Two days passed without drama as I got used to Grenwood. The place had a rhythm. The main roads were reasonably safe during the day. The side streets, not so much. Gangs ran the lower quarters, each dividing them into their own little kingdoms. Drugs, prostitution, murder, rape, extortion, and every flavor of crime that can happen does, and someone profits. All my furniture was delivered, and every vanity was paid for. Now was the time to hunker down and research.
I sat in Unber's, enjoying a meat pie, considering the problem I had been facing with designing an oven. It was simple enough to heat the air inside a metal box. However, the temperature just kept rising, eventually reaching the point where the bread would be burnt long before the center was cooked. However, only this morning I discovered a possible solution when attempting to create an ice box that didn't freeze its contents. I drew the heat from the air inside the box and fed the energy into an empty arcane circle, and noticed, the load wasn't significant enough to drop the air to its minimum energy point.
Why was this? After some experimentation, I finally concluded: heat was being added to the air faster than my circuit was extracting it. Why was this? It took me some time to realize that the lower the temperature of a substance, the faster it absorbed heat. That meant my circuit and natural heat absorption from the frigid air reached an equilibrium. The opposite was also true: the hotter a substance, the faster it dissipated heat into the air.
So, I had an idea. Heat the air inside the oven until it reaches its equilibrium, then create a second arcane circle to extract a small amount of heat. This would effectively lower the temperature where the heat absorption, heat addition, and natural heat dissipation reached an equilibrium. And just like that, I could make an oven that maintains a constant temperature. I just had to regulate how fast to absorb the heat, and I could create the perfect oven for baking bread. No fancy energy regulation circuit is needed.
My peaceful morning was interrupted by a commotion at the door. Nine men walked in, all large, intimidating, carrying weapons.
'Is that a crossbow? Where can I buy one?'
One man in the center, flanked by four men on each side, was dressed like a noble in dark blue and purple. The patrons all stopped eating. He was bald with a well-trimmed brown beard and eyes as blue as water. His men were the typical thugs I had seen around town, large, ugly, wearing rough leather. I couldn't tell them apart if I tried.
'Oh, is this one of those shake downs!'
It was the first time I had seen it in person.
"Everyone leave," The man in the center said.
'Is he one of those gang leaders I have heard people whisper about?'
I stood to leave, not that interested in whatever crime was about to happen.
"You. Stay."
It took me a second to realize he was looking at me.
'I've served nobility, yet this well-dressed peasant presumes to command me.’
I always had my Dragons’ breath active when out in the city. If I touched my chest where the stone was, everyone in this room would die. And the building would probably burn down.
I stared at him from across the room. By this point, everyone, even the owner, had left.
'Were these men friends of the two fools coming here to get revenge? That's the only reason I can think of.'
I stood, raising my right hand, palm first, just as the last person walked out.
"What do you want?" I asked.
'Careful now, little gang leader. Give me the wrong answer and you die.'
His blue eyes went to my palm, then back to my eyes.
"Jorm stay; the rest of you leave.”
They obeyed his command without question. Of the nine men, only two remained.
'That was unexpected, well, that makes it easier.'
"Let's sit and talk, Magus Sera," he said, gesturing at a table in the center of the room.
My mind raced and found the obvious conclusion. We sat at practically the same time. Jorm stood to his left. I examined his posture. Calm with an underlying tension. The leader, however, was stillness incarnate.
'Derek! Must be.'
"The two fools were yours?" I asked.
"Indeed, for my men to be killed so openly demands investigation," he said calmly.
'Excellent speaking. An educated man. Sits upright and hands folded in his lap. A child of wealth? Minor nobility?'
"And found the correct conclusion. Bold of you to face me and only keep a single guard."
"My son, not a guard, he needs to learn the ropes as they were."
I looked between him and the blonde man. Not a slip of resemblance. He kept speaking, "As I have stated, the death of two of my men demands attention. I cannot tolerate such action in my territory; a debt is owed."
I removed any trace of emotion from my voice, any hint of humanity. "Let me tell you something. I owe you nothing for their lives, as far as I am concerned, they were insects, unworthy even of being stepped on. Yet one fool thought he could lay a hand on me. Death was too small a price to pay for such arrogance."
His expression remained as stone, but his son, however, looked ready to draw the blade hanging on his hip.
"Regardless, you killed my men, and it demands correction."
I almost wanted to laugh, "You fail to see who has more power here."
He raised an eyebrow, "Do I? I have eyes and ears in every corner of this city. You may be a magus, but daggers in the night kill just the same. Even then, perhaps the Magisterium would like some information on an apostate."
'Damn, he has a point. After all, I killed Elis in her sleep. And the Magisterium, the inquisitors are always a concern.'
