Portia never said goodbye when she left Magrimar. She
simply hugged her parents, her tears mingling with those of
her father, before slipping out the back door, barely in time
to catch the coach.
Her father, a blacksmith, had come to Golemworks in his
thirties, drawn by a job o er and increased pay. Born in
Korvosa, he’d made arms for the Ebon Guard and while
prestigious, the position was hardly lucrative.
Her mother, a new graduate of the Academie, had come to
Magnimar three months later. She was one of the few
Conjurers with the Works, brought in as a researcher.
The couple met quickly enough, for Korvosans in Magnimar
stand out easily but make friends only with great e ort. One
thing led to another, as they tend to do. Before long they
became friends, then lovers, and eventually, husband and
wife. In this way, Portia’s birth seemed fated, though in fact,
it wasn’t actually anything of the sort.
She loved the ‘Works and as a young girl, had dreamed of
spending her entire life there. Wanting to continue in the
footsteps of her parents, she’d learned to work the anvil
at a young age. At night, she studied the arcane arts and had
even mastered a few minor spells such as the detection of magic or poison.
It was with great disappointment then, when after years of
e ort, she was nally forced to face the fact that she had no
arcane gift beyond those few simple spells. She would stay
up late into the night reading from her mother’s spell book,
memorizing every word, even the little symbols her mother
used to indicate pronounciation or in ection. Every morning
at breakfast she would attempt a minor summoning and
every morning, nothing would happen.
Despite all her failures, her parents never showed a hint of
disappointment, though she knew it must run deep.
Her father clearly loved his baby girl and showed it every
day. He wanted her to come to the ‘Works and already
arranged a position in Jointery. Her talent for intricate
joinings would take her far he said, each time beaming with
pride.
Her mother hid her disappointment well for Portia had
never seen it, though she was certain it was there. It simply
must be. She excelled in her father’s work, it was her mother
whom she’d let down. Those rst spells had come so easily,
and at such a young age, that everyone expected great
things from her - but then nothing, year after year.
She fought hard to stop the jealousy that came upon her
when she thought of her friends. Each had shared their
plans as graduation day came closer, some bound for the
Academie or the College of Cyphers, others for foundries
throughout Varisia to begin apprenticeships. As each one
excitedly set out for their future, Portia hid in her room, too
ashamed to say goodbye.
Looking out the window of her coach, she watched the city
gates rst pass overhead and then slowly fade into the
distance. She was not going far, only a one day journey, but
to a young girl who’d lived her whole life in the ‘Works,
Sandpoint seemed an entire world away.
In her hands was a letter of introduction to her mother’s
friend, Ameiko Kaijitsu. Portia had no other options really,
having turned down every other possibility.
A person was not supposed to decide what they wanted to
be. She knew what life was supposed to be like - she’d seen
them create it every day at the ‘Works.
A life was prepared with good planning and hard work.
Once everything was arranged, the foundation laid and the
future scheduled, the moment came in a brief ceremony.
Somehow, this innkeeper with a funny name was going to
help her learn how to t into a world that seemed to have
no place for her, or so her mother said.
Portia didn’t understand how anyone could explain why
she’d felt nothing. How could they explain why the day after
her graduation had felt no di erent than the day before.
