Dragoneye Magic Solutions Chapter 2 - The Offer

Xandar awoke late the next day, his unruly hair resembling a bird's nest. The sky was a jumble of gray clouds that looked like dusty little cotton balls. He didn’t feel like getting up. He had no place to go and nothing to do, but his head was throbbing, and his throat felt dry. Reluctantly, Xandar dragged himself out of bed, grumbling about the audacity of mornings.

He stumbled towards the chair where his robes lay in a heap, and as he pulled the gray garment up, a folded note fell out of a hidden pocket. Retrieving it, memories of his conversation with Atli flashed in his mind, momentarily igniting a spark of excitement. However, that excitement was short-lived.

The author of the note prattled on about abjuration, conjuration, transmutation, and enhancement spells. Xandar, having only taken a few courses on the subjects, couldn’t help but admit that he was far from calling himself proficient. His grades in transmutation were nothing to write home about, and he could only cast the most basic of enhancement spells. Not to mention the fact that necromancy still gave him the chills. The note might have piqued his curiosity, but Xandar decided that trying to learn more would only prove to be a waste of time. The mysterious group mentioned in it was probably nothing more than another secret society that wouldn't give a second glance at a recent graduate like himself. Leaving the note perched atop his writing desk, Xandar finished dressing, attempting to tame his wild hair by raking his fingers through it. He left the room, sneaking down the stairs into the kitchen. Just as he managed to make the kettle float in mid-air using a web of fire, he heard Mr. Hamnik's dry, brittle voice calling out:

“Is that you, Xandar?”

"Me and no-one else, Mr. Hamnik. Good morning," Xandar replied, rubbing his bleary eyes.

“Morning indeed!” Mr. Hamnik’s voice crept closer, and soon the little old man emerged from the side door to his workshop. He scrutinized Xandar with his deep-set eyes for a moment, then said:

“A man came asking about you last night, a most important man!” he said, pointing a bony finger towards the ceiling for emphasis.

“What did he want?”

“He had one of your little pamphlets with him, said he had an urgent matter that he needed the help of a wizard with,” Mr. Hamnik divulged. He lifted his finger again, searching his surecoat pocket and producing a note. Adjusting his thin glasses on his elongated, pointed nose, he read:

"He awaits your presence at the Barking Toad Inn this very afternoon, at the stroke of four."

“The Barking Toad?” Xandar frowned. It was a less-than-dazzling establishment in the northern part of town where weary travelers ended up only if the other, bigger, and more popular inns were out of available rooms.

Mr. Hamnik shrugged. “Seems like a pressing matter, my dear boy. Best get a move on!”

Xandar did not feel as enthusiastic, but he resigned himself to the peculiar turn of events. He had nothing better to do and there was no point arguing with the stubborn little man.

"I suppose you're right," Xandar conceded, ready to depart. But before he could leave, a sudden realization struck him. He turned back to the perplexed shoemaker and blurted out, "Wait, how can you tell he was important?"

The question seemed to stun Mr. Hamnik, who promptly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and gave Xandar a look bordering on offense. “Why, his speech, his mannerism, of course. And he wore a tall hat!” A vague memory buzzed at the edge of Xandar’s awareness but he wasn’t sure what it was. He kept trying to remember what was bothering him as he ascended the stairs. He wasn't certain how important the mysterious man really was; not many important people chose to stay at the Barking Toad. However, the message the man had left for him sure was intriguing. He didn't want to get his hopes too high, last night's disappointment still left a sour taste in his mouth, but a strange restlessness had taken hold of him. Xandar fed Alberon, then sat down to sip his tea while leafing through his spell book. He memorized some common spells and then other, more complex ones, believing that with enough repetition, they would eventually imprint themselves on his mind. But he wasn’t able to concentrate for long. There was still plenty of time until four o'clock, the hour of the intriguing meeting, and Xandar didn't want to spend it in his stuffy room. He straightened his robes and even went as far as casting a simple reflection spell on the closet door to inspect his appearance. Xandar washed his face and brushed his hair, which despite being short, had a way of getting tangled, and headed outside.

