Haliard’s grim pronunciation put a damper on the excitement Mike was feeling. The exhaustion of the training caught up to Mike even as the stress of the future tumbled through his mind. Both men soon fell asleep in the silence.

  Mike awoke with a groan as Haliard cleaned himself in the sink. The old man was humming a jaunty tune just a little louder than he needed to. Mike rolled over until he was sitting on the bed, his legs splayed before them.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been this sore in my life.”

  “Good morning to you too,” Haliard said. He had already showered, his massive hair and beard tamed by the water. “You worked hard yesterday, far harder than normal. Get cleaned up and get around some food, it will help.”

  Mike rose and headed to the shower himself. The enchantment had a wide range of temperatures, and he put it as hot as he could stand. Mike let his muscles relax in the heat, enjoying the steam that built up. Right before he got out, he plunged the temperature, shocking his body into a wakefulness it didn’t appreciate.

  Breakfast was more of the same. Mike sat, poking the food on his plate as the rest of the men filtered in. Bradiac came and sat next to him with his own plate and started eating.

  “Something wrong?” he asked Mike between bites.

  “No, it is just…” Mike picked up a spoonful of food and let if all back to the plate. “The monotony is setting it.”

  “You’d think being a slave warrior in the service of a mageocracy would be the high life, but here we are.”

  “But Haliard said you did something that might pick things up,” Julian said as he set his plate down on the other side of Mike.

  Mike opened his mouth but stopped before he said anything. He was bristling at Bradiac calling Chilt a “mageocracy.”

  I’m the only mage around here.

  “It would be nice to move back to some better accommodations. As much as I love my brother, he does snore,” Julian continued, not noticing Mike’s irritated face.

  “You’re the one that snores,” Aaron said, brandishing a threatening spoon in his brother’s face.

  “Gentlemen, may I suggest you both snore?” Bradiac said as he sat, drawing the ire of both men. “I of course do not, owing to my superior physiognomy.”

  “Now that is a word I cannot believe I was able to translate,” Mike interjected. That drew a laugh out of the others, and they started talking about what it was like before the Bluringtons fell from grace. Stories about the people they had fought beside.

  The comradery perked Mike up, and he ate while listening to the stories. Haliard even contributed a few this time, no longer dreading the conversation of those who had fallen.

  There was nothing like this in Mike’s old life. Back home, he had friends, acquaintances, but never anyone as close to him as these men had become in the past week. The intimacy of their living spaces, the hours they spent together training, and the stress of fighting for your life pulled them together in a way he had never experienced.

  Mike hoped he could save them all.

  Breakfast passed quickly in that time, the monotony of the food falling to the side as stories were exchanged. They even asked Mike about his past victories, but he sheepishly told them he didn’t have any.

  “Really? What about any great fights?” Bradiac asked him.

  “My world was peaceful. Mostly.” Mike had to be honest about that. “Especially where I was. The most violence I’ve ever had was a bully shoving me when I was nine years old. Otherwise, I never needed to fight.”

  “That is bizarre…” Julian trailed off. “Well, you took to it really well.”

  “Speaking of, it is time to get back to it.” Haliard rose and started to clean up. “Mike, this should be the last day of our one-on-one training.”

  “Yes, it is,” a voice said from the doorway. The gladiators all rose and bowed as Aric made himself known. “Good timing there. I am going to have Micheal work with me all day.”

  “Yes master, of course.” Mike stepped forward as Aric turned. He glanced at Haliard, concerned, but the old man just wave him away. As they headed down the hallway, Mike worked up the nerve to ask him a question. “What am I going to be doing today master? I was looking forward to becoming a more competent fighter.”

  Aric glanced over at him oddly and Mike realized that he wasn’t supposed to speak out of turn. He cursed internally as he scrambled to cover up his slip, but Aric answered him anyway.

  “There are three people who know your spell, and we need all of us to start working on this project. The next few days are going to be busy.”

  “Yes master.”

  “But it is not the end of your training. As we work on identifying all the items we can, we have contracted an alchemist and enchanter to train you. They will be trusted personnel who are indebted to our family. Do not teach them the spell, but they can be present while you work.”

  “Yes master.”

  They continued through the compound. The activity Mike had passed through last night had at least tripled, and he was certain some of the slave’s toting objects hadn’t slept. They joined the flow of slaves, though there was bubble of space around Aric. He returned the bows of the slaves with nods, never stopping walking.

  Ten minutes saw them in the room where Mike had trained with Aric. The desk had new items on it, ones he assumed were for alchemy. They looked enough like the chemistry set that Mike had played with while he was a kid that he could figure out what the burner with a long neck and the various bottles were for, but the rest of it baffled him.

  The back of the room was full of chests, stacked as high as Mike’s shoulder. Each one matched the dimensionally expanded chest that Aric had to store the spears. Numbering was hastily scrawled across the front to label them. As Mike entered, another slave followed, setting down a chest beside the others.

