The Final Life

by Andrew Mowere

  ***

  By the next week the two had found a small unnamed village (for they’d ignored the town considered allied to the manor). The place was populated by a number of smiling village folk who seemed as if the most trouble they had was an infestation of animals.

  In fact, when Glint and Azrael entered the quiet tavern that was exactly the issue at hand. The two offered to exterminate wolverines, which had apparently gone rabid and were thus beyond the means of the town’s people. The man asking was more than happy to gather the required sum of fifteen coppers for fifty wolverines killed, plus room and board for three days. The two were promptly shown to their room, which was slightly dingy but nothing too uncomfortable for either of them.

  “Thank you,” said Azrael to the bandana wearing tavern keeper, who promptly left the room. He then turned to Glint, who was examining the view of a few houses out of the one window in the room, which was placed out of the sun and as far away from the beds as possible. “Do you think they know that we’re Ability users?” the warrior asked, thinking of David’s reaction to his gauntlets glowing in the darkness.

  “Certainly not,” answered Azrael while looking through his backpack for something. At length he pulled out a comb, white in colour and studded with a single small ruby in its handle, which Glint wondered at. He hadn’t seen the comb among the possessions Azrael had taken from the villagers back at the manor. “Ability users are treated with a mixture of fear, jealousy and awe. It is simply likely that they think us to be Normal mercenaries or adventurers.” He combed his hair for a bit, then offhandedly remarked, “I’m going to leave this job to you.”

  “While you relax?” shot the warrior back with a smile. He had started to get more comfortable with the man’s presence, and knew he was always treated as an equal by him, despite the teasing. It seemed like the feeling was mutual, as Azrael theatrically mimicked being shot through the heart at the remark and exclaimed, “If only!” The man then continued more seriously, “I actually need to go say hello to an old friend of mine, as well as investigate the current politics of the area a bit.” Glint was surprised that someone as well educated as Azrael didn’t have that kind of information. Neither did the warrior, and so he said nothing as his friend continued, “Is it alright with you if you take care of this mission for me? We do need the money.”

  They did, Glint knew. He just laughed, “Fifty wolverines should be nothing to me. Does your friend live nearby?” he asked, changing into a white shirt that was only a bit too large for him. He was in a growth spurt and was getting growing pains at times from it, but exercise helped keep the pains at bay.

  “No, he lives in Britannia. In Aetheria, actually. There is a teleportation magician nearby whom I’ll pay for transportation.”

  Glint stiffened. The floating island was known to house some of the wealthiest aristocrats in the world. They also had the most developed civilization outside of Mti, where Odin was born and the Creationists still resided. Even public transportation was based on the power of Ability users and tools made by guilds in Aetheria. Towering spires made of the magical gold created through alchemy dotted the island, he’d heard. They overlooked Britannia like solemn guardians.

  “I heard the people there are all refined and of high quality blood. I heard they have the highest chances of having children with Abilities,” he remarked. He was now fully dressed, and looked at Azrael closely as the man finished brushing his hair. Was that where the necromancer hailed from?

  “Well,” the necromancer answered, “It’s true that many people are Ability users in Britannia, but that has more with their teaching methods than anything else.” He looked thoughtful for a bit, then offered his comb to Glint, who shook his head politely. He preferred to use his fingers for his own straight sandy hair. “Many people have some hidden talent or the other, and with a good teacher’s eye and proper nurture, many could grow to be productive. The problem here is that most areas are under the control of just one guild, unlike in Aetheria, so people are forced to learn that art as a child. If they have no talent for it, that’s that. That’s why nobles get their children tested in formal schools and then send them to the most appropriate guilds. Something similar happens in Kern, right here in Shien, but that’s because it houses your continental council’s grim table.”

  “Huh, I didn’t know that. So you’re saying all people are suited to some arts better than others? Like an affinity?”

  “To a certain extent,” answered the man. He looked as if he was in a hurry for some reason as he packed a few things into the black clothes he’d been clad in the first time Glint had seen him. They were simple, and he covered them almost completely by a black cloak tattered at the bottom. “At any rate, do not let the people in this village find out you are an Ability user. I should be back in three days, and then we will move on west from here.”

  Azrael moved out from his position in front of the window, brightening the room considerably, then simply walked out of the door, adding, “See you later. And remember, keep your identity hidden. I do not relish the Normals’ worship.”