Magician's Journey:

Chapter 8

Thomas focused carefully, guiding his staff as it gently carried him back down onto the ground.
“Thank you for the help, winds.” Thomas stepped off of his staff, placing it away in his bag as he spoke. “Thank you as well, old friend. I know you do most of the work.”
Thomas quickly checked to make sure Pallo was by his side, then gave his surroundings a cursory examination. In front of him was a large stone brick wall with an arching passage through. There was an iron portcullis protruding from the upper sections of the archway, but its rusty appearance and the unarmed guard sleeping below it implied it hadn’t been needed for generations. The faint sound of music wandered out from the other side of the walls, it’s paradoxically relaxing and energetic melody signaling a late night at the tavern.
“Hello there, traveler! You’re a magician, right?”
Apparently the guard wasn’t as asleep as Thomas had thought. “Why would you think that?”
The guard chuckled. “Definitely a magician. There maybe hunters that can tame wolves, and weirdos carrying bags stuffed to the brim with junk, but only a magician would think they could pass off as normal looking like you.”
Thomas frowned. “Do I really look that strange?”
“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean it as an insult.” The guard stretched his limbs out, then let his body slump back down. “Anyway, don’t worry about the toll, and I won’t let anyone know you’re here before you’ve gotten a chance to rest either. Just make sure and let me know when you set up shop. Our local guy might be a master, but he ain’t good for much. Us guards are real short on good salves, and me ma needs a better pill for her bad back than what we’ve got.”
Thomas nodded. “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t make any promises. I’m just barely a journeyman.”
The guard waved dismissively. “Don’t worry about it… Still more than I can do.”
“I see. Thank you very much.” Thomas waved politely, then entered into the city. Now that he’d arrived, he needed to find a place to sleep. Perhaps on top of some building? There shouldn’t be any rain, and he’d brought a bedroll, so he didn’t really need a roof over his-
A shadow flitted across the rooftops, pausing briefly to glare at Thomas with glowing red eyes, then dashing off into the night.
“Well now, Pallo. What do you think that was?”
<I don’t know Thomas, but I don’t like it.>

 

A note from the author ninja:

What’s this? Are things starting to get serious? I doubt it.

Magician’s are healers, not killers, and there’s a good reason for that.

On a different note, magicians seem to be well liked among the common folk. In fact, magicians seem to be well liked by almost everyone.

Well, magic is fundamentally just making friends with nature, so maybe that has something to do with it?

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