Dirty Rotten Magic

When I entered the inn that night, the atmosphere hit me like a wave of heat and sound—a symphony of laughter, clinking glasses, and the rustle of shifting bodies. The bottom floor was as rowdy as ever, yet tonight it boasted a vast open space carved out in its center, where sturdy wooden tables had been hauled aside with deliberate care to reveal a pulsating heart of revelry. To one side, a lone musician, fingers dancing over a worn lute, played a tune that mingled with the ambient chatter, while the scent of spiced ale and roasting meat wafted in the air. In the center, people were dancing with unbridled joy; their steps were a captivating blend of rustic barn dancing and the spirited jig of a sailor, their bodies twisting and twirling in a vibrant tapestry of movement.

As I stood there, the warm notes of the music wrapping around me like a familiar embrace, I pondered the deep traditions of this land—mysteries that lay hidden in the subtle harmonies and rhythmic pulses of the folk melodies that echoed along the cobbled streets. Just then, the contagious energy of the room reached a new crescendo when one of the serving women, already caught in the dance's fervor, swept gracefully toward me. With a sudden, firm grip on my arm, her touch was both insistent and warm, pulling me joyfully onto the dancefloor. Her smile was radiant, as if she had just been crowned victorious in a contest of hearts.

For a few mesmerizing minutes, she guided me through the intricate steps of the dance. My feet, light as if buoyed by unseen magic, soon found their rhythm, and I began to revel in the sheer delight of the moment. She moved with the grace of a seasoned performer, twisting and turning with an infectious energy that filled the air with the soft thump of footfalls and the gentle rustling of her flowing skirts. As the dance reached its finale and the customary bowing of partners commenced, she playfully tugged me down by my shirt collar and pressed her lips firmly against mine, a kiss that resounded with a promise of mischief. With a giggle that mingled with the fading echoes of the music, she darted away to rejoin her fellow servers, whose laughter rang out like tinkling bells.

Before the next dance number could ignite the floor once more, I made a beeline for the creaking wooden stairs leading upward into the quieter recesses of the inn. Soon, I found myself in the gambling room—a space whose subdued silence felt almost unnatural after the vibrant cacophony below. A chill seemed to linger in the still air as my eyes were drawn to two imposing figures clad in black clothing and rugged leather armor. Their presence was as silent as a storm gathering on the horizon, and one of them exchanged a curt nod with the other as they strode toward me. I had never encountered law enforcers who looked so fierce—a town's version of police, cloaked in an aura of dread and intimidation, their hefty swords glinting ominously at their sides.

When they reached me, the larger of the two bowed slightly, his voice low and respectful as he said, "We would be honored if you would accompany us to the mayor's office." Both men kept their hands near their sword hilts, yet their subtle body language betrayed a hint of apprehension towards me—a detail that, in a strangely comforting way, bolstered my spirits. Curiosity mingled with a trace of defiance, for I had been in this town a mere two days, with no obvious misdeeds to my name. Perhaps the extortion of the guild man, though morally dubious, was hardly a crime when one was paid for it.

Scanning the room, I caught sight of the serving woman from earlier, now seated beside a man. Her posture exuded unease, her body tensed as if bracing against an unseen threat, and she deliberately avoided making eye contact with me. Shrugging off the discomfort, I mused quietly, "Let's see where this leads."

"I would be honored to meet his worship, the mayor. Please lead the way, gentlemen," I said, my tone calm but laced with a hint of defiant amusement. The soldiers exhaled collectively, their tension visibly releasing as one gestured for me to follow while the other assumed a shadowy position behind. As we descended into a lower room, the lively music abruptly ceased with the first soldier's entry, and the patrons quickly parted, curiosity etched on their faces as they watched me—a tall, enigmatic figure—being escorted by two town soldiers.

