Hearthomancy Vol. 1: A Men's Fantasy Adventure, page 1
Hearthomancy Vol. 1
M.E. Thorne
Copyright © 2023 by M.E. Thorne
Original Cover Art by Mine Mir
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
Author’s Note
Fullpage Image
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
Afterword
Books by M.E. Thorne
Author’s Note
When I decided to try my hand at a Slice of Life story, I knew it had to feature a Wizard building his Lair. The concept has always resonated with me. This book was a blast to write, I hope you enjoy it!
2023 is coming to an end, but be ready for two I Don't Want to Be the Hero omnibuses in December! I've started working on Renegade Ravager 3 for release early next year. Stay tuned for even more exciting news!
I have a Patreon now! For just $5 a month, you can gain access to character artwork, preview chapters of upcoming releases, and polls regarding my projects!
As always, you can sign up for my newsletter or follow me on Facebook and Twitter for the latest updates. If you enjoyed this book please leave a positive review and spread the word!
Thank you again!
Chapter 1
The ancient manor house sagged before me. It was a decrepit heap. Many of its windows had been smashed out, and its exterior was covered with clinging vines and illegible graffiti. Part of the front porch had been set on fire, leaving it blackened and scorched.
The yard was overgrown, full of old beer cans, broken bottles, and a toilet that had apparently been thrown out of a third-story window.
“It’s perfect,” I said, my heart swelling with pride.
Sure, it was a derelict hellhole, but it was mine and mine alone.
The mana flowing around the manor was outstanding. Even out in the driveway, I could sense the magic coming off the place and filling the woods around me.
Using Mana Perception, the magic swelled like a roaring sea to my enhanced eyesight. I saw flickers of blue, green, red, black, and white-hued mana mingling in the tides that coursed around the house and across the landscape.
I had never set foot inside the house. The seller had demanded that it be sold as is, but I imagined the mystical power inside the manor was even more concentrated, more powerful.
It was the perfect place to make my Lair and level up my Hearth Magic Proficiency.
But before any of that, there was a lot of practical labor that needed to be done.
Closing down the Mana Perception Skill, I got to work. I trusted my more practical Proficiencies and my years of experience working as a home contractor to help me with the mountain of repairs needed.
The real estate agent was set to arrive later in the afternoon with the keys. Before that, I wanted to cover the broken windows and put some tarps over the roof.
Based on a quick inspection, the roof was in surprisingly decent shape. Someone had made a token effort at repairs, but I was sure that the whole thing would need to be replaced at some point.
At least I wouldn’t have leaks if it rained.
My truck was parked at the top of the oval driveway. The Pennsylvania woods stretched off on both sides of the rutted, gravel path. The house sat upon twenty acres of forested land; I couldn’t even see my neighbors through the thick foliage.
It was an early summer day. The weather was supposed to be hot, but I kept my work shirt on. The area around the manor was surprisingly chilly like the sunlight never quite warmed the place up.
“Windows, first things first,” I said, mentally reviewing my list of tasks.
Thankfully, I had spent years working as a contractor, allowing me to level up my Proficiencies. I was best at Carpentry and Construction, but I had points in Plumbing, Roofing, and even Electrical Wiring.
I had a ton of work ahead of me, but I knew I was up to the task.
Brent Owens
Race: Human
MP: 700/700
Ability Scores
Strength: 11
Finesse: 11
Fortitude: 17
Resilience: 17
Wisdom: 18
Discipline: 19
Classes
Laborer Lvl 6
Wizard Lvl 3
Skills
Mana Bolt Lvl 1
Mana Perception Lvl 2
Second Wind Lvl 3
Proficiencies
Carpentry Lvl 5
Construction Lvl 6
Plumbing Lvl 3
Roofing Lvl 3
Electrical Wiring Lvl 2
Hearth Magic Lvl 2
I waved away the stat window I had inadvertently opened by thinking of my Proficiencies. Reaching into my truck, I put on my tool belt and then grabbed a ladder.
It was time to start fixing up my new home.
***
I was just screwing the last piece of plywood in place over a broken third-story window when the real estate agent arrived. He parked his car a few feet away from my truck, mindful of all the tools and equipment I had scattered about.
Climbing out, he waved. “Afternoon, Brent! I’m impressed you managed to get so much done already!”
I made sure the plywood was securely in place before I climbed down.
“I got here early, hoping to get the place secured before you arrived,” I said, dusting off my hands to offer him a handshake.
Vincent Debroise, my real estate agent, grinned as he pulled out a thick, manilla envelope. “Done and delivered! Rotwood Manor is now yours!”
I rolled my eyes. “Vince, please, it’s Rootwood Manor. Come on man, you know that!”
