Aether’s Blessing (Aether’s Revival Book 1)
Aether’s Blessing: Chapter 9

Days passed by as they travelled from village to village. Bishop fed him more bane wolf on the road between villages, to keep them moving faster. No more magi were blessed, but there were not any more deaths, either.

The sun was sinking toward the horizon when the walls of Tolkin came into view. Bishop slowed to a walk, with Gregory following suit. Bishop sighed and stretched. “I’ve been looking forward to a real bath.”

“Real bath, Proctor?” Gregory asked.

“You’ve only ever had hip baths, right?” Bishop asked. “I hope every year that the villages get a little more advanced than they were the year before. Yes, a real bath and more. This one is special. A maid cleans you, then rubs you down with oil. I wonder if she still works at the inn…” She trailed off, smiling slightly at her thoughts.

“What of the ritual, Proctor?” Gregory asked.

“Every town and all the cities have a magus stationed in them. The new magi from them have already moved to the academy to get settled before the new year starts. You’ll have a week at most to get settled, while others have been there for weeks or months, making alliances and learning how things work. Your home is in the cluster of villages that I visit last every year.”

A single man in leather leaned against the wall next to the large gate, a pike propped against his shoulder. As they drew closer, the guard stood to attention. Bishop snorted, but did not speak as she walked past him.

“Do all the towns have guards and walls, Proctor?” Gregory asked.

“Yes. The villages should, too, but no one wants to pay for it,” Bishop shrugged.

“But why do the towns and cities need them, Proctor?”

“Because bane beasts aren’t always small, and sometimes because people don’t think of the good of the empire, but only of themselves.”

Gregory wondered what that really meant, but instead of asking, he turned his attention to the town. The buildings were much closer together than he was used to seeing, and the city itself did not smell like any of the villages they had gone through. He looked around with a frown when he realized that he had not seen any place for waste to be deposited in the town.

“There it is, the Proctor’s Rest,” Bishop smiled when a three-story building came into view. “We stay there tonight. Tomorrow, we will be taking a carriage to Kedlin City. That will be four days and a number of stops. We might be joined by another novice or two on the way.”

Bishop led him inside and Gregory’s eyes widened as he took in the interior of the inn. The place gleamed; lanterns hung from chains above the room, their bright light illuminating everything inside clearly. A plump matronly woman stood behind the bar, while two younger women moved from table to table, serving the guests.

“Samantha, done for the year?” the matron smiled when Bishop entered the room.

“Done, indeed,” Bishop replied.

“You actually have one this year,” the matron said, eyeing Gregory up and down. “A bit on the scrawny side. I’ll do what I can to fatten him up before you take him away.”

“I doubt you can, but you may try,” Bishop laughed. “Is Lauren still here?”

“Of course. We were thinking you’d be in tonight. I’ll arrange to have her ready when you finish dinner.”

“We’ll drop our things and come back down. Have Lauren ready to bathe me.” Lips twisting into a smirk, she leaned in toward the matron, “Have Jess bathe the novice.”

A booming belly laugh came from the matron, “Oh, up to your tricks again? Fine, fine. They have to learn sometime, and my girls are clean, at least.” Slapping a bell on the counter, the matron waited a moment for a young boy to come out of the back room. “Rooms three and four, Gino.”

“Yes, Mama,” the young boy said, then turned and bowed to Bishop. “Please, Proctor, follow me.”

“Lead us,” Bishop smiled at the young man. “How have you been, Gino?”

“Well. Mama thinks I’m ready to study at the hall.”

“Ten more years and you’ll be going through the ritual,” Bishop sighed. “Time flies. The hall will do wonders for you. If you are blessed, your learning will make the first year much easier. The one behind me hasn’t had that luxury, and will have a harder time because of it.”

Gino glanced at Gregory and bowed his head. “I hope you are able to overcome that hardship, Novice.”

“I have had schooling,” Gregory said with a frown.

“A single teacher in a small room isn’t learning,” Bishop corrected him. “What did you know of magi before I told you what I could?”

Gregory lapsed into silence, and Gino shook his head. “He should replace a woman who will care for him.”

Bishop snickered, “Listening to your mother’s advice, I see.”

“Mama is smart,” Gino said with a pout. “Not many could run this place as well as she does.”

