Veeran sighed. Another long day coming to a close.

He had worked as an enchanter for nigh on forty years now, and while the work wasn't usually difficult, it could be tedious and sometimes even dangerous.

Nothing was ever certain when working with souls.

Veeran scoffed. To think, some people considered it black magic! Yes, in a sense it was necromancy, but truly it was the only way to enchant an item. Besides, it wasn't as if they used human souls. That... would be frowned upon. No, instead, Veeran, and all other enchanters like him, used the souls of animals and creatures. He had made an agreement with several local farmers, where he could siphon the soul while the animal was slaughtered in exchange for some coin. Really, it was just using every available asset of the animal, much like a butcher would.

But enchanting was much more than that, wasn't it?

It required expertise, experience, intellect, and knowledge to become a skilled enchanter. That's why there were currently only three professional enchanters in all of Thanadan, despite being one of the largest cities on the continent. Of course, there were probably more, you never knew what went under the table or what the underworld had to offer, unless...

Veeran shook his head. Enough of that. He had to focus. He was finishing up an enchantment, a simple one really, to make a set of armor gleam without polish. It was a job for an old acquaintance, someone who was past his prime and wanted something to remember his glory days by. But considering the nature of the job, it was a tad frustrating. He'd had to use multiple souls for this, albeit small ones, because the armor couldn't be shipped in one large piece. If it were, he could just use one large soul, say a cow's, and be done with the matter. But because the armor would be disassembled, he had to individually enchant each piece to make sure it stuck. That took time and patience, both for the enchantments itself and the wait for hunters to capture enough appropriate animals for the job.

One last touch, a whispered incantation, and the last piece, the helmet, was finished. It practically glowed in the afternoon sun, in contrast to the now empty focusing gem he had used to power the enchantment. Tomorrow he would have it delivered. For now, it was time to enjoy some light reading before night fell. Perhaps some theoretical arithmetic arrays on the usage of souls, to soothe him?

Veeran chuckled lightly at his private little joke. No more work for him, not tonight! He was going to settle down and read something fun, like that story that had come out about a dragon and a vampire falling in love. Of course, that brought up the possibility, could it happen? Now Veeran was intrigued, where had he set down that book...?

"Veeran, eh?" The old man's weathered face, rough, like old leather leather, cracked with lines of thought. His tone carried the same confusion when he added, "I know of him, sure. He comes around here quite a bit, working with farmers, you know." A hand, spotted with age and crippled with early stages of arthritis, rose to remove his wide-billed straw hat. The other raked through the small patches of snow-white hair that remained. "But where he lives? Ah, I'm afraid I can't tell you. I'm an old man, you know."

At this, the woman he spoke to smiled. Is that so? she thought good-naturedly, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter at the stranger's behavior. He was charming, and reminded her quite a bit of her grandfather. Before his passing, he had a habit of of tacking the phrase 'you know' onto the end of just about every sentence. If the old man kept it up, she may not be able to keep the humor to herself.

His words drew her attention once more. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you, ma'am. And though my mind's going, you know, I'm not quick to forget a face. Are you from these parts?"

"Thanadan?" came her answer. "No, I'm not."

"So just visiting town to get something from Veeran then?"

Now her smile widened. She gave a small nod, then paused to brush back a few rogue locks of hair. It was blonde, but so sun-kissed that its color was not altogether different from the old man's. "In a manner of speaking. He has agreed to take me as his apprentice. I'll be studying under him."

The man paused, some of the joy leaving his expression. His brown eyes, the woman noted, hardened. This time, when he spoke, there were no light-hearted 'you knows.' "I see. So you're one of them, then?"

Was that hostility that laced his tone? The woman acted in turn, her own smile fading. "One of them?" she repeated.

He had offended, and this was not lost on him. He proceeded more cautiously, but his previous positivity was gone for good. His tone darkened. "A necromancer. We don't have many of your sort here."

"My sort." When she echoed his words, her tone was cold, and bereft of emotion. As a woman in her early thirties, who had lived a life that awarded her all the freedoms she desired, she did not appreciate being treated as an inferior. She would waste no more time on this man. "I'll take my leave then. Good day."

When she turned, she should have kept walking. The old man atop his rickety wagon, with his old grey mare and piss-poor demeanor, did not deserve another word. But she could not resist. "Odd," she added hotly, before rounding on him once more. "I have traveled the world. I have seen your kind before. But I had been told that Thanadan was an open-minded place. I am left to hope that you are merely the exception."

---

When her anger had waned, Naomi had been left with the satisfaction of putting the old bigot in his place. But she was still without sense of where her future mentor resided. It had been hours before she stumbled upon his shop, and by then, she had nearly run herself ragged; the trip from Caershire had taken longer than she had anticipated. But the woman straightened her loose-fitting travel clothes, squared her shoulders, and sucked in a deep breath before rapping her knuckles against the sturdy wooden door.

