The Mage of Dockside

The young woman could not believe her luck. There he was, not fifty feet away.

She had expected the search for the Mage of Dockside to be an ordeal. Days or weeks or more of trying to find the right person to ask, the right time and place to be in for someone like her to meet him.

But right now what she needed to do was resist the urge to just run right over to him. Because with what looked like a few large and unhappy bodyguards would do to someone like her, if she went running across the street.

Hedidn't need the bodyguards of course. They probably belonged to whomever he was going to go see. The mage of Dockside didn't need protection.

Instead inspiration struck. Taking a quill from her pack the young woman focused, and with careful precision used her own power to breathe magic into it. It was an incredibly simple spell, one that caused it to glow brighter than any torch, a pure white light.

She then hopped up and down, waving the magical light to try and get his attention.

It felt more than a little silly, but it worked, as she could clearly see the taller man spot her, smile, then say something to one of the bodyguards walking along with him.

Within moments a man who was probably more muscle and scars than any actual human emotion came striding over to her. Although he wore a simple tunic, no leather or metal armor, she knew this man to be a hired guard.

"You, come with me." He said.

Not a question, not even a pat down. Just the simple command and the expectation that it be followed.

He could be a decent enchanter with that kind of command.She thought of the man.

As she was walked over the young woman dismissed the spell on her feathered quill, shaking it away and stowing it back in her pack. She had gotten the attention of several other people around the busy street. Simple, common folk who had likely seen little to no magic before then. But she was only interested in one person right then.

Up close he looked exactly how he was described, how she imagined him.

The Mage of Dockside stood just a hair over six feet tall, with hair so dark and sheen that it looked like a small spiky oil spill. He was too young for any gray hairs on his head or chin, but he was probably closer to thirty than twenty.

He was probably considered more cute than handsome when younger, but time and confidence gave him a look of an older man, perpetually amused by life. But there was something else, something about the way he stood maybe?

Like a man at all times considering violence as an option.

"Well, that is certainly a unique way of getting my attention. What can I do for you...?" He said, ending this statement openly, probably expecting her to introduce herself.

But she had no intention of doing that. She had only one thing on her mind at that moment.

"Oh, hi, yes." She started, poorly. "I just wanted to ask you... "

"Yes?" He responded.

"Are you Raphael of the house Richter?" She directly asked.

He did well to hide his shock at this question. The only reaction she saw at all was in his eyes, as the pupils narrowed as he stared at her.

"What an odd question." He said after a moment, with calm, almost practiced disinterest. "I am not, but I am curious as to who.... "

The mage then stopped himself, openly considering something, saying:

"Actually, let's not have this conversation here. Walk with me?"

Unlike the bodyguard just a moment ago, this was stated as an actual question, and he waited for a response.

As if there was any question as to the answer.

"Yes, of course." Was her response.

She walked to the side and slightly behind the man as he continued down the road. It was an easy walk as most everyone was quick to get out of the way, and those that did not were forcefully moved before they even got close.

As such the small group made great time, and not long after the dark haired mage said:

"You gentlemen can head back and let Oskar know that I made it, we can handle it from here."

"Ya sure?" One of the guards asked shortly.

"Yes, as you can see we are within sight of the estate. So you can honestly say to your master that you escorted me almost all the way to my doorstep without incident." Said the Mage of Dockside.

Without another word he turned and kept on walking, and in a panic the young woman moved to follow. She wasn't going to leave unless expressly dismissed.

The building that they headed towards was neither ornate nor large. But what it did have was a lawn, and a fence. Only the rich and powerful could have a place that wasn't built like it was jammed in between one of the thousands of buildings of a Dockside street.

He waved his hand and magically opened the gate, letting them onto the grounds.

"What do you think of my little home?" He asked her without looking at her.

"It...." She started to reply.

But something about the way he asked this reminded her of something. Only then did she realize what had just happened.

Quickly, and with almost no effort shown for it, the mage had cast used enchantment magic on her. A spell designed to get her to speak her mind, what she was really thinking.

