Book 1, Verse 8

Niels wasn’t happy when the two of us walked back inside, but after Vivian showed him that she was going to pay for my drinks, he allowed her to stay a little longer.

Once that was settled, he looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Vivian went back to her seat at one of the farther tables and pulled the hood over her head again.

“So, what’ll you have?” He asked, unexcited.

“Just a… do you have anything for people with weak stomachs?” I asked politely.

He raised an eyebrow.

“How weak, exactly?”

“Extremely.”

“I use lilygrain instead of stalks, if that’s worth anything.”

“I don’t know what difference that makes to me.”

“Alright, non-alchemical then.” Niels deftly went about his barrels and began crafting my drink.

In the real world; correction, in my world, I had a pretty decent alcohol tolerance. John said it was surprising, considering my size.

Niels placed my drink on the counter of the bar. It was a strange, milky-white color. As I stared it down, I was a little concerned.

I didn’t know anything about alcohol or food in this world; and he’d called it non-alchemical, not even non-alcoholic.

“What are you staring at it for?” Niels asked, unimpressed.

“I’m waiting for the history lesson to start.” I replied blandly.

“Right.” He sighed. “World history or just the history of Mandl?”

I resisted the urge to ask where Mandl was; a little bit of critical thinking and context told me it was probably the country I was currently in.

“History of Mandl, please.”

“Okay. Let me pull out my notes.” He squatted down and started rummaging through one of the drawers that was built into the bar’s counter.

I glanced over to where Vivian was sitting. It looked like she was sleeping again, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

“Do you have anything to take notes with, or are you really confident in your memory?” Niels asked once he reappeared behind the counter. He placed a ragged, leather-bound tome on the counter and opened it to a section near the middle.

The handwriting in the book was dense and neat, as if it had been written by a typewriter.

“I wouldn’t mind some note-taking equipment.” I said politely.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” He replied calmly, but didn’t move at all. “Alright then; in the wake of the war between Fizzl & Pershin, a few roving bands of–”

My expression went blank as he began his lesson.

“W-wait, aren’t you going to give me anything? I didn’t bring any supplies with me.”

He shrugged.

“That costs extra. Besides, don’t wizards like you carry spellbooks and writing supplies in order to keep track of all the steps you go through to use magic?” He sounded a bit condescending.

“I don’t use a spellbook.” I said quickly.

His pointed ears twitched.

“Really? Color me impressed. Did you attend one of those fancy magic schools or were you self-taught?”

“Self-taught.” I replied.

“Wow.” He whistled appreciatively.

The drunk woman was still on the other side of the bar, and she called for another drink. He quickly responded and poured her a glass of a pale green liquid. She began sipping on it slowly as he returned to me.

“If your memory’s that good, then you should be fine listening, right? Unless you’re just not ready for some hard learning.” He smirked.

I leaned back in my chair.

“Let me put it this way; I was top of my–” I stopped, remembering that I was ‘self-taught.’ “I mean, there’s a reason I’m so good despite being self-taught. I can handle your little lesson, elf.”

“Let’s see if that’s the case.” He chuckled. “You should get started on your drink. That stuff tastes much better when it’s still cool.” He pointed at the milky-white substance in my glass.

“Right.” I said and grabbed the tall glass with one hand. It was cold. Considering I didn’t see an icebox anywhere, and the fact that this world seemed to be relatively simple when it came to technology, there must be magic at play with keeping drinks cool.

I took a small, testing sip of the drink.

“Oh! This is milk!”

Niels laughed again.

“First try! Most people can’t guess what it is until their second glass.” He shook his head slowly. “You’re interesting. You’re a wizard without a spellbook, who is self-taught, doesn’t know history, and yet is familiar with the taste of milk.”

It was my turn to look surprised.

“Is milk extremely rare?” I asked, intrigued.

He leaned on the counter on his left elbow and shook his right hand, in order to gesture that I wasn’t entirely correct.

“Usually only wealthy families or their servants have it. Are you some kind of disgraced noble?” He angled his face at me expectantly.

I opened my mouth to respond, but stopped.

My family had never been incredibly wealthy. We lived in a modest single-story house. My father worked as an accountant to support me, my mother, and my sister.

Me and my sister had, as children, been ungrateful brats sometimes. It was one of the reasons I wasn’t excited to start a family. Me and her used to constantly ask our parents for the latest toy or video game. Of course, as we both got older, that became less frequent.

But as I took another drink of the slowly warming milk, I really considered my surroundings.

Niels was wearing clothes that looked like they were made of simple cloth; the same kind of material that my dad used as rags to mess around in the garage.

His hair was a nice color of blonde, but it was splitting in parts and looked roughly kept, like he cut it himself. My own hair never looked like that when I was growing up.

The interior of the tavern had initially charmed me with its rustic appearance, though now that I was looking it over more closely, I could see that it wasn’t comfortable; there was no air conditioning, so the sweat that I built up outside wasn’t going away, and the chairs lacked any sort of cushion.

This place wasn’t awful; but compared to how I had lived up until this point, it was like night and day.

I finished the rest of the milk in one swallow and set the glass back down softly.

Up until today, I had never considered how blessed my family was.

“Yes. I am from a disgraced noble family, from a far-away land. I hope to make it back there one day soon.” I said soberly, wiping the milk off my upper lip.

Niels smiled and took the glass away.

“I knew it. We elves are pretty good at reading people.” He smirked, obviously pleased with himself. “Now, enough small talk, strange wizard. Prepare yourself for a rough lesson; I don’t slow down.”

“I’m ready when you are.” I put my elbows on the counter and placed my head on my folded hands, with my eyes narrowed confidently.

“That’s what they all say.” He chuckled and looked back down at his tome. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, a few roving bands of mercenaries settled down in the lands that would eventually…”

Thus began the history lesson from hell.