Bernt hid the box in one of his sleeves, cirg around a small group of well-dressed teenagers as he made his way downhill toward the river. One of them, wearing an academy robe, poi him and said something to her friends. They s him as he passed, but he ighem. He wasn’t going to let the judgment of a bunch of rich half-trained fools intimidate him.

  A few mier, he turned off the main street and stepped into a familiar alleyway that led to a small, dingy courtyard. While it wasly , someone had retly picked up the garbage and swept the pce. At the far end stood a rickety two-story building. On the lintel above the door, someone had ily scrawled the words “Halfbridge Orphahough the paint was so faded now that he could barely make it out in the dim light. An old broom, the brushwood nearly worn down to the shaft, leaned against the frame.

  He opehe door and stepped ihout knog – they knew he was ing today. Jori was off doing her own thing in the sewers below, probably terrorizing the local rat popution or looking for shiny things. That was for the best. He wasn’t about to risk letting the kids see a demon.

  “I’m here!” he called out, taking in the familiar presence of the pce. The house smelled of soap and wood, and was always a little too dark.

  “Hello, Bernie. I’ve already got them ready for you in the main room.” a reedy voice said right behind him.

  He didn’t jump. The orphanage’s elderly matron, Farrin, had always been light on her feet.

  “Great! Did they do their homework?” He asked.

  Miss Farrin harrumphed. “Hmph. A few of them did, sure. With most of them, you’ll just have to hope for the best with what you drill into them.” She sighed. “Did you finally get your back pay?”

  Bernt smiled at the old woman.

  “Not yet. The casteln’s office is never open when I’m off work. The only time I collect my pay is during my lunch break – and only if the casteln’s secretary happens to not be taking her’s at the time.”

  “’t you get them to deposit it for you at the bank?” She asked. “It’s hardly worth doing the job if you’re not going to get paid for it, you know.”

  “I know, but it’s important.” Bernt sighed. “Even being able to do basic figures might be enough to keep a few of them in ho work. If just a few of them stick with it long enough to learn some geometry, they might eve appreo a proper crafter. Somebody has to do it.”

  “Sure, but why you?” Farrin pressed. “This portunity for you when you were a student, but now?”

  Bernt frowned. “They look down on us. They think we’re stupid or born criminals. That we’re less than they are. I’m not going to accept that.” Also, he did get paid whenever he mao catch the casteln’s secretary in her office. It only paid a handful of silver each month, but it was enough to nearly double what he could save each month. Every little bit ted.

  Farrin sighed.

  “Who, Bernt?” She asked, voice tinged with the exasperation of someone who had had this exact versation several times before. “Who actually thinks that? The magefiook you out of here and gave you the same education that every e in the kingdom gets. And look at you!” She gestured at him proudly. “You made it!”

  Bernt didn’t feel like he’d made it anywhere. Not yet.

  “I’m an Underkeeper – barely a mage at all, as far as they’re ed.” he said bitterly. She didn’t uand – couldn’t, really. As far as Farrin was ed, a mage was a mage. Who cared what their robes looked like if they could do magic. Bernt knew better, though.

  Farrin harrumphed at him. “Hmph. You’re still very young, Bernie. One of these days, yoing to have to learn to stop looking at yourself through the eyes of people who don’t matter.”

  Bernt rolled his eyes.

  “These people do matter! Why do you think this pce is so underfunded?”

  Farrin waved her hand at him dismissively. “Don’t argue with your elders, boy. Go teach the kids your lesson. You ’t expect them to sit in there just waiting for you forever.”

  –-------

  Bernt lived down in the lower city, in a former warehouse o the river docks that had been verted into tes. It was a bad part of town – even worse than the ohe orphanage was in, but that didn’t him too much. The gangs didn’t bother people who stayed out of their business, and muggers generally avoided anyone who wore mage’s robes, no matter how shabby they might have been. The only thing that mattered to him was that he could rent a room here for twelve silver a month.

