The Classless Sorcerer's Self-Stealing System

Flecks of snow hung in the air of Frostwall, suspended in gentle freefall above the city—above the bobbing heads of tens of thousands of city-dwellers and visitors alike, each going about their business along the bustling throughfares with seemingly little-to-no concern for the impending turn of the weather.

Expectantly, Blychert followed his master north through the city, having left the Grey Pier, or so it was called by various passersby, with no more worry about the gathering clouds than the rest of the people around him. In truth, it was difficult to focus on something like the weather, when at the street level, everything Bly saw was so novel and overloaded on the senses.

The streets they walked were wide enough for at least a couple of dozen people to walk abreast, and yet it was nearly impossible to find the room necessary to do so comfortably, let alone pass one another.

Merchants and traders, sellers and swindlers, crafters, hagglers, sailors, and shipwrights… there was a little bit of everything, and everyone. Men in fine clothing, aristocratic types, walked the streets, while others in simpler linens and furs were much more common. Guardsmen donned the white and blue colors of Calvergia, who numbered highly amongst the crowded streets and plazas, and so too did non-humans curiously enough. Bly spotted an orcish man, tall and sinewy, juggling flaming daggers to a crowd of dotting children, not to mention their cautious parents. They passed three dwarves singing in a strange tone in the back of their throats, some foreign language that Bly was too slow to discern. He even saw an elven woman surely as old as the city itself, her wrinkles sagging and blotted, selling white rabbits out of the back of a broken-down cart.

It was far from the usual things Bly was used to seeing every day. But the people were not the only peculiar thing about Frostwall either.

Side streets and alleyways numbered beyond count, twisting and turning into unknown depths of the city like roots, which itself rose and dipped as if built upon unlevel land. There were food and beverage stalls, vendors selling bobbles and bits, and stores selling fishing gear, winter hats, and ornamental bronze figures. Though no two buildings were alike, but only if in stone and shingle coloration, all of them stood tall and seemed to close-in around the streets like towering trees, which gave an enchanting sensation overall, as if each one possessed a mystery unto itself. Some had pointy towers and minarets, others bore cruder angles and circular windows, while others still looked more like the simple, squared homes that Bly was used to back in Greygarde.

Warm lights filled homes and shop windows, and smoke rose from nearly every chimney. Heated lamps, no doubt magical devices themselves, sat on every other corner, at which many people seemed to stop and warm their faces or fingers at any given time. Wide plazas gave way to wide thoroughfares, interconnected by hundreds of narrow streets that really gave the impression of a maze, or an endless city at least.

Calvergia was a cold place, but it certainly wasn't lacking for style or intrigue.

"Do try and keep up, I say." Bartolo said over his shoulder, barely audible above the city soundscape, "We're almost there. Just through the Stone Ward, and we'll be on Vaulters Row in no time."

It was hard enough to try to take in all the sights at once, but Bartolo was really setting a mean pace suddenly.

Excusing himself momentarily for having stepped on someone's heel, Bly skirted to the right and stepped up alongside the older sorcerer. Furrowing his brow, he asked, "How come you know so much about Frostwall, anyway?"

"Hm? What was that?" Bartolo squinted, though it appeared he'd heard well enough, "Ah… I don't know that much, in truth. More than you, I suppose."

Bly rolled his eyes, "Isn't that a little obvious already?"

Bartolo chuckled to himself, "Had you managed to read any of my historical literature over the years, you might have learned quite a great deal about the rest of the world. As I recall, you were only ever interested in the thaumaturgical texts, though even that was a tenuous attempt. How very sorcerous of you…"

Well, he had Bly there.

Bartolo's tower had been filled to the brim with books and scrolls—more reading material than Bly could bother counting, much less bother reading. Sure, anything with magic piqued his interest, but he had always been more invested in the technical side of learning magic; it was more exciting to experiment with mana for yourself, after all, than to simply read about it. But that was beside the point, Bly really hadn't had much of a mind for history. Or at least, he hadn't cared back when it didn't seem like it would matter all that much.

