The morning light filtered through the thin wooden slats of the village inn's shutters, casting golden stripes across the simple room. The scent of baking bread wafted through the air, mingling with the faint tang of dew-soaked earth. It was peaceful on the surface.
I stretched out my hand, brushing away a curl of magic that Moira had summoned to rouse me. "I'm up," I muttered groggily, more to myself than to her.
Her lilting voice was bright and cheerful. "You have a big day, vessel. The landowners are waiting for you, and there's much to discuss."
I groaned, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Hamish had already been awake for some time. His cot lay neatly tucked, his jagged kobold blade conspicuously absent from its usual resting place. A muffled hum of conversation seeped through the walls, a low, serious tone that carried Hamish's unmistakable gruffness.
By the time I made my way to the common area, Hamish stood by the hearth, speaking in hushed tones with a wiry, gray-haired man. The elder villager looked weathered yet solid, his eyes narrowing slightly as he caught sight of me. Hamish nodded toward me in acknowledgment.
"Chief," Hamish called. "This here's Osric. He's one of the elders looking over the dig site lands."
Osric studied me, his gaze sharp and piercing. "You're the one stirring things up, then?"
I resisted the urge to frown at his bluntness, instead opting for a calm smile. "Only if it's for the better."
Osric's lips twitched, the closest he came to smiling. "We'll see about that." He gestured toward the door with a gnarled hand. "The other landowners are waiting. If you're serious about what you're asking, it's time to put your words into action."
The walk to the meeting hall was brief but heavy with tension. Osric led the way, his cane tapping softly against the cobbled path. The villagers we passed offered furtive glances—some curious, others wary. Hamish fell into step beside me, his demeanor calm but watchful, his blade strapped securely to his back.
The hall itself was modest yet sturdy, its wooden beams carved with intricate patterns that told stories of the village's history. Inside, two figures awaited us.
One was a woman, younger than I expected, with striking auburn hair tied back in a loose braid. Her expression was guarded but curious, and her hands rested on the back of a well-worn chair.
The other was an older man with broad shoulders and a thick, graying beard. He radiated a quiet authority, his eyes scanning me as if weighing my very soul.
"Introduce yourself," Osric said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I stepped forward, bowing my head slightly in respect. "Robert McCallum. Archaeologist, mage… and someone who believes in the potential of this land and its people."
The older man's expression hardened. "Magic," he said, his voice laced with disbelief. "You claim to be a mage? What is this, a theater performance? We've seen magic in movies, lad, not in real life."
The younger woman crossed her arms, skepticism flickering in her eyes. "If you think words will convince us to hand over this land, you've underestimated us."
Their doubts weighed heavily in the room, and I could feel the balance teetering. Hamish gave me a sidelong glance, his expression saying, You walked into this one, Chief.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the door to the hall creaked open behind me.
All three landowners turned, their expressions shifting subtly, guarded tension melting into something softer, almost reverent.
I turned as well, and a young woman stepped hesitantly into the room. She was petite, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Her wide blue eyes darted nervously between the gathered figures, and a faint blush dusted her freckled cheeks. A simple cloak wrapped her, her hands clutching its edges like armor against the world.
She didn't speak immediately, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Moira's voice hummed softly in my thoughts. "Fascinating. She's not what she seems."
I furrowed my brow slightly. What do you mean?
"Allow me."
A translucent screen flickered into view before my eyes, invisible to everyone else.
Name: Snow
Age: 19
Potential: exceptional, class-undetermined
Magic Affinity: Supreme, Water, and Ice
Physical Combat: Moderate, Agility-based
Unique trait: latent talents and dormant abilities awaiting activation.
Moira's voice softened. "She's untrained, but her magical affinity is remarkable. Water and ice are rare elements, Robert. And her latent abilities… she's a diamond waiting to be unearthed."
Before I could respond, the younger landowner stepped forward, her guarded expression replaced by a faint smile. "Snow," she said warmly, her voice tinged with affection. "What brings you here?"
Snow hesitated, her fingers tightening on her cloak. "They said… they said you might need help. With… with the preparations." Her voice was soft, almost timid, but it carried an undercurrent of sincerity.
The mood shift in the room was tangible. Even the older man's stern demeanor softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing as he regarded Snow with a protective affection that was undeniable.
Osric cleared his throat. "You're welcome here, as always, Snow. But the meeting is private."
Snow nodded quickly, her blush deepening. "Of course. I… I'll go."
"Wait," I said, the words escaping before I could stop them.
All eyes turned to me, including Snow's.
"She doesn't have to leave," I said, my tone careful. "If she's willing, I could use her help. I'm still learning about this land and its people, and an extra perspective could be invaluable."
Snow blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise.
Osric studied me for a long moment before nodding gruffly. "If Snow agrees, I won't object."
Snow glanced between us, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. But after a moment, she nodded. "I might help; I will stay and see what this is about." She spoke softly, took a seat near a warm fireplace, and looked curiously at Robert.
I stepped forward, letting the tension settle before speaking. "I understand your hesitation," I said gently. "It's not often you encounter something you've only ever seen in stories. So let me show you."
