The Magic Shop (1)
The next day, Lawrence woke early.
He didn’t feel nearly as worn out as he’d expected. On the contrary, because he hadn’t once stirred during the night, he felt astonishingly good.
He warmed the water he’d left aside with Fire, then washed himself thoroughly.
Even soaking only his feet in the hot water made sleepiness come rushing back.
But this was no time for sleep.
Though his body felt limp and heavy, he forced himself to stretch.
The first-floor hall was almost deserted.
Compared to last night, when there hadn’t even been enough seats and most of the guests had been left standing, it was almost unbelievable.
He took a seat at the counter, and the maid he’d seen the previous night came over.
“Good morning. You’re up early.”
“Good morning.”
“You’re eating, right? For breakfast we have sausage and bacon. Either of those with Irish stew.”
“Then I’ll have the bacon, and milk to drink, please.”
“Just a moment.”
As the red-haired maid walked away, Lawrence looked around the hall.
There weren’t many guests eating breakfast.
One lodger had just come down from the second floor and was still fighting off sleep, while the few who were seated were busy gagging at their hangovers.
It was the ordinary life of an inn.
For some reason, it felt like he was seeing something human and familiar after a very long time.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
The breakfast the maid brought smelled delicious.
The Irish stew was thick and hearty, with plenty of meat and vegetables packed into it.
One spoonful, and warmth spread through his stomach.
It was the kind of stew made for a winter morning.
He cooled his heated mouth with milk, and when he lifted the salty bacon, a satisfied smile rose to his lips all on its own.
“You’re enjoying that quite a bit. Shall I bring you some more?”
“Wouldn’t an extra order cost more?”
“Not today. It’s from the tip you gave yesterday.”
Before he could answer, the maid was back with another bowl of stew.
For some reason, she sat down beside him.
As the boy raised another spoonful of stew, the maid asked, “I heard you came here on the mercenary guild’s recommendation. Are you really a mercenary?”
“I may not look it, but I’m Bronze Plate.”
“You don’t look like it at all. So it’s true, then.”
“What do you mean, I don’t look like it?”
“You look like you wouldn’t be able to catch even one goblin. But then you say you’re a mercenary, so of course I’m curious.”
Lawrence frowned slightly.
“I don’t know what kind of mercenaries you’ve seen, but appearances aren’t everything.”
“My name’s Anne. What about you?”
“Lawrence.”
“Nice name. So, did you enjoy Cedric’s song yesterday?”
She changed topics so quickly it was almost dizzying.
Behind the counter, the owner was making a displeased face, but Anne just kept talking as if it didn’t matter at all.
“It was more disappointing than I expected.”
“Figured as much. Cedric’s singing voice is honestly pretty terrible. Still, he’s handsome enough that it doesn’t matter.”
She tapped her own face lightly.
“Try to get along with him if you can. Birds of a feather and all that. Cedric’s a long-term guest too, but he never really gets along with the male customers.”
“If that’s the standard, then I’m the same, aren’t I?”
At Lawrence’s counterquestion, she gave a small smile.
“You asking because you don’t know?”
“...?”
He genuinely had no idea what she meant.
“Think about it, Lawrence.”
Anne didn’t answer. Instead, she gathered up the dishes and walked away.
Was she simply teasing him?
No. Judging from the atmosphere, that didn’t seem quite right.
Lawrence finished the rest of his milk and stood.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
After leaving the inn, Lawrence headed first to the mercenary guild.
He paid the deposit from what remained after covering his lodging.
There were two bulletin boards where requests were posted: the one in the central square at the crossroads, and the one at the mercenary guild.
All that was left was to wait for word.
After noting down the room of the inn where he was staying, Lawrence stepped out into the street.
The receptionist had mentioned the ogre extermination request, but there was a shop he wanted to visit before that.
Ever since he’d heard about it in passing on the street, he’d been itching with impatience.
And when a passerby later confirmed it for him, he’d clenched his fist without even realizing it.
Leaving the city proper, Lawrence crossed the square and headed there.
Among the tightly packed shops, one old building stood out sharply.
The place, which looked rather like an antique store, was the magic shop.
Chime.
The shop inside was full of the smell of paper.
Books and odd little antiques whose purpose he couldn’t guess overflowed from every corner.
His first impression was less a magic shop than an old bookstore.
There were so many books that he almost doubted the owner could possibly know every volume he sold.
“Welcome. Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”
The clerk was a disheveled pink-haired girl wearing glasses.
Perhaps because glasses were not all that common, Laurence found himself thinking of Laurzara from the Witch’s Forest.
“Um, excuse me?”
“Ah, sorry.”
Realizing his mistake, Lawrence spoke carefully.
“Do you happen to have spellbooks?”
“Yes. What sort of magic are you looking for?”
