MillennialMage
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Chapter: 617 Bonus - New City Citizens
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 02:49:09 +0000 UTCPrevious__________ToC__________Next
Fren was consumed by his work, sweat pouring from seemingly his whole body. His muscles had long since passed the point of soreness and moved into that comfortable rhythm of a true endurance activity.
The magical forge was a blessing and a half, but the cost to run it made his need to keep working powerful, and it certainly made his smithy hot.
He snorted at that thought, setting another nail in the bucket. Smithies were never cold, unless the smith was out of work, and that was unlikely in the current state of things. It was tapped straight into the magic grid of the city, but in the lower powered state, that meant it cost more to have his needs prioritized.
Regardless, it had been worth the investment, the cost of the forge having been lowered to offset the greater power costs in these early stages of the city.
His task was rote, allowing for the meandering thoughts.
With a practiced motion, he took a ladle of water and dumped it over his own head.
It seemed foolish to hand-make nails when several factories had been spun up, at least one in order to produce the same product, but his customer didn’t feel it was the same. They wanted ‘hand-wrought’ nails, and who was he to turn away their coin.
Exhausted, that’s who. The money had been too good. He’d earn the nails’ weight in silver if he could finish on time. It would make his investments and moving costs back and then some. It should allow him to finally hunt down another apprentice.
He glanced over to where the assistant he’d picked up to help with this order was working, getting the iron stock ready for him. He was a good enough lad, but at only twelve, he simply wasn’t going to be able to be a true apprentice for at least another handful of years.
Just a thousand more nails. and I’m done. After months of work, he only had a week left. Still, he could do it. He had to. Normally, such would be simple, but he had been burning the candle at both ends. Maybe I should take a day to recover, get a massage, and then get back to work?
He only hesitated a moment before shaking his head. No, I’ll let my forge cool when this is done. A few days of true relaxation will be wonderful, once it’s been earned.
He took a deep drink from the ladle before dumping another over his back. The assistant would refill the bucket.
Fren had nails to make.
*
Betha wove through the rowdy patrons, hoping that the lunch rush continued for just a bit longer, her steps and hips shifting in time with the music.
Sure, she had to deal with a dozen proposals of marriage every day, but the pay was amazing, and she didn’t really mind the attention either.
I wonder how many of the proposals would dry up if I tried to accept them? It didn’t bear considering. The attention was nice, but none of these boys were her type. She wanted a man of principle, of character.
Her hope had been to start a family in this new city. After all, a man willing to come out to the frontier had to be a tough one, right?
She’d taken the harrowing trip out, the sister caravan to hers being lost just a day before arriving. That had cast a pall over their arrival, but it had meant there was less competition for work, at least for a bit.
That’s looking on the bright side, Betha. Nice.
She’d secured a place waiting tables at one of the larger restaurants near the northern gates. It catered to the miners, and this early in the city’s cycle, they were ‘striking it rich’ every other day.
That meant patrons often wanted to slip her extra coin for faster service, or just as a thank you, and Betha didn’t mind that at all.
Unfortunately, the miners also mourned the death of one of their own every week or so, but that was the price of such opportunities. Some men just weren’t willing to take the proper precautions as they staked their claim in the earth. Playing fast and loose with safety worked out for a few of those maniacs, but not all by a foot or a mile.
Betha gave a sad smile as she passed by a wall, carved from floor to about knee height with names of the fallen.
Give me a man who takes his time and does it right any day. Any fool who strikes it rich cutting corners isn’t going to ever learn his lesson. I don’t want to be a young widow… or a widow at all for that matter. Stars take me before my man… whoever he turns out to be… and after a long, full life.
The next tray of food and drinks was ready, and so she swept back into the mass of men and the occasional woman.
She wasn’t earning gold, but she was pocketing silver by the handful. At this rate, by the time she found the right man, she’d contribute to their future together more than she’d ever hoped.
And if he’s the right man, he will find the money to be a pleasant surprise, rather than an expected obligation.
She skillfully spun around a reaching hand that was trying to get ahold of a plate that wasn’t theirs. Her voice cracked out, loud enough to be heard without being loud enough to disturb others. “Your food’s coming soon enough! Patience now.”
That got a groan from the attempted ‘thief’, but the groan might also have been because one of his tablemates had smacked him over the head. “Do you want us to be served last? Patience and politeness are—”
Betha lost the rest in the din as she moved on. She glanced back, though. A man who was willing to stand up to his friends was someone worth keeping an eye on.
Maybe, just maybe, she’d say yes the next time that one asked to take her to dinner.