The room fell silent. Even Osric, who had remained measured, tilted his head with mild curiosity.
A wooden bowl sat on the table, filled with fruit, a meager collection of apples, pears, and a few misshapen plums. I reached toward it, brushing my hand over the surface of a ripe apple. I activated Essence refinement. The apple trembled slightly, and then the whole fruit dissolved into thin air, leaving only a single, large apple seed.
My ability had reduced the apple to a single perfect seed. I could feel that everything the apple is, its crunchy, sweet juiciness, had condensed backwardly to its starting form. I plucked the seed without effort into the air using my new air manipulation power, causing it to float in place.
The slightly shining brown seed floated upward, spinning slowly in the air between my fingers.
The older man raised an eyebrow. The younger woman frowned, though intrigue glimmered behind her skepticism. And then there was Snow, who had remained quiet since my earlier request that she stay and help. Her already large blue eyes widened further in amazement. "Wow… How… How are you doing that, mister?"
Moira's voice purred in my mind, warm and encouraging. "Careful now, vessel. You are yet new at these elements… It could be a disaster if you lose control of what you are about to do."
I smiled faintly. "Watch closely," I said.
With a whisper of earth magic, a clump of soil rose from the cracks between the floorboards, gathering in a floating sphere beneath the seed. The soil darkened as I fed it rich nutrients, its surface glistening as if kissed by morning dew. A faint shimmer ran through the air, subtle, almost imperceptible, as I added a thread of Albion's essence into the soil.
Next, I called upon the gentlest flames, their warmth wrapping around the soil like a cradle. The seed quivered and then, with a faint pop, cracked open to reveal a tiny sprout.
A delicate stream of water flowed from thin air. I knew that moisture is always in the air, invisible as a vapor until condensed. I used this moisture to dampen the soil just enough to sustain life. I guided a soft breeze to flow through the air, cooling the growing sapling and fanning its leaves as it stretched upward.
Abruptly, the sprout grew extremely rapidly, as if it had reached a critical threshold. Its thin sapling trunk began thickening and branches unfurling with vibrant green leaves.
I continued to channel the elements in perfect harmony, feeding the tree what it needed to flourish. I found that I could sense when something felt out of balance. If more air was needed or more water, I could release my mana in that elemental direction, providing what was needed.
The miniature apple tree creaked and popped with sudden increasing weight and density. Within moments, it stood as a small but sturdy apple tree, its branches heavy with ripe, crimson apples. I admired the apples; they were easily twice the size of any I had ever seen.
The room was utterly silent. Snow's wide eyes reflected the soft glow of the tree, her hands clutched tightly at the edges of her cloak. The older man leaned forward, his brows furrowed in disbelief, while the younger woman's mouth hung slightly open.
I reached up and plucked one of the apples, holding it out for them to see. Its skin was a deep, perfect red, the kind that glimmered like polished glass. "This," I said, "is an Albion apple. It's grown with care, balance, and a touch of the otherworld."
I set the apple on the table, gesturing to the others still hanging from the tree. "These are yours if you'll trust me. Taste them."
For a moment, no one moved. The weight of their doubt hung in the air, but then, to my surprise, Snow stepped forward. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out, plucking one of the apples from the branch.
She hesitated, her gaze flickering to me as if seeking permission. I nodded gently, and she lifted the apple to her lips.
The first bite was small and tentative. But as the juice spilled over her chin, her round face lit up with sheer delight. "It's…" she whispered, her voice trailing off before she took another bite. Her eyes sparkled, and for the first time, her shyness seemed to fade. "It's perfect."
The older man reached for an apple next, followed by the younger woman. Their reactions mirrored Snow's: astonishment, disbelief, and finally, wonder. The elder took a deep breath, his voice softer now. "I've never tasted anything like it."
Snow turned to me, her cheeks flushed. "How… how did you do that?" she asked, her voice trembling between awe and curiosity.
I met her gaze, offering a small smile. "It's not just me," I said. "It's Albion. This land holds potential beyond what you've seen. I just helped bring a piece of it to life, here in Kilrain."
The moment hung suspended, the scent of Albion's perfect apples mingling with the soft rustle of the apple tree's leaves. Snow wiped a bit of juice from her chin, her expression alight with wonder, when the heavy creak of the hall's door shattered the moment.
Professor Langston strode in without invitation, his coat flaring behind him like a scientist stepping onto a battlefield. His sharp eyes scanned the room, lingering briefly on the apple tree before narrowing on me. He clutched a leather-bound notebook against his chest, his thin lips pressed into a tight line.
"Fascinating," he said, his tone clipped, as if the word were a grudging concession. "Quite the parlor trick you've performed here, Mr. McCallum. But I wonder, do you plan to dazzle these good people with sleight of hand alone, or do you have actual science to back up your claims?"
The council members turned toward Langston, their faces shifting from awe to guardedness. The elder's brows knit together, while the younger woman stood straighter, crossing her arms defensively.
Langston continued, his voice measured and confident. "What you see here, this so-called 'magic,' is a novelty, nothing more. A temporary flourish that offers no sustainable future. What Robert proposes is built on uncertainty, folklore, and dangerous experimentation. Is that what you want for your village? To gamble your future on fantasies?"
