When the sun rose Wolf put on his fancy Mage’s robe and went to the place that drunken bum had told him about. The drunkard claimed that it was the merchant group best suited for Wolf’s needs.
The boy was surprised that he actually did come across a humble merchant group by following the instructions that the winey had given him. These people seemed to be in dire straits. They sold tools and rations to Wolf for what seemed like a reasonable price. The boy didn’t even haggle, and straight up agreed to the asking price.
The shipping part on the other hand was a bit troublesome. Unsurprisingly, the clerk had no idea where Oakwood Freeland was, but after Wolf had given detailed instructions the clerk confirmed that the backwater place really was near their usual route.
Seeing that Wolf had money, the clerk charged fifteen silver coins for shipping. After a bit of haggling Wolf got up, smiling as he shook the clerk’s hand.
He had haggled to pay only twelve silver. The clerk also smiled. He could pocket two silver coins, since the shipping was around ten. Everyone was happy and the clerk now knew which random gathering of cabins in the wilderness was called Oakwood Freeland. Not that the man cared about that piece of information…
Wolf was about to leave, when he remembered something. “Right, when does the next caravan leave and do you have a way of keeping contact with your people? I’d like to get news from Oakwood Freeland.”
“Um, Sir, Far Voice costs a lot of money. We are a small group and don’t have…” the clerk started explaining his company’s circumstances, but promised that the caravan would bring back news from Oakwood Freeland.
Huh… Surprisingly, everything that drunken man had said turned out to be true. I should prepare some good food for him. Thinking up to here, Wolf realized that there was a problem. If he was supposed to cook he would need fire, but now he was inside a city. He couldn’t just start a campfire in the middle of a street.
Maybe it’s time to start using things from dad’s ring? Wolf felt uncomfortable with that thought. He knew that inside Archibald’s Ring of Holding were all the cooking utensils he could ever need, as well as some convenient magic-powered appliances, such as the heating surface and icebox.
Wolf went back to the filthy alley and found the drunk passed out on a heap of rubbish. He appeared to have passed out, absolutely pissed. He still clutched that weird oblong wineskin as if his life depended on it. Wolf looked around the alley and found that it had a unique charm. Even the trash strewn about seemed to be especially sloppy when compared with other dumps Wolf had noticed around the city.
Forcing the landscaping of garbage out of his mind, Wolf tried to wake the drunk up several times, but to no avail. Shaking, poking and shouting, nothing could shake the wastrel one bit. In frustration Wolf decided to snatch the wineskin. Before he even touched it the bum opened his bloodshot eyes and looked at Wolf as if the boy had killed his parents. Apparently his life really did depend on the wineskin.
“I tried to wake you up...” After jumping back in fright Wolf mumbled an excuse.
The wasted drunkard took a moment to gather his bearings. He made a throaty sound and then spat out some phlegm. “You make dinner. I’ll sleep a bit more.”
After groggily saying those two short lines, the bum took a long swing from his wineskin. He then shifted around in a smooth, liquid manner reminding Wolf of a dog or a cat rather than a manling. It almost looked like he was searching for the most comfortable patch in the rubbish pile. Once the drunkard had found what he was looking for he passed out and started snoring.
What a strange man. Despite the questions swarming in his head Wolf decided to leave the winey alone.
It wasn’t even noon yet and there was still a long while until it was dinner time. Not knowing what else to do, Wolf decided to practice casting an Eighth Order spell, once again focusing on Repulsion.
Wolf concentrated on trying to understand the chant and to perfectly mimic the hand gestures. Several hours went by in a flash as Wolf diligently trained.
“You’re lacking proper intention, Little brother.” A groggy voice interrupted Wolf’s chant.
The boy scanned his surroundings, but other than the drunkard chugging wine he couldn’t see anyone.
“I beg your pardon?” Wolf asked with a confused expression. The only one that could’ve spoken was the bum.
“It’s only natural for a beggar to beg,” the man croaked while clearing his throat and spitting out yet another semi-sentient piece of phlegm. After standing dazedly for a moment the man took one more swing from the wineskin.
“What I meant to say is could you please explain what you were saying?” Wolf explained politely.
His father had told him more than once that whenever someone has a suggestion you should at least hear them out, assuming you had the time.
“You’re casting a spell meant to keep lifeforms away from a certain place or object. Correct?” The man lowered the wineskin and looked at Wolf in a questioning manner.
Wolf nodded in amazement.
Recognizing a spell someone was casting was not an easy feat. Recognizing something a novice was trying to cast, something that was still flawed, should have been next to impossible, yet this random bum…
“Then tell me, what is it that you are trying to drive away from here? Vermin? Birds? Cats or dogs?” The man downed more wine and stared at Wolf. He appeared to be half asleep and half drunk, with the drunk part trying its best to break the tie.
