Mentor?

DING

The soft tinkle of a bell resounded through a small shop, alerting the wizened old man at the counter of someone's presence. He called out a noncommittal greeting in response, not looking up from the mortar in which he pounded a few leaves into mush. The visitor, light on their feet walked up to one of the low rack of potions that lined the side walls of the cozy-looking shop. They stared at the diagrams of spell models on the walls, right above the rack, walking slowly as they assessed them. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic soft pounding of the leaves in the mortar and a light whistle of a concoction on a small stove that filled the room with a herby scent.

"Did you draw these—?" The person made to say when the tinkle of the bell cut them off as another person entered, also light footed.

The attention of the old man shifted as he noted the presence. He looked up from the mortar with slight surprise in his reptile-like eyes as a small smile broke on his face.

"You're done so quickly?! It's only been two days!" He said with his gaze locked solely on the box the figure carried, watching it sway with their steps. It was fairly large, and looked heavy, making the man's smile even wider. It seemed the figure had completed the job successfully, and in record time.

Zephyr dropped the box on the table with a thud, throwing a passing glance the way of the figure standing some distance away, staring at him, before locking his gaze on the old man who was nearly about to start clapping in glee.

"Ha! You got it didn't you?! You did right?!" He repeated like a kid as Zephyr slowly lifted the lid of the box.

A large, pale white heart was nestled carefully inside the box, with traces of purple looking arteries running underneath the surface. It still had a blue tinge of beast blood to it, showing that it was freshly killed.

The man's breath caught in his throat as he let out a squeaky intake of breath, amazed at the quality of the heart. "You— You— This is still freshly killed!!" He exclaimed with spittle flying out of his mouth, totally forgetting about the plant he was pounding earlier.

"Where is my scalpel— If it's of this quality, then I can use it to— No! that would be a waste— maybe—" He muttered random thoughts under his breath as they crossed his mind.

As Zephyr watched the old man scuttling about in search of his tools, a melancholic feeling washed over him. The man reminded him of Old Bjorn with the way he was so clearly passionate about his craft.

He had thought about Bjorn every now and then, wondering how the old dwarf was doing and if he was going to be able to see him again in this life. While they weren't blood-related, Bjorn was the only family he had...

Zephyr shook the feeling off, focusing on the present. Now was the best time to strike!

"My payment." He said in gruff voice.

"Huh? Oh! Yes. Yes. Your payment— You've outdone yourself sir... And for that you're getting a generous tip." The man said excitedly, still focused on carefully hefting the heart out of the box.

"No. No coin... Spell models. Real spell models. Not these flawed ones." He nodded towards the other diagrams on the wall. Aside from the fire spell model the old man had given him— which had been replaced by another replica up on the wall, the others were flawed... purposefully. Zephyr had made it a point to scan the diagrams each time he came here, and now, he had a very clear mental image of all the diagrams that lined the walls. He'd analyzed them over and over, and at first, he'd thought they were defective, but as he studied more and more, he noticed that the areas of discrepancy were always different. Parts of a spell model that Zephyr recognized to be correct would be flawed on another, like the creator had totally forgotten what they'd drawn in a previous diagram. Aside from the illogical changes in logic gates he recognized, some patterns he couldn't discern would also be similar in some, only to be wildly different in others.

It didn't make sense. Therefore Zephyr concluded it was intentional. Like some kind of test. A challenge to see who'd notice. And from the man's reaction to Zephyr's statement just now, it was clear he was right.

The old man's gaze narrowed as he reassessed Zephyr's hooded figure. "Real spell models? What are you talking about? These are as real as it gets." He continued his dissection of the beast heart, letting the blue blood drain into a bowl.

Zephyr grunted. "They're all flawed. Purposefully. The NOT Ga— The negating pattern is wrong on some, while correct on others. These other lines also vary wildly..." He said gruffly.

By then, the old man had paused in motion, staring intently at Zephyr. "And how did you figure that out?"

This was probing. What Zephyr didn't want.

He kept mute, realizing he was breaking character. Despite the old man's earlier excitement, he seemed to be level headed in his assessment.

The man nodded his head at Zephyr's silence before reaching below the counter, bringing out a stack of papers. On each, various spell models were drawn.

Zephyr's breath hitched.

With a generous look, the man stated, "Take as many as you want. I always try to nurture curious minds... And yours is—"

Zephyr snatched the entire stack.

"Wait! Wait! Hold on!" The old man slammed his hand on the stack Zephyr was about to pull away.

"You said to take as much as I want... I want everything."

"Y—Yes. But don't you think you're going too far. Start out with a little at a time." The old man stuttered, afraid of losing all his prized diagrams.

"No need to worry. I can handle it." Zephyr said, pulling with more force as the man refused to let go.

Suddenly a snort cut their exchange short. "It's not like they work anyways." A female voice was heard from the side.

The both of them turned their heads to look at the new speaker— a young woman— the one who had walked in before Zephyr.

She walked up to both of them, staring at the diagram at the top of the stack. "Uh huh. I was right. It won't work anyway. You're trying to do something different... But in a foolish way." She stated in a plain tone.

The old man's nose flared, pissed off by the snarky remark at his work. "And who are you to make such assessment young lady?!"

Zephyr also dropped his hand, watching the exchange. He looked the young woman up and down. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. With chestnut colored hair tied up in a bun atop her head, hazel colored eyes with vertical pupils, and scales that ran in thin strips from her neck, up the sides of her face and around her eyes. Coupled with her well proportioned face, her appearance was striking.

"You don't need to know who I am." She waved a hand, turning to Zephyr. "I'll suggest you collect your payment in cash. If you want to become a mage, go to a proper school and stop wasting your time with wannabes who think they can create something better than methods tried, tested and refined over generations of magic scholars." She ended her scathing remark, stunning the old man into silence.

Zephyr stared at her from under his hood, then turned robotically and carried the stack of papers. "I'm taking everything." He nodded, adding a small trace of liveliness to the old man's now dampened spirit.

He walked out the door with the familiar tinkle of the bell sounding behind him.

He considered leaving town straight away, but decided against it. He was here already. It was unplanned, but it would be better to just collect more supplies with the opportunity.

He made for the familiar tavern where Rita worked.

All of a sudden, he turned into an alley abruptly, just as a moving cart blocked him from view for a moment.

Not long after, a figure walked past the alleyway casually, then after a short while, came back and walked right in, looking around in search of someone. Suddenly, the figure snapped back, spraying some dust into the air looking to cast a spell, but their assailant was upon them quicker than they thought.

Zephyr pressed the figure up against the wall with an arm, holding a small knife against their throat.

"Why are you following me?" He growled

"He He. You're skilled. Who are you?" She bent her head down trying to peek under hooded cloak Zephyr wore despite the knife pressed against her neck.

"Stay!" He pushed her back against the wall, pressing the knife even closer.

She had a smile playing on her lips as she watched him. "You're a young one. I can tell."

"How old? Seventeen? Eighteen?" She tilted her head playfully.

"You move one more time—" Zephyr started to threaten, but she cut him off.

"You wanna learn about magic?" She asked.

"..." Zephyr hesitated, waiting to hear what else she'd say.

"I can teach you." She smiled. "Magic. I'm good at it. And I've taken an interest in you... so I'll teach you."