“I’m glad you have something stealthy,” Penelope said, clapping her hands after Lukas demonstrated the Shade’s Mantle. “If I were you, I would’ve picked an upgrade or essence more in theme with Inspector’s Compendium, but I suppose sneaking around so you can use it more and without worry is just as vital.” She reached across the dining table, took his hand, and squeezed it. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Lukas said, withdrawing his hand and the shadows wrapped around his coat. They disappeared under the garment. Only creation, reshaping, and manipulating consumed magic, and the act barely put a noticeable dent in his stores. “Honestly, I didn’t expect to get something so different from the base shard ability. I expected my options to be mostly related to making Inspector’s Compendium more powerful, detailed, or magic-efficient. The base ability only got a few more daily charges, and the cost was slightly reduced.”

“Sometimes that’s all you need for a utility shard ability. You usually only get direct upgrades when the essence in question is super closely related to the shard. The spectrum of possibility grows after the first tier or two, and then you can focus on upgrading the abilities related to the pillar. Essence of Shadow was a good pick, as was the mantle. You can use darkness, fabric, stealth, silence, and a bunch of other concepts for future upgrades and don’t have to diversify further.”

“Makes sense.” Lukas nodded. “I meant more that I wasn’t expecting the minor or side abilities at all. It just made more sense in my head to think the core shard ability will grow significantly more potent.”

“Well, the theory states that each tier of our magic system is twice as powerful as the last,” Penelope explained. “When potency can’t directly be doubled, or it's not enough power scaling, you need side abilities to make up the difference. So, more information, charges, cost, or whatever else you got wasn’t probably enough and didn’t use up all of the Essence of Shadow’s power.”

“That makes more sense. Because it didn’t feel like there was an all-encompassing system or god measuring the power scaling of the ability or its progress and deciding that something isn’t enough and providing a leg up. Right?”

“Not as far as I’m aware.” Penelope shrugged. “I’m no expert on the matter. Much smarter mages and scholars than me have explored the subject extensively. All mortals have the potential for ascension. It's how you begin that defines the path. Or so I’d like to think. In the old argument of what came first—the Pillars of Self or the Shards of Power—I favor the Shard. Mages, archmages, wizards, and sorcerors exist on realms without shards, after all.”

“Speaking of research and scholars, there is something we need to discuss.” Lukas looked around the room. Penelope wanted to dine in her room, and it was significantly larger than his. In fact, Lukas was almost sure she had a suite. “Where is Bass?”

“A snow tigress at the college caught his eye.” A buttery croissant-like pastry from the city’s center had her attention. She paid extra to have some brought in every morning. The sorcerer ripped off a corner and dipped it in her frothy, spiced milk tea. “He’s been wanting to show off his mane and wings to her for quite some time. I told him he could go as long as he delivered a couple of scrolls for me. I also told him to watch the secret port.”

“Have you seen anything useful there yet?”

“You were right about the slave trade, but we haven’t found anything related to our work in the undercity,” Penelope answered, speaking with her mouthful. She spread a citrus preserve on the remainder of the ripped-open pastry. “I’ve sent word to the conclave since a lot of magic-rich individuals are getting trafficked. I also have a few hired eyes keeping watch for Wyrmkin, draconic energies, or related artifacts. I’m afraid I don’t have much else to share on that topic.”

“That’s not what I want to talk about.” Lukas fidgeted in his chair, trying to get more comfortable. It wasn’t that he was nervous. He just hadn’t yet figured out how to address the subject without jeopardizing his primary source of income. “There is a rat in your research team.”

Penelope froze, chunky preserve dripping from her pastry onto her fresh cream blouse. “What?”

“Do you know who the Grey Rats are?”

She nodded.

“They’ve approached me for a job. It requires the powers of Inspector’s Compendium, is risky, and the pay was too good for me to reject. And the only one who knows about my shard ability is you. The only place I’ve openly used it and discussed my findings is in your laboratory, with your assistants coming in and out of the room.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Mistery Grey specifically said that he heard about what I can do from his ‘ratlings’ in the research center,” Lukas interrupted. “Someone probably sold him the information.”