Wolf ignored the appearance of the one asking the question and instead thought about the question. What am I trying to drive away? It’s kind of like Alarm. Alarm warns me whenever anyone or anything enters its zone, except people I designate. No. That’s not quite right. Alarm ignores bugs. I’m not even sure if it would warn me when a mouse draws near me. But the target is a part of the spell and can’t be changed…
Wolf started thinking along those lines and realized that he had made a fundamental mistake when casting Repulsion. In fact he was probably making the same mistake when casting a wide variety of other spells as well. He simply plowed forward with his strong soul and well developed Mind Palace, when in reality he lacked proper understanding which would have allowed him to make progress through finesse rather than brute force.
Wolf raised his head. He was about to thank the drunkard for pointing out his shortcomings, but the wastrel was loudly snoring while leaning on a brick wall.
This was the second time this bum had helped him, so Wolf decided to make some good dinner. But first he had to try casting Repulsion to keep the bugs away. He muttered the words and made the appropriate mudras. Surprisingly, he found that he had made great progress. He wasn’t quite there yet, but this tip was a real eye opener. In a couple of days he should be able to cast the spell.
He tried to cast it two more times, each time feeling a noticeable improvement. Grinning like an idiot, Wolf was about to retrieve the magical heater when he suddenly froze.
“You can do this,” he whispered with an ugly face.
Then he forced himself to take out the heater from his father’s Ring of Holding. Nothing horrible happened and yet Wolf felt his throat clench as he looked at the smooth slab of black granite.
After taking several deep breaths Wolf slowly retrieved the rest of the things he would need to prepare a meal. He hesitated a bit about taking out the prime ingredients his father kept in an icebox, but then took those out as well. Even though it was preserved by magic, food would eventually spoil. And Wolf knew Archibald would’ve been sad if things he’d worked so hard to prepare went to waste.
Soon enough sizzling and stirring sounds could be heard. Then the sweet aroma of meat and carré sliced vegetables being fried started spreading in the junk filled alley.
As he cooked the chef started crying and it wasn’t from the diced onions.
The drunkard’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. He opened a single eye, lazily taking in the surroundings. Then he swallowed saliva before opening his other eye and slowly getting up. He carefully moved towards the cook, making sure not to disturb the master performing his art. The drunkard observed Wolf for a while and when the food seemed done he finally spoke.
“Little brother, you found what you were looking for. This is my reward, right? Right?” The bum appeared surprisingly sober and hadn’t taken a single swing from the elongated wineskin ever since waking up. He was too busy loudly swallowing and now he anxiously waited for Wolf’s response.
“That’s right. Thanks to you I managed to find those merchants in no time at all. Not just that, everything was just as you said. They even agreed to ship the merchandise I bought from them. I’m very grateful for your help, Big brother.” Wolf smiled brightly as he flattered the drunkard, but that was all the last couple of words were, empty flattery.
The drunkard either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Ah, you’re too kind Little brother. I did this only to fill my belly with food prepared with true passion. Speaking of which, isn’t the food done? How much more do we have to wait?”
“I’ll reheat the soup in a minute. Right now the pan is just hot enough to keep the food at the right temperature and even make it crispy a bit. The thing is I can only prepare one thing at a time, so the soup got cold.” Wolf explained while pointing at the magical heater in front of him.
“Ah, I understand,” the bum said, nodding knowingly. “If only we had three hundred gold coins to buy another one at Lior’s Home Appliances… Then we wouldn’t have to wait so much... Do you have a desert in mind? Something that goes well after the main dish perhaps? You don’t have to worry about wine. I’ve got us covered. You can’t believe how long I’ve waited for a truly passionate chef...”
The drunkard kept yammering on and on. His slur couldn’t be as fast as Glib was when barraging Wolf with words, but instead he seemed to drown Wolf in words spoken in questionable quality.
Meanwhile the soup had finally reached the serving temperature. Wolf took it off the magical device and set the heater’s temperature just right to keep the fried meat and vegetables warm. Once he was done with the menial tasks and served the soup in two bowls Wolf realized that something was off.
He didn’t have much contact with people other than his father, but regular folks shouldn’t know the price of a magical device. Nor should they know specifics about casting an Eighth Order spell for that matter. In the heat of the moment Wolf had failed to notice those anomalies. Now that he regained his emotional and mental balance, he realized that there were a number of oddities about this drunkard.
“Who are you?” Wolf asked with a spoon just before his mouth.
