Bibliomancer ~ 6!

~ Six ~

An opalescent light engulfed Sam, suffusing his body with energy and power, and inside an eyeblink he’d spawned in the square of a massive, medieval city. The breath caught in his throat, eyes bulging as he surveyed the cityscape. The ground underfoot was a bone white mosaic of some complicated geometric pattern and directly at its center was an enormous marble fountain, spraying water into crystal clear air like the spout of some enormous whale. Cobblestone streets branched off from the town square, carving their way between shops sporting peaked roofs and wooden shutters, which were thrown wide in the crispy light of mid-morning.

The city was alive with the hustle and bustle of activity, men and women cutting across the square, the low hum of idle chatter filling the air. Unlike in many of the MMOs he’d played over the years, the residents of this city—whatever this city was—were all human; not a Dwarf, Elf, or Half-Orc to be seen, which Sam thought was a little sad. He hadn’t really considered it during the character creation process, he’d been too overwhelmed by the potential class options, but there had been no race selector option. Which was too bad. He usually played a non-human race just for the sake of doing things a little differently.

Despite the sea of pure humanity however, there was a tremendous amount of variation.

Men and women of every race and ethnicity were present and accounted for, and the sheer variation in gear and appearance almost made up for the lack of other races. There were hulking warriors in heavy armor etched in silver or gold, leather-clad rangers sporting bows on their backs and short swords at the hip, and plain looking folks in linen outfits or the cloth and leather garb of a village peasant. A woman wearing elaborate and colorful petticoats strolled by, a parasol raised above her head, while a mercenary in a canonical helmet and segmented lorica armor skulked off in the opposite direction. Sam squinted at a short man in itchy-looking brown robes—a cleric of some sort, perhaps—and noticed that the man’s face was just a little blurry around the edges.

Huh. Weird. He focused on some of the other passerby and noticed the same thing, just a little blur to each face. The edges and outlines of buildings were just a little fuzzy, too. He’d had glasses his whole life, though these days he wore contacts. It was a weak prescription in the grand scheme of things, and this felt a little like stumbling through the house at night when he forgot to put his glasses on. Doable, but uncomfortable and more than a little inconvenient.

Honestly, he couldn’t believe his weak prescription had followed him through to the other side … Or had it? Then it dawned on him. His low perception. What if his negative score had actually given him bad eyesight, making it genuinely harder to perceive things clearly? That was an interesting thought. Suddenly, he was glad he’d invested those two extra points into Perception; else he likely would’ve been as blind as his grandma Tessa, who couldn’t tell the difference between Sam and a golden retriever at ten feet. Yep, he’d definitely need to get his score up and see if it made a tangible difference.

But there would be time for that later. For now, he was excited to get started on his epic summer vacation. Where to even start, though?

Hands on hips, he took in the square, searching for some kind of prompt, exclamation point free-floating above some NPCs head, or a quest alert which would tell him what to do. Nothing. And there was no clear indication of what way he was supposed to go. As shocking, strange, and down-right intrusive as the test had been, this city was far more jarring in its own way. It wasn’t necessarily the strangeness of the place—because in a lot of ways, it was just the way he’d envisioned it being—but the sheer scope of the place was both daunting and impressive.

“I need to turn up the render distance.” Sam’s face soured at the obvious effect his low stat was having on him. The city was laid out in an orderly grid of streets, shops, and houses, and though he couldn’t see everything, he had to guess that this city was easily big enough to accommodate a population of fifty-thousand or more. Probably a lot more, considering how much of the city he couldn’t see.  

“Hey. You there,” someone called, the voice female and brushed over with a slight cockney accent. Sam turned until he spotted a rather buxom woman with blonde hair worked into a single tight braid, which she had draped over one shoulder.

“Me?” Sam hooked his thumb at his chest while glancing left and right.

“Well who else, love?” She was heading his way, her colorful skirts swishing around her legs as she moved. “Been hollering at ya for a good thirty seconds, I have. You just stood there spinning like a buffoon who’s soft in the head.”

Sam frowned. No that couldn’t be right. He’d heard the gentle hum of conversation, but surely he would’ve noticed someone literally yelling at him for thirty seconds. Unless… his terrible perception was at work again. He sighed, already realizing he’d made a few tactical errors and he’d only just barely started.  

The big woman, now just a handful of feet away, snapped her fingers. “Hello there. Ya just drifted off a bit again, love.”

She frowned then canted her head to one side. “But bless yer little heart, it surely looks like you’re trying, plus you’re new, so I guess I can cut ya some slack. Anywho, welcome to Ardania, capital city of the ‘newly returned to the world’ human Kingdom! Though…”

She paused, scratching at his chin, “New is a bit deceptive, isn’t it then? Been about two hundred years, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam held up his hands to slow her verbal deluge. “Who are you exactly?”

“Why, I’m Kathleen, of course,” she replied as though that should be self-evident. “And you, love, look like a little lost kitten—doesn’t know its nose from its tail. I take it yer one of them travelers, then?”

Sam stood slacked jawed for a moment, then nodded.

“Well ya certainly look the part, poor thing. I’m on my way to the market—need to pick up some turnips for a stew—and I saw ya standing there. Not sure what I can do, but might be I can point ya in the right direction at least. Get ya on yer way, as it were. So what’s yer class then, love?”

“Um, I’m Aeolus Sorcerer. A spellcaster.”

Kathleen snorted and rolled her eyes. “Of course ya are, and I’m the Queen of High Magic.”

She guffawed, fluttered her eyelashes, and dipped him a small curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet ya, high lord magic pants.”

