Chapter 1

  The scratching of metal nibs on parchment persisted late into the night, late enough to have turned early with the encroaching dawn. The hushed noise emanated within a dark room but for the foggy glare of a desk lamp. Illuminated were an aged tome unfurled upon a bookrest while two journals lay open on either side.

  The source of disquiet were two strange pens making hurried notes in their respective journals, peculiar in that the instruments moved as if held by invisible hands. The pages, in turn, flipped obediently upon completion with a mind of their own.

  The orchestrator of such ghostly happenings was a boy named Hektor, taking the chair as he diligently perused the upheld tome. Occasionally his eyes would trace the sentient pens in the periphery as they filled their designated lines, before focusing back to his reading.

  After a time, the pages stopped turning and the pens laid to rest. Relaxing, Hektor stretched his cramped neck and pinched the bridge of his nose, wetting his strained eyes. He slouched, tiredly peaking towards the curtained window to glimpse the time of day to find that it was still sundown.

  Exhaling fumes of exhaustion, Hektor leaned back in his chair. It had been a draining session. The delicate control of the pens was taxing enough, but to split his concentration for note-making while reading, all simultaneously, magnified the difficulty immensely. It had been an arduous journey to attain such proficiency, and Hektor was as pleased as he was proud of the outcome.

  Looking to the amount of writing he had managed, Hektor preened with satisfaction. He had come a long way from when he had found his magic. Little more than two years ago, his magic could barely lift a feather. Since then, his ensuing growth had been modestly impressive, more so that he was self-taught and doing so without the aid of alchemy.

  Surfacing from his thoughts, Hektor positioned the lamp to brighten the stale surroundings. The décor consisted of the basic quartet of bed, dresser, table and chair. The paired curtains went unadorned with the thin rug warming the floor.

  The plain room felt scarcely lived in. Besides the unmade bed and the littered desk, there was very little in the room to be untidy about.

  Nonetheless, Hektor sought to organize as he took a calming breath and focused. An invisible force made the bed and fluffed the pillows. The books snapped shut, stacked and floated to a desk drawer that closed upon deposit. The pens drained of their ink into the inkwell that capped itself, after which the writing instruments placed themselves into the second twin drawer.

  Each task was performed in sequence, one after the other. For its finesse, Hektor’s magic was not able to undertake tasks of increasing weight.

  Intent on doing more, Hektor strained his diminishing magic and all too soon the ghostly activity in the room halted. Awash with lethargy, Hektor swayed and leant onto the table for support. He had pushed himself too far for too long and was punished with tiredness and nausea. It was an all too familiar feeling.

  Like with most things, there were growing pains.

  After the bout of weakness regressed somewhat, Hektor moved to the window and was surprised to find daylight streaming in. He had forgotten that the curtains were thicker here.

  Parting the drapes and unlatching the window to air the room, everything returned to the ordinary. No more magic. Decidedly onwards, Hektor was decidedly not a mage.

  The pretense very much an everyday routine of his life.

  Before moving on, he rummaged for his pocket watch. Learning that it was just to be six in the morning, he made for the kitchen.

  Traversing the unkempt living room, Hektor took to the kitchen with a familiarity and soon had vibrant omelets cooking and strips of bacon sizzling with a pot of tea occupying the last spot on the stove. He usually leaned towards the healthier side of cooking, but for the sake of whom he was cooking for he relented with a chunk of butter to the pan.

  Strictly speaking, he did not need to do. Not the extra buttering of bacon, nor the breakfast as a whole. Nonetheless, he enjoyed the task.

  Summoned by the meal, a man in his nightshirt emerged from one of the rooms. Groaning, yawning and blinking owlishly, the man stumbled across before depositing himself on the dining table close to the open kitchen door. He thumped his head on the table, a picture of drowsiness.

  “Morning, Master Thadeus,” Hektor greeted, to which the man only groaned miserably in reply.

  Hektor didn’t mind the gruffness. Not pushing for conversation, he had the table set quickly. The still sizzling bacon going entirely to Thadeus’ side.

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  Sluggish, Thadeus sat straighter reaching for his cup, the tea rousing him to an alertness acceptable for the consuming of breakfast. Both of them went quietly about their meal, with Hektor adding last day’s stale bread to his diet.

  Having cleared his plate of eggs, Thadeus croaked, “You look tired.” Clearing his throat with a sip, he inquired, “Trouble sleeping?”

  Hektor looked across to the man and his scruffy appearance, paired with the similarly disheveled room in the background. If ever there was a portrait of a bachelor that had let themself go, this was it. An obstinate bachelor at that, Thadeus liked his hovel just the way it was and any opinion to the contrary was not appreciated. He hated not finding something where he had left it and went irate when anyone interfered with his ‘cataloguing’. Gratefully, while the house was in disarray, it was never dirty. Hektor assumed it was more so on account of the books and documents housed within rather than hygiene.

