It had been a lonely night with mediocre sleep. Wish had finally gotten her own apartment but was unprepared for the continual ambiance from others neighboring her dwelling. Footsteps in the night, sometimes above as someone rises, others across as another tenant passes outside her door. Voices of children echoed with highs and lows of emotion. Scents of all assortment drifted between poorly constructed walls. The thin drapes did little to obstruct the light of a nearby manalight from illuminating her room. Wish hadn’t realized how much she had enjoyed her bedroom and the quality of her family’s estate. She was still glad to finally be out on her own, but the transition had been different than anticipated.
She walked on to The Shelf, looking to be somewhere familiar and which hopefully smelled less of questionable fumes than her new bedroom. She hoped to find some cinnamon on the way back tonight to help distract her nose. The fog had rolled in from the southern bean fields, and a light rain drizzled. It had not helped raise her spirits as she walked the district.
Wish wanted to read through the spellbook today. It had remained elusive during her last visit. Every time she had awoken in the night she had found herself thinking about what she read on its pages. She had thought through dozens of places to check for it and had a planned list of runes she wished to study again. Wish’s hand reflexively reached for her satchel to feel for her note pad in which she had been replicating runes as best as she could remember. Her mind’s eye played out the memory of the one she had worked on before bed, one which altered the caster’s visibility. She hadn’t been sure if it was correct and wondered how closely she had managed to replicate it. She nearly ran into a courier and stepped aside, then looked around realizing she had passed the alley entrance by a few storefronts. Wish doubled back and walked past the alley sign, which passively wicked water off of its surface with a nearly undetectable enchantment. She paused to look at it, noticing for the first time where the runes were written in wax. She had read in the spellbook about how to keep runes discrete and unobtrusive. She wondered if this was just a further practice of that particular section for the sake of a presentable sign, or to avoid unwanted attention of city officials. Wish had noticed that the Captain of the Guard seemed to have no issues with the tavern, so she could only assume that The Barkeeper had all the needed permits and licenses, somehow. She sighed. That was one of the biggest problems currently in her life. It was time she needed to begin focusing on what profession she wanted to pursue. She had dreamed of using magic to help others ever since she was a child, but that dream had been locked away behind regulations and mandatory service records when the Telas had taken power. The majority of mages were now seen as government tools more than public servants.
Wish reached the tavern door. She knew just inside was secluded nook where she had been learning about magic. Magic which was not being taught from an expensive college, or guided by a properly appointed teacher. She shrugged, knowing that she was capable to learn well on her own. Then reason set in and identified the problem. She was becoming a rogue mage. Her hand rested on the door handle, waiting for her mind to condemn her newfound hobby. Rogue mages were anyone the crown found guilty of unregulated and unreported magical skill or talent. Such people who were discovered either vanished or were publically eliminated by one of the Emperor’s assassins. Wish shook her head. She was only reading a book, she wasn’t doing anything illegal.
Right?
Wish pushed open the door. Immediately inside, Mr. Ortemyre stood with The Barkeeper, the two of them watching Elliot play with a… uh, a dog… maybe? Mr. Ortemyre turned enough to take notice of her and seemed to slack his shoulder slightly as if parting from a tense exchange. He looked back at The Barkeeper saying, “We’ll discuss this at another time.”
The Barkeeper inclined his head.
“Surely.”
Wish wondered if she had disturbed anything important and regretted not dwelling over her problems outside for a moment longer. Ortemyre acknowledged her again and gave a forced smile for a brief moment before stalking towards his seat. He paused at the closest point with the animal before reaching the corner of the room. When he finally sat his face was set with quite a scowl as he set out his latest cotton project. The Barkeeper stood unphased as ever with his unyielding expression of mild pleasantness.
“Magic can so easily be misunderstood, don’t you agree Miss Wish?” He said.
Wish”s eyes stopped searching shelves for the spellbook and met The Barkeeper’s gaze.
“Yes,…yes it can,” she whispered in reply. The barkeeper nodded and then vanished. Wish walked quietly to her table only to find the spellbook waiting for her. She looked back to see if The Barkeeper had known, but instead only found Ortemyre regarding her overtop of a partially knit mitten. Wish turned her back on him and slid down into her bench. She sat wondering what all it meant until the closed spellbook fluttered its pages to catch her attention. Wish reached up and embraced the book. She couldn’t wait longer than a breath before resting it back on the table and opening it. At once she was lost in the details within its pages without worrying her mind with the possibility of consequence.