“What?” Sam felt like someone had sucker punched him in the gut. “I don’t understand what’s happening here. You asked me my class and I told you.”

“Aye, ya told me, love. Sorcerer, ya said.” Kathleen rolled her eyes.

“Right. Yes, that’s exactly right. Aeolus Sorcerer,” he reconfirmed, as though she might simply have misheard him the first time around.

This time she full-on laughed at him, clutching her sides. As her bout of mirth subsided, she finally asked. “Are ya havin’ a go at me, love? The only mages in Ardania come from the noble lines, and even they are a mighty rare sight. Why, I don’t rightly reckon I’ve ever actually seen a real spellcaster up close. Now if you’re done having fun at my expense, tell me yer real class and I’ll point ya in the right direction. But try to be quick about it, love, I have errands to run yet today. If you’re a warrior class, it’s the guards you’ll be wanting, and if yer ranger or rogue class, there’s an agility training course over in Westham, not far from the Green Eye Tavern.”

Sam smiled and spread his arms. “I don’t know what to say. I’m a Sorcerer—it’s a mage subclass, I think.”

The grin slowly slipped from her face as she crossed her arms. “Well go on, let’s see a bit of magic then.”

Sam stood slack-jawed for a long beat. He didn’t even know what in the heck to do about that. He felt like the woman, who was obviously a non-player character, or NPC, should just recognize his inherent mage-ness. He hadn’t ever considered the notion that he’d have to prove himself right out of the gate. Was magic in this world really that rare? It seemed unlikely, preposterous almost, but there was no other solution that seemed to fit. Whatever. This was fine. All fine! As a Sorcerer, he had the ability of Instinctual Casting, so in theory he should just be able to execute his Wind Blade spell.

“Alright, I will,” he said, pushing up the sleeves of his robes—wait, he was wearing robes? When had that happened? Gah! This perception thing would be the death of him.

Focus! he scolded himself. Keep your mind on the magic.

Wind Blade did a fair amount of damage, so he wanted to be careful where he unleashed his potentially-deadly spellcraft. Taking aim at an NPC—or even hitting one by accident—could land him in a jail cell before he ever even got playing. He focused on a nearby sign, hanging from a wooden pole which jutted from the side of a stone-fronted building. Aristo-Cut Fine Tailors. Sitting in the glass windows were old-fashioned mannequins decked out in fine silks, lush velvets, and supple leathers. Looked like the kind of store were a rich noble might shop.  

Sam took a deep breath, focusing his intention, and suddenly knowledge bloomed inside his head like a flower unfurling in the springtime sun. Power blazed in his center—his core—and energy surged along his limbs as his hands flew through a complex series of gestures. Sam’s fingers flexed and curled in ways that didn’t seem natural. He felt the power rush out of his outthrust palms, leaving him feeling a just a little empty on the inside… but there was no visible sign of the magic. No blue light or crackling thunder. But Sam knew the spell landed, snice the sign, suspended from the pole by a steel chain, swung as though someone had given it a good smack.

Feeling a surge of pride, he broke out into a smile and rounded on the woman, one hand gesturing toward the slightly swaying sign. “See that. Magic.”

Kathleen cocked an eyebrow, lips pressed into a thin line. “The swaying sign there, love?”

“Yeah,” he said, bobbing his head. “That was me. I made it sway like that.”

“That was the wind, love. Are ya sure you’re not some sort of jester, maybe? Or perhaps ya have an interpretive dance class? Yer jazz hands were rather impressive, I’ll admit.”

Sam felt like he might explode from the shame. “Those weren’t jazz hands, Ma’am. Those were arcane hand gestures, and yes the wind made the sign move, but I made the wind. That’s my class, I’m a wind mage.”

Finally, she sighed and gave him advice, though she sounded utterly skeptical, “Okay, love. You’re a wind mage. Fine. You tell yerself whatever ya like.  Don’t supposed I can talk sense into ya, but if you’re really convinced in yer mind, then it’s the Mage’s College you’ll be wanting. Assuming ya really are a natural mage, you’ll be needing to get registered, which will cost ya some serious gold.”

“But if ya truly have the skill and the coin,” she continued, “ya might just be something special someday. I’ve never been to the College myself, they wouldn’t want a commoner like me slumming around their refined grounds, but it’s far to the East. Big circular tower that ya can’t miss if ya wanted to.” She paused, grasping the end of her braid with one hand and giving it a light tug.

“Yer probably fuzzy in the head, but ya seem like a sweet boy. Here, take this.” She dipped her other hand into a pouch and pulled free a crude paper map of the city. “I’m thinking you’ll be needing it more than me. Good luck, love.”

Kathleen dipped her head a final time, then turned and swished her way down a connecting street, quickly lost to the crowd.

Sam glanced down at the paper, which wasn’t much of a map, though it did give a general overview of the city and marked out some key landmarks, including the College, which was depicted as a long thin tower. As he studied the crude drawing, his first prompt finally appeared.

Quest alert! Baby steps: Travel to the Mage’s College and learn some basic information about using your abilities. Reward: Neophyte’s Robe, Exp: 500. Accept / Decline

Sam accepted without a thought, rolled up the map, and set off toward the east. His first encounter with an Eternium native hadn’t exactly gone off without a hitch, but that was okay. He had a class—and a rare one from the sounds of it—his first quest, and a simple map to help guide the way. Things were looking up and were bound to get better once he figured out what he was doing and how the system worked. It was only a matter of time. Time, at least, was the one thing he had a lot of on his hands. Plus, he was going to go learn a bunch of magic, how freaking cool was that?