Chapter 6: Magic and Truth (Patreon)

Apparently Patreon saw fit to auto censor the world "Bastard" in the comments. I've disabled the setting (I think) but it isn't letting me un-censor those comments so unfortunately those are going to be lost forever.

Hopefully they don't end up censoring my own stuff at some point considering the filth I tend to spew lol

Anywho, onto less fun topics:

Much like the previous one, this week utterly sucked for me, though thankfully it was less due to an issue of inspiration and more of just me having an incredibly shitty sleeping schedule and dealing with bouts of insomnia and all the fatigue that followed.

All in all a cocktail of fuck me in particular because why the hell not?

I think I just about managed to fix it but I am still feeling a bit of a daze so this will be the only Volition chapter for this week. I was hoping to write another later in a few hours but that seems like a terrible idea if I want to sleep before the sun rises in the morning, so as always pls no lynch, I will be back in the writing mines soon enough :P

Alaric

My fingers tapped the old wooden table as the night’s events relentlessly replayed in my mind’s eye, both the adventure and the blood and death.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Sabitha’s annoyed question cut through those thoughts.

“Oh.” I blinked, realizing the unnaturally green lentil soup under me was already going cold, and quickly made my excuse. “I already ate back at the camp.”

It has been about half an hour since I came back, and after having a quick wash and a change of clothes, I’d pretty much been shoved at the table and told to consume by the relieved crone.

She squinted at me. “I don’t care. Eat.”

I squinted back but she didn’t look like she would be backing down anytime soon, and so after keeping the staredown going just long enough as to not surrender too quickly I grumbled and got to work devouring the food.

I was only somewhat surprised when I fell my aches dull with each bite.

“Hmph.”

My eyes narrowed. “You say something?”

“You are being awfully cocky for someone who almost got flattened by overgrown livestock.” She said dryly.

The usual response died in my throat as I sighed. “Better than being all terrified about it.”

“Suppose it is.” She allowed with a grumble. “Tell me about it.”

“Tell you what exactly?” I asked. “It isn’t a short story.”

“Everything.”

And so I did.

She let me talk for a while, only making annoyed noises at any mention of anything dangerous but not interrupting me.

At least not until I got to the part where something tried hitting me with the ole’ Fae catfish.

If she was a bit pissed when Bertram came over to grab me, then she was absolutely livid now.

How did I know if she didn’t suddenly go all monster on me?

She turned deathly silent and when she spoke her usual crotchety tone was nowhere to be found. “She did, did she?”

“Who is this ‘she’?” I asked immediately.

“Not your concern.” She said, and for once I didn’t feel like pressing her. “Finish your story.”

And so I did, recalling the rest of mine and Charles’ flight, the confrontation near the great willow, and our involuntary return to the battle.

“I see. I see…” Grandmother muttered darkly. “It seems like I will need to remind the pests of the pecking order.”

Knowing she wasn’t about to elaborate and satisfied with whichever cunt tried playing games with me potentially getting their due, I asked something else. “What about the willow?”

She waved a flippant hand. “It is an old spirit, peaceful and kindly, she doesn’t meddle. Ever.”

“Well, I for one really appreciate she broke custom.” I shrugged.

“Yes…” Sabitha tapped the table and said nothing else.

“Right.” I grunted in annoyance at her vagueness. “There is still a bit left to tell.”

She perked up and I went on to tell her about the magic.

“Finally awakened, have you?” She laughed slightly. “About damn time I reckon.”

“Could have probably done it whole lot sooner if you weren’t so damn fishy about it but here we are.” I grumbled.

“Lay off it brat.” She scoffs. “Magic doesn’t wake on a whim. She either finds you worthy or doesn’t, and I wasn’t about to listen to you bitch and moan for a lifetime if you got unlucky.”

“Truly, you are the picture of familial support.” I drawled.

She flicked my forehead so lightly I barely felt it. “You are a century too young to be sarcastic with me boy.” She smirked. “And it wasn’t like we were wasting time either. You are a passable potioneer, even if it’s just barely.”

