The chirp of a bird perched at the window woke Leno. It looked at him curiously before taking flight. He realized it was late into the morning—he had forgotten to close the windows at night, but thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed.
The workshop was nestled between two taller, abandoned buildings. In fact, the whole street seemed deserted, as if everyone had forgotten it existed. Once a bustling shop street, most buildings still displayed front windows or hanging signs, remnants of their former charm.
Leno saw little movement in this part of town; only the occasional vermin served as his closest neighbors.
As he did each morning, Leno stretched and sat cross-legged on the floor, laying his spellbook out before him. A wizard needed to prepare the spells of the day, attuning his essence to the incantations written in his book for them to be properly cast.
Once he completed his preparations, he left the workshop, heading to the tavern for breakfast. A small sign hung over the door, adorned with a painting of a lute and sprigs of wheat; beneath it read “The Golden Lute.”
Inside, the tavern was warm and comfortable. It was less crowded this early in the morning, as most locals were already engaged in their daily tasks.
The owner, a woman with long, curly black hair and a sturdy build, looked like she could easily disarm any troublemaker. A prominent scar adorned one of her uncovered arms.
“Good morning, tavern keeper! I would like some food to start my day, if that's possible,” Leno said, approaching the bar.
“Quite the hour to start your day, if I may say,” she replied with a small giggle. Her voice was sweet but held a firmness that matched her demeanor.
“What will it be? A jar of mead, roasted meat, and potatoes, if that’s okay? I’m still preparing stew for the afternoon,” she added while she cleaned the glass in her hands.
Leno nodded and left a gold coin on the counter. “That would be great, thank you. Please keep the change. I will likely return later, so you can keep a tab in my name. I'm new in town.”
He knew a meal here would normally cost him roughly one silver piece. A gold coin would sustain him for at least a week. The woman examined him for a moment, sizing him up.
“And to whom shall I keep this tab? I’m Roxanne, the proud owner of this place. You must be the new face braving the worst part of town, right?”
Leno felt a blush creep to his cheeks. “Sorry for my manners; I’m Leno, and yes, that’s me. Word travels fast, I suppose.”
Roxanne smiled back at him. “No offense taken, kid. Please, pick a table. I’ll have your food out shortly, and welcome to Clover! Stick around long enough, and you’re in for some fun.”
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Leno offered her a short bow before selecting a table by the window that overlooked the street. He pulled out the Book of Alchemy he had brought with him and began to read while waiting for his meal.
The book was straightforward, likely belonging to some institution or academy based on its presentation. Leno quickly grasped the concepts laid out in it. If he continued studying, he might be able to learn something genuinely useful.
Deeply engrossed in the book, he didn’t notice when his food was served in front of him. “It must be quite the read for you to ignore my feast,” Roxanne said, breaking his trance.
He awkwardly smiled and muttered an embarrassed apology as he set the book aside. Immediately, he started to eat.
Roxanne chuckled and returned to her tasks. “Call me if you need anything else. Otherwise, I hope you have a fantastic day!”
The meal, though simple, was delicious—something Leno hadn’t fully appreciated with the excitement of the previous day. He ate while reading, taking notes and drafting plans for how to transcribe the book.
Once finished, he waved at Roxanne, who smiled back and called, “Come back soon! Don’t get lost!” For a brief moment, he wondered if she knew about his encounter with the bandits.
It was already past noon, the sun reaching its apex in the sky. The pleasant weather hinted at the last days of summer giving way to autumn’s golden hues.
Leno rolled up his sleeves and removed his cloak. Thankfully, the backroom on the first floor—what appeared to have been the main workshop in its heyday—still had a functional pump. He filled the buckets he had bought with water and soap.
Cleaning and tidying up the place would be a monumental task, demanding endurance from the wizard to avoid complete exhaustion.
He swept the dust out of the building, opening both windows and the main door to air it out. Next, he grabbed a mop and vigorously scrubbed the wooden floor with the soapy water, washing down grime through the main door.
Afterward, he dried the floors with cleaning rags and carefully applied oil to protect and restore the wood’s natural luster.
The endeavor took him most of the day, and he finished as evening approached, feeling a profound sense of accomplishment akin to the first time he successfully cast a spell.
After a well-deserved break, Leno had about half a day’s worth of work left to invest in the book. Lacking a proper table made things uncomfortable, but he couldn't afford furniture yet.
He appraised the books to estimate their value for transcription. Not having discussed a price with Remulus, he estimated that for his efforts, he could earn around 300 coins, considering the rarity and usefulness of the texts.
This sum motivated him; it would be enough to secure a proper setup for his work and fund at least some of his magical studies.
Leno couldn’t wait any longer. He prepared to start, casting a familiar, helpful spell that had aided him the most so far: Crafter’s Fortune.
Feeling the enchantment imbue him with good luck, making any creative endeavor a success, he felt ready to write. As Varol would say, it was a dash of magical inspiration.
His hands flowed with purpose, moving swiftly and accurately over the paper, not spilling a single drop of ink. His calligraphy was neat and readable, yet unique, a fact he took pride in.
Still, after all his hard work to make the place habitable, he could only accomplish so much before fatigue set in.
He managed to transcribe about a third of the book, storing his progress in a leather case before settling down in his bedroll. Even though his stomach rumbled with hunger, he had nothing to eat. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of a juicy apple.
