Read Ways of Power 1: Power Rises for Free Online

him and his power, but did not know him personally. They tended to shun and fear him.
    Rancoth much preferred to stick with either small groups of people who knew him well, or with complete strangers. When he was not with the close friends and family of the tower, he spent his time in the far reaches of the city, in obscure locales, where he could blend in with the rest of society.
    Already some of the people on the stairs were pointing at him and whispering behind their hands. Rancoth shook his head, pitying those who chose to fear what they did not understand. As a boy it had frightened, depressed, and finally angered him. Luckily for him, he had Grecrum's calm wisdom to help focus and channel that anger.
    He would never forget the time that two boys, both illusionists, had teased and ridiculed him, conjuring huge, grotesque images of what they thought of as demons, sending them to chase him around in the street. Rancoth had been about eleven, and they were both older, around thirteen.
    At the time Rancoth was still practicing summoning a small relatively harmless rodent-like demon . Karakas would not allow him to summon anything that was more powerful or sentient until he could fully control the mindless little demon . He knew full well the power of the demons he could summon, and he also knew his own limitations at controlling them.
    Rancoth would not go against Karakas' wishes. Instead he had run, crying, back to the tower, straight into Jurile's arms. She dealt with the cruel children, and took him straight to Grecrum. Grecrum sat him down, and explained the importance of having patience, understanding, and temperance with those who would seek to hurt him for the fear they felt of him.
    In response to the whispers of the crowd, Rancoth smiled, waved and gave them a hearty, "Good morning! I hope your day is a glorious one. May you, and yours be blessed." This of course resulted in a new flurry of conversation. Rancoth smiled, and went down the great marble steps to the city streets below.
    Even though the tower was already starting to gather a crowd, the majority of the city was still just waking up. Rancoth wandered south along T-Fifty, the main causeway and center-most tower road, admiring the different houses and shops. All were built from some form of stone and wood, most with a hint of white coloring to them.
    The main streets were cobblestone, and provided easy access to those with horse-drawn carts or carriages. There were few trees in the city, except in the Healers’ Quarter, but that was not the direction Rancoth was going. His feet were taking him to the Physicalist quarter. Out of tired habit, and without thinking, Rancoth would inevitably end up at Dorbin's smithy.
     

7
     
    After a few blocks Rancoth turned left down P-Four. Now that he was facing east, he had to put his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, which had crested the horizon. The glare made it difficult to see where he was going, but his feet knew where to take him. After passing three shops, he came to a halt at a moderately sized white stone building.
    There was thick smoke rising from the chimney, and the dark wooden door was in need of repair. Above the door was a wooden sign, adorned with an intricately carved interwove n D S flanked on either side by stylized Dwalish hammers. Th e D S stood for Dorbin's Smithy, and the hammers noted the Dwalish style of the craftsman within.
    Rancoth opened the door, which groaned a loadly on its rusted hinges, accompanied by the soft tinkling of bells to announce to the proprietor the entrance of a customer. 
    "I'll be wit ya in a moment," came the gruff, and heavily accented greeting from the next room. Rancoth took the time to look around. Adorning the walls were various sets of armor, shields and weapons, all of various sizes and types, and all superb workmanship. Everyone knew that Dorbin was the finest smithy in all of Light Magi territory; his shields the most impenetrable, his blades never