I removed my backpack and set it on the ground beside a wide table that was clear of any tools or materials. “As a part of my preparations for trials, I found myself in a strange hallway filled with artwork at the museum that I had never noticed before.”

  “The Gallery?” He asked, his eyes widening even more than they had at my surprise arrival.

  “I believe so, yes. I encountered something unusual while I was there.”

  He nodded. “You entered a landscape, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, master.” I began pulling out the dire wolves' hides and placing them on his tabletop. “And along the way, I was set upon by three dire wolves. This is what remains of them.”

  I expected another loud bellow of laughter, which would have been in line with his personality, but instead, he was all business and began inspecting the hides with the eye of a master armorer.

  “Did you defeat all these by yourself?”

  I thought about the gnome who had mentored me, but gave a truthful answer in the spirit of his question. “I defeated these myself. They had been stalking a young shepherd boy, and I changed their plans.”

  “I did not know you had hide work, tanning, or skinning skills.”

  “I do not. Others helped with that work.”

  He grunted as he noted some burn marks on the hide. “Mage Blast spell?”

  I nodded. “Yes, master. I used spells and a nonmagical wooden staff to defeat them. It was a close thing.”

  “I bet. A single dire wolf could be a match for an apprentice. Three would be a match for many journeymen as well.”

  I let him inspect the hides for a bit longer. As he did so, he made a few observations, pointing out where the skinning work had been shoddy or where the natural tanning oils had been especially effective in preserving the creatures’ natural magic.

  Like professors, mage masters were fond of talking. When they were engaged in their specialty areas, everyone around them benefited from their teaching if they had the patience and thick skin to listen. Master Habberjaz was harsh in his criticisms but just as strong in his praise.

  “Okay, Gwydion. You have my interest and attention. What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, master, I am about to go on journey, and one of my best friends, a brawler, will accompany me. I had hoped to have a set of armor made for him since-”

  “Brawlers don’t like bulky armor as a rule.” Master Habberjaz finished my thought.

  “Yes, master.”

  “There is enough hide here for perhaps four suits of leather armor, even for the broad-chested brawlers. What would you like to do with the remaining armor?” He had a twinkle in his eye, already guessing at my proposal.

  “I would give the rest of the hides as a price for the commission.”

  “Hmm. Dire Wolf is rare but not especially magical in its protection. But it is unnaturally thick and sought after by warriors.” He scrutinized me for several seconds and said, “I will accept your proposal if you agree to assist me in making the armor for your friend. I’ll even add a bonus protection charm to sweeten the deal.”

  “Done!” I said with excitement.

  He stuck out his hand, and we shook.

  His face turned serious, and he barked, “Apprentice, roll up those sleeves and prepare to sweat.”

  “Yes, master!”

  And I did sweat. I bled a bit, too, as the sharp leatherworking awls occasionally took me by surprise in my thumb or palm as we created the leather hems and thick corded thread that bound the armor together. It took us three hours, but we crafted a set of armor that Biff would be proud of. Master Habberjaz learned of my ability to enchant weapons with hardness and sharpness spells. He told me that similar defensive spells existed for armor and shields, along with a range of specialty spells for each.

  He was surprised at my ability to create five sockets and decided it was worth a try with the armor.

  “Understand that armor, like weapons, must be made of the finest materials to take and hold enchantments or sockets. The ability to add five sockets is unusual for someone of your age and experience, and is not something that a typical animal hide would ever hold. But I have charms that will take the natural magic of this creature and augment it, and I believe that it should hold.”

  “What happens if it does not hold, master?”

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  “Then your commission ends with the destruction of this armor. I take the remaining hides, and you walk away with only some new knowledge and wisdom.”

  I thought about it. I wasn’t sure if this was a trust exercise or a prudence exercise, or if there was an element of chance that the armor could be destroyed. If it worked, however, giving Biff five gems in his armor could be the difference between life and death. If I needed to buy armor for him as a gift, I could still afford to do that.

  “I accept the risk, Master Habberjaz. I am confident in our work.”

  He nodded his head. “Then allow me to add the base enchantment, and you can add sockets after that. The armor will have a greater Hardness and a Durability effect. It will serve him well if your spell takes hold.”

  The enchanter cast his spells flawlessly and stepped aside so that I could do my work. I recalled the lessons I learned during orientation and cast the necessary spells.

  Master Habberjaz had insisted on five large, tarnished silver buttons to secure the armor like a large jacket. It matched some tarnished silver rivets used to bind overlapping layers and gave the dark hide armor a rustic appearance.

  I wondered where the sockets might end up, but I hoped there would be one per button. I cast the spell, and with a little yellow flash, each button held a socket. I let out a deep sigh of relief.

  “Well done, lad!” He cheered and slapped me on the back.

  There was applause from people around us whom I had not even realized had been watching. I was pretty sure I blushed from neck to ears.

  I laughed to cover my excitement, embarrassment, and relief. “I hope it fits him.”

  Master Habberjaz gave me a frown. “Apprentice, the armor is magic. It will fit him just as well as your rings would change to fit the fingers that wore them.”

  If anything, my blush had to have increased. “Sorry, master. I should have known that.”

