《Millennial Mage (A Slice of Life, Progression Fantasy)》Chapter: 146 - Drop the Mistress
Advertisement
Tala looked around the inside of the chuckwagon, taking in the disks of wood, subtly affixed at regular intervals around the part of the chuckwagon’s interior that she could see. Each radiated power that just barely registered to her incredibly sensitive mage-sight. I suppose that magics meant to help in evading detection would have to be harder to detect, by its very nature.
She shook her head. I’m getting lost in the weeds.
What was the core issue, here? She nodded. “How do you even know Conceptual inscriptions? You aren’t a Mage you’re not even-” She’d been about to say that Amnin wasn’t inscribed, but as Tala focused on the woman, she noticed a double ring of inscriptions in each of the cook’s armpits. That would be painful to receive. “You are inscribed.”
The cook shrugged. “Just two simple scripts. One to protect me from the inscriptions I work around, and another to make us magically uninteresting.”
Tala glared. “Do you have any idea how valuable that second spell-form would be to humanity?”
“It only affects things it entirely contains.”
“So, couldn’t we use it around every city?”
“It is, already. Where do you think we got it?”
Tala blinked at that. “What?”
“Have you ever investigated how the cities magical systems function?”
“Of course not, I’m not a Builder.”
“But isn’t it interesting, how they’ve created such extensive, interlinked networks?”
“Of course, but I can only look into so many things.”
Amnin shrugged again. “As you know, I’m not a Mage. I can only tell you what I was taught, which wasn’t much. The scripts we use are used in almost every Guild, in their most secretive facilities.” She chuckled. “By what I was taught, the Mages gave us these scripts when we were recognized as an official human guild.”
“Then, wouldn’t they be on the lookout for them?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve not interacted with any Mage besides you, discounting a few exchanged words as required for anyone in my position, that is.”
“So, where does your education on magic come from?”
“The Culinary Guild, of course.”
Tala groaned. “So, we’re training Conceptual Mages, but not actually making them Mages, and keeping them segregated and not taking advantage of them.”
Aminin scoffed. “Hardly. I don’t want to be a Mage, Mistress. I’m a cook. Just because I know what these specific inscriptions do, and can switch out pre-inscribed disks if they wear out, does not mean I’m qualified to be a Mage.”
Tala sat down beside the entrance, placing her head in her hands, the wooden token pressing against her forehead. “I’m going to need a bit to process this.”
“Take all the time you need. That coin’s for you, after all.” She chuckled again. “It’s not like we have a lot of those laying around. Keep it powered, and you’ll be welcome in here whenever you wish. If you lose it, or it runs out, I can’t replace it. Maybe the Guildhall in Bandfast can.”
Tala groaned again. “Thank you. I just need a minute.” She hesitated, a few scents standing out to her as she drew in a deep breath. “And bacon, and coffee.”
Amnin patted her shoulder. “Bacon, coffee, and a little space, coming right up.”
* * *
Tala sat on the cargo wagon roof facing Mistress Odera.
The older Mage had her eyes closed, seemingly ignoring Tala as she ate.
Conceptual magic. She shuddered again. There are conceptual Mages, scattered through humanity. No, that wasn’t right. Just because they could activate conceptual inscriptions didn’t make them conceptual mages.
Advertisement
After all, I could get that time inscription, which would let me always know exactly what time it was, but that wouldn’t make me a Time Mage. That actually made Tala feel a lot better.
So, just some basic conceptual inscriptions. That’s not really news. I knew that there are some human Conceptual Mages out there, somewhere, just not very many. It makes sense that items wouldn’t be unheard of.
And that didn’t take into account artifacts. Would we even recognize a conceptual artifact?
The average person probably wouldn’t, but Archons surely would…right?
She thought back to the inside of the chuckwagon. She’d known there was magic involved, and known exactly where to look, and it had been hard for her to see.
Nope, it’s very possible that conceptual artifacts are just being missed. Blessedly, artifacts didn’t really survive outside of waning cities, unless a Mage was sustaining them, so there shouldn’t be unknown conceptual artifacts in any city but Alefast.
Probably worth looking into.
“Well, it’s good to see that you’ve stopped writing out your thoughts, but even so, you are clearly in turmoil.”
Tala’s gaze snapped back to Mistress Odera, whose eyes were still closed.
“You’re shifting, scratching, sighing, and grunting. Unless you picked up another new project, something is bothering you.”
