The Mage's Burden

Chapter Six: Broken Family

"What's up old man?"

Lothar couldn't help but stiffen up a bit at the sound of Roka's voice. He, however, forced himself to relax once more, consciously pushing down the fear that gripped him any time he was in the young man's presence. As the boy took a seat across the table from him on the deck of the airship, Lothar only spared him a glance before turning his gaze back to his task. Watching the boy's family. This was the first time they had ever left their little village in the remote regions of Eldaria. Whenever Roka himself was indisposed, either due to training or having to rest, Lothar was to stay close by and protect them from any kind of trouble.

The first few days of travel, the women had been tense and withdrawn, barely leaving Lothar's side when Roka wasn't there. The more they traveled, however, the more they lost themselves to the wonder and beauty of their realm. They had come across many sights and marvels in the course of their travels. From the plains of Mindra to the mountains of Kadar and everything in between. The discovery of just how large their world was had shocked both mother and daughter to their core.

Most Airships were just barebones transport vessels with the minimum amount of comfort that would allow people to get from one point to the other. This was actually a good thing as most wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise. But for the few for whom money wasn't an object, there were airships like the one they were currently on. It was just as large as those other airships, hosted only about a quarter the number that other airships did, and cost about ten times as much. In exchange for the steep cost, however, there was a greater level of luxury on these airships. From exquisite dining to mana-rich rooms where one can meditate in the course of their travels, to even having dedicated servants at your beck and call should you so require.

When Lothar had learned that they were about to be on the run, he'd expected and mentally prepared himself for hard living even as they tried to lose their tail. As it turns out, however, he'd severely underestimated the amount of wealth that the healer carried around with her. Lothar had yet to figure out where she hid her storage device, but every time they needed to move from one place to the next she'd produce a bag of gold coins and pay for whatever expenses they needed to deal with before they were once again on the move. What was even more shocking was the fact that she seemed to have gold in almost every major currency. The copper, silver, gold, platinum, and mythril currency system was basically universal across most human kingdoms and empires. Different regions, however, minted their coins differently, creating local currencies in different regions. With very few exceptions, however, the healer would almost always produce gold coins in the local currency, wherever they happened to be. As such, they had been traveling in luxury for the past six months

Lothar had felt like he had gotten a new lease on life when the healer had agreed to help him. There hadn't even been a moment of hesitation in him when presented with a tier-seven contract that would require him to serve the healer as his master for the next one thousand cycles. In exchange, he would not only be fully restored, but the healer would do all she could to help him become a high-tier mage. There was no promise in the contract that he'd achieve this lofty goal, but just the offer itself was more than Lothar could have ever hoped for. What was a thousand cycles if he could avoid the fate of being eternally mediocre? What was servitude, if in exchange for it, he got the power to pay back all those that had wronged him? What was a thousand cycles if he could achieve the vaunted status of a seventh-tier mage? As far as he was concerned, he was the one that got the better end of this deal.

At least, that's what he thought at first.

Lothar was left unsure how to feel when soon thereafter, he learned that the healer wasn't actually trying to hide the fact that she was a seventh-tier mage. Instead, her mana pathways were so badly damaged that she could only exhibit the power of a third-tier mage. And worse still, only for a few short minutes, past which she'd have to take a break, lest she over-exert herself and do even further damage to her already fragile mana flow system. He had essentially tied himself to a high-tier mage that was only one in name.

Lothar wasn't stupid enough to underestimate the healer. Just because she was weakened, didn't mean that she didn't have the mind of a seventh-tier mage. Her knowledge and understanding of magic was something that he wouldn't be able to get anywhere else unless he somehow lucked out and got another seventh-tier master. That being said, the magic world was one where strength carried the day. As much knowledge as the healer had, if they were faced with a more powerful opponent, they'd either have to lower their heads or flee as they were currently doing. Worse yet, it wasn't just that she was weak, as Lothar would later come to find out, she planned on dissolving her mana pathways and starting over from the beginning. If not for the fact that she had gotten him to sign a tier-seven mana contract in which he was promised healing, Lothar would have begun to doubt if he was even going to be healed.

The weakness of his master, while troubling, turned out to only be the lesser of the problems he was unwittingly getting himself into when he signed on to serve her for the next thousand cycles. The healer, as it turns out, was a former member of the Draknar alliance. A force so powerful that few in the world of magic hadn't heard of it. She didn't go into details, but what little she'd divulged made it clear that she had been betrayed by two high-tier members of the alliance. The healer was licking her wounds all the while planning her revenge on those who had hurt her. And while Lothar could empathize with the desire for retribution on those that hurt you, he had been dragged into an attempt to take vengeance on seventh-tier mages, figures that could end him just by spitting in his direction!

Lothar didn't consider himself a treacherous person, but the moment he'd learned this, he'd begun to think of ways he could get out of the contract he'd signed. It wasn't out of any malice or ingratitude to the healer for her promise to help him. Rather, it was simple self-preservation. Lothar could stand the idea of serving the healer for a thousand cycles only because there was the promise of freedom on the other end. Fond as he might grow of her in that time, he wasn't a martyr. If he was expected to serve a thousand cycles only to end in a suicidal attack against one of the behemoths of the magic world, then the tenor of the contract changed. Rather than an equal exchange, he was being made into a death slave.

But then, just as Lothar was debating within himself whether to wait till he was powerful or to just bolt immediately after he was healed, the boy revealed the power residing within him.

Even now, several months later, Lothar couldn't keep his body from shaking whenever he remembered the power that Roka had displayed. An ant! That's what he was in the face of this power, and it wasn't just because of his tier. The moment that power washed over him, Lothar had known without a shadow of a doubt that he could have been a ninth-tier mage and still it wouldn't have made even a bit of difference.