The Barking Toad was located in the northern part of town, where the wealthy resided. Unlike the crowded city streets, here the houses stood apart instead of huddling together, leaving ample space for neat gardens and meticulously manicured lawns. Stone buildings sprouted sporadically, occasionally surrounded by fences, culminating in a couple of grand mansions at the town's very edge. It was devoid of the clamor of merchants and the quarreling of shoppers, but to Xandar, the silence felt peculiar. The northern part of Rovalia might not have been a hub of excitement, particularly for wide-eyed students or daring adventurers seeking a taste of city life. But nestled in the quiet streets, there were hidden gems too. Xandar was reminded of one of those as he turned a corner. The aroma wafting from Bregna's Buns, a small bakery that specialized in overpriced yet remarkably delectable desserts, carried on the gentle breeze and captivated Xandar as he walked by. It must have been ages since he last paid the fine establishment a visit. Xandar halted and rummaged through his coin pouch. A visit to Bregna’s Buns would cost more than two hearty dinners at the Tipsy Horse or three at the Night Owl, Xandar reminded himself. But it was too late - his feet were already guiding him, as if by their own volition, towards the bakery's entrance.

Bregna emerged from behind the counter as he walked in, balancing a tray laden with freshly baked pastries in her hands. The pastries were still steaming, filling the room with hints of apple and cinnamon. “Two wizards in one day!” she exclaimed upon seeing Xandar, her smile stretching wide, pushing her round, rosy cheeks even higher. “Now there’s a sight you don’t see every day!” Setting aside her thick mittens, she started arranging the baked goods upon a large ceramic plate, each one a masterpiece of sweetness and sophistication. “Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she went on, responding to Xandar’s bewildered look. “I’m just not accustomed to many wizards visiting my shop.” Xandar shifted uncomfortably. “Well, most of the young wizards are students, I suppose, and they prefer whatever is cheaper,” he chuckled. Bregna - who up until then had been casting sideways glances at him, the majority of her attention focused on organizing the pastries for display - stopped, rested her fists on her waist and scanned Xandar from the top of his head to the soles of his boots. “Then must be you’re doing quite well for yourself, young man,” she said with a nod. Xandar opened his mouth, not sure what to say. “Good for you, good for you!” Bregna declared with such determination and enthusiasm that Xandar decided not to spoil her mood by arguing. He ended up purchasing a miniature apple and cinnamon strudels and continued on his way. There was a little grove of trees not far from the bakery, situated almost on the outskirts of town, with a little meadow stretching beyond it. It was a place not frequented by many, and during his days as a student, Xandar liked venturing there with his books to study. That day the grass still retained the moisture from the previous day’s rains mixed with the cool dew of morning. Xandar cast a water summoning spell on a round patch of grass, controlling the flow of energy to prevent it from sapping the moisture out of the soil entirely and letting it last just enough to dry up a comfortable looking circle on the ground. With his miniature cake, spellbook and another two books he had brought along with himself Xandar settled down and began his work. For a few hours Xandar was in another realm, one of currents of energy and their way of manipulating matter in the physical world. He explored the laws that governed them, the constructs that harnessed their power and the structures that prevented them from unleashing complete chaos into the world. They were all subjects he had studied at the university, but he always discovered something new. It was one thing to learn and memorize spells written by others, but true mastery of magic required the ability to create one’s own spells. Understanding the rules was the first step there. There was a shard of crystal in one of the pouches of Xandar’s robes which he used to read the time. He had set an alarm, relying on the quartz pulses, that sounded the most miniature thunderclap when the defined time had elapsed. It struck him as odd that the note demanded his presence at the Barking Toad precisely at four in the afternoon. Time measurement required magic, making it a domain predominantly reserved for wizards, yet even they rarely bothered with it. The man who summoned him to this meeting must have acquired an enchanted time-measuring crystal from a wizard - a possession most individuals deemed as not worth its cost - or was a wizard himself. Xandar decided not dwell on that for too long, assuming that the answers would soon reveal themselves. A thunderclap that sounded like it came from inside a box resonated from the crystal, signaling to Xandar that his studying time was up. Closing his books, he relished the last bites