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Erick woke with the sun, though it was hard to tell, since the sun rose on the other side of the forest at the back of the house. It was early; Erick had not yet adjusted to the time change, but he couldn’t sleep any longer. He did his morning routine, while Ophiel scratched at the bathroom door. When he was done, he exited the bathroom and peered over the edge of the balcony, down into the center of the house. The smell of meat and bread wafted on the air, and the faintest tint of gold stretched across the western sky. Ophiel tackled Erick’s leg, quickly climbing up to his perch on Erick’s shoulder. Erick patted the little guy and took the steps down into the main living area, beside the open kitchen and the massive picture windows.  

“Good morning, Teressa,” Erick said. “Peaceful night?”

Teressa flipped a pancake with a spatula, as she said, “Perfectly boring.” She checked if the sausage was burning; it wasn’t. “Boring nights are great. Just the way I like it.”

Erick smiled. He asked, “Is Rats around?”

Teressa looked to the windows that were the western wall of Windy Manor, saying, “He’s out there working on something.”

Erick briefly looked to the window, then turned to Teressa, asking, “I have to ask: What was the fight we had when I was under the influence of that Dream Worm? Did Rats not want to come to Oceanside for some reason? Maybe to do with his [Greater Treat Wounds] Quest?” Erick added, “It’s gonna be hard to finish that thing here.”

Teressa smiled faintly, her lower fangs barely visible. “You weren’t yourself, and when Jane made a joke about learning necromancy here, you focused in on Rats and his past. If you must know, you basically called him a necromancer. That started a whole big fight that does not matter, because it wasn’t you saying those words.”

Erick listened, and he frowned. He asked, “Should I apologize?”

“No, you should not.” Teressa lifted the golden pancake from the pan, and set it with a dozen others in a [Heat Ward]. “Best not to dwell on actions that were not under your control.” She poured more butter and batter into the pan, adding, “A lot of weird shit happens in Ar’Kendrithyst and we’ve all seen a lot of it; we know not to take offense at people under the influence of magic.”

Erick wondered how he felt about that, but whatever feelings swirled around in his chest, they were too complicated to vocalize. So he just said, “Okay.” He changed the subject, “Do you have any magic you want to work on while we’re here?”

“Not really.” She said, “But I heard about some of that Mana Sense training. If you’re going to do more of that, I’d like to come to those classes.”

Erick brightened. He said, “Absolutely! We can certainly do that.” He commiserated, “I’ve never been good at clearing my mind, so you might get a lot better than me at Mana Sense.”

Teressa flipped her pancake, saying, “From what I heard from Poi about your exchange with Professor Rue, a good Mana Sense should combine well with [Hunter’s Instincts].”

Erick hummed in thought. There might be a truth there, between [Hunter’s Instincts], Mana Sense, and an ability that seemed to be shared by both. Erick said, “She did mention something about feeling the flow of battle.”

Teressa said, “Yup.” She flipped the browned sausage into a [Heat Ward] to keep it warm, then put more sausage into the grease, saying, “I’ve never been great at clearing my mind either, but it’s a common practice in hunting to ‘become one with the forest’.” She mushed the sausage into the grease, speaking with a somber tone, “I might be able to get some of it back.” She forced cheer into her voice, saying, “If any of those skills are related, there might be something to pursuing Mana Sense through multiple vectors.”

Erick smiled, saying, “Maybe they are.”

Teressa went silent.

Erick asked, “Can I help you with anything? Anything else, that is? I want everyone to be comfortable here, since we might be sticking around for a while.”

Teressa looked out of the picture windows, saying, “Rats is out there. I think he needs more help than me.” She spoke softly, “Thanks. I’ll let you know if my answer changes.”

“Very good then.” Erick nodded, then went off to find Rats.

- - - -

Outside, the sun rose on the other side of the house, casting pale yellow glows across the tree tops. The blue, early morning twilight still hung heavy in the air, while the sound of churning waves, a hundred meters down the far cliffside, carried up across the grass lawn that separated the house from the edge. The garden to the right of the front lawn did little to muffle the sounds of the crashing waves, but it did served to hide a redscale man, sitting crosslegged under a lemon tree, writing on a pad of paper.

As soon as Erick opened the door to the outside, though, Rats stood up from his spot.

He dismissed the paper, and said, “Morning, Boss. What’s up?”

“Teressa said you were working on something.” Erick said, “I was just wondering what it was, and if I could help.”

