Tink

Tink

Tink

The rhythmic motion of the hammer in my hands was a comfort. Sweat rolled across my muscles, and I could literally feel the strength elixir I had just taken acting on my body. Elixirs don’t increase muscle mass, they actually invoke a magical change in the structure of muscle. There are many monsters which are far stronger than their size would suggest. By harnessing some of those attributes and precise formulae, an alchemist can literally change the composition of a person’s muscles.

In a way, an alchemist could turn people into monsters. I tried not to think about that too hard. After all, I personally knew many people who had completed several level four elixir regimens. Tylee was the most human person I knew, and she was probably at the fourth or fifth level of elixir. I carefully steered my thoughts away from the daughter-heir of the Arefina family.

While the various levels of elixirs do not have a set maximum by which they may increase a user’s strength, they are subject to the laws of diminishing returns. Further, the rate at which their effects depreciated was exponential, not linear in scale. To top that off, if you wanted to ‘skip’ a level of elixirs, say you wanted to start at level two rather than level one, there could be some serious consequences. Stepwise improvement was the way to go.

It seemed an interesting intersection, that on the first day of my last level two elixir, I would forge my first steel weapon. This was the third day that I had been back at Tanna’s place, and I had taken advantage of Derrick’s forge for most of that time. It was a little easier to ignore my craving for white magic and Solus’ constant whispers when I had a hammer in my hand and the ringing of metal in my ears.

As my body worked, my mind did too.

Solus had told me that the parasite inside of Megaine was a dead god. Well, it was a part of the body of a dead god. I was not entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, but it certainly left me with a lot of questions.

Who was this dead god?

I supposed I could go pray to Orianna. Of course, she might not answer me. I was still unclear on how I could open that specific line of communication. As far as I could tell, Orianna spoke to me at her leisure, not at mine.

Why was the dead body of this god killing mages?

Had mages insulted this god, or possibly even killed it?

How does one go about killing something that is already dead?

As I worked the forge, I could see the steel forming before my eyes. I had a specific design in mind. It would be a promise of sorts. I hoped that it would be complete and that I would have the opportunity to present it to its new owner soon. I also had one more trick up my sleeve.

While forging the blade, I focused my will upon it, pushing a pattern deep within its heart. I was not positive if an inscription could be placed inside of a blade, but I was going to do my best to do so. If I failed, I would still produce a superior blade. I would worry about enchanting it later if that came to pass.

As for the inscription itself, I had made a short pilgrimage to the Arefina manor, where Bertram had let me into the library for a couple hours to browse their books. Sure enough, they had a few that dealt specifically with enchanting. I had selected an inscription that I felt would be most appropriate for the user, and spent some time copying it down, then memorizing it. I had been careful not to run into Tylee while I was there. I was uncertain of how either of us would react at the sight of the other.

My long hours of practice with inscribing practice made the task of copying the design simple. Transferring it into a blade by holding the pattern in my mind and pushing it out with magic? Not so simple. I hoped that I was doing it right.

“Ethan!” Derrick called, “’Nother one of those white-haired girls is here to see you.”

‘Another?’ I thought.

Setting aside my tools, I set the blade back in the coals of the forge. I had been working on it for several hours, so it would withstand the heat for quite a while before any damage could occur. Sometimes it’s good to be gray.

I stepped out into the shop and saw Megaine. Her eyes froze me in my tracks, and I saw them move up and down my body several times before she gestured me to come closer. I complied.

“Wash up,” She said, “We need to go for a walk.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It has to do with my sister.” She said perfunctorily, then left before I could reply.

“You should really try to make less dangerous friends,” Derrick noted, “I’ll be a fool in the circus if that girl isn’t a tidemistress.”

“You do know that I have a great soul, right?” I asked him, watching Megaine as she took up position outside the shop, her gaze coolly painting frost across the traffic moving through the street.

