"Fast, cheap, or good. You only get two." That's what they say.

Thing is, most wizards don't do fast or cheap. They spend days, even weeks, designing a spell, and they always demand the best ingredients for it. You give them a problem, they take forever to tell you to go halfway round the world for the pieces of a solution.

And yeah, it's a good solution, but by the time you have it, you have new problems. Old one may even have solved itself. It's why only the most desperate folks go to the Guild for help.

Meanwhile, I'm out here. I give you a solution before you leave my shop, and it's all done with stuff from the corner store. And here's the kicker: it may not be the perfect answer the Guildies would give, they may not say it's good, but it's good enough.

Example time, this minor lord drops by, has a banquet coming up, king is supposed to drop in. Only his kitchen has a rat problem suddenly. The early snow likely drove them inside.

I have him get some ham, flower petals (I recommended rose, but let him know any would do. He went with carnations), and a bit of brick dust. I had plenty of fairy bits (I keep traps for common ones, like grigs and pixies, year round. Most spells, you don't need a specific kind) that I added. Done before the hour was up. He laid it out, it drew the rats in, and POOF they turn into teaspoons for the next three days. Staff would pick them up and they got shipped away before they turned back.

Sure, it's not the solution he'd expected, but it got the job done, and in time for the banquet. He wasn't seen spending tons of time with a wizards (which is rightly seen as suspicious behavior), and he didn't have to drop a frigging mint to get rid of some rats with magic.

And off the record, sometimes, you get a little bonus with my spells. Don't tell anyone, but there's a rumor he gifted out some "commemorative teaspoons" to other nobles.

So if you need it to be perfect, money is no object, and time is irrelevant, you can go to the Guild. For anything you have to face in your real life, talk to me.

"Is that...dirt?" the Castellan asked, as he nervously watched the grubby old conjurer flinging dust from a sack about the Duke's wine cellar with abandon.

The old man cackled. "Naw! Powdered stone, this is. I get it cheap from smithies and the like -- comes off the grindstones, you see. There's some metal filings mixed in, of course, but that don't do no harm. Metal's just fancy stone, when you think about it."

"I see." the Castellan said, uncertainly, as he continued watching the hedge mage's curious display. His lordship had insisted the cellar be made free of vermin, after his son the Ducal heir was badly frightened by a rat scuttling across his legs he was reclined on a pile of old sacks in a far corner of the cellar, "perusing" some of the fine vintages that had been laid up beneath the Ducal keep. Unfortunately, his grace had also been very firm about reducing household expenditures, leaving the Castellan with little choice but to consider less conventional -- and less costly -- means to remediate the cellar's rat problem.

After several minutes watching Bartholomew the Budget Mage work his alleged magic, however, he was beginning to think he might have been better off paying for a proper wizard out of his own pocket. The man may have come highly recommended from artisans and workmen about the town, but common folk were rather easily impressed, after all.

After a few more generous handfuls of dust had been flung about, Bartholomew stepped back.

"You'll want to back up a fair bit, squire," the mage advised, making a shoo-ing motion in the Castellan's direction. He frowned, but did as the conjurer bade him, retreating to the bottom of the stairs that led into the cellar, where Bartholomew soon joined him.

The mage rolled up his grimy sleeves, and made a series of arcane gestures as he
muttered an incantation. An almost imperceptible draft stirred the gray dust strewn about the stone floor, but the spell had no other visible effect.

"Well?" the Castellan prompted.

"Done and dusted, mate," the mage responded confidently, clapping the stone dust from his hands with an air of finality.

"But nothing happened!" the Castellan protested.

Bartholomew snorted. "The hell you say!"

The mage shuffled over to a corner, bending down and mumbling to himself as he nosed around some empty barrels that had collected a layer of dust even before his arrival. The Castellan reminded himself to have the cellar thoroughly cleaned. That would probably do more lasting good than this old fool's "magic," in any case.

After a few more moments, however, the mage straightened with a triumphant "Ha!"

He turned to the Castellan who momentarily recoiled as he saw the huge rat the man held up like a trophy.

Bartholomew laughed. "Don't worry squire, this'n won't be bothering you no more." He tapped the stiff, motionless rat against the wall, making an unexpectedly sharp clattering sound.

"Wha...it's turned to stone!" the Castellan exclaimed, his horror fading away to wonder.

The old mage grinned. "Yep! You can poke about the place and pick 'em up at your leisure, they're not going anywhere. Far better than poison, if you ask me, since stone don't rot and start to smell after a day or two."

"Brilliant, sir!" the Castellan cried. "I must say, I fear I have misjudged you, master wizard -- you work wonders at a bargain price!"

Bartholomew waved away the praise. "Naw, I ain't no wizard, squire! I reckon I'm good at what I do, true enough, but I only know the one spell, after all."

The Castellan frowned. "Only one? But, I was told that it was you who cured the miller's boy."

The mage stroked his chin, thoughtfully. "Who, Tom? Oh, yeah, I remember him. Good lad. Glad I could help."

"But I heard the boy was dying of consumption!" the Castellan exclaimed. "Surely you didn't just turn him into stone and call that a cure?"

Bartholomew laughed again. "Naw, 'course not!" He shook his head ruefully, "What people forget, squire, is that magic is based on words, and words can mean more than one thing. I didn't turn him into stone, I turned his consumption into stone. A kidney stone, to be precise. Mind you, the poor lad wasn't happy for a few weeks after, but eventually he passed the stone and recovered, which is better than what would have happened otherwise."

"Amazing....and Rolfe the guardsman told me you alleviated his brother's madness. Did you turn that into a kidney stone, as well?" the Castellan inquired, curiously.

The mage shook his head. "That was a disease of the mind, I couldn't turn it into a disease of the body. I had to stretch some definitions there, to be honest: he was mad before, but now he's just stoned, instead. 'Fraid he's still not going to be going back to work any time soon, but he's also not likely to hurt himself or no one else. And you should hear 'im play that lute of his, now!"

