The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
My mouth stayed open afterward.
I closed it with effort.
I had spent four years serving customers of every kind.
Nobles, mercenaries, adventurers who smelled of the dungeon.
I knew how to stay composed.
I forced my spine straight and bowed, as one should before a mage of higher standing.
"Welcome to my shop, sir. Is there something I can help you find?"
My voice was steady.
... I'm so glad! I took a small peek at him.
The man did not answer immediately.
He looked around the shop slowly, along the shelves, the labels, the rows of bottles, as if searching for something specific.
"Potions that raise strength."
He said at last.
"Do you have them?"
His voice was low and calm.
It carried no threat, and somehow that made it heavier.
"Yes, sir. Third shelf on the left. Each lasts about an hour."
"Hm."
He walked toward the shelf.
I did not move.
I did not trust my legs to move without shaking, and I did not want him to see that.
I told myself to be rational.
I was a 4th circle mage, and a 4th circle mage could read the circle of another by the mana they emitted alone.
It was one of the first things a mage learned.
Mana was the language of our kind, and I had long since learned to read it.
I had seen a 7th circle mage once.
The Grand Mage of the White Tower.
Even then, I could only vaguely sense the level of such a person.
It was like looking at a tall mountain surrounded by mist and clouds.
I could not see the peak, but I knew it was there, and I knew how far above me it stood.
Looking at this man was not like that.
It was like staring at the sky.
I could not comprehend the scale of it, because there was nothing to compare it to.
An 8th circle mage.
The kind told only in legends, the kind said to be demigods.
Archmages were not supposed to walk into potion shops.
"Forgive my rudeness, sir."
I said.
"May I ask your circle?"
He stopped and looked at me.
I could not see his eyes beneath the cloth, but I felt his attention settle on me, and my pulse quickened.
"What do you see?"
He asked.
"I see something I cannot fathom..."
"...Then that will do."
It was all he said.
It was all he needed to say.
"So... S-sir Archmage..."
I began, and my voice finally failed me for a moment.
I swallowed.
"I apologize. It is not every day that one meets a person of your standing."
I was ashamed of the stumble.
I had stood in front of the Grand Mage without my voice breaking.
But this was not the same.
The Grand Mage had stood in front of me.
This man stood above me, and my body understood it before my mind could object.
He returned to the shelf and resumed looking over the bottles.
I stayed where I was, watching him.
Every mage has an aura around them.
We call it mana aura.
The larger it is, the stronger the mage.
It was what I had been reading for years.
This man had none.
No.
That was not right.
I looked at him again, searching for the edge of it.
I found nothing, and I realized that the edge was not close enough to find.
I turned my head toward the window.
My shop was on the second floor of the tower, and from it I could see the streets, the rooftops, and the town walls beyond.
I saw it.
The end of his mana aura.
It lay thin and calm over the entire town.
Not only over the streets below.
It extended past the walls and continued beyond them, several times larger than the town itself.
And it was restrained.
I could tell.
It was not pressing, not spreading.
It was being held in, the way one holds a breath.
If this was what he looked like while holding back, then I did not want to imagine what he would look like if he did not.
I gulped and looked back at him.
The man had just picked up a strength potion from the shelf.
***
I picked up the strength potion and read the label.
[Strength Potion: +5 Strength, 1 hour]
My Strength stat was 10.
A fifty percent increase!
Not bad at all.
If I couldn't level up, stat boosters were the next best thing, and I know that I would need them later.
I took two more bottles from the shelf.
Three should be good.
Behind me, the shop owner was standing very straight, as if someone had nailed her to the floor.
She had called me an archmage, and she had been looking at me like I was a natural disaster that had decided to shop for potions.
Archmage, huh.
I wasn't sure what the "circle" thing was, but I knew that I wasn't going to correct her.
A white dragon discovered in the middle of town would be a problem.
An archmage was not.
I walked to the counter and set the three bottles down.
"How much?"
The shop owner flinched slightly, and then she bowed deeply, more deeply than any customer should be bowed to.
"There is no charge, sir. It would be an honor. Please, take them."
"...Are you certain?"
"Yes. I would not accept payment from you."
Her voice was calm.
Her hands, on the counter, were not.
I thought about arguing, but she looked very determined.
I nodded and put the three bottles in my robe.
"Then I will accept."
On the house.
Free.
I wasn't going to say no.
I left the shop and walked down the stairs with my back straight and my steps calm, like an archmage would.