I remained silent, letting him speak. Langston's words dripped with conviction, each syllable aimed at dismantling the fragile trust I'd built.
"He's convincing," Moira murmured in my mind. "But you can be more so."
When Langston paused to let his arguments sink in, I stepped forward, my tone calm but firm. "You're right about one thing, Professor," I said, drawing all eyes to me. "This isn't science. It's magic. Like the technology you cling to so desperately, magic is a tool, not something to fear.
Langston's eyes narrowed. "Empty words, McCallum. What happens when your so-called magic fails? When the balance tips and leaves these people worse off than they started? What happens when magic is used to poison their farms instead? Or is it used to turn the entire nation of Scotland into a fetid swamp of decay? These things can happen."
It dawned on me then that he knew about magic already. He knew of its existence. He actively worked against its resurgence. But why? It can't simply be fears of misuse.
The same arguments against the use of magic can just as easily be made against the use of technology. The tired old example of nuclear energy, for instance. An incredible source of nearly clean energy, but even more likely a source of mass destruction in an instant. I will need to keep an eye on him.
He's more dangerous than I had first assumed.
I met his gaze evenly, then turned to the council. "You've seen what I can do. Not just conjure a tree, but create something that embodies the potential of this land. These apples aren't just food; they're a glimpse into what Albion's magic can offer: a better way of living. Safer, richer, and in harmony with nature."
I gestured toward the tree. "Magic isn't a gamble. It's a partnership. And this land is already calling out to us—look at the apples. Taste them. They're not just food; they're perfection. If we nurture this magic, we can transform this village into something extraordinary." … I paused to let this fact take effect in their minds, but I continued with my prior thinking.
"And the professor here is making claims of safety and concern when the very principles of science that he, and I to be perfectly honest, are quite likely just as responsible for more death and destruction than this apple tree."
The elder leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. The younger woman frowned, her arms still crossed, but her skepticism seemed to waver. "That's true." She eventually said, "Science can increase crop yield, but just as easily irradiate it. I don't see the difference in your worry, professor." Snow nodded quietly, understanding the logic behind her elder's words.
Langston opened his mouth to retort, but I raised my hand, stopping him. "And you, Professor," I said, letting just a hint of steel creep into my voice.
"You rely on logic, on numbers and theories. But have you asked yourself why you're so threatened by what you see here? Is it because deep down, you know that the world is more than equations? "There are forces outside your control, and that's actually what terrifies you, isn't it?"
Langston's mouth snapped shut, his jaw tightening. I could see the anger in his eyes. I basically called him out as a coward. I could see easily that this man did—not—appreciate being made to look a coward.
I turned back to the council, letting my voice soften. "I'm not asking for blind trust. I'm asking for a chance. Let me show you what this land can become, not through theories but through action."
The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of unspoken decisions filling the room. Then, to my surprise, it was Snow who broke it.
For a moment, Snow hesitated, clutching the edges of her cloak tighter. Her wide blue eyes flickered between the council members, the glowing tree, and me. Something unspoken seemed to unfold behind her large blue eyes, a quiet resolve that bloomed like the very apples hanging before us. She took a steadying breath, her voice soft but clear.
"I trust him," she said quietly, trembling but resolute.
Her words settled like ripples in a pond, spreading through the room. The elder nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision.
"I'll admit," he said, "I didn't expect much from you, McCallum. But you've proven you're not all talk." He looked to the younger woman. "Elira?"
The woman pursed her lips, glancing between me and Langston. Finally, she sighed, pulling a sheet of parchment from a drawer. "Fine," she said. "We'll draft a contract. Stewardship of the dig site lands, with full taxation rights. But it comes with conditions. The village will need to be convinced, and we'll open the question of leadership to council discussion."
I nodded, my chest loosening as relief washed over me. "That's all I ask."
Langston huffed, his face pale with frustration. He turned his furious gaze upon me, his voice low and venomous. "This isn't over, mage," he spat, the word dripping with derision. His fingers tightened on the leather-bound notebook clutched to his chest. "I'll show this village what real progress looks like. Don't get too comfortable."
With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
The elder chuckled softly. "Don't mind him. He's all bluster." I pensively replied, "I know that he means well...entirely basing his choices only on what he's been able to measure and mathematically solve.
Science as a whole is a wholly invaluable field of study. It will flatly deny anything it can't observe or prove, which makes sense! It's logical. But nothing about magic is conventionally logical. I fear he may become a larger problem for me if there are others out there like him."
Elira slid the parchment across the table toward me, her expression grudging but determined. ""I'm not one for idealism," she said, her tone measured. "But I can't deny what I've seen today. If this magic can truly help the village… it's worth a chance."
She slid the parchment across the table toward me, her expression grudging but acquiescent.
I reached to take the parchment, but her grip didn't release it. "This says we have the authority to reclaim that land should your claims prove detrimental to Kilrain and the people who call it home. Don't make me regret this." She met my eyes sternly, and I could see a resolve as cold and hard as the highland mountains themselves.
Meeting her gaze with my most charming smile, I said, "I won't. You are free to visit any time."