The gates creaked open, revealing the mansion. Its walls were cracked, paint faded, weeds pushing through broken stone. Dust coated the pillars and windows. The place was abandoned.
The guards shoved the slaves forward, chains rattling as they crossed into the courtyard. Orders barked out immediately—some were dragged toward the stables, others handed buckets and rags to scrub the floors and walls. Shane's group was pushed to the outer courtyard with brushes. "Scrape moss from the stone, the master wants everything in perfect shape before the auction begins," one of the guards ordered.
He bent low, wrists aching from the iron, and worked with the others. Dust rose into the air, sticking to his throat. While he worked, he kept his ears open, hoping to gain any information he could, and thankfully, the guards weren't quiet.
"Master only bought this wreck last week," one muttered, kicking a loose stone across the yard. "Doesn't matter how it looks, just needs to be standing when the buyers come."
"Two days," another said. "I heard he brought this mansion to house the esteemed guest of the auction, but I don't get it, most people would have already rented out the various inns around Duskmor"
"Don't even try to understand the thoughts of those wealthier people, you would just give yourself unnecessary headache, but what I heard was that the master brought this building as a new type of inn, he wants it to be the best inn within and around Duskmor even the entire country" another guard added.
Such a conversation between the guards played out around Shane, who kept his head down, brushing harder so he wouldn't draw attention.
The hours dragged. Scrubbing, hauling, shifting broken furniture. His hands burned, sweat running into his eyes. But every scrap of talk he caught mattered more than the work.
"…heard the City Lord himself is attending. Wants first pick before the guild does."
"…Adventurers from the upper tiers are already making bids. Market's busier than I've seen in a year."
"… I heard there would be a private display of some goods tomorrow to some high bidders before the main auction."
That last piece of information was the most important to Shane, if he could he would have asked where the private meeting was going to take place from the guards but he wasn't stupid enough to try that, 'If the Xeric man wants to show his goods to the top bidders before the event, no doubt Plavenin would be among the goods, like he said she might be one of his prime goods, and he would want to spread rumors about her existence' Shane straightened to stretch his back, when a guard noticed and slammed a spear butt against his ribs. "No resting, trash."
Shane sucked in a breath, forced himself back down, and gripped the brush. 'Two days, I thought that's was all I had, but if I could find out the location of this private meeting, I might be able to get to her' but even with this new information, Shane still had no idea how to get to her, because this private meeting was bound to be heavy guarded and he was just one man without talent, their was no way in hell he would be able to do so, then an idea popped into his head 'Unless i can create a distraction that would focus everyone's attention somewhere else' even while scrubbing Shane's mind began trying to formulate a plan.
The sound of boots and heavy tools echoed through the courtyard. Shane glanced up as another group entered through the gates, led by an Xeric. This one was Shorter, stockier, and solidly built, and unlike the guards, these men carried tool satchels and rolled-up scrolls strapped across their backs. Their clothes were marked with dust and chalk.
"The Builders have arrived," one guard announced.
The master, a short man with a trimmed beard and a jeweled chain around his neck, strode at the front of the group. "Get the slaves moving faster," he snapped. "This mansion must be ready before the auction begins, and it must look as fine as the day it was first carved."
Shane dropped his head, scrubbing at the courtyard stone, but kept watching from the corner of his eye. The Builders fanned out across the mansion, placing their palms against the walls, tapping along the pillars, muttering to each other. One unrolled a scroll, looking through the scroll and back at the wall.
Then one pressed both palms flat against a cracked section of wall. His shoulders tensed, breath steadying. A faint light shimmered against his skin and the stone itself shifted. Dust lifted, cracks sealed, broken pieces drew back together until the wall looked whole.
Another raised a glowstone, guiding it along a shattered archway. The fragments quivered, lifted, and fused again with a sharp click.
Shane froze, brush in hand. Magic. He had seen a glimpse of magic before in the academy, but not like this. It's important to note that Shane only woke up in this world about a day or two ago.
As he worked, hauling out a broken stool toward a pile of discarded furniture, a Builder passed close by. He was younger than the others, not much older than Shane himself, with short brown hair and calloused hands. Sweat beaded on his brow as he set a glowing stone against a shattered archway, guiding the fragments back into shape.
Shane hesitated, then lowered his voice. "What kind of magic is that?"