“That is true, Gino,” Bishop admitted as they reached the second floor. “She has held onto this place despite some very nasty problems. I have met few who can out stubborn her.”

“Mama says she would have lost everything if not for you,” Gino said shyly. “Said I should grow up big and strong to court you.”

Bishop laughed as she stopped before the door with a three carved into it. “That sounds like her.” Turning, she bent at the waist to speak on Gino’s level, “Tell her that you are cute, but that it will not happen. Unless you are magi, it would never work out, and she knows that. Now go. The novice can replace his room from here.”

“Yes, Proctor,” Gino said, and rushed down the stairs.

“Store your things, wipe the road dust off, and meet me downstairs for food,” Bishop told him before she went inside her room.

Gregory bowed to her and walked into the next room. A bed, large enough for two to use comfortably, sat in one corner. A table and two padded chairs took up the middle of the room. The window was not wooden shutters like he was used to, but glass with curtains. A shelf ran under it, and a basin, pitcher, and small cloth were on it. An armoire stood against the wall near the door, and there was still plenty of room to move around.

“So much space,” Gregory muttered.

He set his bag inside the armoire, then went to the pitcher. Clean water was waiting for him. Shaking his head, he poured some into the basin and quickly washed his face and hands. He used the cloth to dab at the worst stains on his tunic and pants, and gave his boots a fast wipe down.

When he was finished, he went downstairs and found Bishop at a table near the cold fireplace. The table was larger than needed for just two of them. Gregory had barely been seated when a maid was there with glasses full of some clear, crystalline liquid that Gregory had never seen before.

“Your meal will be right out, Proctor,” the maid said, moving away without pausing.

“At high sun, the carriage will be here for us. Do not be late for it. Until then, your time is your own. Your food and drink here are paid for by me, so feel free to enjoy yourself one last time. Did you have any questions?”

“Will we be stopping at any other towns and cities on the way, Proctor?”

“Yes, but we will be stopping for the night only. When the sun rises, we will be traveling again.”

“What would you suggest I see or do before we leave?” Gregory asked.

Bishop smiled, “A good question, Novice, but I can’t give you advice.”

Gregory silently thought for a while before he came up with another question. “What would you tell a younger you to see or do before leaving?”

“A better question. I would have told me to see the scrivener and ask about scrolls useful for novices. Picking up a short blade, long enough for defense but not long enough to be viewed as a weapon only, would have been a good idea. Telling me to savor the food and drink would have been good, too.”

“Where are the scrivener and smith located, Proctor?”

“The scrivener is a block north of the square. The smith is two squares east from there,” Bishop replied, her eyes going past him. “Here comes our dinner.”

“Your meal, Proctor,” the maid said, serving Bishop first.

The platter held a layer of finely sliced vegetables topped with what looked like most of some sort of bird. Gregory’s platter was similar, but with less meat.

“Bane duck, with elixir-laced vegetables,” Bishop sighed. “Nomia takes such good care of me when I stop here. Thank her for me.”

“Of course, Proctor,” the maid bowed before leaving them.

“Is this food dangerous for me?” Gregory asked.

“No. Nomia’s cook is skilled. They have to be, since I visit. The meal will fill you to your breaking point, so eat slowly and let your aether process it. Savor it, in other words. Same with the wine; sip it slowly.”

Gregory’s eyes widened after taking a small sip of the wine, “What is this made from?”

“Rosem. The berries must be picked just before they fully ripen. If they are picked late, the whole barrel will spoil. Rosem wine is good for helping the body process aether from bane beasts. Now eat.”

The moment the first bite hit his tongue, a shock of energy raced into him as the meat dissolved, leaving a hint of orange that quickly faded. Eyes wide, he speared some vegetables and ate them too. The shock of energy faded and a lighter orange flavor lingered. The aether inside him perked up without becoming active.

“This is similar to what you will receive in the academy… well, it’s technically a bit better than a novice gets, honestly,” Bishop said after swallowing. “Slowly, savoring it… that is the best way to enjoy this meal.” She smiled, eating with a languid happiness.

Gregory did his best to eat as slowly as Bishop did, but it was hard because his aether was eager to have more of the feast.

The meal passed with a slow deliberateness that Gregory was not used to. By the time he finished, his aether felt full to bursting. Bishop pushed her chair back, “I’m off to use the bath. It’ll be an hour, and then your turn will come. If you are going out, be sure to be back by then.”