Rats briefly frowned toward the house, then said, “Just putting together what I know about parasites, trying to come up with a way to better defend against them.”

“I’m planning on taking Defensive Theory and Practice, and that should cover some parasite defensive measures.” Erick said, “You’re invited, to that class, or any others.”

Rats smiled softly. “If it’s alright with you, I would like to try this stuff out on my own, for now.”

Erick pushed no further. He said, “Of course. Let me know if anything changes. And if you need me to do anything to make your stay more comfortable. I’m not sure how long we’ll be here.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

As Erick left Rats behind, Rats gazed out over the ocean, then went back to writing on his papers.  

- - - -

Krigea showed up half an hour before morning classes. Erick invited her past the [Crystallize Air], into the house, and offered her coftea. Across from one another in the main living room, with steaming cups of cofftea on the short table beside the large windows, they began to hash out Erick’s schedule. Kiri and Poi were cleaning up breakfast, while Teressa finished eating hers at the kitchen table, further in the house.

Krigea said, “You’re welcome to stay and learn as long as you wish, but further bargains of trade might be prudent when it comes to some of the non-basic classes.” She added, “Though the library in the back of this house is stocked with all the books of this semester, so you won’t have to worry about purchasing those.”

“I noticed the books. Thank you, Krigea, and Headmaster. I’ve already looked over the books for the classes I want.” Erick said, “I can do more bargains, too. So that’s fine.”

“Has your list of classes adjusted since last we spoke?” she asked.  

“Not really.” Erick listed, “Basic Spatial Magic, Basic Enchanting, Basic Defensive Theory, Basic Culture and Law, Basic World History, Warrior Training for Mages, Monster Ecology, and Esoteric Magic.” He added, “I’d also like to sit in on Ethics for the Warrior, and Dungeoneering, just to see what they’re all about.”

Krigea smiled. “Most of your chosen courses require more reading than attendance, though don’t tell the professors that. Therefore, there is no further need for you to pay to attend them.” She said, “But the Warrior classes, Esoteric Magic, and Dungeoneering, are hands-on courses, which might need further bargains or payment, depending on the individual professors. Enchanting is also the most expensive course we offer; students are expected to provide their own materials.” She added, “Professor Rue Downs is one of the professors for Esoteric Magic. If you wish, I could make sure she is your professor. This would negate the need for another bargain of trade, as the Headmaster feels that you have already given Professor Rue more than enough.”  

“That sounds fine.”

She asked, “Is this the full list of courses you wish to attend, then?”

“Oh. Uh.” Erick turned to Kiri, by the kitchen. “Which ones did you want?”

Kiri, her hands on a cleaning cloth, went from forlorn to overflowing excitement, to contained mirth, all in the span of half a second. She calmly said, “Destruction Magic for the Potential Archmage.”

Erick repeated to Krigea, “Destruction Magic for the Potential Archmage.”

Krigea asked, “The Headmaster will gladly teach you Archmagic, but this course when taught at Oceanside is much more than just the destructive magics taught at Tower Academy.” She added, “In particular, you would vastly benefit from Basic Defensive Theory, before you began Archmagic.”

Erick paused. “Really? He’s teaching it—” He said, “Oh. Right. Kiri said it was a non-standard course.”  

Krigea looked off to the air, as a tendril of thought wiggled between her and elsewhere. She looked to Erick and said, “You’re only a week late for the new semester, and while that is easy enough to catch up on, the Headmaster would prefer to start Archmagic after midterms, in five weeks. If you are amenable to this idea, of course.”

“Two months? Okay.” Erick said, “That shouldn’t be a problem.” He said, “If financials become a problem I can just go hunt more wyrms.” He called over, “Right, Teressa?”

Teressa softly smiled, saying, “Aye, sir,” as she ate her pancake.

- - - -

Basic Spatial Magic had Erick sitting in a corner in the back of an auditorium of two hundred students. Kiri sat on one side, Krigea on the other, while Poi held near the back wall, standing with a few other bodyguards. Erick was obviously not the only big shot in the class room, but he was the only person over 40 in the audience; the other people with bodyguards must be young nobles, or something like that.

Of the class itself, Erick felt lost. Over the course of an hour, Erick discovered he had literally no idea what the fuck the professor up front was talking about. He also discovered that he needed to read at least three books before trying this class again. There was a lot of math involved; Erick was completely out of his comfort zone. So he just sat there, looking at the numbers the professor put on the board, vaguely knowing what they were, but not understanding how they all went together.

