He covered the workshop walls in attempts.

The walls reflected and glittered from the bone-white chalk. Loops, slants, and briefly a mad game of tic-tac-toe.

He wanted to capture something dead simple: Light.

Intention was clearly an important part of the process -- holding an image of what you wanted from the world. And knowledge of the background processes surely helped. Immensely. He had never been grateful for the biology course he’d taken until this exact moment.

Discovering new runes was harder without his chisel, he admitted. But he was averaging twenty times the number of attempts.

With his [Meditative Focus] on, it was so *easy.*

When he ran out of wall room he covered the shelves. He found himself drawing one on Maria, when she gently but firmly directed his instrument towards the table.

Okay apparently light wasn’t that simple. Which made sense.

Isaac Newton thought that light was originally tiny particles. A Dutch physicist thought it was a vibrating wave.

But Charley knew what light really was, because his teacher Dr. Straus drilled it into his head when he got it wrong on a test.

It was two waves.

An electric wave, bridged with a magnetic one. Bouncing off each other in a regenerative, recursive cycle the length of an E coli bacterium. The shorter the wave, the more damaging, like ultraviolet. Too long of a wave, and you get something like radio.

Charley licked his lips for a moment, judging how short he should make an example.

He eventually shrugged, and jumped into it. He made a longer, slopping series of waves crashing into each other, perfectly balanced in their clash apart, and falling back into one another again.

And that feeling kicked him in the happyplace.

Rune learned: Light!

The symbol of two perfect complimentary waves was burning a viridian green, throwing shadows crazily through the space. For a moment, it was like a searchlight, blinding him.

Gradually, because the rune hadn’t been connected to any powersource and just stood alone, its flare burned down to a lazy ember.

Then it faded entirely.

Interestingly, he didn’t gain a level in his [Corvus Enca], but that didn’t seem to matter. It still felt amazing to learn a new rune. What was interesting, was that there was no drop off to the sensation. He figured level one was a huge mind-gasim. But even when he learned runes it left him giddy.

Rehab clinics were in his future. Ah, well.

There was definitely a drop off in his skill gain, though. He couldn’t count on a level per rune anymore in all probability. That was fine.

Grinding with chalk was so much faster.

A youthful voice commented, “That was so beastly.” Maria stood over his shoulder.

Charley chuckled, and fell out of his meditative state. He twirled Cheshire on his fingers, and had a strong desire for sandwiches.

It really was.

--

He took a break and went down the stairs to check on Brand. He gave Maria a guilty look and asked her to clean up the walls.

She scowled at him but he beat an exit before she could argue.

Downstairs he saw Brand talking to someone familiar. Charley’s entire demeanor lit up, “Anders! When did you blow in?”

The [Merchant] smiled as he turned around, “Ho, what’s this? Can’t be anyone I know. He shaved, even.” He frowned for a moment. “What’s with the sunburn, lad?”

Charley gave himself a once over. It was true; with the new clothes and steady meals he looked nothing like how the [Merchant] had found him. “Just the same orphan you found in the woods, I’m afraid. My new ‘master’ keeps me on a short chain.” He ignored the sudden skin cancer part.

Brand rolled his eyes behind the counter, “quiet, slave, or I’ll have Maria beat you. Again.”

Ander’s chortled, and slapped both his hands down on Charley’s shoulders. Taking his measure, he asked, “What level are you now, boy?”

Charley’s grin was feral, “Five.”

Brand offered up, “tell him your crafting level, he means.”

Ander’s let out a half grin, “Both, really.”

“Four in my runic language.” The two merchantmen grimaced, and Charley felt the need to defend his progress, “and it’s going to get faster now that I have this.”

He held up his chalk.

[Cheshire. Runes: Origin, Flow, Growth. Can be used to chalk temporary runes. Chalk point is everflowing.]

They made appreciative sounds, fighting each other to try it out on the countertop. The most interesting effect was that the runes glowed with a soft blue light for a moment, like an after image, or phosphorescent algae.

Charley inquired, “what level are you two?”

“Twenty-six,” Anders stated directly. “And twenty in my [Bargain].”

“Seventeen,” Brand smirked. “Eighteen in my [Negotiation].”