Vince laughed. “Tell you what, once you fix it up, we’ll talk about changing the nickname. But until then? I’m pretty sure Rotwood Manor sticks.”
Vince and I had gone to high school together. We had never been close friends, but I still kept in touch with him via social media. Growing up in Ashling Grove, we had both heard the spooky stories about Rotwood Manor.
Vince looked at the boarded-up windows. “How bad does it look on the inside?”
“Bad,” I admitted.
I hadn’t gotten much of a look through the windows while I was working, as I had been too busy clearing away the remaining glass and screwing in the plywood coverings, but the interior of the building looked shot. It’d be a complete gut job, though I was hoping my Hearth Magic would help me with that, provided I could bond with the home’s hearth successfully.
Looking up, I spotted the black, soot-stained chimney rising off the back of the building. I had never been allowed inside, but I had confirmed the manor did have a fully working fireplace.
Vince tapped the envelope. “Keys are inside. Let’s go take a look around!”
I chuckled as I opened the packet. “Why, do you want to see a ghost?”
“Just simple curiosity,” he said with a shrug. “We grew up hearing all kinds of hair-raising stories about this place, even before The Reckoning. Let’s go see if the legends match reality!”
He whispered conspiratorially, “Who knows, maybe there’s a Kobold or something inside!”
I really hoped not. Kobolds were low-level Monsters, but they were still tough sons-of-bitches according to the few adventurers I knew.
Vince went to his car and returned a few minutes later with a small shield and a spiked mace.
“What?” He laughed. “My primary Class might be Merchant, but my secondary Class is Warrior. Marlene made me train it up. She likes her men big and burly.”
He flexed, showing off his gains. In school, before The Reckoning, he had been a skinny goth. But now, in his late twenties and with several Warrior levels under his belt, Vince could have passed as a Conan wannabe.
I was happy he had at least decided to drop the black mascara and the Thirty Seconds to Mars t-shirts.
Turning off my tools, I armed up as well, just in case. Reaching into my truck’s glove compartment, I grabbed my weapon, a short wand made from machined steel. An artificial quartz crystal glimmered from its
“I still can’t believe you went with Wizard as your secondary Class,” Vince said, looking at me as I tucked the wand into my tool belt. “The stats do nothing for your day job.”
I bit my tongue. I’d heard enough arguments in the past on how I was wasting my potential. Laborer gave me one free stat point per level, the same as Wizard. I had split them between Wisdom and Discipline, hoping to boost my magical potential.
“Vince, if I’m right, I won’t need to worry about my day job ever again,” I said sharply as I palmed the keys and walked onto the front porch.
I enjoyed being a contractor and working with my hands, but I had greater ambitions and bolder dreams.
The porch’s planks sagged worryingly underneath us. I made a mental note to crawl underneath and check out the supports; I suspected they needed to be replaced.
It took a few tries to get the door open. Even after unlocking the deadbolt, the thing refused to open. The wooden door had warped and swelled, pinching it in the frame. It took both Vince and I working together to shoulder it open.
Stepping into the foyer, the first thing that hit me was the smell. The interior of the mansion reeked of garbage and decay, with the acrid stench of piss just below that. Vince instantly pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket while I used a dust rag to cover my face.
“Fuck, man, why did you buy this place?” Vince gazed at the destruction all around us.
The house’s last residents had been a frat belonging to Ashling State, the college sitting on the other side of town. Back in high school, I had heard stories about the debauchery and legendary hedonism of Delta Iota Kappa.
Looking at the devastation they’d caused Rotwood Manor, I was suddenly glad I had never got a chance to party with them.
Graffiti covered the walls. Most were the frat’s Greek letters, but there were pentagrams, bloody halos, and satanic symbols as well.
“Damn,” Vince muttered. “I heard rumors the frat guys were into some weird shit, but this is just freaky.”
The carpet crunched underfoot as I looked at the ruined grand staircase that rose from the foyer to reach the second and third floors. Most of the railings were gone, but the treads looked to be in good shape.
I’d researched the house before purchasing it, including pulling copies of its blueprints from the assessor's office. Rotwood Manor was divided into three wings. The main building, where we were standing, held the foyer, the main hall, servants’ quarters, and a collection of parlors and offices. The atrium wing was to our left, while the residential wing stretched off to our right.
The frat that had occupied the house from the early nineties till they were kicked out in 2008. DIK had spent over two decades partying like hell and slowly demolishing the manor.
Someone had made an effort to clean the place, but old beer cans, liquor bottles, and trash had been left heaped in piles or sitting in the corners. I imagined only some of it was left over from the last days of DIK. Rotwood Manor was a popular place for local kids to go drink, party, and hunt for ghosts.