Finishing the last of the wine, Gregory watched her go. Should I head to the scrivener first, or the smith? After a moment’s thought, he decided to visit the smith. He wanted to get a set of utensils, in case they were not supplied at the academy.

When he left the inn, Gregory saw that the streets were busier and the sky was starting to redden as the sun slid behind the horizon. He knew he was acting like an idiot, but he could not help but stare at the different clothes and buildings as he went by.

It took him five minutes to walk to the next square, passing a handful of other streets as he went. He had to pause as a group of men in dark red livery embroidered with flames marched past him.

“Wonder who they are?” Gregory muttered when he was able to cross the street.

“That was the resident magi’s men,” a stranger said, having overheard him and walking the same way. “New to town?”

“Yes. I’m passing through.”

“Don’t get on the bad side of them and you’ll be fine,” the man chuckled before turning down another street. “Good day.”

“Good day,” Gregory replied as he passed the scrivener shop. Smith first, but at least I know where this place is now. Seeing the sun sinking even lower, he hurried his pace, not wanting to miss his chance.

As he hurried down the street, several people watched him with various degrees of interest. Three men started to follow him, evil intent in their eyes.

“Fringe dweller,” one of them chuckled to the other. “Not that he’ll have much, but easy pickin’s.”

“Maybe,” the second one snorted. “We’ll at least have some fun hurting him.”

When he reached the smithy, Gregory saw a man stepping out of the smaller building attached to the house. The man saw his hopeful expressions and snorted. “I just closed for the night.”

“Sir, I’m a novice on my way to the academy,” Gregory said. “I was hoping to buy a few items to make things easier for myself.”

“Who brought you in?”

“Proctor Bishop.”

A soft smile touched the man’s lips, “Still doing the fringe walk, is she? I swear she enjoys it. I owe her a favor or two, so I’ll help you.” Turning back to the building, he pushed the doors open. “Come in.”

Following the smith into the shop, Gregory waited while the man got a lantern lit. The reflective surfaces inside it focused the light on the counter. Behind the counter was a closed door, while the walls near the door had blades displayed on them.

“What are you looking for?”

“A short blade. Long enough to defend, but small enough to be viewed as a utility or dinner knife, and a set of utensils.”

“I see you asked her the right questions,” the smith chuckled. It took him a moment, but he retrieved a blade with six inches of steel above the hilt. The leather was plain, but finely stitched, and the blade shone, clearly indicating good steel masterfully forged.

“This is better work than I’ve ever seen,” Gregory said in awe as he examined the blade.

“What village are you from?”

“Alturis.”

“The ore for this blade came from there,” the smith chuckled. “Good mine in that village. Not many impurities for me to work out. This blade is five hundred vela.”

Gregory inhaled sharply before setting the blade down. “It is masterful work, but I can’t afford that price.”

“I don’t barter,” the smith said, “though considering your origin and who brought you, I will discount it to four hundred.”

Gregory sighed, but he knew that he would need this blade from the hints Bishop had dropped over the last week. Pulling out the five hundred vela coin that Gunnar had slipped him, he set it on the counter.

The smith did not touch the coin, giving it a hard look. “Not many fringers have vela in that denomination.”

“It was earned by slaying a bane wolf,” Gregory replied matter-of-factly.

Eyebrows raised in surprise, the smith grunted, “A bold claim, but not one I’d expect you to idly bring up, which means this is part of the bounty.”

“Proctor Bishop killed the beast and took the majority of it,” Gregory said respectfully. “Those of us involved were surprised to get any coin.”

“As you should be,” the smith chuckled. “Any other proctor would have kept the entire bounty.” He finally picked the coin up, handing Gregory two other coins in return. The new coins held the traditional holes in the middle denoting them as fifty vela each. “Was that all?”

“Bronze cutlery?” Gregory asked.

“Want to hide some of your origin?” the smith nodded. “A wise move. You should replace your boots, too. Let me get those utensils for you— fifty vela.”

Gregory placed one of the new coins back on the counter, taking the cutlery in return. “Sir, would you be interested in buying this old blade?” Gregory asked. He knew that his old knife would mark him as out of place with its warped antler handle.

