Fairytale for Wizards Vol. 1 (novel): Fairytale for Wizards, #1

By Eun Soro

A cursed twin. A miserable existence. A single opportunity.

 

Azriel was an unwanted child, forever living in the shadow of her twin brother. He was the only one who loved her, yet a tragic event ripped them apart, and Azriel wound up the slave of an abusive and cruel master. She was left to suffer for years, her only companion a single friend in a mansion full of hostility and hate.

 

One day, Azriel's life takes an unexpected turn when she encounters a mysterious white-haired young man in town who inquires about her well-being. His gaze holds no trace of malice, and his voice carries a familiarity that tugs at her soul. Later, the same enigmatic figure arrives at the mansion where she works. Without explanation, he whisks her away to a world of magic.

 

Azriel is left to wonder why. Why has she finally been rescued after all this time? Who is this man? And why does his mere presence fill her with long-forgotten warmth?

 

True magic knows no boundaries, capable of changing destinies that have been written in the stars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Astral Rabbit
• Release date: Aug 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781954707009

Book preview

ACT 1: THE GIRL AND THE WIZARD

It is common for people not to remember events from when they were younger, but Azriel Esthera’s childhood memories were crystal clear. She could recall what her mother used to say to her while she was barely learning how to crawl.

Twins! How ominous! If only Benhiram was born alone… Why was this thing born?

The memory of her mother’s eyes, which seemed to convey disgust for the filth clinging to her son, was vivid enough for her to draw them.

She could also clearly remember the expression her father made when he would kick her.

This thing needs to die quickly. You are a parasite sucking up your brother’s luck.

Azriel had an unnecessarily good memory. In the village in the northern, minor territories where she was born, twins were considered sinister beings who shared one another’s luck. Since she was born after her twin brother, she was considered nothing more than a curse that would bring him misfortune. For that reason, her parents had not even wanted to name her.

I don’t believe in such things.

Benhiram, her twin, was the only one who was kind to her.

You are nothing like a curse, her brother would say, with the same golden eyes and the same black hair as her. You are my sister—the sister I should protect. So, I’ll give you a name.

Then, there was a war. Their village was burned to the ground, and their parents perished. Only the twins survived, and they fled. Even though everyone else had died, Azriel was fine because she was with Benhiram. Her brother was her only family anyway.

Not too long after, however, he passed as well. The name he had given her also died with him. She was only seven years old and completely alone, roaming around as an orphan without a name.

She had become accustomed to sleeping in a corner in a back alley when, one day, she suddenly woke up in a huge, soft bed.

You are ten years old, Miss. The person who named you appointed us as your guardians.

A couple with friendly smiles introduced themselves as her new guardians.

I am ten… years old? And there is a person who... named me? asked Azriel.

Oh my, don’t you remember?

She could not remember a single thing. Her memories from between ages seven and ten had disappeared. Even though she normally had an unnecessarily clear memory, she could not remember the past three years of her life—as if they had been painted black.

You don’t even know your name? the couple asked.

My name…

There was only one thing she did remember: a man’s low and soft voice ringing in her ears like a tune.

Azriel Esthera, the voice sang as a dazzling and peaceful light covered her, let this be your name.

Her new guardians had no knowledge of what transpired during the three, lost years in her memory. They did not answer her no matter how many times she asked. Nevertheless, they were very kind to her. At their mansion, Azriel enjoyed a luxurious life unlike anything she had experienced before, but this lasted for only one year.

This child, she must’ve been abandoned for sure.

The couple was after Azriel’s enormous wealth. She was only 11 and unable to protect herself from her guardians who were blinded by greed. Despite the various safeguards that had been put in place to protect her, it did not take long for the couple to take over her wealth and sell her into slavery.

As a slave, Azriel was sold and traded to and fro. The top of her foot was branded by fire. She tried to run several times, only to be caught and whipped. Around the time she learned to give up, a merchant purchased her. He noticed that her appearance was quite outstanding, so he washed and dressed her well and taught her basic etiquette. Then he sold her to the family of Count Colte in the Kingdom of Aucandor to be used as a whipping child. She was 12 at the time.

When a child of high esteem would misbehave or neglect his studies, a whipping child would be subjected to receive whippings in his place. Royalty normally selected whipping children from the aristocracy while ordinary aristocratic families used commoners or slaves.

