I Want To Learn Magic Too!

About five months after I arrived in this new world, a very unusual visitor came to stay at the inn.

It was early in the day, before business usually picked up much. Miss Blanche and I were washing tables in the tavern when the brass bell above the door chimed, indicating that someone had entered the premises. Assuming it was Romy coming to start her shift, I turned around to greet her.

The person I saw instead was a character straight out of a fantasy novel.

Clothed in a dark blue traveler’s cloak that matched his shoulder-length hair, he looked like the kind of experienced globetrotter who had seen the world and was coming back home to tell the tale of his adventures.

Despite this, he was young—probably not much older than Romy. He could have been in the same class as my past self back in school if he had lived in Japan.

He had a noticeable white scar on the corner of his chin, which could have come from slipping in the bath or whatever, but something told me it had a more exciting origin. When he took a step forward I saw that he walked with a slight limp.

In his right hand he gripped a twisted wooden staff. It looked like it had been made from a single, uniquely shaped branch. At the end it curled into a loop, like the eye at the end of a needle. In the center of the eye, suspended in air rather than connected to the staff in any way, was a clear crystal orb filled with some kind of misty gray material.

There was no doubt in my mind. It was a magic staff. This was my first encounter with a real mage.

Miss Blanche immediately went into customer service mode. She stood straight and greeted the mage with a cheerful smile.

“Good morning, sir! Welcome to Tomkin’s Tavern and Inn! How can I help you?”

“I need a place to stay for at least two weeks, possibly more. Do you have any available rooms? I can pay for the first fourteen days up front.”

He reached into his cloak and withdrew a leather coin purse. Opening it up, he pulled out a handful of coins and showed them to Miss Blanche. I could see them gleaming from my position bent over the table. They were all imperial silvers, highly valuable currency minted in the Holy Empire, which was known for being economically reliable. I gawked. One of those coins would pay my salary for an entire week.

“Yes, of course!” Miss Blanche said. Her eyes widened, but she did a better job of keeping her composure than I did. “Allow me to go fetch the owner. If you are planning to stay for multiple days, you will want to talk to him.”

The mage nodded. “Very well.”

She hurried off, leaving me and the mysterious traveler alone in the tavern. I kept my head down. As much as I would have liked to ask him the burning questions I had about this world’s magic, I knew that, as a beastkin, it was best for me to maintain a low profile.

“I saw you staring at my staff,” the mage addressed me. “Are you interested?”

So much for my low profile! I underestimated how observant this guy was.

“Um, kinda,” I mumbled.

“The stuff inside the ball is actually a monster called a nebulite,” he explained. He lowered the staff so I could get a better look. “Its body is made of pure chromatic material, so it helps me to channel the elements I want to access while casting. Not all magic staves work this way, but they all share the trait of focusing your spiritual outpouring to make spell precision easier.”

I understood about half of what he said, if we’re being generous. But I still found it fascinating. There was a living creature inside that thing? How did it stay alive when it was confined to the inside of a crystal ball? Did it open up so the nebulite could come out at feeding time?

Before I had a chance to settle on a single inquiry, Mister Tomkin burst into the room in his usual boisterous way. I quickly went back to cleaning so it wouldn’t look like I had been slacking off.

“Hullo, my good sir! I’m assumin’ you’re our prospective guest the maid was tellin’ me about. That right?”

“It is,” the mage answered simply. “And am I correct in guessing that you are the owner of this establishment?”

“That I am! The name’s Talon Tomkin. Come, sit, and we’ll discuss your stay with us.”

Mister Tomkin sat down at the table I had just finished cleaning, and the mage took a seat across from him.

I got to work on mopping the floor. As I did, I noticed Miss Blanche peeking in through the door to the inn rooms. Like me, she was paying close attention to the cloaked traveler. That made me feel kind of jealous.

“You’re in luck,” Mister Tomkin said. “One of our best rooms juss opened up. It’s a tad pricier than the others, but I’m sure a gentleman such as yourself would do with no less than the best accommodations we have to offer.”

I knew for a fact that none of the rooms in the inn had been occupied for the last several days. Also, while he was obviously well off, gentleman seemed like a bit of an elevated title for a mysterious wanderer. Talon Tomkin was nothing if not a shrewd salesman.

