"The view is quite something, isn't it, young one?" came a raspy voice from behind.
Rebo snapped back to reality, turning around quickly. Behind him stood an elderly man with a long white beard, wearing a tall, pointed hat and draped in a reddish-brown robe. The deep wrinkles on the old man's face and his long, snowy beard were a testament to his advanced age, the oldest person Rebo had ever seen.
The man's wrinkles were not like those of Mr. Hyde, which had been carved by years of exposure to the harsh elements. Instead, the elderly man's face looked as though it had been etched with the lines of time itself, like a spiderweb intricately spread across his skin. Though Rebo knew little about this mysterious figure, he quickly deduced who the old man must be.
"A sorcerer," Rebo thought to himself, "This old man has to be a sorcerer!" Though Rebo had never seen a sorcerer in person before, everyone knew the stories.
Sorcerers were incredibly rare. While few had ever seen one, tales of their appearance and attire were common: the eccentric pointed hat, the loose-fitting robe, and the magical staff. Rebo couldn't help but notice that this man, though missing the staff, fit the image perfectly.
"Are you a sorcerer?" Rebo asked, his voice trembling with excitement rather than fear.
The elderly man smiled, the deep lines in his face crinkling further. "Yes, I am a sorcerer, though more accurately, I am an alchemist," he said. "You must be soaked through and through. That storm must've been quite a nuisance."
As the old man spoke, he pulled a handful of silver powder from his robe sleeve, casting it into the air with a flick of his wrist. Rebo watched nervously as the powder began to settle on his drenched clothes, unsure of what to expect. He had heard plenty of stories about sorcerers turning people into frogs or squirrels for fun, and his imagination raced with the possibilities of what might happen to him.
Suddenly, tiny bubbles began to appear all over Rebo's body. These bubbles multiplied, enveloping him in a soft, foamy cocoon. The young man could feel the foam creeping into his soaked clothes, absorbing the rainwater trapped there. In moments, Rebo's clothes felt completely dry. The bubbles then gently fell to the floor, forming a ring of frothy water around him.
"Amazing! You're a great sorcerer indeed!" Rebo exclaimed in awe.
The old man chuckled softly, "All that just to dry your clothes? That hardly makes me a great sorcerer, my boy."
Rebo stepped out of the circle of foam, his curiosity piqued. "Perhaps to you, it's nothing," he replied, "but to an ordinary person like me, that was incredible."
"We were all ordinary once," the alchemist said, "Every sorcerer starts out as a normal person. You could be a sorcerer too. Would you like to learn this kind of magic?"
Rebo's heart raced with excitement. He had never imagined that he might have the opportunity to learn magic. Meeting a sorcerer was rare enough, but becoming their apprentice?
"Really? That would be incredible! I never thought I could become a sorcerer's apprentice!" Rebo replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm. But as his excitement began to fade, he remembered his obligations—Mr. Hyde, Eckert, and the skills they had taught him. He couldn't simply abandon them, especially without understanding his mission.
"I... I have duties I must fulfill," Rebo said reluctantly. "Have you ever heard of Sir Kawele Aigre Hyde? He's a nobleman and the leader of the Thieves' Guild in southern France. He's training me for something important, though I don't know exactly what yet. I doubt he'd let me leave so easily."
"Hyde, you say?" the alchemist paused, furrowing his brow. "I do know of Hyde. In fact, we've worked together before. That was before he became a nobleman, of course. You're an honest lad to tell me all of this. You could have learned from me first and kept that to yourself. But you didn't."
The alchemist's gaze softened. "That's admirable. Tell me, what is it that Hyde wants you to do? You may not know all the details, but surely you've picked up on something."
Rebo hesitated but spoke candidly, "I don't know much, but Mr. Hyde is training me to become a noble—a noble named Rebo Benedetto."
"Rebo Benedetto? Ah, yes, I remember that name now," the alchemist muttered, his face brightening with realization. "Of course! I see what Hyde is planning. He isn't working alone in this. The Dauphin is involved as well. Ha! Just like old times—Hyde and Mel Dolphin. Clever men."
Rebo stared at the alchemist, confused. How did this man know about Mel Dolphin? The thought made Rebo even more curious. Clearly, the alchemist understood something Rebo did not.
The sorcerer noticed Rebo's confusion and gave him a gentle smile. "I think I know what Hyde is after, and it's important. Very important. I won't interfere. But, my boy, your task is dangerous. You're a bright lad, and I like you. You have the spirit of a sorcerer. So, from this moment forward, you are my apprentice. You can tell Hyde that you're now under the care of Master Marcik the Alchemist. He'll know how to handle it. Once your mission is complete, come back to me and I'll teach you all the magic you want."
Rebo's heart raced again. "Master, if you already know so much, please tell me. I've been struggling, not knowing what's really going on."
The alchemist shook his head. "Hyde will tell you everything when the time is right. Your role is crucial, but Hyde won't let you proceed without understanding it all. You just need to be patient."
The old man's eyes twinkled as he continued, "But before you go, I have something I need your help with."
Rebo's curiosity was piqued once more. "Anything, Master. Just tell me what it is," he said, eager to prove himself.
The alchemist pointed outside to the storm still raging around them, lightning flashing across the dark sky. "You see how frequent and violent the lightning is? That's no natural storm. There's something else at work here, something magical."
Rebo nodded. He had already noticed the strangeness of the storm. Bolts of lightning striking so close together and so intensely didn't seem normal at all.
"You're right," the alchemist confirmed. "This storm is magical in nature. The area affected by it is a magic dead zone. Inside it, the natural forces are so chaotic that even sorcerers struggle to perform magic there. Our powers attract the storm spirits, or 'lightning sprites,' and they are extremely destructive. If I tried to enter that zone, I'd only make things worse."
"And you need someone like me—a non-magical person—to go in?" Rebo asked, starting to understand.