My confidence started to wane before the fire within burned at the insult.
'Don’t be so weak, Myr, think deeper. Remember the city you're in. Remember who truly has the power. This glorified thug dares to threaten you. Put him in his place.'
I let the fire consume my fear and hesitation, turning it to cinders. I activated my animus.
"Bold of you to threaten a Magus. You assume I don't have magical protection against daggers and arrows, and you still make the threat, so let me tell you this. If someone assaults me in an alley, I'll blame you. If I get the shits from a bad meat pie, I'll blame you. If I break a nail, I'll blame you. I don't need proof or cause; when any misfortune falls on me, I'll blame you. And I won't attack you. I’ll go street by street, block by block, burning everything to the ground so you can rule a pile of ashes."
Still, the man was stone against my flame.
"Not concerned about the Magisterium?" There was a slight smile on his face.
‘Amusement? What’s his real intention here?’
I smirked, "With that baroness, I’m not concerned. It takes three months to reach the capital. How long would they take to deliberate and send an inquisitor? And how long would they take to arrive? How much destruction do you think I could have wrought during that time? But you don't seem like an idiot, so why are you really here?"
He looked at his son, "Now do you understand my caution? She's a bit more than a slip of a girl, isn't she?" he asked.
Jorm took a deep breath and nodded, "Aye."
The leader caught my eye again, "Tell my son, how close were we to death?"
I looked him in the eye, "I could have reduced you to ash before you could draw your sword."
The bald man nodded, "As expected, do you know why I still didn't buckle when you raised your hand? Even though I know you could have used magic to kill me."
I thought about it for a moment.
'If he knew the danger a Magus could pose and still chose to face me, then there were two answers. And he didn’t seem stupid.'
"Reputation, you can’t afford to be seen as weak when confronting the killer of your men," I answered.
"Correct. I am a businessman at heart. My greatest skills are my judgment of character and making deals." He said confidently.
"Oh, what can you judge by looking at me?"
"Ruthless, violent, likely traumatic past. Not afraid to kill with your hands. You like violence, not love it. You don't seek murder and mayhem. But if you have to, you will. Reasonably practical, not overly arrogant. That means the solution to neutralize you with minimal impact to my business is...."
"...to make a deal. That's why you're here. "I finished.
"Precisely, a magus squatting in Grenwood, only two possibilities exist: a criminal or an apostate. Which means you want to stay here for some time. Preferably without too much interference from the guard."
I chuckled; he was impressing me. "You're willing to barter and not demand. You know I'm not even 18 summers."
"As I said, I'm an excellent judge of character, and I'm a practical man; appearance, age, sex, it means nothing to me.”
"You think I'll make a deal; your men tried to rape me after all?" I asked.
“Tell me, do you still keep count?" He asked.
'It's fifteen now.'
"Yes,"
"Early days for you then. The moment I met your eyes, I knew what you were. You killed without hesitation, without mercy. Someone overheard your confrontation; they mentioned a woman laughing and a man screaming. You enjoyed burning Vin to death. But that's your only killing in the city. Enjoying and craving killing are two different things. The latter is a liability. The former, well, that I can work with. So, in the end, they were little more than insects to you, and they meant nothing to me. I doubt you even thought much about them after the killing."
'I even had braised pork shoulder for supper.'
"What’s your deal?" I asked.
He leaned back, "First, can I see a demonstration of magic? I still need a hundred percent certainty. For all I know, you are just an impressive performer."
He clearly didn't believe his own words.
'Jorm then. He wants Jorm to be sure.'
I shrugged, walked over to the burning hearth, grabbed a spare log, and sat back down.
With my right palm above the table. I expanded the sphere of influence. This provided enough power to create the stream of fire. Jorm jumped back in fear, hand reaching for his sword as the five-foot-tall red-blue fire sprouted from the center of my palm. After three seconds, the log turned to ash and the flames stopped. To my satisfaction, the man's eyes spread wide as he stared at the flame.
Jorm took a full minute to calm down. Trying to hide his fear, he sniffed, "You need wood to power your magic?" He asked, and I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Think deeper, boy. She showed us she can use wood, not that she needs wood. Showing an obvious limitation like this was a distraction. Magi can use different sources to power their magic," Derek reprimanded.
'Not only does he understand a little about magic, but he also deduced my intention.'
"Very well, Derek, what is your offer?"
"Life is cheap in Grenwood. A significant payment would be acceptable, but in this case, I already have what you'll pay me with." Derek nodded to Jorm, who left the room and came back with a crate.
He pulled out an odd wand with a foot-wide ring attached to the top. Then he brought out a three-legged base and attached the wand to the base.
"If you can make this work, we can call the entire affair closed and discuss further business."