The Castellan laughed. "Extraordinary! You know, even with that limitation, I'm surprised you're not someone's court wizard -- I mean to say, what lord wouldn't want a wizard in his employ who can turn anything into stone? The military applications alone!"

Bartholomew tilted his hand from side-to-side noncommittally. "It's both more and less useful than you'd think, squire. Turning things like consumption and madness into stone is easy. The bits of a man's brains that make him go mad are tiny, and the little buggers -- 'animalcules' the scholars call 'em -- what cause consumption are even tinier still. I don't have the power to turn nothing big into stone. That requires more knowledge than what I've got, and more expensive materials than just stone dust, besides."

"But what about the rats?" the Castellan asked, gesturing around the cellar.

"Well, this cellar's ancient, squire. The keep above has been rebuilt a few times, but this cellar has been here since the Duke's first ancestor. A well-defined space that's been around for ages? Places like that concentrate and amplify magic. I reckon that's why you find so many wizards in old ruins, and so few in brand-new houses." Bartholomew explained. "But even here, I couldn't control the magic very well. That's why I made sure to get you to stand back -- any living thing in the cellar would have been turned to stone, not just rats."

"Ah, I see..." the Castellan said, nodding slowly. Then he froze. "Oh Divine..."

Bartholomew blinked. "Squire?"

The Castellan ignored him. He sprinted down the rows of wine racks to the far end of the old cellar, then rounded the three huge barrels of common wine at the end. His eyes widened in horror. There, behind the massive wine barrels on a pile of old sacks, lay the Duke's son, along with several empty wine bottles, a half-full bottle still tucked into the crook of one arm...an arm that, like the rest of the Ducal heir's body, was now made of dark gray granite.

As the Castellan stared in mute disbelief, Bartholomew plodded up beside him. When he saw the Duke's son, he let out a long low whistle.

"Huh. Well, this one's gonna be tricky..." the budget mage muttered.

"I shall bind the stars and bend the whims of a galaxy to soothe thy terrible pain," said the golden mage.

"I shall will the gods to erase this stupendous sickness out of your body," said the silver mage.

"I shall mix some ginger, vinegar and bicarbonate of soda and he shall shite this out of his arse by noon," said the ruffled mage, who had been woken up from his afternoon nap for this.

There was a long, slightly disgusted silence following these admittedly coarse words.

"How barbaric," said the golden mage.

"He's got a stomachache!" shouted the most-definitely angry mage, pointing at the ailing noble, "he's been downing cauliflowers for two days and needs a good fart, this all."

The silver mage scoffed. Not the usual scoff done by the bored person who finds no better way to express having heard words by blowing some air out of the nose and making a face. No. This was more of a show-all-your-disdain-towards-the-lower-classes-in-the-span-of-an-instant scoff. Unfortunately for the silver mage, the mage who was done giving a crap had gotten the message.

"Oi! Cunt!" he shouted, rolling up the sleeves of his nightgown, revealing some very non-scholarly forearms, "why don't you come here and make that face right before mine?" By the time he was done asking the question, the silver mage had already dived under a low table.

"It was a really bountiful cauliflower harvest this year," said the noble who hadn't been asked, "I had to celebrate by eating lots of cauliflowers."

"I can still bend the stars and galaxies if needed," said the golden mage to nobody in particular.

"Listen mate," said the aggravated mage to the noble while starting to throw ingredients into a cauldron and lighting a fire in the middle of the chamber, "I cook this, you drink it, you fart. Pain's gone. But open the window, because it's about to smell."

Three pair of eyes looked at the cauldron and fire with some confusion. Normally, a mage would make them appear out of thin air. This mage didn't. He had carried ingredients, cauldron and firewood with him.

Which was all the more impressive considering he had been woken up minutes ago without being told what the problem was.

"It was a really, big, bountiful cauliflower harvest," said the noble to break the silence, not realizing silence would have been preferable to hearing his voice, "we even had lots of cauliflower thefts and there's still enough for everyone."

The silver mages, from the flimsy cover of the low table, contorted to point at the cauldron in confusion.

"Wot u lukin at, mate? When was the last time you had to lift a curse or kill a dragon? 99% of the time it's a cow suffering from gas, or a noble suffering from gas, or a noble who wants a new perfume (which can also be considered gas depending on how you look at it). You think they'd write books about dragons and curses if it was common? Nah mate, it's because it's so rare that it's interesting. But this!" The angry mage planted his index in the noble's belly, which left out a noise warning about an incoming bad smell, "that's reality for most folks around here."

"I really wanted to bend the stars and galaxies."

"Bend them somewhere el... what's that noise?"

Indeed. Beyond the fascinating discourse about a variety of gazes, the boiling kettle and the bickering mages, a low rumble rose. Mighty, powerful. Roaring.

"A dragon!" shouted the silver and golden mages.

"U wot mate?" asked the not that well behaved mage.

Gold turned to a comet and sprang out the window, silver levitated - with the low-table on his back and followed gold. They were gone in a whisk to deal with the legendary, once-in-a-millenium threat, while the exhausted with this nonsense mage stayed to make a rich person fart.

To this mage's credit, it worked wonders, and the sweet scent of digested cauliflowers filled the room with the praise of a very happy noble as the trumpet of judgement times started to roll outside and the stars were about to fall on Earth like angry comets.

The gold mage appeared in a whirlwind of golden dust.

"Believe it or not, and I know I don't," he told his esteemed if hard to work with colleague, "but I need your help."

"How?"

"I translated the dragon's tongue with the power of stars and galaxies. Didn't think I'd get to use it today."

"And?"

"He's got a stomachache."

"Oh."

A whirlwind of silver dust, and in came the other mage.

"I can bend the will of the gods so they lend us a bigger cauldron. And lots of bicarbonate too, you know, just in case," said the silver mage.

