My group has come a long way. I remember plenty of the initiates being unprepared that first day, fidgeting as they tried to concentrate on their mana pools, and generally failing. Now, each of us are practiced in meditation, seated in neat rows, still as statues in the lotus position.
The proud nobles didn’t last long with their protests of refusing to sit, adopting more common clothes they didn’t mind getting dirty. Even their egos had been cowled, likely being shaved down by the much larger personas they now brushed shoulders with, heh. Makes me think of how far I’ve come myself. And there’s a lot more to go.
“That’s our time for today,” Mano announces, breaking the group’s collective concentration. I’m already alert, lounging in Geneva’s lap. I’ve had her rouse me from her magically induced meditative state a few minutes before the class ends. Why? To spy on the others, of course. Innocuously.
I won’t dig through people’s head for an advantage but Geneva can read surface thoughts without even trying. It’s amazing the kind of things that cross people’s minds when they’re relaxed. I think I know my peers at bit more intimately than they’d like me too, hehe.
“Good work everyone. I’ll see you again bright and early tomorrow morning.” He bows to the group, sparing me a look before he wanders amongst the others, hearing out their questions.
Our instructor is a strange one. There are all types at the Grand Hall besides the obvious casters honing their magic. Having talked to the third-year acolyte, I understand that he is training to be one of the testers who help measure coefficients by manipulating the mana of others. An innocuous profession that takes years of study.
Simple battle casting? No problem. Plenty of initiates can throw a fireball before they arrive. Manipulating mana is pure technique. After all, one mistake can leave a person cut off from their mana pool. Geneva tells me that it also has combat applications, but they’re rather limited. No one is going to sit by and let anyone mess with their mana channels.
For this limited skill, the man plans to spend the next five years as an acolyte. There is no limit to how long one can study at the Hall. Once you’re accepted, as long as you pay your yearly fees, you can take any class being offered and have free access to all facilities.
Eight years of study to learn a single skill. Mano looks a little unreliable with his long, flowing hair, bright skin that doesn’t tan despite spending every day out under the sun, and easy smile but he’s got dedication. And connections. I should invite him down to Howie’s as he’ll be around for quite a while.
[Ah, are your tastes expanding, my summoner?]
What? No!
I glare at Geneva but she’s immune to the look, knowing I won’t back it up. Sigh, I really need to discipline her.
The problem is, every time I think about it, she gets this look of anticipation in her eyes. I’m three hundred percent sure that it will do absolutely nothing to stop her and will only compromise my crumbling morality.
“Then I’ll take my leave.”
“Yeah, thanks as always.” I watch Geneva walk off for a while, captivated by her swishing tail, before hurrying over to a scowling Alana. I loop our arms together. “What’s the matter? You should be excited.”
“You’re a devil,” she grouses at me.
“It’s not my fault you can’t handle your drink. I tried to warn you off it.”
“You didn’t mention that you exchanged your blood for liquor. I know knights who can’t handle half as much as you. Some that can handle a lot more too but they’re three times your size.”
“Flatterer.”
“Not a compliment.”
“Are you looking forward to Foundation? Since it’s Manaday, Kierra’s bound to have some fresh horror ready to get us motivated for the week.”
She shivers, no doubt remembering the bet to ask for special attention. “A devil, I tell you.”
I continue to needle her as we make our way to our next class, Magic Theory. I had high hopes for this but it turns out to be a study in the obvious. What? Earth mana is more heavily concentrated in the ground? Air mana in the sky? Water in the…water?
Truly, the study of scholars.
It is something called a prerequisite for another class called Advanced Magic Theory, a class Mano swears any competent caster needs to take. He has yet to give bad advice but I’m not entirely convinced. Ah, well. I’d prefer it to another year of Foundation. Too bad there’s no way my wife will let me wheedle out of the next level of her torture.
I needle Alana all the way to the field. Surprisingly, Kierra is already present along with her helpers. They are working on two separate projects; one group appears to be setting up an obstacle course while another group is setting up…a roasting spit?
That can’t be right but that’s what it looks like. Two tall pillars of earth. Between them is a thinner earth pole that resembles a roasting spit. Her helpers are busy setting up firewood beneath it but I don’t see any meat…
No matter. I’ve survived all of her schemes until now. And this time, I won’t be alone.
Grinning, I tug Alana, whose planted her feet, toward Kierra, enjoying her groans. My wife stops her conversation when she sees us. “Oh, Lou. Coming so early. I knew you enjoyed our time together as much as I do.”
“Who wouldn’t crave the undivided attention of the most beautiful woman in the world?”
“…the torture has driven you insane.”
We both grin at Alana, Kierra chuckling. “Torture? No, no. These are labors of love. But never mind that. You seem like you have something to tell me.”
I nudge my friend forward with a shoulder. She scowls at me before letting out a deep breath. “…I would appreciate…more training from you, teacher.”
