Leon pulled on his gray mage's robe, adjusting the cuffs to fit his slim wrists. The fabric was a curious blend—outer layers like sturdy cotton, inner lining soft as silk—cut short to his thighs with tapered sleeves, designed for movement rather than ceremony. It was slightly too big, Erika having insisted on buying a larger size "to grow into," but it hung neatly enough, the deep slate color making him look older than his twelve years. He tucked the small wooden box and rolled scroll into a leather pouch, slinging it over his shoulder before heading out.
The walk to Lord Sainsbury's manor was short, the evening air crisp with the first hints of winter. Torches lined the stone path, casting warm glows on the manor's wooden walls. Inside, Leon found Im resting in a small antechamber, sipping herb tea. "You're early," Im said, nodding at the pouch. "Gift ready?"
Leon nodded, pulling out the box to check the pen one last time—gold alloy nib glinting, adamantine tip barely visible, wooden shaft carved with swirling patterns inlaid with gold and silver. "I practiced Blaze Hand like you taught me," he said, summoning a small flame in his palm. Instead of hurling it, he held it steady, the fire deepening to a rich crimson as he focused on controlling its heat. Im raised an eyebrow as the air around them warmed slightly.
"Good control," Im said as Leon snuffed the flame. "Blaze Hand is just a tinder spell for most apprentices—you're turning it into something precise. That will serve you well for fire magic later." He leaned back, voice dropping. "Remember why we're here. This isn't just Dahlia's birthday. Lord Sainsbury wants to announce my presence to the other nobles. More mages mean more trade—magic materials, herbs, ingredients for potions. It's cheaper than buying from the capital."
Leon's mind wandered to Eldrin's journal, filled with notes on rare herbs from the Whispering Forest. "Will they really trade valuable materials with us?"
"Nobles hoard things for generations," Im said. "Even in poor territories like this, there are hidden caches—moss from mana-rich caves, stones infused with elemental energy. They don't know their true worth. We do."
A servant knocked, announcing the banquet was starting. Leon followed Im into the great hall, where candles flickered in massive holders, their light reflected by polished bronze mirrors to bathe the room in warm brightness. The central long table was set for Lord Sainsbury, Im, and the visiting nobles, while smaller tables lined the walls for guests like Leon and Flower.
Dahlia stood near the head table, talking to a portly nobleman. She'd traded her usual leather tunics for a white dress with ruffled sleeves, her hair twisted into a neat bun, and Leon barely recognized her—quiet, poised, nothing like the girl who chased pheasants in the forest. When she spotted Im, she excused herself and hurried over, pulling him down to whisper.
"These lords are boring," she complained. "They keep asking about magic but don't listen to the answers."
Im chuckled, patting her hand. "Patience. They'll listen when they need something." He led her toward the central table, where Lord Sainsbury stood to greet them.
"Im! You've arrived," the lord boomed, clapping Im on the shoulder. "Dahlia's learned so much under you—she can cast real magic now!" His pride was evident, drawing envious glances from the other nobles.
Lord Sainsbury launched into introductions: "This is Baron Clive from the west, Baron Joyce from the south—their lands are far wealthier than mine. And Baron Coventry…" He hesitated, glancing at a thin nobleman with a bushy mustache, whose face darkened at the mention. "Baron Coventry oversees the eastern villages."
Leon caught Im's eye—Coventry's scowl suggested he was the one with ties to the "trickster mage" Im had mentioned earlier. He hung back, preferring to stay out of the spotlight, but Coventry's gaze fixed on him.
"Ah, the young apprentice," Coventry said, his voice sharp. "What gift have you brought for Lady Dahlia? Something magical, I hope?"
Leon's cheeks warmed—he hated being the center of attention. He pulled the wooden box and scroll from his pouch, stepping forward. "Happy birthday, Dahlia. I made this for you."