Tala sighed, then noticed she’d sighed and grunted in irritation. Then, of course, she noticed that and scratched her cheek in frustration.
Mistress Odera grinned broadly. “Proving my point, dear.”
Tala shook her head. “Fine. What do you know of Conceptual inscriptions?”
“Abstract or Concrete?”
She thought back to her conversation with Amnin. “Abstract.”
“Very little.”
Tala glared. “Concrete?”
“The same.”
“Why did you ask me to specify?”
“Because I was curious.”
Tala scoffed but decided not to quibble. “So?”
“So, there are a handful of items that can be made with Conceptual inscriptions. Some Abstract, some Concrete, and they are a mix of Guide and Creator.”
Tala nodded, leaning a bit forward, even as she ate more of Amnin’s offering of placation.
“Some are banned, and actively watched for. The Constructionists can make an item that draws consumer attention, giving merchants or shop owners an advantage, but that is…frowned upon. Another that is banned is one that makes the veracity of your words seem greater, regardless of the evidence.” She shook her head. “Not a great thing for anyone to have.”
“Are any legal?”
“Oh, of course! Some are positively silly, reducing how awkward someone appears, or making someone or something seem less interesting.”
“Couldn’t the second one allow you to get in places you shouldn’t, or do things that you shouldn’t?”
“The ones I know of can’t force away genuine interest. They just tip the scales. They can’t make someone ignore a thief they are looking right at, for example. That said, of course it can be abused. So could items of invisibility or capture. In the end, they are tools, and we try to be in the ‘trust but verify’ vein for things.”
Tala grunted. That all lines up with what little Amnin could explain.
“Why this interest?” Then, Mistress Odera started nodding. “Our mysterious arcane visitor.”
Tala opened her mouth to say ‘No’ but in truth? That was one reason the chuckwagon’s inscriptions had been so shocking to her. “That’s a part of it, yeah.”
Mistress Odera nodded. “I received a message that we have a Paragon monitoring the region closely as we head back for Bandfast. Additionally, the Archon we’ll meet up with, later today, is a powerhouse in her own right, though she’s a bit eccentric.” She grinned. “Some think that she loves fungus more than people, or some such nonsense, but the truth is more nuanced. She likes her research and doesn’t really care for formality.” The older woman shrugged.
Advertisement
“What else can you tell me about her?”
“Well, from what I know she followed an older school of thought and made her Archon star in a sphere formed from a giant mushroom stalk.”
“A mushroom Archon?”
“There have been stranger mediums, Blood Archon.”
Tala snorted a laugh. “That’s fair, I suppose.” She hesitated. “Why did you bring her up?”
“Well, her section of this forest is much more… set, at least for now. We’ll have almost a straight shot out of the forest once we get to her. That doesn’t mean we’ll be out of harm’s way, but it should be a predictable route, as far as days of travel required.”
Tala nodded. “That will be a welcome thing to get back to.”
“Regular schedules are a blessing, indeed. There is also the fact that she hasn’t abandoned her research in the last thousand years.”
She hesitated. “Wait. So, when the forest cities wane…?”
“She and her assistants stay.”
“How does she survive the Leshkin?”
Mistress Odera shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her yourself, but from what I know, she’s one of only about a half-dozen Archons who ignore the migration of humanity.”
“Thus, we should be safe near her.”
“Well, I doubt she’d intervene if an ox steps on you, but we should be relatively protected from arcanes, powerful Magical creatures, and the like.”
Tala nodded. “Thank you.”
“I am happy to be of assistance.”
Tala examined the woman for a long time then, as morning continued on, passengers getting their breakfast and the caravan preparing to depart. There is a lot to her, that I don’t understand at all.
Finally, Tala began charging the cargo-slots, but addressed the older Mage as she worked. “You are quite familiar with Archon stars.”
Mistress Odera stiffened, but otherwise didn’t react.
Tala let the silence stretch on as she completed her work. Charging each slot with ease.
Finally, the Mage opened her eyes and regarded Tala. “That wasn’t a question.”
“But you still understood what I was asking.” Tala brushed off her hands. “I’m done with my Dimensional Mage duties.”
Mistress Odera nodded in acknowledgement. “I have not attempted to bond a star.”
“That much is obvious. You’d be a fount or an Archon.” Tala sighed. “But that answers my question. You’ve made one.”
The woman scoffed. “One? No.”
Tala raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Mistress Tala, I’ve made hundreds. Among living Mages, Archon or otherwise, I am likely the one with the greatest understanding of that particular spell-form, regardless of medium.”
