Samuel cleared the table of it scattering of books, and sat himself at the head. He gestured lazily for Eric to sit across from him, and with another flourish, produced three heavy books. Once Eric had placed himself in the rickety chair, Samuel made the books float over to him. Their titles were faded slightly, but he had no trouble recognizing them. They were the three tomes that Samuel had written; Body, Mind, and Soul.

“I’ve already read these,” Eric said. It was perfectly true. The books had been interesting. They were about Samuel’s earlier life, his origin, and how he had come across his idea of the true nature of magic in Ahya. While much of the theory had gone over Eric’s head, he knew enough to know that it was a widely popular theory. Nearly every mage in the world acknowledged his opinion on how the schools of thought were split.

“You may have read the books that I published,” Samuel commented. With a flick of his finger, the first book flipped open. “But these are the true tomes of Body, Mind, and Soul.”

Eric glanced down at the first page of Tome of the Body, and saw that instead of walls of text, there were intricate diagrams, runic symbols, and scrawled notes on spellcasting. The second page bore a detailed diagram of the human body, with many lines of energy traveling from the core to the tips of the hands and feet. It reminded Samuel of the chakras, though this diagram featured mainly one source, rather than seven.

“It kind of looks like an Anatomy textbook,” he muttered softly, turning yet another page. “What do you mean by true tomes? Are the published books not the truth, then?”

“The published books are more my theories on the different magicks, and how I came to discover them,” Samuel corrected him. “They are very true, and accurate to what happened. But these tomes, made available to a select few only, are the actual collections of magic from each school of thought.”

Eric glanced up, feeling his jaw falling open. “You’re telling me this book contains all the physical magicks you’ve ever learned?”

Samuel nodded, smiling slightly at Eric’s consternation. “Indeed. I’ve had nearly six hundred years to record them, so there’s quite a bit.”

“But,” Eric hesitated, then he rifled through page after page quickly. Just like Samuel’s own notebook, this tome seemed endless. “How many are there?”

“A couple thousand,” Samuel said casually, examining his fingernails. “But that’s not why I’m showing them to you.”

“Then why are you?” Eric retorted, closing Tome of the Body and opening the next. This one was even more complex, and it hurt his brain to try and read those spells. He closed it with a snap. “I’m not a fan of using magic. I’d never be able to remember all those incantations and special gestures.”

“Magic is possible without speaking,” Samuel corrected him. “It is more difficult, but definitely possible. But I figured you were averse to magic. Still, it is worth your time to learn a little, even if you rarely use them.”

“Nah, I’m not a mage,” Eric insisted. “I’ll use my swords, nothing else.”

“And so we reach the reason you’re here,” Samuel said with a patient smile. “I know a little of magic in your world, Eric. I know how your world views the subject. But in Ahya, it is different. Everyone uses magic. Even you.”

“No I don’t,” Eric scoffed.

“What do you call the Hide skill you learned from Rajlen Korin, then?”

“That’s-”, Eric said, but then he hesitated. He’d never really thought about it, but the skill could count as magic, in it’s own way. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. But when I swing my sword, there’s no magic involved.”

“But there could be,” Samuel said. “And like it or not, you’ll learn those skills eventually. Particularly if Ehran has anything to say on the subject.”

“If he wants to teach me magic that helps me fight, I’m willing to learn it,” Eric said dubiously. “But I don’t think he will. He’s a martial type like me. Does he even use magic?”

“Oh, he uses quite a variety of physical magicks,” Samuel said, nodding vigorously. “I’ve seen him at his most ferocious in the war, and he’s a sight to behold. His father and grandfather taught him well.”

“Oh,” Eric said. He couldn’t think of any other response. “Sorry, I’ve always seen magic as something like, you know, wave a wand and say some fancy words.”

“As I said,” Samuel replied, leaning forward. “I’m aware of how your world views magic. But I think you could do some good with a new type of magic. But before we do that, I have to ask you. Are you willing to let me modify the body that I made for you?”

The question, oddly, didn’t sound all that odd to Eric. He’d learned right away that Samuel had made his body for him after pulling his mind to Ahya. He hadn’t given it any thought since then, but now, with this prospect facing him, he found that he didn’t mind it all that much. Hell, if it could give him an edge in the future, he’d gladly accept it. He rose to his feet, pushing the chair quietly back. “Sure. How long will it take?”

Immediately after Eric gave his assent, Samuel reached one hand out towards him, palm up, fingers spread. He could have been offering something across to him, save for the fact that his palm was empty. A thin line of energy connected from his hand to Eric, shining in the dim light. Then Samuel closed his hand around the line, and, as it thickened to the width of a rope, he gave a sharp tug. Glancing down, Eric gave a shout of shock.