“Price is no issue,” the mage stated. Mister Tomkin beamed.

“In that case, we’ll getcha set up right away! If I may ask, what’s your reason for stickin’ around in these parts? If it’s private I won’t pry, but I’m always curious when a guest wants to lodge with us for more than a few days.”

“I have no problem with telling you. I’m on a research trip. Specifically, I’m going to be spending some time studying the nearby shrine to the Water Dragon and the effect it has on the surrounding wildlife.”

A water dragon? No one had ever mentioned something like that to me. If there was a shrine to the dragon, did that mean it was an object of worship?

“That run down place?” Mister Tomkin said incredulously. “Nobody goes there any more. Haven’t since… well, you know. Are you sure that’s what you’re here to see?”

The mage nodded. “In fact, I am particularly interested in it because the site is no longer regularly attended or maintained. Its declining magic should behave very differently from an active shrine’s, if my theories are correct.”

“Well I’ll be. Don’t know much about magic myself, but I wish you luck with your researchin’. Now, about that payment…”

***

The mage’s name was Verne Aubert. It didn’t take me long to memorize it, because once his payment was finalized and it was a sure thing that he would be staying at the inn for at least two weeks, I decided I wanted to learn as much as I could about magic from him before he left. It might be the best chance I would ever get to pick up spellcasting, and I wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass me by.

It took less effort than I expected to convince him to teach me. He enjoyed talking about magic, and while he did intend to spend multiple days at a time at the shrine because of the time it took to get there and back, he didn’t have much else to do on the days in between when he was actually at the inn. I would be a helpful distraction, he told me.

His fourth day after arriving at Tomkin’s was my first day of magic lessons.

We sat at a table in the corner of the tavern, away from the bustle of patrons chatting with Romy and drinking their sorrows away. I worked extra hard that day so Mister Tomkin would agree to take over the cooking for me while I was undergoing my instruction.

At Verne’s prompting, I explained to him what I already knew. He nodded along and corrected me on a few minor details I got wrong. I decided not to share my conjectures about black magic. I figured if he was interested in talking about it, unlike everyone else I had spoken to, it would come up naturally in our conversation.

“Good, you know basic magic classification at least. What about its source? Where would you say magic comes from?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“In that case, we’ll start there. How many bodies do you have, Seiji?”

That was a shocking question for me. My previous body was probably decaying in the ground at this point, or stored in an urn in the form of fine powder.

“Just one,” I answered after a moment’s hesitation.

“Wrong. You have two: your physical body, and your spiritual one. Spirit is a non-physical material that exists in small amounts everywhere, but it is most prominent in living beings. It is a kind of energy that exists simultaneously on this plane of existence and another, which we refer to as the spirit realm. And it is very powerful. All magic is performed by making use of spirit.”

I thought back to the white void I had found myself in before I was reincarnated. Had that been the spirit realm? If it was, the me who communicated with the angel Tenshi while I was there was probably my spirit body, not my physical one.

“There are two separate ways that we utilize spirit when casting magic spells,” Verne went on. “They are manipulation, and generation. Manipulation is easier to grasp, and also generally easier to do. It involves using the spirit of things around you to move them or change their shape. Allow me to demonstrate.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial, which he emptied into his outstretched palm. It contained… dirt. Just ordinary dirt, as far as I could tell. What kind of person had vials of dirt on them at the ready?

Holding his hand over the table, he let the dirt slip through his fingers and pile up like the sand in an hourglass. Hey, I’m the one who’s gonna have to clean that up, you know!

His hand in the same position above the table, Verne extended his fingers and spoke a single word that I didn’t understand. The particles of dirt slowly levitated into the air. A faint bronze glow surrounded them as they formed into a tiny dirt stream and began to whirl around in circles, tracing intricate patterns above the table.

It was mesmerizing to watch. Real magic, being performed right in front of me. So awesome!

Just as carefully as it had lifted itself, the dirt pile came to rest again in the middle of the table.

“Now you try it.”

“What, me? I don’t know the spell yet.”

“You mean the incantation? That part isn’t necessary. It helps to get the element that you’re commanding to do exactly what you want it to, similar to the function of a staff or wand, but all you need to do right now is get the dirt to move in the first place. Incanting won’t make that any easier.”

