"Apprentice! Get down here right now!"
"On my way, Uncle!"
Spicer Karavey knew he was in trouble. He was always in trouble. Ever since his parents left him with his uncle and aunt to learn the tailor's trade, his name was trouble. He hated sewing clothes and measuring people for fine outfits he would never afford. Worst of all were those half-ogre berserkers. Oh, how they stank! What he really wanted to be was a mage. To learn the magic of the realm, the secrets, to have adventures. But that was not his lot in life. His fate was to take needle and thread and..
"NOW!" He could tell his uncle was about to lose his patience again.
"Yes sir," he said quietly as he walked to the other room.
"Where is the other glove?" his uncle demanded.
"Ah, what other glove?" he said sheepishly.
"You KNOW which glove, the black one made from silk, the baroness'!"
"I don't know, Uncle," he said. It was a true enough answer. He had been practicing on it; it was his uncle who told him to practice his mending skills. He just probably shouldn't have been practicing on a baroness's expensive glove. He was carrying it around and dropped it running from some strange creature.
"You were daydreaming again! Weren't you? Bah! You are going to make a miserable tailor. Why did I ever agree..... Oh, never mind. That will be a dock of a month's gold allowance!"
Did his uncle always have to shout? Being from the elvish part of his family, he assumed they would be a bit quieter than his human father. He figured shouting must be a talent in every race.... Didn't listen to the rest of his uncle's ranting. He sat there and nodded his head, shed a tear to make it look good and daydreamed of casting spells.
"Spicer, get to work and get that silly dream of becoming a mage out of your mind! You're not bright enough! You failed even their simple entrance quest! Now go downstairs and help your aunt make those robes." He uncle stormed off, leaving him alone. He slowly sauntered down the stairs to the workroom. His aunt was nowhere to be seen, but a pile of witches' robes were sitting there on the table, ready for delivery to the.... Mages' Guild!
Spicer quickly decided to deliver them himself. It might be his only chance to actually see inside the wondrous guild. He speedily gathered up the robes and ran through town to the entrance of the Mages' Guild.
"You cannot enter, son. Just drop the robes here and the guildmaster or one of her lieutenants will come get them." The Arch Magi at the entrance then waved him away.
"I cannot leave these robes here. I have explicit orders to hand them personally to the guildmaster!" Spicer wasn't one for not telling the truth, but what was he supposed to do? He wanted so badly to be a mage, a Sorcerer.
Spicer had spent years learning a few spells and learning them well. His uncle was right, though. He wasn't much of a bright mind. He tried to learn Naturalism spells and magic, but his mind couldn't handle it all. So he decided to learn a few Sorcery spells as best he could. Even at that, he wasn't too good at the actual casting of them. He had every word and movement memorized perfectly. Each spell down pat. But when he tried to cast them, the place always filled up with daisies or tadpoles. He just didn't have the ability to focus. He was sure he would do better if only he could enter the Mages' Guild.
"Sorry, unless you have a scroll of knowledge, you cannot enter here," The magi barked.
Just then a shadowy figure whispered something in Spicer's ear. "I've got a scroll for you. It'll only be 5000 pieces of gold. Just go to the east and I'll sell it to ya."
Spicer was ecstatic. He knew he couldn't find it on his own. He went east away from the entrance and a strange-looking gnome came out of the shadows. He chuckled, "Here you go, silly elf," and handed him the scroll.
"That'll be 5000 gold," he demanded.
"How do I know that this is really it?" Spicer was a little concerned; this gnome thief chuckled a lot, but didn't seem too friendly or trustworthy.
"You don't, silly! But what do you have to lose?" he chuckled again.
Spicer paid him the last and only gold he ever had, gold he had saved up for his training. He took the scroll and the gnome withdrew to the shadows.
Spicer took the pile of robes and a scroll back to the Mages' Guild entrance and offered the scroll. The magi guard gave him a staff and taught him a few lessons. "Welcome to the guild, son!" he barked.
He was in! He was a mage! If only his uncle could see him now! Spicer was so excited. He entered the guild and was in awe. Such an incredible building, and the people walking through were so awe-inspiring.
