After joining the band of adventurers, Terem was gifted with traditionally loose pants and a woolen overshirt. Although he had no tunic or leather clothes that would allow him to appear properly dressed, he at least owned his first set of proper clothes.
While exchanging casual pleasantries, Terem also discovered more about local plants than he would ever bother to remember within his life. For example, Lucy, the twin sister of Vanessa, much to Terem's surprise, pulled out an assortment of weeds from her pocket and began to categorize them based on their applications in medicine, cooking, and gardening.
She went on about Milkweed that, as its name suggested, infused a strong creamy texture to soups and porridges if the bud was gently warmed over a low flame. She delved deep into the basic yet various applications that Remsbud could be used to clean and hasten the natural healing processes of various wounds. One herb looked exactly like the common and annoying dandelion, but, apparently, if it was ingested in a broth of watered-down stock, it could cure common diseases such as the cold. The effects were scarily similar to a wives tale about chicken soup for Terem to fully accept these miraculous effects, though this was a world of magic so he gave the theory some leniency.
After half a day of walking and listening to Lucy's ramblings about herbology, Terem and the adventurer party, registered under the name of Blue Lightning, arrived within Merilin, a small country village that cozied up in a prosperous valley.
The view was impressive, to say the least. Waterfalls cascaded off from the high canyon walls only to crash into the deep pools below. Green grass lazily enveloped the valley and canyon walls while a herd of goats effortlessly bound up the cliff's steep incline. Small streams pooled together at the center of the valley bestowing upon the town its gorgeous namesake, Merilin Lake.
Entering the town, Terem became even more impressed. Cheery cottages lined the cobbled streets while children ran to and fro, either to avoid their mothers or in normal childhood games. Shops advertised their wares through windows instead of the expected stalls and a slight hum of activity was ever-present even though the time was well past dinner.
But the biggest surprise came with the cleanliness. Usually, when people imagined the quality of life within the middle ages, they were reminded of the drastic disparity between the high-flying noble life and the grimy conditions of the poor. However, the cobbled streets were clean of sewage and dirt. The quality of living was clearly very high and the local lord obviously cared for the people's well-being.
Curious about the sanitation within the city, Terem decided to ask his companions. "How are the streets so clean here? From what I remember of the last town I visited, waste was just dumped in the streets."
"Really? You must have visited some really isolated place, huh. Public facilities exist nowadays that specialize in dealing with waste. From what I hear, they dilute it with water magic and flush the wastewater down the lake. I hear it feeds the fish too."
Ron's answer came as a bit of a surprise to Terem. Logically speaking, magicians should be rare since nobody within the town of Verim cast a single magic spell. However, these people were treating magicians like they were an everyday commodity; literally only valuable enough to flush sewage out of towns.
"Aren't magicians supposed to be rare? Why would they be treating sewage?"
"Really dude, where did you come from? Those poor people must have been living within the stone age of magic." He shot a concerned glance in Terem's direction before adding, "You included Terem."
Ron was now curious about Terem, so he decided to voice his question. "Terem. I know your mana is strong and all, but can you even use magic?"
"Um, I can't." Terem's answer was sheepish. Uncharacteristically, he averted his gaze. Not because he was bashful, but because he was angry. Angry as he was forced to realize that he was far from the power he desired, from his key to freedom. It took Terem a second to replace his jovial facial mask and by then, the misunderstanding had already caught Vanessa's attention. His fate was sealed.
"Oh~, how cute. Terem's feeling all bashful, but it's okay. I'll be sure to teach you how to use everyday magic. Judging from your mana, you'll have no trouble whatsoever learning from someone as excellent as I." The monologue continued on and on and on. Ron and Lucy sent Terem a rueful smile but offered no assistance to his struggle.
Eventually, the group arrived in front of the adventurer's guild, one of the largest and liveliest buildings in the town. Terem could hear the raging commotion within from a block away and he believed that, if he magically enhanced his perception, he could navigate to the guild using sound alone. However, Terem already felt indebted to the guildhall. After all, the sheer volume of noise and merrymaking drowned out the unending voice of Vanessa, forcing her to close her mouth and wait for a more opportune moment to unleash her Gatling gun of a mouth.
Entering though, Terem quickly reevaluated the adventurer's guild. Quite simply, it was not a place for him.
As a man who valued silence, the noise, now unfiltered by the open door, was overwhelming. Terem looked around at a loss on what to do before Ron met his gaze. Clearly used to the cacophony, Ron signaled over to a counter at the far end of the hall before creating a pathway through the complex of dining customers, waitresses, and quest takers. Terem was quick to follow, fearing the consequences of losing his only stable lifeline.
As the four-person group approached the counter, a man looked up from the stack of documents piled up in front of him. The man appeared to be old, well past his 50s. Wrinkles coated his face along with various scars and pockmarks. But what caught Terem's attention the most was his hair. Although it could be due to old age, this man's hair was as white as a blizzard and mussed enough to play the part; although, it was fairly short.
"Finally back Ron?"
"Yep. Let me introduce you to our new recruit. His name's Terem. Found him laying down naked by a river. Can you believe it?" The man sitting at the counter, ignoring Ron's question, shifted his gaze to Terem.
Terem matched his gaze.
"So whose recruit is he, the guilds or your teams?"
Ron grinned. "He's all yours Tom."
The man named Tom grunted in reply before grinning along with Ron.
"Good. He's way out of your guys' levels. You'd only hold him down. So, Terem, you care to wash your hair or you scared of the old stigmas?" Tom's gaze was unwavering, but it brimmed with curiosity as well as laziness, appearing like a cat to all but Terem.
To Terem, the man was scarier than a cat. He was a puppeteer, playing with Terem and directing him wherever he desired Terem to go. Instinctively, Terem knew that this man knew everything there was to know about him. He was dangerous and he was murderously eyeing Terem down. Tom grinned seeing Terem's cautious expression, fearful eyes afraid to make any sudden movements.
"Hey kid, you did pretty well. You really must be a white hair to withstand that amount of killing intent. How did it feel? And while you're telling me, I'll get you a washbasin."
The three adventurer's heads swiveled to look at Terem, shock plain on their faces while the full meaning of Tom's words sunk in. Their eyes bolted towards his brown hair, finding small flecks of white peeking out from behind the fading mud coat.
He was a white hair, a being with power that could rival the strongest of wizards. Someone who was naturally attuned to mana. Someone who could control all the natural magics within their body, making it seem as simple as breathing.
That is what Terem's existence was in the modern magical world.