From her side of the door, Naomi could hear a few things happen in quick succession. First, she heard an old man mutter something along the lines of, "Now who the bloody hell could that be..." followed by the creak of a chair and some shuffling. Then there was a bang, followed by a louder bang, and then a resounding BOOM. The crack under the door glowed bright blue for a second then faded.

The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing a disheveled man that looked to be in his late 60's. His eyes were weathered, but manic, going back and forth - likely due to the small explosion that had just taken place. He was dressed in moderately fine robes, simple but very well made, and loose fitting in a way that made movement easy and showed that he was fairly fit for his age. He had brownish hair that was graying, and his eyes were a dull steel. Besides his robes, the only thing of note on him were his open toed sandals (which Naomi would likely know was a no-no when it came to enchanting) and the small necklace that had a tiny focusing gem on it.

Veeran looked at the woman in front of him, scrutinizing her. Between his disheveledness, his eyes darting back and forth, and the fact that his eyebrows were singed, he made for a strange, perhaps frightening sight. Finally he spoke, "Yes, who are you? I don't recognize you, so you're not from around here. Are you looking for something made? If so, please come back tomorrow, it's already fairly late and I am done for today. Unless you're here to collect taxes? You're three weeks early, so again, come back later. Or don't come back at all! Haha!" He chuckled at his rather weak joke.

His face settled, and he looked at her strangely. "Well? Spit it out, I was reading a very good book when you knocked."

Her jaw dropped, then moved helplessly, gasping for a break in his ramblings like a fish out of water. She had nearly closed her mouth, giving up all together, when he gave her a chance to speak. There was confusion in his gaze, Naomi determined as her eyes met and held his. But also something that looked a bit like suspicion. And perhaps annoyance, which she supposed she could understand, as she had just interrupted his private reading time.

"Naomi," she finally replied, recognizing that there would be no more formal an introduction, given the late hour. She was exhausted from the long journey, and her interactions with the old man had left a bad taste in her mouth. The man with the wild eyes and scorched eyebrows said he had been reading when she approached. No doubt that they both had better things to do than exchange pleasantries in the dying sunlight. "I'm Naomi. I'm looking for a man named Veeran."

There was something about his eyes that piqued her interest. They were the color of polished steel, wide and dancing with curiosity, and humor at his own little joke. But there was also a gentle wisdom that she had witnessed in only a few other individuals, namely scholars and scientists. Her mentor from childhood had held the same look. So though she figured she already knew the answer, the blonde asked softly, "are you him?"

"Naomi."

The name clicked in his mind. He suddenly remembered that he had taken on an apprentice, and that she had been due any day now. Really, he had been looking forward to the company and the help. Enchanting wasn't exactly a dying art, but it wasn't particularly wide spread either. His attention refocused just in time to hear her say, "I'm looking for a man named Veeran. Are you him?"

Veeran scoffed lightly. "Not like I'd be anyone else, missy. Yes, I'm Veeran. So, Nawmy, right? I remember you sending that message asking me to take you on as an apprentice. Frankly I was expecting you at an earlier hour, not the end of the day." He shrugged, mostly to himself it seemed. "Well, you're here now. So the question is, are you expecting to start tonight? If so, you'll be sorely disappointed."

He began to wave her in, then thought better of it. "Well, I prepared a room for you in here a while back, in case you needed it. May as well discuss rooming while we're at it. You can stay here, free room and board, while you're studying under me. You'll also get the chance to sell your own creations, once you've advanced enough. So you won't be hurting for coin. That said, I understand if you don't want to listen to the snoring of an old geezer like me. You can pay for a room in an inn if you'd like, though that'll have to come out of your own pocket. Your choice, Nawmy."

His voice was gentle but firm, much like one would expect from a tutor.

"Oh, and first rule of enchanting: keep your gob shut. You don't want anything flying in there while you're working. Distractions are bad for business."

...He also had the eccentricities of an old man, much like one would expect from someone who was over 80 years old.

Her lips closed with a smart slap, then pursed with the faintest hints of annoyance. Much like the old man who she had intercepted earlier that morning, she was not compelled to cut Veeran any slack due to age. She did not approve of being treated poorly, period, and she had worked hard to ensure that she would never need to put up with it. A sharp retort burned hot on the tip of her tongue, but after another moment of thought, she swallowed it. She had sought him out, not the other way around. She owed him the benefit of the doubt. Or, at the very least, she could rein in the temper that had made her known in more than a few cities.

Now her lips curled into a semi-forced smile. "Naomi, yes," she replied, taking care to add extra emphasis to the pronunciation of the name. "And I apologize for my tardiness, but I had difficulty finding you. I've come a long way, and while most seemed to know your name, no one could provide reliable directions."

He had mentioned her economic situation, assuring her that she would not be short on coin were she to sell her own goods. Not that I'm short anyway, she thought with some satisfaction, though that information would not be made public. "I would prefer to stay with you," came her answer, "as it will allow me to remain closer to my work. Snoring does not bother me. I have been required to sleep through much worse."