The room got dark. Through the window, the large, iridescent eye of the dragon obscured their world and gazed through them.

"Aye. We gonna need a really big cauldron for this one," said the surprised mage.

"So that's the one who stole all the cauliflower!" the noble felt the need to add.

All three mages turned to face the noble.

"Man, shut the fuck up," they said in unison.

"THAT SHOULDN'T WORK!"

"Well it did, you saw for yourself."

"Gnnnnn. I mean you just killed a dragon ... using garden supplies! And what the hell was that incantation?"

"Look. We've been friends despite a lot of ... stuff. Can I trust you to keep a secret?"

"... fine?"

"Remember last April Fools when you sent me to that mundane world for a month?"

"Look. I've already apologised for that. I didn't think it would be that hard to bring you back. I even handed myself over to the College's tender mercies once I realised I wasn't going to get you back by myself."

"Not trying to guilt you man. That month was the best thing that ever happened to my magical career. I worked out how to visit any time I want and I've been spending the entire year learning SCIENCE!"

"Oh that trollop again? The scientific method blah blah blah, and that alg... algae.."

"Algebra."

"Mathematics with letters. You expect me to believe that allows you to kill a dragon?"

"Well that and these books specifically."

"...Thermodynamics for Dummies? History of ... Guns? My Little Chemistry Set? Metallurgy for Beginners? I'm not getting it. And you still didn't tell me the incantation you used."

"Focault's Geometric Binding."

"... That's a First Year Spell, isn't it? What did it do again?"

"Makes a tube of magical force."

"... Nope. Still not getting it."

"I've just invented the Spell of Gun."

She had seen mages before when she went to sell her embroidery in the city centre. They would put on grand displays of magical wonder. She had seen them appear in a puff of colourful smoke, pull crystals out of thin air and turn them into soft, gentle rain, and bestow good fortune and prosperity on the discerning audience while the masses watched from afar.

The issue is that those mages stayed in the nice parts of town, in the luxurious highrise apartments paid for by their wealthy clients. Displays such as those would cost more than her entire hab-block, took entire squadrons of servants weeks of meticulous preparations and were reserved only for the rich and powerful who could supply the mages with crystallized mana and freshly ground stardust. The less fortunate folks, well, they were on their own.

But there are some issues that can't be fixed with hard work and grit. There are issues that need magic. If a tulpa - a thought form made manifest - starts terrorizing a district, magic is the only answer. The fair and noble mages wouldn't dream of coming down to the dirty parts of town. The only option left was the man who just walked through her front door.

The best word to describe him would be 'dishevelled'. He had a 5 o'clock shadow, a long, crumpled up trenchcoat and threw away his cigarette just seconds before walking in. Proper mages were never seen smoking anything except the finest of cigars, not budget-brand coffin nails. Still, he barged in with the swagger she wasn't entirely sure he could afford.

"Where is she?" he asked quickly, not even bothering with proper etiquette. The woman, her eyes red from fatigue and tears, clutching a handkerchief, pointed towards a nearby room. The man quickly paced in, finding a girl, no more than 10 years, laying in bed, gripped by a terrible fever. He touched her forehead to measure her temperature and opened one of her eyes, inspecting it.

"Is... is she going to live?" the woman asked with a shaky voice. The man turned and gave her a sly grin.

"Dontcha worry love, I got you covered. Now, get us a toothbrush and some baking soda, would ya?"

The woman wasted no time and rushed to gather the required materials. When she came back, she found the man removed his trenchcoat and started rolling up his sleeves.

"Grand," he said and took the toothbrush, dipping it in the baking soda until it was completely covered in the white powder. He forced the girl's mouth opened and ran the toothbrush on her teeth. Despite the terrible taste, the girl was far too weak to protest. The man removed the toothbrush and laid it on the ground, surrounding it by the rest of the soda.

"Now," he said resolutely, "you got any beer? Moonshine? Any alcohol? Stronger the better."

The woman once again rushed to grab the necessary ingredient.

"This... this is a bottle of plum brandy one of our neighbours makes. It's cheap, but will it do?"

The man grabbed it and sniffed the contents, his nose hairs almost burning as he did. Whatever it was, it was strong.

"Aye, that'll do," he said and started downing the entire thing. The woman's heart sank - this man was nothing but a drunk with a flair for theatrics. He downed almost half of the entire bottle before he finally set it aside.

"Nnoow... blimey, whatss... in diss shite? Kno- knockd me... on my arse..." he said, his speech already slurred from the hard alcohol. He started uttering some words in a hushed tone, too quiet for the woman to hear, before pulling a lighter from his pocket and setting the toothbrush on fire. It flared with a blue flame far greater than anyone would expect. He kept holding it and uttering his words until almost all of it burned away, the putrid smell of singed plastic filling the words.

He suddenly yelled out several odd words the woman did not recognize. The toothbrush burst into one last blaze before it went out completely and the fire dissipated.

The man sat back down on the ground, breathing heavily. The woman watched on quietly until her attention was grabbed by her daughter coughing up the baking soda, now turned black, and opened her eyes.

"Mum?" she said slowly; the first time she spoke in over a week. The woman rushed to her bedside and inspected her eyes, her forehead, and her mouth. The fever was gone entirely, her eyes no longer bloodshot, the only thing that seemed to bother her was the gross taste of baking soda in her mouth. The woman hugged her tightly before turning back to the mage, still sat on the ground, clutching his head.

"Th- thank you!" she said. "Are- are you well?"

"Aye, dontcha worry love," he said with a pained expression before taking another, small swig of the brandy. Despite this, his speech was no longer slurred, his movements precise - unlike what he looked like when he downed half the bottle. "This kinda shite sobers you up proper, so if you're not actually drunk, well..."

"Then what?" the woman inquired.

"You'll get an aneurysm," he chuckled.

"Is... the monster gone?" she continued in a shaky voice.

