Amberglen

It had been a few weeks since he had been staying with Idris. She was kind enough to let him stay with her until he knew what he wanted to do. She had already offered him to live with her, after all, he had no one in this world and having a home was better than living on the streets. Especially when you were in an unknown world.

His wounds had already completely healed and his pain was barely noticeable.

He got dressed and carefully went down the creaky stairs that led to the living room and the open kitchen.

The scent of fresh food greeted him as he entered the kitchen.

Idris was standing at the stove, busily stirring some vegetables. A simple stew was simmering in a pot, and next to it was freshly baked bread that she had probably just taken out of the oven. When Soren entered, she turned around and smiled.

'Good morning, Soren,' she said, while continuing to stir. 'Sit down, breakfast will be ready in a minute.'

Soren nodded and sat down on one of the wooden chairs at the table.

The house wasn't big or fancy, but it was better than sleeping out in the cold, unprotected and alone, and for that he was grateful.

"Thank you," he murmured as he sat down. "It smells good."

Idris placed two bowls of stew on the table in front of them, along with the fresh bread. ''You need to get your strength back,'' she said as she sat down. ''We have a long day ahead of us today.''

Soren raised an eyebrow and looked at her curiously. ''What do you mean?''

''We have to go to the city,'' Idris explained calmly, taking a bite of her bread. ''There are some things I have to do there. Besides, it's time you learned how old you are.''

When Idris told him about the world and the magic in it, she also told him that when one turned fifteen, everyone could take part in the Grimoire Acceptance Ceremony, where one would then receive one's Grimoire.

For many people, this was a defining moment in their lives, as the Grimoire shows one's magical path and their potential, among other things.

Soren listened carefully, but when Idris mentioned the age requirement, he suddenly realised that he didn't know how old he was. He knew how old he was in his old body, but he didn't know how old this body was.

Idris then told him that she had a friend who could solve the problem for him. This wizard lives in the next city over.

After Soren and Idris had finished their breakfast, they got up to prepare to leave. Idris took a small bag filled with coins, judging by the rustling. They both put on a cloak to protect themselves from the rising wind and the weather.

''Ready?'' Idris asked.

''Absolutely.'' Soren nodded and followed her.

But when he saw what they would be travelling to the city on, he stared at her in disbelief.

''What?'' she questioned, proudly presenting her broomstick.

''You fly on broomsticks?'' he objected incredulously.

''Of course! That's how we wizards get around. Unless you're a spatial wizard, it's the fastest way to travel around town.''

''And that's safe?''

''You killed a fire lion before you even got your grimoire, and now you're afraid of flying?'' she asked sceptically.

''No, it's not that,'' he clarified. ''The whole concept of flying on a broom is just so alien. I mean, surely you could develop a better method with magic, couldn't you?''

''Don't be like that,'' she said, taking the broom between her legs and tapping behind her. ''I've never seen anyone have an accident with their brooms,'' she reassured him.

Soren still stared sceptically at the broom. ''I doubt that,'' he murmured, but he tried his luck and sat down carefully behind Idris. To his surprise, he found that it was much more comfortable than he had expected.

''There you are,'' Idris exclaimed triumphantly. ''More comfortable than it looks, isn't it?"

''Yes, I suppose so,'' Soren admitted, holding on tight. ''I thought it would be like... well, like sitting on a stick.''

Idris laughed softly. ''We wizards aren't crazy. Okay, maybe a little, but not in this way.'' As they both lifted off the ground, they took off and flew.

The wind blew gently in their faces as they flew towards the city. From here, Soren could see the walls and towers in the distance.

''Down there,'' Idris commented, pointing to the city, which was getting closer and closer. ''That's the city we're going to. It's not the capital, but it's big enough to have everything we need.''

Soren felt the broom lose height as the city walls came closer and closer. The wind that had been blowing through his hair just a moment ago died down as they gently glided down. Idris skilfully steered the broom and soon they landed in an open space near the city wall.

''Well, welcome to Silverveil,'' Idris said as she stepped off the broom.

Soren nodded slowly, barely hiding his curiosity as he let his gaze wander over the walls and the wizards in robes. It wasn't his first time seeing a medieval city or castle, but it was certainly his first time seeing one that was so full of life.

"Come, Soren, we have a lot to do," Idris said, leading him through the gate into the city.

''What do we need?'' he inquired, trying not to get lost in the hustle and bustle.

He hadn't even known until this morning that they were going the city, let alone what they had to do except meeting one of her old friends.

''Some herbs that I can't find around here. Then I need a few ingredients for cakes and other things that I like to cook and bake. We also need new clothes for you. Your current ones don't fit you anymore and are way too dirty, even after I tried to wash them as well as I could. And finally, we'll visit an old friend of mine," Idris listed while going over the shopping list in her mind.

'She's probably right,' he thought, while he examined the worn and torn clothes he had been wearing since the day he had come here. Despite Idris' efforts to get them clean, they were still too long and dirty, and the tears made him look anything but well-groomed.

His appearance had already drawn some looks from the city's residents that were anything but friendly

He was not surprised.

Not to mention that this world was still deeply rooted in feudalism, where kings and nobles ruled and commoners—especially those who were not noble or did not possess strong magic—were often seen as people of lesser value.

Soren and Idris continued to stroll through the lively streets of Silverveil, with Idris headed purposefully toward a shop specialising in clothing. People's stares bounced off them, and Soren tried hard to ignore them as they walked along the smaller, less-travelled lanes.

"Ah, here it is," Idris noted, going inside.

The shop they entered was a small tailor's, not on the main street and relatively little visited, it seemed.

"Ah, Idris! It's been a long time. What can I do for you today?" An older, raspy voice came from behind the counter.

"We need new clothes for him," Idris replied, pointing at Soren."As you can see, his current ones are not exactly wearable."

The old man looked Soren up and down. ''Hmm,'' he grumbled thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. ''What's your name, boy? I'm Oskar. It's always nice to meet friends and acquaintances of dear Idris.''

"Soren," he answered.

"Ah, Soren! A fitting name indeed." He smiled, stroking his white beard.

''Why's that?'' Soren asked as the man strode around him.

''Ah, sorry,'' Oskar replied, raising his hands. ''I always forget that most people don't know about my magic. With my sewing thread magic, I can not only make the appropriate clothes for my customers, but I can even adapt them perfectly to their aura. In your case, I feel a bright, incredibly strong yellow aura. A warm, radiant energy. You have beautiful magic there, young Soren," Oskar praised him with a beaming smile.

A grimoire that glowed green floated at Oskar's chest height and the pages began to move by themselves until they stopped on a certain page.

"Sewing thread magic: Perfect cut."

Fine, shimmering threads shot out of Oskar's hands, wrapped themselves around Soren and began to change his clothes, creating something new.

After a short time, the Grimoire closed and Soren had completely new clothes that cast him in a different light.

Where there had been tattered brown clothes before, there was now a dark blue tunic with silver seams and golden threads. He wore black trousers with sturdy leather boots.

''Thank you, Oskar. You have amazing magic too.''

''Isn't it?'' Idris agreed.

''No, no, I am the one who should thank you, young Soren, for having such a wonderful customer,'' Oskar thanked him with tears in his eyes.

''Are you okay?'' Soren asked, worried when he saw the tears.

''Hush, hush, now. You shouldn't see an old man like me like that,'' he said, and pushed them out before closing the door behind them.

Soren looked at Idris, confused. ''Is he always like that?''

Idris just laughed into her fist. ''He can be a bit melodramatic, but he's a good person and makes good clothes. That's all that matters.''

Soren just nodded as they continued their shopping trip.

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Yay, shopping.

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