“You should eat it while it’s hot. We can talk once we’re done eating,” the man said clearly while slurping the soup straight from the bowl.
“Right. Talk after eating.” Wolf nodded and then placed a spoonful of soup into his mouth.
After the soup came the stir fried draconic meat and vegetables. Wolf ate with a fork, but a pair of chopsticks appeared in the man’s hand and he used those as utensils. Wolf didn’t see how they got there. The man didn’t have a Ring of Holding and Wolf thought nobody would take the sticks out of the garbage heap.
This whole thing felt surreal to Wolf. “Excuse me Sir, I have to know who you are. I am Wolf Hillman. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Little brother, first of all, I’m no Sir,” the drunkard said without pausing his eating. “Also, beggars and refugees don’t have names. If they had names they wouldn’t be what they are. If you want to call me something, call me South. I came here from down under and you could say I’m a washed up noble of a sorts.
“Now, this is my first decent meal in a long long time. So, can we please chat once we’re done eating? Please?” South was still managing to talk while eating, but it was obvious that he wanted to focus on food, or to avoid Wolf’s questions.
Once he’d cleared his bowl, South licked it clean, then burped loudly and patted his belly in a satisfied manner. “Mmmm! That was a fine meal… Now, what was it that you wanted to know, Little brother?” he asked, then took a long swing from his wineskin.
“Ahhhh! Sorry, I needed that! Do you want to try some?” South asked while shaking the wineskin in Wolf’s general direction.
Wolf shook his head. “Maybe later. Who are you? Why are you acting like a beggar?”
“I could ask you the same thing. With your culinary skill you could easily work in any tavern in this district. Maybe even in the Nobles’ district. So… Who are you? Why are you trying to pass for a beggar?” South threw the question right back at Wolf.
Wolf was stunned by the question. His first thought was None of your business. While the boy struggled for words South laughed loudly.
“I bet you thought something like ‘None of your damn business!’ Am I right or am I right Little brother?”
Wolf wanted to deny it, but before he could, South laughed again. “There are things one doesn’t ask for the sake of both parties involved. Both of us know I can easily ask questions you don’t want to hear, so why are you pushing me?”
He stretched his hand to shake Wolf’s, seeming perfectly sober. “I am South. If you want, I will be your big brother. And you Little brother, you will fix me some nice grub from time to time.”
When the sun rose Wolf put on his fancy Mage’s robe and went to the place that drunken bum had told him about. The drunkard claimed that it was the merchant group best suited for Wolf’s needs.
The boy was surprised that he actually did come across a humble merchant group by following the instructions that the winey had given him. These people seemed to be in dire straits. They sold tools and rations to Wolf for what seemed like a reasonable price. The boy didn’t even haggle, and straight up agreed to the asking price.
The shipping part on the other hand was a bit troublesome. Unsurprisingly, the clerk had no idea where Oakwood Freeland was, but after Wolf had given detailed instructions the clerk confirmed that the backwater place really was near their usual route.
Seeing that Wolf had money, the clerk charged fifteen silver coins for shipping. After a bit of haggling Wolf got up, smiling as he shook the clerk’s hand.
He had haggled to pay only twelve silver. The clerk also smiled. He could pocket two silver coins, since the shipping was around ten. Everyone was happy and the clerk now knew which random gathering of cabins in the wilderness was called Oakwood Freeland. Not that the man cared about that piece of information…
Wolf was about to leave, when he remembered something. “Right, when does the next caravan leave and do you have a way of keeping contact with your people? I’d like to get news from Oakwood Freeland.”
“Um, Sir, Far Voice costs a lot of money. We are a small group and don’t have…” the clerk started explaining his company’s circumstances, but promised that the caravan would bring back news from Oakwood Freeland.
Huh… Surprisingly, everything that drunken man had said turned out to be true. I should prepare some good food for him. Thinking up to here, Wolf realized that there was a problem. If he was supposed to cook he would need fire, but now he was inside a city. He couldn’t just start a campfire in the middle of a street.
Maybe it’s time to start using things from dad’s ring? Wolf felt uncomfortable with that thought. He knew that inside Archibald’s Ring of Holding were all the cooking utensils he could ever need, as well as some convenient magic-powered appliances, such as the heating surface and icebox.
Wolf went back to the filthy alley and found the drunk passed out on a heap of rubbish. He appeared to have passed out, absolutely pissed. He still clutched that weird oblong wineskin as if his life depended on it. Wolf looked around the alley and found that it had a unique charm. Even the trash strewn about seemed to be especially sloppy when compared with other dumps Wolf had noticed around the city.
