Chapter 3.8: The Plane In Between

“Tell me what you can do.” Oanoa looks at the half-elf with greedy eyes, as if he hungers for the answer.
“I like to read about the arcane”, Oslando says. “I sometimes try to study, but sadly I don’t excel enough in any kind of magic to actually cast spells.”
“Well, you know that’s not true.” The Beholder smiles excessively. It looks like he knows a big secret.
“I feel you have potential and I sense the traces of a spell you cast a while ago. It’s coming from one of your weapons. I can feel it coming from your knife. Remember any spells you cast on it? You can’t make me believe you forgot about something like this. I think you remember it very well.”
Oslando nods and puts the knife on table.
“I sometimes feel like I have a bond with this weapon. I can’t really explain it, but it feels like it’s a part of my body. I can feel where it is and I can call it back to me. In the past I tried it with larger weapons, but I couldn’t create the same bond. I always guessed the weapons were too big for the small amount of magic I could link to it.”
Lyssa’s mouth falls open.
“You are a spellcaster as well? It seems everyone is these days. Except for you, Bruq… But you’re a great hunter!”
He squints his eyes at her and shakes his head a bit. She’s probably teasing him, but he can’t deny it.
“A very special kind of spellcaster I might add”. Oanoa speaks with a joyous voice. “You are an eldritch knight, Oslando.”
“What’s that?” Dargothoth, silent up to this point, looks intrigued.
“Fearsome warriors is what they are”, Oanoa explains. “I remember meeting an eldritch knight once. He started out as a simple fighter, just like you, Oslando, and met a wizard someday who wanted to hire him. Instead of paying him money, he taught him how to use magic in combat. Can you imagine a fully trained eldritch knight? Imbuing his swords with magical powers, throwing weapons at foes and calling them back in an instant. No need for a shield when a magical barrier protects you. At full potential, eldritch knights are nearly invincible. I want this for you, Oslando. I want to help you reach your full potential.”
(Insight 6)
The half-elf feels inspired, invigorated. To hear someone like this great sorcerer speak so highly of him and of what he could become, is amazing.
“Thank you very much”, Oslando says with a big smile on his face. The others haven’t seen him smile like this ever. He looks happy.
“I’m glad you want to help me, but why you would bother to do that? You have all these things to observe. Why would you make time for me?”
Oanoa slides his chair back and stands up.
“You know what the problem is when you can only observe?” He lifts his arms up quite theatrically and walks over to the half-elf. “It gets boring when nothing happens. I like nothing more than to be entertained and you are my entertainment at the moment. The other thing I like beside that, is being generous, giving things away. I see myself as a kind of teacher.” He leans over Oslando’s shoulder and picks up the knife. “Indeed, you may rightfully be grateful I’m going to be your teacher.”
(Insight 21)
He walks, or rather floats, back to his seat and he points the knife at its owner. The Beholder smirks and something about it doesn’t feel right with Oslando. The half-elf is on edge and feels a slight twitch next to his eye. The sorcerer holds the tip of the knife between his fingertips and wiggles it a bit.
“Your lessons will be quite simple”, Oanoa says. “I believe magical greatness can only be achieved if you know the basics, so we will start there. Tomorrow, after you have had your rest and mental preparation, we will search my library for the right scrolls. I have some in mind for you already.”
He lets go of the knife, but it levitates at the same place. It tilts slowly, pointing the sharp tip to one of his guests.
“Before we start with these lessons, you must show me you can use your abilities under pressure, like trying to save one of your friends.”
Oanoa flings the weapon at Mero. Oslando quickly stands up, his chair falls over, and stretches out his hand to his knife. He’s fast enough to call it back as he makes it disappear with a dim purple flash. His fingers become white from how tightly he holds the dagger.
“You can’t do that!” A blood vessel pulsates visibly on the half-elf’s forehead.
“It’s only entertainment, eldritch knight.” Their host smiles. “And if you would have been too late, I would have never let the knife hurt my nephew. You believe that, right, Merodius?”
“Uh-huh.” It’s the only thing the puppet can say. He’s shaking.
“Good”, his uncle smiles. “Then we can continue.”