'This was what the entire drama was for. Even a basic magical item could sell for several gold. And now he had the perfect person to fix it.'
Derek and Jorm watched as I picked up the wand and examined it. It was painted white, but the inner ring of the circle was shaved away to reveal runes and a circle carved into the iron. It was filled with clay. The arcane circle, however, was strange.
It was an odd combination of source and load. The load circuit was strange, though I could decipher its meaning in a few minutes. However, connected to the circle for the load was another set of runes. It wasn't a source, actually; it was a bridge for another arcane load to connect to. If I were reading the runes correctly. One main source connected to the arcane load. Then each load would be bridged to the other.
'A single source for multiple arcane loads. I have to try it out. If it was correct, this once simple magical item opened up a new paradigm for me.'
I looked at the rest of the runes, uninteresting but still tricky.
"One of you?" I asked. Nodding to the damage.
Jorm looked guilty, though no one answered.
It was a complex circuit that pushed and heated air at the same time. It increased the pressure in the center of the sphere, pushing the air, and applying a third force I couldn't understand. "Spin coercion? Turn power? Twist strong?" I mumbled, trying to decipher what the runes meant.
It was applying a force to the stream of air, but I could not understand what exactly it was supposed to do.
"Are you describing torque?" Derek asked.
"Torque?" I had never heard the word before.
"Rotational force. Say a doorknob has rusted shut, you might need to add more torque to turn it." Derek explained.
And just like that, I understood what the circuit was doing. It was applying a rotational force, creating a spiraling airstream. No, it was more than that; it was meant to condense as much air in the center as possible as it passed through the sphere of influence. Why, though, wouldn't it be simpler to push the air through? I decided to test it later.
‘Do these fools know how interesting this seemingly simple piece of magic is? No, of course not, they're just peasants in the end.'
"It essentially creates a stream of warm air, a nice trinket to have in the winter. You intend to sell this?" I asked.
"Certainly," Derek answered.
"Let's continue negotiations."
Derek leaned back, "What exactly do you want?"
'What do I need. Time protection, most of all, I want to be left alone to research.'
"Simple, I don't want to be bothered. But that seems unlikely. The street I live on, how important is that to you? I think it suits me."
"So, you want a slice of my territory."
I shrugged, "Not necessarily. I want to practice my magic, but I also don't want to be disturbed. How you sell this is your prerogative. If you can find a solution that works for both of us, I'll repair that little trinket so you can sell it. And I’ll even repair anything else you find for a cut of the profit."
He leaned back in his chair, contemplating, "For this to work, you would have to be subordinate. A new power rising in the city would only cause the entire system to destabilize."
"You could make her a Lieutenant with a small territory to manage. We need a replacement for the two idiots anyway." Jorm suggested.
Derek looked at his son, almost in approval.
"What does that entail?" I asked.
"You protect the businesses, and they pay monthly. So long as the business pays up, I don't care how you run things."
"That fan could fetch gold; extorting a few businesses hardly compares."
Derek looked at the item, "Can you make more of these?"
I shrugged, "Certainly, but if magic tools start flooding the market......"
"…. Not even our dear baroness could ignore it. The clientele would have to be chosen well." Derek mumbled.
Then he seemed to settle, "How about this then. You run a small territory under my name, collect protection as you wish. Your payment to me would be in magical items. Any new item I find, I will bring to you for study and possible reproduction. Occasionally, I'll call you to burn someone alive to show I control you. In return, you get protection from the guards and other gangs, and we keep your existence confined to the lower quarters and out of the Magisterium’s ears. And of course, after this first item, we will share the profits or a flat price if it suits you."
'The only thing that matters is practice and learning. If it means being subordinate to this man, so be it. I'm willing to play the part of his personal fire magus for some time. At least he doesn't seem the type to overstep himself.'
"What is the limit on how I can treat the citizens?" I asked.
He shrugged, "I demand three things from my lieutenants: collect my coin, pay on time, and defend my territory.”
‘In other words, I can do whatever the hells I want.’
Jorm started to speak, "You'll need a crew to keep order in your territory; all that's up to you."
'Well, doesn't that sound fun? I never thought I would be part of a gang. Now I have to find a crew. Life is so amusing.'
I guessed how far I was from my energy furnace.
'Two hundred paces? More than enough power.'
I bound the wand to an empty source on my energy furnace. A nice steady stream of air flowed through the ring on the tip of the wand, then I attached it to the base and pointed it at Derek.
"Rather pleasant, isn't it?" I asked.
Derek chuckled, picked it up, brought it close to his face, and closed his eyes. Shaking his head, he placed it back onto the stand.
"47 years that's been in the family. I can’t believe that's all it does."
'Oh, how little you know.'