“It is not an unfair deal.”
Despite my attempt to quicken the pace of dictation, ultimately the argument in front of Petal Floor reached an interjection point faster than we could finish up.
“This story should have been followed by Gettier and A Day of Eternity, but that can be revisited. Learning should be done in a place free of distraction. You did well for now.” I looked over at the ‘crowd’ of nine, split into four, two, and those two peddlers standing with a customer, looking in on the drama.
Patting Tagalong Girl on the head, I worked on one of my tricks. A pared down combination of
The words were muffled, but learning to make sounds through experimentation was more versatile than letting the spell handle things like a filthy sorcerer. It also wasn’t so uselessly cobbled together that I needed a hand on her head, I was just getting a feel for how clearly it vibrated the inner ear, and the possibility of noise cancellation.
It was a simple message for her to take the lead out of ‘curiosity’. After all, I was too aloof to be interested in the problems of strangers.
Her acting skill could be improved, we moved across the small plaza at a steady pace, with no sign of excitement or trepidation about the possible conflict. Only that flighty weaver’s apprentice noticed us, watching things play out from the second level of Petal Floor.
That did explain how a shop of religious paraphernalia kept open at such a size. It hosted artisans who probably provided goods at a discount, and likely worked part time as well.
“So you’re selling them for the same price already, so there’s no difference to you to directly trade them.” Among the larger group, a leaner woman with chlorophyll(or its undetermined equivalent) stained fingers spoke loudly to another. “He’s not letting you see an extra cupra if he can help it. So why keep dealing with him?”
“Then there’s no need for me to deal with Geralt, now is there?”
“Indra, you yell pretty loudly for your boss.” The man of the pair followed up in an unserious manner, holding his ear in some indecipherable pantomime that one could only surmise was insulting. Given the raised eyebrows abound, it was not a cultural expression.
“Huh? So what?” Stomping a foot forward, an herbalist with such aggression probably ripped plants out of the ground in one fell swoop. Only the weaver from Indra’s own group seemed to think she was taking it too far, raising her hands partway as if to calm Indra(had she been facing that way).
“Hear, yah? The store can go a little higher. We order every month, you come by frequently as well. We’re not a town, Gustave isn’t going to pull some premium buyer out of a stone. It’s better to have some teamwork and work together.” Geralt spoke now, his voice still at a level we would not have heard without getting closer.
“Talking big about being a community when you work with mages and elves. It’s surprising no Disciples have closed down that shop for being heretical mockery.” After the chandler’s words, Tagalong Girl thought for a second before poking me in the toe with her spear.
It would have been nicer had you pulled the hem of my shirt, but that wouldn’t be very you, would it?
Interject next instance, should you please.
“The Church permits them to walk among us. Disagreeing with that judgement sounds more heretical to me.” The fourth of the group on the side of Petal Floor spoke. A broad man with calluses and dirt deeply ingrained, a full-time farmer through and through. Several scars on his upper arm were out on display.
“I wonder whose sermons you’ve been listening to? If you know how, start counting just how many elves are in there next time you head to the city. Even they can tell their inferior spirits don’t belong. Integrating won’t happen.”
“By the Patriarch, I’ve heard this from you and the rest of you plenty of times already.” Geralt put a hand over his face, trying to block out an incoming migraine “You’d think Gustave’s group would be more business minded.I’m just trying to make a pragmatic deal.”
“...Marlowe has been integrating pretty well.”
“Hear Leigh, he’s like that because he knows he can’t fit in. Mages know they have to be on their best behavior, even if we only have Vara Kayline.” Seeing as the argument dulled into a sort of bickering, Lucy decided to debut.
“You have a mage in this village? Where does he live, what is he like?” That upward tilt in tone as she breached the social circle, she was showing some genuine interest now that she was meant to be playing a part.
Is this part of her fundamental origin? She did take initiative to join me, and I knew being a mage played a part in that— although I had thought that characteristic incidental and being a hyper-competent weirdo took precedence. Maybe the hands-on, tangible nature of the learning methods that best suited her were why abstract things like theory didn’t spark this reaction. Despite still being painful(and trying to play it cool), she used her Evil Eye whenever she could find justification.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
‘Where’ is the mage is far more important than ‘what’ that mage is.
Unfortunately she was coming on a little strong for most of our neighbors-to-be. Other than Leigh, who had an attachment that evoked pity even from the more ‘accepting’ Balduin’s camp.
“What’s it matter to you? Someone hasn’t been attending their sermons; mages aren’t spectacles. They’re dangerous, and aberrations. She’s with you traveler? You should be stopping by churches more frequently.” The chandler made some incidentally accurate accusations— though I wasn’t wearing my haramaki, so she didn’t know the sort of dangerous aberrant she currently chastised.
“My first work for you will cost double. Evaluate before speaking.” As I spoke down to her, the two groups rotated back from us(me), lumping themselves closer together. Geralt and the unserious man stood where the two merged, forming what might have been a perfect bogosort of Gustave’s approval.
“We’re going to be the new potters here. I just want to know.”
“New potters? After Fredrick’s place then?” Geralt sounded almost confused, nevertheless jumping back into conversation before anyone else. “Then you’ll be visiting our store often. The Petal Floor sells talismans, wards, excerpts from the scripture doctrines, and we read aloud every other day. If you’re moving here, it’s with Fredrick’s place in mind, but we also rent out space for those who can’t afford to maintain a proper building.
“There’s only one Vara here to answer our questions, so our interpretations may not be what you’re used to. Don’t mistake that for thinking we don’t care what happens; without guidance, seeking understanding.”
“A unique interpretation of a verse itself meant to guide.” The Scriptured Doctrines weren’t explicitly labeled as such, but had both sections related to social order, and being a cultivation manual. I couldn’t make out his degree of apathy, if this was intentional misinterpretation or a genuine fault of the teacher.