“Sure,” He said, “But you don’t act like it. That girl, she probably has more enemies than friends, you can see it in the way she walks. I thought she was going to quench the forge when I told her you were busy. There are people with great souls, and people who show their great souls. It’s all about how you act.”

“I’m afraid that I won’t ever act like Megaine.” I noted.

He snorted, “I hope not. I would prefer to not have to try and find a way to tactfully eject you from my house.”

Chuckling, I carefully set the blade I was working on to cool in a bucket of sand, then went up to fulfill Megaine’s request. I was proud of the fact that I didn’t burn any white magic to relieve the soreness of my muscles. I made my way down to the street and stepped up beside Megaine. Without further comment, she began walking.

I followed.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“The tailor.” She said.

“You came here to take me to the tailor?” I asked.

“I came to speak with you,” She said, “I believe I already made that clear.”

“It’s just surprising,” I said, “I would have expected you to send for me.”

“Normally, I would have,” She said dryly, “But the manor has been a little on edge since the daughter-heir dropped her pet alchemist off. She spends every moment of her spare time on the practice field with that sword. She won’t let anyone near while she is working with it either.”

She glared at me, “I assume that you had an… interaction when she brought you here.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” I muttered.

“It is overwhelmingly apparent that it is my business,” She said tartly, “As a knight-sister, Tylee would have been perfectly fine, moping around like a lovesick puppy. In the circles she walks right now, such things can be deadly.”

I returned her glare, “Tylee doesn’t know that you are trying to make me an associate, does she?”

Megaine paused, taken aback, then chuckled, “Paperwork has never been Tylee’s strong suit. I wrote up the paper with enough legalese to give a black mage a headache.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because she would never agree to it.” Megaine said, “Tylee dislikes the fact that she was born to a position of hereditary power. She however, has few options but to face her duty. You on the other hand still have a chance to escape that web. She is living vicariously through you. I am simply helping both of you realize that you would be better trapped together than separate and alone.

“You’re manipulative.” I accused.

“And you and Tylee are innocent to the point of naivete,” Megaine retorted, “There is a reason why my sister chose the Sisterhood rather than take part in the competition for the seat of daughter-heir. She lacks the stomach to bend to political necessity when it is required.”

“I don’t consider that a weakness.” I said.

“And that is part of the reason why Tylee is infatuated with you, you feed her delusions.” Megaine said, “When I first awoke, I was severely tempted to have you sent away from the city with a large stack of gold for your service. I honestly didn’t expect Tylee to let herself get close to you, then push you away completely. Now the problem is just compounded.”

“Why don’t you have me sent away now then?” I challenged.

“Because father is lying to himself by thinking that we can retain our position, let alone survive, through a marriage alliance,” Megaine said simply, “We will need a new approach if we are to hold on to what we have. One of those approaches is bringing an outlander into our councils, someone like you.”

I froze.

“Ah, there’s the proof.” Megaine smiled smugly, “You really need to work on your conversational skills.”

“How did you guess?” I asked, dazed from her words.

“You know so little,” Megaine said, ticking off fingers as she spoke, “You have strange mannerisms and terms of speech. You think about things in ways that a mage never would. I have a weakness for stories of the great souls of Aramor. More than a few of them were outlanders. I honestly thought it was a stretch, but I figured that I would at least try. Being severely antisocial has probably helped you in terms of that secret not getting out.”

“I don’t know if that is a compliment or an insult.” I muttered.

“Both.” She said without rancor, “So, how do you like Esturia?”

I looked around, noting the people around us, “Should we really be talking about this here?”

Megaine raised an eyebrow, “You honestly don’t think I haven’t had a sound barrier up this whole time, do you?”

“A what?” I asked.

Megaine sighed, “You really have to stop doing that. There is a difference between being ignorant and wearing your ignorance on your sleeve.”

“I’m more comfortable with you than other people,” I pointed out, “Probably to my detriment.”

Megaine smiled, “Easy to confide in a dead woman?”

I grimaced, “I told you before, I’m not going to let that happen.”