"Naw," he said and stood up, grabbing his trenchcoat. "Just broke the bastard's grip on the lass," he said and gave the girl a quick pat on the head. "The bloody thing is still around, lurking, pissed that I just took away its meal," he said and put a cigarette in his mouth. Noticing the woman's concerned expression, his eyes went to the girl again and he slowly took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it behind his ear.

"Need to talk to the block's elder to get the bugger sorted out. Can you take me to him?"

"Of course, but... can it wait for just a few moments? I- I need to tend to Isabella, make sure she is well."

The man offered a smile. "Sure thing love. I'll be outside. Dying for a smoke anyway."

And with those words, the dishevelled, scruffy mage left, leaving behind only a faint smell of cigarettes and plum brandy.

"There! All set and done! Aetherium luminata!"

The chanting voice of Phyldiane filled the dark, cobblestone-lined room with trembling echoes, as her cooking pot over the brightly-blue sparkling flames glows with its embers. It was a success! And the slightly charred pot was filled with a cyan liquid, whose turbulent, oil-like essence swirl amidst the heat.

"I did it! Ha! A lightning buff potion!"

She danced quite a bit upon her success. She was so proud of her work. And what's more, none of her fellow classmates at the Incantorium Academica ever knew that she only spent a meager 5 white pearls on her ingredients.

"Take that, Mistulia! Once I show this to them tomorrow, that shoddy witch can shut the hell up on me!", she uttered in a gruntled tone as she slowly brews the cooked potion onto her glass bottle. In her mind, she insistently remembers what happened earlier at the Incantorium with the confrontation she has with her after class.

"You crazy! That's impossible, flea den.", Mistulia insisted, looking straight at Phlydiane's face. "Either you have to pay for a diamond crystal for it or you take months of cooking for that lightning buff potion to get."

"Nah, I can do it in hours, even tomorrow!", Phlydiane confidently told her. "Don't make it sound impossible just because I am better than you.", she said as her eyes rolled out.

"Oh, look who's talking. That one girl who thinks she is so good and can defy magic rules just because she got an A+ score in Mrs. Gemphrian's test!", Mistulia said in a mocking tone. "You will never do that, flea face, that is what the Book of Incantarions say is the minimum."

"Your rules don't apply to me, oh please. Unlike you who sticks with your books, I can make my own ways and explore. You are just smart, but not creative."

Mistulia casually puts her hand in her bag as if she is getting something.

"Alright, let's make a deal young lady. If you don't have a lightning buff potion by tomorrow, you drink this!", Mistulia said as she shows a bottle of brown liquid.

"What the hell is that?", Phlydiane asks in quite disgust.

"Oh, just my little ventrem confractio bottle. Drink it, and see how you puke your guts all over the place to my heart's desire!", Mistulia said with a grin.

"Deal! However if I brought, YOU drink that crap.", Phlydiane told her.

"Oh sure, either way. I will not drink this, trust me. You better off prepare your leather bags as you barf all over the place. Face me tomorrow, 2 AM at the moonsilver fountain at the plaza."

Phlydiane agreed to her demands, and walks away while being stared at with her classmates around her.

"Why are you staring at! Get off your lives, suckers! I got a job to do!", she said angrily as she hurried home.

Phlydiane, just finished with he potion work, raises her lightning buff bottle. At that moment her father, the great mage-alchemist Pernigcian, enters her room.

"Oh, what's that young lady? An experiment underway? You like to follow my work, don't you?", her father said as he folds his magic robes away. Chaffed with a beard and wearing his spectacles, he turns towards his daughter as she spoke.

"Yeah, I did this potion. Because my classmate couldn't believe me that I can make this in just a short time. So I made a bet on her."

"Really? You making bets now? That doesn't sound too nice for you to do."

"They just don't know your methods, father. They don't know your ideas and kept insisting that age-old Incantations book! Your ideas of alchemy can change magic!"

Her father laughed quite a bit, and patted her on her shoulder.

"Phlydiane, be responsible, okay? I don't want to reveal this to anyone. I trust you to keep it a secret."

"Why do you want it to be secret? This is marvelous!"

"Phlydiane, I don't know what will happen. If people found out about this, they might saw us as sorcerers, using black magic. And all I just want is your safety. I don't want you to get into trouble. So please, keep our methods secret, okay?"

Phlydiane reluctantly agrees as her father embraced her.

"Care to take a look at what you have done?", he asks her. Phlydiane reaches out her glass bottle.

"The lightning buff aetherium luminata. Let me guess, you used coal for this, right?" Phlydiane smiled a bit. "Coal and diamond are just the same form of one thing, just arranged differently. And that is what makes this possible. You will really make expense of doing it the old way. But hey, this is the last time you will do this. Keep it hidden as much as possible, okay?"

"Very well, father. I'll keep my promise.", Phlydiane agrees.

The Magical Academy of the Magus Delegation was one of the most renowned in the land for training Adventurers who could help various kingdoms with their problems. Wizards who stoppered death, and bottled dragon's breath in neat orderly bottles while carrying scrolls covered in ancient glyphs and sigils. Sorcerers who molded the world around them through will and cunning. Warlocks who bargained with spirits and fey for secretive power. Even the occasional Bard, or Mystic would come from it's halls to perform quests for profit.

Most of the students in this academy were legacies, defended from retired adventurers who had made their fortune, and were passing the torch. I was different.

The 5th son of a fisherman and his wife, I had nothing to inherit, and no real cause for learning much beyond how to use a knife and trim a sail. But I knew some magic. I mostly worked with simple things. Cantrips and spells from the evocation school were my specialty.

It had all started when one of the 'Legacies' had stolen my components, and chucked them out the window. I had minutes to aquire enough components to perform 3 spells, and had only been able to find a salt shaker that was half full.

