After bidding the Old Man good night, I head to the little apartment at the back of the tea shop that I’ve lived in alone for the last five years or so. As I walk through the unlocked door, I catch my reflection in the polished mirror hanging over my dresser.

  I’m not a bad-looking guy – tall enough, with the kind of tan and muscle that comes from long days of labor around the shop. As I catch my reflection in the mirror, the Old Man’s words echo in my mind—this journey will demand diligence and determination. Even so, I can’t deny the change in me; I look more alive than I ever have. Excitement, hope, and confidence from the evening’s discoveries keep a smile on my face, my dark green eyes gleaming with anticipation.

  I pull out the manual Mallorc gave me, and that earlier feeling of steam and warmth returns – bringing comfort and peace. Excitement bubbles through me as I hurry to get out of my slacks, unbutton my shirt, and get dressed in a loose tee and shorts. I review the meditative forms again with their accompanying breathing patterns.

  There are three forms portrayed in the pamphlet, and they blend into one another seamlessly, with the breathing patterns progressing in stages that flow from inhale to exhale fluidly. The title – Three Infusions Breathing – drifts across the top like a cloud of steam, its ink faint and wispy.

  The First Infusion depicts volatile and quick movements with rapid breathing through the chest. The mantra it calls for me to repeat mentally as I move through this form is ‘Brighter than the first sip of dawn.' I begin to move through the form and feel nothing at first, then the poses become physically straining, and I perspire heavily. By the last pose of the form, I felt a heat stirring in my chest, giving the sense of an engine driving each movement. By the time I finished the last pose, my body is so heavy I collapse onto the bed. My eyes closed, and my mind was asleep the moment I hit the covers.

  Morning light pours through the window, dragging me from my dreamless sleep. My body feels lighter than it ever has, and I jump out of bed with excitement and anticipation. Yesterday was the start of my new adventure, but today is the start of making a habit out of my training. The smell coming from my body quickly breaks my reverie of my new meditation technique.

  Oh, I am rank! Judging by the sunlight streaming in, I’m also very late – but I’m sure the Old Man would prefer I take an extra ten minutes to wash than show up smelling like the ghosts of long-lost gym socks.

  In the back courtyard, I activate the well crystal, drawing a fresh bucket of glacial water. I pour it over my head after slathering myself head to toe with cleansing tea salve. The frigid water jolts me even further awake, and the light smell of jasmine seems to drift about me in the courtyard. I run back to my room and change into my work clothes before I hurry down the hall into the tea house.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Mallorc looks up, helping customers, and he amusingly tilts his head toward the customers waiting to be seated at the counter. Good, he doesn’t seem angry – wait, would he be angry? He obviously knew this would happen – he’s practiced the methods himself before. I shake my head. A little warning would’ve been nice, Old Man – but I’m not surprised; this is very in character for him.

  I seat the waiting customers at a couple of tables and take their orders. Most of the requests are simple breakfast orders of a robust dark tea and pastries, but one of the orders takes me off guard. A tall, brawny, well-kempt guy, maybe a few years older than me, orders one of the expensive Mana Sencha teas. I confirm his order and ensure the price is acceptable –since I’ve never seen him in the store before – and let him know that it will be a few minutes before the Old Man can perform the tea service for him. He gives me a slight nod and starts writing in a journal he’s pulled from his side pouch. Before I walk away, an ethereal black sheen to his eyes catches my attention – he must have some kind of magic, but I don’t know what element he utilizes that corresponds with black.

  I start to prepare the other teas ordered by the guests I just sat, and I catch Master’s attention with a small gesture.

  “You know, a warning about the physical strain would’ve been nice,” I say, almost lecturing him.

  He lets out a loud cackle, “It shouldn’t have been that physically draining – I imagine you didn’t make it through all three forms without pausing. That isn’t surprising, as it takes incredible willpower and practice to do so. I guess it would be more surprising if you did do it all in one go.”

  I narrow my eyes accusingly, “So it was a trap then? I’m not a super genius, and you knew I wouldn’t get it on the first try. You just didn’t warn me so you could mock me!”

  He’s still laughing as he waves off my tirade. He tilts his head in the direction of the new customer. “What did he order? I’ll start to put it together.”

  I double-check my notes. “The Chumushi Sencha. He seems to have a high mana class – there’s a sheen to his eyes – but you probably don’t need to know that, since you treat them all like VIPs anyway.”

  He nods briefly before grabbing a hand-crafted clay pot and goes into the storage room with all of the mana teas to pick out the right leaves for the customer.

  The rest of the day flies by with no other customers of note. I asked Master about the young customer, but he didn’t give me anything more than the cursory ‘He works for the court, make sure to continue showing him respect if you see him in the future.’

  As the glowstones dim, marking the end of another day, I set our usual table for another shared cut of tea. As he sits across from me, he holds out a few leaves in his hand. They look familiar – similar to some other green tea leaves we serve – but the dense green aura of vitality and energy around them marks them as mana leaves.

  “Are those the same Chumushi Sencha leaves that the young court mage ordered earlier?” I ask thoughtfully.

  “You are right about the tea leaves, but you are too quick to judge him as a court mage. He works for the court, yes. But he’s not a mage.”