“And where is your power to do that?” Before I could answer, she fluttered her hand at me, “Irrelevant for now.”

We arrived at the tailor shop in that moment, and Megaine gave the man instructions before leaving me in his care. The lanky man measured me quickly, then looked long and hard at my face and eyes.

“Not terribly exciting, but I can work with it,” He said, tilting my head a few different ways.

“I have a feeling that I am going to regret this.” I noted.

“Nobody regrets putting on a Vasille garment,” The man replied, “I can turn rank mediocrity into something stunning.”

I let him believe that. Who knows, maybe he would turn out to be right. I could hope if I wanted to.

I was shooed out to where Megaine was waiting. The woman was casually browsing through some clothing when I stepped up to her. She handled a silk dress for several more moments, a look of melancholy in her eyes, then she turned to me.

“Done?” She asked.

“If by done,” I grumped, “You mean I was measured and told to get out, then yes.”

“Vasille has a rather abrasive personality,” Megaine admitted, “It’s the one thing that keeps him from being truly popular. He claims that it is some kind of artistic requirement. I personally believe he enjoys biting his teeth at the rich who want his clothes. He does have a talent though, so I continue to use him.”

“Biting his teeth?” I asked.

“Showing contempt.” She explained.

“I can see why you would like him,” I said, “You share similar qualities.”

She grinned, “Master Dyre, I do believe you are wholly unqualified to determine whether or not I can be charming. Just wait until the ball before you make a judgement like that, you may see a transformation unlike any other.”

“A regular Cinderella?” I asked.

“Outlander jokes are wasted on me Ethan,” She said, “Do try to keep up.”

I hurried after her, “Where are we going?”

“To fulfill one of my promises to you.” She replied simply, “You will see when we get there.”

As we moved, I decided to ask her something that had been bothering me, “What exactly is an associate?”

“At its core, an association with a noble house is a promise of mutual support,” Megaine said, “You will swear to uphold and strengthen us, and we will swear to protect and support you. The church of Tyr witnesses all associations and can provide you with redress if you feel your patron is not fulfilling their part of the bargain. By the same token, an associate can be released by their house if they are found in violation of their oath.”

“That simple?” I asked.

“Yes,” Megaine said, then grimaced, “And no. As with all things, associations have grown more complex. The norm right now is for a specific time limit to be set on them, at which point the contract can be renegotiated. The lawmasters of the Seekers of Truth have also been steadily adding to the laws surrounding associations.”

“Sounds like bureaucracy.” I said.

She eyed me, “What is… bureaucracy?”

I tried, I really did, to explain to Megaine the slowly grinding, yet unstoppable beast which drove the policies of my world.

She nodded, “That is one of the functions of the Seekers. We ourselves employ a member of the Seekers to administer to our lands while we are gone. They are highly conversant with the laws and usually very good with mathematics.”

“Wouldn’t someone from the Collegio Academico work just as well?” I asked.

“The church of Tyr is the primary sponsor the Collegio,” Megaine pointed out, “You don’t think they hold classes in the temple, do you?”

“The Sisterhood of Light does.” I muttered.

Megaine shrugged, “The Sisterhood has a different role. They are warriors and healers. Come, it is growing late, we should hurry.”

Surprisingly enough, Megaine walked me down to the lower city. My fingers itched for my lost staff as I kept my head on a swivel, but Megaine moved like she owned the place. As far as I knew, she might.

We arrived at a small house. Though it resembled many of the other single-story dwellings around here, not many to be truthful, there was something about it that whispered of an order that was usually absent in this part of the city. It might have been the well-tended herb garden, with most of its produce already plucked from the ground, or the way which the shutters hung straight over the windows, rather than being slightly off-center.

Megaine knocked on the door. The woman who answered was probably in her late twenties or early thirties, judging be appearance alone. Long, black hair cascaded past her shoulders, and a mild, heart-shaped face was highlighted by crystal clear eyes of a light blue.

“Lady Megaine,” The woman said, her voice soft.