While other potential students laughed at me, I performed my first spell, by casting shocking grasp. The salt shaker had been made of rough quartz, and has a silver lid, so the shaker itself worked for this. The crystal structure flexed as I passed some magical current through it, and Zzzzap. Mild electric current.

Next I focused and cast a sleep spell on a rat in a cage. Sand was normally used, but both sand and salt are forms of crushed rocks that came from the ocean, so I was able to focus, and get the desired effect.

Being a Evocator, the natural third spell was elemental in nature. I conjured a spark from the salt shaker, passed the current through a handful of salt, and then threw the silver metal, Sodium, at the target, it lighting up with fire as it arced from my fingertips. Shocking Grasp, Sleep, and Firebolt. Although, the room did smell a bit like a pool.

The Legacies looked like they had eaten lemons. Their parents looked like they had eaten the trees the lemons came from. Some of the staff, who I would soon learn had a predisposition towards richer families that could afford to pamper their kids teachers, sneered at me.

The headmistress though, she smiled stood, and asked if I wanted to be her direct apprentice.

That's how I started on my path to becoming an adventuring Mage, with just my wits and a salt shaker.

"well" she said, swirling the glass of cheap spirits round "I don't know why you all spend all that money on rare materials, Mandrake root dragged from the ground under the light of a full moon, the hair of the mane of a Unicorn, The sweat of an Angel,And a huge dressing up mirror, it's all tremendously expensive"

she took anouther mouthful

"Now those ingredients in the right time of the moon, in the right proportions get you alife extension artifact that'll take years off your age. and you complain that because my recipe for the first stage of my spell uses everyday items and only results in taking a decade off your age rather than 25 years that the expensive stuff does my work is shoddy"

"Now let me tell you ladies, you don't know what you're talking about"

she said forecfully, a thin finger pointing at everone else around the circle.

"An amount of flour, some sugar, some butter, some mystical spices, and a few currants and combine them all with the proper incantations into the correct runic shape. and pretty soon you've summoned the second part of the spell. sometimes you don't even need to do the first part, Move to an area with enough stepmothers, and they'll supply the second parts materials for you. O.K. the second part tends to be messy and involver much work for the meatcleaver, and you do have to watch out for woodcutters, they tend to mess with the rituals."

She downed the glass and got up to walk out, shaking her head

"Shoddy, just because I don't use royalty in my ingredients"

"Kids, you could spend a week and eighty coins turning that princess into a frog, or you could opt for the snake. It's not nearly as romantic, but it's a helluva lot cheaper," I said.

"But, knights don't expect a snake!" one of the kids cried.

"Wouldn't you say the princess deserves better than a knight who would thumb his nose at a perfectly good serpent?"

The students shook their heads as they always did. Well, except for that one kid who got it. The one who realized that there was an easy way to to the top in life, doing as little work as possible, undercutting the competition, and still coming away with more net coin than anyone else.

She was staring at me, but it wasn't the usual stare - eyes full of greed. No, these eyes were inquisitive, full of curiosity. She wanted to know more.

I dismissed the class and she came up to me.

"Name's Ambrosia," she said, putting out her hand as if she were an accomplished mage. I was reluctant to take it, instantly suspicious of the girl. It was only the first day of class and there was time for things to go awry.

"You know who I am," I said.

"Yeah. You know, I've read all your books..."

Now, this was startling. Truly something spectacular. Most of my star students still had to be encouraged to even pick up Basic Spells on the Cheap, and then getting them to read You Shouldn't Cast That was often impossible.

"Yes?" I asked, intrigued, expecting a question of great depth.

"You're wrong about the snake," she said.

What I had read as a curiosity in her eyes had turned out to be animosity. I was affronted at once. "No I'm not," I said with confidence. "I've converted twenty-three princesses to snakes and turned a profit of over a grand. The frog guys have pocketed two-fifty at most."

"You've made an assumption about your profit, and they're all smart enough not to tell you that you've been making less all these years."

Rage flowed through my veins and I thought of sending the girl away at once, but I held onto enough intrigue to hear her out.

"Go on."

"First, it doesn't cost eighty coins to cast Transfiguration: Frog. Do you know that mage's guild you refuse to pay membership fees for? It grants them access to an underground market where the ingredients are cheaper. It's thirty coins to your twenty, so long as the customer agrees to keep the price secret. Second, they've got three times the customers you do. So they're really turning more profit."

I shook my head. This was impossible. Lies. All of it.

"How do you know this? And why would you let me in, if they're all in on it?"

She looked shaken, almost as if a tear were to come to her eye.

"Because..." she started to whimper. "You turned me into a snake, and I hated it. Hated it, hated it! I wanted to be a frog. Frogs are nice. Frogs are cute. So I vowed to find you one day and get you to stop."

"Oh..." I looked away from her, thoughts running through my brain.

I concluded that I needed to re-evaluate my profession.

r/StoriesToThinkAbout

Most mages have their classroom in a grandiose hall or a auditorium.

"Teacher..." Neima sheepishly looked at the mage beside her. Under a tree wasn't exactly a good place for teaching. So the gazes bothered Neima a bit.

But with a wave of his hand he spoke,

"Ignore those pretentious pricks. Now use silverware like a spoon for a catalyst and..."

Neima watched for a third time as the magic activated. She scribbled in her notes as the mage walked to the side and sat down on a chair.

"Now tell me despite the lack of Catalyst Crystal why did the magic activated."

Neima scratched her head for a proper answer. The mage waited for her to come to a conclusion.

"You used silver spoon as a catalyst."

"Yes. But why? What's my reasoning behind this?"

Neima once again scratched her head and looked back at her previous note and a word came to her attention,

"Mana Conductivity."

The mage grinned.

"Correct! Like the Catalyst Crystal, Silver has high enough resistance and conductive power to syphon Mana. But if you don't have silver what can you use instead?"

Neima was getting a bit scared honestly. Today he used simple Iron and a copper coin as a catalyst. Now silver yet there are more things that can conduct Mana.