The silent march across the city toward the guild square was punctuated only by the soft padding of our footsteps and the respectful, almost reverent nods from passersby. Even the well-to-do, clad in fine fabrics and jeweled accessories, stepped aside to allow our procession to pass. Upon reaching the square, I was led to a building on the right side of the guild—a structure with a stone lower story and a predominantly timber second floor. Numerous windows on the upper level hinted at a grand hall sheltered behind a majestic entrance, and the façade was adorned with a crest proclaiming the town's proud heritage.

At the massive wooden doors of the town hall, guarded by two steadfast figures beneath a graceful archway, I was ushered into a foyer lined with gleaming, intricately carved wooden panels that depicted scenes of the town's storied past. Magical lights—ethereal orbs floating softly in the air—caressed these carvings, casting gentle, shifting shadows. Rows of cushioned chairs flanked the sides, as if awaiting a congregation of esteemed guests, while at the far end a pair of more guarded wooden doors allowed murmurings and soft voices to seep through.

Escorted into the high-vaulted hall, I took in the sight of massive carved wooden beams that arched overhead like the ancient limbs of a colossal tree, their textures rich and deep with the history of time. Light streamed through numerous windows above, now replaced by the soft glow of hovering magical spheres. At the far end of the room, an oversized wooden chair commanded attention; upon it sat a man cloaked in fur, a golden necklace shimmering against the dim light, and before him lay an array of long tables—only one of which was occupied, reserved for someone who I presumed to be the mayor.

The first familiar face was that of the old guild master I had encountered just the day before. He turned and fixed me with a gaze brimming with intense curiosity, his eyes reflecting both the weight of his experience and a spark of mischief. Beside him, the elven woman I had inadvertently brushed against during my entry into the guild sat stiffly, her eyes refusing to meet mine, as if I had morphed into something monstrous overnight. Her body language was laden with silent fear, and I couldn't help but wonder if my very presence was to blame. At a nearby table, a fancily dressed man offered a congenial smile, while two older figures in black uniforms—grim and inscrutable—watched me with stony, unreadable expressions.

The mayor himself then rose, his broad, welcoming smile belied by a subtle air of calculated politeness. He strode forward with the assured gait of a seasoned politician, extending a firm handshake before placing a warm arm around my shoulder and guiding me to one of the plush chairs. With a courteous gesture, he asked, "Would you like anything to drink while we discuss the reason why we invited you here?"

I surveyed the room, noting the persistent avoidance in the elven woman's eyes, while every other soul in the hall seemed intent on studying me. "No, I'm fine, but thank you for the offer. If you could tell me why you have brought me here…" I began, curiosity tempered with a hint of skepticism.

The mayor's smile deepened into one that never quite reached his eyes as he introduced the gathering. "Firstly, let me introduce the rest of the company. The lady is Alea, from the elven court." I turned to her, striving once more to catch her gaze, only to be met with a shiver and averted eyes, as if she feared what might lie beneath the surface of my true self. I wondered at the stark contrast: she, who had once carried herself with an air of haughty arrogance, now appeared tremulous and vulnerable.

Pointing gracefully to a man resplendent in expensive attire, the mayor continued, "Sir Lohein is our chief diplomat. The two officers of the city militia are Captain Buasog and Commander Deehielm." Each nodded their greeting with an air of solemn courtesy. The mayor then remarked, "Of course, you know the master of the guild." A warm smile spread across his face as he stepped forward, shaking my hand with a familiarity that belied our scant encounters. "Good to see you again, boy," he said, his tone as friendly as it was puzzling, given the odd honor with which I was being treated—everyone but the elf.

The conversation soon turned to pressing matters. "Sir Lohein is about to lead a quest to the orc tribes to the south," the mayor said with earnest intensity. "We have intelligence that they are about to attack this territory, and we want to find a diplomatic solution. It has worked before, and we have been able to appease the orcs, as they are an honorable race." The commander interjected with a gruff tone, "And barbaric," eliciting a ripple of murmured agreement around the table.