My elf raises one perfect eyebrow. Her eyes look between the two of us before her lips turn up in a sly grin. “I see. You wish to deepen your friendship by enduring the same pains. Wonderful.” Heh. Alana really wants to deny that but she holds the words back with great effort. “Of course, I will grant this request. Don’t worry. When I am done with you, you will have nothing to fear from the so-called knights of this kingdom.”
Alana is...a jumble of emotions right now. Her features are schooled into a blank mask but little twitches by her eyes give her away. Nothing overt but after dealing with masters like my wife and Geneva, she’s…not quite as easy to read as a book, but it’s close. She might be full of dread, for good reason, but she is also excited. She knows Kierra’s strength. Being personally taught by her is as much of an opportunity as it is a sentence.
More than she knows.
I give my wife a discreet look that she meets. Wordless communication passes between us before I give a nod. She gives me a smile in return.
I’ve just affirmed that I want Alana to receive all of that extra support, including my wife’s rare melding skills. A subtle boost. She’ll turn the already talented knight-to-be into something feared across the entire continent. From our night out, it sounds like she has enemies to face. I’m not averse to helping out.
A cynical voice asks if this isn’t the same as Miss Talia, granting people not a part of my immediate circle powerful boons.
This clearly isn’t the same. Alana’s a future saint. Whether we remain the good friends that we are, I have no regrets empowering her to spread light and morality into the world. The saints know it needs it, coming from someone who came this close to being a victim of murder.
One thing you notice. Plenty of people pray to the saints but very few emulate them.
“Time for the fun to start.”
I look over my shoulder to see the rest of the initiates making their way to the field. These people don’t resemble young casters in training. They look like seasoned warriors heading to a battlefield, a collection of grim frowns and hard eyes. Understandable. After the horrors they’ve experienced, a few arrows and swords will hardly faze them. Prime material to be molded into defenders of the kingdom.
At least, those that remain. Our group has shrunk to nearly half since spring, some using their influence to get transferred to a different group and some dropping out altogether. But those who remain are made of sterner stuff. A bit of a tradeoff for the rampant trauma amongst them, no doubt, but hey. They’re still functioning.
“Come on.” Kierra turns us around and pushes us forward by the shoulders. Oh, her helpers have finished the obstacle course. Some wall climbing, rope to crawl under…is that a pit of snakes? Oh saints, why did he just cover that part of the course in ice? That’s sadistic. They’re doing something with the hurdles too…oh…fire. Haha. Got to love this elf.
Sigh.
My group has come a long way. I remember plenty of the initiates being unprepared that first day, fidgeting as they tried to concentrate on their mana pools, and generally failing. Now, each of us are practiced in meditation, seated in neat rows, still as statues in the lotus position.
The proud nobles didn’t last long with their protests of refusing to sit, adopting more common clothes they didn’t mind getting dirty. Even their egos had been cowled, likely being shaved down by the much larger personas they now brushed shoulders with, heh. Makes me think of how far I’ve come myself. And there’s a lot more to go.
“That’s our time for today,” Mano announces, breaking the group’s collective concentration. I’m already alert, lounging in Geneva’s lap. I’ve had her rouse me from her magically induced meditative state a few minutes before the class ends. Why? To spy on the others, of course. Innocuously.
I won’t dig through people’s head for an advantage but Geneva can read surface thoughts without even trying. It’s amazing the kind of things that cross people’s minds when they’re relaxed. I think I know my peers at bit more intimately than they’d like me too, hehe.
“Good work everyone. I’ll see you again bright and early tomorrow morning.” He bows to the group, sparing me a look before he wanders amongst the others, hearing out their questions.
Our instructor is a strange one. There are all types at the Grand Hall besides the obvious casters honing their magic. Having talked to the third-year acolyte, I understand that he is training to be one of the testers who help measure coefficients by manipulating the mana of others. An innocuous profession that takes years of study.
Simple battle casting? No problem. Plenty of initiates can throw a fireball before they arrive. Manipulating mana is pure technique. After all, one mistake can leave a person cut off from their mana pool. Geneva tells me that it also has combat applications, but they’re rather limited. No one is going to sit by and let anyone mess with their mana channels.
For this limited skill, the man plans to spend the next five years as an acolyte. There is no limit to how long one can study at the Hall. Once you’re accepted, as long as you pay your yearly fees, you can take any class being offered and have free access to all facilities.
Eight years of study to learn a single skill. Mano looks a little unreliable with his long, flowing hair, bright skin that doesn’t tan despite spending every day out under the sun, and easy smile but he’s got dedication. And connections. I should invite him down to Howie’s as he’ll be around for quite a while.
[Ah, are your tastes expanding, my summoner?]
What? No!
I glare at Geneva but she’s immune to the look, knowing I won’t back it up. Sigh, I really need to discipline her.
The problem is, every time I think about it, she gets this look of anticipation in her eyes. I’m three hundred percent sure that it will do absolutely nothing to stop her and will only compromise my crumbling morality.