Seeing her puzzling look the mage answered,

"Salt water."

The answer baffled Neima.

"We will end the experiment here today. Review what you learned. Next class we will learn effect of Mana in lower temperature."

Neima quickly noted down all the questions for homework. The mage got up and started to leave. Unlike usual Neima followed,

"You have something you wanna ask?"

"Teacher...why do you do these?"

The mage chuckled.

"Everyone ask me that sooner or later."

He shook his head as he answered,

"My answer is the same as always Neima. My goal is to make Magic available for all. Just like how my teacher intended."

"Did she really come up with all these?"

"Yes actually. She taught me all those concepts. Conductivity, Resistance, Super Conductivity and so on."

The mage sighed.

"Alas, the grand council never took her hypothesis seriously. Can't blame them though."

"Why not?"

"Well even to this day I'm not sure what she meant by Charges or Magnetic Wave. But I'm sure I can figure it out one day."

The mage said with confidence. He was her greatest student. He was also the only student but he skipped past that part.

The mage still remember how she spoke of a power. A power so great that would revolutionize the world. With that power no child will die because of cold. No house will be without light.

Yet no matter what he can't for the life of him figure out how to create that power.

She spent her life to bring it to fruition. And as her successor he must do it too.

Neima showed promise. Maybe if he fails he could pass her masters notes to her.

For everyone his master was a mad and disgraced mage. But he knew better.

"Do you wanna a hear a story?" the mage suddenly chimed to Neima.

"Uhh... Sure."

The mage smiled,

"This is a story my teacher often used to tell me."

The mage remeberd fondly as he spoke out,

"It's about a man who invented greatest power that changed the world."

Neima looked interested,

"Is this a real story?"

"Well according my teacher it's just a story from her home."

The mage turned towards her,

"She named me after man in this story."

Neima could see the look of pride and fondness in his eyes.

With a cough he started the tale,

"This is the story of Edison and how invented the power of Electricity."

The Budget Mage

Flowing gold and rolling silver. The coins rain from a heavy purse onto the table next to mine. The smug look on the man's face as my customers chase his overflow is nearly too much to bear, but I bear it, because I have a secret.

The woman before me shrinks with shame into her chair, her nuggets of raw copper laid out before me. She hungrily eyes the coins, knowing the risk she's taking on a rumor over food. She doesn't deserve this. Nobody does, not even this rich buffoon.

"Sir, would you mind sparing me a gold coin for a brief demonstration?"

"Perhaps if your customers weren't so lazy, you'd already have one."

He may not deserve it, but he sure is trying to earn it. No matter.

My grin widens. "Can anyone in line spare me a gold coin for a demonstration? I promise you'll get your money's worth and then some."

10 gold slam onto my table faster than the man can blink. The confusion in his face is delicious. He doesn't know it yet, but I've got a secret.

"Oh, how nice, they found the gold I dropped. I'll take it back now, please." A soft, manicured hand extends, palm up.

I primly drop the coins into his hand. The smile on my face has spread further, finding mouths in my line. They know that I've got a secret. Mr. Gold and Silver is now wearing a delightful confused frown.

I pull out 10 copper coins and lay them out with the 4 copper nuggets. As I touch the nuggets, they fall to pieces into a pile of copper coins of the same amount. The woman's face falls, but then brightens. "This isn't what I thought they meant..."

On each of the coins is a portrait of the king. I gently boop each tiny regent on the nose, and his frown turns to a smile.

The others are so excited to pick up their one copper, while silver & gold is staring with a mix of outrage and disbelief. My newest customer is starting to smile too. It won't be real magic to her until her belly is full, I know. It wasn't real for me until then either.

Months later, on a quiet day, Silver and Gold is back. Well, mostly. This time he's much more... cloth and dirt. He lays out a single copper coin. "All I have left. Why did this happen? The only thing I can think of is those smiling fools and their copper... what magic is this?"

I cannot hide the sadness from my face. "You would confuse the magic I make for them for the magic that unmade you? No, you received all that you paid for."

"What I paid for? I asked for magic that would make my servants happier, and that purse was worth more than this whole bloody town."

Behind his eyes, you could see a single copper coin slowly drop and bounce a few times. A flash of anger.

"Oh no. You don't know the worst part yet. They came to my line. They paid me too. Can you guess what they wished for?"

"My RUIN?!" he spat the word onto the table, a faint speckle of phlegm flying satisfactorily onto the table he'd so recently covered in coin.

"Would you believe it, but no! They were so grateful for their generous pay, comfortable quarters, and annual day off (all compared to your field hands) they asked for you to be just as happy as they. Their hearts were full of generosity, but they could only afford true magic."

"CHEAP magic!"

"Oh really? Can you afford it?"

A sullen silence for a few moments, followed by the jingling of a coin purse. A few silver totter out on to the table.

"All I have. Really."

He's desperate enough that it's true, and yet it's still not enough for me to feel better. His fear is just more of the yawning pit that I'm trying to fill with kindness. He won't pick up a shovel today and help, but at least the hole will be a tad smaller.

I boop the king on his copper on the nose. "Roll the coin down the street and follow it. Don't bother trying to remember the route, it's just me showing off my magic through a fancy teleportation scheme. The price is kindness. You'll know it worked when the king's nose glows. When it glows, boop it like I did."

"But why copper?"

"I told people to bring something that had no value to them. If they bring something valuable anyhow, I give them exactly what it's worth and not a copper less. It's a simple teleportation spell."

"What if they bring nothing?"

"Then I pay them a copper for their thoughts."

"How can you afford this?"

I stare at him for a while. I wave my hand and a meal appears. "Lunch?" another wave. "Dinner?"

"I ...... that doesn't answer my question."

"I waved my hand and food appeared. I waved it again and different food appeared. Magic right? How much food did you leave laying to rot in the sun last month while my line had to go on one meal a day, or none?"

An uneasy shift in his seat.

