“I thought we had a deal.”

“We do, you’re just overreacting.”

“Delilah Silvanus’ warnings were quite clear.”

“Oh, what would that little goody-two shoes know?”

“She’s the head divine instructor, I think her voice carries a bit of weight on the topic.”

Agrippina sighed, finally looking up from the paperwork on her desk, “Delilah Silvanus is like every other cleric, timid, self-righteous to a fault, and Godsdamn annoying. She’s the kind of instructor who would wrap her students in gambeson head to toe. If you’re too scared to experience things, you’ll never grow.”

“So you’re saying my soul won’t be permanently crippled?”

She put her hand on her cheek and tilted her head at me, “Crippled is such a harsh word, let’s just call it differently abled, don’t you feel better?”

She smiled at my blank stare, “Your healing is such that it’s not that big of a problem, come now, don’t be a sissy.”

“She said that it would cause wounds that couldn’t be healed, is that true or not?”

“Not…Entirely… It’ll cause wounds, but those will scab over. Scar you a little, certainly, but that’s still a type of healing, is it not?”

“Will they affect my soul or ability to do magic?”

“Affect, yes, but how is the interesting part. You see, it’s different for every arcane user, and with your natural healing ability, any deleterious effects should be mostly countered.”

“So my soul and arcani will be fine?”

“Most likely.”

“That doesn’t exactly instill me with confidence, I want to switch to a staff.”

She righted her head, her fingers now absentmindedly tapping on the desk. She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply.

“Very well, mage trainee Rimoude, clearly you’ve already made up your mind, what would I know of such things?” when she opened her eyes I could feel her malice and mockery, “Choose a staff and be sure not to use your powers past your SP, safety first and all that...”

Her tone was condescending, but I was fairly certain she meant what she said. This was…a surprising concession on her part. I honestly thought I’d have to fight her tooth and nail.

“Well, if that’s all, then begone, but be sure to have your apology prepared the next time you enter my office.”

“A, an, an, apology?” I stuttered in disbelief.

“Yes, a formal, sincere apology.”

“For what?”

Her fingers steepled on top of her desk as the maliciousness spread to her smile.

“You’ve let fear and dread consume you. Fear of what might happen, dread of what can happen… Every spell you cast has a chance to backfire, but that’s just how it is. I know what you think of me, and our deal, but let me make one thing crystal clear to you, Rimoude, the way I do things yields results, prompt, quick, and expeditiously.”

She forgot to add painfully…

“Part of that is a willingness to expose my students to danger, literally blasting them straight into harm’s way whenever necessary. They turn out stronger…or dead… Either way, a net positive to society.”

“What good are your results to me if I’m a corpse, or stuck in another coma?!”

“You’re absolutely right. My methods are clearly only suited for men and women, not a weak and pathetic peasant such as yourself. You try your little crutch for a day or two, be cautious and timid in your studies… Ha, ha, ha! Unfortunately for you, you’ve come too far to turn back now. Oh, right! Do be sure to pick one with daisies, preferably yellow to better match your courage.”

Reaching for her quill, Agrippina resumed her paperwork, a smug grin from ear to ear. I glared for a few seconds longer before exiting her office, nothing I said to her would end well for me. She had another thing coming if she thought she could goad me into continuing to hobble my very soul. Screw her and whatever lies she thought I’d swallow, I had a staff to choose.

--------------------------------------------------

Leisurely I made my way to the storerooms on the first basement floor, doing my best to keep upbeat. Sure, that last conversation had been awful, but it went fairly close to what I had expected. I grunted as I alighted the last step, the stale air and moldy grey walls my only welcome. Virgil was waiting inside the first archway just after the stairs, smoking a pipe. Seeing me, he popped the pipe out his mouth to mutter some curses.

“Godsdamnit young’un! Everyone’s already picked their crap, don’t tell me that’s why you’re a’ here now?”