of his strudel while watching the swaying blades of grass. Then he got up and set out towards the Barking Toad. The Barking Toad inn was a short stroll away from the grove, and Xandar made his way through quiet streets where few stores stood, visited by even fewer customers. The streets were noticeably cleaner compared to the bustling center and the southern parts of town, where the market buzzed and the university towered over the rest. Yet despite the pleasant exterior, Xandar felt out of place. The Barking Toad had a green door that always looked like it had just been painted, and window planters, bursting with vibrant flowers and lush green vines. There was nothing inherently wrong with the inn, and that, somehow, was precisely the problem. It was too clean and neat, its owners too nice, the food lacking the greasy allure that most inns took pride in, and the ale so clear one could practically peer through it. Even the name itself stood at odds with the surroundings. It was as if an elderly woman had bought the inn from a worn-out barkeeper and made it into her cozy living room, never bothering to change the sign above the door. Inside, Xandar found the place nearly empty, save for one table at the far end which facilitated two individuals engaged in a spirited discussion. Xandar heard a side door creak open behind him and turned just in time to see a middle aged woman making her way towards him. “Welcome to the Barking Toad,” she greeted him with the warmest of smiles. She wore large, round glasses, and her dark brown hair, lightly streaked with silver, was fashioned into a round bun and sat atop her head like a little beehive. She wore a green dress cluttered with a floral pattern and a white apron, embroidered with rabbits and carrots, covered her attire. Coming out of her mouth, surrounded by all her pleasantness, the inn’s name sounded all the more wrong. “Please, have a seat wherever you like,” she gestured towards the empty hall and guided Xandar to a nearby table. “Would you be interested in some lunch?” she asked once he was settled, “We have a warm meat pie with carrot and potato mash. It’s not only delicious but also quite nutritious!” She chuckled as if it was the height of hilarity. “Thank you, but I’ll just have some tea,” Xandar replied, returning her smile. “Of course! We have a lovely infusion of blackberry and chamomile, would you like that?” she inquired. Xandar was about to ask for some plain black tea instead, but the excitement in her voice suggested that any other choice might unintentionally offend her, so he simply nodded and thanked her. Xandar retrieved the crystal he had been carrying in his pocket and cast a spell to count the number of pulses that ran through it since the latest recorded time for the day. Each day at sunrise a spell intricately woven into the crystal’s core marked the moment and tallied the number of pulses until the next one. The hour was four in the afternoon, precisely as indicated on the note. Xandar stole a quick glance at the table at the end of the hall where the conversation showed no sign of ending and wondered if one of the two men was the mysterious author of the note. Now that he took the time to study them, Xandar realized that one of them was indeed a wizard. It wasn’t the sleep deprived, malnourished and disoriented type one would often find among young students. This man had the demeanor of a seasoned wizard who had apparently learned to control the nervous ticks and quirky mannerisms so typical to the trade. Yet his attire gave him away, not to mention the air of self importance, which was the next phase in the evolution of a wizard who had weathered the perils of the craft. Wizardry was a high risk art, and a mage who had survived to a respectable age without accidentally exploding, teleporting to an unintended realm, depleting their life force with a miscalculated spell, or simply meeting an untimely demise at the hands of an entity that was not happy to be summoned, had every reason to be proud. After a brief moment, a young woman approached Xandar’s table, clad in an outfit strangely similar to the one worn by the older innkeeper, and placed a cup of steaming herbal tea before him. “Is there anything else I could get for you?” she asked, smiling relentlessly. Xandar studied the cup - a dainty round vessel adorned with delicate flowers and leaves. It sat on a saucer of similar design, accompanied by a small cookie which was placed there with what Xandar suspected was the utmost care. “No, that would be all, thank you,” Xandar said, reaching into his pocket, taking out a silver coin which he handed to the girl. “Thank you, I will fetch your change right away,” the girl smiled and was about to turn to leave. “That won’t be necessary, keep it,” Xandar said, feeling uncomfortable. The girl smiled once more, bowed gracefully and departed, leaving Xandar with an inexplicable sense of relief. Without warning, the conversation at the neighboring table seemed to reach a conclusion, prompting the man Xandar presumed to be a wizard to shift his chair. Xandar