Chapter 7: Cooking and Casting (Patreon)

Minor changes upon the previous chapter.

Big thanks to our local fiend for its assistance. Your collective souls were a small price to pay.

Alaric

Despite nearly swallowing an entire damn tooth last night I woke up with a pep in my step and an eagerness to face the day, practically hopping on my way to the main room of the cottage.

Finally, I would crack open the fantasy that was magic!

Even Sabitha’s squinting glare waiting for me there failed to take me out of it. “Finally up, are ye boy? Fetch the willow’s bark. We are making bone mending potions today.”

Despite my immediate grumbling she insisted I get to it and began instructing me through every single step of preparing the potion, which was in and of itself unusual as most of the time I was merely there to observe and only rarely got to work by myself, excepting some of the simplest and least involved recipes.

The reason behind the annoying crone’s actions revealed itself half an hour into the brewing session as I was rhythmically stirring the cauldron in a clockwise manner, I felt a tug at the place that was in my chest and not get pulled into the concoction and nearly stopped my stirring because of it.

“Felt that, did you?” Sabitha caught on instantly. “Good. Stir for a sandglass longer and leave it to cool.”

The tugging intensified as I listened to her instructions and by the time I was done, I felt almost fatigued by the simple action, a light sheen of sweat forming on my palms despite the minimal physical effort.

“What was that?” I asked as soon as I was sure the batch wasn’t going to go to waste.

“Proper potioncraft boy.” Sabitha answered and walked up to the cauldron, taking a short sniff and shaking her head, the cauldron suddenly levitating to the window and promptly throwing the contents into our back yard.

“Oi!” I called, irritated.

“You fucked it up, boy.” She sniffs. “Put too much power into it, would have made the bones grow too uncontrollably even with a drop.”

“It’s not like someone felt like warning me about it.” I complained but quickly caught onto the point. “So that’s today’s lesson then?”

“Aye.” She nodded quickly. “Potioncraft is my field, so that’s what we will be focusing on until you go to that fancy castle up north.”

“But what about spells?” I most assuredly did not whine. “Come on, I’ve been brewing for years, at least show me how to do something more direct!”

“Hah!” She barks a laugh. “Boy imprints an innate sorcery and wants ‘direct’ spells a day later, oh if only those fools heard about it today.”

I squinted at her.

“You want to cast spells, do you?” She looks down at me. “Fine, sit your ass down on the ground.”

Too curious to complain further I do as I am asked.

“Remember the feeling of using your sorcery?” She asks as I get down.

“Yep.” I nod. “And the tugging while brewing too.”

“Good.” She waves at me to go on. “Try reaching for it without doing anything.”

I do so, closing my eyes and searching for a good while, getting absolutely nothing until I felt frustration start to bubble up, and the slight tugging of power alongside it.

“Good.” Sabitha’s voice centers me. “Now guide it to your hand, extend it, and command it to form light, loudly and clearly!”

Slowly extending my arm, I feel the sensation grow somewhat more sluggish as it follows the unfamiliar path but still manage to bend it to my will, pushing it into my hand and finally shouting loud enough for my voice to catch; “Alight!”

Opening my eyes as I felt something stir, I was treated with the sight of a few bright sparks dancing around my hand before I felt the sensation of magical fatigue wash over me almost as hard as a whole half hour of brewing did, and the sparks disappeared.

Seeing me looking at my hand disbelievingly, Sabitha began to cackle.

“That, boy is why I don’t want to waste my time on spells.” She speaks up after having her fun. “You are too weak for proper casting, least until you get your focus.”

I barely even registered her words, still fascinated by the fact I did real actual magic.

“Oh don’t be so down.” The old crone huffs lightly. “You are no weaker than any other child out there.” Seeing me not responding she grows worried. “Alaric, are you well?”

I blink and look up with a massive smile on my face. “I’m great. Finally got something to practice with!”

She stares at me blankly for a long moment.

“Of course that’s how you take it.” She sighs fondly. “Fine, but only after you are done with your brewing!”

“Yeah, yeah.” I mutter, agreeing that working while exhausting myself with magic marathoning was in no one’s interest. “By the way, how were you planning on teaching me potion craft if I didn’t awaken magic properly?”

“Hm?” She blinked before answering flippantly. “Oh, there are sigil schemes for gathering power, one for each and every potion of course, can’t be unbalancing the process with raw power.”

It took me a moment to process that, and I quickly thanked everything holy and otherwise I didn’t ever have to deal with learning that.

-

This sort of work pretty much defined the following week.

 I’d get up early in the morning, and Sabitha would have me brew the bone mending potion over and over again, spilling the produce every single time before telling me exactly where I went wrong and having me go through it again.

When it wasn’t time for me to do my usual chores at least. The firewood wasn’t going to chop itself.

Naturally, I wasn’t going to spend my little free time on anything other than magical practice, and so despite the crone’s amusement and likely expectation I’d give up sooner rather than later I began the infinite grind of power, as any real man ought.

