"The harvest? We were attacked by bloody magical farmers?!" Cyran said with pure disdain dripping from his voice.
"Magical far-? No, Citrus, The Harvest. As far as is publicly known about them, they are a rogue group. They were never that active, you know the occasional robbery here and stabbing there but never anything on a larger scale. So nobody really knows what they are about, the rascals." Abus replied, staring back at Cyran pensively. "This tragedy could never have been predicted."
"They just... they stole everything from me. I don't even know where the rest of my family and the other villagers were taken. Abus, I woke up as a contender to win the sentinel selection. I wanted to go on to become an adventurer. Just like... " Cyran's mind wandered to the katana in the ground outside, deflating his spirit even more.
Abus' stare changed, it became curious, "and just what did he tell you about his time as an adventurer?"
"Nothing, he would never tell me about those days. I only knew he was one, and heard maybe the odd story here and there."
"Well, that IS a shame isn't it. I guess you will just have to become a much more renowned adventurer in his stead," Abus said, his face regaining some of his usual cheer.
"Not until I find my family and the village folk," suddenly with more fire in his voice, Cyran swung his legs out of the bed. Before he could stand, Abus tilted his head to one side.
"How much do you know about your people, exactly?" Cyran was caught off guard by this question. Fire rose in his stomach, he was being treated like an infant. He rose from the bed in defiance, determined not to be seen as some child.
"What do you mean 'what do you know'? Do you believe me to be some naive, clueless babe?! Of course I kn-," Cyran was cut off by a sudden and tremendous force gripping his body. He collapsed back onto the bed, his posture as rigid as though he were a soldier.
"Oh my," Abus said with a grin, "touchy aren't we." Cyran's yell of outrage died in his throat when he saw the fierce glow coming from Abus' eyes.
"Naughty children do need a good spanking every so often but I find that rather vulgar. Now since you're sat so nicely, how about I tell you some things you may not know, oh wise one?"
The powerful force against Cyran suddenly vanished as Abus cleared his throat and started doing vocal warm ups.
'Am I really so powerless against magic? First those Harvesters and now this? Maybe if I knew how to fight againt mages, I could have helped father. Maybe he would still... be here,' Cyran glowered at the sudden feeling of helplessness.
Cyran used Abus' ramblings of Elven fertility to distract himself from his inner turmoil. The peculiar mage described how the birth rate for Elves was so low whilst their longevity was incredible. Whilst Elves had an abysmal awakening rate as mages, they had an extremely high affinity for the natural elements. This made the elves a threat to the human race, who themselves had a high birth rate which bolstered the already enormous population. Mages were very commonplace in the human race; children as young as 5 would awaken their talents and begin throwing basic fireballs around yet as a whole, humans were not loved by Gaia. Their magic could only progress so far, such were their constraints, although there were powerful mages that increased their power through hardwork and experimentation with their gifts.
"History tells of elven warriors that could decimate entire squads of mages single handed. Though they were not the individuals that terrified the humans into genocide, oh no. It was the elven mages," Abus paused his story to point his fingers in the air, sparks of all varieties of colours spewed from his finger tips, "thats right, there were mages in the elven ranks too. Though incredibly rare for a reason, these people were monstrous in their destructive capability. They almost put me to shame," puffing out his chest as though he were posing for an artist, Abus exuded an air arrogance that was somehow dampened by the hilarity of his motley outfit.
"Elven... mages?"
"That is correct! 10 points to young Syrril! Beloved by Gaia and awakened to the majesty of magic, these people could command thunderous spirits and bring forth calamity! Or so the story goes. This is what prompted the humans into driving elves into the forests. Though this was many years ago and, since then, peace has been declared. Though that peace is hard to keep when the assaulted party is capable of living long enough to remember," Abus got up and dusted himself off, gathering his things together, neglecting the fire wood he had just collected.
Cyran looked at him from his position on the bed, confusion embedded on his face, "what was your point?"
"My point? You could join the ranks of those that made history! You could be a mage and I have a way to test that."
The tone of the man standing in the doorway was that of someone who was sure of what he was saying; very few could muster absolute confidence in themselves as this man had proved to Cyran in the brief time they had known each other. A question burned in Cyran's mind. Everything his life amounted to was erased in the space of one day and this stranger, thrust upon him, had helped him get back to the village and also reclaim it. And now the very same man was standing in a fire damaged house offering him more. Why? Was he a friend or an enemy? The uncertainty of his fate lead Cyran's emotions along a thorny path, tearing at his soul with every step. Tears threatening him once again, Cyran spoke, "Why are you helping me?"
Abus' usually jovial, powdered face softened. He suddenly looked old, miserable. Tired.
"Because your father was a fellow mage. And he was my only friend..."