“You know me, I just wanted some quality time with my favorite groundskeeper.”

“Annoying son of a…” He griped, leading me to one of the larger rooms down the corridor.

In truth, I could’ve just chosen a staff and told Agrippina later. However, I thought it best to let everyone else have their pick first. Though I wouldn’t have the pick of the litter, I also wouldn’t have to worry about literally getting into a fight over some cheap staff. Anything given out for free was guaranteed to either be of inferior quality, or serve some ulterior motive.

We entered an immense room. Racks and racks of staves were arrayed in the center of the room while the wands were stacked high in deep wooden boxes near the walls. In the farthest corner of the room lay overflowing boxes of what looked like horrendous mistakes in craftsmanship.

“Hurry up and pick something, nothing here is even fine quality, so don’t be wasting your time, or more importantly, mine.”

I walked along the nearest wall, taking a careful look at the wands. There were many mass-produced samples, mahogany, solidly varnished, only the lodestones embedded near the tip varying. Someone had used a lathe to shave pieces of timber until they were all a similar, requisite, shape.

There were also unique ones, clearly carved and polished by hand. The craftmanship was a grade or two above the lathed ones. Many included carved designs, skulls, animals, monsters, people, and many floral patterns. There were a few oddly curved metal ones, mostly created using a spiral pattern. I had no idea whether the wooden or metal ones would be superior. The lodestone ores in each glowed faintly, a sign of low quality. I grabbed a plain wooden one with a blue lodestone.

The wood was alright quality wise, though the dark varnish was haphazardly applied. The blue lodestone pulsed a little when I first touched it. The ore was cut into a faceted circlet shape. Looking closer, the edges were chipped and the faces not perfectly smooth. Much like my arcane skills, nowhere near perfect.

I slipped it into my robe’s belt around my waist before heading to the racks. Best to keep a wand as a backup and use a staff as my primary. Early on in my childhood I had noticed that good luck somehow always found those who were prepared. I chuckled, only fools believed in luck, fate, and coincidence.

“Hey! You can only choose one!”

“Come on Virgil, they’re all crap, who’s really going to miss one or two extra?”

I paced the racks, never turning to him. I heard a whoosh as he used his arcane to give his pipe a little more of a light as he murmured some insults about impertinence. The staves were similar to the wands, many mass-produced ones along with a smattering of more unique designs. The designs were of little importance to me, though I would die long before I chose any of the flowery ones. Ugh, there was one with butterflies, just…why? Some of the staves’ exteriors were speckled with a thin layer of lodestone dust, giving them unique colors. Green, blue, red, yellow, pink…

Since the wand would serve as a backup in case my staff failed, I intended to find the best staff I could. Naturally I was incredibly disappointed. I wasn’t expecting anything fantastic, but I still wanted something useful. Every single staff had some obvious defect or defects, I suppose that was just the quality that the Commoner’s Spire sought to attain. I looked over at the crates and piles of staves along the wall. Quickly I closed the distance and began sorting through what appeared to be the worst of the rejects. Numerous wands and staffs were bent at extremely odd angles, some more than 90 degrees. Most of the wares were missing lodestones, several had large cracks throughout.

Sighing, I scoured through the pile, finally stopping when I saw a shape I was well accustomed to.

“Virgil, is this actually a staff?”

“What? Huh?”

I raised the mostly straight piece of scrap so that he could better see it.

“No, that’s just a curtain rod, of course it’s a blasted staff you ignorant, half-witted gnoll! Why in the hell…”

“But it’s shaped like a spear?”

“As long as it’s the right material, possesses a lodestone, and is properly made, any damned staff like shape’ll do. Tsk, Godsdamn dolt.”

“So, the shape won’t affect the performance?”

“One silver.”

“What?”

“You want my help, one sil…Nah, let’s make that two silvers, advice ain’t free.”

“But you’re in charge of handing these things out, isn’t it your job…”

“My job is to hand them out, not answer dumbass questions.”