Looking for easy power was pointless, even Sabitha was forthcoming there and explained that while need and desperation allowed one to do something as ridiculous as blasting the Gnasher into pieces despite being a child, it still did damage to the unprepared body and was in no way reliable.

She wasted no time in pointing out how lucky I was she was the one taking care of me, the smug old hag.

And so instead I searched for efficiency, doing my utmost to reach for my magic faster, make it flow more smoothly, and trying to control the lights I summoned as much as I could.

I was obviously tempted to do something like summoning flames using my knowledge of the physical process, but something told me a whack on the head would be the least of my worries if I went for that, and so I chose to be patient instead of burning myself like an actual child would.

Still got myself smacked a few times due to staying up late and shouting in the middle of the night though, but that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

It was Saturday evening that found me still stirring that damned potion formula, feeling incredibly frustrated with the constant sight of the fruit of my work getting literally tossed out of the window.

I watched the hourglass for the exact timing but mostly focused inwardly for the feeling of magic being pulled, and then just at the edge of that sense I suddenly felt the magic shift, going into equilibrium with the ingredients below, an equilibrium that was slowly getting broken the longer I kept at it.

Trusting the feeling, I pulled the ladle back ten seconds earlier than usual and moved the cauldron from the fire, looking at the damn crone with half lidded eyes. “Really?”

She looked beyond smug now, with her hands on her hips and a big toothy smile on her face. “Good, you aren’t completely useless.”

“Woman, I will smack you.” I raise my ladle threateningly, but she doesn’t so much as blink.

“You can bottle the potion up; it’s yours to sell or use as you will.” Her smile is almost proud as she says this. “I’m going to bed now, watching you work was tiring.”

She leaves before I can get another word in, leaving me with no outlet for my childish irritation save to get to work and bottle the valuable liquid up. One look was more than enough to realize the result was different now, as the color was a pure milky white instead of the previous black streaked brown.

I knew exactly who would be getting my first batch, and for free as well-

Wait.

Sabitha you cheeky fucker…

-

“““Whoa!!!””” The three kids gasped as I did my eye trick, well away from any parents that might get disturbed by it of course.

“Pretty great, right?” I asked with a smirk.

“It is.” Patt agrees hesitantly. “Freaky too.”

Welt nods along with him.

Mikel looks downright crushed though, kicking the dirt dejectedly. “I want cat eyes too.”

“Maybe one day.” I chuckle.

“We sure Bert is coming today?” Welt asks after a moment. “You said he got a nasty wound during the hunt. Could be he decided to stay home.”

“He’d have asked someone to tell us.” Patt shakes his head. “He’s not one to shirk his duty without a word.”

“Maybe we should go and look for him?” I ask, feeling a bit worried myself now.

We’d just about agreed to do it when the man in question trudged over to the training ground, leaning against a thick cane for each step he took. “Kind of you to worry, children. But I’m fine.” He smiled at the other three and offered a short nod to me in turn.

“If you are fine then I’m His Royal Highness the King.” I quipped and pulled out a glass vial, offering it to him and saying. “For your leg.”

The kids immediately started muttering between themselves.

Bertram shuffled over to me and looked down at the bottle like he’d seen a bar of gold. “She… uh. She agreed to make one?” He licked his lips nervously. “I’m not sure I can pay for this Alaric.”

Rolling my eyes, I shoved the potion into his free hand and made him grasp it. “Oh, get off your high horse, Bert. I brewed this myself. And I’m giving it to you.”

He licked his lips again, looking all kinds of hesitant. “Look, Alaric. I can’t accept this. It’s worth much more than you think.”

“And it’s mine.” I shrug before giving him a stern look. “Take the damned drink Bert and down it before you go to bed or by God, I will force it down your throat myself.”

He looks a bit annoyed at my demand and hesitates for a few seconds longer, but the lure of a cure is a powerful thing, and he hesitantly takes the vial, securing it firmly in his coin pouch and giving me a grateful nod. “I won’t forget this, Alaric.”

“That is up to you.” I shrug cheekily.

He grumbles something before clapping his free hand against his chest. “Enough dawdling children, fetch your bows and get ready, we’ve training to get to.”

The next few hours passed with the familiar strain of archery practice, and I quickly noticed that I could go on loosing arrows for even longer than before, considerably longer.

Magic it seemed, was all kinds of neat!

Naturally the other kids complained about the unfairness of it all but got bored of that after a while and instead decided to pester Bert to tell them about the Gnasher hunt since I’d grown tired after the third embellished retelling.

I’d even added variations for them to notice but nope, no one caught anything!

Sigh.

Soon enough the sun began to dip, and we were shooed away from the practice grounds as the grown men took their turn.

The other kids pestered me for another retelling before they went on their way to cause mischief and I went to the church.

Though not before Bertram apologized profusely for not holding his end of the bargain and giving me some melee training, like I’d judge him for being unable to with his leg.

I didn’t bother hiding my weirdness as I approached Father Samuel in his usual spot in the small church garden.

I needed to find out how the wider world would treat me for my magic, and the young priest seemed like the perfect person to inform me.

Well, as long as he wasn’t a hidden witch burner. That would be rather awkward.