Kiri seemed to love the class, though. She zipped right along through the books, exactly in tune with the lesson plan going on up front.  

Erick left that auditorium feeling drained, but there was no time to feel tired. The next class was already starting.

Basic Culture and Law was all about wars and treaties and history that Erick had never heard of, but he did get the distinct impression that his first opinion about what ‘The Law’ meant, was correct. For most of the world over, law was a byproduct of the various dictators around the world. Veird was a world of cities and enough countryside to grow enough food, and not much else.  

Lunch came soon enough.

After lunch came Enchanting. All the professor talked about was taken word for word from the textbook, about using the rhymes in the textbook and pure metal and the appropriate amount of rads to pay for one instance of the spell, in this case: [Force Bolt]. If done correctly, meaning exactly how the book instructed, then the outcome would be a wand of [Force Bolt], with 1 charge. There was no space for ingenuity. There was no room for change. There was only the textbook.

A minor altercation occurred when one student raised his hand and the professor called on him. The student stood up, then looked back at Erick, then directly at the professor, and asked about other possible rhyming schemes. The professor shouted the boy down. The student rapidly sat back down, as the professor glared directly at Erick, and went right back to his lesson.  

Erick kept his face perfectly even and innocent. He stayed for the rest of the lesson, because getting up and leaving would be a rude disturbance. The professor continued to teach from the book, sometimes reading whole passages, word for word.

And then the day was over.

In front of the picture windows of Windy Manor, Erick sat on the couch on one side of the tea table, with Ophiel on his lap and a book on Spatial Magic in his hands. He read about math, and diagrams, and edge cases, and tests other people had done, all while channeling mana through 8 Ophiels, across the ocean to the farms of Spur.  

Papers laid spread out on the table in front of him, along with books of all kinds. Occasionally, Erick would switch from one book to another, trying to understand what he had just read. He did not understand a vast majority of what he was reading, but he understood some of it. When he got to the book on [Teleport]’s history, he understood that one a lot better, though it was still dense, with too many names and too many locations and not enough maps.  

Kiri sat on the other side of the table, on the other couch, also reading.

- - - -

Erick stood on the front lawn of Windy Manor, and practiced [Teleport]. He had never really practiced the spell, because it always worked how he wanted it to work, until recently; until he wanted the spell to work how it wasn’t supposed to work. The problems, according to the books, was history itself.

[Teleport] was originally not part of the Script. Even a century after the Sundering, the scattered peoples of the world were dying due to a hundred different reasons, from the Rage of the Orcols causing a world wide war, to the new monsters unlike all that had come before, to the death of all the Halfs, including the Old Dragonkin and the death of the original dragon settlement in the northern forests of Glaquin. No one was safe, anywhere. All of the Alvani had just been killed by the Old Demons. It was a tumultuous time. And what was worse, was that cities under siege called for help from the rest of the world, only for that help to arrive too late. Civilization itself was dying.  

Ultimately, the monsters of Veird were too strong.  

[Teleport] was the solution to this problem. It allowed help to move around the world. It linked people and cultures. It strengthened the backbone of Civilization, and allowed people to fight against those who could not use such magic, like the spreading wyrms, and the Raging Orcols, and the monsters.

After decades of horror, [Teleport] proved its power. Problems were contained, or solved, or learned to live with. But then came the aftermath, where [Teleport] was used, and then abused, almost causing yet another apocalypse. And then Rozeta changed the spell.

For the rest of history, up until today, [Teleport] has remained the same: a difficult spell, purposefully made that way, that only shifts for those who truly know what they’re doing, or for Champions. Erick had no real idea what he was doing, and he wasn’t about to become a Champion; not today, anyway. His only hope of progressing on this spell would be to use some knowledge from Earth.  

Erick conjured a thin wall of stone, maybe an eighth of an inch thick. He put his hand on the wall, and imagined a tunnel from his side of the structure, to the other; a hole, a [Gate]. [Teleport] merely put him on the other side of the stone. He turned around to look at the wall. He frowned. He tried again, and again. And again. Nothing changed; he just [Teleport]ed from one side of the wall to the other.

As the sun began to set, Erick summoned two [Teleporting Platforms], then set them vertical and apart, like two doors separated by five meters of air. Both of the platforms were completely identical, right down to the ‘teleport’ symbol carved in white Force into the stone. Erick pressed his hand against one, and cast [Teleport], imagining a tunnel connecting him from one platform to the other. Erick popped out of the air next to the other platform, with no blue box, and no [Gate] summoned between the stones.  