So individual spells were commands, kind of like a line of code. That made enough sense.

“How do I do it, then?”

“Elementary technique is a bit hard to explain… Try closing your eyes, and picturing the dirt in your mind. The mind is more closely connected to the spirit realm than your physical senses are. I want you to hone in on your mental image of the dirt pile until you can feel its presence without having to see it.”

I did as I was told. At first I felt nothing. Unless you count the itch in my left ear that I was dying to scratch.

I concentrated harder. Using the technique I had gained ample practice in during my time in solitary confinement, I dissociated from my own body and became a part of my surroundings. Sounds and sensations passed through me, never penetrating the self that I was no longer part of. I imagined that I was the dirt, sitting lifelessly on the table, waiting to be molded.

I got it. It was faint, but I could feel the dirt’s being somehow, less than a meter away from me, glowing softly with a warmth that reminded me of my brief stint in the spirit realm.

“Okay, what do I do now?”

It took a second before I heard Verne respond. “Try lifting the dirt off the table. Not physically—visualize it moving up just slightly, then make your visualization a reality.”

Hella vague instructions, but I followed them anyway. The dirt’s spirit shifted about ten centimeters up.

“Now open your eyes.”

As I allowed light to penetrate my pupils, I was amazed to see that the real dirt in front of me was levitating above the table in a tiny swirling ball, a faint bronze light radiating from it.

I was so amazed that I almost dropped it. It jerked downward for a second before I caught and stabilized it in place.

I was doing magic. Me. Itten Seiji had just cast a magic spell.

“You picked that up impressively fast,” Verne said. “I thought your first lesson would consist entirely of learning to visualize and tap into spiritual power. Like I said, it isn’t easy to teach. One could even consider what you’ve just done the hardest part of the process. The rest is simply learning different ways to apply it.”

I set the dirt down. It took a lot of concentration to keep holding it there.

“Is using magic really that easy?” If that was so, why didn’t everyone in this world know how to do it?

Verne shook his head.

“In theory it’s surprisingly simple, but casting complex spells involves controlling much larger amounts of spirit, which gets unwieldy the more you choose to access. Not only that, you have to have an understanding of the spiritual nature of the materials you’re utilizing, and often you have to combine multiple chromatic elements in specific ways to get your desired effect. Since even experienced mages usually specialize in one, some powerful spells require multiple mages in order to cast them. There’s far more to learn than any one person can ever fully grasp.”

That reminded me. I didn’t know what kind of magic Verne specialized in.

“Which element do you use, Verne-sensei?”

Verne raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What does sensei mean?”

“Oh, it’s a word in my native language. It means teacher, basically.”

“I see. That’s an acceptable title for me, I suppose. In terms of my specialty… I don’t have one. I’m more of a scholar than a full-fledged mage, and I’m interested in all magical principles, so I have more practice in each one than any specialist does, but I’m not capable of casting any of the highest level spells. I even have a working knowledge of white magic, beyond just the basic healing that everyone learns.”

“What’s the difference between white, black, and chroma magic? Mechanically speaking.”

I was already aware from Miss Blanche’s explanations that chroma spells controlled the elements, and that white magic was used for healing and blessing. It was how they differed in application that I was curious about.

“That’s a good question. It has to do with the second form that magic takes, generation. When we manipulate the elements, we are controlling spiritual power outside of ourselves. Moving and shaping the spirit in other materials, like you did with the dirt pile. Generation is more internal. You use the power of your own spiritual body to affect yourself or others more directly. For example, magical healing is a white magic technique that involves giving some of your spirit to someone else in order to bolster theirs, which in turn speeds up their physical body’s ability to repair itself. Because you consume some of your limited supply of spirit to create an effect, spells like that are called generative spells.”

Consuming your own magical power, like MP in a video game. I could follow that idea pretty well.

“So white magic is generative, while chroma magic is manipulative?”

“No, not exactly,” Verne said. “If you find yourself unable to get enough natural resources to cast a chromatic spell, you can convert part of your own spiritual body into elemental spirit in order to generate the elements you need instead. Create Water is a common generative elemental spell, for instance. But for the most part you are correct. Unlike chroma spells, which focus on external elements in your environment, the source of white magic is always your own spiritual power. The spirit in living things is of a different variety than the spirit found in inanimate materials like rocks or the wind, and that distinction is what defines the difference between white and elemental magic.”