Forcing the landscaping of garbage out of his mind, Wolf tried to wake the drunk up several times, but to no avail. Shaking, poking and shouting, nothing could shake the wastrel one bit. In frustration Wolf decided to snatch the wineskin. Before he even touched it the bum opened his bloodshot eyes and looked at Wolf as if the boy had killed his parents. Apparently his life really did depend on the wineskin.
“I tried to wake you up...” After jumping back in fright Wolf mumbled an excuse.
The wasted drunkard took a moment to gather his bearings. He made a throaty sound and then spat out some phlegm. “You make dinner. I’ll sleep a bit more.”
After groggily saying those two short lines, the bum took a long swing from his wineskin. He then shifted around in a smooth, liquid manner reminding Wolf of a dog or a cat rather than a manling. It almost looked like he was searching for the most comfortable patch in the rubbish pile. Once the drunkard had found what he was looking for he passed out and started snoring.
What a strange man. Despite the questions swarming in his head Wolf decided to leave the winey alone.
It wasn’t even noon yet and there was still a long while until it was dinner time. Not knowing what else to do, Wolf decided to practice casting an Eighth Order spell, once again focusing on Repulsion.
Wolf concentrated on trying to understand the chant and to perfectly mimic the hand gestures. Several hours went by in a flash as Wolf diligently trained.
“You’re lacking proper intention, Little brother.” A groggy voice interrupted Wolf’s chant.
The boy scanned his surroundings, but other than the drunkard chugging wine he couldn’t see anyone.
“I beg your pardon?” Wolf asked with a confused expression. The only one that could’ve spoken was the bum.
“It’s only natural for a beggar to beg,” the man croaked while clearing his throat and spitting out yet another semi-sentient piece of phlegm. After standing dazedly for a moment the man took one more swing from the wineskin.
“What I meant to say is could you please explain what you were saying?” Wolf explained politely.
His father had told him more than once that whenever someone has a suggestion you should at least hear them out, assuming you had the time.
“You’re casting a spell meant to keep lifeforms away from a certain place or object. Correct?” The man lowered the wineskin and looked at Wolf in a questioning manner.
Wolf nodded in amazement.
Recognizing a spell someone was casting was not an easy feat. Recognizing something a novice was trying to cast, something that was still flawed, should have been next to impossible, yet this random bum…
“Then tell me, what is it that you are trying to drive away from here? Vermin? Birds? Cats or dogs?” The man downed more wine and stared at Wolf. He appeared to be half asleep and half drunk, with the drunk part trying its best to break the tie.
Wolf ignored the appearance of the one asking the question and instead thought about the question. What am I trying to drive away? It’s kind of like Alarm. Alarm warns me whenever anyone or anything enters its zone, except people I designate. No. That’s not quite right. Alarm ignores bugs. I’m not even sure if it would warn me when a mouse draws near me. But the target is a part of the spell and can’t be changed…
Wolf started thinking along those lines and realized that he had made a fundamental mistake when casting Repulsion. In fact he was probably making the same mistake when casting a wide variety of other spells as well. He simply plowed forward with his strong soul and well developed Mind Palace, when in reality he lacked proper understanding which would have allowed him to make progress through finesse rather than brute force.
Wolf raised his head. He was about to thank the drunkard for pointing out his shortcomings, but the wastrel was loudly snoring while leaning on a brick wall.
This was the second time this bum had helped him, so Wolf decided to make some good dinner. But first he had to try casting Repulsion to keep the bugs away. He muttered the words and made the appropriate mudras. Surprisingly, he found that he had made great progress. He wasn’t quite there yet, but this tip was a real eye opener. In a couple of days he should be able to cast the spell.
He tried to cast it two more times, each time feeling a noticeable improvement. Grinning like an idiot, Wolf was about to retrieve the magical heater when he suddenly froze.
“You can do this,” he whispered with an ugly face.
Then he forced himself to take out the heater from his father’s Ring of Holding. Nothing horrible happened and yet Wolf felt his throat clench as he looked at the smooth slab of black granite.
After taking several deep breaths Wolf slowly retrieved the rest of the things he would need to prepare a meal. He hesitated a bit about taking out the prime ingredients his father kept in an icebox, but then took those out as well. Even though it was preserved by magic, food would eventually spoil. And Wolf knew Archibald would’ve been sad if things he’d worked so hard to prepare went to waste.
Soon enough sizzling and stirring sounds could be heard. Then the sweet aroma of meat and carré sliced vegetables being fried started spreading in the junk filled alley.
As he cooked the chef started crying and it wasn’t from the diced onions.