*
Bard stalked through the trees, hunting his prey.
The animals were getting further and further afield of late, but they were still plentiful enough to keep food on the table between their hides, organs, and other harvest. The meat was also, obviously, literally food for his table.
His bow was strung, and an arrow laid against the string as he crept forward. He’d been stalking this small herd since early morning, and it was finally time to take his shot.
He leaned around a tree, glancing out, taking in the buck and four does. The buck.
The does were most likely all pregnant by this point of late autumn, so killing one of them would be killing two deer with little gain. The loss of the buck wouldn’t hurt the herd in the long term.
He leaned out again, only to see the does bolting and the buck gone.
Bard’s long-honed senses were suddenly screaming at him as he felt something behind him and spun, finding a terror looking down on him.
He almost drew and fired on instinct, but something deep within him knew that would be futile. The arrow fell from his hands, and he almost reached for the one magical arrow he carried—one black with magical sigilry or whatever it was called. The guard had promised it would slay most creatures and at least give him a chance to run from most others.
But there was no way he’d be able to get the arrow to the string and fire in time.
So… this is it? He swallowed and calmed, accepting his fate. Live by the forest, die by the forest, I suppose.
The creature looked down upon him with eyes the color of blood. Its feathers looked more like scales in the mottled light, and he almost found himself believing the tales of ancient, slumbering dragons.
But no, this was no dragon. It wasn’t even a lizard. It was a terror bird.
My arrow might have a better chance against a dragon. The wayward, obviously nonsensical thought proved that he wasn’t quite as sanguine about his circumstances as he’d thought he was.
The bird regarded him for a long moment, seeming to take him in from head to toe. Then, it squawked, tilting its head back.
Is it exposing its throat? No, that would be foolishness. Except… it was. That’s exactly what it was doing. That exposure showed a leather collar, tucked under the feathers.
Bard let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, his body finally beginning to tremble in suddenly released fear. “Oh… you’re with someone, some human?”
The bird bobbed its head.
“Oh, thank the stars.” He practically collapsed, strength fleeing his limbs. “Well… I’ll live, but I suppose my prey is gone.”
The avian tilted its head and chirped, lifting a foot and pointing with a talon.
Bard frowned at the oddly human gesture, but looked where he was bidden, regardless. There, just barely visible, he could see the antlers of a fallen buck.
This creature had killed his target.
He turned back, but the bird was gone.
Bard shuddered again. He hadn’t even heard that large creature leave, and that shouldn’t have been possible.
“You didn’t hear it arrive either, Bard…” He shook himself, moving over to the fresh kill. He needed to gut and prepare it before the meat spoiled. It was a cool day, but there was no cause to tempt fate.
*
“Now, how did you hurt your hand this time?” Kellye tried to be patient as she worked to wrap these newest wounds.
“I don’t know… I thought I was being careful, but those crazy magical saws are dangerous.” Salman groaned. “It just took the tip right off.”
Kelly examined the hand in question once more, the last knuckle of three fingers were resting beside it on her sterile worksurface. She sighed. “This will have to be healed, Salman. Stitches just won’t do it, not if you want to regain use of your hand again. Why are you operating tools you don’t understand?”
“I do understand them! They just get away from me sometimes.”
“You’re spending all your pay on healing. Why won’t you just take a less dangerous position?”
Salman hunched in on himself, clearly feeling grumpy about the whole situation. “It’s not dangerous. None of the other guys get hurt.”
She gave him a flat look.
He leaned back, clearly moving from grumpy to defensive. “That doesn’t mean anything!” He looked around as if seeking a means of escape. “What if I just wanted to see you again?”
She sighed. “Most women prefer flowers to fingers.”
He opened his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips.
She cut across him. “None of that now. I’ll not take well to ‘I’d give my whole hand for you’ or anything like that. You’ve tried it before, and that time you actually had lost your whole hand.”
He grunted, grimacing, seeming to deflate a bit. “They seem so simple… Why do I keep getting hurt?”
She shrugged, finishing binding the wound until the Healer could get to Salman. “I don’t know, but I wish you’d take better care of yourself…”
He perked up. “I might, if I had someone to care for too.”
Her heart fluttered a bit, but she suppressed it. Salman was a tease, and she wouldn’t be goaded. She shook her head. “No, none of that either. Holding your health as leverage is no way to start a relationship.” She grimaced, steeling herself to say her peace. “Besides, teasing isn’t very nice.”
He shook his head. “No, Kellye. I’m not teasing. I’d court you if you’d let me. I’m just no good at asking, it seems.”