With a confident smile, I interjected, "So, your worship, what do you want with me?" The mayor cleared his throat and glanced sideways at the still-reticent elf. "We want you to accompany the quest to add some significant magical power. We feel this would help with the negotiation." A thought sparked in my mind—I had long endeavored to project an aura of power, yet here the guild master stood, ready to challenge that illusion.

I looked at him, my eyes narrowing playfully. "You, sir, did a test on me that indicated that my power level was close to zero." The guild master replied with measured calm, "We have additional evidence that suggests that what the test showed is not true." With a mixture of amusement and indignation, I asked, "Please enlighten me, would you?" as I glared at him like an exasperated teacher confronting a wayward student. He gulped, and I sensed his discomfort amid the room's charged atmosphere.

"We have convincing evidence that you are not what you say you are," he stated. I maintained a composed smile and inquired, "Would you mind going through the evidence?" The mayor then shuffled some papers on the table, his voice steady as he continued, "A man we caught cheating at a gambling table swears that he killed you. That you came back to life as if you were immortal." He paused, his eyes locking on mine while Alea inhaled sharply, her eyes flicking towards the mayor with a mix of indignation and authority. With a slight bow of his head, the mayor acknowledged her unspoken command.

"At first, we didn't take too much notice until some probing questions were raised by Lady Alea, who, though unwilling to reveal all the details, confirmed the possibility that you are some kind of great magical user," the mayor explained, his gaze alternating between me and the visibly shaken elf. "Then, after more investigation, we started to receive reports of some interesting inconsistencies in your story of being low level. The first was the use of magic at a magical detection table without it being activated. Then, of course, the strange guild test." He exchanged a knowing smile with the guild master, who added, "Then finally, the incident with the clerk at the guild who swears that he saw you doing some great fire magic."

I sat for a moment, striving to appear magnanimous as I considered the cascade of accusations. Though I had spent much of my short time here projecting an image of formidable power, the evidence now piled before me made me question if my efforts had been nothing more than clever illusion. Yet what truly unsettled me was the sheer terror emanating from the elven woman. It made me wonder if perhaps the elves were inherently fragile, or if there was something about me that truly disturbed her.

"If this is true, why would I want to do your quest?" I finally asked, a confident smile trying to mask my inner doubts.

"We could appeal to you in the interests of the town and say that without your help, this town may be attacked by an orc army," the mayor proposed, his tone earnest. A snort of disbelief from Lady Alea punctuated his words, as if dismissing the notion that I would be swayed by civic duty. "Or we could pay you handsomely in gold, as you seem to be after money." The allure of gold was irresistible; after all, the promise of a chest brimming with coins held a tangible appeal, especially when every copper coin could secure a night's shelter in this world.

I nodded, my heart racing with both excitement and trepidation. "I'm interested."

Relief seemed to wash over the faces around the table, though the elf's disdainful gaze lingered on the mayor as if to scold him for his perceived folly. "Good then, if you would be prepared to listen in on the rest of our planning…?" the mayor said with a genial smile.

I sank back into the cushioned seat, ready to absorb every detail of my newfound destiny. Captain Buasog took the floor. "As I mentioned before the interruption, my unit of guards will be safeguarding the chest with gifts for the orcs and escorting the delegation. However, we will not be able to enter the orc stronghold as that would be seen as a provocation. At that point, the gifts will remain in the careful custody of the delegation." Captain Buasog's colleague, Logan, nodded in agreement and added with a touch of mirth, "I'm sure our new friend can handle guarding a chest of gold."

I acknowledged his confidence with a solemn nod, aware that despite my self-assured exterior, my reliability was as fickle as a cat guarding its cherished bowl of cream. The plan was growing ever more enticing—a chest full of gold was at stake, and I wondered silently how secure such a treasure might be if it were locked.