  He even had a fairly nice view of the river’s rgest dock, built on the remains of a few a stone pilrs that rose from the waters, cutting through the river’s current. They were all that remained of the half of a bridge that the city of Halfbridge was named for. What happeo the other half, or who had built the inal whole bridge was lost to history. There was nothing but monsters and a few haunted ruins oher side of the river. Humans had never lived there at all, as far as Bernt knew.

  Unsealing the protective ward on the door to his room, Berered aled down on a fortable cushion before pulling out the box. He could guess what was in it, but he still held his breath as he opehe catch.

  A waed on soft velvet with a scrap of paper ed around it. He removed the paper and ran his fingers over the wood, taking it in.

  It was made rant reddish wood with a slight charred effect - lightning-struck cedar, most likely. The entire length was carved with runes and els desigo focus mana smoothly to improve casting time and mana efficy while casting. The design was elegant, deceptively simple and incredibly effit. As he examihe runes more closely, though, his hands began to tremble. This wasn’t just a general purpose wand. This was a on, desigo maximize the destructive potential of the spells cast through it. Specifically, fire spells. It was a military grade pyromancer’s wand, the type that a war mage would carry – or an adventurer.

  Bernt snatched the paper up from where it y on the floor. Sure enough, it was a note.

  Hi Bernt,

  I told Syrah, our healer, what happened. She kept a sample of the slime, and we mao match it to samples from old Julian’s shop. So, now he’s going to be footing the bill for that Teresian burn specialist! Long story short, you took some real pressure off of our budget.

  Anyway, I might have mentiohat you’re looking to get into the adventuring business, and we decided to i in your future a bit. We issued a quest to find the source of the slimes and tur in under your name for the reward that we posted for it. gratutions, you’re a shiny new rank 1 adventurer!

  You’re wele.

  -Therion

  He’d told him that he didn’t want his charity. That bastard.

  But… It was a quest reward – for something that he had actually done. Sure, the quest did at the time, and it wasn’t dangerous in the least. But… did that matter? He was a registered adveeically, anyway.

  This was a big step in the right dire.

  He eyed the wand critically. He’d have to strap a holster for it onto his arm so he could store it in his sleeve. There was no way he could leave something so valuable lying around in his room, and carrying it on his belt was just asking for trouble from every pickpocket in town. He’d keep using the old wand for work.

  Pushing mana through the wand, he cast a fire shield around himself, marveling at how quickly and easily the spell formed. It was a plex weave that required the caster to gee a double temperature barrier to tain intense heat. Failing to do so correctly could burarget –himself– or allow the heat to quickly dissipate into his surroundings, which would turn the spell into something closer to a poorly trolled fire nova.

  In practical terms, that usually trao a long cast time. Without using a focus, Bernt could cast a fire shield in about twenty seds. Once he got used to this wand, though, he could see himself getting one up in just three or four seds. That wasn’t necessarily fast enough to cast while some monster was trying to eat your face, but it was good enough to use actively in a party text.

  Excitement fluttered in his chest, but Bernt pushed it dowill had a long way to go. Eveively modest adventuring robes with basic defensive entments cost upwards of eighty gold - he might barely be able to scrape that together with what he’d mao save over the past four years, but that still didn’t cover ables, good traveling boots, a bag of holding, eneral supplies. He still had another year to go at least, more likely two.

  But it was a real start, finally.

  His daydreaming was interrupted by a soft scritg sound at his window. Moving quickly, he briefly ope to let Jori in and cast a ing spell on her as she cmbered over the sill so she wouldn’t stink up the pce. Chirping at him proudly, she hopped down and dropped a headless and slightly chewed-up rat on the ground at his feet. Gross.

  At least now he could make more imp treats. She would eat them raw, too, but he knew she preferred them dried ara spicy. She flitted over to the small cast iron stove and curled up o it, hissing at him insistently.

  Obligingly, he packed the stove with a bit of wood and lit it with a quick fire trip. Imps didn’t need a hot enviroo survive, but he’d found that Jori at least preferred it. Or maybe she just wanted him to get on with making that jerky.