Megaine nodded, “This is the mage I was telling you about.”

The woman looked me up and down with a little trepidation, then gestured for us to come inside. I was thoroughly confused, and more than a little leery of entering into a building which I was unfamiliar with. Megaine must have noticed my hesitance, because she hesitated herself, then turned to face me.

“Ethan,” She said softly, “I am your patron, and owe you a personal debt. I would not bring you here if I thought that you would be in danger. If it must be, I will protect you to my own death. This woman can help you, but only if you let her.”

I looked into her eyes. They say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and you can tell what a person really means by looking into them. Megaine was an accomplished manipulator and could probably fake such sincerity. Megaine had also proven, despite her manipulations, that she was on my side. More importantly, if I couldn’t trust Megaine, I would be better off leaving the city and never coming back.

I pushed myself through the door.

Our hostess set us down on a pair of chairs and served us a sweet herbal tea. I detected hints of urivan, a mild relaxant that led me to believe she was an accomplished herbalist at the very least.

“Ethan Dyre?” The woman asked, her voice still mild.

I nodded, “That’s me.”

“My name is Diella, most of my friends just call me Ella.” She said.

“Are we friends?” I asked.

“Considering that I am going to teach you how to control your white magic,” She said without hesitation, “I would hope that we will become such.”

I blinked in shock, then looked at Megaine, who simply nodded in confirmation.

“How-“

Diella held up a hand, “Suffice to say that I am a white mage who is unaffiliated with the church. My mother was a white mage, and my father was a carpenter. He saw what using white magic did to mother, and my mother could not bear the thought of me dying as young as she was fated to. My mother lied to the priestesses about my magic, and I was spared that life.”

I looked at her more closely. I had pegged her age incorrectly. For a white mage, there are two reasons why it is hard to guess their exact age. First, because the power of white magic does wonders for the skin. Second, because white mages rarely live long enough to show the signs of advanced aging.

“How old are you exactly?” I blurted out.

She smiled behind her teacup, took a sip, then responded, “Fifty-six.”

I stared. As far as I knew, I was looking at the oldest white mage in existence.

“How?!” I asked, desperation tinging my voice, “You don’t even have a halo!”

“First of all,” She said, “My talent is lower middling. Second, I never have, or ever will, use external essence to support my spellcasting. Halos rarely develop in any but great souls without essence supplementation. I am an apothecary by profession, not a white mage. I can exercise my power with more subtlety than most white mages, and it allows me to help people without sacrificing my own life. The Sisterhood of Light does a great deal of good for many people. Unless you are a white mage. Then it consumes you.”

I detected a hint of bitterness in her voice. I couldn’t say that I blamed her.

“Are you addicted?” I asked.

She nodded, “Of course. It is impossible to use white magic without becoming dependent on it. But by never allowing myself to handle more than my soul was originally capable of, I am able to keep it in check. The primary reason why temple healers fail so quickly is because the demand for their talents has far outstripped their ability to handle it without essence supplementation.”

I glanced over at Megaine, who had supplied me with a phylactery earlier.

She shrugged, “I was not conversant with this particular detail. I also needed to know if you had become addicted.”

“Why does the church continue these practices if they are so destructive to white mages?” I asked incredulously.

“When a man lies before you with his intestines spilling onto the floor, do you withhold your magic because it might make you crave that power?” She asked me, her voice going from soft to harsh, “When a child is bucking in your arms because he is literally burning up from the inside, do you stay your hand because you would rather not become dependent?”

“I hate what the church does to white mages, but I genuinely believe that the white mages themselves would revolt if they were told to restrict their healing arts. Not just because of their addiction, but because of the absolutely catastrophic death toll that would arise within a few weeks.” She said, “The situation is out of control, and the only solution for now is to throw mages at it until they burn out.”

The problem opened out before me. Aramor was dependent on white magic for something that had been achieved in my world with medicine. Simple diseases had ravaged my world for millennia before we figured out that washing out hands would reduce the chances of death. Even then, there had been tremendous pushback from the medical community when the idea of surgical sterility had been introduced.

