The Illusionist and the Goblin Princess

By James Greene

The chaos of life seemed too much for the illusionist Tenn Peller. Everyone sees him as a trickster and a con artist, and when he finally fulfills his teacher's dying wish, his past creates a misunderstanding that causes everyone to see him as a freak. However, before he decides to live the rest of his life alone, he meets someone who fills his life with even more chaos, but this time it doesn't seem so bad. Will Tenn finally find happiness, or will the world's chaos ruin his life for good?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Sep 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9780228894575

Book preview

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Chapter One

What do you mean I’m not getting paid? In a small town of wood, gears, and steam in the Earldom of Makina, Tenn Pellar, a young man in a navy-blue coat and pointed hat, had thought these adventurers were honest sorts. They had treated him kindly and were as polite as possible, and they didn’t want to make a scene in the town square with all the people passing through, but Tenn is still taken aback at their change in tune now that the job is done.

Well, you didn’t do anything, a woman in garb of leather robes and wooden pauldrons explains. So why should we pay you?

What? But I did! Tenn says, defending himself. I was the one who kept those gnolls distracted. You could only finish them off because they were freaking out on the floor.

Yes, we admit that made things easier, says a tall green man with sharp tusks. But that’s all it did. You saved us some time but we didn’t have a time limit, so letting us finish the job faster wasn’t a great contribution.

And before you start talking about how you used your ‘talents’ to calm down the kidnapped women, a man with short, pointed ears and a guitar strapped to his back continues, that just ended up making things harder for us later. They were upset with us for letting that happen. Messing with people’s heads like that . . . it’s not right.

No, they weren’t. You just wanted to hit on those girls, Tenn says. All I did was make them less likely to panic. You’re only upset that I ensured we kept this professional.

So, as you can see, the tusked one finishes, ignoring Tenn’s protests, you don’t have any right to our money, as you didn’t do enough work.

Tenn wants to keep arguing. He yearns to tell these people off but he knows that’s what they want. He’s been through this situation many times before. So, he takes a deep breath and tells them, Fine, but I hope you’re ready for the consequences. He turns and walks off.

Man, the bard sighs, why did we give that lazy bum a chance?

He said he was a high-level spellcaster, the orcish fighter says. It’s rare for illusionists to get that strong, so I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I’m sorry about this. He bows. My poor judgment almost got us scammed out of our money.

Oh, don’t blame yourself, the leather-clad druid assures him. I fell for his lies too.

Can you believe that guy? the bard chuckles. "Going on about consequences. What’ll he do? Surround us with imaginary knights and—what’s this mark on my hand? The bard notices a glowing red blemish on his palm. The other two notice the same on their hands. Upon closer inspection, they see the word dealbreaker," as if someone has written it with red paint.

Dealbreaker? What’s this about? the druid asks.

Now that I think of it, that guy made us all sign something before we set out on the job, the bard remembers. A magic contract.

You mean the things that curse you? the druid says.

It’s OK, guys, the fighter reassures them. He’s the one that didn’t fulfill his end of the bargain, so we’re— Before he can finish, the red word produces jagged lines that grow up their arms like strangling vines and reach their heads. They wrap around their faces and vanish. See, we’re fine.

Ah! Fire! I’m on fire! the druid screams.

What? the fighter asks, concerned for his friend. No, you’re not. Calm down.

Bees! the bard shouts. They’re everywhere! Get them off me! He waves his arms around to drive away the unseen insects.

Calm down. There are no bees. What are you talking abou— The fighter stops abruptly and stares at nothing. Sadness spreads across his face. Father? No, come back, Father. I’m not a failure. I’m telling you I’m not. Please don’t abandon me!

And so, the three dealbreakers are subjected to their worst fears until they have paid what they owe to Tenn. As people walk by, they think the three are street performers until the bard draws his sword to kill the bees.