She turned on him. “Salman! That’s enough. It’s not kind to lead a girl on.”
“But I’m not trying to lead you on. I’d love to take you to dinner.”
Kellye hesitated. “Really?”
He nodded. “The nicest place in town.”
She looked at his hand, and he followed her gaze and grimaced again.
“I… I might not be able to afford that, actually. But… the place down the street? After work today? I have to get back after the healing if I want to keep my job.”
She gave him an appraising look. “Fine. I’ll go to dinner with you, once. We’ll see how it goes from there.”
He grinned. “Maybe these injuries are for the best after all!”
“No. Stop getting hurt.” Her tone was firm and unwavering.
He sighed, hanging his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
*
Henri frowned as he read through his notes for the dozenth time. More like hundredth…
His master insisted that he be meticulous, and he understood why… in theory. Even so, it was exhausting to spend so much time ensuring he understood the workings.
It was his magic after all. Shouldn’t he know his own magics better than anyone? What did he have to learn from others?
That is exactly what his master would say. He should know his own magics better than anyone else. It was precisely that reason which showed the truth that he should learn as much as he could from others.
He grimaced.
He’d let himself get distracted yet again.
He returned his focus to his notes, verifying one last time before closing the book and nodding.
The infuriating woman was sitting nearby, her own book propped open. She didn’t even bother looking up. “So? Are you ready?”
“Yes…”
She did look up then. “Are you sure? You don’t sound ready.”
“I was ready when we woke up this morning.” Henri grumbled.
Some of her joviality bled away from her face. “Henri, if that were true, we wouldn’t have spent the morning in this barn. You’d have done the first one perfectly, and been through all on our docket by now.”
Henri looked around, taking in the dirty stalls and manure filled hay. “Well, I didn’t really want to spend all this time…”
“But you need to.”
He grumbled but didn’t argue.
“So then? Are you ready?”
“Yes, master.”
“Good. You may proceed.”
He stood, slowly working through the mental models to open his gate and allow magic to flow through. He carefully controlled the throughput, ensuring only as much power as he needed came through.
Then, with an act of supreme concentration, he guided the power to the spellform in his left hand.
That hand was contorted to ensure the proper spell lines connected, shaping the spellform to be as he needed.
At the last moment, he brought his right hand over, grasping his bare forearm at the proper location, prompting a nod of approval from his master.
Magic rushed through the spellforms, reaching outward and teasing the matter around him apart. Positively delicate strands of power worked to achieve the goal and to do so before the power ran out, following the explicit guide of the inscriptions. It was ridiculous that he could only do this ten times, but such was the price of magic.
In less than a minute, it was done, and Henri collapsed to the ground, panting and utterly spent.
Still, he’d done it.
The wagon to one side was piled high with manure, and the hay and everything else had remained behind, conserving resources and removing the need to coat the stalls. By the stars, he’d left dust behind.
“There… done…” He practically panted.
“And well done indeed.” He could hear the grin in her tone, even if he couldn’t spare the energy to look at her face.
He grimaced. “So… why did I need to do this? Aren’t I taking a job from some unfortunate mundane.”
“No, there’s plenty of work.” The woman arched an eyebrow. “Besides, you have an incredibly useful understanding of magic, Henri, but it needs to be refined and practiced. ‘All things long to be with their own’ can be useful beyond measure, but before you accidently rip the bones out of patients, making a macabre pile, I need you to gain practice, experience. Do you know why I am well pleased?”
He looked around with a frown, then shook his head. “No?” He glanced toward the pile of manure and suppressed a smile. “Is it because I got my—”
She cleared her throat, cutting him off as she gave him a flat look. “That joke was old the first time. This is the fifteenth.”
“...Fine.”
“Now. I am proud of you because there are dozens of mice and other animals about, yet you didn’t affect them at all. You gathered up all the excrement, regardless of what creature it came from, but left that which was still inside living bodies alone, even those that your power would have been able to easily affect.”
Henri briefly grimaced, remembering the rat from the last barn, the one from the incident that had earned him the four hour study session. When things had started to go wrong, his master had cut off his magic before it could harm anything… but only after that first detonation. “I see.”
She smiled. “Exactly. So, shall we go to the next location?”
He pushed himself to his feet, before bowing. “Yes, master.”
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Comments
Dan
Is it just me or is Henri a poo-mancer?
PatronTurtle
Frontier town. Just need a showdown between two cowboys to fully set the scene
Stephanie Washburn
This was lots of fun. I love all the little perspectives