Charley felt his heart drop a little. “And those are...average...for your ages?”

Anders said bluntly, “Yes. But this is our only class. I’m sure you have a secondary one.” Both of the craftsmen laughed between themselves for a moment.

Charley didn’t say anything.

“You..do have a second class, right?” Brand inquired.

“Ah. No.” Charley shrugged helplessly.

“But..” Brand asked perplexedly, “how did you *not* level something for so many years?”

Ander’s slapped his hand down on the counter lightly, “Magic isn’t a straight path, my crooked cousin. Who knows what kind of curve a class like that has. Plus, remember how long it took you to balance your ledger?” Brand blushed, then made a one fingered gesture, and Ander’s turned back to Charley while pretending not to see it. “Magical apprenticeships always last a while. How long was yours?” He asked seriously.

Charley counted in his head. Twelve years of primary school, two years of junior college. “Fourteen years.”

“Ew.” Brand’s eyes became huge at the thought.

Ander’s made a ‘there-you-go’ wave with his hands. Even Ander’s looked a little uncertain at the timeline, Charley could tell.

Hey, he’d been at it for maybe two weeks. He waved off their concerns. Actions spoke louder.

Charley frowned, “So what brings you back so soon? I thought you’d be way out on your circuit.”

Both the craftsmen frowned at each other. Finally Anders answered, “Elves.”

Brand looked grim. “Word around town is that the whole of the Maldives and the west are up in arms. That they had a meet gathered.”

Anders nodded, “Not just rumor. They were turning foreigners away at the border.” He paused.

Charley didn’t understand the subtext, but he got the general impression. A local tribal nation bordering his, calling a gathering could be a lot of things. It was super cool that they were elves, though. He made an inward fist bump in his heart. He’d always wanted to meet an elf.

Brand offered his tidbit, “A Chandler down the street said that he had seen a runner talk to an Eleven family in town. Next day, they were packing up shop.”

There all stood around grimly, sharing other things they knew. Charley felt helpless and mainly listened. “The King will negotiate. I bet he’s in the north -- probably Trist -- swearing at his advisors right now. He’s not stupid; he’ll go the Dryads and the World Tree. Soonish.” So many references were passing him by, but he didn’t want to interrupt, or worse. Potentially expose how little he knew.

Brand countered, “The Tree is neutral.” He sniffed, “they wouldn't care if we all burned.”

That seemed to be the last word.

Finally, Charley retreated back to his workshop.

He let Maria know who was downstairs, and she was out like shot.

Charley didn’t like the sound of any of what he had just heard. Because it sounded a lot like what Japan had done just prior to World War one.

He sighed. He was so not ready for a war.

He looked around his shop at the freshly washed walls.

It was time to get back to work. He turned his attention to darker paths.

He bit his lip. What was something that he could use, personally, that would make him dangerous?

He did an honest assessment of his skills.

Item: He had never swung a stick in anger in his life.

Item: No desire existed for him to be anywhere near close combat.

Item: He acknowledged to himself that he was pain avoidant.

He had shot his friends’ bow once at a bale of hay. He’d missed.

Even so, Charley figured he’d stick to range.

Charley pondered the problem for a moment. “Well, if I can’t hit anything..” He frowned. “Wait. Who says *I* have to hit anything!?”

He feverishly started drafting some notes with the chalk in his hands. This wouldn’t be a simple one rune project. He’d need two, at least. Something for auto-aiming. And something to direct the aim to a specific target.

He sincerely appreciated the chalk just for the ability to write stray notes. He was going to need to get some paper and ink. Soon.

So; If you can’t aim make the universe do it for you. Like an xbox controller or those pads they had at bowling alleys.

Charley made a list: find, search, delve, root, seek, follow, chase. He dropped root and follow, as they weren’t exactly what he wanted. Delve and chase were moved to maybes. He reflected.

It would be really good to do this backwards. To really hone in on what he wanted this rune to do, flip the problem. This was raw intention magic, so what was his intention?

He crossed out the offending objects on the list and updated it:: find, search, seek.

Tapping the end of the chalk against his chin, he considered. What was he making here? A weapon with auto aim. What could he aim it at? He sighed and realized the step he needed to take. It was going to be aimed at living people. Or monsters.