It took him about half a day, but finally he had the courage to ask someone the question most on his mind. He stopped a small sprite that was flittering through.
"Excuse me, but where can I leave these robes? I am supposed to deliver them."
"I'm not sure," the sprite answered, "but welcome to the guild! You are new here, aren't you?"
"How can you tell?"
"Well, you've been standing there for all day with that staff," the sprite giggled.
Spicer pouted a bit. "I know. I'm not sure what to do with it."
"Turn it." The sprite smiled and waved goodbye, saying she had something to attend to urgently, but offered help if necessary later.
Spicer turned the staff and before he knew it he was whisked away to another part of the guild. Looking around the new area, he was excited and overwhelmed by all the new skills and spells he was able to learn there.
Yet, alas, Spicer wasn't too bright and it was taking him months to learn simple tasks. Nearly daily, his uncle and aunt showed up at the Mages' Guild, demanding he return. He had to find some place within the guild, some reason to stay, or he would have to return to a life of sewing robes and measuring smelly half-ogre Berserkers.
He went to the guildmaster with his plight.
"Maam, I am none too bright. I know that now. Nor can I cast well. But I truly wish to stay in the guild. Is there a place for me here?" he pleaded.
She looked at him sympathetically. "There is a place for everyone who wishes to be a mage, dear. There is no need to leave, nor will we kick you out just because you are slow of learning."
"I know, but... but I want to give somewhere that I am most useful. My tithe is very low, and I don't help anyone with my magic or Sorcery." Spicer was feeling quite down and useless.
"Hmm," the guildmaster pondered. "I have an idea. I've heard you know some spells well, though your focus does not seem good enough to cast them."
Spicer nodded, slightly hopeful.
"But you know them by heart and you have a good heart"
Spicer nodded, a bit more hopeful.
"You also know how to make robes, do you not? You were once a tailor's apprentice?"
Spicer nodded with a slightly disappointed look.
"Then I have a position for you. We have need of someone to tutor our young Sorcerers in the basics of most of the spells you know so well. Perhaps you can be our guild tutor for the basic sorcerer spells. And the tailors we contract with now are a bit expensive. Last time they charged 5000 gold for 10 robes! We can't afford that."
Spicer blushed, feeling slightly guilty at his overcharge, but he did have to recoup the gold he paid for the scroll.
"So, here's the deal for you, dear. You can tutor our young mages, if you promise also to make and distribute robes for our mages. You can charge a bit if you wish, to make gold. Just don't charge 500 gold for each. Our young mages are not that rich."
Spicer wasn't too excited about the robe-making part of the deal, but teaching and tutoring other mages sounded like a wonderful idea. It would be his dream, and less dangerous than fighting off trolls.
He was given a room to set up in and began tutoring. He loved it! They were all so grateful and went running off excitedly to try out their new spells. He loved teaching them and felt he was in heaven. Just one thing. He really hated making robes. Finally he went to his uncle and explained to him that he had become a mage and would never come back to be a tailor.
"I'm a tutor, Uncle!"
"I'll be... well, congrats I guess. Your father is going to have to pay for the loss of help though." His uncle shrugged his shoulders.
"No, I've got an idea. Since I am 'in' with the guild higher ups, why don't I make you the exclusive supplier of the basic mages' robes. That should make up for any loss you get from my leaving," Spicer proposed just a little slyly.
"How much will the mages pay per robe?" his uncle asked, after pondering it for a minute.
"How about 24 gold per robe?" Spicer said, with visions of wealth in his head.
"You know it costs 25 to make them! Fifty and no less!" his uncle said, turning just a bit red.
"Okay, Uncle, 40 and it's a deal."
His uncle nodded his head and agreed. "But one thing, nephew of mine, you had best find that glove! The baroness wants it back and wants it soon. If it isn't returned to her, I'll send her to you!"
"Okay, Uncle. I promise. I'll go look for it myself!"
With that Spicer Karavey ran back to the guild happy, satisfied and day dreaming of all the riches he would have from tutoring and selling robes.
Alley back to the library foyer.
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