As Layonne pushed open the tavern door, he realized right away that this wasn't the usual home for ruffians and scoundrels that he was used to on the streets of Thunemon. The air in the tavern smelled of... well it didn't smell of anything at all, actually. So rarely did Layonne breathe in air that wasn't the result of spilled ale and sweat that the lack of a scent itself stung his nostrils.
As he made his way towards the corner table, selected by his proprietors as the location for their upcoming meeting, he took note of how un-sticky the floor was. That's what was odd about this place, the absence of anything that gave a tavern its character. In its place was sterility and cleanliness, all the way down to the patrons.
Layonne took a seat at the table and gazed out at the riff-raff. While there was, admittedly, a large variety of people here, they all had a particular feel about them. There were some of middling wealth, dressed in comfortable yet tight clothing. Clearly, they were the taskmasters over other folks, those hard and smelly workers one would find in nearly every other tavern in Thunemon. A group of warriors in gilded armor sat at another table drinking beer in celebration, though carefully enough not to get even a speck of alcohol on their pristine wear. There were even folk with clear ties to magic huddled together around a mountainous stack of tomes, pouring over sorceries and research silently with a crystal glass of wine at their side.
Layonne felt like he didn't belong here.
His clothes, while new and clean and free of tears, didn't have nearly the level of thought put into their design as even the lowliest of patrons in this bar. They were simple, and they would have been worse if not for the up-front payment of thirty gold he had received from the job office for the task he is here to partake in. Thirty gold at a time was new to him, and having it all at once was an incredible exercise in restraint. He was told that this money was for supplies for the job, and that a far greater sum would await him if he was able to perform his duties adequately.
Layonne gave a serving girl three silver pieces for a flagon of ale, the bitter stuff, and sat silently. He set his mind to thinking about the job he was in for, a job that he knew precious little about. He knew that he was looking out for three sorceresses, and so kept his eyes trained on the main door of the building.
Within one minute of him taking the first sip of his ale, they entered. Though Layonne had never seen these women before, he knew immediately that they must have been the ones who had posted the notice. Even among the high-class clientele in the tavern, they stood out. The three women were gorgeous, drawing the attention of the warriors who were finally distracted enough to accidentally knock a flagon over, ruining the crystal-clean look of the paladin on the far end of the table. Layonne, too, found himself transfixed by the radiant aura around them. So strong was the urge to look, that he found himself shook back to reality when one of them finally greeted him.
"Hello, are you Layonne?" the tall one with the fiery red hair said. Her eyes were the same shade of burning ember, a fire strong enough to melt your heart.
"Uhh..." Layonne began, stumbling over his words for merely a second before he managed to put on a face of vague professionalism. "Yes, I am," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "I understand that you three are in need of a Mana Supply?"
- - - - - - - - - -
For the entire length of written history, magic has been the lifeblood of the world of Freyusia. Spells are used for every conceivable purpose, from something as mundane as cleaning a house to activities as grandiose as overthrowing empires. Magic speaks to the duality of all living creatures, as some use it for personal gain and still others use it altruistically. And magic power itself is formed of a duality between those who use it, and those who can power it.
Women are the only sex that have the ability to use magic. Every woman has some small amount of natural magical ability, but those natural gifts must be honed if they want to do anything of meaning with it. From a young age, many of the wealthier families send their daughters to various academies across the world, to allow their magical prowess to grow and develop. With such power, women have found their way into the highest seats of power across the land. Nearly every queendom is ruled by a magical monarch, and at her side will always sit a high sorceress, whose power is wholly dedicated to the good of their realm. But women cannot merely use magic without spending their reserve of Mana. The more powerful the spell, the more Mana gets drained from them. While women can use Mana for their own magical purposes, they lack the ability to generate Mana on their own.
Men are the only sex that have the ability to naturally generate Mana. Unlike women, they are unable to use it. Because of this, a natural symbiosis has formed between the sexes. While women hold most of the power in the world, it is understood that without the Mana supplied by men, they would rule little more than the house they live in. Because of this, Mana is considered a highly sought after and valuable currency. While some Mana is stored and kept stocked on shelves for personal uses, the purity of Mana drains very quickly over time. Extremely powerful sorceresses must keep a supply of Mana handy in order to facilitate the use of their most potent magical spells. And that often implies hiring men to become a supply of consistent Mana for the duration of their studies.
For the Mana that is the source of all the power of all the witches and sorceresses in the world is found within the semen of men.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Three days?" Layonne asked, quizzically. That was quite a long time for one man to be the Mana Supply for even a single magic-user, nonetheless three sorceresses at once. But Azrielle, the red-headed sorceress, simply repeated her request.
"Yes, three days. We will be traveling by caravan east to Dastrodil, following the trade road until we get there. We will be taking turns coaching the carriage until we arrive, and your responsibilities will be merely to stay within the caravan and supply us with Mana if we are to come across an ambush. I am certain the lodgings will be to your liking."
Azrielle spoke with a soft but commanding grace, almost that of a princess. Layonne could feel himself being drawn in by her words, hypnotically nodding along with her suggestions before snapping himself back. "I'm not sure I'd be able to do a full three-day journey..." Layonne said, "I need to work, to make coin or else the debtors will come after me again." He subconsciously rubbed his left arm as he said this, remembering a particularly nasty scrap he had gotten in with the henchman his landlord had sent after him.
"I think you'll find that won't be a problem," said the blonde sorceress sitting to Azrielle's left. Layonne recalled her introducing herself as Daliah, before proceeding to not say another word for the entire conversation. Her movements as she reached into a small traveler's satchel were mechanical, and professional. Even the way she sat during the conversation, not moving a muscle, as if expending as little energy as was necessary, gave Layonne the idea that she was all business. Out of the bag, she pulled out a sack filled with metal, closed tightly at the top, which made a great THUD on the table, even though it was rather gently placed.