“Blood.” And once he had the target he knew what he needed for the first. “Seek Blood.”

He heard Maria sigh softly behind him, and then her sewing needles clicked together. He wasn’t sure if it was in approval or judgement. He wasn’t sure when she had come back up, or how long it had been. He was glad again to have the support so he could focus completely on the problems before him. His eyes glanced up at the window: evening and clear skies.

He let the world fade back away.

In the East, the chinese iconography for seeking was a man with a backpack, and sometimes three roads meeting.

He drew out a few different trials. There wasn’t any feeling of recognition or power flowing around them. He added and subtracted the roads, made them more like suggestions. Added multiple travelers. No reaction occurred.

Undaunted, Charley pulled on what he remembered from the west. Mercury, the messenger god. He drew him out, helmet and winged boots. Nope. He switched walls. He drew the symbol for the planet, three lines with sweeping wings framing them.

He frowned when he remembered Mercury’s staff, famous in his world as the symbol for healing. But it wasn’t. He’d been surprised in his history course, when he was told the *actual* symbol for healing for a single snake around a rod, Asclepius being the actual god of healing.

No, American hospitals had been using the symbol of Mercury; patron of thieves, commerce and womanizing mail service. Given the Health care system as he’d left, it figured. Leave it to a god of thieves to introduce Medicare.

Charley drew the caduceus, two serpents on a staff, wings flanking. He felt the image get traction on the strata of the universe and smiled sardonically.

Rune learned: Seek!

He took back every bad word he said about Junior College.

Dropping his meditative state, he found his room empty, but food and water waiting for him. He wiped the sweat off his brow, and topped up.

He wasn’t done. He was going to grind until he finished what he had started tonight. He felt the commitment deep in his bones, even past the tiredness and small tremors in his fingers. The conversation had scared him more than he’d like to admit earlier.

He kicked his [Meditative Focus] back on and rocked his shoulders in their sockets. “Let’s do this.”

He had most of a wall and a table left to write on.

Next target; blood. He just started doodling, letting his hands make shapes underneath his hand. He pushed most of the thoughts out of his head, and his hands slowed.

What did he know about blood? It carried nutrients through the body. It had iron, and white blood cells, and was mainly water. He spent maybe twenty minutes cycling the facts he knew.

It wasn’t enough. He scowled at his drawings, grabbing a rag and wiping that section of the wall clean.

No. He was doing this wrong, he could feel it. It wasn’t enough to just know *facts* for god’s sake. He wasn’t a [Factual Inscriptionist]. He was a [Natural] one. He wandered downstairs for a moment.

The store was cold and dark. Charley grins for a moment, and drew on the wall near the stairs.

Three strokes for Origin. Two waves repeating for Light. He felt a little bit of his energy unfurl from his core, and the store broke into a soft yellow glow.

Charley grinned madly, “Let there be light!” It was at this very exact moment that Charley realized he could do something amazing.

“I can make magic.” Holy shit. He could make magic! Not just objects. Ritual god damn magic. It was slow. Even a simple light inscription took him a few minutes.

He couldn’t throw fireballs or command ice into spears. But he could do it. Charley Peace, Magician. He wondered if he should add himself to the phonebook.

He shook his head at the joke, and got busy looking for sharp unsafe things. The shop was full of them. There were a few daggers, mainly utility. Charley finally grabbed a short throwing dagger, that resembled a kunai. A diamond shaped head with barely any handle at all, in one piece of metal. Zero fanciness.

Retreating back to the warmth of his workshop he felt a little squeamish at the next part. He took the blade and slid it along his upper arm. The blade cut and ochre red blood instantly flooded up the surface.

He waited until he had enough to fill a shallow palm, and then pressed a cloth against the cut, tying it around.

He tucked the kunai into his belt.

He took the blood and cast it in a splatter on the table. Then he dropped back into his [Meditative Focus]. The sting from his arm faded to the background.

And he started drawing. With the blood in front of him, it was so much easier. He made a note to himself; stop trying to reason your way into truth and just get out of its way.

He felt the traction immediately, as he drew around a droplet that had landed by itself. He made a simple goblet, holding the drop. Interesting, but not quite. He drew a circle around another drop, and that felt full of potential as well.

