Book 3, Chapter 4

In my first life, I’d never celebrated my birthday. As a child, I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. Once I’d grown older, it had just seemed like a waste of time. There was nothing there to celebrate. And then, finally, by the time I’d come fully into my power as an archmage, friends were few and far between. It wasn’t unusual to go decades without seeing casual acquaintances, and those few real friendships I’d developed inevitably ended with the other person dying.

My reincarnation as Gravin had given me a different perspective on the concepts of family and friendship. They weren’t complicated, but to me, they were foreign. Family was something I’d never had and couldn’t afford back then, but it was different now.

Birthdays were, honestly, just an excuse to celebrate, to shower someone with love and make them feel special. The truth of it was that I would have gotten on just fine without my own turn, but I’d found I quite enjoyed celebrating other people’s birthdays, so it’d be shameful to deny them their own chance to celebrate mine.

Also, I was quite curious what was under that sheet. The temptation to scry it was almost overwhelming, counterbalanced only by the amusement I got from teasing Senica over the whole thing. Eventually, we ran out of excuses and Mother led us over to the table set up against the back wall of the room.

“Normally, I’d be talking about how my beautiful little boy is growing up, taking his first steps into adulthood and learning to be responsible,” Mother said. She paused and gave me a rueful smile. “But anyone who knows Gravin knows how ridiculous it would be to say that. All you have to do is look around us to see the fruits of his work. He’s done more to lift us up than anyone else ever could. So, instead, let me just say thank you, son, for all your tireless work keeping us safe, fed, and comfortable. I truly couldn’t have ever imagined my life now back before you were born.”

Fortunately, I wasn’t required to do anything but smile in response to the scattered applause, and Father quickly stepped in. “Come on, time for the reveal,” he said, elbowing Mother aside. “I know what we’re all here for.”

I wasn’t sure how widespread the tradition was in this new world, but locally, the way these events were done was that guests presented their gifts to the birthday child’s parents individually. Nobody but Mother—and supposedly Father, but I suspected he might be just as clueless as the rest of us—actually knew what all was sitting on that table, so the reveal was a bit of a group thing. The sheet would be folded back one section at a time to give the gift-giver a chance to say a few words.

It was silly, but it was an excuse to have a conversation with people I didn’t necessarily see every day, or even every week. The structure of the whole thing wasn’t to my tastes, but I smiled and played along as the whole group demanded Mother get on with things.

Whatever else she might have planned to say, Mother knew better than to stand against the gathered party-goers. “Here we go,” she said.

With a deft flip, she folded the sheet back to reveal several sets of clothes neatly folded and stacked. “This is from us,” Mother said. “I know it’s not the exciting present every boy dreams of, but you’re growing so fast, I thought you could use a new wardrobe.”

I peered at the clothing curiously. It was obviously well-made, at least by village standards, and I wasn’t familiar with the material. “Where did these come from?” I asked.

“A woman in Solfarin makes them,” Father explained. “We sent a delegation there three months ago. These are from the very first order she took for us.”

That explained why I hadn’t seen anyone wearing anything similar. I held the shirt up to examine it. As with all desert clothes, the sleeves were long and loose, and it was a pale cream color. Surprisingly, they looked to be correctly sized. Considering I’d never met the woman and I was growing twice as fast as I was supposed to, someone had done a phenomenal job estimating how big I was.

“Thank you,” I said. “I can’t wait to try them on.”

That was true. The fibers used to make clothes in the village I’d been born in were a bit stiffer and scratchier than I liked, and this material was soft and light. A proper archmage probably ought to be better dressed than I generally was.

Mother folded the sheet back another foot, this time revealing a wooden chest the size of my head. “This one is from Tetrin,” she said with a frown as she glanced around, “who doesn’t seem to be here. I know I saw him earlier.”

“He went back to work before we started eating,” I said. Mother’s frown deepened, but she didn’t say anything else. At this point, nobody was surprised by the mage’s taciturn personality. He rarely spoke to anyone about anything but business.

The box opened into three tiered sections on some clever hinges hidden inside, revealing row after row of padded holders and cubbies. “Ah, a jewelry box,” I said. It was loaded with two dozen blank rings and necklaces of various types of stone and metal. “Leave it to Tetrin to come up with such a practical gift idea. This will save me a ton of work when I need material to inscribe new spells on.”

I didn’t need my eyes to tell me the next thing under the table. I could smell the herbs already, and it was no surprise when mother revealed a cloth sack and announced, “This one is from Hyago.”