"You don't have magic, but we both know why you didn't wish for magic. You're educated enough to know the cost. How long before the mage you paid is dead? A decade? Two at most?"

His face darkens. "So what crimes are you atoning for then, budget mage?"

A good start?

In the grand halls of the Arcanium, my fellow mages cast intricate spells, their luxurious velvet robes fluttering with every gesture. Meanwhile, I quietly practiced my modest magic in the corner, clad in a humble cotton robe.

"Lucius!" bellowed Archmage Branthor. "Redwater needs our help. Their harvest has been destroyed by a sudden frost, and their people are starving."

Lucius, a mage known for his extravagant spells and rituals, stepped forward. "I'll need several weeks to gather the necessary materials and perform the ritual, but I can save their crops."

I hesitated, knowing that Redwater couldn't wait that long. But instead of voicing my concerns, I decided to act on my own. I packed my meager belongings and set off for Redwater, determined to help them in their time of need.

Upon arrival, I gathered the necessary ingredients: salt, a bit of twine, and a single copper coin. With a short incantation, I sprinkled the salt over the frostbitten crops, wrapped the twine around the coin, and uttered the final words of the spell.

A warm breeze blew through the fields, melting the frost and reviving the withered crops. The villagers rejoiced, gratitude shining in their eyes. I simply asked them to keep my identity a secret, not wishing for recognition.

A week later, Lucius arrived in Redwater, laden with exotic ingredients and scrolls detailing complex rituals. The villagers exchanged amused glances, then directed him to their flourishing fields.

Lucius stared at the vibrant crops in disbelief. "But how? My ritual wasn't even complete!"

The village elder, a twinkle in his eye, explained that their crops had been saved by a mysterious benefactor, who had used a simple, yet powerful spell. Lucius, his face red with embarrassment, sputtered an apology before departing, his reputation bruised but his ego intact.

As word of Redwater's miraculous recovery spread through the Arcanium, the mages wondered who the mysterious hero could be. I kept my secret, a smile playing on my lips. I was the budget mage, and my swift, effective magic had saved a village, proving that grandeur and extravagance weren't always necessary to make a difference.

In the empire of Uvort, magic is used for a variety of purposes. Art, rituals, warfare, & medicine. Magic itself is restricted for the Nobels & religious servants, as they are considered the only ones “worthy” enough to wield it.

In Uvort, there are several orphanages who take in babies & teach the children to perform rituals & make potions, strictly meant to aid the medical needs of nobles. They wouldn’t object, they were taught o worship Nobles as highly as their gods. It was their duty to serve a Noble, even if it costed their own life. If you did not follow these instructions, you were not a Blue Robe Mage.

In one orphanage, there was a girl named Maggie Day, her last name comes from the South Day Church. She was a very dedicated young girl. She loved the feeling of helping out the nobles & using magic. But she also fell behind her peers, only being able to remember a fraction of the spells, earning teasing from her siblings & hard schooling from her teachers. At some point, a Nobel, Sir Draco, came to Sour Day when Maggie was 15. He went around the church to pick out his personal Blue Robe Mages. As he walked around, he noticed Maggie’s radiating dedication despite her low skill level, he knew he needed her.

Later on, Maggie & couple of her sisters were chosen to aid Sir Draco & his family. Maggie was excited to work for Sir Draco, driving her to work hard & please her new master. In the end, Maggie’s life was simple & pleasant from them on, but there was something bugging her. She often found it strange how the servants never got the same got any treatments. They worked just as hard if not harder then the mages, even helping the mages out, yet we’re never allowed to be healed by magic. If the mages are allowed to do this onto themselves & other mages, why can’t the servants be given that privilege? This puzzled Maggie.

One day, a servant skinned their leg & was venerable to infection. Despite this, they were not given treatment. It was only when Maggie stepped up & went to help the servant. She treated the servants wounds & prevented an infection. The servant was extremely grateful, but Sir Draco didn’t show the same attitude. He talked with Maggie & told her to never to do it again. She asked him why, he responded saying servants weren’t worthy, gods & the earths gifts shouldn’t be wasted upon trash. Maggie objected saying they weren’t trash, but Draco stood firm & demanded she never do it again with a thunderous roar. She crumpled & went with his demands.

Later on, Maggie would try to convince herself what she did was wrong, but seeing how grateful the servants were showed how good of a deed it was. She couldn’t hold it in & decided to secretly help out the servants. Unlike normal rituals requiring days of prep & expensive ingredients, Maggie would settle for cheap substitutes & do quick rituals. Over time, she managed to improve these rituals & make them far quicker, taking only a minute to execute with 2 minutes of prep. It was because of this that she managed to get away with treating the servants. But, she would eventually be found out, leading to her being punished by whips & casted into Thunder Tomb prison, where she would be reformed to serve only the nobles. But Maggie wouldn’t budge, despite the torture she believed what she did was right. She believed the servants deserved as much respect as nobles.

At some point, a coup was formed against the Uvort empire. The rebels leading the coup aimed for Thunder Tomb & freed prisoners who were captured for reveling against authority, including Maggie. Maggie’s wounds were treated by the rebels, but she after gaining enough strength she treated herself. Soon after this, she was asked to join the rebels. At first hated the idea of fighting against nobles, but remembered how horrible they treat servants, especially the people they imprisoned. She agreed to join, as long as they didn’t stoop down to barbarians. It was then that Maggie Day became the rebels first Blue Robe Mage. She helped to treat wounds of the injured & teach others how to use magic. She also learned how to improvise with the recourses she had, just as she did with Sir Draco’s servants. Eventually, she managed to make quick & cheap, yet effective rituals to heal soldiers & people. And, it was easy to learn, a far greater quantity of people easily could learn these rituals with enough practice, plus there were only a few to memorize, leading to quick mastery with only one thing to focus on. Maggie was proof of this, she was the fastest healer & her results were extremely effective despite the speed of the ritual. These healers & Maggie far outclassed the traditional Blue Robe Mages on the empires side who were still struggling to shorten their medical rituals & retain similar effectiveness, along with having to spend lots of money on expensive ingredients.