  He gathered the other hides and placed them in a satchel that looked more elegant than my backpack. It must have served a similar purpose because the large hides slipped into it without bunching up.

  “You were an excellent apprentice and an apt student. Keep in mind my offer for advanced classes. I believe you would do well.”

  I bowed. “Thank you, Master Habberjaz.”

  He patted my shoulder and walked off, talking with some of the crowd he seemed to know well as he departed.

  The AL whispered into my ear. Enchanter Gwydion earns a crafting skill point in armorer and the title Journeyman. You also earn a subspecialty in Leatherworker/Tanner as an Adept. Additions and notes have been added to your Book of Quests that remain unread.

  “Sweet!” I said out loud. I had two points in armorer, but this bumped me one level higher and refined that skill a bit more, allowing me to work with both leather and metal. I wouldn’t be making any magical items with this low skill, but it gets me one step closer to working on them in the future. Before advancing in armorer any further, I would need to earn specialty points first. It was a complex system, but it was very cool in its own right. The first point is the hardest to come by, and I now have two armorers' specialty tracks.

  I spent the rest of the day in final preparations and spellwork. The past thirty days went by in a blur, but I used them to good effect. I was as ready as I would be for the start of my adventures tomorrow, yet there were still a couple of strings that needed tying off, as Master Haberjaz would have said with a laugh.

  And so by that evening, seven of us sat around a large round table at the Double Dragon Inn and Tavern for a supper I was hosting before we departed to tackle the three Alchemist quests.

  Our table was one of the larger ones, and it was in the back by the section taken over around this time each night by game enthusiasts. A pair of older sages huddled over a set of tiles playing a game of Sevens. They seemed pretty intent, which suggested it might be for serious stakes. The game of Sevens was one of three honor games that mages sometimes employed when a conflict had arisen between them, demanding justice but not at a level where a magical duel was called for.

  The game of Sevens was basically a game of dominoes with tiles going up to double sevens rather than double sixes. I enjoyed the game and played it many times with other apprentices for practice, fun, or some stakes, which usually involved humiliating ourselves if we lost.

  Besides the two sages, the room was occupied by enthusiastic members of the university’s All Night Club. They could play role-playing games, 3D chess, cards, tiles, and a wide range of board games. Tonight’s game of choice was Conjure Snap!. The game used mild conjuring magic on a deck of collectible hand-painted cards, creating small, life-like creatures that battled each other. I had seen the game but never played it. The creatures were harmless to the players but deadly to one another. My father never allowed me to play it when I was younger because of rogue games, allegedly cursed and fatal. Of course, that rumor made the game even more popular, but it tended to push it underground, and kids played it away from adults.

  The All Night Club members were not kids but college students who were game enthusiasts. The game was lively tonight, and there was a lot of noise around us. The roguish nature of the Double Dragon lured the college students away from campus, and the fish and chips were some of the best in the city.

  As we settled in at our table, I saw a young man with glasses at a lone table snap his fingers, and a hairy creature, perhaps three times larger than the typical tiny conjurations of the game, leaped off his table, ran over, and started gnawing away at the leg of another boy’s chair. In seconds, the chair collapsed on top of the beaver-rabbit-looking creature, and the boy fell over with a surprised shout. The conjured creature vanished when it was crushed beneath the chair, and the boy sprawled upon the floor, yelling at the lone boy at the back of the room, “Keeper, you’ll have to pay for that if I get in trouble!”

  The young man, who must have been Keeper, just smiled to himself, saw that I was staring at him, and lifted his mug of draft root beer high to me in salute.

  An area of specialty for one of the sages must have been conjuration because, with a wave of his hand, he had restored the chair at the table where the waitress scolded the college students for the prank. He went back to his game immediately thereafter.

  As the meal started, I lost track of the keeper. A couple of the wait staff brought us trays loaded with appetizers, and there was a lot of good-natured teasing among my friends. Bido showed us some of his mirror magic and two special compacts with replaceable metal mirrors, which he explained were much like wands but with a bit more versatility.

  The jab at wands, unintentional as it had been, put him a little at odds with Wilma and Adriana. When the topic of elemental magic arose, Adriana insisted that orange was the actual color of fire and red was the color of blood, but Bido explained that while that was true for her guild, it was not the case with his own. For his guild, orange symbolized far different magic, such as strong emotions. While there was indeed an aspect of energy imparted with the color orange, it dealt more with positivity, motivation, and rallying people than setting objects on fire.

  In a break between their lively back-and-forth as our soups arrived, Bido whispered to me, “Are you okay? I sensed that you were in danger earlier.”

  I thought about that and decided it had to have been when I was at the pond.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll get into what happened in a few minutes. Although I had better get us started since time will be limited tonight.”

  And so I began a discussion about our objectives. They still had no idea what I hoped to do, so I laid it all out just as I had rehearsed it. I had just finished explaining the three alchemist quests to everyone as our main courses were being served. This followed a round of joking about enchanters as pretender mages…the arrival of our stew… and arguments about whether martial combat or magical combat was more effective…followed by bread and cheeses. When I finally got a deep discussion underway, they listened attentively, and my brawler buddy Biff was the first to respond as I explained the third of the three quests.

  “Are you nuts?”

  It was not the reaction I had been hoping for…