Aramor had been supported by the power of white magic, the death toll of such things as dysentery, simple fevers, and childbirth was low. The church charged very little for such emergency procedures, if there was a white mage on hand to do them. In places like Vern and other border cities, the realities of medieval life were more pronounced due to the scarcity of white mages there. Here in Aramor city, it would have been shocking if somebody died of something like pneumonia.

At some point, the balance of white mages and the population had shifted. The church had responded with essence supplementation. In turn, white mages started becoming addicted, so they were lost. Diella was right. What did you do? Let those people die?

No. You pushed your resources farther, depleting your supply, even as your demand grew.

“How… how long?” I asked.

Diella shrugged, “In the last century the church has been cracking down on extraneous use of white magic. Raising prices for non-emergency healing has helped, but they have not gotten to the point of outright forbidding it. There could be greed in play at that. There are plenty of non-white mages who hold positions of power in the church. Even if they see the problem, they may not fully comprehend it, or even care.”

“At the rate things are going,” She said, “We could see a failure of the system within a decade or two. It will start subtly, but once it picks up momentum, there will be no stopping it.”

The black death in my world had wiped out 30-50% of people in Europe when it struck. I had a feeling that this would be a disaster of similar, or even larger, proportions.

I turned to Megaine, “We need to do something, right now.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Planning on saving the world?”

“I can do something about this,” I said, “I know how to fix this!”

“And who will believe you?” Megaine asked, “How will you convince others to do as you say? How will you convince them to give up their magical cures for your remedies?”

“I don’t know!” I yelled, “But I have to do something!”

“One year.” Megaine said.

“What?” I asked.

“One year,” She repeated, “Give me everything you have for now. Help me save my house, and I swear upon my life and power that I will support you in this endeavor. It is too large to tackle by yourself, and house Arefina cannot do it right now. One year.”

I hesitated, then looked at Diella, who was looking at me curiously, “Ten years?”

She shrugged, “Or twenty, I am not conversant with all of the facts. In the end, it is just conjecture, I could be completely wrong.”

I turned back to Megaine, “I’m going to start now in any case, but I won’t neglect my duties to you.”

Megaine hesitated, then nodded, “I expect you to come when I have need of you.”

“How will you fulfill your oath if you die?” I asked.

Megaine smiled, “I guess that gives you another incentive to bring me a miracle.”

For someone who had given up on life, Megaine was certainly more than willing to leverage her survival against me.

I turned to Diella, “You say you are an apothecary, I have some recipes for you.”

Diella looked intrigued, “What is it going to cost me?”

“Nothing,” I replied, “In fact, I want you to disseminate what I give you, along with several other things that I am going to tell you, as far as you can. We can stop this, but it will take more than recipes, it will take a massive shift in how people think.”

“I dare not hope yet,” Diella said, “But I will test what you give me, and do as you ask.”

I nodded, “Thank you.”

She smiled, “No, I believe I should be thanking you. Perhaps I am not the only one who should be doing so either.”

I waved me hand at her, “No time. Paper, I need some.”

“Am I free to go?” Megaine asked, “It looks like you two will be busy.”

I pulled my grimoire from my bag, “Not likely my lady, I believe that a small down payment on your debt to me is in order.”

“Oh?” She asked.

“I’ll need you to distribute copies of this to everyone with whom you have influence.” I continued, ignoring the light note in her voice.

“I am not a distributor of pamphlets.” Megaine said.

“How about the woman who saved Aramor?” I asked, beginning to write.

“It has some merit,” Megaine said, “Although I cannot guarantee this will have power outside of the dutchy of Arefina.”

I shrugged, “In time, the results will speak for themselves. In a year, we’ll really start to push this. For now, just have your own people do these things.”

Megaine watched with interest as I began writing out the first sentences of the medical revolution which was about to overtake Aramor. Hopefully.

“Is this why you are obsessed with baths?” Megaine asked, looking over the short paper on hygiene I had produced.