“Is that why you had so many tests, ready to hand, to examine my inverted star?”
“Yes.” The Mage frowned. “I will admit that that did vex me. I’d never considered inverting the spell-form.”
“So, how do you have hundreds? How have you not swallowed one?”
Mistress Odera pulled out a viciously sharp snarl of glass, holding it out towards Tala. Even holding it caused a few small lacerations and punctures on her fingers and palm, spots of blood beginning to form almost immediately. “I’m vicious.”
Tala’s eyes went wide. That burr of glass contained an Archon star.
“Nothing requires the medium to be a sphere, and the compulsion is never strong enough to convince me to pop something like this between my lips. I have these little devils made of various materials so I can satisfy the itch to make the star, then I wait for an Archon to notice, ask for it, and I let them destroy the thing.”
Tala found herself nodding. “Master Jevin.”
“He was very kind.”
“So, that works? Why wouldn’t every Mage do that, when they reached this point?”
“Other Mages prefer death to bleeding all over the place. Or they hold out hope that they just might be able to become Bound, so they work their hardest towards making the attempt. I hold no such delusions.”
Tala sat back. That makes sense. “So, how long will this solution last?”
“At least for today.”
With that solemn answer, the two fell back into contemplative silence.
* * *
It was just after noon when the forest began to darken.
While there were clouds in the sky, barely visible through the canopy high above, it wasn’t the simple darkness of a cloud stealing across the sun, and it was very much tied to this portion of the forest, itself.
Where most of the trees that Tala had seen in this place grew only a single, high-level canopy, this section seemed to have sprouted many, overlapping layers, giving the forest floor, below, the feel of twilight, even around high noon.
Everyone was on edge as they moved into the darker section of woods, even though they’d been expecting it. After all, mushrooms prefer dim light.
As they progressed deeper in, the air became heavy with moisture, small ponds, streams, and creeks crisscrossing the space in what was obviously a meticulously designed water system.
After an hour of travel, they found the first mushroom.
Standing about half the height of a man, the mushroom was short and squat, with a top that spread wide and sickly yellow striations throughout.
They all knew better than to get close. They’d been briefed on the types to expect, and how to avoid the dangers.
That one releases spores that dissolve anything they touch. The only saving grace is that they are heavy enough that they fall almost straight down, and only do so if the fungus is disturbed.
It actually reminded Tala of ending trees, except that the fungi’s dissolution was chemical and organic in nature, rather than magical.
I’d probably be fine. No reason to test it, though. There would be nothing to gain, except knowledge of her own capabilities.
Stop that, Tala. It would be colossally foolish to test your inscriptions and ending berry power against a plant. Maybe if there was something tangible to gain but only then. Maybe.
More mushrooms of varying kinds and ever-increasing sizes began to dot the landscape around them, among the trees, as they pressed on.
Here, there was what could almost be described as a road through the vegetation.
Hard-packed dirt in two obvious lines marked a clear and easy path for the wagons. There was even the occasional, simple bridge over some of the larger waterways.
Tala frowned as she examined the path. “I know this is supposed to be a safer area, but isn’t taking the same route each time dangerous?”
“It might be if anything could be waiting in ambush. This area isn’t really large enough to inconvenience the largest, Magical predators. In area, it’s smaller than most cities.”
Even with that reassurance, Tala felt deep discomfort at following such a path through any portion of the Wilds.
The forest didn’t get any darker as they progressed, and as Tala examined the canopy above, she could see evidence of pruning in the upper reaches. Clearly, someone had taken a good deal of time to have a narrow range of brightness in this section of the forest.
Over the next hour, Tala began to notice great swaths of lichen-like growths, covering sections of the forest floor, seemingly decomposing the detritus on the ground. Eventually, it was a unified layer, covering everything other than the two dirt tracks that the caravan continued resolutely down.
Finally, when the light was beginning to fade, they came into a much larger clearing, centered around a massive stump that was covered with mushrooms the size of houses.
As their back rider came into the clearing, a voice filled the space.
As Tala looked around, she saw that the mushrooms, themselves, were vibrating to create the sound. The result was a deep rumble, with quite a bit of sub-vocal resonance, which vibrated in their chests, even as they heard the spoken words.
“What are you doing in my woods?”
Mistress Odera didn’t even open her eyes. “We are delivering the goods you requested, before continuing on to Bandfast.”