He wiped the droplet out of the circle, and drew in another circle inside that one. He was reminded of what a red blood cell looked like underneath a microscope. Except, in that, the nucleus was filled it. He grinned, and shaded the circle at the center.

Rune learned: Blood! [Corvus Enca] reached level 5!

He dropped out of his trance. He had done it--grinded out two runes in what felt like a single evening. He was tired but damn.

It was time to celebrate. He went off in search of beer.

--

He found the closest inn to where the shop was, just three blocks south and catering mainly to the trade district. The light was rosey and warm, and a huge fire burned in the hearth at the end of the one story structure. The inn was a huge A Frame, the tall ceiling and exposed lumber making a lively common area which was filled with craftspeople. Charley immediately felt a home.

A monstrosity of a flagon sat in front of him, the head creamy and thick and the beer underneath it smiled like nirvana. Charley lifted the glass, “To barley, wheat, and hops!” A few people nearby cheered with him.

For a while, he just basked in the warmth and let the conversations flow around him. His presence wasn’t unwelcome, but people didn’t know him yet here. He didn’t feel any special need to connect immediately, taking in the stories people told each other.

He ordered a plate of food from a passing waitress. It was literally a plate, he had no idea what they’d bring him. Didn’t matter.

A few different words were spreading through the city.

The King was sending a royal Emissary to the West, past the city of Kerry and to the Maldives.

Wherever those were. Charley made a note to himself to ask Brand later. Was that miles or days away? ‘West’ was pretty damn vague.

And a bounty board had gone up, a local noble had been outed as a rapist and abuser. The guard had investigated but the board disappeared. And so had the noble. No one was very happy about it, supposedly, in either the guard or administration. But everyone who talked about it was thrilled for a little justice.

Charley gulped and choked a little on his beer. He decided it was time to leave.

He quietly got up and settled his tab with the innkeeper, who gave him a friendly nod.

Stepping out into the night, he left the warmth and company behind him. He felt a little cold knott in his stomach, despite the amazing chicken he had filled himself up with. Who knew how long ago that board had been setup. He had to admit that he’d completely lost track of time without a watch or a calendar. Events were moving a little bit to fast for his liking, and he didn’t have a good backup plan or exit lined up.

Not very professional of him.

He slapped at the back of his neck, feeling a sudden sharp pain there.

His hand felt something attached. He pulled out the offending object. It was a strange wooden dart.

He felt a wave of woozy tiredness wash over him.

“You’re not supposed to be in my neck, little guy.” He felt the world sway around him, and Lurched against a wooden building. One hand supported him briefly.

Charley decided it was a good time for a nap. On the cobblestones.

--

He woke up one eye at a time. It was dark. There was a circular hole above him, with stars winking *very* far away. It looked like the opening was at least two hundred feet up. Some kind of sinkhole, with smooth stone walls. Droplets of water struck him on the face, and he blinked them away.

He was lying on his back. In front of him, a man in dark clothes was attached to a rope line.

The man noticed he was coming round, and tossed something underneath him, pulling sharply twice on the rope. He slowly started to ascend upwards and away. “The Guild sends its regards.” His call echoed softly with an air of finality.

Charley watched in dismay as the man ascended and then disappeared over the lip of the sinkhole.

He gave himself a beat to process everything that was happening. Yeap.

“I am so fucked.”

--

Name: Charley Peace

Class: [Natural inscriptionist].

level: 5

Skillset:

[Runic Enchantment]

Able to inscribe runes onto objects. Permanent.

[Corvus Enca] Level: 5. Limited to lesser effects.

[Passive: Nimble hands]

[Meditative Focus]

[Passive: Deep Intuition]

Runes known:

Spoiler: Spoiler

Origin.

Flow.

Sundering.

Growth.

Light.

Seek.

Blood.

Objects in toolbelt:

Spoiler: Spoiler

Chisel [Fiona. Runes: Origin, Flow. Increases the likelihood of discovering new runes].

Glows violet.

Chalk [Cheshire. Runes: Origin, Flow, Growth. Can be used to chalk temporary runes. Chalk point is everflowing.] glows blue.

Seven nails.

Iron kunai.

--