Eventually, the rebels won. A new partial Democratic Republic government was formed by the rebels, leading to greater civil rights to servants. And, Maggie Day was renowned as the Blue Saint, known for her innovation in medical rituals & god like skills. Maggie Day founded the Blue Day church, a church that would teach anyone of any social class how to perform medical rituals & assists all they could support. Maggie Day felt proud of herself, knowing she made a great impact & proved a great help to others. Eventually, she died at the age of 56, a pretty good life span during her time. She was greatly remembered for her warm personality, peaceful attitude, & skills. She even has a holiday named after her called MaggusDayus, a holiday where one helps out their community & celebrate with magic fire works.

"Ah, good. You're here. I was wondering if you'd arrive."

The woman was maybe in her 40s or 50s - it was hard to tell with way aging went here. She eyed me with the tired yet observant most mothers were known for.

"You don't look much like the mages around here." She said. There was a note of suspicion in her voice.

"I'm not much like them, either." I said, putting my bag down. "I was told this was urgent?"

She gave me a nod, and put away her sewing kit. She then got up, dusted off her apron from loose threads, and gestured for me to follow.

"I first noticed it ten moons ago." She said, leading me further into the house. "The shaman called it the Black Curse. Said this area is influenced by the Great Evil... He said to call a mage, since he didn't have the resources to get rid of it. But I'm not made of money. So he recommended you..." She glanced back at me with the doubtful look I was very much used to now. "...Anyway. We're here."

She moved to the side and pointed to the wall. I crouched down by the cool stone and observed the little, black clusters on it. I sniffed the air. Musty.

"What happened that you noticed it?" I asked, getting up.

"My kids started sneezing and coughing any time they were in this room. I thought it was the work of an evil spirit, so I got some ground up Unicorn horn to sprinkle around. That's when I saw it."

I looked around the room as she spoke. I quickly spotted what I was looking for.

"Where's that coming from?" I asked, pointing to the ceiling. The heavy wooden blocks soaked through on the side of the inflicted wall.

The woman glanced up thoughtfully. "Just the roof over us." She said. "It's been raining a lot. Probably the straw needs changing."

I nodded and faced her. "Okay. I can give you the solution. But it's going to require work from you, too."

She gave me the doubtful look again. "Alright. What is it?"

I pointed to the wood above us. "Get the roof changed. Or cover it up for now at least. I was told you have some fire magic?"

"Just enough for cooking or starting a fire. Nothing much, as magic goes."

"It'll do. Use it to heat up the roof and wood to get rid of the water. After I get done with this, it won't disappear on it's own. You'll have to scrub it off and then put vinegar that I'll give you on the area. I'd also recommend checking if it isn't anywhere else in the house."

I could see her doubtful look turning into one of confusion with each next word I spoke.

"Aren't you going to use your powers to get rid of it?" She finally said. "What is this, vinegar and fire? That's it?"

I went back out to fetch the things I'd need from my bag. The woman followed me. "What sort of ruddy mage are you?"

"I never called myself one." I said. "Everyone else does, but all my rituals and things are basically science."

"Science?"

"Back in my wor... I mean, back in my country, we call mages 'scientists'." I took out the vinegar from by bag. In ideal conditions, I'd use stronger agents, but these people haven't discovered them yet. Thankfully, vinegar will work here too. "What you're dealing with is a fungus. It grows in places where it's damp, cold and dark, like the room where you found it in. And it can be defeated by removing everything that's keeping it there in the first place."

I was already back in the room by the time I finished explaining. The woman had been following me around all this time.

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" She said. "I don't know your country, or your mages. How will I know this'll work? No mage I know of uses this sort of method."

"The methods they use have the same principle, just far too overcomplicated for the issue." I said. "Knowing them, they'd probably put fire runes over the fungus and use a cleansing spell, which I'm guessing from observation, simply strips down all living things down to molecular level, and then charge you a hefty sum for it. None of that is necessary."

The woman watched me as I applied the vinegar to the affected wall, and then listened intently as I gave her a step by step instruction to eliminating it for good.

"You'll know it worked if after scrubbing it off, it doesn't reappear." I finished. She gave me one last uncertain look.

"And how much do I owe you?" She said.

"How much did you pay the shaman?" I asked.

"Three silvers."

"Then two silvers. And the promise to recommend me to anyone who needs household help."

"I still don't trust you." She said. "Especially for this price. No mage takes anything under one gold coin."

"But someone recommended me to you, didn't they?" I said. "Don't worry. Give this two wee- I mean, fourteen moons. You'll trust me then. Pay me when you do."

Two weeks passed. I recieved a small package at my door - two silvers and an empty vinegar bottle.

Come on down to my Simple Spell Shack!

Will you be able to defeat a dragon? No, but I can temporarily turn your hair whatever shade of purple you’d like. Have you ever wanted to levitate about 2 inches off the ground for about half an hour? Well do I have the spell for you. Dust the cobwebs in your hut with ease. Impress your friends with my Shrinking Spell. It only works on fruit and wears off in the matter of minutes, but it makes a great party trick.

While you’re here, enjoy a slice of my homemade apple pie. The taste itself is magical enough to have you come back for seconds!

Simple Spell Shack, at the corner of Magic and Fun.

super fast legal disclaimer voice (SSS is not responsible for misuse of spells. Do not use Purple Hair Spell if your are allergic to Purple Hair Spell. Fruit under the Shirking Spell may pose as a choking hazard for small children, not designed for children under the age of 3. Shrinking Spell does not work on cooked fruits or vegetables of any kind. Apple pie does not actually contain magic that will have the consumer retuning for seconds. Please use magic responsibly and remember: don’t enchant and drive.)

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