Count Colte had a daughter around Azriel’s age whom he bought her for. His daughter, Deborah Colte, was a beautiful girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, but she was stupid and arrogant. She would sleep during her lessons, neglect her work, and mock and insult her tutors. Sometimes, she would even throw her ink bottle at them. Not a single tutor lasted more than half a year with the Colte family.

The Count’s cherished daughter took her whipping child for granted, though she would feel embarrassed whenever the girl was shown to others. The scars on her whipping child exposed evidence of her stupidity and laziness, so Deborah started to work a little harder than before and ordered them not to beat her whipping child on her face, arms, and legs—any place that would be visible to others.

Nonetheless, not a day would pass without red welts and bruises covering the skin of Azriel’s back beneath her shirt. She was forced to endure and hide her pain since Deborah would starve her if she displayed her suffering because it would embarrass her. Whenever she was in pain, Azriel would turn to her thoughts.

The person who named me will come to find me someday, she believed. He must be a very strong and tender person. He must have been upset that I lost my memory and left for a little while. He didn’t abandon me. He should be worried sick about me and might even be anxiously looking for me by now. He will find me and rescue me from here.

Those were difficult days. Every time Deborah had a class, Azriel was whipped. Other times, she was made to run small errands and do chores. She had become a whipping child with slave origins whose hands were always rough and back constantly coarse with scars. Four years passed like that. The once enduring feeling of being someday saved by the light slowly faded. Nobody came to rescue the girl.

In the spring of the Iskam Calendar year 996, the girl turned 16. She had long abandoned her faith by then, but the hope she had let go of came true in a way different from what she had ever imagined.

The day had been awful since the morning. It was common for Deborah to neglect her homework or insult her tutor, but the tutor’s anger was excessive today. Azriel’s back was covered in blood from having been whipped over 30 times that day. Even after all the beatings, the tutor was still furious and left, fuming.

Don’t pretend it hurts, Deborah said, slapping Azriel’s face as Azriel staggered.

Are you going to embarrass me?

Yes, My Lady, Azriel answered.

...You are such a shame.

Deborah glared at her in dissatisfaction and left the room.

Azriel then organized Deborah’s books and writing supplies before returning to her own room, which was a space in the corner of a liquor cellar divided from the rest of the basement by a plank. It was always dark, damp, cold, and filled with dirt. To Azriel—whose body was already weak from constant whippings, starvation, and abuse—it was an extremely harmful environment.

She coughed incessantly as she opened a rusty bottle. The smell of cheap ointment filled the small space. Given that it was such a crude ointment, it did not have much of an effect on her wounds, but it was better than nothing. Azriel undid her shirt and rubbed the ointment on her back, already accustomed to putting it on spots that were normally hard to reach.

As she dexterously treated her back, she focused her ears on the sounds coming from the ceiling. Above her room was the hallway between the kitchen and the pantry.

Quick, move faster! Do you understand who’s visiting tomorrow? If he doesn’t like you, all of you might turn into frogs!

She could clearly hear the head maid’s loud voice. The other maids giggled as they busily carried on with their tasks. Azriel had heard about the guest who would be visiting the castle tomorrow. They said that a great wizard from the capital was coming.

In legends and tales of history past, wizards were described as being able to call down lightning, split the ground, turn the tide of war, and even fight dragons. Such stories were fairy tales now. Most wizards these days were more similar in ability to healers or craftsmen—treated with higher regard, of course. Even petty wizards were capable of ‘communicating’. Wizards had the unique ability to send and receive messages to and from one another regardless of the distance between them. Delivering information through the wizards’ communication system was so important to the foundation of the nation that it was directly managed by the kingdom.

The wizard who would be visiting the castle tomorrow was rumored to be in an entirely different class from other wizards. He was closer in ability to the wizards of legend than the ordinary wizards found in every village. Someone like him did not normally visit the countryside, but he must have been coming to investigate the ruins that were recently discovered on the Colte estate.

What? yelled the head maid. Did we run out of butter? What on earth were you doing instead of checking on such basic things?! Maylie, go buy some butter, quickly!

Head Maid, you sent Maylie to organize the parlor because they were short-handed.

Oh, that’s right. Then, who else is left?

We’d all be short-handed even if we had four hands. Oh, isn’t Lady Deborah’s class over? I saw Tutor Carter’s carriage leaving!

Look at the time! the head maid screamed in irritation. It must have ended a while ago already. Where is that d*mn little girl Azriel idling around at?