  Even Aric looked surprised at the number of them. “Micheal, you are to go through each item in the chest, cast Identify on it, then write down the results in this book.” He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and handed it to Mike along with a pen. Mike realized it was a ballpoint.

  “Make sure to note at the top of the page what the chest number is. This is matched with a logbook in our armory; anything you put in here will be in there.” He sighed. “My father and I will be working our way through other family’s items elsewhere.”

  Aric turned towards Mike and raised his hand, pointing directly at him. “At no point do you tell anyone other than my father or me what you see.”

  “Yes master. Each chest one by one. How should I call someone when I am done with a chest?”

  “Just mark it in the book.” Aric was already turning to leave. “Food and drink will be brought to you. If needed, a bed will be brought as well. Do not leave the room without my permission. Your trainers will be along momentarily. Let them know if you need anything else.”

  “Yes master,” Mike repeated again. He was getting tired of repeating the phrase, but it was a simple catchall. He grabbed the chest closest to him and brought it to the desk.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Mike opened the notebook to the first page and scrawled a seven across the top, matching the number on the chest. The symbols carved into the chest were the same as the one’s he saw the day before. Leaning forward, Mike placed his hand directly on the chest and said “Identify.”

  Dimensionally Expanded Chest

  A chest that has 191.2 cubic feet of space available. Weight reduction of contents is 0.8 times normal weight.

  “Not as good as the one yesterday, but the symbols seem the same…” Mike wrote down the information, not sure if it was part of what he was supposed to do or not. “Better safe than sorry.”

  The latch was unlocked, so Mike opened it, revealing the odd, depthless darkness he had seen before. It was vaguely disturbing, giving Mike a sense of something… hungry. He shuddered as he looked at it but steeled himself. He plunged his arm in. It vanished at the bicep, disappearing into the darkness. From there down he felt… nothing.

  Not heat, not cold. The sensation was not comfortable, as if his arm had gone completely numb. There weren’t even the pins and needles as if it had fallen asleep, it was as if his arm stopped existing. Mike pulled it out quickly, balling his hand into a fist. There was no difference from how it felt normally once he could see it again. It seemed healthy.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound.” Mike pushed his hand into the chest again. He ignored his uncomfortable feelings and focused on the chest as he wiggled his arm around inside. He closed his fist as if there was something there. Mike didn’t feel it in his hand but knew that he had gripped something. He pulled back.

  There, in his hand, was a massive sword. It was large enough that Mike had to get two hands on it as it left the minor weight reduction of the enchanted chest. The whole thing ended up being five feet in length, and three inches wide at the guard. Mike sat it flat on the table, examining it.

  He felt the tingle of the enchantment, his Mage’s Hunger skill ready to devour it and empower him. He resisted the urge, instead laying his hand on the hilt and casting the limited Identify he had created. Mike’s voice echoed in the room as he tried to put a bit of timbre into it.

  “Identify.”

  Mass Enhanced Sword

  Sword

  This sword has been enchanted to weigh 1.3 times more than the materials used.

  “Well, that seems… pointless?” Mike said as he wrote down the notes. “I guess it hits harder if you are strong enough to use it?”

  “Does it have enhanced weight?” A new voice startled Mike, causing him to look up. A woman wearing the robes of a wizard, the copper thread on the trim showing she was not that highly ranked. “That is actually a failed enchantment that stuck. It is such an interesting reaction.”

  “Greetings, master!” Mike called out as he rose and bowed. She waved at him and walked over to the sword. The symbols on her robe were meaningless to Mike, but he could tell she was not a member of the Blurington family. Her symbol was a hand, open and fingers spread, with the ring finger missing above the first knuckle. “Are you to be my enchanting instructor?”

  “Hmmm?” She glanced at Mike through her curtain of mousy brown hair. Mike couldn’t tell how old she was; she could have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty-five. She was tall and solid. There were confidence and strength both in her movements she hefted the sword.

  When she smiled at Mike, her apparent age dropped, making her appear closer to Mike’s age. She rose and gestured him back to his seat. Her grin was infectious, and Mike couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

  “Yes, I am. Sorry. My name is Bethany, Bethany Scraggler. I am an enchanter, and I am here to teach you how to do this.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you master. I am Mike Wilson.” He wasn’t sure how to proceed with the introduction, but Bethany grabbed his hand and shook it. There were ink stains on her fingers, along with a several scars.

  “I am glad that Aric picked me, you are a strapping young lad.” She looked him up and down without releasing his hand. “A fighter too. Odd to teach one of you enchanting, usually they keep you dumb and strong.”

  Mike barked a laugh at that. The breach in protocol was ignored as Bethany dropped his hand. Her smile came back, mirthful.

  “I guess you’re getting special treatment since you gave them the spell that has the whole country up in arms.” Bethany sat the sword back on the desk and leaned over it. She pointed at the base of the blade, tracing her finger over several small runes. “Come here, look at this.”