His body had literally dissolved. It hung in the air around him, a glittering cloud of energy that was feeding back into the rope that Samuel held. The Archmage gave another tugh, pulling the rope towards himself and coiling it up. Then it was smushed into a shapeless mass, and Samuel went to work. He pulled a shining quill out of nowhere, and, brandishing it with incredible speed, began to etch an outline in mid-air. It took him a few minutes, but the image was clearly a humanoid form.

“That’s the first part,” Samuel said, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “That’s basically what you just had. Now for the improvement.”

He gave a wave with his free hand, and the body solidified. Eric drifted over, keenly aware of the odd sensation of staring at his own body, separated from himself. Samuel was etching arcane markings along the body’s spine, forearms, and chest. Each line he etched glowed brightly with condensed energy, and it wasn’t long before the mage was breathing heavily.

“There,” Samuel said, panting as he stepped back. He eyed the finished product with a satisfied grin. “You can step into it now. Hininga.”

He spoke the strange word just as Eric reached out to touch the body, and Eric felt himself pulled into it in an instant. Then he opened his eyes, looked down at his new and improved form, and flexed his fingers. He didn’t feel any different. The new body came with a new outfit, of much higher quality, but apart from that, nothing else seemed to have changed. Then the runes came to life along his body, and he felt a jolt of power flush through his system. Looking back up at Samuel, he noticed a new window of text appear.

Curious, he pressed the Yes button. The window disappeared, replaced by another.

Eric let out a low whistle at the sheer amount of options. Glancing at Samuel, he wondered how much of this was planned. “Did you mean for me to be able to mimic other races?”

The Archmage nodded. “It occurred to me that as an Outworlder, you might be lacking in options. So if I give you this option, you have variety to make up for it.”

Eric scanned the list again. There were a few great choices there, and some that seemed utterly useless to him. The Marked One race stood out for a moment, and he finally figured out that was how Korin had assumed Emma’s appearance. That was annoying. He had no need for the Dwarf’s ability, but maybe the Halfling could be useful. He chewed his lip and read through the list again. He selected the Human race, and confirmed.

“That’s neat,” He muttered as the window disappeared. He looked up at Samuel again. “Thanks. That’ll come in handy.”

Samuel nodded, then pulled the three tomes to him with a gesture. They disappeared into thin air just as everything else he owned did, and he offered Eric a tired smile. Evidently the crafting of a brand-new body for him had cost a great deal, for he looked a little weak in the legs. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, and gestured towards the exit, back into Raven’s Hall.

“Shall we head back, then?”

“Oh,” Eric answered. “That’s all there is?”

“I’ll undoubtedly have more to teach you in the future,” Samuel assured him. “But for now, that’s enough. No sense in teaching you things you can’t use.”

“Fair enough.” Eric adjusted his new tunic, and led the way out.

They crossed through the door and back into Raven’s Hall just in time to see that the steward had returned. The man was crouched slightly, his head turned to the side, as if he’d been listening at the keyhole of the magic door while they talked. He jumped to attention as Eric appeared centimeters from him, and bobbed his head.

“Welcome back, Master Breeden,” he said, with the air of someone who knows he’s been caught misbehaving. “Supper is ready now. Lady Ciayol is already in the dining room. Shall I lead you?”

Eric turned from the nervous man to say goodnight to Samuel, who was glowering once more. Apparently, the Archmage hadn’t expected to find the steward overhearing their conversation. Was such a thing possible when it came to extradimensional space? Eric had no idea, but the expression on Samuel’s said it was. Samuel seemed to notice his curiosity, and his face quickly shifted back into it’s normal carefree expression.

“Good night, young Eric,” he said with a casual grin. “Come visit me when you want to learn more.”

Eric waved him through the large double doors, then turned to face the steward. “Lead the way.”

Obviously glad that he had clear instructions at last, the steward tucked his hands into the wide sleeves of his outer robe and led Eric to the dining room. It was large, with a massive table that could easily seat a dozen people. Only three places were set tonight, however, for Eric, Emma, and the steward. Eric couldn’t help but notice that the head position was reserved for him, and Emma was to his left. He knew that the right-hand position was more important. Half as a way of scolding the steward, and half because he liked imagining Samuel’s reaction to such a thing, he pointed the steward to where Emma sat.

“You sit there. Emma, you look beautiful as always. Let’s eat.”