Startled, Azriel sprang up from her bed. She hastily rubbed the rest of the ointment off her fingers and onto her apron as she ran. Hearing the head maid’s steps thumping above her head, she raced up the stairs.

Head Maid, she called, were you looking for me?

You! the heavy-framed head maid frowned at the thin girl at the end of the stairs. You were messing around again!

Azriel hurriedly bowed.

The count took in a slave girl like you, fed you, raised you, and even made you a commoner, yet you don’t know how to be grateful, do you? You can’t do anything right except look for a chance to loaf around!

No, I was just putting some ointment on my back…

What kind of excuse is that? the head maid ground her knuckles against Azriel’s head. Don’t whine about getting whipped a few times, you sloppy girl!

Azriel relented and shut her mouth. No matter what she said, the head maid would only grow angrier. As the head maid had said, Azriel was no longer a slave, though not because the Count had been merciful. The King of Aucandor had pushed to abolish slavery. When that happened, Count Colte destroyed Azriel’s slave certificate with displeasure. He then instead made a contract of indentured servitude after increasing her ransom dozens of times.

You should pay back the money I paid to buy you, don’t you think? The extra is interest.

Azriel’s debt amounted to a million pels. Since her wage as a commoner was only 500 pels a month, that meant she needed to work for 167 years to pay off her debt. It was never meant to be paid off. Count Colte even said that he would sooner deduct her wages than pay her anything. He had no intention of letting her go or even paying her properly. This kind of practice was now commonplace in Aucandor following the abolishment of slavery.

The brand on Azriel’s foot, however, still remained. Though she was now a commoner on paper, the mark would not disappear, both from reality and from people’s knowledge.

All the servants employed by the Colte estate were either other nobles or commoners from the village. Azriel, on the other hand, was a slave who did nothing but dress in finery and stand in the young lady’s room while she was in class and the others were working hard. As a result, she was bound to be hated. Since Deborah forbade her from showing her wounds in front of others, few people knew the extent of Azriel’s beatings. Without any apparent injuries, she was undoubtedly detested by others.

The head maid especially hated Azriel.

Go buy three blocks of butter now, and don’t even think about stealing a single dime, or you will be punished without mercy!

The head maid warned Azriel as she handed over several silver coins. Azriel placed them in the pocket of her apron and left the estate. She knew that she would be scolded for her laziness if she were to come back even a little late. Hastily, she crossed the garden and headed toward the rear gate.

Where are you going in such a hurry?

A man with dull blonde hair appeared from the drill hall and called to her. As soon as he saw her, he put on a peculiar smile and approached her.

Azriel quickly lowered her head, I’m going to the market for an errand, Young Master.

The man was Count Colte’s heir and Deborah’s only brother, Damon Colte. He scrutinized Azriel’s body with glistening eyes. Though she was thin and small, her sixteen-year-old body was maturing, and smooth curves were beginning to develop. Upon closer examination, he saw that her face was unbelievably beautiful—even more so than his sister who was said to be the prettiest in the land. Deborah also treated Azriel harshly for this reason and frequently slapped her across the face. It annoyed her to know that her whipping child had an unnecessarily pretty face.

She will be a stunning beauty if she dresses up properly and ages a little more. Damon smiled, smacking his lips.

If you earn my favor, you won’t have to do such things. Why don’t you serve me while I take my bath?

I’m sorry, but this is an urgent errand.

Is that more urgent than me?

Azriel took a step back and dodged Damon’s approaching hand, causing him to frown. She politely bade him farewell while grabbing the hem of her skirt.

It’s a matter of urgency. I believe the generous Young Master would understand.

As she quickly made her way to the rear gate, she could feel Damon’s sticky gaze on her back, which still ached from her burning wounds. His gaze stopped only when she was completely out of the castle. She coughed in nervousness and pressed her chest to swallow her cough. Her uneasy heart beat palpably under her hands. Damon’s attitude towards her was becoming more unusual as the days went by, and she knew exactly what it meant. How long could an orphan girl of slave origin avoid the young master’s touch?

I need to run away.

But how? And to where? Though slavery had been abolished two years ago, a girl with no guardian and bearing a brand was bound to be in danger anywhere she went. She had learned this reality as a slave. In fact, Azriel had been rather lucky. At least she had not been sold to the nobles as a nightly toy.

People could not be trusted without caution, either. There were not many who would do favors for a girl without any power or guardians to protect her for no reason. She had realized this when she was sold by the very guardians who had once smiled at her and told her to consider them her parents.

But I can’t stay here forever.

