NaNo practice
Again, starting from where I left off, and doing it for NaNo practice. In other words, small time limit (I have to go to bed soon anyway, and write down anything that comes to mind).
A group of urchins stood at the curb, playing a game that involved kicking a bean-filled sack around in a circle. Vellurium smiled wistfully. He remembered being a kid and having time for those sorts of idle pursuits. Granted, these children had it far worse than he ever did. Growing up as the son of a minor noble, he'd never lacked for comforts or amenities. But with privilege came obligations, and he had precious time available for himself when growing up. He was shuffled from one lesson to another until his skill with magic became apparent, and then sent off to Ellyria for training.
Then had come training, which had been harsh too. The first thing the mages teach you is how to control the magic, which is always a difficult task. One false move and it can consume you. Magic thrived on uncertainty and chance, which is exactly what teaching abhorred. Accidents were frequent, and it was not unheard of for young mages to die in training. The Elders did their best to shield and ward their charges, but they couldn't envision every possibility. And nature had a way of biting you in the ass when you least expected it.
At least the Academy had presented a safe social environment, such as it was. He'd had kids around him for the first time, without the barriers of class and privilege. In fact, his first friend had been the brother of the woman he was about to see, and they had formed a bond that had lasted for a lifetime. His friend's lifetime, at least. Too bad they were cut short so quickly.
Looking back at the kids, he couldn't help but reflect that that would likely be their lot too, and much too soon. The life of a street kid was often nasty, brutish, and short, and half of them might very well be dead by tomorrow. It was refreshing to see them engaging in enjoyable pasttimes; they may not get a chance for a while. Of course, that didn't stop him from keeping his hand firm around his satchel.
Moving onwards, he walked deeper into the warehouse district, the worn cobblestones digging roughly into his feet. He must get better shoes. This was not the finely paved rodes of Ellyria: for all the wealth in the great merchant houses, the Rohyrans did not have the resources to keep this part of the city well-maintained. And with decrepit infrastructure came decrepit humanity.
The streets were deserted here, and Vellurium wasn't sure whether that was a sign of safety or danger. Off in the distance, he could still hear the bustle of the docks, but there wasn't much human activity here. Off in the gutter, a few rats scurried: Vellurium was glad that his healing skills worked well against diseases, because who knew what plagues they might bear? They rustled through the offal lining the streets, eating all sorts of detritus. Maybe the human inhabitants just knew to stay away. Good for them.
The streets got narrower and darker, squeezed between tall buildings storing goods bound for all over the world. Vellurium was sure that at least some transportation happened inside the warehouses themselves, they were so big, and so there was good reason for the neglect on the streets.
He wondered briefly: coudl he have taken a wrong turn somewhere? He had always been terrible at directions: growing up, a chauffeur or horseman had always taken care of that. It would not do to get lost in this part of the city. At least he had his magic to protect him.
All he felt was a gentle tug on his shoulder. But that was enough to tell him: his satchel was gone! How could a thief have been so quick and so invisible? He should have had warning long before any cutpurse could get close.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a slight flicker. Perhaps the thief had an invisibility charm? He ran after it. He wasn't sure exactly where he was going, but he knew that the thief wouldn't just stand still, and he had important things in the satchel.
Where had they gone? The streets were deserted - again - with no trace of an occupant. Not even footprints, other than his own, and one would expect a person to leave footprints in the heavy dust coating the cobblestones.
He heard a faint scuffling, off down by an alley, and turned to follow. The alley ran between two squat, square, heavy stone structures, both built in the spare archituctural style of Rohyr. He hesitated briefly at the mouth - the alley was dark, narrow, with limited visibility, and he wasn't sure how safe it would be to follow.
But in the end, necessity won over prudence, and he followed...
A group of urchins stood at the curb, playing a game that involved kicking a bean-filled sack around in a circle. Vellurium smiled wistfully. He remembered being a kid and having time for those sorts of idle pursuits. Granted, these children had it far worse than he ever did. Growing up as the son of a minor noble, he'd never lacked for comforts or amenities. But with privilege came obligations, and he had precious time available for himself when growing up. He was shuffled from one lesson to another until his skill with magic became apparent, and then sent off to Ellyria for training.
Then had come training, which had been harsh too. The first thing the mages teach you is how to control the magic, which is always a difficult task. One false move and it can consume you. Magic thrived on uncertainty and chance, which is exactly what teaching abhorred. Accidents were frequent, and it was not unheard of for young mages to die in training. The Elders did their best to shield and ward their charges, but they couldn't envision every possibility. And nature had a way of biting you in the ass when you least expected it.
At least the Academy had presented a safe social environment, such as it was. He'd had kids around him for the first time, without the barriers of class and privilege. In fact, his first friend had been the brother of the woman he was about to see, and they had formed a bond that had lasted for a lifetime. His friend's lifetime, at least. Too bad they were cut short so quickly.
Looking back at the kids, he couldn't help but reflect that that would likely be their lot too, and much too soon. The life of a street kid was often nasty, brutish, and short, and half of them might very well be dead by tomorrow. It was refreshing to see them engaging in enjoyable pasttimes; they may not get a chance for a while. Of course, that didn't stop him from keeping his hand firm around his satchel.
Moving onwards, he walked deeper into the warehouse district, the worn cobblestones digging roughly into his feet. He must get better shoes. This was not the finely paved rodes of Ellyria: for all the wealth in the great merchant houses, the Rohyrans did not have the resources to keep this part of the city well-maintained. And with decrepit infrastructure came decrepit humanity.
The streets were deserted here, and Vellurium wasn't sure whether that was a sign of safety or danger. Off in the distance, he could still hear the bustle of the docks, but there wasn't much human activity here. Off in the gutter, a few rats scurried: Vellurium was glad that his healing skills worked well against diseases, because who knew what plagues they might bear? They rustled through the offal lining the streets, eating all sorts of detritus. Maybe the human inhabitants just knew to stay away. Good for them.
The streets got narrower and darker, squeezed between tall buildings storing goods bound for all over the world. Vellurium was sure that at least some transportation happened inside the warehouses themselves, they were so big, and so there was good reason for the neglect on the streets.
He wondered briefly: coudl he have taken a wrong turn somewhere? He had always been terrible at directions: growing up, a chauffeur or horseman had always taken care of that. It would not do to get lost in this part of the city. At least he had his magic to protect him.
All he felt was a gentle tug on his shoulder. But that was enough to tell him: his satchel was gone! How could a thief have been so quick and so invisible? He should have had warning long before any cutpurse could get close.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a slight flicker. Perhaps the thief had an invisibility charm? He ran after it. He wasn't sure exactly where he was going, but he knew that the thief wouldn't just stand still, and he had important things in the satchel.
Where had they gone? The streets were deserted - again - with no trace of an occupant. Not even footprints, other than his own, and one would expect a person to leave footprints in the heavy dust coating the cobblestones.
He heard a faint scuffling, off down by an alley, and turned to follow. The alley ran between two squat, square, heavy stone structures, both built in the spare archituctural style of Rohyr. He hesitated briefly at the mouth - the alley was dark, narrow, with limited visibility, and he wasn't sure how safe it would be to follow.
But in the end, necessity won over prudence, and he followed...