At such a perfectly natural response, he swallowed his delight.
They had them.
At last, he could get a spellbook.
His heart thudded so hard it felt ready to burst from his chest.
“Would it be all right if I asked what kinds you have?”
“There are so many I’m not even sure where to begin.”
“I’d like to look at offensive magic first. No, actually, basic magic.”
“Understood. Please wait here a moment.”
She walked deeper into the shelves.
He could hear the rustle of books as she searched for one.
“But why would a pilgrim of the Church be looking for a spellbook?”
So the shop clerk who worked in a magic store really was different in some way, then.
She must have recognized his pilgrim’s clothes at a glance.
Lawrence hesitated over his answer.
Miracles and magic were not things that could coexist easily.
As everyone knew, the Church and the magic towers were not on good terms.
Would the answer he gave decide whether she sold him a spellbook or not?
No. That couldn’t be it.
He dismissed his anxiety at once.
“I want to learn it.”
Was it an unexpected answer?
When the clerk came back with the book, her tone had grown a little stiffer.
“You’ll regret it.”
“Regret it?”
“Yes. Most people give up after learning for only a few days.”
Lawrence accepted the book she held out.
“This is a basic introductory text. If you want to learn magic, these are the things you have to study first, so take this one.”
But from the very start, he was left speechless.
The reason was simple: he couldn’t read the writing on the cover.
“Um... I’m terribly sorry, but do you have anything easier?”
The clerk stared at Lawrence.
Because of the glasses and the messy hair, he couldn’t see her face.
So he had no idea what kind of expression she was wearing.
“Wait here.”
Instead of returning to the shelves, she went to the counter and took a book out of her bag.
“This was a primer I used when I was studying letters. Start with this.”
It was an old book.
So much had it been read that every page was frayed and worn from handling.
Lawrence’s face darkened at once.
The problem wasn’t the condition of the book.
No. It was much worse than that.
He couldn’t read most of the writing inside it.
“How much is this?”
“Hmm... just two silver pieces. Think of it as a deposit. Once you’ve learned everything, bring it back and I’ll exchange it for the next letters book.”
The next one. At the implication that this wasn’t the end, he asked reflexively, “There’s more?”
“How are you supposed to read a spellbook with only a single beginner’s volume? Even if you memorized one book a month, you’d still need months just to interpret it.”
It felt like the sky was crashing down on him.
His lips trembled despite his own will.
“All five books?”
At that precise number, Lawrence could not close his mouth.
His head had already been splitting from trying to interpret the scripture, and now he was being told he had to study not one, but five books? It was impossible to believe.
“All five books?”
He wanted to deny reality.
He asked again with the exact same words, not changing a single syllable.
“Look, five books still wouldn’t be enough. Spellbooks aren’t written in just our kingdom’s language, you know. There are the neighboring kingdoms, the empire, all of that. Even if you set everything else aside, ancient languages are mandatory. If you’re already whining after this much, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to you.”
“......”
“You said you wanted to learn magic, didn’t you?”
“Um... could you just show me the spellbooks instead of the letters books?”
No matter how he thought about it, this wasn’t right.
It wasn’t a matter of pride.
There were things a person could do and things they couldn’t.
“Can’t you read at all?”
“I can read, but... this kind of difficult text is a first for me.”
“You’re a pilgrim of the Church.”
“Even scripture isn’t this bad.”
“......”
At the earnest answer, a laugh escaped her.
But Lawrence couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
It might have been amusing to the clerk, but for him this was a serious matter.
“Be reasonable. You can be careless about magic all you want, but there are limits. Leaving mana aside, what kind of magic are you hoping to learn if you can’t even read text like this?”
She was right.
He had no retort.
When she saw how disheartened he looked, the clerk’s voice softened.
“There are some kinds of magic you can learn without a spellbook, sure, but not all of them can be taught that way. Magic that you can see is still manageable. It’s easier to form the image in your mind. But magic you can’t see is another matter entirely.”
She pointed at the book with one hand.
Then she muttered something under her breath.
“Telekinesis.”
With the activation word, the book rose into the air.
After drifting for a moment, it returned to the clerk’s hand.
“That’s one of the basic spells, telekinesis. So? Do you really think you could learn magic like that without a spellbook?”
“......”
Lawrence was deeply shocked by the sight.
There was the surprise of seeing a clerk who handled magic.
But that wasn’t the only reason he was shaken.
He hadn’t understood it.
He had watched the start and end of the spell, and still he couldn’t make sense of it.
It was the first time he’d ever experienced something like this, and he covered his face with one hand.
Why?
Why couldn’t he understand it?
Was all magic like this?
“What about offensive magic? Since it’s more intuitive, maybe it would be a bit... ”
“No wonder beginners...”