Erick channeled mana through [Teleport], revealing a second white hand that trailed his original as he moved his arm through the air, like he was seeing double.

He hummed. He activated [Detect Intent Aura]. Twilight became a snowstorm as Erick channeled mana through [Teleport]. He saw his own hand, and the secondary hand, exactly as he had seen them without [Detect Intent Aura], but with the aura, the brightness of the secondary hand was more than enough to overcome the snow in his vision. Erick slammed his infused hand against one platform, imagining the second hand going all the way to the other platform, still hovering five meters away.  

Imagining the second hand moving did nothing.  

Erick expected that. But he had another trick up his sleeve. Erick had played around a lot with [Teleport]. He had gotten more than enough skill with the spell to ‘halfway-activate’ the spell; to choose the destination without actually appearing there. Upon choosing the destination as the second [Teleporting Platform], the second white hand vanished. Erick frowned. He lifted his hand from the first platform and chose a different destination, one right next to him. The hand appeared in the air beside Erick. Okay. That made perfect sense. Obviously he couldn’t see the secondary hand when it was out of sight. Duh.

With a little bit more testing, and with the sight granted to him by [Detect Intent Aura], Erick discovered that he could ‘control’ the white hand by adjusting his own [Teleport] destination. Occasionally, he overshot his ‘half-cast’ of [Teleport] and actually [Teleport]ed, but mostly, Erick learned a bit more control. Soon, he was wiggling white fingers, while his flesh and bone fingers stayed still. And then he realized what he was doing.

Erick moved the ‘target’, exactly as if he was choosing a destination for his [Teleport].

“Oh my gods,” Erick said, disappointed in himself. “The duplicate hand is the destination. Right. This is what I am proving to myself, isn’t it.”

Erick cut his [Detect Intent Aura]. The snow over his sight vanished, and so did the control he had over the white hand, or rather, the controlled white hand vanished, only to be replaced with the normal, uncontrollable second hand he usually had when he channeled mana through [Teleport].  

Erick turned [Detect Intent Aura] back on. His ability to control the white hand came back. Or, no; that was wrong.

He flipped his detecting aura on and off, and quickly came to a conclusion: while he was channeling mana through [Teleport], the white hand was the destination, but he could only see that destination when his detecting aura was active. Otherwise, he just saw the normal, secondary white hand that was normally present when he channeled mana through [Teleport], that he had no control over.  

What was [Teleport], exactly? Did Erick simply switch places with the ghost whenever he used it?

That had to be it, right?

So how the hell did [Gate] work? It sounded like a tunnel, but… maybe it wasn’t?

Erick dismissed one of the [Teleporting Platform]s, and turned the second one horizontal. He sat down on the edge of the second one and stared out into the twilight sky. He had missed the sunset, the sky was already dark. Ophiel fluttered to the platform and nuzzled against his side. Erick patted the tiny guy as he thought.

Soon enough, Kiri came outside, saying, “Dinner is ready.”

Erick hopped off the floating platform and went inside, still thinking. After dinner, he wrote down his thoughts, and went back to studying. After studying, and seeing nothing in the text that lined up with his own experience, that was enough for one day. He went to sleep, feeling slightly unfulfilled.  

- - - -

A knock struck the door to Erick’s room, and then again.  

Knock! Knock!  

Erick managed to open his eyes just in time to see Poi open the door, and Ophiel leap into the air. Ophiel trilled in flutes at the unexpected disturbance, his feathers flaring out. Erick silently agreed, as he sat up in bed.  

“Sir.” Poi eyed Ophiel as he said, “A Blood Cloud has been spotted in the Crystal Forest, about 150 kilometers north of Spur.” He added, “You’re not expected to kill the monster, but it is being offered to you as the second line of defense.”

For five seconds, Erick processed Poi’s words. The first thing that came to him was that he should have been much more worried about being woken up; they could have been under attack. Erick’s heart pumped hard, as visions filled Erick’s mind, of dark spiders in the shadowy corners of the room, and blood on the floor.  

After breathing out the tension, Erick said, “Okay.” He added, “I remember that one. It was in Mog’s notes.” He extracted himself from his covers, and said, “Okay. I’ll kill it. Where is it right now? Has anything already been done? Wait.” Erick paused. A cold pit opened up in his stomach. “You said ‘second’ line of defense. What happened?”