"What doyouthink of it?" The young woman responded with a smile, basically openly defying the spell, showing him that she had noticed it and resisted it.

"Hmm, more interesting questions. But I will tell you my answer if you tell me yours."

"Well, I think you value your privacy." She said.

Now he seemed to have an honest, real smile on his face.

"Oh yes, you are a clever one. That I indeed do. And to answer your question, privacy is about the only thing I do enjoy about this location."

As they reached the front door he added:

"Honestly I would prefer just a simple apartment somewhere closer to the markets. But..."

"Then you would have too many people come knocking." She answered for him.

"Yes, yes." He confirmed.

They had intentionally not opened the door, or gone inside yet.

"Why not have a place like that along with this one, or several? Just keep them a secret?" She asked after a moment of silence.

The mage of Dockside went back to the smile he had when they first met, like he knew all too much.

"Who says I don't?" Was his answer.

Finally opening the door, the two of them were greeted by a young man, a teenager really. He wore a butler outfit, but had the look of someone who worked at a library.

"Master Morgan, welcome home. Do I need to prepare the guest room?"

The young man asked this second part without looking at her, but it was obviously about her.

"I'm not sure yet. For now simply prepare a tray and leave it in the lounge." He said, stepping inside.

The lounge turned out to be a small room with two tall leather chairs, a couch, a fireplace, and not much else. She had somehow expected bookshelves. She was also surprised at the lighting. Of course he had candles to help light up the interior rooms, instead of torches. But she might have thought he would have had spell bound lights, to illuminate without the need for flame.

The tray the young man brought out included a few glasses, some cheese and a couple bottles of what was presumably alcohol.

"Can I take your bag?" The tall, black haired man asked.

Before she even realized it the Mage of Dockside had slipped the strap from her shoulder, brushing her hair aside as he did so.

"You are obviously not from around here." He commented, placing her bag down next to one of the chairs.

"Why do you say that?" She asked in response.

"Your hair. It is a beautiful blonde color, and the salt in the air around Dockside would damage it over time."

"There are no blondes in Dockside?" She said with honest incredulousness.

"There are of course, but to keep it healthy would require oils and shampoos." He explained with a smile, motioning for her to sit.

As she sat, the young woman said:

"Ah, and since I don't have either in my hair right now...."

"You are a visitor. Would you prefer water or wine?"

He was already pouring himself wine.

"I... would you be offended if I had just water?" She answered.

"No, of course not." He said again with that practiced, knowing smile, as he handed her a glass of water. "A mage has to keep her head clear of course."

He looked at her expectantly.

"You want to see if I will deny that assertion." She said.

"Just so. Yes, you are a clever one. And honest too, a rare thing."

Sitting down himself now, the Mage of Dockside continued:

"As such I feel the need to respond with equal honesty. To answer your first question again, I am trulynotRaphael of house Richter."

She was not surprised, just disappointed.

"Not the answer you were hoping for Ms...?"

"Oh, right, sorry. My name is Hera."

Laughing an honest laugh, he responded:

"Really?"

"Yes." Hera said plainly, matter-of-factly.

She expected at that point for some kind of comment on her name. She had heard them all of course.

"So how is Zeus doing?" Some people might ask her.

"Named after any other gods?" Others would say.

But not him. Instead he simply shrugged and said:

"Well, you may call Morgan. But if you absolutely must call me the Mage of Dockside, I won't stop you."

It wasn't a title. Nobody had given this man that moniker. It had simply developed over the years. There were of course other magic users in Dockside, other magi. The guilds alone probably had hundreds.

But him, this Morgan, he wastheMage of Dockside.

"So, Hera, can I inquire why you asked if I was Raphael?"

"Well, I am looking for him, on behalf of his family."

"Hmm, and why me?"

"Because it would certainly be a reasonable explanation."

He stared at her for a moment before saying:

"An explanation for both what happened to Raphael, and how I came to be the Mage of Dockside."

"Yes."

