Chapter 58: Seeking a Teacher

I found myself roaming the streets of New Haven alone this morning. The girls had all volunteered at the local bakery, leaving me with a free day. The rain had passed and left muddy streets everywhere. My boots squished into it as I walked with a plop.

The morning crowds moved slower than usual. The speed almost made me uncomfortable at first, but after a few blocks, I shoved my hands in my pockets and went with the flow, not particularly paying attention to where I was headed.

The ground rumbled beneath my feet, startling me out of my comfortable disassociation.

Calvin stood with his palms on the soft dirt, surrounded by several people who seemed to be dazzled by him. He smiled at them before raising his hands and slamming them into the ground.

The moment his hands made contact, the muddiest section of the road in front of him hardened immediately, fissuring on top slightly.

He caught my gaze as I entered the market district.

"Sam, hey!" he yelled across the courtyard. "Good morning," he added as he waved.

"Good morning, Calvin," I replied, walking up to him. We shook hands before continuing. "You’re working hard, I see."

"The rain about did us in. If I don’t get these roads hardened and ready for transport... well, let’s just say it won’t be a good day," he explained. "Where are your wives?"

My belly did a literal barrel roll as the idea of marriage permeated my mind. Not once had I thought about it. The way Calvin said it made it sound so natural.

Before I knew it, my cheeks were on fire. Calvin noticed and busted into a mighty roar of laughter.

"What’s wrong, kid? They are your wives, right?" he teased, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Not yet..." I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Come on! Say it with your gut!"

"Not yet they aren’t," I shot back. "One day, though. I think I would like that."

The wind kicked up, jostling my hair around. Grabbing at my bangs, I realized I hadn’t cut my hair once since coming to this new world. But I chose to focus on one thing this morning.

"Hey, Calvin," I called. He quit laughing and looked in my direction. "Do you think you could point me in the way of someone who could teach me some magic?"

"Outside of mundane magic like what you saw me use, I’m practically useless." He furrowed a brow, leaning his head slightly askew. "Have you tried the guild?"

There had been that one younger witch who was yelling about wanting to spread the word of explosion magic. The thought made me shudder. Maybe later. For now, I wanted to focus on something to go with my boosted physical attribute.

"I haven’t yet," I replied. "But I’ll head there now. Thanks!" I yelled as I walked in the direction of the guild.

I turned and walked toward the center of town. The morning sun climbed higher, warming the damp air and pulling a thin layer of fog off the cobblestone streets. Merchants shouted prices from their open stalls. Fishermen hauled heavy nets over their shoulders near the wooden docks. I kept a steady pace until the large doors of the Pathfinder’s Guild came into view. The gold and silver emblems above the entrance caught the morning sunlight.

I pulled the heavy doors open and stepped inside.

The guild hall felt entirely different in the morning. The loud, rowdy drinking crowds were gone. Instead, small groups of armored adventurers stood around the quest board, quietly discussing routes and payouts. A few people sat at the wooden tables, eating breakfast and polishing their gear.

I walked straight to the front desk. The same receptionist who registered my silver tag weeks ago sat behind the tall wooden counter. She was sorting a stack of parchment bounties.

"Good morning," I said, leaning against the counter.

She looked up and set her papers down. "Good morning, Sam. Are you looking to report a completed bounty? I don’t see Damara or the rest of your party with you today."

"They took the morning off to help at the bakery," I explained. "I’m actually here for myself today. I want to learn magic."

She raised an eyebrow. "Magic is a very broad subject. Are you looking for a grimoire to study theory, or do you need a practical instructor?"

"Definitely an instructor," I said. "I have a lot of physical strength, but I lack versatility. I need something that complements close-quarters combat. I want to be able to protect my team better."

She nodded slowly and pulled a thick leather ledger from beneath the counter. She flipped through the heavy pages, scanning the ink columns with her finger.

"We have a few registered instructors in New Haven," she noted. "Most focus on elemental casting or ranged artillery. If you want something to enhance your physical combat, you need an augmentation specialist."

"That sounds exactly like what I need," I agreed. "Do you have anyone available?"

She stopped flipping pages and tapped her finger against the paper. She looked back up at me with a skeptical expression.

"We have one augmentation master in town," she said. "His name is Torin. He runs a training yard behind the old armory."

"Is there a catch?" I asked, noticing her hesitation.

"Torin is brilliant, but he is notoriously difficult to work with," she warned. "He rejects most applicants. He claims they lack the proper discipline for physical magic."

I stood up straighter. "I can handle discipline. Where do I find the old armory?"

She pointed toward the back windows of the guild hall. "Take the west road out of the market square. Follow the outer stone wall until you see the old watchtower. The armory sits right beneath it. You will hear him before you see him."

"Thank you," I said.

Leaving the guild, I followed her directions. The west road led away from the busy harbor. The buildings here were noticeably older. Heavy stone blocks replaced the wooden storefronts. The air smelled heavily of forge smoke and crushed gravel.

Calvin’s joke from earlier echoed in my head again. Wives. I grinned. I wanted to make sure they stayed safe. My raw strength was great for carrying heavy crates or punching monsters, but I needed real control. I needed actual technique.

The stone watchtower loomed ahead. Right below it sat a massive, walled courtyard. The heavy iron gates hung wide open.

A loud crack echoed from inside. It sounded exactly like a cannon firing.

I stepped through the gates. The courtyard was completely stripped of grass. Deep craters littered the hard dirt.

In the center of the yard stood an older man. He had short gray hair. He wore simple linen pants and thick bandages wrapped around his knuckles. He stood perfectly still in front of a massive granite boulder.

He exhaled slowly. A faint, glowing white aura wrapped tightly around his right forearm.

He stepped forward and struck the boulder with an open palm.

The solid rock did not just break. It exploded. Shards of granite showered the dirt yard. The shockwave physically rattled my teeth.

The man lowered his arm. The glowing aura faded instantly. He turned and locked his eyes directly on me. His gaze was sharp.

"The guild sends me another soft boy," he said. His voice was rough like gravel. "Turn around and go back to the tavern. I do not have time to babysit today."

I did not move. I locked my knees and met his stare.

"My name is Sam," I called across the yard. "And I am not leaving until you teach me how to do that."