Aldric woke late the next morning, his body aching and his mind foggy. The Attunement had taken more out of him than he'd expected. He lay in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, adjusting to the new sensations flooding his awareness.
He could feel the emotions of the people in the neighboring rooms—a dull ache of loneliness from one side, a spark of irritation from the other. He could sense the psychic residue left on his pillow, faint traces of his own dreams and nightmares. The world had become richer, more complex, layered with information that had always been there but that he'd never been able to perceive.
It was overwhelming and exhilarating in equal measure.
He forced himself to get up, to wash and dress. He needed to eat, to regain his strength. And he needed to start learning how to control his new abilities before they controlled him.
He descended to the common room, where Mrs. Keller was serving breakfast to a handful of early patrons. She glanced at him and frowned.
"You look like hell, boy. Are you sick?"
"Just tired," Aldric said. "I didn't sleep well."
She grunted skeptically but didn't press the issue. She brought him a bowl of porridge and a mug of weak tea. Aldric ate slowly, trying to adjust to the constant stream of sensory input from his new abilities.
He could feel Mrs. Keller's emotions—a mixture of concern and suspicion. She didn't trust him completely, but she didn't dislike him either. She was pragmatic, focused on running her business and surviving in a harsh city.
The other patrons were easier to read. One man was anxious about money, his thoughts circling obsessively around debts and deadlines. A woman was nursing a broken heart, her emotions raw and painful. An old man was simply tired, worn down by years of hard living.
Aldric realized he was going to have to learn to filter out the noise, to focus only on the information he needed. Otherwise, the constant barrage of other people's thoughts and feelings would drive him mad.
After breakfast, he returned to his room and spent the next several hours practicing with his abilities. He created small illusions—a flower that wasn't there, a sound of footsteps in the hallway, a change in the color of his shirt. Each illusion required concentration and drained his energy, but he was getting better with practice.
He also experimented with reading thoughts. He found that he could sense surface thoughts—the immediate, conscious things people were thinking—but deeper thoughts were harder to access. It was like trying to hear a conversation through a thick wall. He could catch fragments, impressions, but not the full content.
That would come with time and practice, he knew. As he advanced through the Tiers, his abilities would grow stronger and more refined.
By evening, he felt confident enough to venture out into the city. He needed to test his abilities in a real-world setting, to see how they performed under pressure.
He made his way to a tavern in the Merchant District, a place where traders and merchants gathered to drink and gossip. He found a seat in a corner and ordered an ale, then settled in to observe.
With his new abilities, the tavern was a riot of sensation. He could feel the emotions of everyone in the room—greed, lust, anger, fear, joy. He could sense the surface thoughts of the men nearest to him—one was worried about a shipment that hadn't arrived, another was planning to cheat on his wife, a third was simply enjoying his drink and thinking about nothing in particular.
Aldric focused on the worried merchant, the one concerned about the missing shipment. He reached out with his mind, gently probing at the man's thoughts. The merchant was thinking about a cargo of spices that should have arrived from the southern provinces three days ago. He was worried that it had been stolen or lost, and he was calculating how much money he would lose if it didn't show up.
Aldric filed that information away. It might be useful later.
He continued to observe, gathering information, learning how to use his abilities without being detected. It was intoxicating, this power to see into people's minds, to know their secrets and their fears. He could understand why mages were so feared and respected. They had access to a level of information that normal people couldn't even imagine.
But he also understood the danger. If anyone realized what he was doing, if they suspected he was reading their thoughts, they would react with hostility. Mages were tolerated in the capital, but they were also watched carefully. Using magic to violate someone's privacy was illegal, and the penalties were severe.
He would have to be careful. Always careful.
As the evening wore on, Aldric noticed a commotion near the entrance to the tavern. A group of men had entered, and they were causing a disturbance. They were drunk and aggressive, shoving other patrons and demanding service.