Of course, present circumstances had begun to change his tune about the things he did and didn't know about the world. In some ways, he regretted not taking more advantage of his resourceful, albeit naïve uprising.

"Believe it or not, I wasn't always destined to be a scholar." Bartolo continued, as they turned left and started down yet another street. Bly wasn't sure he could even make it back to port on his own at the rate they were zigzagging across the city, it was far too many turns. Bartolo then said, "I spent some time here in Frostwall when I was a young man. They call it the city of frost and fable, you know."

"Why's that?" Bly asked. He got that it was cold, and it was called "Frostwall" but the fable part was a bit confusing.

Bartolo shrugged, "Lots of reasons, I suppose. But none more so relevant than the legend of the Triskelion: Calvergia's three great heroes. I'll take you to their monument tomorrow, if you remind me."

Great heroes, huh? Bly thought, liking the sound of that already.

"I lived in the Tower District for several years; that's outside the city limits on the north side. Anyway, I learned a fair amount about traditional Calvergian runecraft in that time, and thus quite a bit about the Triskelion and their deeds. Did you know, the wall surrounding this city is said to be imbued with the power of Calvergian heroes. I was a starry-eyed youth back then, just happy to soak it all in. Now those… those were good years, my boy. Simpler times."

"Is… this where you met my father?" Bly asked offhandedly, taking his shot at the subject matter. And why not?

"Met your—" Bartolo stammered. His eyes widened for a split-second thereafter, no doubt confused by the sudden inquiry, and he took a double glance at Bly. Squinting, he cleared his throat, and replied, "Hm. No, as matter of fact… it is not. Not sure why you've elected to bring him into all of this."

Bly smirked, "Would you care to explain? Master?"

With a weary sigh, Bartolo grumbled, "If you really must know at this precise moment, I met your father by chance many years later, long after I left Calvergia, in a land far to the west of here called Maelyr. I was on an expedition, as it happens, conducting research into the ancient tombs of the Spirit Dragons. Their positioning along vital ley line junctions has long been a mystery."

"My father was into that sort of thing?" Bly asked, genuinely curious. He'd never been much into ley lines himself, apart from general understanding about when and where he could draw upon them for power, but he could see why anyone would be. They were certainly fascinating and filled to the brim with limitless magical power… probably.

"Hah!" Bartolo exclaimed amusedly, "As surely as the sky is green. Garin was a brute—with a bicep for a brain, no less. Charming to boot, sure enough, and quite intelligent, and scholarly when he needed to be… but he loved the art of the sword, first and foremost, and for better or worse. That man loved—loves to adventure. I knew it the day I met him… he was destined for greater things. Things that certainly didn't involve the tedious toils of a magical scholar."

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"So, he was a swordsman…?" Bly mumbled to himself.

Maybe that's where he got his own spirit for adventure? The thrill of the fight, as it were. And what was all of that about being "destined" for greater things? Was his father some kind of great hero too or something?

Well, that just seemed too ridiculous when Bly thought about it a bit more.

"Of course, then he up and disappeared on us." Bartolo shook his head, "Foolish boy. You know, the last time I saw him he said—well, never mind any of that. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Huh?!" Bly gasped, but the old sorcerer didn't seem to budge. Blychert then pulled on his sleeve saying, "Hey? You can't just say something like that and then stop! Finish what you were going to say about him. Well? Was he some kind of an adventuring hero or what? You can just tell me."

"Now look, you should focus on yourself, Trelen. Not the past. You hear me?" Bartolo insisted, almost scoldingly, "I don't want any wily ideas out of you while we're here either. You're here to learn about what it takes to be part of a team—a real adventurer. Forget about your father and that lone wolf nonsense. He can't help you, anyway. If he could, he would have done so by now. I'm at least sure of that."

Bly stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, exasperated once again.