Examining it for a moment, the smith shook his head, “Not worth it, sorry.”

“Very well,” Gregory sighed, knowing it was not anywhere near as good as the blade he had just purchased.

The smith saw Gregory out before locking up again. As he turned toward his home, the smith caught sight of the two men following Gregory and sighed. After a moment’s hesitation, he passed his house and headed up the street.

Gregory made his way back toward the scrivener’s shop, hopeful it was still open. Halfway there, a small child stumbled out an alley in front of him, crying.

“Momma,” the child sobbed, grabbing Gregory, “help Momma! Please.” The small child tried to tug him toward the alley. “Please… help.”

Gregory felt a pang, thinking of his own mother, and let the child guide him into the alley. As they reached the halfway point, the child let go of his sleeve and took off running. A man with a nasty smile stepped out, blocking the way as the child ran past him. Gregory looked behind to see two more, clubs in hand as they moved toward him.

“Give us what we want and no one gets hurt,” the man in front said with a leer as he began to advance.

Pulling his old blade, Gregory did his best to sound convincing, “I’m a magi. Walk away, or else.”

The larger man laughed, “Tell us another one, rube.”

His aether churning in his chest, Gregory’s hand tightened on the blade. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Tough. We want to hurt you,” one of the men behind him laughed.

Fear crashed against him, but the burning aether pushed it away. Gregory felt a sense of calm envelop him. “Fine. I bet you’re easier than a bane wolf.”

Not waiting for the muggers to make their next move, he leapt at the big man. The mugger was surprised that the scrawny fringer attacked, but he pulled a cosh from behind him and deflected the blade.

“Eh, bunny has teeth, does he?” the mugger laughed and shoved Gregory back. “I’ll enjoy this even more now.”

The sound of feet rushing toward him from behind should have made Gregory worry, but he did not panic. The warmth of the aether in his chest soothed him. Bringing the blade up, he attacked the big man again. Aether flared inside him as his blade came down. The mugger went to deflect it again, laughing.

The laughter cut off abruptly when Gregory’s blade cut cleanly through the cosh and lodged in the big man’s chest. Gurgling, he clutched at the hilt and Gregory let it go, just as surprised at what had happened.

“Henrich!” one of the muggers shouted.

That was enough to snap Gregory out of his shock. He bolted past the dying man and out onto the street. Not pausing, he hurried away just as the sound of whistles started to blow behind him.

He ran the entire way back to the inn. Gasping as he stumbled into the tap room, he looked back along the street. There was no one chasing him.

“Is everything alright?” the matron asked from behind the bar.

“Yes…” Gregory managed after a moment. “Sorry.” Keeping his head down, he hurried up to his room.

Gregory collapsed onto his bed, his aether churning inside him and making him feel ill. What do I do? I killed him and ran. The whistles must have been the guard. Do I tell Bishop?

A knock on his door made Gregory groan. Pushing himself to his feet, he winced at the tightening of his gut. A couple of unsteady steps brought him to the door and he opened it. Instead of her usual uniform, Bishop was wearing a robe, cinched tightly at the waist. Her hair was still damp, and Gregory figured her bath had just ended. “Yes, Proctor?”

“Let me in so we can talk.”

Gregory held the door open for her, then staggered back to his bed. Collapsing onto it, he wheezed, his gut churning harder and faster.

“Did you use your aether?” Bishop asked.

“Didn’t mean to, but yes,” Gregory grunted.

“Tell me what happened,” Bishop commanded as she moved over to the bed and began to gently prod him.

Gregory told her what had happened between hisses of pain as she prodded his gut. “I was about to come tell you, but you came to me first.”

“It’ll settle down shortly. You didn’t do any damage to your core as far as I can tell, lucky for you. It is hard to control without training. I’m surprised you managed to escape unharmed.”

“How did I cut through his weapon?”

“Aether can do many things. Using it without training can possibly damage your core, so try to refrain from using it without a trained magi nearby until you learn how to control it.”

“I will do my best, Proctor.”

“Rest. Your bath will be soon. Do not fight the maid and do what she tells you to do. It will help soothe your aether. Understood?”

“Yes, Proctor.”

“I will see you at midday.”

Gregory nodded, flopping back onto his bed when she left. The cramps in his gut did seem to be easing up, but it was not quick and it was not pleasant.