Even more dreadful events might await her even if she did manage to escape. She could very well end up regretting her decision and telling herself she was better off withstanding life with the Colte family. Knowing what could happen to someone who was left alone in the world made her even more scared and fearful. Nevertheless, she had been preparing to run away, ever since she abandoned hope that the one who had named her ‘Azriel Esthera’ would come to save her. Hidden inside a stack of straw and covered by a worn-out blanket in her room were dirty coins she had been persistently collecting for the past two years. Saving money was very difficult for someone like her—an underage girl with no wages. Even so, she had managed to collect quite a decent amount so far, but she still needed to save more until she had enough to run away and settle in another territory.

Once she arrived at the market, she bought three blocks of butter as the head maid ordered. While pocketing the change, she checked the clock hanging on the wall of the general store. Since she had been hasty, there was still some time left.

I can stop by the bookstore. I hope there’s a job for me.

While clutching the paper bag containing the butter, she slipped into an alley deeper in the market. A bookstore with a rusty sign sitting in a secluded spot came into view. At the entrance, old books were piled up precariously high as if they would fall at any moment.

Welcome, Azriel, an old, bespectacled man greeted her as she passed through the piles of books.

Hello, Grandpa Warden.

You are just in time. I have a job for you.

A smile appeared on his wrinkled mouth as Warden handed her a package and an old book. Azriel received the items with a beam.

I just need to write it in Limble again, right?

Yes. Bring it back when you’re done. I’ll give you five silver coins in exchange.

Limble was the most widely used written language in the continent and generally used by commoners. People of higher rank usually used Lemm, an older form, rather than Limble. Lemm was also used for official documents within the kingdom and as a general text to communicate between two countries that spoke different languages. For that reason, precious books tended to be written in Lemm instead of Limble.

Azriel had been saving the money she earned from translating texts from Lemm into Limble. Since not many people knew Lemm, it was a fair-paying job. Five silver coins per book was about the same as the monthly wage set by Count Colte. Under normal circumstances, her wages should have been at least a hundred silver coins, but there was no way Count Colte would ever pay her that much.

I will bring it back within a week.

"That soon?’

It’s not even that thick, Azriel said plainly as she eyed the book in her hand.

How incredible, Warden admired her softly. I’ve been seeing you for a while, but I still can’t believe it. For God’s sake, where did you learn Lemm?

Well… Frankly, I’m not sure.

You say that every time. Psshh. Just say you don’t want to tell me.

It’s true. I have been able to read it for some time.

Huh. It’s not a language that anyone can learn so easily. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that a young woman like you—who is neither a wizard nor an aristocrat—knows it.

I know, she smiled vaguely. Amazing, isn’t it?

Lemm was a complex language that was difficult to learn. It had existed since ancient times—even before Iskam the Great. It was nearly extinct as a spoken language, which made it even harder to learn. Only the written form remained in use today. Even Count Colte, an aristocrat, could only stumble through it with the help of a dictionary by his side. The Countess and Damon barely managed to memorize its alphabet. As for Deborah, she had already given up on learning Lemm. Azriel, on the other hand, had been able to read Lemm since she was young. Not only could she read it but she could also use it as freely as Limble. To be more precise, she realized she had suddenly become fluent when she was ten.

Since I didn’t even know how to read Limble when I was young, I probably mastered it during the three years that I can’t recall. What in the world happened to me?

She then wondered why she could not remember the process of learning Lemm when she could read the text so vividly. She sighed softly. The mystery perplexed her, but she was not idle enough to ponder over it too deeply. Azriel put an end to her wandering thoughts and hid the book and package well in the inner pocket in the lining of her apron.

I should go now. Thank you so much, Grandpa Warden.

I should be the one thanking you. Be careful on your way back.

She closed the door behind her as she slid back through the piles of books. Though she had been looking down at her feet as she left, she looked up in response to a weird feeling that had overcome her and met someone’s eyes between the pillars of books who stood taller than her.

They belonged to a pale man. His long, flowing, silver hair gleamed even in the shade of the alley. Pale skin, tall height, and grey eyes that resembled a cloudy sky… The white robe that covered his entire body was free of any dirt, let alone stains.

His image did not blend in at all with the unkempt surroundings. He seemed as if he had been taken out of a watercolor illustration in one of Deborah’s fairytale books and dropped into the alley. The stark contrast between him and the environment around him was heightened even more by his beautiful face, which seemed to be perfect in every way. He almost looked as if he was in a separate world even though they shared the same space. Suddenly, Azriel felt her skin crawl. She reflexively stepped back, and her body swayed as her knee caught on a pile of books.

