Chương 57: Chapter 55 – Tasting Battery.

"So yes, this is the one thing I need from you, and I warn you, this won't be easy. If you can do this, I'll cover the rest. Tuition, gear, books, food, bed. But if you can't do this, I can't work with you," Alric said. The boy was seventeen at most, all elbows and angles, with the stretched look of someone who had grown faster than he had ever been fed. His clothes were a patchwork of worn wool and mended seams that never quite lined up, clean enough to pass inspection but thinned to softness by years of use.

One hand was bruised across the knuckles, yellowing at the edges as if it had been struck days ago rather than that morning, and he kept flexing it unconsciously when he thought no one was looking. His hair was cut short in the uneven way of a street barber or a borrowed knife. He nodded and put his hand on the side. The metal was cool under his palm, unchanged by the heat of the room.

"Not quite there. See this metal here? There. Alright, you'll feel something like a tug. You just need to let it go." Alric saw the boy's eyes roll up in his head and he stepped forward quickly.

"Wha" was all the kid managed as Alric caught him. The boy's weight sagged suddenly, his knees failing without warning, as if his legs had quietly resigned.

"That was… so much worse than I knew," the boy said, slurring slightly as Alric struggled to keep him upright and steady. Alric put his own hand on the metal. He felt no tug or 'tap wanting to open' sensation. It was full. The faint vibration he had grown used to was gone. He grinned.

"Alright, you're hired." Alric lifted the boy, slightly surprised by how light he was.

"You are going to sleep now. You'll feel better in a bell, alright?" The boy nodded slowly, his chin brushing Alric's shoulder. Alric carried him through to his room and laid him on his own bed. The bedframe creaked softly under the added weight, as if protesting being involved. The boy rolled onto his side and went still, his chest rising rhythmically. Alric paused a moment longer than necessary, listening to the steady breathing, before straightening. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

He headed to the kitchen, where he found Seren sorting bowls.

"Listen, when the kid wakes up, feed him," he said with a grin. Seren nodded but gestured urgently, tapping the edge of the table once, the way you might tap a kettle to remind it to boil.

"I will, Mister Alric, but you need to leave. You're running late."

"I know. I'll be back late, alright. Adventurers, then magery," he said, already turning. Alric left at a brisk walk, the warehouse doors thudding shut behind him like a sensible person putting an end to nonsense. He turned off the main avenue, approaching the Adventurers' Guild. Some adventurers recognised him and waved. He smiled and winked back with a tilt of his head. This meeting was official, so he went through the front entrance.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of old leather and oil, the scent of people who kept promises and sharpened them. When he entered, the receptionist spotted him and pointed to a room. He gave a thumbs up and went to the room indicated. He knocked and entered. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but this was not it. The Adventurers' Guild master, Pavise, was sitting at the head of a table, wearing his armour and looking solemn.

Around the table were seven well-equipped adventurers, all sitting up straight where Alric had expected them to be lounging. The chairs were pulled in evenly, their boots placed carefully beneath them, as if someone had once said the word "meeting" and they had taken it personally.

"Ah. Alric, welcome. Please place the casks on the side table. Gil will pour for us. Please take a seat here," Pavise said with a wide smile, gesturing to the seat next to his. Alric had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He moved where indicated, and when he began placing the casks from his item box, he made the mistake of looking Gil in the eye.

Alric saw his own difficulty in staying serious reflected there, but Gil was struggling worse, like the room had made a quiet pact to behave and Gil had not signed it. The cask thumped softly as it met the table. They stared at one another longer than needed, which only made it worse. Alric managed to get the last cask out before sitting down.

"So… I have brought three different beers. Gil, the furthest, please," Alric said, pointing and breathing in deeply. Next to him, Pavise nodded solemnly. The seven other adventurers sat a little straighter, backs stiffening in unison, like a drill practiced in secret. Gil scoffed.

