The Wandsmith [LitRPG, Isekai, Harem]

"Ah, much better," Bis'quin, the headman of Strafhollow, said as Ori finished his latest round of post-trauma healing.

'Yes, much,' Lady Seraphine added silently over their bond. After returning to the village that afternoon following several hours of arcane introspection with Lysara in the wilds, Ori had tended to the villagers after checking in with his bonds. It was then that Lady Seraphine had taken it upon herself to resume their tuition, guiding Ori in technique as they discussed the finer points of magical healing and bedside manner.

The lamia sighed. "They did a number on this town. Thankfully, the Longhouse wasn't damaged too much by the fires, or I wouldn't even be able to offer you and yours a place to stay."

"Don't worry about it. I intend to set up a small workshop on the edge of the village, just by the forest line."

"Oh? Will you need any help or supplies? We're understandably short on both, but—"

"Actually, privacy would be the best thing you could offer me right now. I'll be some way outside the walls anyway, but if you could let your people know what's what, and that I like my privacy, I'd appreciate it."

"Oh? You don't intend to be doing anything we should be worried about?" Bis'quin asked, his back straightening, turning more cautious.

"Not really. Look, besides being a healer, I'm also an enchanter, or at least, trying to become one. I've got some enchantments to work on, and I could do with a bit of peace for my research. It shouldn't affect the village in any way. If I need to do anything truly risky, I promise I'll take it well away from Strafhollow and its people," Ori explained.

"Very well, that sounds fair. Say, you wouldn't happen to be a licensed enchanter, would you?"

"No?"

"What a pity, what a pity," Bis'quin sighed.

"Why? What do you need?"

"Just some tools enchanted—it would make a real difference with the rebuilding," Bis'quin nodded. "No matter, though, I wouldn't risk it given Dremshire's poor tolerance for unlicensed enchanters."

"Oh yeah?" Ori asked. "You're saying I need a licence to do any enchantment work?"

Bis'quin shook his head. "For yourself or your family, you could probably get away without one. Even if you wanted to get a licence, Dremshire wouldn't be the place to get it. The king's decree means well—Twilight knows we're better off without enchanted weapons in circulation—but for the common people, it puts such conveniences out of reach. Meanwhile, that wand," he gestured to Seraphine's beacon with his chin, lowering his voice, "I'd guess is an artefact even King Darius would covet. And I saw what you did to Ricoh's axe. If that's the level of your enchantment, best keep it to yourself until you've got that licence. You get me?"

"Yeah. I get you."

"You never did tell me how the day with the girls went?" Ori asked over their bond not long after the headman left.

"You have certainly surrounded yourself with interesting and capable women." Seraphine began. "While Freya and I may always be oil and water, she is worthy of her station as arcane instructor, and I'm glad she's on your side. Tess is adorable—like a younger version of my dear Cordelia, and I look forward to being her friend. As for Ruenne'del, despite how quiet and demure that dainty Seelie princess appears, I always sense something beneath her silences and stares. It's her I struggle to connect with the most."

Ori chuckled. "Me too. But the bond I have with her helps."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. As you might have already figured out, I can forge different types of bonds: artefact bonds, familiar bonds, warlock bonds, and then there are these bonds—ones based on a soul-deep connection or union? It's hard to explain. The elven one is the Taurna'diem, like a fated lovers' bond, a guarantee, if anything could be called as much in Fate, that the person you've met would be good for you, your ideal partner even. Elven society recognises it as sacred. I can feel those bonds, like fine, unbreakable chains cast out into infinity. Meanwhile, the bond I have with Rue—the Leanan Sídhe bond—is like a river. A part of me, a substantial amount of my surplus lifeforce, flows through it to feed her, to empower her. In return, my magic and mind grow stronger, but there's something else."

'Something more than this river of lifeforce and mental enhancements?' Seraphine asked with added sass.

Ignoring her tone, he continued. "When we're nearby, we can feel each other's emotions. The deeper our bond, the more we sense each other. It's almost to the point where we feed off each other: our joys, anger, or sadness. It's intense, but I'm glad we have it." Ori chuckled, his tone turning wistful. "And yes, you have no idea how odd her mind is. I believe she's always struggled to connect with people, even in the Seelie, and I definitely wasn't an exception."

'That's so fascinating! These connections you have with people... Do you intend to forge new types of bonds? And how would ours classify?' Seraphine wondered.