My eyes glared daggers at the old man before I calmed my temper. Gotta pull a “Little Theo” on the bastard…

“Come now Virgil, who helped you with the cesspit cleaning, and when Miss Helthinth was haranguing you, who stepped in to help?”

“And who made himself some coin in the doing?”

Think, think, think. What could I say…

“Virgil, you’ll still be needing help in the future.”

“The seniors are back, so not nearly so much, those self-important, pricy bastards!”

He spit angrily on the stone floor. I smiled, a perfect opening.

“You know, I could do some of their tasks…”

“YOU?! A path…”

“For a fraction of the price.”

“Even if you did the work for free, it wouldn’t matter, you need the skills,” he crossed his arms defiantly at me.

“Surely there’s something you need done that they’re not willing to?”

“The only thing they wouldn’t do would only be the stupidest, most suicidal of tas…”

Virgil’s eyes lit up before he could put on a façade of nonchalance. His eyes carefully, deliberately, went up and to the right as he considered my proposal.

“So you’ll do tasks for me, for a fraction of the price?”

“Well, uh, just how suicidal are we talking?”

“Why, nothing you and your other worlder friend ain’t done before.”

Ugh, two silvers was preferable to what he was hinting at. I reached into my pocket to pull out the old laced bag that served as my coin purse, I hated parting with any of my savings, but better that than my life, or another hole in my chest.

Virgil snatched the coins as soon as they were offered.

“So then, the shape won’t affect the performance?”

“The rounder the head, and longer the body, the better the channeling, so that rubbish you’re holding won’t be as good as a normal staff cause of its sharpened tip,” his voice was still filled with boredom, minus some of the earlier crossness.

“How much worse?”

“20 percent poorer, most likelies, maybe a bit more, it’s still got the right body, so it’ll still be ahead of a wand. All the specimens here are only good for 1-6.5 percent boosts to your arcane, so you won’t be losing much oomph. You should choose it if you’re so interested, a rubbish stave for a rubbish mage, a match made by the Gods!”

He began cackling at his pathetic joke. I gripped the staff/spear tightly, considering. I was trash with a sword, there was no denying that, but I could handle a spear. This would allow me to fight at a distance even if my SP was depleted. The item was pitiful, certainly no diamond in in the rough.

It would do for the moment, but it gave me an idea.

“So, any weapon, wand or staff shaped, can channel an arcane?”

“What’d I just say, fool?! Any properly made ones, you can’t just take a weapon and make it into something a mage can use.”

“But such a thing could be made, yes?”

Virgil looked at me confused, “Sure, but why in the hell would you waste money, time, nonsense on such, such… Nonsense?!”

I smiled, imagining something that could be of more use to me, “How much would such a thing cost?”

“Hum! More than you’ve got, that’s certain.”

Rapidly billowing smoke from his pipe and lips, Virgil began walking closer my way.

“Add to that, you typically need to provide your own lodestone ore, yeah, not happening.”

“Well, if I obtained a slightly less than fine quality lodestone, would that work?”

“Aye, most likely, but if you’re going to’a make your own, you want the best you can get, find, or steal.”

“Does the type matter?”

“Each Lodestone has a different affect on your affinities, thus strengthening your arcane. Ruby will increase strength, garnet penetrating power, emerald protection, sapphire casting speed, Amethyst afflictions, topaz resistance, onyx something or another, opal decreased SP consumption, and etc., etc., and etc… In addition, if the color matches the color of your arcane, there’ll be an added boost, but that’s primarily useful when it’s superior quality. Which you certainly won’t be finding, nor buying.”

Virgil grabbed the iron spear/staff from my hands. He gave it a thoughtful once over, tapping on the light blue lodestone. Grimacing, he threw it into my chest.

“Gah!”

“Yeah, this thingie’s the idiot dream of an even bigger idiot. Mages do magics, not damned melee. Stick with what you’re good at, or in your case, less crappy at.”