Tenn Pellar, as you can see, is used to being scammed. Among the first things he learned in his training were the three main illusions of the world: time, reality, and control. So even if he has people sign a contract for his services, hoping they’ll stay sincere, they usually try to screw him over. Of course, he punishes anyone who does but that only makes him look like a sore loser and a confidence trickster. The town guards of many places Tenn has been to have often come to him about the complaints, but they always back off once he shows them proof he did no wrongdoing. Not that they do so willingly. Tenn often hears them complain that he’s using loopholes to get away with tricking people. But he has never done such a thing—he always gives people exactly what he promises.

Not that such things matter to the everyday villager or townsperson. He is a half-rate con artist who always gets away with it, as far as they are concerned. The number of people willing to form a party with him has dwindled to single digits. Tenn is used to this. He’s been at this job for twenty years—not long for an elf like him, but enough time to get used to the scorn.

Sitting in Westgear’s Jury-Rig Tavern, Tenn looks at his reflection in the window while waiting for his meal. Although it’s hard to see against his violet skin, the bags under his golden eyes show how tired he is. He can hardly remember to comb his silver hair. Though still resembling standard magician’s attire, his pointed hat, pants, and trench coat are tattered and patched here and there. None of this is his fault. It’s the outcome of how people perceive him when they find out he’s an illusionist.

Illusionists have certain reputations. The one following him around right now is that he is full of trickery. That’s not entirely a lie, but Tenn doesn’t use his illusions to trick honest folks out of their money. He only uses them to fight and be helpful to people. But therein lies the other reputation illusionists have: they can’t engage in battle the same way other magicians can. Tenn can fight, even if it’s not directly, but this idea stems from the fact that almost all the magic illusionists learn doesn’t damage directly. They can gain this power later, but only if they have the talent for higher-tier spells, and Tenn does not. If he keeps working at it, he thinks, he can probably reach the tier just before it, but that’s not what people consider an asset. Tenn knows this but he keeps on keeping on. He doesn’t understand why but doesn’t think too hard about it. He has more pressing problems anyway.

After a cheap meal he hears a commotion outside. He looks out the nearby window and sees a crowd gathered in the square, an ocean of people rocking the streets, moving forward in currents of enthusiasm. Tenn calls the waitress and asks what’s going on. Oh, some famous adventurer came to town, she tells him. They defeated an ancient lich.

Well, that is impressive, Tenn responds in a monotone. He’s not that interested. An ancient lich is praiseworthy to defeat, as the longer they live, the more powerful they grow. Tenn can count on one hand the number of people who’ve done so, but it’s not likely he’ll end up in that position with how life is going for him. What’s this adventurer’s name? Tenn asks, feigning interest and sipping his tea.

I heard one of the customers say it was Silvia . . . Ravenedge, I think.

Tenn spits his tea but catches it with his hand, saving it from being wasted. Silvia! Seriously? he asks after putting the tea back in his mouth and swallowing.

Yes, the waitress says, puzzled.

Tenn looks outside and sees another elf with violet skin and silver hair. She’s dressed in leather armour and wears a blue and black hood and cloak. I found her, he says, excited. He quickly leaves money for his meal on the table and runs outside.

Wait, sir! You gave me too much money!

Keep the rest as a tip!

The waitress looks at the two silver coins. It’s about twenty percent higher than his bill.

Wow, the waitress exclaims. He must have been too excited to think straight. Maybe he’s one of her fans.

No, Tenn is not one of Silvia’s fans; this is personal. Until twenty years ago he was taught magic by Artorius, a man recognized by the magical community as an arch-mage. He educated Tenn on everything he knows about magic and even helped him control one of Tenn’s . . . personal issues. However, Artorius was just a human with a human’s short lifespan. Near the end of his education Tenn was 142 years old. He was halfway through adolescence by elf standards, but Artorius was ninety and soon the end came. Artorius didn’t have many regrets. The only thing he wanted from Tenn was to tell the only other student he ever had that he forgives her. Tenn never learned what that meant, but he did know that the student’s name was Silvia Ravenedge.

For the last twenty years Tenn had searched for this senior student to fulfill his master’s dying wish. It seems like a long time, but adventurers move around a lot and Tenn also had to contend with the people’s perception of illusionists causing money problems, which slowed him down. Thankfully elves can live for 1700 years, so twenty years is nothing.