"Yeah, definitely. Ours is a bit tenuous, like an artefact bond. I wonder if something like the Taurna'diem could exist between other races. Humans don't have such a bond, do we?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

Ori nodded. "I think we humans are less bound by fate than the elves, but my experience with human women is... not much really."

"Your warlock? Is she not a human?"

"Raven? Yes, but like I said, before all this happened, I could probably count on one hand the number of women I'd kissed, let alone dated."

"Hmmm, I suspect this lack of confidence lingers, even now, doesn't it?" Seraphine said over the bond as Ori sat with Seraphine's Beacon, softly glowing in his lap.

"How do you mean?" Ori asked, hesitant.

"Well, I saw how quickly you latched onto Tess. You must have suffered much rejection in your past to act as you do. To push away potential sources of risk, but when presented with certainty, you did not hesitate to pursue a connection."

Ori shrugged. "It's normal, at least it was in my world and culture. Was it different for you?"

"Oh yes, most relationships were arranged by the families involved. The individuals had plenty of say, of course, but whether you were a farmer's son, major's daughter, baron or duchess, most matchmaking was done by the older generation. It was one of the few things in Astor that tied our culture together."

"But what if you didn't like the match? Or liked someone else?" Ori asked.

"It was rarely a problem; forced matches were taboo and deeply frowned upon, and if a natural connection formed, the families of both parties would work together to arrange the union."

"Ah. That actually sounds nice then. Did your parents never try to arrange a match for you?"

"No, not for long." Seraphine scoffed. "They realised rather early that I was not long for our city, and given the challenges they had with my sister, they chose not to fight it. And as you know, I became something of a scourge, and eventually families stopped approaching us."

Ori smirked and announced in a devious voice. "And now, you're mine."

"Oh, I am, am I?" Seraphine countered, her tone provocative.

Ori nodded, his mood shifting as he chose this moment to clarify and reinforce their commitment to each other, as his confidence in his role as the pursuer rather than the pursued grew. "I scoured the ethereal realm for fragments of your soul. Now that you're back, I'm never letting you go. And if you still doubt my intentions, I have plans to put those doubts to rest once we bring you back to life."

Seraphine scoffed. "Please, you wouldn't even know what to do with my body if I were sitting right on your lap."

"Maybe, but you can bet I'd enjoy figuring it out." Ori chuckled, and Seraphine joined him over their bond.

"Ori, did you ever discover your shadow?" Seraphine asked after a long moment of comfortable silence.

"Yes," Ori replied.

"May I ask what it is?"

"Weapons. I like using weapons, making them, and refining them to be more lethal, more advanced. Does that make sense? It's reflected in two of my classes, Wandsmith and Duælist."

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"Duælist?" Seraphine echoed, puzzled.

"I fight others alone, in duels, wielding a weapon in each hand, attacking as I defend, mixing melee with magic. It's a class derived from a unique accolade that reflects some of the battles I've fought so far." Ori sent Seraphine the details of the accolade as he spoke.

"Ah," Seraphine said, her tone shifting.

"What's wrong?"

"Beyond the fact that this accolade alone would make you an Entity of Power scarier than any I've ever heard of, it's your shadow. Weapons are difficult to manage."

"How so?"

"Weapons can be used to protect, yes, but mostly to kill. Once sold, you have no say over their use. This is an issue because, as a White Mage of the Chromatic Order, your class is concerned less with why people live or die, and more with ensuring your existence results in a net positive—more lives saved than lost. Ignoring this will stall your progression, limit your spell development, and block your comprehension of Light and Life affinities."

Ori groaned. "Fucksake. So… no selling weapons then. Got it."

"Worse, whatever weapons you do make need to be soul-bound to you, or bound with exclusivity enchantments. That way, if you lose them, they can't later be found and used by someone to start a war, or worse."

"Exclusivity enchantments? What are those, and how do they work?"

"They restrict the artefact, preventing the enchantments—say, on a butter knife—from being used for murder, or limiting an artefact's use to a bloodline or divine faction. They work through karmic fate, though the exact details are beyond my knowledge."

"Alright." Ori's mind drifted to the knives he had enchanted back in Redharrow, considering whether they might end up used for ill. Suddenly, he felt sick. "Fuck!" Ori cursed.

"What is it?"

"Just thinking of some knives I enchanted for a tavern a few days ago."