"So. The first is what I know as a pale ale. It's what you asked for. Easy-drinking beer, delicious, a bit weak for my tastes, but your judgements are what matter," he said as Gil began to pour out tankards. Liquid splashed softly against metal. Alric noted Gil poured to the brim. Empty air was an insult. He took a sip. It was everything he expected from a light beer. Fruity, light, and easy. He knew this as an American Pale Ale from his old world.

Everyone took a sip after him, and Alric was just glad he didn't have the ale in his mouth when they did, because he might have spat it out laughing. Everyone else seemed to meet it with great approval. Tankards were set down and lifted again as nods rippled around the table, measured and dignified, like men approving a bridge.

"This is great," came from one of the adventurers at the far end.

"Hmm. This isn't that light, though," Pavise said, eyeing the tankard.

"How would you describe it, Alric?"

"Personally, I'd say it's light, fruity, easy drinking, but by my taste this is a bit insipid," he gave an honest review.

"I see," Pavise said, frowning slightly after being told a blessing came with a warning label.

"Here's your problem, Pavise. You wanted an easy drinker, but I suspect most around this table could slam twenty of them." He gestured to the rest of the adventurers, who paused for a moment, then nodded in reluctant agreement. Pavise blinked and looked down at the table, fingers resting on the wood as the logic settled, heavy and unavoidable. Alric finished the rest of his tankard, and the rest followed.

"So the next one is against all your wisdom. It is not light. It is not an easy drinker at all. It's very hoppy, as I would call it, and blown out with flavour, but… you'll see," Alric explained as Gil began to pass out what he would consider an Indian pale ale.

"Well, I'm trusting you, Alric," Pavise said, and mumbled under his breath, "more than you know." Alric took a deep sip. This was more his wheelhouse, and it was delicious. He even finished his sip with a quiet "ahh," the sound of a man finding his own furniture again. Pavise took a deep draw.

"Ahh, that's good. But I do see what you mean. After maybe four, I'm not sure I'd want another."

"I'd slam six, like the brewer said," came from the far end of the table. Pavise's glare crossed the table like a thrown knife. The man withered and focused intently on his tankard, as if studying it might help him learn restraint. Alric sat back, just enjoying the beer while the rest discussed the merits. The room had grown warmer, armour creaking softly as people shifted in their seats, each tiny sound pretending it was not there.

"What is your thinking on the last one?" Pavise asked.

"The last one is what I know as brown ale. If I'm honest, it's a mix of grains and hops. It is one of my best beers. The idea is simply to drive what you said about good booze keeping adventurers nearby. It's very flavour-forward, and because I'm being honest, this was my first time making it," Alric explained as Gil began to distribute it. Alric took a deep pull of this one. It was delicious. The toasted barley and wheat gave it deep chocolate, caramel, and toffee notes. His shoulders slumped in pleasure.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Everyone, seeing his reaction, quickly lifted their tankards.

"Ahh. This one. I don't care. It has to be," came from an adventurer who half stood, chair scraping faintly. Pavise threw the fiercest glare Alric had ever seen, the effect somewhat spoiled by also reacting to a mouthful of beer. Alric was sorely tested in not laughing. It wasn't helped by Gil biting his hand as he stared at Alric, like a man witnessing a priest perform miracles in a tavern. Alric passed his tankard to Gil.

"Try it." Gil blinked and reached for the tankard. He tried it, and his shoulders slumped as well. Alric had a twinkle in his eye as he looked around the table. Reactions were varied. Some had closed eyes. Some stared at walls. One drained his tankard and gave Gil a meaningful look, silently saying there were plans to be made and none of them involved sobriety.

"Oh, this is hard," Pavise said, having taken more sips.

"Well. You don't need to pick today. The beer in those casks is yours. You paid for it already, but I'll need to know tomorrow," Alric explained to Pavise, who seemed a bit shaken. The rest of the room was silent, but more than one person was staring at Gil, who ignored them with the practiced indifference of a man who had served too many drunk heroes.

"How do you do this, Alric?" Pavise asked.

"I can't answer that for you. I'd rate them out of ten, but you have other factors to consider. Profit is one, and well…" Alric pointed to the largest adventurer other than Pavise.