A small woman appeared beside Tala, her voice soft and smooth. “Oh, why didn’t you say so.”
Mistress Odera opened her eyes then, and bowed to the woman. “Mistress Noelle, I presume?”
Noelle waved her off. “Just Noelle.”
Mistress Odera hesitated. “But Mistress-”
Noelle cut across the older woman. “Drop the Mistress, or I will end you.” She gave a tight smile.
Tala almost laughed, but she couldn’t see even a hint of mirth on the woman’s face, despite the smile.
Mistress Odera regarded the Archon for a long moment then nodded. “I am Odera, and this is Mistress Tala. Master Rane is the other Mage Protector for this caravan.”
Noelle grinned widely. “Tala, Odera, Rane!” She shouted the last, and Rane turned to regard the top of the wagon. “Pleased to meet you.” Her voice carried to Rane, once again out in front of the lead wagon, and he gave a marginally confused partial bow in her direction.
Tala cocked her head. “So, Noelle…” She stopped there. It felt weird to address an Archon without their moniker. I’m really settling-in to Mage social norms.
“Yes, Tala?” Noelle’s lips were pulled up into a small smile. She seemed to enjoy the lack of formality.
“I assume that you are the primary Archon of these fungi-filled woods?”
“But of course.” She gestured to herself. “Can’t you tell?”
Tala looked at the woman more closely, then. Noelle was short, shorter even than Tala, herself. She had bob-cut, dark blonde hair that seemed perfectly clean and styled, despite the mugginess in the air. Even though her aura was held in tight, Noelle seemed to be letting just a bit out, for Tala’s inspection.
Tala frowned. “Fused? How are you only fused?” The inscriptions that she could see pointed to the woman being a Material Guide, focused on something close to plant life. Fungi, most likely. It was a guess, though likely a correct one.
Noelle leaned in close. “The questions you shook be asking are: How I only look Fused, and why I want you to make that assumption.” She smiled mischievously. “Now, how are you magically inert, even while clearly affected by innumerable active inscriptions?” After a moment, Noelle winked. “Well, except your eyes. How did you manage that color? Not a ruby Archon, are you? They are oh so boring.” She sighed, shaking her head as she turned to Mistress Odera, and held out her hand. “Give it over.”
Mistress Odera seemed to relax as she tossed her barbed, glass, Archon star to the smaller woman. “Thank you.”
Noelle’s hand twitched, and a puff of glowing powder surrounded the glass, even as it flew through the air. The powder seemed to draw out the power from the spell-form within the glass before dissolving the glass, itself. “Happy to assist, Forbidden.”
Mistress Odera bowed her head.
Noelle laughed, suddenly standing in front of the older Mage, grabbing Mistress Odera’s chin and lifting her head. “None of that. Come, you all are tired, and I want my stuff.” She hesitated, then glanced to Tala. “And you have so many questions to answer.” She walked over to link arms with Tala. “Let’s go.”
She moved with Tala, and Tala didn’t resist, even as the little woman walked them off the edge of the wagon’s roof.
A mushroom sprang up under their feet and another as they progressed, each lower than the last, until they stood on the ground.
Noelle looked back towards the wagons. “You! Giant!”
Rane was, obviously, already staring at the two women, and he seemed utterly baffled by what was happening.
“Rane!”
He startled, then walked their way.
“Good boy. We’ve a lot to discuss, including why your souls seem to be halfway in sync with each other. I’ve been trying to synchronize mushroom souls for years.”
Tala gave her a puzzled look. “Mushroom…souls?” She decided to ignore the other bit.
Noelle shrugged. “Souls, spirits, magical underpinnings that allow for the defying of natural law. Take your pick.”
Tala opened her mouth to try to form a response, but Noelle snatched up Rane’s arm with her free hand and took off at a brisk walk, towards the fungi-covered stump.
“Come, come. They’ll unload what needs unloading.”
As if at the words, Tala saw a dozen other Mages exiting the house-sized mushrooms before them. Oh, they actually are houses… It was going to be a very odd evening.