"Did those enchantments make them artefacts recognised by the Library of Fate?"

"I don't think so, but they were definitely sharp—sharp enough to cut through a table like butter."

"You should be fine. As I said, you must ensure your impact is positive on balance. So long as you make enchantments to save lives and continue your good deeds, you should be fine." Seraphine sighed. "To that end, we should do some training. Ori, have you ever infused flesh with Mana?"

"No. What does doing that accomplish?"

"Normally, very little without spell constructs to control the mana. However, your mana affinity is at Immersion—you can sense what your mana feels. You also have that remarkable Cosmic affinity, which lets you direct intent through mana as you channel, even without spell constructs. With these two aspects, I believe we can accelerate your understanding of Life affinity, healing magic, and your class. In weeks, perhaps even days, you could match me in life magic. Finding an apprentice of your own would then be the final step before class evolution."

"Alright," Ori said, suddenly eager to begin. "What do we need to do?"

"Fenwynn, I swear!"

Ori, his focus broken from his lessons with Seraphine, looked up to see Tess storming after an elven man he didn't recognise. Night had fallen over the village, with torchlight scattered amongst the ruins as villagers continued their efforts to rebuild, erecting makeshift shelters and shoring up defences against further threats.

"We made promises," the man Ori guessed was Fenwynn, said. He was tall, lithe yet broad-shouldered, and stalked towards him with a stormy expression, his eyes locking on Ori as they drew near.

"No, we did not!" Tess all but shouted. "Stop this, see to your family and friends lest you embarrass yourself."

"This so-called suitor, a human no less—I will see for myself what manner of charlatan managed to convince your harridan of a mother."

"Say one more word about my mother—"

"And what!?" Fenwynn turned on Tess, his voice furious as he loomed over her. "You hate your mother almost as much as I do. Had she not kept—"

"Oh, she was right to do so. Your true colours showed not long after," Tess said, fearlessly squaring up to the physically more imposing man. Not only was he half a head taller, the Greater Rank elf was more than a match for the still-mortal Tessalyn.

"I figured this would happen eventually," Ori sighed as he stood, unsummoning Seraphine's Beacon before approaching.

'This should be entertaining…' Seraphine said over their bond. Ori shook his head, amused by her flair for melodrama.

"You alright, Tess?" Ori asked as he approached, mind and magic ready in case things turned violent.

"This idiot. He caught wind of us—my mother granting us her blessing, then lost it. I don't think he even knows who you are or what you did."

"It's you…" It was then Fenwynn turned his ire towards Ori as villagers, drawn by the disturbance, slowed their activities to watch. "Just who do you think you are, to come in and—"

"Tess, who is he to you?" Ori cut in.

"We talked about leaving this village to join a group or guild years ago, but that was before I realised he was a lying, abusive arse!" Tess shouted.

"I'll deal with you and your mouth later. First, we need to come to terms. Nascent ranker? Do you dare settle things in the courtyard?" Fenwynn growled

"Ori—"

"Shut it—" Fenwynn roared.

"Settle things… how?" Ori asked, bemused.

"An old-fashioned duel. Fist against fist until only one is left standing."

Seraphine laughed uproariously upon hearing the word duel over the bond, while Ori could feel Ruenne'del's excitement bubbling over as she approached unseen.

"And what, precisely, would that settle?"

"If I win, you fuck off."

"And if I win?"

"You won't win," Fenwynn sneered. Ori shrugged, walking towards the courtyard without another word.

'You're actually going to fight him?' Seraphine said silently over the bond, more curious about his intentions than questioning his decision to humour the man.

'Time to put some of what you've been teaching into practice, innit?'

"Ori…" Tess called, catching up to him. Ori reached out a hand in reassurance, but it was firmly batted away by the increasingly irate Fenwynn.

"I'll be fine," Ori said, ignoring the bull-headed man at his back. Tess bit her lip, holding back a torrent of worry and explanations. Ori's reassuring glance, paired with an easy chuckle, coaxed the faintest smile from her lips.

They reached the square. Ori placed his jacket in the void storage ring, then rolled his shoulders and stretched. Before university, he had practised Taekwondo up to red belt. Ori shook his head, banishing thoughts of old crushes and memories better left forgotten as he focused on the man before him and what he wanted to do.