“Oh.” Penelope’s shoulders fell as she put down the pastry. She pushed her plate away and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. I wish you hadn’t accepted the job, though. What are the Grey Rats paying you?”

“Two essences to sign on. One shard for going on the job. Another for getting them what they want.”

“You do realize that they’re bad people engaged in the slave trade, right?”

Lukas nodded. “I thought it might also be a way for me to get information regarding how the draconic presences are entering the city. The Grey Rats are at the heart of Iskander’s biggest smuggling rings. If I find evidence to hurt the slaver’s ring along the way, that’s a big bonus.”

“Do I need to tell you that you’re taking a needlessly stupid risk?”

“Elvis claims my greed has no bounds. I’m starting to think he’s correct. Two shards and an essence, though.”

“I am responsible for this leak. You deserve compensation. What would you—”

“Actual magic lessons,” Lukas said. “And by that, I don’t mean the generic arcane focus, gathering, recovery, sensing, and whatever other exercise.” Lukas held out his right hand, and a piece of the mantle ripped itself away before slithering into his hands. It coiled into a wobbly sphere. The process took Lukas several seconds longer than it did an arcane specialized clone. “I want you to take some time every two, maybe three, nights and teach me how to use this properly.” Lukas threw the sphere at the door. It popped just before impact, creating a cloud of shadows. “It’s almost solid. Nearly tangible. I need help getting the rest of the way.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Penelope sighed, sitting back in her chair. Her staff floated off its resting place against the wall and floated into her hand. “Do you know why a mage’s casting tool is called a focus?” She continued without waiting for him to answer. “The more complicated or hard to understand a concept is, the more unpredictable things can get during intent-based casting. A focus’s job is to keep stray thoughts and other interference out. A focus need not be a physical object or thought. Mages often use hand gestures or incantations.”

She pushed her plate aside and traced her finger on the table, leaving a trail of azure light. “Skugga,” Lukas read it out loud.

“It’s the word for shadow.” Penelope rose from her chair and marched to a chest in the corner. She flipped a switch. It unfolded, revealing a mini-library. She browsed it for a second before pulling out a ratty, hard-bound text. Pages threatened to fall out, and the cover was frayed. “This is my old reference text. It has terms that’ll come in handy for putting together basic spells. There are pages missing, and my scribbles might make a good deal of it illegible, but go through whatever you can. The reason I’ve had you focusing on techniques is that all mages need a foundation. Your progress has been speedy and impressive, but you still have a long way to go.”

“This has seen some serious use,” Lukas commented, leafing through the pages.

“I haven’t touched it in twenty or thirty years. It helped me a fair bit when I was just starting to embrace my draconic heritage.”

Twenty or thirty years? Penelope doesn’t look her age either.

“I’ll make time for you later in the week. For now, absorb as much as you can. Get used to the mantle organically.” She headed for the door, the rest of breakfast and her beverage forgotten. “I need to head to the research center and get to the bottom of this ratling problem. We’ll catch up later.”

Then, she was gone. Lukas found himself alone in a sorcerer’s chambers with her personal library begging to be browsed. His budding arcane senses also detected several magical objects dotted around the room. They all tempted him, especially a text he recognized: Penelope’s ritual journal. He wanted it.

Lukas stood, turned on his heel, and marched out of the still-open door, pulling it closed behind him. He refused to risk his safety and good fortune by stealing from a sorcerer. For all he knew, Penelope had the means of tracking everything she owned. Or, Bass would follow its physical or magical scent to his room.

She’s been good to you. Don’t get self-destructive.

“How many pillars have you awakened?” The interviewer asked. Unlike the rest of the people working in the arcane smithy, he wore a formal suit. Rings of precious metal studded with even more precious stones occupied most of his fingers. If he was an artisan, too, it was clear that he hadn’t practiced his craft in a long time. “And don’t lie to me. I can tell.”

