Dirty Rotten Magic

All day long, I trekked through the woodland under a lush, green canopy of ancient trees. I followed the faded cart tracks winding their way across the soft, loamy forest floor, bordered by wildflowers that burst in splashes of color against the rich undergrowth. The sun shone brightly overhead, its warmth mingling with the harmonious birdsong—a melody that lifted my spirits even as my mind still marveled at how I'd survived such severe burns. Cautiously, I kept to the less traveled paths, deliberately avoiding any sign of human activity; I wasn't ready to endure another night of agony should someone decide to attack.

The solitude, however, afforded me the precious opportunity to practice my newfound magic. I repeated the two spells I had painstakingly learned, and once again, a delicate, web-like glow shimmered from my hand, illuminating the forest in an otherworldly radiance as I pressed onward toward my destination. Yet my determination had its price—at one point, I must have overexerted myself in casting; I blacked out and later awoke on the cool, damp grass, my nose bleeding profusely. I clutched my nose, and after a few moments the blood slowed to a trickle. Despite a few dizzy spells and recurring nosebleeds, I soon learned to gauge the limits of my magical power, even as I relentlessly pushed myself further in hopes of mastery.

I trusted that my persistent nature would serve me well in this magical realm, though I lamented my lack of combat skills—a vulnerability in a world where fireballs and enchanted arrows flew freely. Perhaps if running counted as a combat skill… but I doubted it could match the fury of elemental attacks.

After many hours of trudging on bare, aching feet, twilight began to drape its soft shadows over the land. Rounding a bend in the path, I emerged into a vast clearing dominated by a meticulously constructed stone wall topped with rugged wooden barricades. The wall, stretching endlessly around the clearing, bore dark burn marks and signs of battle—a testament to its many trials—while clusters of workers hastily patched it up as the day drew to a close. The forest had been trimmed away from the wall, revealing a wide expanse of meadow that sloped upward toward a town perched on a hill. In the still night air, wisps of grey and black smoke curled from chimneys, and a few grazing cows dotting the front lent the scene a pastoral calm.

As I began my approach toward the town's open gates, a memory of the guard's cryptic words about magical cows flitted through my mind. Sure enough, halfway across the field, a remarkably friendly cow ambled up and, with surprising gentleness, began licking my clothing. Its mouth was still scented with fresh, green grass, leaving stains on my already soiled clothes. Amused, I scratched its ear, and soon another cow joined in, their low, contented moos blending with the rustle of the meadow. Though my experience with animals was limited, I quickly learned the simple art of ear-scratching, a skill punctuated by the hearty chorus of bovine calls. Once disentangled from their affectionate clutches, I resumed my journey toward the open gate, where two smiling guards awaited.

"You seem to have created quite a name for yourself in one night," one guard remarked with a conspiratorial smile.

I replied with a confident grin, "Just a plain, tall human."

One of the watchmen laughed and warned, "Be careful. The women love the look of these lofty elves, and you're tall enough to be one."

"Is that so?" I muttered, stepping through the gates with an even wider smile. I had come here seeking answers and the promise of serious money. Knowing I was considered handsome by virtue of my height only bolstered my determination. I had long observed that good-looking people could often extract more from others, and ever since my unexpected growth spurt—and the disciplined workouts that followed—I had resolved to use my advantage. The guard's teasing fit neatly into the plans forming in my mind.

Passing through the gates, I found myself on a narrow, weathered street paved with wooden logs bearing the scars of wagon wheels. The steep incline led the street around a hidden corner, flanked on either side by houses whose walls boasted softly glowing oil lamps—lit by locals using little candles on sticks. Many of the buildings' lower floors served as shops; though most were shuttered for the night, their windows displayed quaint signs advertising clothing, hardware, and weapons.

The street thrummed with life: people in humble cotton shirts and those in more expensive, finely tailored garments mingled as they hurried along. I also noticed a preponderance of armor and weapons—silent witnesses to a society that seemed perpetually on alert for battle. I couldn't help but wonder why everyone appeared ready for war, but that was exactly why I was here—to gather information and, above all, to make money.