He heard a small sigh.
“You know one thing but not two. If you think offensive magic is only about the visible form, you won’t be able to draw out its true power. No matter how advanced a spell you learn, if you don’t understand its true meaning, its strength weakens. Now do you understand? Why you have to read spellbooks and understand what they truly mean.”
As though she had indulged his complaint enough already, she cut herself off.
“There’s no shortcut on the path of magical study. I’m saying this for your own good. If you really, seriously want to learn magic, then study letters first.”
Stubbornness would not solve this.
It was Lawrence who was hungry for magic.
He could not skip necessary steps just because impatience was gnawing at him.
This wasn’t like the magic of the holy age.
Accepting that fact, Lawrence bought the letters book and left the shop.
“I’ll be waiting. A cute little pilgrim who wants to learn magic.”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
When he opened his eyes, Lawrence was seated in a chair.
His whole body ached, as if he’d fallen asleep while studying letters.
It was the middle of the night. Or perhaps the dead of the pre-dawn hours.
Fatigue pressed down on his eyes, but there was no time to rest.
Lawrence washed his face with the water he’d prepared in advance.
The cold water jolted some of the sleep from him.
Studying letters was, at its core, memorization.
He had no choice but to keep reading and writing until he had it all memorized.
Lawrence silently thanked the friend his age he’d had at the monastery.
If it hadn’t been for Marjorie, he never would have even been able to start on his own.
It felt like he hadn’t really used his head in a long time.
Known words and unknown words.
He’d been studying by trying to infer meaning from sentences and piecing everything together that way.
Luckily, it wasn’t useless.
After refilling the lamp with oil, the boy sat back down.
On the desk lay the letters book he’d been reading.
He dipped his quill in ink and began hammering the words into his head one by one.
He knew it.
Even the writing in this book was full of words he didn’t know.
In a spellbook, there would surely be not one or two but hundreds, maybe thousands of unfamiliar words and sentences.
As things stood, he wouldn’t just be unable to interpret it—he wouldn’t even be able to read it.
Even if he forced himself to buy a spellbook, it would be the same.
He couldn’t keep studying in his lodgings forever.
Once he set out on the road, he would need to reduce the bulk of his luggage as much as possible.
He couldn’t carry several letters books with him all the time.
At that rate, who knew when he’d ever learn magic?
Why was it?
The book blurred before his eyes.
Tears kept welling up in frustration.
He was so angry at his own pathetic self that he could hardly bear it.
He’d wanted nothing more than a chance to learn magic.
And yet the moment he came face-to-face with letters, his resolve had slackened.
What was all that talk about wanting to learn magic?
What was all that talk about not wanting to miss the opportunity?
This had shown him that he’d only been saying things that sounded impressive.
Once again, he understood just how easily he had learned magic until now.
Without the help of the neighbors from the spirit world, Lawrence was no closer to learning magic at will.
Magic was a discipline devoted to learning the laws of the world.
How could understanding the world be easy?
He had to try harder. Harder still.
If the morning wasn’t enough, then through the afternoon.
If the afternoon wasn’t enough, then into the evening.
If evening still wasn’t enough, then even into the pre-dawn hours.
He would have to invest every available moment into learning magic.
He had been foolish enough to think he might have talent.
What nonsense.
Every mage had talent.
Without it, no one would even be granted the right to touch the laws of the world.
Talent was only the starting point.
Lawrence had merely reached the starting line.
Look up and see the other mages.
People like the clerk at the magic shop. In academies and magic towers, there would surely be no shortage of noble-born mages who had spent their lives enjoying comforts.
They had never once known hardship in all their lives.
They had lived all their lives being served, and a noble mage like that could not even be placed on the same scale as an orphan boy who had wandered the back alleys.
Food. Learning. Clothes.
They had surely been given things Lawrence could hardly imagine.
By contrast, he had always been rolling in the mud.
He had almost died more than once because he simply lacked the strength, and even when he strained his meager wits to act carefully, the world gave him nothing but a cold reply.
The days of failure had become scars too deep to name, carving themselves into the hidden corners of the boy’s heart.
Alone, struggling with letters by himself, he finally felt as though he were facing his own tiny self.
The tear tracks running down his cheeks.
The blood from the fingernail marks dug into his palm.
All of it spoke for the helplessness of the boy he had once been.
But that was no reason to give up.
So what if he was small?
So what if he had nothing at all?
His zeal for loving magic was not something he would lose to anyone.
If it could be called his only pride, then so be it.
He didn’t care if he had to lick the mud from the ground.
So long as he could reach out and seize the result.
He wanted to place the magic won through effort into his own hands.
The tears shining in the lamplight glittered softly.
Wiping at his increasingly blurred eyes, Lawrence tightened his grip on the quill.