  With a fondness, Hektor replied, “No, Master Thadeus. Just woke up earlier than usual.”

  “You are too young for such respectable habits,” Thadeus chided in his most paternal tone, reaching for the bacon, savoring his favorite for last. “We don’t have anything planned, do we?” he asked absently before a crunchy mouthful.

  “Not particularly,” Hektor reasoned. “We finished the lesson with Julius Pollux into the eleventh century. With the limited time, you said it would be better that we leave Cato Remus for our next session.”

  Thadeus nodded along. “Yes, that would be for the best,” he vouched. Thadeus would never deny History its due. If and when he was to teach, he would do so properly. “Any inquiries?”

  “Not any I could think of at the moment,” Hektor replied, politely differing. Knowing that Thadeus liked to set his own pace and preferred teaching later in the day, Hektor didn’t mind accommodating his tutor’s preferences. Especially when he stayed over as a guest.

  Savoring the bacon, Thadeus gestured for Hektor to hold table talk.

  “I have assignment work,” Hektor fibbed. He had finished all of them, but he would be a fool to increase his homework by showing that he could handle more. As it was, he invested all his free time towards magic.

  “I could run errands,” Hektor offered, remembering. “Visit the stores on your behalf.”

  “What for?” Thadeus refuted to being challenged to the running of his household.

  Hektor excused himself to his room, returning with a slip of paper and handed it over.

  Studying the shopping list with an eye to find fault at the youngster budding in on his business, Thadeus disappointedly found it all very sensible. Finding nothing to complain about, Thadeus grunted his approval. It was too early for him to express that he was touched by the care shown by his student.

  “Add wine to it. A note to Lavington’s will suffice,” Thadeus added, mentioning his regular liquor shop.

  “Is that wise, Master Thadeus?” Hektor placated.

  Not appreciating the rebuke, Thadeus barely managed to reign in his temper with the self-reminder that he was not pleasant to be around in the mornings. Rubbing his forehead, Thadeus recalled the boy’s aversion to the vices and sighed. A very admirable quality, if not only it discouraged Thadeus from getting his.

  “Don’t bother then. I would have to make the trip to the shops regardless,” argued Thadeus, unwilling to entirely let go of his sullenness.

  “Are you sure?” Hektor asked patiently. “I could run a bit of housekeeping for you before leaving.”

  “Leaving already?” Thadeus murmured while resting his greasy hand on his potbelly except of which he was a lean man. “Well, I am surprised. Time goes by quicker with company.”

  At the ensuing awkwardness, Thadeus sniffed in exasperation at the both of them. “You do not need to worry about me, boy. You have your own self to worry about. Leave me out of it.” Looking to the change the subject, he asked, “You mentioned going to the farm, did you not?”

  “Yes, the Hatfield’s.” Hektor affirmed. He was expected at the ranch about once a year.

  “Looking forward to it?”

  “It is peaceful,” Hektor hedged. “But I do not find rearing cattle to the dinner plate particularly enjoyable,” he confided.

  Thadeus chuckled at Hektor’s discomfort. It was amusing picturing the boy before him being a ranch hand. Even more so when the farm also had the business of a butchers.

  “Well, it certainly is thorough,” Thadeus thought to himself. “Similarities abound.”

  “Similarities, Master Thadeus?”

  Thadeus realized that he had spoken out loud. He was about to dismiss his lapse, but a stray thought gave him pause. He looked to his student and seemed to ponder his decision.

  Hektor didn’t interrupt. When Thadeus turned thoughtful, it was best to humor him.

  Meanwhile Thadeus jostled with the decision of whether to reveal his conjectures, which he had harbored for some time, or to let them be. Undecided, he arose and moved to one of the rooms.

  Familiar with his tutor’s antic, Hektor was not too alarmed. As anticipated, Thadeus returned with a book and offered it to Hektor without instruction. Of simple leather covering, the title read ‘My Time With The Norish Tribes by Odwin Mells’.

  The silent exchange was a common occurrence. Routinely, Thadeus would give Hektor texts to study and later they would hold discussions over the subject in the pursuit of both knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge of the written word and that of an experienced academic. Wisdom behest of the profound insight and wise consul of an intelligent man.

  Appointed Hektor’s tutor of History and Philosophy, Thadeus was not only compelled by the ‘what’, ‘when’ and ‘who’, but also the ‘how’ and ‘why’ in his lessons.

  Hektor accepted the book, but sensed indecision from his teacher.

  Having been caught absentminded a second time, Thadeus deflected nonchalantly, “Make of it what you will.”

  Confused, Hektor could only speculate about the eccentric Alan Thadeus. Looking to the book in his hands, the title was innocuous enough and did not lend to any nefarious notions.

  Just then, both of them were alerted to the sound of horses nearing the house and then hitching to a post.

  “That’s unexpected,” thought Hektor as he heard a person approaching the door and knock.