"And what happens when he starts buying beer by the cask," he said with a small grin. The adventurer in question responded with a huge smile.

"I'm going to leave you all to it, though. Just know the brown ale is a bit more expensive than the others." Pavise nodded, standing and shaking hands. The scrape of armour echoed briefly in the room. Alric managed to hold it together until he was out of the room. When he heard shouting back inside, he broke and started giggling. He'd never seen people try so hard to appear solemn, and he suspected some of them were going to fail at it loudly. Alric headed back onto the main avenue. It was mid-morning at best.

He let out a sigh as he dodged someone riding a horse followed by a cart, then bumped shoulders with someone walking. Hooves rang sharply against stone. This was, however, the norm when heading toward the gate. Once past it, traffic flowed a bit better, as if the street itself had agreed to behave outside official walls. Finally passing through, his thoughts returned to the meeting. The only mages he knew were at the Magery. They would have to know a tutor, or something close to one. He frowned.

He hoped this wouldn't be too expensive, but his experience with magic had taught him otherwise, and it had taught him quickly. His mind wandered, and eventually he found himself approaching what the locals called the Nob Bridge. This time, he observed the guards carefully. Again, they saluted him and stepped aside. Their armour clinked softly as they moved, each piece politely announcing itself. At least they didn't greet him by name this time.

Crossing the bridge, he glanced toward the docks, wondering if there was some way to leverage them before they were cut off from view as he entered the gate on the far side. He approached the Magery, took a deep breath, and entered. Immediately, he felt a pang in his chest. It was the same mage he'd offended on his first visit. He felt himself wanting to click his tongue but approached anyway. The mage behind the desk glanced up and immediately began to shuffle papers.

Alric winced internally, expecting to be thrown out.

"Good day. Erm. I wanted to apologise about our previous misunderstanding," she said, tilting her head.

"I realised later that anyone from far away enough might not know how a bell works here."

"Oh, good. Thank goodness. I was worried," Alric said, relief flooding his voice.

"I wanted to apologise the last few times I've come through, but you weren't here."

"There is no need. I've also been busy," she said, gesturing to the table. Alric nodded and glanced at a page. His mind began to do the strange warp it did with text, but this time he sensed a wrongness on the page rather than confusion, like hearing a familiar song played with the wrong notes and being unable to explain it.

"Uh. Mind if I take a look?" he asked. She shrugged and slid the page toward him. It was a list of terms, each followed by an equals sign and another word. The words didn't match.

"Are you doing translation work?" he asked. She nodded.

"Alright. This here isn't mana flow, it's mana control. And this isn't spell casting. It says spell weaving," he said, pointing. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time his bizarre way of reading text had been useful, which was a modest triumph, like discovering your worst habit is occasionally a tool.

"What?" she said, snatching the page. She scanned it, then sat down and flipped urgently through a book. Pages rustled sharply. She found the passage, then let out a long sigh.

"Can you read this line to me?" she asked. Alric had to move around to get a proper view.

"It says, 'The essence of elven spell weaving is about layering parts of compatible spells into others during the chant, where syllables line up,'" he read, rubbing his temples as the familiar headache began. She sighed again and began writing quickly.

"Right. You came here for something, I'm sure," she said after a moment.

"Yes. I'm looking for a tutor for a mage. I don't suppose you'd be interested, would you? I'll pay," he said. She smiled and rolled her eyes.

"No thanks. I deal with enough nobles already."

"Oh, that's no problem. This one can barely afford his pants," Alric said with a chuckle.

"Still, it would be a pain," she said, tilting her head. Alric got the sense she wasn't entirely opposed.

"I can only sweeten the deal one way," he said carefully.

"Send him home with any words you're struggling to translate, and I might be able to correct them." She was quiet for a long moment, pen resting against the page, as if considering whether this was a bargain or a trap that happened to be polite.

"He's poor, I take it?" she asked. Alric nodded.

"You'll cover his costs? His starting kit isn't cheap."

"How much?" Alric asked, bracing.