“Come on, let’s check the rest of the first floor,” I said, waving for Vince to follow.
“Glad I didn’t wear my good shoes,” he replied; mace and shield still in hand.
I didn’t want to risk trying to turn the lights on. I had no clue what shape the wiring was in. There was plenty of sunlight coming in through the remaining upstairs windows anyway.
Despite my initial assessment, I was impressed by how well the house had held up. Mana coursed through the structure, from the foundation up to the rafters, keeping the worst of the damage at bay. I’d still need to do an insane amount of work, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had first feared.
“Check it out,” Vince said, pointing to a side room. “Guess one of the previous owners tried to redo the old kitchen.”
The walls had been stripped down to the studs, and the subfloor pulled up to reveal hardwood planking. I could see utility hookups where the appliances had once stood. The counter had been torn out, but someone had set up a utility sink.
Turning the faucet, I was pleasantly surprised when cold, clear water came out of the tap.
“I heard rumors that one of the folks that bought this place wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast,” Vince said. “They sunk a fortune into the project before the husband died. Afterward, the wife washed her hands of the place.”
“I heard he fell off the roof while trying to do repairs,” I remembered.
“But I guess he must have fixed the well and pump before biting it,” Vince replied.
“Guess I owe him one,” I grunted in acknowledgment.
After the frat had been evicted, the house had traded hands multiple times. A few people had made efforts to flip it or fix it up. A handful had died, like the bed and breakfast guy, killed in accidents. But most had simply thrown up their hands and walked away after a few weeks of effort.
Not that I blamed them. The first few years after The Reckoning had been rough. It had taken Humanity a while to make peace with its new place in the multiverse and the seismic changes that followed the introduction of Classes, Skills, and Proficiencies, let alone Dungeons and Monsters.
Eventually, the house had ended up with Vince’s realtor company. The owner was desperate to get rid of the property, offering it up for a song. Once I’d seen Rotwood Manor and its powerful mana, I had jumped at the opportunity.
We entered the house’s main hall. It spanned up all three stories, filling the back of the central wing. Along the ceiling’s massive wooden beams were hooks where chandeliers had once hung.
Balconies ringed the upper portion of the room, with doorways leading off to the various side rooms. Again, someone had made an effort to clean the place up, but there was still junk everywhere. A ruined chandelier lay heaped in the corner. Cracked crystals sparkled under dusty sunbeams.
But what really pulled my attention was the gigantic fireplace that dominated the room's rear wall.
It was over three meters across and nearly as tall, made from red brick. Despite the age and overall shape of the rest of the building, the hearth was still largely intact. The bricks were blackened and stained with soot, but I didn’t see any cracks or gaps. Even the ancient mortar seemed intact.
Unlike the rest of the interior, its bricks were completely free of graffiti. DIK or the vandals who had come afterward hadn’t touched the fireplace.
Countless streams of mana, an impossible mix of elements, swirled around the hearth like a vortex. I felt my Mana Perception Skill nearly level from just looking at the confluence.
Even Vince, who was effectively blind to mana with his given Classes, looked uneasy. “Hey, is it just me, or are you getting the creeps?”
Looking into the vortex, I felt even more confident in my decision. In all my research into Hearth Magic, I had never heard of anything like Rotwood Manor. Fire, Darkness, Earth, and Water mana churned through the vacant hearth.
I wasn’t sure why Rotwood Manor was such a nexus of arcane power. I once again thanked my lucky stars that no other Wizards or wannabe mystics had found the place before I had.
“Brent?” Vince called. “Earth to Brent, you there, man?”
I stopped myself. Without even realizing it, I had walked right up to the edge of the fireplace.
“It’s perfect,” I replied. “Trust me, when I bring this place back to grandeur, nobody will call it Rotwood Manor ever again!”
Chapter 2
There were still a few more documents for me to sign, so we retreated outside and used the hood of Vince's car to sort through them. The muscle-bound realtor looked upset that we hadn't encountered any Monsters inside the old house.
There was a Dungeon below Ashling State and it wasn't unheard of for Monsters to spontaneously appear in the hills surrounding the town. Nothing in my research had indicated, though, that my home was a nest for hostile critters.
“Good luck.” He shook my hand one last time as he looked up at the building doubtfully. “Don’t forget, the first mortgage payment—”
“Is due at the start of August,” I interjected. “Yup, don’t worry.”
Vince’s company had arranged the mortgage through a regional bank. It wasn’t too onerous. The land was worth more than the structure that sat upon it, but I was determined to pay down the loan as quickly as possible.