averted his eyes immediately, not wanting to be caught staring. Out of the corner of his eye he observed both men rise, shake hands, and engage in another short exchange of words, before the wizard left. Xandar redirected his attention to the intricate design on his tea cup, tracing the twisting vines with fascination, and only when the man’s silhouette was out of his field of vision did he cautiously lift his gaze. The man seated at the table across the room was busy writing on a scroll. Once finished, he let the paper roll back to form a tube and shot a smile Xandar’s way. Tentatively, Xandar rose from his seat and made his way over. “Xandar Biergus?” the man inquired when Xandar drew near, unfurling the paper slightly to read from its neatly written lines. “Uh, yes,” Xandar blurted out. The man grinned once more, gesturing towards the vacant chair opposite him. “Pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat,” he invited. Xandar sat down. Even while seated, he could tell that the man was remarkably tall. He had short, thinning hair with hints of silver at the temples and smiled without parting his lips. He was dressed impeccably and as he was sitting down, Xandar noticed a tall hat resting on the chair beside him. “So, Xandar,” the man began, then abruptly cut himself off, “I suppose I should probably introduce myself first, shouldn’t I?” he let out a single bark-like laugh. “I’m Erdrick Havnar, historian,” he declared, “My area of expertise lies in ancient texts, however I came across something I’ve never encountered before and I need the assistance of a wizard - I really good one - to help me translate it.” Something was trying to tug at the wary strings of Xandar’s attention but he could pinpoint its source. There was more to the man than met the eye - granted, he matched Mr. Hamnik’s description - but that was not all. An additional piece of the puzzle was missing. Xandar glanced at the table, noticing only the scroll, a quill, and a bottle of ink - no signs of books or documents. “Oh, I didn’t bring the book with me now, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s quite delicate,” Erdrik answered Xandar’s inquisitive gaze. “How long is this text?” Xandar asked. “It’s a proper book, so,” Erdrick gestured with his hands, indicating the dimensions of a standard tome. “About this thick?” he motioned with his thumb and index finger. “Nothing out of the ordinary, just your typical sized book,” he laughed again, causing his eyes to narrow on his broad, square face. Xandar couldn’t help but think it made him resemble a pig. He paused to think. “I suppose if it were a one-time task, there are plenty of translation spells I could extend to last for hours,” Xandar suggested. “And what if I needed to work on this book for more than a day? What if, let’s say, I wanted to be able to revisit it at any given moment? Or if I were to translate the entire thing? A couple of hours wouldn’t suffice,” Erdrik countered. “In that case..” Xandar began to say, stalling for time, “Then we’re talking about something along the lines of creating a magical object that gives you the ability to read this language. Do you happen to know which language is that, by the way?” “Good question,” Erdrik nodded, “But no, the language is unknown.” “In that case, I would need to start by detecting it, based on the ones spoken in this realm. Then I could create a temporary connection to its core structure - that means enabling you to comprehend it. After that it would be best to bind this spell to some object - crystal rings work best for such purposes. With the ring you could read this book for as long as you want as if it were written in the common tongue. Any book of that same language, for that matter,” Xandar said after a lengthy pause. “Why a crystal?” Erdrick asked, furrowing his brow. “Why not just grant me the ability to understand the language directly?” “Tieing a spell to a person can be a bit tricky,” Xandar said, “Spells need a source of power, and if the source is your life force, it could put you in danger when you use the spell for too long.” Erdrik pondered this for a moment, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his lips, “But couldn’t I just stop using the spell if I felt too weak or tired?” Xandar was not surprised by the question, it was a common misconception, and a smug little smile escaped his lips as he began to explain. “You could, but this spell gives you the ability to translate languages, not just written ones. So if you find yourself in a foreign environment, the spell could work for hours or even days, potentially placing you in a dangerous situation. I could of course limit the spell to written words alone, but even then, people lose themselves in reading and this might have dire consequences for you,” Xandar said. He no longer needed to pause and think, his mind raced and all possible outcomes flashed before his eyes, bright as images. “Alright, so you’re saying a ring is a good solution, but then again, the crystal on the ring might also run out of energy, wouldn’t it?” “If we get a good, new