Avdren pushed open the library door and stepped out onto the street, the light of dawn greeting him with a warm summer breeze that carried a faint scent of the sea. When his parents moved to the coastal city of Agrenon, he was glad they had chosen to buy this property in the eastern district. The salty air sometimes became overpowering on the western side, and coupled with the ever-present odor of fish, it was hard to become accustomed to it. Even now, after ten years, he struggled to stay down by the docks for any longer than he had to. With a practiced hand, Avdren reached into his shirt pocket and produced a pack of rolled tobacco, removing one and placing it to his lips. The end of the tobacco lit up as if it had a mind of its own. He placed the pack back into his pocket and took a drag. He started down the cobbled street towards the market district, exhaling with a sigh.
Other townsfolk greeted him with a friendly wave or nod of the head as he passed. Avdren stood out a bit, being just over six feet tall with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Most people here were shorter, with darker complexions and lighter hair. Most humans, anyways. Elves and dwarves tended to vary greatly in appearance. He took another drag on his smoke and let out a slow exhale, musing over things. Today marked a month since his parents' passing. He was twenty-six now, and taking care of the library and its collection all by himself. He could have given it up, but part of him still held on despite all the bad memories. He guessed there were good memories too, just enough of them to give a piece of him hope. His parents, Trev and Amelia Brent, had purchased the building when they moved to the city. They invested thousands of tabs into the renovations, turning the property into both a home and a public space. His parents were collectors, of a sort, who bought and sold items of magic from all over the Continent.
"Bah, it's no use," he scoffed. Chuckling dryly to himself with a frown. He wanted to push the thoughts away, so he took another drag before flinging the end of the rolled tobacco away with his fingertips. When it hit the ground, the residual ember immediately extinguished, and the leaves crumbled into nothingness. Avdren exhaled the smoke and turned his gaze from the cobblestones to the buildings around him. His mood had turned sour, and he no longer felt like heading to the Lazy Minstrel for any food. His stomach needed something, though, so he turned and headed down a different street towards the market stalls. He nodded politely to the people who passed him. Avdren could blame that on his parents, too, he guessed. Gold and silver tabs seemed to flow freely from the fingertips of his father and mother. He never had quite understood where it all came from, but the citizens of Agrenon didn't seem to care. He suspected that a good amount of the friendly greetings he got were people hoping to cozy up to him like they had with Mr. and Mrs. Brent. Avdren wondered if many people thought his family to be some form of nobility. Perhaps they were, once. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and continued down the street, keeping his head low to avoid seeing the supposedly friendly greetings.
It didn't take long to reach the market, and even less time to find the stall he sought. "Mildred! Are there any apples left?" He gave a genuine smile to the elderly woman as he approached, chuckling at his joke. She laughed, stepping out from behind the stall and wrapping her arms around him in a grandmotherly embrace.
"What do you mean? The stalls just opened, and you can see all the apples right here. Silly boy." Mildred snickered, waiting for him to hug her back before stepping back to look up at him. "I'm glad you came around Avdren. I'm happy to see you out of that house. I remember when I could barely chase you away from 'borrowing' an apple."
He laughed, and it felt good. A genuine laugh that made his heart lift for a moment. "And I remember when you were taller than me," he grinned mischievously and gave her a wink. "So, an apple?" He pulled a silver tab out from his pocket and placed it in her hand, raising a finger to forestall any objections. "I vividly remember all the apples I used to 'borrow'. The least I can do is occasionally give you extra tabs to make up for it." Tabs were a widely recognized currency, made from shaving down copper, silver, or gold bars and stamping them with various special seals. Each nation had a seal unique to it. Agrenon was part of Theonaght, and the tabs used here carried its stamp of a hawk clutching a fish. Most of Theonaght's income was primarily from coastal towns and cities, which focused a great deal on ocean trading and fishing.
"Fine, fine. You're too kind to an old woman." She pocketed the tab before reaching over and snagging a bright green apple from her stall, passing it over with a smile. Avdren chuckled and took a bite of the tart fruit, enjoying both the flavor and the satisfying crunch.
"Thanks, Mildred. I'll see you around." With the apple in hand, he gave a wave. He turned and walked away, weaving through the growing throng of people on the street. Buying the apple from Mildred had been a good idea. She was like the grandmother he never knew, and chatting with her always raised his spirits. He had been a rascal when he was younger, but she always tolerated his antics. He made sure to make it up to her as he got older and was happy to have the extra money to give her. The crisp apple didn't last him too long, and he tossed the core away as he walked. Just like the remnants of his tobacco from earlier, it disintegrated when it hit the ground. Avdren smiled to himself. Despite all their shortcomings, his parents had left him a precious gift. Magic.
He wasn't born with it as some were, but he possessed the skill nonetheless. His studies had always gone well, but the magic lessons attracted his focus more than the others by far. Mages, or wizards as they were more commonly called on the Continent, used magic in two ways. First were basic spells, which required no magical focus or components. They allowed the caster to do simple things. Avdren lit his tobacco, cleaned up his litter, and performed many other mundane tasks utilizing these basic spells. The second level of magic came in many different strengths but allowed a wizard to perform amazing feats that defied natural order. One could affect the weather, strike down foes with elemental magic, or do a myriad of other things. The caveat to all a wizard's magic came in the need for writing. Because of a lack of natural connection to magic, wizards needed to utilize written words, runes, glyphs, or some other form of written connection. Typically, a wizard would use scrolls, or a book of some kind, and use a special mental technique to bond the writing to themselves. Recalling what was written from memory or reading it aloud gave them access to the spells. They needed to carry the book with them, however, for anything beyond a basic spell. Basic spells were unique, and as long as they were written down and memorized by the wizard, he or she could use them no matter where the book was, as a result of the bonding technique. Magic was useful, and Avdren was glad to have it. It never seemed to tire him as much as it did for others, though he did have to be careful. Trying to cast too many spells in too short a time, even basic spells, would run the risk of fraying the mental connection to his spell book. If that happened, he would be without magic until the connection was repaired with rest and time. Unless it frayed completely, of course. If it was not done intentionally and with great care, a bond breaking could Snap and cause backlash to the wizard. Many were driven mad or died outright from the mental strain.
Avdren pursed his lips as he thought about his magic. He supposed that's where most of his good memories came from, and why he refused to sell his parents' collection. A man had come by the library not long after the funeral and asked about purchasing everything for quite a large sum. He had gotten visibly frustrated at Avdren's refusal and left in quite an animated state. Try as he could, Avdren couldn't remember the man's name. It bothered him immensely as his memory was usually fairly accurate, especially for people. He sighed and shrugged, pulling out another cigarette and calling on his mental connection to light it as he continued down the street, heading for home.