Advertisement
- In Serial105 Chapters
God's Trials
Daichi lived in a wonderful world. Happiness was common, people knew their neighbors, his life like any other could be described in one word: peaceful. Then one day that changed, his life as well as the lives of everybody in his town suddenly ended. In one day the lives of nearly everybody he knew were suddenly snuffed out seemingly for no reason. The aftermath leaving a changed world with new rules, and only four survivors from once thriving town. The world now different, leaves only one choice and one path for those surviving to follow; The path to power or death. Note: Please note, this story was never categorized as a LitRPG, it merely contains those elements as a plot point for the development of the plot later on. Official Website: 9tribulations.net (Chapters through 200+)
8 90 - In Serial19 Chapters
Interview With the Hattoris
Yuko Hiragi is an aspiring journalist. She goes about her internship with hopes of scoring a big scoop so that she can be set with a nice job after she graduates college. When she gets an opportunity to interview the corrupt and powerful Jensen Skagg, her dreams of fame become dashed when he is murdered before her eyes by a mysterious assassin. She is soon thrust into the dark world of murder and intrigue as she is hosted by the ancient and powerful Hattori family.
8 129 - In Serial30 Chapters
Red Wheat
Skylar Kylee Wintersong was born an Indigo Child. Celebrated by her parents, who ensured that she suffered no restrictions that might hinder her powers, ability or genius, she has grown up knowing that she was a member of the elite, born to rule and guide. However, the cruel whims of beings who are Gods have intervened, and not only dropped Skylar in a savage reality of magic, muscle, steel, and blood, but granted her all the powers she thought she was entitled to. Her knowledge that she's been born to rule and guide, that she was a chosen one, has been made real, with all the terrible burden that entails. How will a 21st Century Earth girl survive on the Six Worlds of Shtar? A place known as "The War Worlds." The entire thing is somewhat tongue in cheek, fun high fantasy with a touch of satire. Rather than adding in likable and relatable characters, the three Earthlings are supposed to be caricatures and somewhat satirical, as I was making fun of the type of fantasy that was being spit out all over the place at the time I wrote this about a decade ago. It is currently unfinished and on hiatus.
8 200 - In Serial60 Chapters
Dream Theater
Long casted shadows danced in the background, as a man squibbled and jotted words on yellow papers. A mere novelty, remnant and ghost that was left to age away along with the forgotten theater, a man grasped for inspiration to salvage what was left of his soul. Abandoned in the squalid room, Pxan was left hauntedly in the furthest corners of insanity that bubbled in his mind. No one would listen to his plight, denouncing him and claiming his mind was not right. Even though the world left him with nothing, turning their backs to him, he knew the books would never betray him in the same fashion. Faceless pages and books yet to be read ogled puppy eyes, ready to be penned by the madman. “Pxan! Pxan! Over here! To me!” Clamored the unpublished manuscripts. Pxan’s fingers quivered nervously, thoughts of failure flooded his mind. Wanting to surrender to the pressure. “No!” He cried. “I’ve had enough of writing.” Books with eyes all stared at him, begging for the tales to be written. Their pleaful eyes were all that Pxan needed to be moved to writing again. The man sighed and raised his pen again, stroking the first letters of inspiration that bore fruit from his mind. A maddening tale of a policeman, cultists and a violent revenge… -Currently on Hiatus while writing the second volume.The first volume is up. I will take a few days to rewrite a few chapters. Afterwards, updates will proceed as usual.Current rewrite progress 17/59 chapters rewrited. This is my first real novel, any kind of criticism or feedback is appreciated. I am looking for an editor, if someone wants to help me avoid typos please contact me. The cover is a detail of Faust in His Study by Ary Scheffer, c. 1831, watercolor and gouache on paper.
8 171 - In Serial15 Chapters
Ironclad
For fifty years this war has ravaged the solar system, with Earth and her colonies struggling to fight against the guerrilla forces of the Pro-Independence regime started by the governments of Mercury, Saturn and Pluto. The war was hard fought, and both sides lost uncountable lives. But the war is coming to a close. Ironclad, Earth's elite branch of the Navy are closing in on the remaining Pro-Independence leaders hiding on Titan and don't plan on letting anyone escape without a fight.
8 193 - In Serial155 Chapters
Interpersonal Chemistry
On the cusp of 30, Mitch Calvert is a typical Millennial that finds himself facing instability and crossroads for what feels like the hundredth goddamn time in a decade. Now he’s temporarily incapacitated, which is keeping him from his form of escapism at the worst imaginable moment. But what can you do? It’s either take the beatdown without putting up any resistance, or grab a steel chair and start swinging back. Interpersonal Chemistry is the story of misfit wrestlers that takes place in the fictional city of Monument, Massachusetts. It’s rated M, intended for mature audiences only due to sensitive subject matters such as: mental illness, addiction, trauma, violence (typical of the setting), and vulgar language.
8 192