Aldric recognized one of them—it was Finn, the man he'd met in the Warrens, one of Marcus Blackwood's associates. Finn's eyes swept the room and landed on Aldric. His expression shifted from drunken belligerence to recognition, and he stumbled over to Aldric's table.
"Well, well," Finn slurred. "If it isn't the pretty boy. I heard you made a deal with Marcus. Bought yourself a crystal, did you?"
Aldric tensed. Finn was drunk and loud, and he was drawing attention. This was exactly the kind of situation Aldric wanted to avoid.
"Keep your voice down," Aldric said quietly. "You're drunk. Go home and sleep it off."
Finn laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Don't tell me what to do, pretty boy. You think you're better than me now that you're a mage? You think that makes you special?"
Aldric could feel the emotions radiating from Finn—resentment, jealousy, anger. Finn had been in the Warrens his whole life, scraping by, never getting ahead. And now Aldric, a newcomer, had achieved something Finn never could. It burned him, that jealousy, and the alcohol had loosened his inhibitions enough to let it show.
"I don't think I'm better than anyone," Aldric said, keeping his voice calm. "I'm just trying to survive, like everyone else. Now please, go home. You're going to get yourself in trouble."
Finn's face twisted with rage. "Fuck you," he spat. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You're nothing. You're just another noble brat playing at being dangerous. Let me show you what real danger looks like."
He reached for the knife at his belt.
Aldric acted on instinct. He reached out with his mind, focusing on Finn's surface thoughts, and pushed. It was a crude technique, one of the first things the manual had described—a mental shove, a way to disorient an opponent without causing permanent harm.
Finn's eyes went wide and unfocused. He stumbled backward, his hand falling away from the knife, his expression confused. "What... what the hell?"
Aldric stood and grabbed Finn by the arm, steering him toward the door. "You're drunk," he said loudly, for the benefit of the other patrons. "Let me help you get home."
He half-dragged Finn out of the tavern and into the street. Once they were outside, he released him. Finn staggered, then turned to glare at Aldric.
"You... you did something to me. You used magic on me."
"I stopped you from doing something stupid," Aldric said. "You were about to pull a knife in a crowded tavern. That would have ended with you in prison or dead. I did you a favor."
Finn's anger faded, replaced by a sullen resentment. "I don't need your favors, pretty boy."
"Maybe not," Aldric said. "But you're going to get them anyway. Go home, Finn. Sleep it off. And don't mention to anyone that I'm a mage. If word gets out before I'm ready, it could cause problems for both of us."
Finn stared at him for a long moment, then nodded grudgingly. "Fine. But you owe me for this. I kept my mouth shut about you and Marcus. Now you keep your mouth shut about tonight."
"Deal," Aldric said.
Finn stumbled off into the night, and Aldric watched him go. That had been close. Too close. He'd used his powers in public, in a moment of panic, and it could have gone very wrong. He needed to be more careful, more controlled.
He walked back to the Copper Bell Inn, his mind racing. The encounter with Finn had been a wake-up call. He had power now, but power without control was dangerous. He needed to train, to practice, to master his abilities before he used them in any situation that mattered.
And he needed to register with the Consortium. Marcus had been right about that. The longer he waited, the more suspicious it would look. He would go tomorrow, present himself as a newly attuned mage, and pay whatever fees were required. It would be expensive, but it was necessary.
As he lay in bed that night, Aldric reflected on how much his life had changed in just a few short weeks. He'd arrived in the capital with nothing but a handful of gold and a desperate ambition. Now he was a mage, connected to the criminal underworld, entangled with a courtesan who traded in secrets, and on the radar of some of the most powerful people in the Empire.
He'd crossed a line tonight, using magic on another person. It had been in self-defense, more or less, but it was still a violation. And he knew, with a cold certainty, that it wouldn't be the last time. The path he'd chosen was a dark one, and it would only get darker as he climbed higher.
But he'd made his choice. He'd committed himself to this path, and there was no turning back now.
The game had begun in earnest, and Aldric Thorne was playing to win.
Whatever the cost.