He woke up. The sun was out but there were still clouds in the sky obscuring it. He knew there was work to be done and he needed to get to it. The wizard had plans for the day.
His sorcerer’s guild had cast him out three days ago. For once, he didn’t dread getting ready, grabbing his bag with his few items he’d take along and heading out. For once, he felt unburdened and excited but he was still groggy but he knew it would pass. His familiar had knocked over some small books on his table. The playful little beast had curled up in a box next to it and slept, leaving him to clean up the mess.
“Must you always disgrace my small tomes of poetry?” he asked the feline that had curled up and not taken notice. He rose to his feet and gathered the water he would give to his gods in thanks for another day of vitality. He set the healing candle alight, poured the water and looked upon their representations. His protective amulets and rings still lay in their places. He would don them later.
He trudged toward two plants in respective windowsills and cast water onto both them and their soils. A Coneflower he’d planted had only sprouted through the soil a few days before. It made him smile and warmed his soul. Life, he thought, always finds a way.
He sat in meditation for a little while, reaching out with his powers to see some of the events in the world. Then, something disturbed his morning peace. There was a rumbling sound outside. He wondered what it could be.
Was it the sound of war-horses outside? It seemed to have stopped as soon as it began. He settled back into his state and reached out again. This time, the messages were specific. Those he could contact in his manner asked if he too had felt an earthquake. He responded that he had but was unaware that that’s what it was. He remembered one from years ago before embarking on his mystical path. At one point in time, he had felt the ground seemingly roll under his feet, something that both frightened and excited him in equal measure. It happened again, this very morning. He reached out a bit more and found that he lived just far enough from the epicenter that he felt it but only a little. It wasn’t anything massive, at least to him but people he contacted during his meditation felt it from a few lands away.
He was stirred from his reverie. He stood, stretched and proceeded to the room where he would clean himself and prepare for his day. He cleaned himself and selected his attire for the day, simple breeches, his shoes, a plain, black belt and a simple tunic. He mixed his morning potion, knowing that, without it, he wouldn’t be as alert as he liked. He turned to two items that he’d managed to save on his way out of his guild’s sanctum. The items were a statuette and a mortar and pestle made of bronze in the shape of an overturned bell. He’d saved them long ago but on his way out, he took them with him. He concentrated and sent the image of both to a friend for whom he’d trained under and asked if she still wanted them. She did. He smiled as he sipped his brew, his soul warming further.
He sat at his desk with his brew and pored over some materials. There was a shop that sold books and other items that interested him. He was certain to stop in. He would have to go out of his way, but it wasn’t something he minded. It wasn’t raining and that was all he needed. He finished his brew and placed his cup aside.
He approached his altar, hailed his gods, donned the pieces that he knew would protect and empower him through his day, pulled a hooded robe and cloak on, slung his bag across him, took up his Ironwood staff and headed out the door for the day.
He walked through the village.
He’d brought along a scroll to which he’d attuned his hearing, listening to it read itself to him the entire way. He’d taken a left, down a set of steps and into a forest. The trail, he saw, was immediately flooded out by a puddle. He knew the shoes he wore were inadequate to ford it, however, his staff allowed him to find sure footing as he continued his trek and began walking along the river.
In several spots, he slipped and nearly lost his balance. He grumbled to himself a bit. He lamented the green canopy not being in the spot where it normally was. He had to step around many of these large puddles but the river ran strong and he followed it, finding a bit of solace in it’s flow. He’d seen it rushing beneath a bridge he had to use to finally cross it and he stopped long enough to watch it rushing under his feet.
He continued his journey until he’d reached the city where the stores of tomes awaited him. The streets were larger, the traffic of people coming and going looked more like a migration pattern. Large carts, drawn by horses and people of many different cultures all gathered in the plaza. None of it concerned him, he only wanted to see if the store housing all of the tomes he’d wandered out to admire.
He’d finally made it in. It wasn’t so much a small store full of books, scrolls, marks and a various assortment of bags in which to carry them but more of a library with a small place to dine in the corner.
Now was no time to dine, he had books and scrolls to browse. The selection disappointed him. He found a few things that mildly interested him but, in the time he perused the shelves, he saw the titles of books, the authors with their names stamped on the spines. To him, the titles ranged from the flighty to the tainted, barely any of it truly suitable for his work which was grounded in the real and extending into the aether, through real processes and actual self-mastery, a thing he wanted to continually work on. Many of the books on The Craft, itself seemed to be aimed at edgy youngsters, armed with the intentions of scaring their parents. He did see a divination tool or two he could have used but continued on his way, with only what remained in the bag he’d brought along. He brought no spell components this day as they were only good for one thing, and they were risky. He had nothing to replenish his energies, no sustenance and nothing with him to drink, a reality that would become more apparent as he started his journey back home.
He decided on a different route back home, opting to take the carriage roads this time, he passed buildings that had been around for two hundred years or better. He passed a shops selling all manner of wares that he could have used for his various brews, other places that sold cards and all manner of entertainment. He passed them all on his way home. He stopped into one shop, and ordered a bite to eat and a little something to drink when he realized what time it was. His magic that had him dictating the contents of his scroll was running out…and it was his fault. He hadn’t had anything other than his brew and some water earlier. He grumbled as he realized he wouldn’t have the ability to make the rest of the way home with it being read to him. He was interested in the history of people creating entire worlds to which he’d been listening. He’d held the connection for a few hours, even he admitted that it wasn’t bad on his part to be able to do that but now, he’d remember to pack something along to keep himself up and allow him to hold the spell a bit longer.
He stopped long enough to consume what morsels and drink he’d purchased, opting for a cold tea from the ice house. The tea washing the meat chunks down was soothing and invigorating all at once, but he knew it would take time. He continued home and, upon arrival was greeted by his familiar who looked up at him as though the wizard owed him an explanation.
“Oh don’t look at me like that,” he said, “I did feed you before I left. I also administered your medicine, you bucket of fuzz.” The feline stood on his hind legs and then used his forepaws to swipe down together in an act of begging.
“Oh fine,” he said to the familiar in exasperation, giving him a little scratch between the ears to which the cat squinted his eyes, lifted himself into the scratch and then pitched forward back onto his forepaws.
“So,” the familiar said to him, “Find anything worth leaving me here all day for?”
“A few things,” the wizard told him, “Not much. I did travel ten miles on foot today. Perhaps you’ve made me a lunch?”
The familiar rolled his eyes and dismissed the middle-aged wizard with a swish of his tail.
“I can’t, old man,” he said to the wizard, “Perhaps you’ve forgotten. You seem to remind me every time you’re playing one of your dice games and won’t allow me to play, claiming that I have no ability to roll dice. I can knock them around, you know.”
“That is not the same!” the wizard said, placing his bag on the floor next to a chair and taking his cloak and hanging it before removing the other tunic, “Did you know that there was a bit of a quake today? You slept through it. Does nothing but the books on my table disturb you?”
“I wanted food!” the cat proclaimed, “and you were sleeping!”
“It was barely the witching hour,” the wizard replied, taking a seat after gathering some water to drink, “And what did you do all day whilst I was out?”
“Slept,” he replied to the wizard.
“That’s what I thought,” the wizard said, relaxing in his chair and drinking his water.
Great job. A mage out on his own, with a persnikity familiar.
It was a great way of describing his day.
Great story! It's almost like I know the main character.