Taking a sip of his wine, Morgan the mage said:

"I like you Hera. You say much while saying little. That is a difficult skill, one that even I struggle with."

"Thank you."

"Yes, just like that." He laughed. "You don't say anymore than you need to, a simple thanks. Yet I don't think you will be satisfied with just that, will you?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, uncertain.

"I mean, if I opened my door now and let you leave, you would be disappointed."

She couldn't argue with that.

"So, go ahead, ask your question." He said.

Hera was quiet for a long, long moment before asking:

"Do you know where Raphael is?"

"No, try again."

He is testing me again.Thought Hera.

"Where is Raphael of house Richter right now?" She said in a stronger tone.

"There we go, and if you had cast an enchantment spell along with it to try and force me to answer, I might have been able to tell you."

"But?"

"That question is a complicated one. But do not fear young mage, I will do my best to answer it. All I ask is that you follow my instructions." Said Morgan.

That gave her pause.What kind of instructions?

"Which are?" She asked after a moment.

"That you listen to me tell the story of how I became the Mage of Dockside and, to start, take a sip of the wine."

Hera looked over at the bottle and empty glass. For a moment she considered asking if she could pour it herself.

But she literally started to laugh at that thought. If this man had wanted her dead, he didn't need to poison her. He probably didn't even need to do it himself.

"Yes, of course." She answered through the laughter.

"Very good. It is excellent wine if I do say so."

Taking a sip, she had to agree.

"Now, my story technically begins as all our stories do, when I was born. But we shall skip ahead to when I first stepped foot into Dockside, and leave the rest a mystery for now."

Hera leaned back and took another sip.

*****

I was twenty two when I came to Dockside. Obviously younger than I am now but still a man. I came here with nothing more than a small pack for traveling food and my money pouch.

I honestly could have made it without either, but it is best to play it safe with such things.

Dockside was, on the outside, exactly the same then. You could smell it before you could see it, and the buildings stretched for miles. Beasts of burden, mostly oxen, filled up the streets as they took goods from the boats sailing into port and distributed them.

But for me Dockside smells not like animal filth, but burning animal fat. They make an almost countless amount of different kinds of oils and other products from rendered fat in Dockside. Being a port city, the winds not only push the sails of the arriving ships, but also take the vast majority of that smell away. But not all of it.

My plan upon getting here was a simple one. Try to find the right person with the right information at the right price to learn what I needed to survive. As such I wanted to find the perfect establishment.

I was picturing a gentleman's club, one in an area that was not in the slums but not fully in richer areas, one that locals here call the Palisades, which I think the simple folk got confused with the term for palace. I wasn't sure what Lords or Ladies I might inadvertently run into just yet. So I initially avoided those areas.

But before I even got that far I was stopped by some rough looking locals. If you are imagining hood wearing thugs with sharpened daggers then you are giving them too much credit.

I laughed in their faces.

"What is so funny, fancy boy?" The lead thug asked me when I laughed.

"Nothing, nothing. It is just, I didn't expect to get mugged on my very first day in Dockside. Its reputation is well deserved." I told him.

"Well then, hand it over."

"I think not."

"Eh?" He responded to me stupidly.

Holding out my hand I focused my animus and used magic to conjure up a simple wooden staff, like something you might use as a walking stick.

The reality is that at that moment I was defenseless, if they had all rushed me at once they likely could have killed me. But since this was likely the first time any of them had seen real magic in person, they simply stared.

Once the staff was complete, I used a simple invocation on the tip of it. Pretty much the exact same spell you cast on your quill to get my attention, a bright blinking light on it.

"Okay, who wants to die first?"

I asked this while slowly turning the staff from one to the next. But they had already started running.

I couldn't help but wonder if I had gone too far. Maybe a simple flame evocation would have been enough to scare them off.

By the time they had all left my sight I had already dismissed the light and tossed the staff aside. I sometimes wonder what happened to that particular one, probably turned to firewood most likely.

Eventually I found myself exactly where I wanted to be. I could tell just by looking at the building, it was probably worth more than all the other buildings around it combined. And standing outside it was a well dressed man with arms larger than my head.