While I’d known religions founded by aspirational figures that weren’t inherently divine, Derrish faith was uniquely cynical. After all, its practitioners genuinely lived in the same world as its founder. Every step up the ranks literally made them more ‘god-like’ with respect to their idol. And he’d been so generous to leave them a path upwards.
So not only was reverence diminished the further you climbed, but there was actually a perverse incentive to not teach properly, lest you build up your own competition.
Not that I would actually make such speculation, just another observation of possibilities.
“Alright wise guy. You’re not going to make many friends sassing people as soon as you walk in here, although it is pretty funny who makes talismans all day doesn’t know scripture.”
“Shut it Jarrod.”
“Who will make me? You?”
Surprisingly, it was the more religious farmer who threw the first punch at the smart-mouthed Jarrod. None had so much as glanced at their daggers or clubs, so I didn’t find much point escalating the situation myself. In fact I reached a hand over, locking Tagalong Girl’s spear in place in a fist. With her tight grip, she almost fell off balance when readjusting her stance for a fight.
“So feisty. I can introduce us first, since you’re not going to. That’s Geralt, scribe of Petal Floor, and I am Indra, the herbalist who provides the materials for the incenses.” She tried tossing her long hair back over her shoulder to posture, but it just returned to where it had been before jerking her head around.
Talismans and incense, the two primary consumables in religious rituals. They weren’t owners, but those weren’t lowly positions.
“I am Aldrich, this is my apprentice Lucy. My specialty is glazes, if you have shade beans in supply, I’ll purchase them at a fair price.” I lightly nudged Lucy forward.
“No one answered my question.”
“At the very end of south road. In the old mill.” A soft voice murmured. I don’t think anyone other than myself or Indra heard.
“Oh, that windmill?” A veritable wizard tower! Wasted on what was no doubt a hedge mage.
“Well, we don’t mind them here, but they can still be trouble, so don’t wind Marlowe up. Best to rely on yourself and avoid getting involved in magic where you can. Keep your business with him short.”
“If he can pay, he’s a customer, that’s all.”
Tagalong Girl gave a look that said ‘really’.
It’s not my fault things constantly happen around me, I’m just constantly engineering the situation so it’s probable!
Tagalong Girl leapt back and I sidestepped as a meaty body fell forward between us, quickly getting back up. Water sloshed out of a bucket onto his head and he cursed as the light footed and light hearted one dashed away with a blackened eye.
“Agh… he’s getting faster. You two, greetings from the Patriarch, my name is Deshro, humble follower of Tian Meng. I also say not to get too involved with Marlowe. Just cause he’s a part of Ullool doesn’t mean he’s gonna be helpful or fair. If you’re new here he’ll pick on ya more. But if you’re strong it doesn’t matter what he thinks.”
“He’s not bad.”
“Because Leigh, if he does something to you, he’s giving up on living peacefully. And breathing wrong might cause you to spiral, such an invalid.”
Meekly, the weaver stepped out of the circle everyone naturally formed to discussed to begin drawing her bucket of water before skedaddling.
“Don’t be thinking this place is as interesting as they behave. If I could pick up my fields and leave, I would. When you’re set up, look for Turner to the eastern farms. I pickle plenty, I could use some pottery.” Turner immediately picked up two buckets of pitch on his yoke and left.
Somehow, I got a business contact with no effort.
“Fiona.” The chandler introduced herself, “Turnip has the right idea, a productive day is a good day. Everyone makes their way to Petal Floor, the old well up north, or Daron’s tavern over there in the evening. Since this ‘business’ with Geralt is settled, I should be on my way.”
Fiona, as well as Geralt and Indra all pulled back on their chattering to collect their water and return to their work. Only Deshro kept standing around, looking up at me.
“You really know the Scripture well?”
“Better than many.”
“Let me know when you’re going to haul in clay. I’ll help. Sometimes I wonder if the Vara’s teachings have been influenced by Balduin.”
“That’s what he should be doing. He’s a leader.” Tagalong Girl interrupted, breaking the already weak flow of conversation. I could sort of see her angle, Balduin was a leader that Deshro supported, these were words that praised loyalty. Her question unfortunately presupposed he had no doubts.
“Girl, the leaders must still emulate the patriarch. Those that stray from the basic truths will not find success if they do not pay attention to those with inferior spirits, and put in work to beat them.”
Tagalong Girl looked at him, then back to me, thinking deeply. I resisted the urge to rub the bridge of my nose. I should have given Aldrich a personality that let him express his exasperation more openly.
Bidding each other farewell, I gave a cursory introduction to the two pitch merchants while Lucy considered what ‘inferior spirits’ truly meant in the context of the wider world. After all, this was a phrase derived from ‘spiritual roots’, a term even Lyssa had not seemed to grasp.
Luckily, it didn’t look like I would need to deal with anything more than garden variety prejudice. Only six non-human souls registered(mages don’t count as human), and none looked to be in dire circumstance. Dealing with the thought of revolution could be kicked down the road a tad longer.
What wouldn’t be delayed was the construction of a lab. Several kilometers away, my minnies disturbed the sediment of a small stream. White bone stained with clay began sneakily reaching out of the water’s surface, depositing large quantities to hasten preparations if even by a day.
Just because I was a reformed necromancer, doesn’t mean I need to be a former wizard, I can still do experiments. Also, preexisting undead don’t count against the ‘ex-necromancer’ clause either. Nor does raising replacements, or spells that aren’t actually necromancy.
Okay, as long as Tagalong Girl didn’t see anything, the Hero Training Course could continue without flaws. If she doesn’t call me a necromancer, it doesn’t count!