He Hadn't Even Spared Himself

What had happened to Faster in the past?

It was a pointless question. Why else would an elite hide his identity and run a tavern in a small town? The bard had said outright that Faster was a man with a story.

In any case, Faster ran the Dawn Tavern quietly and kept his mysterious past hidden. Perhaps he had grown fond of peace, but the occasional ripple that disturbed it could still amuse him—that was why he hadn't turned Annan away.

"I'm starting to think neither mage nor Sorcerer suits you," Faster said. "Become a politician instead."

Annan left before Evelyn finished tallying the accounts. Judging by how busy they had been, they had probably sold thirty percent more alcohol than usual. If business stayed this good, Annan could earn six silver coins this week.

In just two months, Annan could save enough to buy Tasia's freedom... But that was still too long.

The next day, at the Library.

Annan moved beside Mr. Victor and tactfully tested whether the old man might pay him in advance.

"An advance on your wages? Does that mean I can ask you to do your work in advance, too?" the stubborn old man said, just as expected.

Annan had to set the idea aside for now. Later that morning, Little Winchester came to the Library.

The "big Winchester" behind Little Winchester, along with the Winchester family, undoubtedly possessed immense wealth. As a noble, she probably considered the sum Annan needed insignificant.

It was hard to ask, but he had to save Tasia.

After writing "Little Winchester" on the visitor register, Annan asked her, "Did you bring any money?"

"What for?"

Her calm gray eyes settled on Annan.

Spotting an ear peeking out from beside the chair behind Little Winchester, Annan lowered his voice. "I'd like to borrow some money. Fifty silver coins, or one Gold Narl..."

"You want to have your aptitude tested?"

"Not yet... I have a friend who needs help."

Little Winchester refused. Annan was disappointed, but he didn't try to guilt her into it. She might be wealthy, but she had no reason to help him.

They had only known each other for a little over a week.

Worry about Tasia left Annan in no mood to continue copying Law Breaks the Sky. He glanced at Little Winchester, who was hovering around Mr. Victor, then picked Mages to the Left, Warlocks to the Right from the list of books he had compiled a few days earlier.

The book introduced the differences between mages and Sorcerers with a light, humorous touch. As its opening page put it: [A mage's power is built upon wisdom. A Sorcerer's power is built upon dumb fucking luck! —Oga Petri]

Annan had seen that line the day he found the book. Its distinctive voice had prompted him to look for the author's other works, but he found none. When he later asked Victor, the old man told him that Oga Petri, a master mage, had died challenging a Dragonline Sorcerer.

He had lived—and died—by his convictions.

Annan hoped the book would take his mind off his worries for a while.

Annan turned to the first page:

[Someone holding a staff, wearing a magic robe, and discussing scholarship with an air of calm wisdom might not be a mage, but he certainly isn't a Sorcerer.]

[You see, becoming a mage requires following an extraordinarily rigorous sequence. First, you must learn how to think and understand how Magic Power forms. Then you must memorize magic, construct a spell model, and finally form the spell perfectly before releasing it.]

[Sorcerers? They are born with, or later acquire, a bloodline or power. They don't need to study spells like mages do. They only have to see a spell cast once. If it suits their bloodline or power, they can recreate it by thinking, "I reckon I know how this spell works!"]

[But don't despair and conclude that mages are inferior to Sorcerers. Sorcerers may be born spellcasters, but their bloodlines and powers limit them.

[So you can easily tell a mage from a Sorcerer: if someone dresses luxuriously but with restraint and always seems wise and composed, he's a mage. Sorcerers are like nobles. They spend money like water, chase beautiful women—even females of other species—and are usually quite charming.]

Oga Petri had clearly understood Sorcerers very well, though he had overestimated himself and paid the price.

Annan did manage to set aside his worries and lose himself in the book.

That evening, Little Winchester escorted Mr. Victor out of the Library. Annan checked the doors and windows, locked up, and hurried straight to the Dawn Tavern.

Unlike the quiet opening hours of previous evenings, seven or eight customers were already waiting at the tables—and they were no longer all men.

Some had come for Law Breaks the Sky, others for Faster.

Annan ate the dinner Martin had brought from Aunt Susan in the back kitchen, put on his apron, and returned to the main room.

"In his daze, Sean suddenly felt something soft against his lips. A wet tongue slipped into his mouth for no apparent reason..."

For the thirty-eighth time, the bard told the story of Sean and Cici in the cave in the Monster Mountains.

They really did love that part.

As the evening went on, the tavern grew livelier and livelier.

Annan said it was finally starting to feel like a tavern. The bard asked what kind of tavern served nothing but drinks.

A proper tavern needed guest rooms upstairs, women drawing in customers, whispered exchanges of information in the corners, and the occasional brawl.

Faster, however, wasn't very happy.

The novelty of the first day had worn off, and the enthusiastic women were becoming more than he could handle.

So he came up with an idea of his own: Annan could dress up to attract customers, too. Before Annan could refuse, Faster added, "You get half the profit from any drinks you sell."

Annan wanted to refuse outright, but he really needed the money...

Faster had even prepared an outfit: extravagant, ostentatious noble's clothes. Once Annan put them on, they set off his black hair and made him look like a young aristocrat.

When the slightly shorter Annan stood beside the tall, powerfully built Mr. Fast, the women shrieked.

Annan had an even greater effect than Faster—Evelyn was already too embarrassed to look at him.

Aunt Susan's friends and the other women who came after hearing the news were even less able to resist Annan's portrayal of a handsome young nobleman with fair, delicate skin—

Annan was like a lone boat in a storm, struggling to withstand the waves.

After fending them off with exhausting effort, the tavern closed. Annan stayed a while longer to help Evelyn tally the day's takings: nearly ten silver coins.

Almost three times the usual amount.

That gave Annan the motivation to keep going. He even designed a pair of rabbit ears for Evelyn's headband.

When the tavern closed on the third day, Annan received his wages for the week: seven silver coins.

"Mr. Fast..."

Martin was wearing Evelyn's rabbit ears, stretching the headband out of shape. "Can I join in...?"

Faster refused, saying Martin would scare away the customers, but gave him ten copper coins as a bonus anyway.

Back at Aunt Susan's house, Annan opened his money box. Twenty silver coins clinked pleasantly inside.

It wouldn't be long before he had saved seventy silver coins.

The Library was closed the next day, so Annan planned to tell Tasia the good news.

At dawn, Annan arrived at the camp by the Haunted Gold Mine and saw Tasia limping toward him.