Poi said, “The Blood Cloud will reach the city in five hours. The city has already tried to turn it away, but with all the new people in town, organizing a kill squad is a lot more dangerous than Mog expected. Several rookies went out and got themselves killed, thinking their long range spells were long range enough. Now people are arguing.” He added, “Mog is hoping that you can just ‘deal with the thing’, sir.”

Erick sat on the edge of his bed, and thought. He said, “Maybe I should reposition for this. It’s faster and cheaper than summoning seven Ophiels, which I’m going to have to go anyway.” He blinked hard and forced himself to wake up. [Teleport]ing over the ocean at this hour? Crazy! Erick stood, saying, “Nope. No repositioning.” He sat back down and summoned five Ophiel, almost bottoming out his mana. As soon as they came into being, Erick strung the six Ophiel he had into pairs, and sent them [Teleport]ing across the ocean. He looked up at Poi, and now at Teressa and Rats who stood behind Poi. “Hello, you two.”

Rats said, “We’re here if you need us.”

Teressa nodded, her grey armor glinting in the light. “We have mana potions, too.”

Erick said, “Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need them.”

Erick Meditated, his mana returning quick enough. Ophiel was already somewhat positioned across the ocean, so Erick helped him get into the proper positions. Soon, Ophiel formed a chain that stretched all the way to sands north of Spur. Erick let his mana come back to him as he hopped the easy [Scry] connection between his [Familiar]s, making sure everything was okay.  

Erick came back to himself, and asked, “Poi? Where’s the monster? Precisely?”

Rats stood in the doorway while Poi sat in a chair opposite Erick’s bed, inside his room, with lines of intent radiating from his slightly bowed head.

Poi came back to himself, lifting his eyes to look at Erick. He sent, ‘Here’.

An image of the battlefield came to Erick.  

- - - -

Three moons hung near-full in the cold sky; pink, silver, and white. They bathed the Crystal Forest in light enough to walk the sands without worrying about monsters in the dark, for there was not much darkness down there; not tonight. But up ahead, this fact did not hold true.

A single cloud loomed in the distance, but it was not like the silver, wind washed, barely-there clouds that sometimes naturally appeared over desert. It was dense and tall and red.  

The Blood Cloud hovered hundreds of meters above the land, but dragged lines, like cables, across the sand. The cables touched upon Crystal Agave, and did nothing. The cables touched upon mimics, and wrapped tight around the suddenly struggling monster. The mimics flailed, but one after another, here and there across the land, the cables pulled the mimics upward, into the seething mass of red light and air, high, high above.  

The Blood Cloud was hungry, and it had already taken Ophiel an hour to get into this position, and for Erick to regain enough mana for a fight. The monster was only four hours away from Spur, now.  

Ophiel trilled out violins into the brilliant night sky, as chill air threaded over his many wings and hundred eyes. A blip of white flashed in the air beside Ophiel, revealing another Ophiel. They looked at each other, briefly, before focusing their many eyes toward the monster up ahead.

The second Ophiel flew forward, racing against the wind, directly at the indistinct, red cloud. 

He slammed into raised tendrils that only appeared after they had been touched. As they wrapped around Ophiel, squeezing, they burst from the inside out with small spikes all along their lengths, trying to inject poison into Ophiel’s body.

A flicker of [Endless Plasma Wrap] trailed out from Ophiel’s tangled body, seconds before the tendrils dragged him into the red mist above.

A brilliant white flame spread among the clouds but it did not get far, for that illumination revealed the creature for what it truly was: a collection of gas bags that were invisible most of the time. One death spell sent one monster falling to the ground, trailing white flame as it crashed to the sand far below.

[Endless Plasma Wrap] was not the solution, here, but it needed to be tested, anyway.

Blood Clouds were horde monsters, like small blimps all crowded together, each with several tendrils each a kilometer long, and each naturally invisible and hidden in a red mist, until they latched onto something. They captured meat on the ground and incapacitated it with the help of their kin, only to drag them up, up into the sky, to a hundred eager maws. They captured meat in the air, too, with invisible tendrils floating out ahead of the horde. If something got within a kilometer of the horde, it was food.

So the solution was simple, really.

Ophiel hovered in the path of the horde. A white sphere of light surrounded him, as thick air spilled out into the night sky. The core of the [Domain of the Withering Slime] held in the air while most of the actual spell fell to the ground, but at an extra push, the ground-bound spell lifted up, into the Blood Cloud, over the gas bag monsters.  