He can hopefully speak with Silvia today, but now that she’s a famous lich slayer it complicates things. The crowd had swallowed her by the time he got outside. Whenever a break in the group appeared again, it would fill in before Tenn could get there.

This is getting me nowhere, Tenn says. No choice then. He backs away from the crowd to the minimum safe distance and works his magic. He calculates the best result to cause the mana in the air to react as desired. After Tenn finishes, he waves his hand, whispers the keyword "Invisibilitatem" and vanishes. He must be careful because the spell’s effect will end if someone touches him. If he is caught by the guards sneaking around invisibly, they’ll take him away on the assumption of being a thief or a peeping tom. Tenn didn’t want to deal with that today.

He walks around the crowd, waiting to catch Silvia alone. He dodges and weaves through the excited people until Silvia says she has to get moving. This is Tenn’s chance. He carefully walks towards her, avoiding the crowd’s enthusiastic dancing. One big guy is waving his arms around like a maniac. Luckily Tenn reacts instinctively, dodging before he gets smacked in the face. Tenn and Silvia manage to escape the crowd, and he finally gets a look at her. She has a lighter violet complexion than Tenn but the same silver hair, a distinctive look for elves born in winter on a clear day. She’s wearing light silver armour, which confuses Tenn as non-magical metal tends to interfere with higher-tier spells.

Silvia stretches her arms and says, Man, this attention can get annoying sometimes. Maybe I could charge a toll for a meet and greet. She chuckles. Maybe next time. I should find the others before they get worried. Tenn looks around—no one is there other than the two of them. Just as Tenn is about to remove his invisibility spell and talk to her, she says, But first, I know you’re there. She turns to look where Tenn is. Show yourself.

Tenn complies. I expected nothing less from you. We did learn from the same guy, after all.

We did? she asks, raising an eyebrow. If so, what’s his name? She asks this coyly—a test.

Artorius Ambercromby, Tenn replies. Arch-Mage Artorius wasn’t a fan of his family name. They had a falling out, so he only told it to his most trusted acquaintances: you and me.

And what did he like to eat? Silvia asks.

Do I have to say it? Tenn asks with a look of disgust. The fact that he made me cook it for him every week still makes me sick. I’m only glad he didn’t make me eat it. Neither could understand how Artorius could eat haggis that much without getting sick.

That’s fine. It’s enough, Silvia assures him, not wanting to relive those memories herself. Final question: what’s in my pocket? She asks this with a mischievous smile.

A ring made of fool’s gold that a gem merchant claimed would turn you invisible. This was a password to trick those who weren’t students. There is no actual ring, but Artorius based it on an old legend from long ago and changed the answer to make it harder to figure out.

So, you did learn under him. I figured he wouldn’t do it again. Silvia gestures to a nearby bench. Do you want to talk?

Tenn examines the bench. It’s large enough to provide a space between them, but he still feels nervous. Sure, he says reluctantly.

They take their seats. Tenn makes sure there is a respectful distance between them. Silvia speaks first. So, how is he? Has he taken on other students or . . .

I’m sorry, but the master passed away. Tenn has decided to be blunt about this. It took him so long to find her, and his growing discomfort makes him want to finish this quickly.

What? This sad news hits Silvia in the face. It takes her a few moments to process. I-I didn’t even know he was sick. When did he die?

Twenty years ago, Tenn answers. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.

I see. Silvia is distraught but not angry, only disappointed in herself for not finding out sooner. Looks like I’ll have to visit his grave and offer gratitude for everything. Great, this means fewer chances to make money. She says the last part in an incoherent mumble. Tenn doesn’t catch it and asks her to repeat it. Oh, it’s nothing. Did he say anything about me?

He told me to give you a message. Tenn takes a breath. He will finally deliver Artorius’s message and won’t have a reason to talk to her anymore. He said, ‘I forgive you.’

Silvia looks confused. Forgive me? For what?