“That is true.” I admitted reluctantly before my face brightened. “Anyway, check this out!”

I focused on my eyes and my sight sharpened.

Sabitha didn’t seem terribly impressed by my first ‘spell’ though, merely grunting a: “Hmph. Lucky brat.”

“Care to tell me why I can do that?” I asked.

“We’ll start your lessons soon.” She waves me down but seeing my irritation she scoffs and explains: “The waking of magic is a powerful moment, and you’ve been channeling bits of it already whenever you took or brewed the elixir. It is a part of you now. Imprinted in a way.”

“Already channeling? A bit counter to your earlier words.” I point out.

“There are levels to it.” Is all she says about it.

“Right.” I grunted in annoyance at her constant caginess. “Well, at least I can spend magic instead of silver whenever I go hunting now. Getting the booze for Cat every other week was cutting into my savings.”

She gave me a vaguely disgusted look at that. “You don’t ‘spend’ magic, ever. What manner of dullard told you this?”

“No one?” I responded cheekily. “It is almost as if I have had absolutely no useful information about it given to me and am making it up as I go.”

“Fie!” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, very well. Listen up and listen well, I will not repeat myself.”

I immediately perked up and focused.

“Your magic isn’t some ‘bottle’ for you to fill up and empty as you will. It is a force bound to your soul, your counterweight against the world.” She lectured seriously; “Using it will take effort and will tire you out like any other work but it will never be ‘spent’. The more you grow it the less effort it will take until you become a force in your own right.”

That is…

Hm.

So the magic system was based on a ‘metaphysical weight’ of some kind instead of mana. I could work with that.

“Grow it.” I repeated. “The way you said it its almost as if you claim I will be growing my own soul.”

“Would you look at that, he can listen!” She cackles.

“Hag.”

Naturally, she is far too smug to even register the insult.

“How do I go about growing it anyway?” I ask after a moment.

“By growing.” She smirks, showing off her crooked teeth.

“Very informative.” I deadpan.

It tracked.

“You think I joke but it is the honest truth.” She shakes her head. “Learn more, do more, be more, and greater magick will follow suit. It is simple.”

‘Simple but not easy.’ I finish internally. “Fine. I’ll remember.”

“You better.” She wags her finger at me. “As I said-“

“You won’t repeat yourself, yes.” I rolled my eyes. “I guess I can always refresh it when I get to Hogwarts.”

She stills ever so briefly. “How do you know about that place?”

“Sir Alfred was kind enough to inform me about my obligations.” I inform her neutrally.

Her eyes flash with anger but it dies out just as quickly as she sees me staring at her seriously. She looks away for a moment, going to speak a few times before stopping herself, ultimately she settled on: “And how do you plan on paying for it brat? What did that cur promise you?”

“Sir Alfred.” I said and oh how it seemed to irritate her that I was in any way respectful to him. “Was gracious enough to sponsor me after I saved his son from certain death. You know, the one who looks almost exactly the same as me.”

Her eyes turn distant and I could almost swear I heard a tremor in her voice as she asked: “What exactly are you trying to say, Alaric?”

“Father Samuel was generous enough to instruct me in numbers, godmother.” I tell her without any levity. “I am no fool, and I would appreciate it if you stopped treating me as one.”

“What could a damned childe know about not being the fool?!” She spat weakly.

“Enough to unsettle you.” I flippantly waved my hand at her. “Evidently.”

Her breath caught and she deflated, staring off into the nearby wall without saying anything for a good minute.

I remained silent as well but made sure to keep looking at her expectantly.

“Very well. Very well…” She sighed. “T’was a decade ago when he came to me… He was a young man then, strong and furious, and missing a name. He wished me to bargain for its return.”

Oh good, Fae fuckery abounds!

Her eyes darkened. “I could do it with ease, I hold many favors among those who trade in names still, but so young and furious was Sir Alfred that he forgot his manners under my roof. I grew angry myself and demanded the highest price I could ask, his firstborn.”

“Ah.”

“Please, let me finish.” She asked weakly.

I did not interrupt.