"Hey there fella, I don't know you." Said the doorman as I approached.

"Indeed, my first time here."

I took a gamble and lifted up my arms. In the cheaper places they would either let you straight in or forcibly pat you down. And of course in the truly upper class establishments the doorman would never dare search the patrons.

But I wanted something in the middle, some place that might have someone like a guild artisan looking to blow some extra money that week. The kind of place where they would check you at the front door.

And my guess was right on the money, as the doorman quickly ran his hands under my traveling cloak and into my pack, making sure I was unarmed. He also squeezed my coin purse, presumably to make sure I actually had money.

"Alright, what's yer name?" He asked.

"Eric." I lied.

"Eric huh? Didn't peg ya fer an Eric."

"I get that a lot. Just out of curiosity, what kind of name would you guess for me?"

"Eh? Well, don't take this the wrong way, but yer hair is pretty long."

"It is, I need to get it cut." I responded, feeling it go past my shoulders.

"So, when I saw you turn the corner down there I actually thought ya was a lady at first. No offense."

"None taken."

"So, I guess maybe a name that could be for both?"

"An androgynous name?" I offered.

"Ya, that. Something like.... Morgan."

I smiled at that. Then, taking a coin from my purse, I placed it in his hand and said:

"Then you should call me Morgan."

The coin was gold and had the imprint of a crown on it. That was quite the tip for him I could tell, probably more than he would get all day.

"Well then, go on in and enjoy yourself mister Morgan." He said, opening the door for me.

Inside was what I had been expecting. Not a bar or a restaurant, but a club, one where men who had the coin to spend, spent it on relatively pricey drinks and smokes.

What I wasn't expecting was for the serving girls to all be walking around bare breasted. I remembered thinking:

Okay, maybe not as fancy a place as I first thought.

But the place served its purpose. I made quick friends with the barman, honestly telling him that I was new to the area and was looking for some advice.

You see, I was an investor, I told him. Looking to put some money into Dockside business and wanted a quick rundown of who was who. I bought a couple drinks, brazenly fondled one of the girls as she served me, then excused myself with the information given to me.

Where I was headed to next was a place that, on the surface might have appeared similar, but in reality could not have been more different.

I was headed towardsStag's Head.

InsideStag's Headthere were also young women serving customers. And many of these young women were in a state of undress as well.

But this was not a gentleman's club, this was a brothel.

Just as before I was checked at the front door for weapons, this time tipping the doorman far less. Once inside I talked to a female pimp, whose name I cannot remember. I told her exactly what I was looking for in a woman, and she said she had just the girl for me.

Tarcy I remember quite well. She was older than you are probably thinking of for a whore named Tarcy, but I didn't really care. I wasn't there for her looks, and I wasn't there to fuck her.

The moment we were in a private room together I started crafting a spell.

"Uh, mister, what are you...?" Tarcy said in confusion as I worked the magic together.

As you have seen, I can work an enchantment together as quickly as the best of them. But this was no minor compulsion magic. This spell required almost a solid minute of me working the magic together, before I cast it upon her.

Tarcy's eyes went limp and I knew the spell had worked.

"Tarcy, what is your real name?" I asked her.

"Liddia. Mom called me Liddy." She answered, her eyes not looking at me, but staring off into the distance.

"Pretty. How long have you been a whore?"

"Four years, since I was sixteen."

Confident that my spell was working, I knew that she would answer any question I asked of her to her best ability. More than that, she would do pretty much anything I asked of her. Something like jumping off a roof might have caused the fear to snap her out of it, but short of that I could order her to do anything.

"Go ahead and strip naked." I told her while turning to magically lock the door. Didn't want anyone walking in on us.

"Do you have people who watch the rooms through peepholes?" I asked, looking around.

"Not in this one, but Buck can hear pretty much everything from his room."

"We will keep our voice down then."

"Okay." She responded softly.

"Liddia, Liddy, would you say you know most of the people around Dockside?"

She shook her head.