Alyse and Bartolo really did know things they weren't telling him, didn't they? It was so obvious after all the little interactions he'd had in trying to pry information out of the two of them. Were they just trying to protect him? Well, if that was the case, he didn't want it. He wanted the facts. And until he got a little more honesty out of his betters, there was no point telling either of them about his own troubles, about those visions…

He needed to find things out for himself, the hard way if necessary.

"Keep up!" Bartolo shouted from farther ahead.

With a reluctant scowl, Bly started after the old sorcerer.

One way or another, he was going to learn the truth.

"The Half Full Flagon"

Blychert lipread the hanging sign on mounted just on the frame of the establishment door with a curious smile, as he followed Bartolo inside.

The light of day was immediately replaced by the orange of hearth fire and sconced candles, as well as the deep shadows that clung to the blind spots, but the sound was no less muffled. The establishment ran deep, boasting high tabletops and stools, rows of upholstered booths, and a squared, wood-finished bar top where patrons could sit on three adjacent sides. The familiar scent of smoked drakeroot and dark ale permeated the tavern, and the sounds of laughter and dice echoed more than a few times, as Bartolo moved his way towards the clerk's podium.

"I'll be right back." Bartolo huffed, "Just going to settle some things. Why don't you find a seat for us? We'll get some supper."

Bly nodded wordlessly, turning towards the rest of the tavern.

He moved slowly down the nearest row of tables, closest to the bar, assessing faces and expressions as he went. Turning, he walked the length of the booths on the far wall for a short time. Turning, he walked back up the other way and proceeded down the row nearest to the street-facing windows, back towards where they'd originally come in.

It was… curious.

He'd been inside taverns and inns, and he'd seen people enjoying their time in such places before. But was there something else about this specifically? Maybe it was the fact that he still hadn't really wrapped his head around the sheer size of the city, and that it was somehow altering his perceptions of what everyday life in Frostwall was supposed to be like.

For all its grandeur and scale, people were still going to be people. Weren't they? They were still going to need a place to eat and drink, and a place to sit and make merry, and feel warm…

It was nice.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Bly at that moment, and so he gestured for a 'Detect Aura' spell to fire off. Amplifying it slightly to cover the entirety of the tavern floor, Bly felt the immediate twangs of energy course through him. His eyes glossed over, and he began to see the muted colorations of the Ether as they appeared before him.

But there were no auras, magic or otherwise.

Either those that had them were concealing themselves, like he often was, or these really were just ordinary folk.

A flash of light drew Blychert's attention suddenly. His gaze snapped towards the other side of the tavern, towards a booth in the corner that sat adjacent with the wall lined with windows overlooking the street beyond.

Bly's brow wrinkled unexpectedly.

He couldn't be sure, but it was almost as if someone else in that direction had also cast an aura-related spell. If his rudimentary training in divination magic was anything to go by, then the only way he could have seen a flash of that kind, whilst actively detecting auras, was if someone else had interacted with divination magic themselves.

In other words, it seemed that someone else had the same idea that he'd had. And anyway, there was only one other person sitting on that side of the tavern.

"Excuse… me?" Blychert asked. He was hardly content to stand by and do nothing. Besides, he could play at the naïve teenager just fine, "Sorry, I was wondering if you might be able to—"

Blychert paused in a midsentence.

The woman sitting at the table turned and glanced back at him, her expression neither here nor there. She was unquestionably beautiful though, with long black hair and eyes a rich color of red the like of which Bly had never seen before. Her clothing was of a simple kind, and only her heavy fur cloak spoke of any real value. However, her tunic sleeves were rolled up past her arms, and it was clear that she was much more muscular than one might have thought.

"Yes?" She asked plainly, her tone of voice quiet but authoritative, nonetheless, "How can I help you?"

"Oh, uhm…" Bly rubbed the back of his head, dropping his detection spell at the same time, "I was hoping you could give me some directions? Actually."

She closed her eyes for a second, before nodding wordlessly.

Sheesh. She's serious. Bly thought, wondering what the hell he'd even seen just a few moments ago was even real.