“How come none of the weapons here have more than one lodestone?”

“There’s no need to waste genuine craftmanship on you lot, seventy percent of your class will be dead before the year’s up, and maybe half of them will be so selfish as to expire outside of the grounds. Hard to retrieve staffs and wands outside the walls, no consideration that lot.”

“That’s, that’s a bit higher than I had thought… In survival training we only lost twenty percent.”

“Well, that was the goal, surviving, dummy. Here the goal is to create good, proficient like mages, speedily. Walls ain’t agonna defend themselves.”

“Still, I mean…”

“No, there’s no agoing soft here, young’un. You…”

“I DIDN’T SAY SOFT. Mages are valuable, the more we have, even noncombat, the better for everyone.”

“No, not at all,” Virgil stopped, a grimace forming, “Magic is not free, nor is it in abun, abundanz, abund... Ugh, nevermind. Magic’s not free, that’s why not many monsters yield it, and why it’s far better to have more refined mages than a lot of rough ones. You’re too close to the Spire to understand.”

“What do you mean?”

Virgil took one of his old, withered hands and carefully studied it before turning to me.

“Just how old do you think I am, boy?”

I carefully studied his face, beaten by time. His bent back, gaunt frame, and timeless eyes surrounded by a bevy of deep crows-feet.

“Sixty…?” I hazarded.

He shook his head, “Thirty-two next month.”

My mouth dropped, as did the spear in my hands, clattering noisily on the ground.

“When you finally depart the Spire, be very cautious. Try to stay in a city if you can, don’t use your SP past the limit, and try to avoid gettin’ hurt. The gettin’ hurt part is what I think I dids wrong. Wasn’t barely a week I didn’t suffer some purty serious injuries, healers always did what they could, but damned if I didn’t end up like this.”

“That’s… I’m sorry Virgil.”

What else could was there to say?

He scoffed, “Bah, don’t be giving me none’a you pity, I mades my choices, just like you’ll make yours. I’m still alive, more than I can say for most of the mages I knew, and likelies more than anyone can say for you.”

I nodded, not knowing what else to do. There was an awkward silence as the old, er not so old, man took a long draw. He blew several smoke rings in succession.

“Like I saids, you’re a near the Spire, or a city proper, don’t worry, but once you’re outside a ways, be careful, you’ll come to understand when you first venture too far from the Spire.”

Tentatively I retrieved my weapon from the floor, Virgil’s expression hardened. Best to get back on topic before he considered our bargain complete.

“If I want a staff custom made, who would I see?”

“Enchanting, second floor, but don’t be awasting their time, they hates that. You’ll need five large silver for a fair creation, a gold or twos if you want something fine, four to six gold for something to be proud of. You provide your own lodestone, don’t buy any from them, you’ll just be throwing your monies away.”

I nodded again, clutching the spear/staff tightly.

“Thanks Virgil, I appreciate it.”

He grunted, “How much monies you got?”

“Uh, not much, er…”

With money it would be much, monies?

“Many?”

A smile spread to his lips, “You know, those tasks none of those prissy senior mages would do… I might just happen to knows where a cave or forest lami might be a laying, when you want that custom crap job, see me first, I think we can come to an agreement.”

The water lamia had been difficult enough, a cave lamia would be suicide. A forest lamia, huh…

“Sure, I will Virgil.”

“You dos that, boy. Oh, and one more thing.”

He beckoned for my staff which I quickly handed over. The shaft was two inches in diameter, metal speckled with a thin veneer of garnet lodestone with a crescent moon shape near the center. Virgil slapped the shape while murmering, “constrict.”

The four-foot spear immediately collapsed into a foot-long baton with a seven-inch spear’s head. Virgil slapped the crescent again, this time with an “expand.”

The spear extended, returning to its previous length.

“Lucky you, the constrict/expand enchantment on this one works. Most staves’ll have one, more convenient for storing on you person.”