The young man blinked, surprised that a slave had spoken. For a moment Shane thought he'd be ignored, or worse, beaten. But the Builder glanced around, saw no guard paying attention, and muttered back.
"It's called construction magic. Masonry, if you want the proper name. Earth mages channel it, but only for building. Just like it looks—it's used to restore stone, wood, metal, anything that makes a home stand." His voice was low from exhaustion "Not as flashy as fire or ice, but without it, half the city would've fallen by now."
"Masonry or Construction magic" Shane repeated under his breath, watching the stone knit itself together. "Sorry to bother you, when you said construction magic, does that mean there are other types of magic?" Shane asked,
The Builder Macel, gave a tired but straightforward look. "Other types? That's like asking if there are other types of rain. Of course there are." He gestured vaguely with his chin around the courtyard. "It's all about what you're born with and what you choose to do with it. Look, it's simple, really."
"First, you've got the Talent. That's the big one. Are you a Mage, with Magicka flowing in you? Or are you a Warrior, with Ira to strengthen your arm? That part, you don't choose. It chooses you. If I were to say, 40 percent of the world should have talents, and among those 40 percent, maybe 12 percent are Mages."
"Okay, I read something like that before," Shane said, scrubbing harder at a stubborn patch of moss to keep up the pretense. "And I know Mages are supposed to be rare but not that rare."
"Right. Now, being a Mage is just the start. That's your nature. But what kind of Mage? That's your Archetype. I'm an Elementalist, and my magic comes from the elements—earth, fire, water, air—but you can't master them all, nobody can. Your spirit leans one way, so you pick a Class."
Macel tapped the wall he was repairing. "My Class is Earth Mage. This stone, the earth itself, speaks to me, and I understand it. A Fire Mage? They feel the heat in their blood. They couldn't do what I'm doing now to save their life. Their mind doesn't work that way."
"So… an Earth Mage can only do earth stuff?" Shane asked, the hierarchy starting to click into place.
"Exactly. That's the rule. You work with the palette you're given. Now, what do you paint with that palette? That's the School." He gestured to his own work. "This is the School of Construction Magic. It's one way to use the Earth. But the old man over there?" He nodded toward an older Builder who was pressing his hands to the ground, sensing something beneath the soil. "He follows the School of Geomancy. He reads the lay of the land, finds weaknesses, and strengthens foundations. Different skills, same Class. We're both Earth Mages, but we've learned different schools."
Shane's mind raced, connecting the dots. "So a Fire Mage… they could have different schools too?"
"Sure. One might study Battle Pyromancy to throw fireballs. Another might learn Artisan Pyromancy to be a master blacksmith. Same fire, different use. But that Battle Pyromancer could never learn my Construction Magic, and I could never learn his fireballs. We're locked to our Class."
A guard strolled past, and both fell silent, pretending to be fully absorbed in their tasks. When the guard moved on, Macel spoke again, quickly.
"Then there are the strange ones… the ones who break the rules."
"Break the rules?"
"Aye. Like a Paladin. They're Warriors at heart, all Ira and muscle. But somehow, they've got a flicker of Magicka in them, too. Let's let them use a bit of holy light. Or an Enchanter—they're Mages who can weave their Magicka with a touch of Ira to make permanent runes. Rare, powerful stuff, just like the old Vitreom folks."
Macel finished his section of the archway with a final, whispered word. The stone settled with a solid *thump*.
"That's the way of it," he said, gathering his tools. "Talent. Archetype. Class. School. Everyone has their place, their lane. Best not to stray from it."
Using this opportunity Shane asked "What do you know about enchanters and the Vitreom race, I heard they were supposed to be an existing race of Xeric with vast knowledge about Enchanting"
The Macel glanced at him again. "Don't get the wrong idea, mages aren't loved here, or anywhere else. Too many turned rogue in the past. But the Magi Group?" He tapped the badge pinned to his chest, a small iron plate etched with a royal crest. "We're licensed and registered under the Royal Family. That makes us different from other rogue mage groups and people don't spit on us in the street."
Macel's words were sharp, but his tone carried the edge of someone who'd had to defend that truth too many times. Before Shane could press further, one of the older Builders barked, "Macel, stop wasting breath. Keep moving."
Macel straightened, gave Shane the briefest nod, then hurried back to his group.