Role

Chapter 3

(Spring 1625)

I got to thinking about how hard I'd worked and how much I'd sacrificed to get
as far as I was, and tried to work up the courage to cyclone a rat. I was so
mortified by the very thought that my stomach kept heaving long after it had
gone empty. Eventually I managed to get all the way through casting the spell.
A flurry of winds tore the rat into a mist of fur and blood. Just when I
thought I couldn't throw up any more, that sight had me right back at it.

(Spring 1625)

It gets easier. By the tenth rat I could keep from vomiting. By the hundredth
rat I didn't even feel sick. I lost count after a thousand and now I feel
nothing. I am focused solely on the mastery of my craft. If these rats must
die so that my art can flourish, so be it.

(Summer 1625)

At last, I have a greater insight into wind magic. I've never felt so alive.
There's definitely something to this violence method. I'm learning to control
the heat in my hands much faster now that I'm trying to burn and freeze fish
with them. I hate to write it, but as disgusting as the necromancers are,
maybe they're on to something. Maybe only death can pay the price for true
power. At least the deaths of these mindless creatures suffice.

(Autumn 1625)

I stopped back into town for supplies. I fear that every stranger plans to wear
my scalp as a grim trophy. I heard that last week a storm giant broke into the
conjurer's guild and killed everyone inside. What a crazy world we live in.
I'll be safer back in the mountains for now. Anyway, I think spending so much
time in them is giving me a stronger grasp of earth.

The leatherworker's daughter bloomed considerably since I was here last. She's
looking really good. Maybe things will feel safer when I get back and I can
ask her to dinner. I'll just study this earthquake magic quickly and come back.