...!

As she fell backward, the many, precariously piled books collapsed in a row, making a loud noise. Luckily, she had not been hurt because much of the weight had been supported by other, nearby books, but she was still in horrible pain. The books were pressed against her wounded back, which had not yet healed since the morning. The pain was so great that she could not even utter a groan.

What’s happen… My goodness!

Warden, who had rushed out after hearing the commotion, was surprised by the mess. He reached a hand out to help Azriel up as she struggled.

Are you not hurt? he asked.

I’m alright, but it’s my fault that your books…

Books, I can pile them up again, but how did you fall like this?

Over there… Azriel began as she lifted her head, but soon she fell speechless. The space where the pale man had been standing was empty. Nothing was there. He had been right there for certain. Was it all her imagination?

Over there? Warden repeated.

No, it’s nothing. I must have been mistaken.

While shaking her head, she picked up the bag of butter, which had been rolling on the ground. When she looked inside, she saw that the butter was slightly crushed. She automatically sighed when she thought about how the head maid would be furious with her.

How stressed you must have been to hallucinate something, Warden clicked his tongue as he patted Azriel’s shoulder. Her bony and feeble shoulder was pitiable. Be careful.

Okay, Azriel nodded with a smile as she began to pick up the fallen books. I will.

As soon as she started to stack the books again, the old man waved her off.

You’re running an errand, right? I know you are busy. You can get back on your way.

I’m the one responsible for this mess. I have this much time.

I was going to reorganize them, anyway. I can take this chance to sort them out. Go on, quickly.

But...

Don’t say anymore but go now little girl, or you will get scolded more.

...I’m sorry, Grandpa Warden.

No problem.

Azriel said her goodbyes to Warden as he waved her off and left the bookstore. Her back was still aching, but she could endure it.

Oh, I’m late. I’m in trouble.

As she scurried to turn a corner, her feet stumbled over a stone jutting out from the pavement. Her body tumbled forward as the sole of her ragged shoe snagged and ripped on the stone. With both her hands occupied with the bag of butter, she could not stretch them out to brace herself. Thinking that it was indeed a bad day, she shut her eyes. At that moment, a light and soft breeze brushed past her and tickled her cheek. Her body paused mid-fall. Then, a pair of arms approached her from behind and grabbed her waist, picking her up. They withdrew once she was righted. A scent akin to birch hovered around the tip of her nose. Azriel blankly looked back.

I wasn’t mistaken for sure.

The pale man she had seen before was standing right behind her. He was so tall that Azriel had to tilt her head back to gaze up at him.

The man saw his shadow cast over her and took a couple steps back. The sense of difference between them faded to an extent.

Th-thank you.

He stared at Azriel as she hesitated and thanked him. Then, his grey eyes, which resembled glass beads, roamed downward. They paused on the hem of her apron, which was worn out despite having been washed clean. His gaze traveled to her thin legs and the frayed soles of her shoes. His eyes shook slightly.

Why are you living like this?

His voice was deep and slow. She felt like she had heard it before. Azriel was distracted by his voice and belatedly realized that he was asking her something.

Pardon me? What did you say?"

Why are you living like this?

He could have been sarcastic, but it did not feel that way. His tone was dry, as if he was reading from a printed text. Azriel looked at him and blinked.

Do you know me?

The man shut his mouth. After a short silence, he slowly answered her, I’m not supposed to, but I do.

She could not understand him and slightly knitted her brow, Do you know me or not? Who are you?

I am Rhema Reshith.

Are you a wizard, by any chance?

Yes.

Bewitched by his strange aura, she did not quite notice until now that what the man was wearing was similar to the kinds of robes wizards normally wore. She had not heard of any new wizard moving into town.

Oh, could he be the great wizard visiting from the capital?

Azriel lowered her eyes to hide her surprise, You must be the one coming from Modjankle. Excuse me.

I didn’t come from there.

What? Then…

Can I fix the shoes?

She looked down at her feet in response to his sudden question. Her soles had nearly been torn half off after tripping on that stone.

If you don’t allow me, then I can’t do it. Give me permission.

P-permit what?

Can I fix your shoes?

My shoes? I’m grateful for your kindness, but I’m in a hurry now—yikes! Azriel began to answer him in confusion before interrupting herself with