a mana potion, then poured that into a healing potion. It healed Misoe completely, and I got the Skill.”

Yanzix leant back, resting against something Ivory couldn’t see.

“I know what’s happened here. That’s a circumstantial Skill—[Witch] stuff, far as I know. You willed into existence a cure in the form of a Skill. I suspect you’ll not be able to make another one unless you’re in the same kind of desperate situation… if you can ever at all, if you never encounter the beasts again. Trust me—we’d know if a bit of venom, and two of the most used potions, could produce something so magnificent. Count yourself lucky if you manage to avoid another life-or-death situation.”

It didn’t come as much of a shock to Ivory. Seldom had he thought of this Skill, if at all, since he had used it to save Misoe’s life. It, logically, made no sense—like eye of newt and buttered toast in a cauldron of milk to make a Potion of Youth. He knew virtually nothing about alchemy, save for its relationship with Earth’s chemistry, but Yanzix’s words made him really question the system. His thoughts, summarised:

“It was good while it lasted, I guess.”

“Cup half full. I like it. Now, use your Skill to learn the following spell: [Restoration].”

Ivory ooh’d, now immune to the Naga’s masterful ability to move on.

“Ahem. [Learn Spell: Restoration]!”

His arms were up in the air, as if commanding a greater power. He felt a wiggle of mana throughout his body.

“Excellent. Now, cast the spell on my tail—see the little mark there? A scar from when I first became a Naga. Caught in a damn door. Heal it.”

Her tail fell onto the table with a fleshy splat. He saw the little white mark, barely a few centimetres long, and put his hand on it.

“[Restoration].”

Withdrawing his hand, he looked eagerly at her tail—

“Oh.”

“‘Oh’ indeed. [Restoration] is a Tier 6 spell; one of the few pieces of magic that explicitly heals. Not in the way a [Healer] might train their patients’ bodies to recover naturally—one [Restoration Mage] might kill an entire local industry if they felt like it.”

Goosebumps erupted all over his body—that sounded like a Miracle. He straightened his back, composing himself.

“So, I should do a Tier 1 spell, or something.”

Yanzix nodded, content.

“Correct—or even Tier 0. Your first bit of homework is going to be to learn a spell and discover its cooldown. You do not need to do it now, but have a think about it.”

“No, it’s fine, I can do one now. How about… [Learn Spell… Conjure Dirt]? [Conjure Dirt]. Nothing.”

Ivory hmm’d; Yanzix was silent.

“[Learn Spell: Mini Rain Cloud]... nope.”

The barrage of failed spellcasts didn’t deter him. He tried another dozen spells, each with vigour. Yanzix said nothing.

“Are any of these actual spells, do you know?”

“There’s… no reason they couldn’t be, save for maybe [Plant Tree], which sounds more like a [Gardener]’s Skill. Ivory, take your time. Be natural; don’t force it.”

He nodded, ignorant to the Skill embedded in her words.

“That is your homework. Now, it’s time for you to explore the city—Nozumu should be in the foyer soon; no doubt you two have much to talk about. Consider what we’ve talked about today, and how you might implement it into your career as a [Sorcerer]. Levaintsil has an incredible diversity of skillsets, Skillsets and classes; you’ll love it”

She ‘stood’ upright, towering over Ivory, who followed suit.

“I’ll send a [Runner] with your Polytechnic duties. Let us be off.”

————————————————————

The two great doors of the Mage’s Guild were open, and a sea of Centaurs were pouring through. Metal horse—Centaur?—shoes clanked rhythmically as they filed through the parted foyer.

The Centaur, a woman, locked eyes with Yanzix and bowed her Human-half. Ivory didn’t see Yanzix’s reply.

“My next appointment—you understand, yes? Should we cross paths as [Guildmistress] and student, we shall have an appropriately lengthed lesson. Now y—”

She cut herself off and took in a breath.

“OI! Stop staring!”

The gaggle of young Lizardfolk from before squeaked in unison, before scurrying after their wand-equipped leader out of the guild.

“Sorry. Humans are a rarity ‘round these parts, and Lizardfolk love to gawk. Enjoy the city! Ah, [Expedition Leader], come…”

Her voice trailed off. The dozen or so Centaurs followed Yanzix from where they had both come without any fanfare or inquisitive looks. People were, mostly, just minding their business.

The last thing Ivory wanted to do was get lost, so he took a seat by one of the consultation boothes and waited for something to happen.

People-watching was not something Ivory cared for. It was a hobby to some; to others, it was something you did to pass the time while you were waiting for something. Yes, there were fantastical people here wearing queer garments that caught the eye, but he just felt… bleh. Not quite tired or bored, just… a lack of motivation.

It wouldn’t be fair to say that the thought cheered him up, but there was some solace knowing that this abnormal state of mind was probably due to multiple days of sleep and waking up on another continent.

Hell, he had no reaction to her candid, intimate knowledge of him as an ‘Earther’. It was… autopilot, with the occasional hand on the wheel.

“Back to normal soon,” he said aloud, his voice drowned out by the myriad [Mages]’ conversations.

At least, he hoped so.