A dense, echoing keening filled the night. The red cloud transformed into a bumbling, shaking, floating landscape of red meaty spheres each four or five or seven meters across. Tendrils thrashed wildly, as monster after monster deflated. They were old birthday balloons left out in the living room for too long, and now they were coming down, one right after the other. They crashed to the sand, bodies piling up, tendrils going slack. Thick air swirled as [Cleanse] after [Cleanse] burst around the downed monsters.

Five minutes was all it took for Ophiel to deflate the Blood Cloud out of the sky. Soon, the sands of the Crystal Forest were layered with tendrils and dried out monster.  

Ophiel flew around, looking for stragglers, layering the land and sky with his aura.

Here and there, more blood bags dropped from the air. They were at the edge of the effect and trying to escape under their natural invisibility. Or at least they were, until [Domain of the Withering Slime] caught them, and killed them.

Ophiel flew around for a little while longer, but could find no more monsters.  

Not wanting to leave all this organic material around for the mimics to feast, Ophiel dropped down to the ground, and began layering [Cleansing Flame] among the piles of corpses.  

Soon, a four kilometer bonfire of clean burning monster lit the northern skies of Spur with a bright white glow. In minutes, all the evidence that there was ever a Blood Cloud at all were the small rads scattered across the land like diamonds on a beach, glittering in the moonlight.  

- - - -

Erick came back to himself.  

Poi stood from his chair, silently nodded at Erick, and walked toward the door to Erick’s room.

Erick stopped Poi before he could leave, saying, “Those kids didn’t have to die. What stopped Mog from calling sooner?” Erick felt a hole in his chest, as he asked, “Should I have stayed in Spur and searched for each and every one of these monsters before I left?”

Rats frowned, saying, “It’s our job to provide a home, not solve every damn problem out there.”

Before Erick could object—

Poi said, “Blood Clouds don’t happen unless the entire cloud is at least level 50. If those kids had managed to kill several, then they would have gained enough levels to gain a Class. They would have instantly become true adventurers.” He said, “It is not okay that those kids died, but they chose to attack the Blood Cloud, ahead of all planning and coordination. As Rats pointed out: The function of Spur’s Army is not to defend people from themselves, but to defend the homeland. While it is sad, those kids’ deaths are on them.”

Erick said, “Very well. Can you tell Mog I’m glad I could help? In the future, we now know that it will take about an hour for any response to happen, so plans should be made accordingly. I can’t change that. Not yet, anyway.”

Poi nodded as he stepped out of Erick’s room, saying, “Of course, sir. I will let her know. Good night.”

Rats saluted at the doorway, and closed the door.

Erick stared at the closed door for a minute.

He dismissed all of the Ophiel except the one in his room. That last one remained on the extra pillow on Erick’s bed. Ophiel trilled in tiny violin sounds, his eyes blinking open as Erick continued to remain upright. But when Erick laid down, back to his sleeping position, most all of Ophiel’s eyes shut.

Erick stared at the ceiling for a while before he managed to fall back asleep.  

- - - -

Morning came, and so did breakfast, and classes.

- - - -

Erick sat near the top of the small, amphitheater-style classroom, with about twenty students in attendance. He had not sat down for long, before Professor Apell Calloway, a green wrought with the shape of a human woman, seemed to waltz in through the door near the professor’s stage. There were small murmurs and conversations happening all around the room, but at her entrance, the talking ceased. Some of the students smiled to see the professor. Professor Calloway returned those smiles with one of her own as she took the stage and turned to her students.  

“Good morning, everyone!” Professor Calloway said, “Welcome back to Dungeoneering! Today we have a guest auditor near the back of the room, but I’m sure you’ve already all noticed, Archmage Erick Flatt. Planar Particle Mage.”

Erick plastered on a smile as the curious faces of the students all turned to him. They had finally been given permission by a higher authority to look upon the famous person sitting in the back of the room, and they were going to milk it for all it was worth. For his own part, Erick played along. He even waved a little.

Professor Calloway directly asked Erick, “Since this is a hands-on sort of course, I would like to delay my bargain of trade for another week. It won’t be a big deal, but I would like to share the results of my bargain with the class, if that’s alright with you?”

Erick spoke up, “Uh! Probably okay? Sure.”

“Good enough for me.” Professor Calloway said, “Now that the obvious distraction has been addressed, back to the lesson plan, students! Eyes front, eyes front!”

Erick had no idea what he had just agreed to, but what was the worst that could happen?