I read the store signs as I strolled along the sloping street. Some shops sold food, tempting me with the aroma of fresh bread and roasted meats, but my purpose was singular: I needed to find an inn known for its games of chance and skill—a haven where fortunes could be won or lost. My wandering eventually brought me to the end of the first winding street. At the top of the hill, an open, empty square spread out before me, centered on a modest fountain. On one side of the square stood a two-story building that dominated half the northern side, its door proudly displaying a pig's head painted in bold black on a vivid red background. As I crossed the dusty square, I witnessed a commotion—a couple of muscular men in light leather armor and armed with truncheons were forcefully ejecting a man and a woman from the inn. The pungent odor of spilled alcohol and sweat mingled in the air as the pair staggered and, moments later, the man retched violently onto the ground.

Just as I was about to step inside, the two large men turned their questioning gaze upon me. "What the hell are you?" one barked.

"Human, I think," I replied confidently, "I'm here for a room tonight. I've had a bit of trouble on the road—hence my state of disarray and missing shoes."

Their laughter rang out, and one of them said, "We know what that's like. It can be dangerous out in the forest. But my goodness, you're a tall one. Talk to the barman about a room for the night; we've got plenty."

I ascended a few well-worn stone steps and entered a common room that was a world apart from the quiet inn in the village. This place was noisy, energetic, and cheerful, its walls constructed of rough stone reinforced with intricately carved wooden supports forming a lofty ceiling. Long tables crowded the room, and the clamor of drinking and eating filled the air—a cacophony that was a stark contrast to the tranquil woodland I had just left behind. Female servers flitted about gracefully, balancing tankards and plates, and occasionally a hand would slip too far, prompting a swift, no-nonsense correction from a server—a reminder that this was not a place for the timid.

The large, smoky common room was illuminated by numerous oil lamps hanging from the walls and ceiling, each emitting thin trails of dark smoke. The overall atmosphere was both inviting and slightly perilous, given the room's heavy wooden construction and open flames. One server, dressed in a white apron stained with remnants of past meals, approached me with a warm smile. "Welcome. What can I do for you?"

"I need a room for the night and something to eat," I replied.

"Go talk to the barman on the second level about a room. He can also tell you what's on the menu tonight," she said, her curious eyes lingering on my tall frame as if she'd never seen someone so statuesque before.

"Thank you," I murmured, and began my ascent up the narrow, creaking wooden stairs. My bare, aching feet reminded me painfully of the long day's journey, and I silently vowed to save up for proper footwear soon.

Halfway up, I nearly collided with a man barely a third of my height, his broad frame accentuated by a thick brown beard and intricately braided hair. A heavy hammer, more weapon than tool, rested on his back. When our eyes met, he snarled, "Not seen a dwarf before, you stupid elf?" before shoving past me in a haze of muttered insults. I smirked to myself—so that's what they call you—and pressed on.

At the top, I entered a quieter room where a solitary male bartender—sipping thoughtfully from a tankard—attended a polished wooden bar. "What can I do for you, stranger?" he asked, his eyes sharp with curiosity.

"I need a room for at least a night—maybe a few," I replied.

"Can do. It'll be one copper for the room, plus charges for food and drink," he said, accepting my coin with a practiced nod.

"Do you have any gambling going on?" I inquired, my interest piqued.

"Of course," he answered. "In the next room over, we have magical tables set up. This is a proper inn, unlike those in the seedier parts of town. And remember, if you cheat with magic, you know the rule—no one gets away with it." I recalled all too well the fate of a man I'd seen expelled from the village for such transgressions.

I crossed into the gambling den—a room that buzzed with tension and hope. Better furnished than the rest of the inn, oval tables held small ceramic tokens, and patrons, some dressed in expensive, gleaming fabrics, sat deep in concentration. The aromatic blend of pipe smoke and candle wax filled the room, and landscapes and seascapes adorned the walls, offering quiet reprieve from the competitive atmosphere.