I nodded, “It’s the most important thing that the average person can do to stay healthy.”

“It seems like a waste of time and money.” She noted.

“It’s not, I promise.” I said, “It will take some time, but if people adhere to those standards, you should see sickness as a whole drop significantly. Furthermore, it will reduce the load on the white mages in your dutchy.”

She picked my sheet on wound care, “Are you trying to inebriate people by pouring alcohol on wounds?”

“Distilled,” I pointed out, “I could wish for ethene so that I could mass produce the stuff, but then beggars would ride if wishes were horses. Infections are caused by tiny animals, too small for the eye to see. If you kill them, it should significantly lower the chances of infection.”

Megaine made further comments, and I supplied her with my reasoning.

“It seems the alchemists and apothecaries will be happy with you.” She murmured, looking through some of the treatments I had come up with, “They usually rely on adventurers as their primary source of income.”

“You have to keep costs down.” I said, “If it becomes just as expensive to take someone to a white mage, the whole point of this will be moot.”

Megaine shrugged, “That shouldn’t be a problem. Even with the essence cost of making some of these, it should still be cheaper overall.”

We finished as the sky turned to twilight. Megaine left, promising to have copies of the various documents made. What we had done today was just one step. I could provide a basic background for modern medicine, but the things I knew were nowhere near what would need to be done. I set the task on an increasingly larger pile of things that I planned to do in the future.

Diella made us a dinner out of cheese and bread, then settled down on the floor, bidding me to join her.

“I must admit, this is not what I expected when Megaine brought you to me.” She said quietly.

“I was not sure what to expect either,” I admitted, “But this was also not what I had planned for the day.”

“If I may,” She said, “You seem to have a great deal of medical knowledge. Why have you not undertaken this before?”

“I did, in a way.” I said, “There is a town down south by the name of Vern. The alchemist there produces several of the cures that I just gave to you, the midwives know some advanced techniques, and the physician practices sterile surgery. There is even a copy of my antibacterial ointment in the official grimoire of the Alchemists’ Guild. The problem is, I’m somewhat famous in Vern. It was easy to convince people to do what I asked. Here… I’m just another alchemist, and a young one at that. I was honestly hoping that those techniques and recipes would spread naturally. After what you told me though… I think it needs to happen faster.”

She nodded, “Very well, then let us begin. I will start by helping you refine your control over white magic. The less that you have to use when treating a person, the less that will touch you when you use it. Later, I will teach you how to feed your addiction with as little magic as possible.”

“Ignite a small amount of essence.” She instructed, then chanted the attunement spell.

I brought white magic to life inside of me. It was as little as I could manage, and it felt wonderful.

“Look into that light,” She instructed, “Feel it washing over you.”

I hesitated, “Won’t that… make it worse?”

“To control white magic, you must first understand it. Not on an intellectual level, but on an instinctive level. You must do more than revel in it, you must comprehend it. Now, look deeply.” She explained.

I turned my thoughts inwards and embraced that spark inside of me. The feeling of euphoria grew, then separated into layers. I could feel the warmth of the sun, the touch of a lover, and the thrill of life coursing through me. I reached for more.

“No!” Diella snapped, slapping me.

I fell back in surprise, my hold on the white magic stuttering, then fizzling out as the shock of that sudden attack from my little instructor threw me off balance.

“Sit up!” She commanded, “You are not to reach for more. Explore what you have ignited, no more.”

“How is this helping!” I growled.

“For someone who has just counselled patience in bringing about change, you are remarkably impatient yourself.” She noted, “Begin the exercise.”

Somewhat stung by that, I did as she said. For an hour, we sat there while I burned a trickle of white magic as I struggled to comprehend the depths of the power which lay within me. Diella had a needle that she would stab me with every time I started to reach for more. I would have complained about acute perforations, but it was a simple matter to heal the wounds that she caused. They still hurt though.

And thus, I began my not-so-legitimate training as a white mage.