A Farmer’s Guide to Sorcery (Oneshot)

A Farmer’s Guide to Sorcery (Oneshot)

Patreon Special

Word Count: 1152

…

The Compendium is a mystical artifact millennia old. The tome of the very first Sorcerer, who instituted the formal learning of magic, it has passed through the hands of dozens of generations, with the intent to find the next worthy to learn from it, and add to its pages. 

It has been used to make kings, to shatter countries, and bring low even gods. Should the Sorcerer wielding it die, or decide to pass on from this realm to the next, the Compendium finds another and renews the cycle once again. 

It cared not for ideology, race, morality, culture, and othersuch things.

To the Compendium, creator of both tyrants and iconoclasts, only potential and worth in magic mattered.

Thus, it shouldn’t have surprised any court, kingdom, and empire that after millennia, it chose a peasant to bequeath itself to. 

Though, the one who expected to gain it, those who expected her to gain it, and the lineages who’d harnesses their blood’s talent to gain it, were understandably upset. 

However, the Compendium cared not for such things, as it deposited itself on the lap of a farmer in a rural land, instead of the hands of the student of its former wielder. 

“Oh! A book from the sky! How amazing!”

Though, given the simplistic phrasing and abject amazement of its new wielder, it did worry that he’d be unable to read.

Perhaps, it was not too late to return to its second choice—

“I’ll read your from start to end! I promise! I’ve already finished all the books father left me! I’m so happy to have you, sky book!”

And, just like that, the Compendium decided that everything was fine.

Regardless of the multiple civil wars, foreign invasions, and plots it sent into motion. Along with a few dead bids, a shattered ceiling, and several weather formations, but those mattered less than the lesser things it previously considered.

After all, it was just a book doing its job.

Handling the chaos it sowed in its wake was the job of its wielder, if they chose to.

It built character.

Either apathy or a general disregard for mortal lives, to be exact.

Both of which were quite conducive towards the progression of magic.

So, it settled on its current course without a care in the world.

“Ooh! Book! You can change the words you show? That’s amazing!”

The Compendium had a feeling that his newest wielder would be the best in the last few centuries.

…

Salina felt weaker than she’d ever felt in her life. Upon her awakening, accompanying flashes of pain throughout the whole of her form, she recalled her sister’s tear stricken face, the sword she had embedded in her chest, and falling in deep, cold darkness. A cliff’s edge and into water, she presumed, but there were other matters to ascertain. Namely, the fact that she was alive despite the fact she had her family’s ancestral blade punch through her armor, eviscerate her heart, and tear out her lungs upon withdrawal. 

That tended to kill people, even princesses raised from birth to lead armies and confront enemy champions in clashes that would pulp normal folk.

She was slightly curious as to the reason she lived.

And, why she was still in pain and bandaged from head-to-toe, if whoever rescued her could turn an emptied, ravaged chest cavity back into a whole, filled modest chest. 

She reasoned that her attentions to her physical appearance, instead of her status as miraculously alive, was due to a concussion. 

She was correct, but she didn’t know that.

Still, her focus on her modesty granted her advance notice of oncoming footsteps. Princess of War and Battle Salina might be, but she didn’t intend to reveal her modesty to onlookers. Even onlookers who’d granted her a boon she didn’t have before. Or, should she? Ladies with bosoms did show them off—

She knew that she was correct about having a concussion as the door opened. 

“Oh, you’re awake! That’s amazing! You were dead!” Still, Salina was unprepared for the overwhelming nature of her benefactor. Not in the sense of martial or arcane might, but a complete lack of tact combined with an unnatural glee and energy. After years of fighting a civil war, and a prelude of living amongst stifling nobility, she had no resistance to her first meeting with a morning person. “How are you? Do you feel okay? How about your other wounds? I did my best dealing with them naturally, because I didn’t want to heal you without your permission!”

Salina took a moment to process those words.

“You saved my life, but didn’t heal the rest of my wounds… in case I wanted to die?” 

“It’s happened before. Some people like being dead! So, I just made sure you’re alive. If you want to die, just say so, and you’ll be back to normal quick!” Again, Salina considered her benefactor. This time, she examined him whilst doing her utmost best to comprehend his words. He was slim young man, clad in a combination of peasant clothes and a coat as dark as midnight, with pale skin, white hair, and an unwrinkled face. Combining the oddities together just took her a moment, given her extensive experience with users of magic. She was definitely in the presence of a Sorcerer who has lost his mind in exchange for immense power. She was simultaneously the safest and most endangered she’d ever been in her life. “If you want to die, please allow me to apologize for disturbing your rest first, though!”

“Its fine. I am happy to be alive.” Salina considered the situation carefully and quickly. She needed to escape, to leave the location as quickly as possible, and return to her people. In that order of priority. She couldn’t return to her people if she was dead. “I would like to be healed of all my wounds, Sorcerer.”

“That’s great! I’m happy to hear that!” For a moment, Salina winced against the beaming smile sent her way. A life of nobility, warfare, and hard decisions understandably made her weak against boundless optimism. He was flame and she was oil. If she let her guard down, she’ll be consumed and spent, her very soul drained of impetus in the face of constant joy. She wasn’t a people person. “Tome! Come here! Let’s heal the princess up! Maybe we can even help her out and get some new pages for you!”

Salina froze at the words for three reasons.

First, because the mysterious Sorcerer had called her a princess.

Secondly, because the Sorcerer just admitted to having the years-long-lost Compendium.

Thirdly, because  in an instant she no longer had any control of her body whatsoever, regardless of all her innate defenses and techniques, and could only silently scream and stare at her benefactor’s smiling face.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you, princess!”

Salina worried.