crystal - a white quartz, for instance - you’ll be able to use it for years on end.” Xandar said, then, before he could fully consider his words, he added “I mean, it will run out eventually, but you will run out long before that.” There was a pause as Xandar realized what he had said but the tension did not last much longer as Erdrik broke it with a laugh. That time it sounded a little more genuine. “I didn’t mean to say that-” Xandar began, his words stumbling over each other in an attempt to correct the blunt statement, but Erdrik silenced him with a wave of his hand. “I appreciate you being, err, so frank. No need to apologize,” he said, resting one hand on his chin and resuming the tapping of his finger on his lips. “So you’re suggesting binding the spell to a ring with a crystal,” he said, as if tasting the words as they rolled off his tongue, “But there’s another way, isn’t there? Did you know you could create a power source? You could define when it’s created and when it disappears, and it would draw energy from outside of this plane to fuel the spell. Many wizards are doing that.” Xandar studied the man with growing suspicion. The doubts swirling in his mind were growing and expanding, taking a more concrete form, but he was not ready to voice them yet. It was clear to Xandar that the man was not who he pretended to be. Their conversation was not a simple exchange of ideas either, but a cleverly disguised game of some sort. But Xandar decided that he was content to play his part and see where it would lead. “Interesting that you know that,” Xandar remarked, choosing his words carefully. “It’s a fairly new branch in magic, and yes, many young wizards are tempted to use it, but it’s easy to miscalculate the limits of such power. Failing to close the energy source in time- well, let’s just say that it’s even more dangerous than tying a spell to a person. It sounds impressive, sure, but a simple way is always preferable.” In front of him, Erdrik nodded lightly, reaching for the scroll and unrolling it. Dipping the quill in fresh ink, he scribbled some words on the parchment. Xandar could not discern the exact content but noticed the meticulous handwriting - small, precise and somewhat square. “And did you attend the High Magic university here?” Erdrik asked without taking his eyes off the paper. Xandar assumed that the question was meant to sound conversational, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the man’s tone was too inquisitive. “That’s right,” he said. “Ah, excellent. And when did you graduate?” Erdrik proceeded to ask, briefly lifting his eyes from his notes. “A few months ago,” Xandar replied, forcing himself to maintain a steady gaze. Erdrik raised an eyebrow, and, as an afterthought, jotted down a few more words on the scroll. “I hear nothing but good things about that place,” he said when he was done. Xndar nodded, “I guess it is.” “And it’s fairly new too, isn’t it? But it seems to be on its way to becoming the top university in the kingdom!” “Could be.” “Good library, too, biggest I’ve seen, that’s for sure,” Erdrik continued. “Mhmm.” “I’m pratting on, aren’t I?” Erdrik chuckled, sounding another one of his bark-like laughs, “And you must be wondering why I’m asking all these questions.” Xandar found that sometimes the best way to extract information was not to bother asking the questions in the first place, so he said nothing, waiting. “I owe you an apology, Xandar,” Erdrik confessed, “I’m not really a historian. I see you’re not surprised, but well, you’re a clever guy, you must have figured that out. I practiced wizardry myself, for many years, and now I am looking to assemble a group of highly skilled wizards to work together.” Realization finally dawned on Xandar. The specified meeting time was his first clue, but the other was far more blatant - the name, Erdrik Havnar. Xandar had heard that name before, or more precisely, had read it. “You’re the one who left pamphlets at the university,” Xandar finally said triumphantly, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “You caught me,” Erdrik admitted with a laugh, “I probably should have been more cautious, calling upon you after plastering those pamphlets all around town, eh? But your own pamphlets seemed so serious that I didn’t expect you to be spending your time at the university, I suppose.” “I was doing some research for a job,” Xandar shrugged, seizing the opportunity to ask his own questions. “So is it some kind of a secret society?” “No, nothing of the sort,” Erdrik waved his hand dismissively, “I’ve dabbled in secret societies before, even founded one once. But these groups are all about increasing knowledge and power, and let’s be honest, patting one another’s inflated egos. No, what I am talking about is a profit driven group.” Xandar shifted in his chair, leaning closer. His mind raced as he contemplated the possibilities. It wasn’t unheard of for wizards to collaborate, but those instances were rare and usually reserved for particularly complex and powerful spells. “What spell is it, then?” Xandar asked, no longer