“Quiet. The elementals are especially talkative today, and I can’t communicate with them if you insist on shuffling around.”

It was a stormy, rainy day. The Wizard always mentioned something about ‘the elementals are only accessible during awful weather such as this. I don’t expect you to understand.’ Perhaps that was what drew the farmer to him in the first place — the mysteriousness that shrouded the Wizard like a cloud of hazy mist. After all, he hardly ever shared anything about himself.

The farmer had shot him a soft sort of glare after his warning, but he didn’t seem very bothered at all. Only recently had he taken to teaching the farmer a little bit of what he knew — mystical languages mostly. That included the language of the dwarves, Junimo, and even mystical spirits that could be found around the farm. It was very helpful! It also led to the farmer lingering around the Wizard’s tower more often than he was used to. He wasn’t necessarily a social person, after all. Most of the townspeople were wary or even afraid of the Wizard. He had grown used to solitude.

At the same time, he found that the young farmer’s company wasn’t that bad. They had a spark about them that he liked, and a knack for picking up the mystic arts. They had nearly mastered the language of the Junimos!

The Wizard eventually sighed, clearly getting nowhere with the elementals as he shut his large and worn out book. It almost seemed like a large textbook or rune guide of some kind. “You’re bored, aren’t you?” He barked, setting his large book by his steaming cauldron.

When he got a nod in response, he grunted. “Very well. I suppose I’ll have to put you to work.” Perhaps he would have the farmer sort his potions for him, or go and collect more materials. The farmer was the outdoorsy type. They could handle it.