Dahlia's eyes lit up. "You promised it was something I'd never seen!" She opened the box, revealing the fountain pen resting on soft linen. Gasps rippled through the nearby nobles—gold and silver inlay glinted under the candlelight, but it looked like little more than a carved stick.
"It's a fountain pen," Leon explained, pulling off the cap to show the gold nib. "Like a quill, but better. The tip is reinforced with adamantine—never needs sharpening. It writes smoother, and you won't snap the shaft if you press too hard."
Lord Sainsbury took the pen, dipping it in ink and scribbling a few words on a scrap of parchment. "Remarkably smooth," he said, passing it to Baron Joyce. "Practical, though not as elegant as a quill."
The other nobles nodded in agreement—they valued style over function, unused to spending hours writing. Dahlia traced the carvings, smiling. "It's beautiful. But what's the scroll?"
Leon handed it to her. "Practice sheets. I picked problems that will help with your magic theory—math, elemental properties, even some logic puzzles." He'd snuck in Earth-inspired questions—carriage collisions, water tank filling rates, algebraic symbols—and watched as Dahlia's smile faded. She'd endured enough of his extra homework in the valley.
The nobles leaned in, squinting at the scroll. They didn't understand the symbols or the unfamiliar problems, but knowledge was a rare commodity in Etho. "Mage's knowledge," one whispered, eyes wide with respect. Coventry's jaw tightened—he couldn't mock something he didn't comprehend.
Dahlia rolled up the scroll, grinning despite herself. "Thanks… I guess. I'll do them tomorrow." She handed the pen and scroll to a servant, who carried them away carefully.
As the feast began, servers brought out platters of roasted venison, boiled mutton, and spiced sausages—mostly meat, with a few wilted greens tossed in herbs. The food was rich, heavy with spices, but Leon missed the variety of his own cooking in Moonlight Cottage—stir-fries, steamed dumplings, mushroom soups. The bread, from Erika's Bakery, was soft and fluffy, but it fell apart when dipped in the thick gravy. "Mother's bread is too good for dipping," he muttered to Flower, who laughed and nodded.
Halfway through the meal, the steward wheeled out a large cake—Erika's cream-topped creation, dried fruit glistening on top, with "Happy 10th Birthday, Dahlia" written in syrup. Gasps echoed as Im raised a hand, summoning thin Wind Blades that sliced the cake into neat pieces, floating gently onto each guest's plate.
The nobles froze, their forks hovering. Magic for serving cake—proof of Im's skill and control. Whispers erupted: "He makes it look effortless," "Think what he could do with real spells," "We should trade with him soon."
Im met Leon's eye, a faint smile playing on his lips. The plan was working.
Dahlia took a bite of cake, her face lighting up. "This is even better than last time!" She glanced at Leon, mouthing "thank you."
As the banquet wound down, nobles approached Im one by one, offering trade—rare herbs from their lands, stones that glowed faintly, even a vial of what they claimed was "star water." Im listened patiently, nodding at each offer, his mental list of needed materials growing.
Leon lingered by the cake table, eating a second slice, when Dahlia joined him. "The pen is amazing," she said, her voice soft. "And… thanks for the practice sheets. Even if they're boring."
Leon grinned. "I'll make easier ones next time."
She shook her head. "No—make them harder. I want to be as good as you someday."
As they walked back to the valley later, Im clapped Leon on the shoulder. "Tonight was a success. We'll have more materials than we can use. And your pen—clever work. Mages will pay well for something that saves them from sharpening quills."
Leon thought of Eldrin's journal, of the ruin deep in the Whispering Forest. With more materials, he could grow stronger, learn more magic. One day, he'd keep his promise to Eldrin. But for now, he smiled at the night sky, the manor's torches fading behind them.
The banquet had been more than a birthday celebration—it was a new beginning. For Im, for the bakery, for Leon's journey as a mage. And as the stars twinkled above, Leon felt more certain than ever that he was on the right path.