"Ready to be slapped out of this village, scum?" Fenwynn jeered. Ori stared at him for a moment, momentarily taken aback by the greater ranker's raw belligerence. He shook himself out of it and replied,

"Bring it, bitch."

Fenwynn charged, using a Breath-assisted ability, telegraphing a wide swing as he closed the distance.

Since his abduction, let alone reaching the peak of Nascent Rank, Ori had rarely faced anyone near his level without them grossly outnumbering him, usually relying on class abilities to close the vast gap between him and his foes. Now, meeting someone close to his rank, he felt a keen curiosity to see what his Crucible-refined body, bolstered by Polydexterity and four-fold perception, could achieve.

Ori felt his upper arm crack as he blocked Fenwynn's haymaker. A jab to the face, this time unassisted by Breath, followed the first. Ori settled into the fight, as his opponent used breath to empower each strike and movement, matching his opponent with his physical body alone.

A rank higher, and with Breath to burn, Fenwynn's advantage mounted. A series of punches shattered Ori's shoulder and sent him sprawling across the cobbles.

"Is this it? Is this the man your mother chose, Tessalyn?" Fenwynn roared, parading around the square as spectators gathered.

Having learned all he needed about the disparity between them, Ori channelled mana as Lady Seraphine had taught him. Using the Cosmic aspect and the spell engrams for Channelled Restoration, he healed his broken bones and rose into a fighting stance. It was only a trickle of mana, but to those attuned, it might as well have been a torrent.

"Ori, don't kill him," Tess called, sensing the swell of his mana. To Fenwynn, though, her words may as well have been a slap.

Roaring, Fenwynn charged, intent on bowling Ori over. Ori stepped into the charge, turning his lead foot before delivering a perfect reverse turning kick. His heel cracked against Fenwynn's face, sending the elf crashing face-first into the cobbles. His Greater Rank constitution was only just enough to keep his jaw from shattering under the blow. Even so, when he stood, Fenwynn spat out a tooth and wiped blood from his lips.

A new caution replaced his swagger, his eyes wary, calculating, and for the first time, dangerous.

Ori closed in, front kick to the chin, side kick to the chest, a three-point strike to the shin, shoulder, and jaw, then another reverse kick that sent the now dazed greater ranker back to the floor. His polydexterity, when pushed, was enough to keep pace with Fenwynn's Breath-enhanced speed.

Fenwynn rose again, his aura shifting as he layered even more Breath into his speed and power. Ori caught the first blow, mana reinforcing his muscles and bones, his heightened awareness feeding back into his movements, enhancing his proprioception to extraordinary levels. Gradually, he increased the flow of mana, condensing and reinforcing his body far beyond the typical limits of the Nascent rank.

As he did so, he felt Fate's familiar pull, his irregular nature drawing correction from the universe, the urgency of Fate's insistence growing each time Ori found new ways to empower himself, further highlighting his inability to fit into the rigid structure of Fate's well-established hierarchy.

This time, it was Fenwynn who landed in a heap, his shoulder smashed in. Ori's cynical mind knew how this would end. He said nothing, bouncing lightly on his feet as he prepared to finish the match.

As Fenwynn stood again, Ori quickly noticed his odd stance, his good arm shielded as if hiding something.

When Fenwynn thrust forward, Ori caught the knife between his thumb and forefinger. Greater Stun, infused with Ori's Cosmic affinity, surged through the weapon, freezing the elf in place.

Ori stepped back, eyeing the new statue as firelight glinting off the blade drew gasps and murmurs rippling through the crowd.

Tess rushed into the square, soon followed by Ruenne'del and Freya.

"I'm really sorry about this. I can't believe—" Tess began,

"It's alright," Ori said, relishing in her embrace, holding her close as the tension left her body. As she leaned into him, he let out a slow breath and broke the hug, gesturing towards the frozen Fenwynn. "See? Didn't kill him." The man in question could do nothing but stand there, breathing and blinking, while utterly immobilised.

"What did you do? Why can't he move?" Tess wondered.

"Greater Stun." Ori shrugged. "I'm going to use him in some magical experiments."

"What?" Tess asked, horrified.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt him. Just observe him for a while," Ori said, doing little to ease her concerns.

"How long will he be frozen like this?" Tess asked.

"Unless I or someone else dispels the magic… maybe forever or maybe until he dies naturally? I once cast a light orb a thousand years ago, and I've read that it still shines today."