"Good," the mayor said, "Now we have three in the delegation: Sir Lohein, Lady Alea, and the magician Chrix. The escort of guards will wait for you outside the orc stronghold. If everyone agrees, then it's an early start for all. Good night to you all." As conversation resumed among the group, the elven woman maintained her distant, scornful posture, her eyes never meeting mine.

With a soft chime, the mayor rang a small bell, and a hidden door swung open to reveal a smartly dressed man in predominantly black with a crisp white shirt. Bowing gracefully to the mayor, he was instructed, "Please show the magician to one of the guest rooms." As the servant moved toward me, Alea suddenly intercepted with determined urgency.

"Let me talk to this Barad`Ellil by myself for a while," she declared to the butler with a dismissive gesture. He nodded silently and withdrew, leaving the two of us momentarily isolated from the group. The angry elf drew near, her presence a mixture of intimate closeness and palpable fear. Standing just a few meters away, she pulled herself up to her full, elegant height. Clad in a long, formal black dress and crowned with a delicate wreath of flowers—as if she were of a royal lineage—she cut an imposing figure. Despite her refined beauty, the look of loathing in her eyes struck me sharply, a bitter contrast to her earlier haughty demeanor. If all elven women bore such grace, perhaps I should one day visit their courts—though I hoped not all would despise me as fiercely as this one.

At last, she met my eyes for the first time since entering the room. Her gaze was a storm of fear mixed with a trace of desire, her lower lip trembling as she whispered, "You're Barad Ellil of the Valkin. These idiots may trust you, but I do not." With that, she turned sharply as if to leave, only to pause and, with a fierce whisper, add, "I will never be yours!" I attempted to counter her with an innocent expression, though inwardly I puzzled over the mystery of her anger and the significance of the names she had uttered—Barad Ellil and Valkin. As she strode away, her shoulders shaking with restrained emotion, I turned to the butler, who wore an expression of feigned nonchalance despite his obvious eavesdropping.

Smiling, I requested, "I'm ready for you to escort me to my room now." Nodding, he led me through a side door and out into a quaint courtyard. The space was dominated by a softly trickling fountain, its sound a gentle counterpoint to the distant hum of the inn. Opposite the fountain stood an elegant manor house with a thatched roof and delicate windowpanes arranged in diamond patterns, framed by creeping vines that whispered secrets of times long past.

Inside the manor, opulence unfolded before me—a world of magical lamps casting a warm glow on an exquisite red carpet, and furniture so finely crafted that each piece spoke of wealth and history. The butler guided me up a polished wooden staircase to a second-floor corridor lined with rich wood paneling and ornate artwork set in alcoves. Statues reminiscent of the ancient Greek gods watched silently as I passed, stirring in me a quiet wonder about the beliefs and legends that permeated this world.

At the end of the corridor, he opened a doorway to reveal a spacious room furnished with several plush couches and a desk adorned with writing implements near a luminous window. Adjacent to it, a door led into a bedroom featuring a lavishly comfortable bed that beckoned with promises of rest. Clearing his throat, the butler inquired, "The mayor has ordered some travel clothes to be made for you. Do you have any preference in style?"

"Just keep it simple but well-made," I replied, my voice carrying the subtle weight of a man determined to appear ordinary—an image befitting the secret might I wished to cultivate. The butler measured me with meticulous care before excusing himself, leaving me to explore the well-appointed room. The disparity between the lifestyles of the affluent and the common folk was stark and unmistakable—a truth I was only beginning to grasp in this wondrous yet challenging world.

With no possessions to unpack, I freshened up using the jug of water provided, noting the humble presence of a night pot and a washbasin—a modest luxury compared to the scarcity I had known before. In one of the neatly arranged cupboards, I found a set of night clothes and dressed for bed. For the remainder of the evening, by the flickering glow of magical lights, I practiced my spells—the delicate incantations of a magical shield and the crackling sparks of fire magic filled the room with both warmth and a hint of danger. I also pored over my spellbook, determined to master these arts, for I was in a hurry to at least get better at something.