An Unexpected Opportunity
That opportunity came from a place I hadn't anticipated.
Over the ten years of my research, I'd produced countless dolls. Some went to fulfill commissions, others broke down when their lifespan ran out. But even more piled up in my workshop. So I casually handed the scraps to Nanny. I just hated how they took up space.
At first, it was only the leftovers from what I'd made. But Nanny told me they fetched a decent price. Even dolls that just twitched a few times amazed people. All the ones I gave her had been bought by the other servants for money, she said.
Huh. Could I really sell just dolls?
So next time, I tried making something a bit more convincing. Human-shaped dolls that danced or swung swords. I even fitted them with mana hearts that lasted about a week. And they sold like hotcakes. Who would've thought?
Dolls flew off the shelves as fast as I made them. Word must've spread. Soon, people started commissioning custom ones. Easier gigs than before, so I snapped them all up.
One wanted a doll of his younger self. I whipped up something roughly like the portrait he sent and shipped it off. He laughed his head off watching it swing an axe.
Another asked for his family. They paid big for three dolls, so I poured my heart into making them look harmonious and happy.
Someone else wanted his unrequited crush. Uh, okay. Awkward, but the payout was huge, so I nailed every detail.
I gave my all to their intricate, intimate requests. They appreciated it and didn't skimp on the gold. In a year, I raked in hundreds of gold coins. Who knew making money could be this straightforward? Before, a single commission took a month for maybe one gold coin. Now, a handful of dolls netted piles of gold. No way I'd let this slip. Five thousand gold? It was right there within reach.
With that mindset, I focused solely on doll-making. The buzz grew and spread through the clan like a fad. Nanny passed along the gossip.
And after who knows how long, Father summoned me. Father. The first call since I was born. Even when I awakened as a mage, he'd sent congratulations via servant. I'd never seen him in person. Few in the clan had.
With trembling steps, I headed to the rock house where he resided, atop the island's tallest peak in the thickest leyline vein brimming with mana. The intensity hit me like a shockwave.
Servants at the entrance bowed and opened the door. The interior was vast, cave-like, walls lined with taxidermied magical beasts. At the far end, an old man slumped in a worn chair, arm propped on a table, staring at me impassively.
Was that Father? Legend said he'd built our clan from starving beggars a century ago. A mage who conquered the island, claimed the title of Island Lord, and made everyone call him Father. I'd imagined a hulking warrior. But here was a scrawny, shriveled geezer. Hard to believe.
Then his eyes met mine, and I knew I'd been wrong. They writhed with killing intent and madness. The mana piled up over a century crushed the air from my lungs. Blood-like mana trickled from his sunken sockets. I bowed hastily; the pressure eased.
Father stared silently. I froze rigid, head down. He tapped the table with a finger. Lift your head, I guessed, and cautiously straightened.
"So, you're making dolls?"
His voice grated like scraping metal, chilling my spine.
"Yes. Nothing special, but I'm crafting dolls."
I answered tensely. He crooked a finger, beckoning. I approached warily. My past dolls cluttered the table, some dissected from inspection.
"Not bad."
He stood a sword-wielding doll and infused mana. It swung convincingly. These absorbed ambient mana to repeat programmed actions—fruits of my research. He watched impassively, then handed me a book from the table's edge.
"Make the woman inside this. Do it well, and I'll give you what you want."
I opened it carefully. Portraits of one woman, from youth to old age, like snapshots of her life.
"Who is she?" I asked cautiously.
"No need to know."
A flicker of sorrow crossed his eyes.
"I know you want off this island. Satisfy me, and you're free."
He released mana; a thin paper floated from the corner. A boarding pass—for a flying ship! No surprise he knew; Ojo said others he'd taught had escaped. Still, him bringing it up directly? A golden chance. One I'd never get again. I nodded eagerly.
He eyed the book in my hand, then flicked his wrist. My body floated out of the cave. Incredible power. What realm was that?
I clutched the book and left. His level wasn't the priority. Nail this commission. Pour everything into it!
Back at the workshop, I canceled all other jobs and studied the portraits. How to make her most lifelike? My eyes fell on the nearby lumber—cheap market scraps. Tough and aged, but no magic. Not good enough.
Wood was key; it formed the frame, and it was my specialty. Fine for before—enchantments outlasted weeds. But my future hung on this. Reasons didn't matter. Only that I needed it. No common wood.
I splurged my earnings. Gold bought exotic woods; hundreds vanished testing them. Finally, the perfect one: some seaside tree the merchant called azurewood. Sea winds infused it with blue tint. Several weeds got monster chow to harvest it. Irrelevant. Its mana flow sang to me; cool sea scent wafted nearby. Perfect for her aura and deeper magic.
But carving revealed issues. The heavy sea mana resisted. Enchanted blades caused explosions. Pure mana killed the flow. Months of trials failed. Frustrated, I wandered beyond clan lands to the commoners' market.
Why here? I browsed idly: food, necessities, clothes. Nothing. Turning to leave, I spotted an old man setting up stall. Scrawny, balding, missing pinky and ring finger. Unremarkable, yet magnetic.
He paused, glanced at me lingering silently, then resumed. He unpacked carvings. I couldn't look away. Cheap wood, yet more alive than my dolls. Human ones laughed, chatted vividly.
"How much?"
"Hehe, two coppers each."
He finished unpacking, rubbing hands. Two coppers? Absurd. My dolls were junk by comparison. Selling these cheap?
"I'll take them all."
I sat before him.
"Oh my."
He blinked.
"Not fancy stuff. Cheap wood—rots or breaks quick."
"Fine by me. Mind if I watch you carve? I'll pay."
"Oh, oh my. So grateful, what to do."
He bowed repeatedly, then eyed me slyly.
"How much for the show...?"
I rummaged pockets—gold coins, all I had without thinking. Piled them on his stall. Worth every bit if it solved my puzzle. My gut said so.