bothering to hide his interest. Erdrik leaned back, a gleam in his eye, “Not just one spell. You see, I’ve done all kinds of work - for individuals, adventurers and later for guilds, royals, kings even. You might be a young wizard, but you’re smart, and you must have realized by now that working for the occasional blacksmith or some sword-wielding oaf is not going to fill your pockets. Most folks can’t afford a wizard’s services. It’s the guilds and the royalty who hold the coin, but breaking into their circles isn’t a stroll in the garden, is it? But here’s the thing - I have the connections, the experience, and I know how to talk to those people. I can uncover countless opportunities.” Erdrik paused, his hands suspended in the air, fingers splayed and pointing in all directions. “But I can’t do all this work alone. If I did, I could only focus on one spell at the time. No, I need a solid group at my back, one capable of crafting those spells. Under my guidance, of course.” “Then why would you get involved in the spells? If you can find the work, why not just leave the spellwork to the wizards?” Xandar reasoned. “I could do that, of course, I could leave the spellwork to the wizards and stay out of it. But when I’m dealing with people of high caliber, I am also putting my reputation on the line, I’m giving them my word. That means that I need to be sure they receive only top-notch spells. Besides, I have years of experience, both working alone and as part of the team, I can help orchestrate complex spells and plan the work. All of that leaves you with just one thing to do - crafting spells. No more worrying about how and when the next job will come, or having to argue, bargain or in any way talk to clients. Wouldn’t that be splendid?” Erdrik folded his hands in front of him, fingertips touching, and fixed Xandar with an intense stare. Xandar contemplated the offer for a long moment. It was an idea the likes of which he had never heard before, and naturally, part of him was suspicious. But he couldn’t deny the appeal of the offer. Erdrik spoke the truth - given the chance, Xandar would relish the opportunity to focus solely on what truly captivated him - spellwork. Not longer would he need to waste time dealing with clients who lacked the understanding or appreciation for his craft. He was not sure he could trust the man, but at the moment, with no other prospects on the horizon, Xandar figured he had nothing to lose. “How many wizards will be a part of this.. Group?” he asked. “If you join me, Xandar - and I sincerely hope you do - then we’ll need one more. Although there is work we could already get started on together.” Erdrik said. “What about the other wizard you were talking to before?” Xandar asked. Erdrik shook his head, “He’s book smart, but he lacks the true passion for magic. He doesn’t think like a problem solver. He may be a decent wizard, I’m not saying he can’t, but I want individuals who live and breathe magic, and who can adapt and collaborate effectively with others,” He explained, “I don’t want someone religiously clinging to dusty old knowledge from their university days, hindering the progress of the group.” Xandar nodded, considering the words. “So, that book you needed translated... Was it just a riddle to test my thinking?” he inquired. “It was. Though, if you choose to join me, there is one book that needs translation, though a slightly different one,” Erdrik grinned mischievously, “But that depends on your decision, Xandar, are you in?” Xandar had to admit, the man had a way of sounding convincing. There was something about his gestures, tone, and the overall aura of secrecy - the notion that he would take part in something new and exciting - that made all of Xandar’s concerns evaporate, leaving only excited anticipation. “I am in,” Xandar said, beaming. He expected a hearty handshake or some excited gesture from Erdrik, but the man simply smiled and said: “Very well, then!” and leaned over to the bag resting against the table legs, drawing out a scroll which he handed to Xandar. “Please have a thorough read through this,” he said. “What is it?” Xandar asked. “A contract. Meet me here tomorrow morning with any questions you may have and if all is well, we can begin our work.” Erdrik said. “I suppose I could take a moment to read it now,” Xandar started to say, feeling strangely unsure, but Erdrik raised his hand to stop him. “I prefer you take the time and make sure you are comfortable with everything,” he said, “Besides, I’m booked for the rest of the day, so I might not be available to answer your questions anyway.” And with that their meeting came to an end. They shook hands as Xandar was about to leave, but it seemed to him that Erdrik’s attention was already elsewhere. As Xandar stepped outside, he noticed a figure crossing the street and heading towards the green door. It appeared strangely familiar - a tall and slender figure dressed in black robes, a cloak obscuring its face. From within the cloak’s shadows, gently swaying with each step the figurer took, was a strand of silvery hair.