Aether’s Blessing (Aether’s Revival Book 1)

Gregory woke slowly, groggily. The dream of a giggling woman using him for her own pleasure lingered in his mind. “What in Aether’s name did I drink last night?”

The almost pitch black room held traces of dawn creeping through the closed shutters. Sitting up, he pushed the coverings aside. Stretching as he got to his feet, he winced. His legs were doing their best to support him after all the torture from the day before.

“We should be in the village all day for their age day,” Gregory muttered as he started dressing in his second set of clothes. “I need to get some water and wash the other set.”

When he was dressed, he left the room and met Bishop leaving her room. She nodded when she saw him, “Good, I don’t need to wake you. You are to shadow me all day unless I say otherwise. We’ll start with breakfast.”

 “Yes, Proctor.”

Bishop moved past him, leaving barely an inch between them, and Gregory pressed against the wall to give her more room. Following her downstairs, he took the seat she pointed him to. She went to the bar and slapped it hard.

The innkeeper poked his head out of the back, the rebuke dying on his lips when he saw who it was. “Yes, Proctor?”

“Breakfast for both of us.”

“You want me to use the meat you gave me?”

Bishop’s easy smile dimmed, “Are you questioning my judgement?”

Going pale with beads of sweat forming on his forehead, the man shook his head. “No, never, Proctor.”

“I recall your father,” Bishop said easily, but her gray eyes looked like they were sparking with flame. “Does he still limp?”

Swallowing hard, the man bowed to her, “Please, Proctor, forgive me.”

“Of course,” Bishop said smoothly. “Today is a day of celebration and hope, not a day for pain and regrets. Make sure the food is prepared as I ordered. Go.”

The man fled the room, and Gregory felt his own scalp prickle at the power that radiated from Bishop. Bishop watched the tavern keeper flee and moved over to sit with Gregory.

Seeing Gregory’s frown, she shook her head. “Novice, you don’t realize the power the magi wield, do you?”

Gregory frowned, “They protect the empire. Their power—”

“No,” Bishop cut him off. “I meant power like I just exerted. Magi are listened to or there are consequences for those without power.”

“What if the magi is wrong?”

“Magi can’t be wrong,” Bishop said simply. “It is only because of us that the empire stands. We protect the lesser people, and in return, they do as we require. Did you think me harsh with him?”

Gregory frowned, “I was always told the magi are the shield that protects us, but none of the rest.”

“You know how the empire works though, surely? The strong are in charge, and those under them help as required.”

“The strong lead,” Gregory nodded. “That is true, but they guide everyone. They don’t demand.”

“Ah, the fringe is so different,” Bishop said and a hint of wistfulness filled her voice. “This is why I am the proctor for the northern fringe.”

“Proctor, why do you keep calling it the fringe?”

“The common name given to outlying villages such as yours. You are considered foolish and backward by most of the empire. You will need to be cool, calm, and ready for the barbs that come your way.”

Fast footsteps announced the innkeeper as he brought over a tray and two cups of tea.

“You kept me waiting,” Bishop snapped, her eyes cold.

“I’m sorry, Proctor,” the man said, bowing, the tray still in his hands.

“Set it on that table,” Bishop commanded. “Bring us a kettle of mint.”

“Right away,” the man said.

“Novice, enjoy the meal,” Bishop said as she took a majority of the food. “After breakfast, we will walk around the village. I will leave you alone for an hour or two so I can check the surrounding area, so be on your best behavior.”

“Yes, Proctor,” Gregory said, wondering about Bishop’s harshness toward the innkeeper.

~*~*~

After a silent breakfast, Gregory followed Bishop into the village. The villagers stared at them with a combination of fear and awe, and those who were coming of age stared at Gregory with envy. Bishop stopped and talked with the craftsmen and the elder of the town, inspecting the square where the stage and decorations waited.

Two hours after they had stepped outside, Bishop turned to him. “I’m going to check the area around the village to make sure no bane beasts prowl the area. While I’m gone, you represent the empire. Do not disappoint me.”

“I’ll do my best, Proctor.”

Giving him a wintery smile, Bishop headed away, her hand tapping the hilt of her sword as she went. Gregory watched her go and a feeling of anxiety crept over him.

Should I check the merchants? I have the money from the village, so maybe I can find something good. Yes… I should see about a new tunic, at least. My other one was pretty well destroyed by the bane wolf.

The first merchant had a collection of tinkered items for sale, from pots and pans to small blades, but nothing Gregory was interested in. The next merchant was a jovial fat man who laughed a lot. His cart was full of spices, herbs, and other cooking ingredients. Going to the third cart, Gregory felt hopeful, seeing the colorful cloth draped over the side of this wagon.

“Ah, are you seeking to buy something?” the lanky, bald merchant asked with a grin. “Perhaps something for a young lady? I have a number of dresses that would be well received.” With a deft movement, he presented an emerald dress to Gregory. “Made with fine cotton.”

Gregory shook his head. “You have it wrong. I have no woman to buy for.” A pang of guilt made him think of Amoria and how that dress would make her face light up. “I hope to buy a tunic or two for myself.”

“Ah, I can do that, young sir. My tunics are on the other side of my cart. I even have one made from a wonderful light blue silk.”

“I need solid tunics that can stand the rigors of travel,” Gregory said, following the merchant to the far side of the cart.

“Ah, travel tunics? Yes, I have a number of them, as well,” the merchant said, his excitement dimming. “Here are a dozen. Let me know when you have found what you want.”

Gregory thanked him and looked through the selection. After some time, he had two tunics; one light brown and the other green. “Sir, these two tunics? How much?”

“Seventy vela for both,” the merchant smiled.

“That much?” Gregory said, thinking about all the time he had spent in the Delarosa’s home. “The stitching is good, but not great, and the material would be better suited for the winter months, not the summer months that we are in.”

The merchant stared at Gregory for a long moment. “You aren’t from this village, are you?”

 “I’m from Alturis,” Gregory replied.

A dawning light began to fill the merchant’s eyes. “Would you happen to know the Delarosas?”

“I do,” Gregory admitted. “They are shrewd when it comes to cloth.”

The merchant chuckled, “You were the one that hung around with their daughters. Why are you here and not there?”

“I’m on my way to train at the academy.”

“Magi…” the merchant said softly.

“A novice,” Gregory corrected. “I would be interested in buying them, just not for seventy.”

“I meant no disrespect, magi,” the merchant said humbly. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked for so much to start. Forty for the both of them.”

“I took no offense,” Gregory said, handing over the forty vela. “These clothes are worth forty, at the least.”

The merchant bowed his head, accepting the coins without counting them. “It is an honor to serve, magi. If you have need of more clothing, my family has a small shop in the lower ring of Wesrik. Tell them you spoke with Nicholas Lagrand.”

“Wesrik is the home of the academy,” Gregory said. “I’ll likely be there in a week or two. Thank you.”

“What is your name, so I can listen for news of your journey?” Lagrand asked.

“Gregory Pettit,” Gregory replied.

“May Aether guide you,” Lagrand bowed his head again.

“May the Traveler watch over your journey, as well,” Gregory said.

Gregory headed for the inn to drop off his new tunics and to see about washing his old one.