… Okay. A lot of bad things could be possible, but come on! She’s a professor who seems to be loved by her students, and she even wants to share her bargain with the class. It’s probably nothing that bad.

… Erick would not let paranoia get the best of him.

The students, and Erick, watched as Calloway began [Stoneshape]ing a jumble of rocks at the back of the stage into a complicated pillar. At the top of the pillar was an entrance that lead to a series of floors and staircases, all done in miniature, that finally bottomed out in a vast cavern populated by tiny balls of rock that Erick guessed were supposed to represent slimes.

Calloway spoke as she carved her pillar of stone, saying, “We’re going to take a slight detour back toward the last few classes, before catching up on the assignments I gave each of you.” She pointed to the top of her sculpture, where a vent seemed to lead from the top directly to the bottom, saying, “This here is the inlet for the advanced dungeon I have modeled for you. The inlet is important, as it will govern the entire growth of your dungeon. It needs to be open toward the prevailing direction of the oncoming mana, and be a one-way plummet from the surface, to the end of your entire growth zone.

She pointed to the cavern at the bottom of the sculpture, saying, “The growth zone is way down here, and is the starting point for where the mana will begin to condense into slimes based upon the nature of your growth field. Now the best way to get these little critters to grow is to have some sort of non-magical plants and such that can live down in these depths, or some other constant influx of biological material.” She smiled as she said, “For all you fleshy types, the sewers of your cities are perfect for this, and if you take the time to actually visit them, you can learn a lot about how to create a proper dungeon.”

Calloway spoke of twists in the tunnels meant to keep slimes in the dungeon until harvest time, and elaborated on the importance of proper staircase design. You want people to be able to walk in, but for the slimes to stay put. As Calloway called herself a Dungeon Keeper and spoke of valuable types of slime to harvest, from metal slimes to gem slimes, and of how to get them started, Erick smiled, and wondered why Al never called himself a Dungeon Keeper.  

Soon, the remedial lesson must have been over, because Calloway called the first student up to the front of the classroom, where that student then [Stoneshape]ed the pillar Calloway had carved, into something else. Mostly, the dungeon the student carved was smaller; cruder.   

After the student gave a verbal defense of their work, Calloway called on other students to critique the dungeon. Flaws in design were pointed out, from the architecture of the walls that one student thought would collapse as soon as slimes were introduced, to another saying that the mana intake was too small to support the underground structure.

The lesson went on like that, through every student, but after it was all done, the twenty students voted on the dungeons they liked the best, while Calloway held herself in reserve until after the tally. When the votes all came in, Calloway announced the winner, the runner up, and the third place of a ‘textbook’ dungeon that wasn’t even in the running.

In the next class, they would meet at the dig site, and create the first of the three dungeons.

And then class was over.  

- - - -

Erick sat with a circle of seven students, while Professor Rue Downs sat directly across from him, on the other side of the circle. Her white hair framed her white, smiling face, while her ruby eyes looked out across the group. She was obviously happy, and she was not afraid about sharing that happiness with the world.

Joy filled her voice as she said, “Welcome back, everyone. To start us off today, I’d like to ask Archmage Erick, if he has any Esoteric questions for us.”

Right to it, then? That was fine with Erick. Erick smiled, as the group of seven students, and Rue, looked at him. Some with strange fascination in their eyes, others with emotions too muddled to understand at a glance.  

Erick asked, “How does [Teleport] work, exactly?”

Rue smiled softly, as she turned to a human male student in the group, asking, “Tuppert?”

Tuppert shifted from a muddled expression, to pure fascination, to utter terror. He suddenly shook his head, and went completely quiet.

Rue said, “That’s fine. I’ll answer. [Teleport] works by moving a person or object from one place to another, without that person or object occupying the space in between.” She added, “Intent does occupy that space between start and destination, though.”

Erick frowned a little. He wanted more than that.

Rue said, “I see you want more than that.”  

“Well.” Erick admitted, “Yes.”

Rue smiled, saying, “You must keep in mind, Archmage, that the Script has taken a great deal of what the Old Wizards had to do manually, every time they wanted to enforce their will upon the manasphere, and put those techniques into reproducible, always-available blue boxes. The lessons you might get here at Oceanside in spacial magic are how one joins that known path. It’s a good path created by all those who came before, who each contributed a bit of themselves to this grand tradition in order to engrave that tradition upon the Script. If you learn Arcanaeum magic, it will work for you. But it is a path that never shifts. This is both a good thing, and a bad thing, as I’m sure you can understand without me needing to explain.