Well-dressed women drifted among the tables like graceful vultures, serving as hostesses whose elegant dresses and subtle gestures were designed to distract and charm the players. One such lady, in a striking red dress with one full sleeve and elegant gloves, approached me with a warm, welcoming smile. "My goodness, you are tall and handsome. Are you one of the elves?" she asked, linking her arm with mine in a friendly embrace.

I laughed and replied, "No pointy ears—just a plain, tall human." Though unconvinced, she smiled, and soon led me by the arm to a table at the far end where four men sat. "This young man wants to join the game," she announced sweetly, "and I'll explain the rules." Two of the men hesitated, but I produced a small pile of three hundred copper coins from my inventory, eliciting approving smiles from all around. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she guided me through the initial rounds, gently explaining the game with the aid of ceramic tablets. After a few rounds, she planted a soft kiss on my cheek and withdrew, leaving my skin tingling in its wake.

By the end of the first round—which I lost—I began to discern the playing styles of my opponents. A large man with a sword at his waist and rusted armor played aggressively, while two tradesmen with daggers employed cautious, calculating strategies. I no longer questioned why so many were armed in this volatile world; I myself felt the urgent need for a weapon, even if it were merely decorative, as I had yet to master combat.

Then the atmosphere shifted abruptly as a familiar face entered—the fire wizard who had once tried to burn me alive. His smile, so chillingly familiar, sent my heart racing. "Come over here, my friend!" I shouted, and when he saw my outstretched hand, his complexion turned as white as parchment. I motioned to an empty seat next to me, and despite the tension, I greeted him with a friendly slap on the back that made him cough nervously.

"Enough of this reunion. Let's play," said one of the armored men. For the next hour, I played with a singular purpose: to strip every last coin from the man beside me. His face grew paler with each round, and when he attempted to leave, I grabbed his arm and said coldly, "No, stay. You don't want to face the dangerous night." Desperation etched his features as he resorted to magic in a vain bid to win. His hands coalesced into a ball of light, the table's symbols flashing violently. In that moment, a large man drew his sword and pressed it to the magician's neck. Before chaos could erupt, bouncers with swords drawn intervened, their stern voices declaring, "Let us deal with him. Put your sword down—we don't want any trouble." As the disgraced wizard was hauled away, I leaned in and whispered, "If I ever see you again, I will kill you. Don't worry about trying to kill me—I'll always come back." His terrified glance confirmed the potency of my bluff, and though I lacked true combat prowess, his fear was enough.

The rest of the table soon dispersed, and I sat alone for a few moments until the elegant lady who had introduced me earlier returned with a small embroidered leather purse full of copper coins. Sliding onto the seat beside me, she pressed close—her warm presence a stark contrast to the cool, tense air. "Your winnings from the cheat, sir," she murmured, her eyes glistening. I opened the purse to reveal another 200 copper coins, which I added to my collection.

Her gaze softened as she reached out seductively and asked, "Do you want some company tonight?"

I shook my head gently. Sensing her disappointment, I quickly added, "You are beautiful, and your company has already filled me with enough happiness. It wouldn't be right for me to monopolize your time tonight, but please, let me offer you a small token of thanks." I produced two copper coins from thin air—a simple trick that usually delighted children—and placed them in her hand. Her face lit up with genuine amazement as she whispered, "Are you some kind of great magician, able to do magic at the gambling tables without it activating?" I nearly lost my composure at her unexpected praise; it was merely a simple misdirection, yet in a world where real magic existed, even the simplest trick carried wonder. I smiled and said, "We all have our little secrets." She nodded, her smile growing ever more radiant as if unburdened by pretense. "Thank you. You're really kind," she said, before planting a gentle kiss on my cheek and drifting off toward another group of patrons.

I smiled contentedly, knowing I had navigated the evening's challenges well. I had managed to impress and charm, setting the stage for a longer-term relationship that might prove beneficial. As I gathered my winnings and updated my inventory, I saw that I now possessed 921 copper coins. That almost made me smile, but then I frowned, still uncertain of their true value in this strange new world. Yet, with the inn charging only one copper per night, I guessed that my newfound wealth was at least significant.