“Three,” Magic Elvis answered. “Soul. Body. Heart.”

“What do they do?”

“Do you want me to name and explain? I’d rather—”

“Of course not, you dolt.” The man sighed, shaking his head. “General ideas or minor demonstrations will do.”

Magic Elvis called forth the Shade’s Mantle. It seeped through his clothing and coated it. When he held out his hand, a piece broke free from the sleeve and shaped itself into a tight sphere. It was only solid and stable on the surface, but the interviewer didn’t need to know that.

“This is my Soul ability. At tier one, it only let me focus, gather, and somewhat manipulate magic. It recently ascended with an Essence of Shadow, and I can do this now.”

The interviewer raised an eyebrow, exchanging looks with the wiry, bespectacled man who stood with him. Unlike the interviewer, he wore simple trousers, a vest, and a heavy leather apron. Soot, scratches, and burn marks covered his outfit. “A tier-two Soul Pillar that’s focused on raw magic and now shadows? What are you doing here and not at the colleges?”

“I’m too poor to pay my way through them and too old to be considered a prodigy and get my tuition sponsored,” Magic Elvis replied, smiling sheepishly. “I’ve befriended a mage near Draper’s Alley. She’s been guiding me a few evenings a week in exchange for help around her clinic.”

“You talking about Esther?” The blacksmith asked.

Magic Elvis nodded.

“She’s the retired wizard.”

“Who?” The interviewer asked, scowling.

“The one who opened the magic beast clinic and keeps refusing to work for the city,” the blacksmith answered.

“Ah. The idiot. Yes. I know of her.” He gestured for the Magic Elvis to continue. “ What else?”

“I only just awakened my Body Pillar,” the clone continued, straight-faced and lying through his teeth. “It’s made me heavier and slower, but I’m significantly tougher and stronger than I look. Heart is the first pillar I awakened and close to tier three. It improves my endurance, helps me tolerate far more strain and exertion than the average shmo, and a full night’s sleep is all I need to recover from whatever I endure. Even most injuries heal without a trace. They’re all might useful for undercity trips, but I’d rather not pursue that full-time.”

“Why not?” The blacksmith frowned, crossing his arms. “Your shard abilities sound perfect for a vanguard.”

“That’s precisely why. All teams put me on the frontlines and think because of me, they can take on threats they wouldn’t otherwise dare to. My Heart ability heals injuries, but it still hurts like hell. The number of times I’ve almost died because my companions bit off more than they can chew is far too high.” Magic Elvis sighed dramatically. “I don’t have the stomach for all of the battle and the monsters.” He shuddered, pulling a disgusted face. “Creating is what I’d like to think I’m good at and where I excel. My old master mostly had me making billets out of scrap and creating basic knives and tools, but she said I picked things up quickly and I’m reliable—”

“Who is this old master? Why did you quit?”

“We lived in a small settlement near the Gray,” Magic Elvis answered. “She died in a Wyrmkin raid. I only survived because they didn’t bother finishing me off and left me in an open mass grave.”

The blacksmith’s expression softened. “Oh. Did you wake up all…”

Magic Elvis nodded, tapping his skull. “All healed for a gash on my skull, most of my memories gone, and the few people I remembered long dead.”

“My condolences. It sounds like—”

“A tall tale.” The interviewer snorted. “That’s what it sounds like. I don’t care about your sob story. The shard abilities, especially the magic, sound useful for our workshop. But none of it matters unless you have the skills.” He nodded at a pile of burnt, bent, and twisted metal. Magic Elvis spotted several warped blades, dented armored pieces, and cracked chunks of steel among them. “Make a billet and your best dagger with whatever you want in there. Hector will find you a corner to work without getting in the way. If your work is any good, we can discuss employment and prospective pay.”

“Sounds fair,” Magic Elvis said, beaming. “Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

The interviewer grunted before waving him away. There were a couple of other prospective hires waiting to be seen, and he waved one of them over.

They don’t seem as bad as everyone claims. Probably just scared of hard work.