  Mike got a closer look to where she was pointing. He recognized several of the symbols, including the ones for mass and momentum. After several seconds of examining it, Mike found that he did understand more of the symbols than he thought. Flicking through his screens, he called up the details of his Enchanting Skill.

  Enchant

  The ability to inscribe spells into materials, storing them for later use or automating their effects. Ability increases as a factor of Intelligence and languages learned.

  Though he was tempted to throw one or two of his Free Point into Intelligence to see what happened, Mike refrained. Focus and study will get that for me, he thought as he examined the symbols. Finally, he shook his head.

  “I recognize them, but it is different than the spell writing that Master Aric has taught me. I cannot figure out what it is meant to do.”

  “That is because, no matter how much you put into it, scribing a spell out like that is only two dimensional. Enchantments exist in… several more.” Bethany laughed at his befuddled expression. “Look deeper.”

  Not sure how to do that, Mike moved closer, leaning into the sword until his eye was just inches away. He focused, trying to figure out what he meant. It eluded him for over a minute. He glanced at Bethany, but she just had a small smile and gestured him back to it. Mike almost rolled his eyes but caught himself. Someone bound would not be that openly disrespectful.

  Bethany started to hum softly. Instead of distracting Mike, it lulled him into a sense of calm. His irritation started to fade, and he recommitted to studying the sword. The sound kept going, even and repetitive. Between that and the focus he had, Mike felt himself slipping into a meditative state.

  It was like before, when he was able to feel the energy outside himself, but this time his eyes were open. Lines snapped between the symbols, making a complicated web. It was so startling to him that Mike leapt back, breaking his focus. As he did, the energy vanished from his sight. Bethany laughed and clapped her hands.

  “Much faster than I expected! Did Aric already have you map your meridians?”

  “What was that?” Mike asked, ignoring her question. That must have seemed odd to her as she quirked her eyebrow at him. “Forgive me master, I was startled. I don’t know what meridians are.”

  “Those lines you saw…” she gestured towards the sword. “And don’t try to convince me you didn’t see them. Those are meridians. Organized, controlled pathways of mana. Mapping your own internal meridians is an important step to becoming a more powerful wizard. Once you get good enough, you can tinker with them.”

  “No master, Master Aric has not said anything about them.” I’m getting real damn tired of the word “master,” Mike thought as he spoke. I might hate it more than all the damn “potent” use at this point.

  “He’s too busy teaching you how to fight, isn’t he?” Bethany shook her head. “His whole family is concerned with making you all better fighters. Still, it might be why my family works for his. Anyway, he did teach you to meditate. I saw part of it happen there. That is an important first step. Instead of reaching out when you do, reach inward. Find them within yourself.”

  When Mike hesitated, glancing at the deep black in the chest, Bethany rolled her eyes and said in a frustrated voice “I give you permission to do this. It is officially designated part of your training with me.”

  Mike realized that she thought he was caught up in a command from Aric and had to swallow a laugh at the irony. He closed his eyes and started to meditate. Ambient mana crawled across him, begging him to reach out and grab it, but his own mana was already full. Instead, he turned those spectral senses inward, trying to find these meridians.

  “With you being an introductory magic user, the meridians will not be too strong. They grow as you force more mana through you, through them. A good metaphor is a river, a stream. At the point you are at, they should be a trickle, a damp spot in your spirit where they meet. Feel for them. Gently.”

  A damp spot in my spirit. Exactly what I want. The meditative state came easier to Mike now and the thought didn’t snap him out of it. He tried to picture rivers flowing through him, seeing if it guided him to somewhere to start, but that image didn’t work. He tried again and again, looking for pathways through his body, but he couldn’t find it.

  The level of focus Mike maintained had sweat beading on his head in ten minutes. He was able to isolate the sensation of mana outside him after several minutes, hoping it would help him differentiate the trickles though his body, but it was no help. There was nothing.

  A brilliant idea popped into his head, hard enough that it almost knocked him out of meditation, but he managed to keep the state. With his eyes closed as they were, the normal display he had up didn’t exist, but he still knew the spells he knew.

  Bizarre what can come to be normal, really.

  Focusing on his insides, Mike cast Torch. That caused a surge of energy through him that he was able to feel, but he couldn’t trace it. There was no way to, this wasn’t a trickle. His whole body flashed with energy, and he was thrown out of the meditative state, gasping.

  Bethany had a smile on her face, surprised and proud. Mike was too caught up in what he had felt. His meridians weren’t a trickle, a damp spot. It wasn’t a meandering pathway of mana through his body.

  It was his body.

  Mike had been trying to spot a river in the middle of the ocean. The spell had come from everywhere inside him. For a moment, he had felt something shift and change, an almost unidentifiable sensation, but Mike had grasped what it was before he was thrown out. He had seen his spell get slightly stronger and closer to leveling up. And he had learned how to do it.

  Mike smiled to himself. Even if he couldn’t learn enchanting at all, Bethany had taught him something very important. The ability to grow and change was inside him, all he had to do was master it. The description of his class came to him unbidden, and his smile grew.

  Mages are magic personified.