Powder, Smoke and a touch of Magic

Chapter 33: Power

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room as James stirred awake. Blinking against the brightness, he found Murtagh standing by the window, his broad shoulders illuminated by the golden light.

"Good morning," Murtagh greeted, a soft smile playing on his lips as he turned to face James.

James groaned in response, shielding his eyes from the glare. "Morning," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. "Could you grab me some water?"

Chuckling, Murtagh crossed the room to fetch a glass of water, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Drank a bit too much last night, did we?" he teased, handing James the glass.

Taking a grateful sip of water, James shot Murtagh a sheepish grin. "Maybe just a little," he admitted, feeling the effects of the previous night's festivities.

Murtagh chuckled again, his laughter filling the room as he watched James drink. "Well, we've got a busy day ahead," he said once James had finished, setting the glass aside. "We need to head to the middle city to find the mage I want to meet."

Nodding in understanding, James finished his water and began to rouse himself from the bed. Murtagh settled in a nearby chair, flipping through a book as he waited for James to get ready.

Over the next half-hour, James slowly shook off the remnants of sleep, munching on some fruit and dressing himself in comfortable attire for the day ahead. Murtagh observed him with amused patience, his eyes occasionally flicking up from his book to check on James's progress.

Finally ready, James joined Murtagh at the door, both men exchanging a nod before stepping out into the bustling streets of the city. With Murtagh leading the way, they set off towards the middle city, the promise of adventure and discovery awaiting them on their journey.

Murtagh guided James through the winding streets of the city until they reached their destination—a seemingly ordinary house nestled on the west side. James glanced at the building, its façade giving away nothing of the secrets it held within.

As Murtagh knocked on the door, a voice from inside called out, "Who goes there?" Murtagh replied confidently, "Tornac, an old friend." Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly man standing in the doorway.

The man's eyes lit up as he recognized Murtagh, shaking his hand warmly. "It's been too long," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. His gaze then shifted to James, a hint of suspicion clouding his expression as he asked, "And who might this be?"

Murtagh stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on James's shoulder. "This is James," he explained. "A dear friend of mine. The work we do is safe, Graves."

Graves studied James for a moment before nodding in understanding. Extending his hand, he introduced himself, "Graves, at your service."

James shook Graves's hand firmly, a sense of relief washing over him as he realized they were in good company. With introductions out of the way, Murtagh and James followed Graves deeper inside the home.

The atmosphere in Graves's home was warm and cozy, the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with the aroma of wine. James hesitated for a moment, considering the effects of the alcohol from the night before, but a warning glance from Murtagh prompted him to accept the offered glass.

As they settled around the table, Graves poured each of them a generous serving of wine and laid out a spread of bread and cheeses. James couldn't help but feel a pang of hunger as he reached for a slice of crusty bread, his appetite awakening at the sight of the delicious spread.

Graves, the gracious host, turned his attention to Murtagh, his curiosity evident in his gaze. "What brings you here, my friend?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine interest.