“…What about black magic?” I asked hesitantly.

“It’s similar to white magic, but considering your character I think we both know that it would be impossible for you to use in the first place, so it’s not worth dwelling on.”

What did he mean by that? Based on my character, like my personality? If I was a good person or not? Verne must have had a bad read on me in that case.

Then again, I had been given a fresh start, and so far I had lived a peaceful, honest second life. Maybe it was fair to call myself a good person at this point. Wasn’t that what second chances were all about?

***

As my magic training continued, I spent more and more time in the tavern, and outside where I had room to practice my spells without accidentally spraying water or sand all over the customers. Mister Tomkin didn’t approve, but I had yet to suffer from any major acts of discrimination, so I figured it was fine.

Verne-sensei ended up staying for much longer than just two weeks. Apparently the Water Dragon shrine was even more interesting than he had expected, and he was taking his time to thoroughly investigate every aspect of it.

That meant more magic classes for me, so I was more than happy to have him around. Not to mention he was just a cool, understanding guy. It felt like he got me more than anyone else I had met so far since my reincarnation.

Winter had passed recently, so it was still cold out during our lessons. I got really good at the spell for starting fires by drawing the fire element out of wood, and at ice spells, since cooling water the small amount needed to freeze it was relatively easy.

Sometimes I worked up enough of a sweat while practicing that I had to take my shirt off despite the cold, although that could have had to do with all the mini fires I was starting too. By this point my side was completely healed, so my days of being wrapped up in bandages were long gone. There was still a long scar where the gash the jackalope gave me used to be, though.

I noticed Miss Blanche staring at it at one point during my training, but I was too embarrassed to say anything about it. It wasn’t surprising that her eyes would be drawn there—that damn rabbit had left a pretty noticeable mark.

The most interesting thing I learned from Verne-sensei after my initial lesson was magical affinities. Apparently each of the three major races—humans, elves, and beastkin—had an affinity with one of the three magic principles that gave them a natural advantage when using it. Humans had an affinity for chroma magic, meaning they could manipulate the elements better than anyone. Elves were especially good at using white magic. And beastkin like me had a black magic affinity.

Because of course I had to be naturally best at using the type of magic that I apparently couldn’t use.

At least things could be worse. Being able to use magic at all was a big plus, from my perspective.

Between cleaning with Miss Blanche in the mornings, cooking in the afternoons, and Verne’s lessons or solo magic practice in the evenings, I was more than a little busy. I didn’t mind though. Being busy was much better than not doing anything.

I did regret having less time to spend with Miss Blanche, but she was encouraging about my magic studies, and on certain days when Verne-sensei was at the shrine later than usual we would sneak out and have little picnics together by the edge of the forest.

Kind of ironic to share a meal in the very same place where I had almost become worm food, but not enough to keep me from going.

On one particular evening nearly a month after Verne-sensei’s arrival at the inn, right before my lesson with him was supposed to start, I was waiting at our table in the corner of the tavern. Miss Blanche was serving food to the patrons, as usual. Nothing to be concerned about. At least it wouldn’t have been if my cat ears didn’t pick up a vile conversation going on between a group of thuggish men at a table near mine.

“All the guys are distracted by the girl at the bar, but that maid is pretty damn cute too, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, and young, too. She’s gotta be, what, sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Fresh off the vine. Just the way I like ‘em.”

“Pretty buxom for a sixteen year old, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’d love to get my hands on those juicy lumps of hers, if you get my meaning.”

Juicy lumps? What the hell? At least approach your lechery with a bit of class.

“Woah, have you noticed her ears? That means she’s an elf!”

“Even better. Hot and exotic.”

Seriously disturbing. I wanted to vomit. I really wanted to go show those guys what’s what, but they legally hadn’t done anything wrong yet, so I could get in trouble for roughing them up. And there was Mister Tomkin’s reputation to think of. So I disassociated and tuned them out instead.

A minute later, Miss Blanche dropped by their table to serve them their food.

“Three orders of stew, two of bread and cheese, and a meat pie to split. Did I get that right?”

“Sure did,” one of the thugs answered. “But there is one more thing you could do for us.”

“What’s that?” Miss Blanche asked innocently.