Well, this was a pleasant surprise.

Virgil continued, “Keep in mind never to use it when it’s constricted, the more powerful the spell you attempt, the worse the backlash. You think there’ll be trouble, have it out beforehand, many a mage thought a few seconds not that critical, right up till they were.”

Virgil held his hand out expectantly. My eyes darted questioningly from his open palm, to his devious eyes.

“One more silver, you knows, for being such a helpful gent to you.”

Almost snarling I took out another silver. I thought of pulling a dagger, groundskeeper or not, this was highway robbery. Sadly, even if I could take down a more experienced mage, there would be hell to pay. Suicidal.

Not paying him would likely piss him off for a few days, he’d probably find a way to stiff me on the already low wages I received. He might even be willing to have the senior mages take over my duties. Terrible.

Paying him would deplete my funds, and earn me no goodwill nor loyalty on his part. In fact, this would almost certainly lead to him trying to shake me down for coins whenever I needed something from him. Bad.

Clearly there was only one correct path…

I kept a neutral, slightly defeated, expression as I took out the coin and positioned it on my thumb. Virgil’s eyes greedily moved in sync with the silver. I flipped the coin…

Yep, only one path, pay Virgil…

I’d put a little too much power behind the flip, the coin easily sailing over Virgil’s head and outstretched hands. He groaned as he leapt half a foot, vainly reaching for the currency.

…while simultaneously pissing him off so that, even if this happened again, he’d wince at the very memory.

The coin clanked noisily against a long metal staff before clinking softer and softer as it quickly fell deeper and deeper into one of the larger boxes of staves behind Virgil.

“You Godsdamn…” he started throwing staves left and right, desperately trying to clear the mountain so that he could get to that coin, “Do you knows how long this is going to take to get that damned silver?!”

I smiled as I turned to walk away. Sometimes in life all you have are shit choices, but once in a great while, you have a little leeway in their execution. Sure, I was down an extra silver, but hearing the middle-aged old man scream and curse as he frantically searched, the clatter of wood and iron, a loud crunching noise as he stepped on what was surely not the cheapest of tobacco pipes…

By the Gods, even if he'd asked for five silver, I'd have still come out ahead on this deal.

--------------------------------------------------

Damn those mages. As the illustrious, and only, Lodestone Engineering Guild, we have first access to the best lodestone. What scraps are left are allowed to trickle down to the Spires. The Nobles’ Spire has power and influence, so their acquisition of higher tier lodestone is no mystery, but the Commoners’ Mage Spire… How the hell are they obtaining anything other than inferior stock? Several of their members have obtained superior quality ores, which makes no sense. When questioned, it’s always the same orc shit response, “Oh, this old thing? I just happened across it on the ground, I won it from a monster, it came to me in a vision,” or, my personal favorite, “Twas my granny’s.” Bah! It’s bad enough that Schelm and the coastal cities have some unknown access to superior quality, but for such things to happen inside of the Republic without us knowing, there is something going on.

When questioned, neither headmaster of either spire provided any useful information. The only hint was one elderly professor remarking, “How do you think the Dark Lord obtained those lodestones of his on his staff, or even his armor?” When questioned further, he became evasive, claiming it was just an off the cuff remark. Those damned mages are hiding something, when we’ve finally replaced them with a lodestone alternative, I’m confident more persuasive interrogation methods will be allowed.

Note to Self: Be certain any new interrogators are aware of the tongue-in-cheek rule. Extremely uncooperative prisoners are to have one cheek removed before going beyond any advanced techniques so that it’s certain whether or not they have had their tongues removed. We don’t want another repeat where their tongue is cut out, and their hands amputated or broken. If they can’t talk or write, what the bloody hell is the point of even torturing them?! Enthusiasm in the industry is to be praised, but so is a bit of forethought…

-Cyprea Monstrator, Lodestone Republic Chief Lodestone Specialist.