“Then I’ll take my leave.”
“Yeah, thanks as always.” I watch Geneva walk off for a while, captivated by her swishing tail, before hurrying over to a scowling Alana. I loop our arms together. “What’s the matter? You should be excited.”
“You’re a devil,” she grouses at me.
“It’s not my fault you can’t handle your drink. I tried to warn you off it.”
“You didn’t mention that you exchanged your blood for liquor. I know knights who can’t handle half as much as you. Some that can handle a lot more too but they’re three times your size.”
“Flatterer.”
“Not a compliment.”
“Are you looking forward to Foundation? Since it’s Manaday, Kierra’s bound to have some fresh horror ready to get us motivated for the week.”
She shivers, no doubt remembering the bet to ask for special attention. “A devil, I tell you.”
I continue to needle her as we make our way to our next class, Magic Theory. I had high hopes for this but it turns out to be a study in the obvious. What? Earth mana is more heavily concentrated in the ground? Air mana in the sky? Water in the…water?
Truly, the study of scholars.
It is something called a prerequisite for another class called Advanced Magic Theory, a class Mano swears any competent caster needs to take. He has yet to give bad advice but I’m not entirely convinced. Ah, well. I’d prefer it to another year of Foundation. Too bad there’s no way my wife will let me wheedle out of the next level of her torture.
I needle Alana all the way to the field. Surprisingly, Kierra is already present along with her helpers. They are working on two separate projects; one group appears to be setting up an obstacle course while another group is setting up…a roasting spit?
That can’t be right but that’s what it looks like. Two tall pillars of earth. Between them is a thinner earth pole that resembles a roasting spit. Her helpers are busy setting up firewood beneath it but I don’t see any meat…
No matter. I’ve survived all of her schemes until now. And this time, I won’t be alone.
Grinning, I tug Alana, whose planted her feet, toward Kierra, enjoying her groans. My wife stops her conversation when she sees us. “Oh, Lou. Coming so early. I knew you enjoyed our time together as much as I do.”
“Who wouldn’t crave the undivided attention of the most beautiful woman in the world?”
“…the torture has driven you insane.”
We both grin at Alana, Kierra chuckling. “Torture? No, no. These are labors of love. But never mind that. You seem like you have something to tell me.”
I nudge my friend forward with a shoulder. She scowls at me before letting out a deep breath. “…I would appreciate…more training from you, teacher.”
My elf raises one perfect eyebrow. Her eyes look between the two of us before her lips turn up in a sly grin. “I see. You wish to deepen your friendship by enduring the same pains. Wonderful.” Heh. Alana really wants to deny that but she holds the words back with great effort. “Of course, I will grant this request. Don’t worry. When I am done with you, you will have nothing to fear from the so-called knights of this kingdom.”
Alana is...a jumble of emotions right now. Her features are schooled into a blank mask but little twitches by her eyes give her away. Nothing overt but after dealing with masters like my wife and Geneva, she’s…not quite as easy to read as a book, but it’s close. She might be full of dread, for good reason, but she is also excited. She knows Kierra’s strength. Being personally taught by her is as much of an opportunity as it is a sentence.
More than she knows.
I give my wife a discreet look that she meets. Wordless communication passes between us before I give a nod. She gives me a smile in return.
I’ve just affirmed that I want Alana to receive all of that extra support, including my wife’s rare melding skills. A subtle boost. She’ll turn the already talented knight-to-be into something feared across the entire continent. From our night out, it sounds like she has enemies to face. I’m not averse to helping out.
A cynical voice asks if this isn’t the same as Miss Talia, granting people not a part of my immediate circle powerful boons.
This clearly isn’t the same. Alana’s a future saint. Whether we remain the good friends that we are, I have no regrets empowering her to spread light and morality into the world. The saints know it needs it, coming from someone who came this close to being a victim of murder.
One thing you notice. Plenty of people pray to the saints but very few emulate them.
“Time for the fun to start.”
I look over my shoulder to see the rest of the initiates making their way to the field. These people don’t resemble young casters in training. They look like seasoned warriors heading to a battlefield, a collection of grim frowns and hard eyes. Understandable. After the horrors they’ve experienced, a few arrows and swords will hardly faze them. Prime material to be molded into defenders of the kingdom.
At least, those that remain. Our group has shrunk to nearly half since spring, some using their influence to get transferred to a different group and some dropping out altogether. But those who remain are made of sterner stuff. A bit of a tradeoff for the rampant trauma amongst them, no doubt, but hey. They’re still functioning.
“Come on.” Kierra turns us around and pushes us forward by the shoulders. Oh, her helpers have finished the obstacle course. Some wall climbing, rope to crawl under…is that a pit of snakes? Oh saints, why did he just cover that part of the course in ice? That’s sadistic. They’re doing something with the hurdles too…oh…fire. Haha. Got to love this elf.
Sigh.