I don’t know, Tenn replies, upset that she doesn’t know. Master couldn’t tell me before he died. Tenn is insulted that this girl doesn’t even remember the slight the master forgave. Still, it was a long time ago, so Tenn decides to give her the benefit of the doubt and help her remember. All right, try to think back. Did you do anything to insult him when you trained under him?

I don’t think so. I was only with him for a year, so I don’t think there was enough time to—

Wait, a year? Tenn can’t believe what he’s hearing. He doesn’t care how talented someone is, there is no way they can quickly learn enough magic to be considered a magician in only one year. Did you not have enough talent, so you raged at him for being unable to teach you? Artorius had told Tenn he’d never fully master illusions. He chose to pursue it anyway because it was the magic he was the most talented at.

Oh, gods, no, Silvia chuckles. he told me I could potentially reach the seventh tier. I just chose not to.

This isn’t something Tenn can handle. This girl could have become a much better magician than him, but she gave that up. Are you kidding me? My maximum potential is tier six, and you chose to give up when you can go a tier higher? Why?

Hey, calm down, she says. I get what you’re saying but hear me out. I’d have kept at it if it were something like elementalism, biomancy, or even if I were just a regular, plain old universalist.

Oh, it was probably necromancy, Tenn thinks, feeling bad for blowing up at her. Since it is illegal in most places, necromancy isn’t something acolytes want to hear that they are talented with.

But it was just the school of illusion, she clarifies. The only way to make money from that is to trick people. I’m not going to risk getting arrested. I don’t have time for that.

Tenn has officially lost all patience. Even if she didn’t mean to, Silvia has insulated Tenn’s livelihood and declared she never wanted to try. He’s not going to take that lying down. "Do you realize I’m an illusionist?"

Oh, she says coldly, looking at him with pity. If you want my advice, give up and learn to do something with your hands. Illusion isn’t worth risking your sanity over.

Tenn can’t take it anymore. Sludge off!

Excuse me?

You heard me, sludge off. And I bite my thumb at you! I can’t believe I treated you with any civility. Is this why there aren’t many illusionists? Because they run away when people tell them illusion is where they are most talented? I’m not giving up the one thing I’m the best at because of how people see it. This magic is all I have. Tenn stands up to leave. Good luck with your delusions of inferiority. I’m going to make something of myself and prove everyone wrong. He starts to walk away.

Whoa, hold on. Silvia grabs Tenn’s arm and he freezes, staring at her hand. You can’t just insult me for no reason and—

Tenn shoves her away and she falls to the ground. Don’t you touch me. Don’t you dare touch me, sick freak. I won’t let you hurt me.

Silvia stares up at Tenn in disgust. What the . . .? Ugh, forget this. Don’t come near me again, you psycho, she says and storms off in a huff.

Once he calms down, he places a palm on his face and sighs. Damn it. I did it again. He knows he could have handled that better. He could have just said nothing and left, but he isn’t the type to stay quiet when insulted. People like that party from earlier are one thing. He’s used to that but hearing it from a fellow illusionist set him off. What makes it worse is his fear of the fairer sex. He never gets a chance to apologize since it always ends this way. I’m sorry, he says to the sky as he returns to the inn.

The next day everyone avoids him. Tenn knows precisely why. Once again the person he freaked out at told people about it and now they think he’s a freak. Usually he would pack his things and move on to the next town, but he has no reason now. He has been looking for Silvia for the last twenty years. Now that he’s delivered his message, he doesn’t care. What he does care about is that other adventurers won’t let him join their parties. They won’t blacklist him, but the guild will probably warn everyone about him. Especially newcomers.

However, even if Tenn does move house he’s already been to most towns and cities in NOA. He’s been to the Hexhaven Barony, Draculstien County, the Marquisdom of Kelt and now the Earldom of Makina. The only place he hasn’t set up shop is the provincial capital of Makina Hills. After that he’ll have to move to another country . . . again.

You know what? No! Tenn has had enough of this. He doesn’t care anymore. If no one wants to help him, he won’t ask for help. From now on he’s walking solo. He enters a two-storey wooden building near the town centre, the