Chapter 58: The Measure of a Mage

Chapter 58: The Measure of a Mage

Truth had learned his lesson the night before- he drove directly to the highway and stayed on the highway. He still couldn't read the signs but figured “Generally North-East” was manageable. And the numbers were the same, so B8 should be pretty recognizable, right?

He had himself convinced for all of four seconds. “Thrush, do you know which way leads to the B8 Road?”

“I do not, Master.”

“Do you know what the sign for the B8 road looks like?”

“I do, Master.”

“When you see a sign pointing me towards that road, guide me to it.”This chapter made its debut appearance via N0v3lB1n.

“As you wish.”

He wished. And gunned it. So far, the sights were oppressively generic. It was somewhat disappointing. The city didn’t look all that much like Harban, of course. Much grimier, much less modern. Much more worn-looking. But the aesthetic was kind of similar. All tall towers, wealth, and blandness increasing in direct proportion. Oh, there was the occasional burst of color, like the building with the hundred-foot-tall monkey made of green and purple fire climbing all over it, but it was the exception. And aside from the monkey, the building was kind of crap.

Truth shook his head and pushed on. After about half an hour, Thrush directed him to an exit ramp, and things immediately improved. The road shrank, for one thing. Instead of six lanes, it was now two. The buildings shrank from sixty stories to four. And everything, everything got more colorful.

The first thing he noticed was the flowering trees and bushes. They reminded him of Chil Perdermo, how they seemed to escape from every crack and crevice in the pavement. The flowers were vibrant pom-poms in tangerine, magenta, coral, and gold. Then a palm tree, tan trunk running straight up to vibrant green fronds.

Next to the palm was a little three-story building painted blue, a balcony running along the second floor, paint missing in chunks. Apartments, perhaps? On the ground level was a bus company, and next to that, a shop selling balls and belts and little geegaws and bottles of water, juice, and sodas. Bags of snacks piled up next to clear plastic bags of cut fruit. Then it was gone, the next wonder opening up before him.

It was liberating, knowing he could go anywhere and do anything. It was suffocating too. He wasn’t used to operating without direction. Ever since his enlistment, he found strict direction reassuring. Now, there was nothing. He was picking the destination, the route, the... everything.

He cruised past some hotels that, inexplicably, had roofs made of densely packed straw, then there was a gap between the buildings and a beach stretched out alongside the road. Brilliant golden sands stretching out to brilliant crystal blue-green water.

Was this what the beach at Okepuela looked like? He never got to see it. The stories of the beach party were epic. Did this beach have parties? With all the hotels nearby, of course they did. Should he stop and go for a swim? Nah, he hadn’t even left the city limits. No time to stop now.

He sped on down the road, the buildings becoming further apart and cheaper. He could see corrugated steel roofs that had managed to warp and fray at the edges, like roofs of ruffled brown fabric. Everyone was armed, he noticed. Not happy looking. But not miserable either. A shirtless man was pulling a wheeled cart larger than himself, filled with palm fronds and broken branches. A landscaper, perhaps? Or someone paid to haul away rubbish?

What he wasn’t seeing was a lot of magic. It was still there, of course. Something had to drive the buses and light the shops. But casual magic usage was much less. It must be a side effect of there being no universal spell. Only the most basic magical devices, things kids could use, were available.

Gardens? Gardening?

All fine. As are florists, vineyards, orchards, and even fish farms. It seems to be specifically dirt farms and specifically those who farm in dirt farms. Eh... maybe resentment? Frustration? That might be a more accurate word.

This led to another long pause.

Have you ever seen a farm before today?

Not that I know of. Maybe? That abandoned building with the well was a farm once, right?

There was an even longer pause.

You are such a fucking weirdo. And the System refused to say another word.

Truth dropped it and tried to focus on what he saw around him.

A couple of developments jutted out like giant rectangles of salt. They looked like some vast alien force (probably not the Shattervoid Clan) had picked up a block of homes from inside the suburbs and dropped them in a field. Not a great look, in his opinion.

Speaking of the Shattervoid clan, there were no signs of food riots or the apocalyptic collapse of society. Guess the cover-up worked. Not sure how they silenced the opposition on the op because clearly, more people were in on it than just the mages on the ground. Kind of a weird thought- “Yay! My murderers succeeded! Now my family is safe-ish!”

He tried to drive the thought out of his head. The countryside looked strange to him. Intense, lush green, but the dirt looked kind of crummy. Red, loose, dusty. Like it was ready to fly away at any moment. It wasn’t too dusty on the road, but not great either.

Around sunset, he reached the Kwa Kabwere Garage. Well, he thought it was, he was still picking out individual letters, and the signs all said he had just crossed into Anat River County. So. Probably. The barbecue pit was still there, locals coming up in a steady stream and collecting sausages, bits of roast fish, grilled chicken, goat, and some kind of vegetables... it smelled incredible. He hopped off the iron horse, practically floating towards the grill.

“Ah, the @@@@! You $#* fix?” A man in overalls swooped in, hovering over Truth’s trusty mechanical steed. It took Truth a minute to figure out what he was talking about, but slowly and with much pantomime, it was revealed that the man could put a seat that more or less worked in place, as well as mount a rack on the rear of the two-wheeler that would make lashing down his meager supplies much more practical. The existing rack was... not the best. Truth got the price, figured he had enough to cover it, and nodded. The bike was wheeled off, and he was promised it again in the morning. Truth kept the supplies with him.

He got the grilled chicken and the goat. He was so hungry he had to have both. He figured with that, the fruit and cold water out of the chest by the grill, he would be all set. Truth was absolutely right about that.

The spices... he didn’t even know what they were, but they were incredible. Mild and savory on the chicken, fiery and domineering on the goat. Mingling with the fat to coat the inside of his mouth. The fruit was sour with a hint of sweet, bright, almost herbal, cutting through the fat of the meat. The combination made him rock back and drum his feet against the ground with happiness.

His bed that night was a convenient stretch of scrub, wrapped in a bit of tarp and with his shoes for a pillow. The stars were bright above him. Before he slept, he did his cultivation. The heavenly light poured down into him, filling him. Reminding him that, whatever else he was, he was alive. He was part of something... so much greater than himself. But he was himself. A tiny, self-aware fragment of the incredible vastness. A mage, taking ownership of his little speck of self.

Truth smiled at the thought. Yes, taking ownership of himself. A happy little shiver ran through him. Level Three was only days away.