“Let us show you a good time.”

“Yeah, what time do you finish work, sweetheart?”

“Well, I… I’m flattered, but… eek!”

One of the guys had reached a hand around behind her to cop a feel. He was grinning maliciously, every one of his yellow teeth on full display.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I shot up and charged the thug’s table, swatting the guy’s hand away from Miss Blanche. My claws latched onto the front of his shirt collar and I dragged him to his feet.

“Hey, you got a problem?” His grin didn’t dissipate as he turned it toward me. His buddies all glared at me. He was confident that I wouldn’t start any real trouble with them around.

I had enough experience from getting into fights in school to know that throwing hands with him wasn’t a good idea. There was no way I could take all five of them at once.

“Leave her alone,” I growled from the depths of my throat. It came out so deep it almost sounded bestial.

“Or what? You’ll meow for help? Go on, meow, little kitty.”

To hell with reason. I slammed his face as hard as I could into the table.

The thug crumpled to the ground, holding his face and yowling in pain. His friends stood up. One of them put his hand on a knife at his belt.

Suddenly the massive form of Talon Tomkin loomed over us. His arms were folded in front of him, and his face was pinched with anger.

“You lot are gonna walk away right now, or you will never visit my establishment again. Got that?”

The thugs looked to the guy whose head I had bludgeoned. It seemed he was their ringleader. He grabbed the edge of the table and pulled himself back to his feet. A thin line of blood ran from his nose down to the corner of his lip.

Shooting me a sideways glance, he muttered, “Mangy cat,” before turning and walking out of the tavern. The other thugs followed him.

Miss Blanche was crying. Mister Tomkin was looking at me with a stern, disappointed expression. The rest of the tavern was silent—all eyes were on us. It was more than just a small scene that I had caused.

I screwed up. I had been doing so well, and all of a sudden my old, violent habits reared their ugly faces at me again. What was the point of a second chance if I was just going to cause the same problems I had before?

Mister Tomkin put a finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. He shook his head.

“This is why I told you to stay outta sight, Seiji. I can’t stop guys like that from treatin’ you that way if you go around bashin’ their brains in.”

“I thought it was romantic!” Romy leaned over the counter to shout. Miss Blanche blushed.

“Quiet, Romy,” Mister Tomkin bellowed. “Get back to work!”

“Sure thing, boss!”

Turning back to me, Mister Tomkin sighed.

“Look, I know your magic trainin’ is going well, and you’re feelin’ confident about yourself. That’s all good. But you’ve gotta consider that your bein’ here in the tavern causes a stir. I think we’ll all be happier if you keep things on the down low a bit more.”

I chose not to point out that the reason this particular altercation happened had nothing to do with me. Now wasn’t a good time to get into an argument with the tavern keeper.

Mister Tomkin could only be away from the kitchen for so long, so he went back to work. I looked at Miss Blanche. There were still tears running down her face, but surprisingly she was smiling.

“Thanks for saving me back there, Seiji. Master Tomkin may not see it this way, but you’re my hero.”

Then she planted a kiss on my cheek before leaving to resume serving tables.

I could have flown all the way to the moon right then and there. I seriously could have.

I wandered back to my corner table in a daze. Verne-sensei was there waiting for me when I sat down.

“Did you see all that?” I asked weakly.

“Most of it. It wasn’t very smart of you to pick a fight against five thugs, all of whom were bigger than you.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t feeling particularly smart just then.”

“Defending your lady friend was commendable, I’ll give you credit for that.”

“W-we aren’t together!” I waved my hands in front of me as if I could somehow physically clear up the misunderstanding. Maybe I could with magic?

Verne-sensei arched one of his eyebrows. “If you say so. Anyway, it felt somewhat… out of character for you, Seiji. You’re normally much more meek than that. When did you learn how to fight? I could tell from how you were standing that you’re used to things like this.”

“Um…” I struggled to come up with a good explanation. “I used to be… more that way. Violent, I guess. Back when I lived… somewhere else. Far away from here.”

Vernse-sensei nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

He had some hunch that I was a thug before? That wasn’t very nice. Did I really give off that impression?

But that wasn’t it at all. I assumed he was referring to me being a troubled teen. I didn’t think he could have known anything about where I came from.

“Seiji, you aren’t from this world, are you?”