The drunkard’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. He opened a single eye, lazily taking in the surroundings. Then he swallowed saliva before opening his other eye and slowly getting up. He carefully moved towards the cook, making sure not to disturb the master performing his art. The drunkard observed Wolf for a while and when the food seemed done he finally spoke.
“Little brother, you found what you were looking for. This is my reward, right? Right?” The bum appeared surprisingly sober and hadn’t taken a single swing from the elongated wineskin ever since waking up. He was too busy loudly swallowing and now he anxiously waited for Wolf’s response.
“That’s right. Thanks to you I managed to find those merchants in no time at all. Not just that, everything was just as you said. They even agreed to ship the merchandise I bought from them. I’m very grateful for your help, Big brother.” Wolf smiled brightly as he flattered the drunkard, but that was all the last couple of words were, empty flattery.
The drunkard either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Ah, you’re too kind Little brother. I did this only to fill my belly with food prepared with true passion. Speaking of which, isn’t the food done? How much more do we have to wait?”
“I’ll reheat the soup in a minute. Right now the pan is just hot enough to keep the food at the right temperature and even make it crispy a bit. The thing is I can only prepare one thing at a time, so the soup got cold.” Wolf explained while pointing at the magical heater in front of him.
“Ah, I understand,” the bum said, nodding knowingly. “If only we had three hundred gold coins to buy another one at Lior’s Home Appliances… Then we wouldn’t have to wait so much... Do you have a desert in mind? Something that goes well after the main dish perhaps? You don’t have to worry about wine. I’ve got us covered. You can’t believe how long I’ve waited for a truly passionate chef...”
The drunkard kept yammering on and on. His slur couldn’t be as fast as Glib was when barraging Wolf with words, but instead he seemed to drown Wolf in words spoken in questionable quality.
Meanwhile the soup had finally reached the serving temperature. Wolf took it off the magical device and set the heater’s temperature just right to keep the fried meat and vegetables warm. Once he was done with the menial tasks and served the soup in two bowls Wolf realized that something was off.
He didn’t have much contact with people other than his father, but regular folks shouldn’t know the price of a magical device. Nor should they know specifics about casting an Eighth Order spell for that matter. In the heat of the moment Wolf had failed to notice those anomalies. Now that he regained his emotional and mental balance, he realized that there were a number of oddities about this drunkard.
“Who are you?” Wolf asked with a spoon just before his mouth.
“You should eat it while it’s hot. We can talk once we’re done eating,” the man said clearly while slurping the soup straight from the bowl.
“Right. Talk after eating.” Wolf nodded and then placed a spoonful of soup into his mouth.
After the soup came the stir fried draconic meat and vegetables. Wolf ate with a fork, but a pair of chopsticks appeared in the man’s hand and he used those as utensils. Wolf didn’t see how they got there. The man didn’t have a Ring of Holding and Wolf thought nobody would take the sticks out of the garbage heap.
This whole thing felt surreal to Wolf. “Excuse me Sir, I have to know who you are. I am Wolf Hillman. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Little brother, first of all, I’m no Sir,” the drunkard said without pausing his eating. “Also, beggars and refugees don’t have names. If they had names they wouldn’t be what they are. If you want to call me something, call me South. I came here from down under and you could say I’m a washed up noble of a sorts.
“Now, this is my first decent meal in a long long time. So, can we please chat once we’re done eating? Please?” South was still managing to talk while eating, but it was obvious that he wanted to focus on food, or to avoid Wolf’s questions.
Once he’d cleared his bowl, South licked it clean, then burped loudly and patted his belly in a satisfied manner. “Mmmm! That was a fine meal… Now, what was it that you wanted to know, Little brother?” he asked, then took a long swing from his wineskin.
“Ahhhh! Sorry, I needed that! Do you want to try some?” South asked while shaking the wineskin in Wolf’s general direction.
Wolf shook his head. “Maybe later. Who are you? Why are you acting like a beggar?”
“I could ask you the same thing. With your culinary skill you could easily work in any tavern in this district. Maybe even in the Nobles’ district. So… Who are you? Why are you trying to pass for a beggar?” South threw the question right back at Wolf.
Wolf was stunned by the question. His first thought was None of your business. While the boy struggled for words South laughed loudly.
“I bet you thought something like ‘None of your damn business!’ Am I right or am I right Little brother?”
Wolf wanted to deny it, but before he could, South laughed again. “There are things one doesn’t ask for the sake of both parties involved. Both of us know I can easily ask questions you don’t want to hear, so why are you pushing me?”
He stretched his hand to shake Wolf’s, seeming perfectly sober. “I am South. If you want, I will be your big brother. And you Little brother, you will fix me some nice grub from time to time.”