He stepped forward and said, “I noticed your garden getting a bit thin lately, so I thought a restock on your supplies would be helpful until you had time to get back to it.”

That was true. For the last four months, I’d been sinking most of my time into a project with Tetrin and my own supply of alchemical reagents was dwindling rapidly. I’d actually been meaning to speak to some of our druid crew to see if I could get them to take over for me, but this was an even better temporary solution.

“Thanks, Hyago,” I said. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He nodded and started to say something, but paused when he caught a look from my mother and just chuckled. “You’re welcome,” was all he said instead.

I made a mental note to follow up with Hyago on whatever it was he wanted to talk about, probably some sort of work thing, after the party was over. Between him and Tetrin, I suspected my next few days would be busy.

Before Mother could continue, a tremendous cracking sound split the air. Everybody turned toward it, and one of the people close to the windows on that side of the mess hall cried out, “Strangers on the teleportation platform!”

I scrambled across the room, rudely shoving a few people aside to get a good look. There were fourteen of them, all dressed in leather and wielding swords, bows, and spears. Bloody wounds were abundant, and more than one was clutching at a wounded arm or leg.

Mana streamed out of one side of the platform, probably from that cracked emitter. It really should have been fine as it was, but if people trying to use the platform’s twin had botched the spell on their end, there might have been a possibility of an overload cascading through the inscriptions here in the sanctuary and causing the emitters to fail.

“Well, that’ll ruin the party,” Father said from behind me. I turned to see him looking over my head at the group standing on the platform.

“Do you know any of them?” I asked.

“Not a one.”

“Does anyone know who they are?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the muttered conversations.

“I think they’re from Ghalin,” one of the orphan crew said. I didn’t recognize the kid, which probably meant he was one of the newer arrivals in the last few months or so. “I recognize that guy on the side with the broken spear and the gash on his face. He’s one of their defenders.”

That was probably a good thing. It meant they were most likely here looking for help, not trying to invade us. That had happened once early on, when we’d first started making contact with villages around the island. One of the larger towns had made the decision that we were too small to fight back, recruited a handful of mages from Derro, and forced a connection between the two teleportation platforms. I’d killed the invaders and wiped out the leadership of that town, and if the people who’d taken over in that power vacuum weren’t by biggest fans, at least they didn’t cause me any problems.

Though we didn’t have any sort of official council, there were various people in charge of different sections of the sanctuary. My father, for example, had been the first farmer here and already had an ignited core at that point. He’d laid out the fields according to his own desires and though we had half a dozen people working them now, his designs had largely stuck and he’d been nominated as the person who spoke on behalf of the rest of them if coordination was needed.

Similarly, Hyago was the person who functioned as a point of contact for all our wood-folk, everyone from our fledgling druids to wood cutters to hunters. A woman named Ryla organized the trading groups that went out to other villages, and anyone who wanted to sell their wares but didn’t want to leave talked to her about it.

Those people and a few others all joined me in converging on the travelers who’d appeared on our teleportation platform. The platform itself was just a circle of stone with the runes needed to spread a teleportation effect across multiple people carved into it and emitters added to the base to keep the beacon activated and to power everything. Buried below it was a pillar ten feet tall and three feet across that was carved with the inscriptions needed to cast the teleportation spell itself.

The emitters barely held enough mana to cast a single teleportation, but I’d designed it that way on purpose. Linking it to the main enchantment battery ran the risk of killing every enchantment in the sanctuary if somebody pulled too much mana from it, and I wasn’t keen on the idea of a few weeks of work enchanting all the buildings all over again. Using the emitters meant the villagers could charge the inscriptions themselves by pooling their resources without any risk to the rest of our infrastructure.

The leader of the group standing on our now-busted platform was about the same height as me, but looked to be in his forties. His face was lined, his skin leathery from a life spent out in the sun, and the stubble covering his scalp and chin was seeded with gray. Despite that, he stood straight and carried a spear in one hand. Leather bracers were tied tight on his forearms and he had some sort of monster-hide jerkin covering his torso.

Unlike most of his companions, he was uninjured. I ran my eyes over the group, trying to sus out who had the most urgent injuries to see if I’d be needed. We had two mages now specializing in healing magic, but teaching that was painfully slow going. If there were only surface injuries amongst the wounded and nothing life-threatening, this would be a good chance for them to get some practice in.

By the time we’d piled out of the mess hall, the leader was already walking towards us, his stride purposeful and his face grim. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked. “My people need help. We have no time left to waste.”