Book 1: Chapter 41: A Slight Mishap

Name：A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands Author：
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Book 1: Chapter 41: A Slight Mishap

The human drive for order is evident in our daily lives, from the schedules we keep to the way we organize our physical space. We create rules and regulations to govern our behavior and ensure a stable society.

However, the predictability of order can leave us feeling unfulfilled and stagnant. We crave the unexpected, the chance occurrence that brings excitement and novelty to our existence. Our attraction to coincidence and surprise is an essential aspect of the human experience.

Therefore, while we may strive for order and structure, we must also embrace the beauty of randomness. It is in the unexpected where we find new perspectives and opportunities for growth. In the delicate balance between order and chance, we discover the richness of life.

- The Just Realm by Gideon de Salavia 368 AC.

The setting sun had cast its final rays, painting the sky with gentle hues of red and orange. The streets below were bustling with people eager to conclude their business and head home. Amidst the crowd, I spotted a merchant hurrying down the road, carrying several large packs. Accidentally, he collided with a tall, sturdy woman, and both of them fell to the ground. The bags burst open, and the goods spilled out like a wave. Street urchins, ever the opportunists, swooped in to loot what they could before disappearing into the throng of people. As the vultures made their escape, the merchant raised his fist, hurling a stream of invectives at them while the woman tried to assist him in retrieving the remainder of his possessions.

Perfect, I thought, focusing on the unlucky merchant. I started to cast a spell, carefully enunciating the first syllables of the incantation. The words tasted vile, oily, and spoke of unspeakable things of the void. My human tongue struggled to articulate the otherworldly phrases clearly. As I finished the spell with a dark syllable, a group of gossamer-thin threads, as black as midnight, flew from me toward the merchant. I had cast the spell, Drain. The dark threads attached to the merchant, and I felt a trickle of sinister, yet essential, energy enriching my very being, satiating a hunger I never knew existed. At a primal level, I realized that I was sapping the poor man's life force like a magical vampire.

Did the spell restore Health? I had to find out. I quickly drew a shallow cut across my forearm and winced a little. My skin at first seemed to resist the edge of the blade before I was able to inflict four points of self-harm.

The man was still arguing with the woman and cursing the world in general at his poor fortune, almost frothing at the mouth, really. I continued to watch him and I felt a single point of Health restored. The cut on my arm began to close, and I continued to wait as the spell drained the man's life force, gradually restoring my Health to its full level.

The man looked slightly less animated now, his anger beginning to lose its rough edge as the woman kept apologizing. He shivered, perhaps from the evening chill, and looked around for the source of his discomfort, ignoring the woman's constant apologies. I quickly ducked out of view, fearful that perhaps he had noticed my arcane meddling.

“Hard to miss you flailing about,” he answered, repacking his belongings.

“No... not that sword kata. Yes, I mean sword form. I mean, like, could you tell I was using magic?” I queried, still a little flustered

“Your face. It is a good tell when you are concentrating. Seen it before, too, only twice, when you are waging war on stone and when you are doing your magic... thing,” he said with a simple shrug of his massive shoulders.

With almost impeccable timing, Elwin burst into the room. His cheeks held the rosy hue of too much wine, and a sly grin played upon his lips as he recounted the tale of his exploits. We listened as he wove a tale of charm and subterfuge. According to the Rogue, it was his honeyed words that had won over the skeptical locals and led them to reveal the location of a fence who would buy our appropriated goods at a discounted price. As he finished his story, Elwin removed his leather boots and made his way toward the bed. But before he could climb beneath the covers, he spun around with a flourish and slipped a small, ragged bundle into my waiting arms.

“I remember...the promise I made to tell you what I knew about the arts. The Control,” he burped unceremoniously, and even at a distance, I could smell the reek of cheap alcohol. “Got this on the cheap...damaged goods...but a...like za hat would be too much...” he finished, before falling into bed and snoring, almost instantly.

Upon closer examination, the bundle revealed itself to be a damaged book, devoid of a cover and bound together haphazardly. Holding it gingerly, I could see that it was missing numerous pages, and the ink had bled, rendering parts of it illegible. A book, at last. True, it was flawed, but it contained precious knowledge nonetheless. As I inspected it closer, the first page revealed itself to be inscribed in the local dialect. Fortunately, it was penned in ‘simplified’ Trade, meaning I would not need to expend significant amounts of energy to comprehend its meaning.

Delicately going over the old tome, I was extra careful with my fingers when touching the brittle sections of parchment. Hungrily, I poured over the text, using Identify to reveal the meaning of the parts that eluded or frustrated me. Through magical means, deduction, and inference, I began to establish an idea of the damaged tome’s essence. It was a primer of sorts, for initiates in the study of magic and Mana.

Eager for fresh knowledge, I locked the room’s door and settled into my usual position. Holding the book in my hands as if it were a precious relic, I continued going over the text under the light of a dying candle. Eventually, the candle’s light faded, and I was left in the darkness.

No lanterns adorned the darkened street, and the moon was obscured behind a veil of clouds. The only illumination was that which slipped out from the shutters and doors of the homes and shops that stubbornly refused to call it a day. The city, even at this hour, was still filled with noise as people went about their business. If one listened closely, one could even hear the occasional crack of the whip in the distance, followed by a scream of pain. I shuddered for a moment, in a sympathetic reaction. I shifted a little on my chair and looked out into the evening, trying to enjoy a moment to myself as night fell and my watch began.