Random stories

I ignored his derisive tone as he asked the question, choosing instead, to look around the hall. He was a royal, alright. The portraits exaggerating his appearance lined the high walls, adorning him in extravagant garments.

And the man himself was wearing such exquisitely, needlessly elaborate clothes.

Probably magicked on to his person by his famous mages. Or potentially by him himself.

He looked at me, expecting a reply.

"Your curiosity is perverse, old man." I said, instead.

I saw the sliver of anger in his eyes, but he kept it in check.

"Oh, come now. Don't be like that. I'm giving you a chance. Enter into my service and I can let you reign free, practicing and perfecting your magic in a company of peers."

I started slowly walking around the chamber, looking at the eyestays that decorated the place, pretending to think about his offer as I feigned interest in his artefacts.

And after a few long moments I could feel him staring daggers at me. I smiled inwardly.

"Tempting. But I have to decline. This 'company of peers' you speak of would not be much company for someone like me."

"Oh, you don't know what you're saying, young one. These mages... You don't have any idea what they've went through to be where they are now. The pain. The suffering. You have no idea." The noble's smile was turning slightly shrewd.

"Oh, surely. I am not denying their power when I said they won't be company. I am denying their pain. Their suffering. The trauma inflicted on them by the world that resulted in them now. That's what I'm denying. I would not be in the company of peers at all with them. Because I do not share their experiences, you see?"

"What? What are you talking about?" The noble asked plainly.

"My magic didn't stem from any trauma. My magic was not something that unlocked through the sort of torture you employ on your students." I said, staring into his eyes.

The noble's expression changed. His superficial mask of an aloof, happy disposition dissolved into a cold, hard-eyed one. The act was dropped. The dancing around had ceased.

"Choose your next words carefully, child." The noble said, and I felt a shiver down my spine.

I should have expected it. I should have expected the true brutality and evil of this man, but it still frightened me as his whole demeanor changed with his face.

"My power isn't from pain is what I'm saying. The Arte Magicke, contrary to what you're teaching, isn't derived from the extreme physical or mental trauma that you have misled so many to believe."

The noble hesitated, and asked, "How did you learn your magic, then?"

I smiled.

"See, magic is everywhere. Anyone is capable of it. Well, maybe not anyone."

I paused again, forcing the noble to wait for my next few words.

"Well, that's neither here nor there. All I wanted to say was I am not interested." I concluded, turning around to walk away.

But I felt it. The smell of sorcery. Perfect.

I turned just as the noble let loose a spell towards me. I brought up my hand, catching the spell and negating it's effects, much to the dismay of its caster.

"What sort of unimaginable pain have *you* gone through to unlock your arcane talent?" I asked, smiling. I knew the answer. And as his eyes got wide I knew that he knew that I knew.

He let loose another spell, and another. Chain-casting destructive magic at me. All of which I caught with my bare hand as I slowly started walking towards him.

"You haven't gone through that pain, have you? What you subject your students to? Your body isn't mired like your students', is it? My theory is that you've molested their minds. Made them susceptible to believe in your practices despite how counterintuitive they were. They don't even understand, do they? How could they? You've made sure they can't." I said.

Still, he frantically sent spell after spell.

Still, I caught them, tempted to deflect them back at him, but knowing I could not. Not yet. I had to let him know. I had uncovered it. The vast conspiracy.

"The trauma you've inflicted has held back whole generations of mages. The pain you've caused on them only weakened them. Loosened their connection to the arcane. Made their powers weaker than they should be. Vastly weaker. All so you can still be relevant, still reign supreme over them. All so you can be the only exalted mage among all you've limited over the years. For what? What use is the stagnant power you possess?"

I was standing in front of him now. His hand, shaking with effort, tried to let loose another spell. But I caught his hand before he could. This close, I could see him for what he was. The old, evil, manipulative noble he was.

"You're the most selfish fucker I've ever had the displeasure to meet or know of. I can only hope after you're gone, the Arte Magicke can finally be revitalised into what it could be. Not held back by the trauma you've inflicted on the craft and users alike. You've set us back decades, old man. Do you know that? Do you know what your selfishness has cost us?" I asked, the rage building up within me as I saw the fear in his eyes.

His other hand came up, slinging a spell at me, hoping the close range of it was enough to get to me. But I caught it all the same. And this time, I deflected it back at him.

It struck his chest, and with a pathetic whimper, the old man fell.

I stared at his body for a few moments. The arch mage noble was dead. And with him, the vile practices he enacted upon those who wished to pick up the Arte Magicke.

Good riddance.

I turned and left, knowing the world was finally going to change for the better.

---

Submitted by rookwoodo on Tue, Apr 26, 2022 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

Magicians are quite rare. They are not born; they're made. It is through unimaginable pain that their powers manifest. Their ability is linked to their own personal trauma. So tell me child, what can YOU do?