"Seventy-five silver for the basics. More later when he needs better books." He let out a long breath of relief. He'd expected far worse. Then he remembered that this was an impossible sum for a poor family, and his relief grew a sharp edge.

"I can pay in small silvers now, if you like," he said, reaching for his item box. She blinked and set down a bowl as he poured them out, the coins chiming softly, like they were trying to sound smaller than they were.

"If you want a proper set, you'd usually need to wait. But I do have one a noble ordered, then discovered their child had almost no mana. If you're alright with that, you won't have to wait." Alric nodded, and she grinned before disappearing into the storage room. She returned with a small chest.

"Let's talk tuition first," Alric said.

"He'll do translation work four days a week. Two days will be one-on-one tuition. I won't charge beyond that if you keep your word about translation work. Otherwise, it's a gold a month." Alric winced. Then he thought about the boilers. About winter. A boiler could earn him a gold a week. He blinked, then shrugged. A few headaches a week seemed manageable, and he had already collected a respectable number. He offered his hand.

"I'm Alric. How do we get your new apprentice over the bridge?"

"I'm Margaret," she said, shaking his hand.

"There's a Magery emblem on the robes. The guards will let him through." She tapped the chest. Alric grinned at how neatly it had come together. It was the sort of neat that usually turned out to be a lie later, but for now it held. Some time later, He was on his way back to the warehouse when his thoughts turned to recent events. He could compare the kid's interview to Lessa's. Lessa hadn't said a whole lot. She had been drifting, it seemed, looking for any kind of work.

Alric had found the whole interview exhausting. It was difficult not to stare and still maintain his train of thought. She hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, it had been his problem, and the world had not provided him with the manners to pretend otherwise. Still, he had faith in Mara and had hired her. Lessa would be commuting for a while, looking after a sick family member. Alric was sure she had told him which family member, but details of the whole interview felt fuzzy.

He turned off the main avenue to the warehouse district as his thoughts returned to the kid's interview. He could positively smell the desperation, sharp and familiar, but for the life of him he couldn't remember the boy's name. Alric let out a sigh as he dodged a handcart. The wheel rattled loudly over uneven stone, insisting on a conversation no one had asked for. The man pulling it was not from the carters' guild, he noted, considering he had met all eight of them. The warehouse was now at capacity for rooms.

That only worked because Jory would be staying in his dockside home. Henry was also bunking with his brother, Jase. Jase had been an easy interview. He was a strong-looking kid, but a little brighter than his brother. He'd been surprisingly honest, saying he didn't know if this was for him, but he wanted to give it a shot anyway, which was about as much ambition as most people could afford.

He brought the chest out of his item box and did a small side-to-side jig as he entered, because there were days when a man had to take his victories however they came. They hadn't operated that day, needing his item box while the frame was built, so the team were cleaning and managing grain instead. Brushes scraped along wood and sacks shifted quietly. Alric inhaled the familiar smell deeply as he headed toward the staff section. He found the boy in the kitchen dining room.

He was eating, and Seren was making sure of it. A spoon scraped steadily against a bowl. He looked exhausted, but that did nothing to dampen Alric's mood.

"Alright, kid. Your job for me is charging the station," Alric said with a grin.

"Your mage work will be translation four days a week. Tuition the other two. One-on-one." He nodded in the general direction of the Magery.

"You'll eat, sleep, and live here, but work there." He pushed the chest toward him. It slid only a little before stopping against the table's edge, as if the table believed in limits.

"You're going to be a mage." The boy opened the chest with shaking hands. Inside were robes, a small stack of basic books, and a simple wand.

"This is… this is real?" he asked. Alric nodded.

"It's real. Also, I'm giving you a nickname. From now on, you're Battery." Battery stared down at the contents for a long moment. His grip tightened until his knuckles went pale.

"Right," he said, and the word came out wrong. He swallowed, nodded once, and pressed the chest back against himself as if afraid it might vanish. Alric noticed the pause linger a second too long. He felt the guilt arrive anyway. It was familiar by now, and like most familiar things, it sat where you put it and refused to move.