"Great. Thank you." Bly bowed his head slightly, and headed, "I'm actually looking for a place called Saint Hagen Priory? I guess… it's in the city somewhere. But Xan—I mean, my friend's directions are a little hard to read."

"Saint… Hagen…" The woman murmured, if but only to herself. She set her spoon aside a moment later, the bowl of soup only half-eaten on the table, and looked back up at Bly. Her expression was momentarily solemn, and she opened her mouth to speak, but someone else behind Bly interrupted.

"Trelen. Trelen!" Bartolo interjected, putting a hand on Bly's shoulder as he approached, "Oh—I am terribly sorry, miss."

The woman smiled faintly, and let out a small giggle, before replying, "It is quite alright. Are you his father?"

"Ah, well, uh…" Bartolo stammered, "Legal guardian, so to speak. We're new to the area, and thought we'd get to know the city a bit better. My boy has an itch for dungeon delving. He's quite talented."

"My… how exciting." The woman nodded, "That is quite impressive for someone so young. You must have trained very hard."

Bly wasn't sure whether she was being sarcastic or not, her tone was too genuine to tell, but he nodded back all the same, "Kind of you to say. But… I'm not really all that special. I've had a lot of help, and I still have a lot to learn."

"Well," She said, grabbing her cloak and standing up from the table. It was only then that Bly noticed how pale she was, and how tall. Glancing down at him, she added with a smile, "If I am not the first, then please still allow me to welcome both of you to Frostwall. This city has a lot to offer those with ambition. I hope you will do your very best in order to reach your goals, Trelen."

"Huh? Nel? You're leaving already?" A grizzled, feminine tone of voice said from somewhere over by the bar. Bly glanced over, and saw the curly headed woman to whom the voice belonged, glancing over in their direction, "What do I tell Anselm? He was looking forward to serenading you tonight with that new ballad of his."

Bly couldn't be certain, but he was sure that "Nel" was blushing slightly.

"…Please inform the bard that I shall endeavor to hear him out another time." Nel bowed her head slightly, "I really do have to be going, missus Kornfeld."

It was only at that moment when she was getting ready to leave that Bly spotted the massive longsword hanging off her belt. She must have been pretty strong to wield a thing like that; it was twice the size of Xander's!

"Kid, call me Gisela." The woman insisted from the bar, "Missus Kornfeld was my mother. Anyway, I got you a container for the road. I had a feeling you'd be skipping out on me tonight. Grab it on your way out. Oh, and you two," Gisela gestured towards Bly and Bartolo, "Room's ready. Grab supper before the rush. And don't make me regret nothing… Jil-var-lok. What a ridiculous name…"

Somehow, Bly got the impression that Gisela Kornfeld wasn't all too eager to see Bartolo.

"Best of luck to you both." Nel addressed simply, and before Bly could even ask about what he'd originally come over to her for, she was gone.

"Hungry?" Bartolo asked, filling in the spot in the booth where Nel had just been seated, "I'm starving!"

Bly rolled his eyes, "Is that all you care about?"

"Hm?" Bartolo resounded, "I'll have you know, the food in this city is some of the best you'll find anywhere. I'm not passing up the opportunity. You think I accompanied you here out of the goodness in my heart?"

Blychert couldn't help but chuckle, and then he took a seat opposite the old sorcerer.

"That woman…" Bly murmured, turning to look out the window, "I wonder what kind of person she is in a place like this."

"None you need to worry about." Bartolo urged, "Tomorrow, we'll head north of the city for magic training, and then I'll send you off to find your friends."

Bly raised his eyebrow, "Not coming along?"

"Me? No…" Bartolo shrugged, "I have other matters to attend to. Things to arrange and places to visit. Besides, you don't want me around. I'll only strive to embarrass you in front of all your friends."

"Hm." Bly grunted, content to leave it at that.

After two long months, tomorrow he was finally going to be reunited with Bold Arrow.