“In his desperation he accepted my price, and I took his name from the faery of the hunt that still accosts him to this day, returning it to him as agreed.” She looks away again. “But his love for his wife was great, and now that she knew him again he did not want to take her child away from her. And so he lay with his servants-“

“Resulting in me.” I finished dully.

There was simply no other answer.

“Yes.” She exhales.

“And what of my mother?” I asked after a moment.

“She gave you up believing you would be raised in the castle.” Sabitha told me, looking genuinely regretful about it. “Once she learned what happened she left, never to be seen again.”

“Well at least she isn’t dead.” I sighed. “Is this why the two of you hate each other?”

“Not in full.” She shakes her head, looking almost like she was expecting me to go ballistic at the revelation but continuing as I remained calm. “The knight paid his dues and went on his way. But then a year later his wife died at childbirth, and he accused me of cursing her, thinking I was not satisfied with his price.”  Her face twists. “As if I had any need of a childe in the first place!”

“I mean…” I mutter awkwardly. “You could have always just changed the price if it bothered you that much.”

It wasn’t like I was particularly shaken by my ‘noble life’ being stolen from me. The way she told it, it seemed the only reason I was alive at all was because the cunt needed a child to sacrifice for his own gain.

And a cynical part of me was almost grateful I didn’t have to deal with parents in this life. Such lies drained the soul.

Really after everything I went through the only detail that truly unsettled me was all the Fae fuckery going around. That stuff was terrifying!

“A bargain was made.” The practitioner of said fuckery bluntly informed me. “And despite his foolish claims he made no action against me save for his slander. And that is why my doors are forever closed to him and his.”

“So uh…” I rubbed my cheek. “What exactly are you then?”

She blinked in surprise. “That is your question?!”

“I mean-“ I went to shrug.

“Out of everything you could say, you do not curse me, you do not accuse me, you ask me what manner of creature I am?!” She throws her hands up.

“Well uh…” I lick the inside of my lips. “Should I be angry about not being raised by a man willing to sell his own child? Or a man willing to bring his young heir to a deadly battlefield without a care for the risks?”

Each word I say just seems to baffle her more and more, leaving her mouth hanging open and her chin doing its best to touch the table despite the distances involved.

I kept on going. “Really the only thing that concerns me here is whether you are some freak planning on eating me when I am nice and fat enough, or just a dumbass who thought raising a child would be anything other than a chore.”

A few seconds of dead silence pass.

“No, I don’t plan on eating you, childe.” She says in a completely dead tone, somehow looking both relieved and utterly done with life. “I am a healer and a teacher, not some damnable hag from the Teutoburg!”

“Alright?” I tilt my head. “No need to get so worked up.”

“Worked up?!” She snaps and forcefully calms herself down. “What did I ever do to deserve this kind of disrespect?”

“You asked for it.” I deadpan. “Literally.”

Her face twitches and she raises a finger before clutching it into a fist in annoyance and biting down on her words, muttering a string of curses to herself before going silent.

Another awkward silence settled between us for a while before Sabitha broke it, her voice once more a hesitant and almost pleading thing. “You… do not hate me then?”

“Hate?” I ask dryly. “Woman you have given me everything I ever needed and more, I am not that ungrateful.”

My words make her startle before she quickly looks away and a disturbingly pleased smile twists on her face. “Go to bed.” She tells me. “There is much to learn tomorrow, and I am not teaching you half asleep.”

I go to speak but she waves me off. “Shoo, off with ye.”

Staring at her blankly, I pull out the letter and place it on the table. “Sir Alfred told me to give you this.”

But she doesn’t seem to hear me, and so with an eyeroll, I walk out of the kitchen/brewing room and to my tiny private room with my warm straw cot and fur blankets.

The comfy embrace of medieval furniture nearly knocks me out the moment I roll over it, but deeply seeded traumas of waking up with my face clogged and my back in pain had me covering myself properly and taking proper posture despite my exhaustion.

Thoroughly jostled by the effort I was just about to start falling asleep when I felt something in my mouth loosen and felt one of my cracked teeth get pushed out by a fresh growth.

Straight down into my mouth.

Motherfu-