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The first sign of trouble was that there was no first sign. Rasmodius had been expecting his wards to catch the entry of the new farmer into town that spring morning. He spent little time in town, but Yarn had been the only thing anyone would discuss for weeks now. He knew their arrival date.
So when nothing came, he was surprised, but shrugged it off. Perhaps Yarn had changed their mind.
It was a shock to overhear Lewis talking to Marnie about the new farmer as they walked by the forest a few days later. Rasmodius gave up his search for the elusive mushroom he needed to tail the two of them. From them he learned that Yarn had arrived exactly on time, and seemed to be taking to their new life with ease, despite the fact that their behavior was often alien to the townsfolk.
The next day he checked and double checked each of his wards, but found nothing amiss. His trip to visit the farmer himself finally gleaned answers.
The entire farm was now heavily warded. He could spot hastily scrawled spells on wooden posts at each of the entrances, and warding symbols littered the trees around the property. He was tempted to brute force the issue, but caution held him back and paid off shortly. The spells hid layers of brutal defenses - everything from summoned golems to raging fires.
He scowled. An experienced, wary spellcaster taking up residence in his lands could only lead to trouble.
It was seconds later that he heard the approaching footsteps. They were measured, unhurried as they crunched over the dirt and gravel on the other side of the ward line.
The farmer came into view and he stiffened. White skin, glowing blue eyes, and an aura of winter. It had been a very long time since he'd faced a foe like this.
The revenant observed him. He stared back. Spells hung on his tongue, fingertips ready to cast as it stepped forward-
-And cut through the warding symbols to allow him inside before bowing deeply.
"Forgive the intrusion," it rasped, voice painful on his ears. "The land was gifted to me by blood, and circumstances prevented me from securing your permission to enter."
He studied the farmer warily, stepping past the boundary.
"You are no revenant." His words were blunt - he had no patience for pleasantries and small talk.
They nodded, head still bowed in respect. "Life remained in my body when I was revived. My heart beats, albeit slowly. I am more familiar than revenant."
"Familiars do not often wander on their own."
"Familiars do not often survive the discorporation of their masters. Luckily, I did."
Ah. "Your master was Bezel."
"Indeed, but I am not here for her hat."
"No? Then why?" he scoffed.
"Two years from now, she will come for me. I must be prepared."
"You would fight her?"
"I would kill her, for crimes against myself and my family, and to secure my freedom."
At that, he laughed. "You expect me to believe you can kill her? Even weakened it took all I had to discorporate her. What chance does a familiar stand against such power?"
"None, unless they have a teacher of great power and knowledge."
He scowled. "You invade my territory, circumvent my wards, and have the audacity to demand I tutor you?"
"No demand, only a sincere request. I am an experienced apothecary, caster, and I am skilled with a sword and bow. I would gladly gather whatever you require in exchange for tutelage."
"And what makes you think I require such a thing?" he asked, even as his old bones protested the long travel of yesterday and his back ached from lifting his cauldron a week ago.
"I can pay. In gold or in items."
"What do I gain from having you so close to my home?"
"My aid and loyalty. It would also be no problem for you to monitor my activities if I am closeby."
Rasmodius kept his expression stern as he turned their argument over in his head. It was a good offer, a great offer even, but not worth having another's familiar so closeby.
"Bring me one hundred void essence by the end of seven days and then we may discuss an apprenticeship. If you cannot then do not let me see you again." With that, he vanished, confident he had dealt with the problem permanently. They had been in the area only a week and a half. It was impossible to meet his demand.
Precisely seven days later, just as the dusk was slipping into true night, there came a knock on his door. Already alerted to Yarn's presence he flung open the door, prepared to send them bodily from his home for their failure.
Instead he caught their staggering form as they fell through the threshold. They smelled of the mines, of dirt and metal and decay. Their hands were blistered and bleeding, one wrist badly swollen while the rest of their body was littered with cuts, bites, and burns. Their clothes hung in indecent tatters from their frame.
He practically dropped them to the floor before kicking his door shut, livid at the intrusion. "I believe I told you not to show yourself to me again unless you had the essence I requested," he snapped.
Breathing hard, blood now dripping onto his floors - and he was not cleaning that up, thank you, they would do so before he shoved them right back out of his door - Yarn took their backpack from their shoulders and held it out to him. Frowning, he took it. Inside were ten carefully bottled glass jars, each glimmering with the slick purple of void essence.
Rasmodius felt his eye bug out of his skull. "How- !?"
"Potions of vitality. I am well trained with a sword." Yarn's voice was, somehow, even more rough than before, cracking mid-sentence.
He studied them then, more carefully than before. There was power in those lean muscles, in the tight lines of their stomach and thighs. Their wounds were healing slowly as he watched, the smaller ones beginning to scab over as the larger slowed their bleeding. The eyes that tracked his movements were sharp and wary even in their exhaustion.
He set the bag down on the floor and stood over Yarn. "I expect perfection from my students, and I will not tolerate failure."
"Of course, sir."
"That is master to you, apprentice."
Yarn's eyes gleamed in satisfaction. "Yes Master."