The door to the library swung inward as Avdren stepped back inside. The sunlight felt nice, but there was work to be done and no one else to do it. Today would be the day a representative from the city council would be by to discuss plans for the future of the library. His parents had left no will, so the entire estate was left to Avdren by default. It would be up to him to keep the place open himself, close it down, or perhaps sell it to the city. They would, of course, auction off the contents and line their pockets, but that was the nature of merchants. Avdren took a broom from the corner and began to sweep. Despite the ease of magic, some tasks felt better with your hands. His wizard tutor, Braeden, had always been a proponent of still taking the time to do some things manually. Avdren remembered once when he was young, his teacher had caught him using a basic spell to write notes for himself. The man had sat down with him and taken away the notes with a disheartened look.
"Avdren, magic is a wonderful thing," Braeden had said, "but you must never stop doing what you can with your own two hands. A good wizard should train his body as well as his mind. It is important to stay active and find a hobby or task that can work for both your physical and mental health." His teacher had given him a reassuring smile and clapped him on the shoulder. "Plus, you can stay more active that way. I knew a wizard who decided to do everything with magic, and he eventually got so fat from not moving around enough that he fell out of his bed and right through the bedroom floor."
He smiled as he continued sweeping, remembering the laughter they shared at the embellished tale. Avdren had committed to himself from then on to only using his magic for specific things. Lately, though, he had noticed a faltering in his commitment. The unfortunate circumstances of the last month had sent him into a mental spiral. He surmised that was why the simple act of sweeping was bringing him this small bit of joy. After he finished up, he went and took a dust rag from one of the cabinets before going to one of the large glass cases that dotted the room and inspecting it for dust. He began to clean each of the cases, one by one, pausing along the way to gaze at the items. Most of the cases were designed to be opened and contained a multitude of scrolls in various languages. The ones in Elvish, or the lesser-known dragon-speak, were some of his favorites. The two languages were not only vastly different from the common tongue, but also clashed with each other. Elven language flowed smoothly, like poetry or song, whereas dragons and their kin wrote and spoke in a harsh and guttural tone that resembled more closely the noise you might expect a rockslide to make.
A knock startled him from his thoughts, and he turned to the sound. "Please, come in!" The enthusiasm in his voice surprised Avdren a bit. He watched the door open, and a man garbed in fine attire stepped in. Before he shut the door behind himself, Avdren saw the shadows of two more men outside. "Guards, in this district? Seems a bit condescending, does it not? I can't think of a crime on this side of town for over a year, aside from perhaps some poor bastard stealing a loaf of bread." The man turned to him and let out a low chuckle, meeting Avdren's eyes. Without the daylight behind him to cast his face in shadow, he looked familiar. A middle-aged man with a scar down his cheek and a strange bloodshot condition in his eyes.
"So, Mr. Brent, wasn't it? I do hope you remember my name as well. It's only polite." He stepped further into the room, glancing around at all the glass cases. "I believe we spoke before about all," he gestured vaguely, "this?"
"Yes, we did." Avdren set down the rag and folded his arms. "Unfortunately, Sir, I do not remember your name. Just that you offered some outlandish amount of money for all," he made a similar gesture in mock imitation of the man, "this."
The man didn't rise to the insult, though his eyes narrowed a bit. "Yes, well. I seem to recall that despite the gracious - and quite flattering - amount of money I offered, your response to me was 'Fuck off'. Does that sound about right?" The man's tone dipped low as he spoke, taking on an almost dangerous quality. "See, Avdren, I was hoping to make this easy for you. Rumor has it you and dear dead mum and dad didn't get along so well. I wanted to let you take the money and run along. It's too bad, because now you'll never get the chance." He leaned on the waist-high glass case in front of him and folded his hands together in a steeple. The door behind him opened as the two men stepped in. One of them drew a truncheon from his belt while the other closed the door, letting the bar fall into place. "Boys," the scarred man said, "please show Avdren here why he should have taken my offer."
As the two men advanced, Avdren mentally released a select string of expletives. The man had looked suspicious when they had first met. He should have acted on his gut then, but it was too late now to look back. As the thugs drew closer, Avdren knew he had to act fast. Without his spell book, he was weaker, though not entirely defenseless. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the dust rag at the nearer of the two. As the man raised his weapon reflexively, Avdren darted in, using his reach to grab the man's collar. Before he could react, blue lightning crackled around Avdren's hand and slammed into the man. He jolted back with the shock as his muscles went limp, but the wizard yanked him forward and down, bringing a knee up with force. There was a crunch of bone as his nose shattered with the impact, and the man slumped to the floor. Avdren turned to face the second man, but was met with a fist himself. He staggered back into a case against the wall and heard the glass crack behind him. Sharp pinpricks of pain flared along his spine as bits of glass dug into him. "Fucker," he snarled, and pushed himself back toward his assailant. The man threw another blow, but Avdren ducked under and tackled him to the floor. Lightning surged again in his palms as he cast another basic spell and slammed both fists into the man's chest. He coughed, spitting blood, before spasming and going limp. Avdren staggered to his feet and turned to face the first man. "Did you bring more, you dumb-" The word died on his lips though, as a sudden pain wracked his head. He dropped to a knee, gritting his teeth.
"Oh yes, just one more. He's upstairs. I believe by the expression on your face, he has your spell book. You really should have put it somewhere more secure." A smug smile crossed the man's face as he took a step forward. "You see, Avdren Brent. I, too, know of the magical arts." A scream tore at Avdren's throat as the pain intensified, dropping him to both knees. "And due to that knowledge, I know what happens to a wizard if someone, say, lights their spell book aflame while they're still bonded to it? Oh yes, it's excruciating, isn't it?" The man circled him as he spoke, gleefully leaning in to whisper the last sentence. "You very well might Snap. What a terrible thing." He put a boot to Avdren's back and gave a light push. The floor rushed toward him as he fell. He couldn't move his arms to stop it. Every muscle was locked in torment. He barely felt the wooden planks slam into his face. "Yes, my friend. I think you will. Unfortunately for you, you would have died anyway, eventually. My employer knows your family's little secret and why your parents hoarded all this magic." Tears flooded Avdren's eyes. It felt like someone was driving an icy, cold spike into the back of his skull. He coughed, choking on bile and drooling onto the floor. He barely heard the footsteps as the man walked away.
"Richter, leave the book upstairs to burn and come down here!" The man called out. "The other lads are keeping the street clear, but we need to load the wagon now." Footsteps echoed as another man came down from the second floor. Avdren heard the sound of glass breaking and the door bar being lifted. "Oh yes, Avdren. By the way. You won't remember my name. No one ever does. Still, though, you might as well have something to remember me by, if you wake up." Rough hands rolled him onto his back, and a sharp pain exploded in his left eye. Avdren passed out to the sound of laughter echoing in his mind.