“But our personal truths also give shape and form to mana. Sometimes this emotive force produces a deeper magic more powerful than what the Script says is possible. Most of the time, though, this ends in failure.

Rue’s words resonated with something deep inside Erick.  

“… Is that true?” Erick asked, unsure if he wanted her words to be real, or not.

Rue shrugged. “It is, and it isn’t. Truthfully, there are many schools of thought to tap into, to reach the pinnacles of power. Some would say my words are sacrilege. Others would find wisdom. The proof is in the cake: both schools of thought have their own champions, and more come out every year, though the Arcanaeum side does have a lot more successes than the emotive side. Archmage Ryul is an Oceanside graduate whose genius at Arcanaeum magic propelled him to his first useful tier 9 spell at age 22, and his second one a month later. And then we have you, who came to Veird with an entirely new kind of magic, never before seen.” She smiled. “Ryul has an entire magical civilization backing him up. You have nothing but a sympathetic, empathic connection to the natural world, and a whole lot of belief, as far as I can tell. But you’ve tapped into something quite real, or at least real to you.  

“So the question then becomes ‘how did this happen’? And the answer is that no one knows. Personally, I think you have tapped into the emotive side of mana, and with a bit of knowledge about how this Reality works, you have given the Script the ability to work new magic for the first time in 1300 years.

“But no one really knows how magic works, except maybe Rozeta but she’s not talking. But we do know how magic works well enough. We know the mana responds to imagination, and with Reality and the Script, the mana creates something tangible.” She said, “That said: there are traditions around the world that each use the Script in their own way, and these other ways of thinking might help you with [Teleport] in ways that the math and the study of Arcanaeum Magic cannot. A lot of those traditions are religious traditions, but we don’t cover those in this class except to mention that they exist. We mostly cover the secular, quiet magics, that aren’t magics at all. From pouring out a shot of alcohol for the fallen, hoping that their bodies don’t rise as undead, to carving eyes around your house in a prayer that whatever danger threatens will be revealed before it draws too close.” She added, “This is Esoteric Magic. This is not an easy path to power. But it is a sideways path. One full of emotion, and imagery, and stuff not directly covered by the Script. Usually our endeavors end in failure, but sometimes they do not. Mostly, we just try to understand the world around us in a way not codified by any Arcanaeum.”  

“I also teach alchemy. So that crops up rather often.” Professor Rue said, “Topics we usually discuss range from alchemy, to thaumaturgy, to superstition, and Luck.” She smiled toward Erick, saying, “This is also most of the same speech I gave last week, for our first class. Do you think you would like to stay?”

Erick wholeheartedly said, “Yes. I’m staying.”

Rue clapped her hands together, smiling as she said, “Great!”

- - - -

Basic Defensive Theory had Erick in the back of a room of two hundred, again, but this time an orcol woman was the professor. Professor Egallia Stomp was a 65 year old woman with fire in her voice and her step, who went back and forth from the blackboards to the students, demanding answers from the audience while her braided red hair flipped around with her movement, and a telekinetically controlled piece of chalk ripped across the blackboard at her discretion.  

Today’s lesson was a continuation of the previous lesson: how to place anti-spell runes around a house. To serve this lesson, she had drawn blueprints on the blackboards, as well as the diagrams for the anti-spell runes she needed placing around the house. Today’s main rune was an anti-[Teleport] rune. But there were also counter-runes for Mana Altering to Fire, and [Stoneshape], set to the side of the blackboards.

At first, her questions and lecture made zero sense at all, because all she talked about was math and design, but as time went on, and students failed or flourished under Stomp’s questions, Erick began to see a pattern in the geometric layout of runes Stomp laid upon those house designs. The layout of a properly made defensive rune array might have had something to do with how mana moved through the air. There was something eerily similar to the Stomp’s diagrams today, and the mana flow methods taught in Calloway’s Dungeoneering class. There was a lot more math involved in Stomp’s designs, but it looked—

“Archmage Erick!” Professor Stomp called to him in the back of the room, as she telekinetically drafted a blank blueprint on the blackboard. “How would you defend this location!”

Erick felt his heart flutter at being called upon, but he quickly steeled himself, and looked over the new diagram. [Ultrasight] was getting a lot of work today, and every other, with Erick sitting at the back of the classroom like he usually did; he was glad for the skill. He briefly thought about Favoring it, but let that go for another day.

… Looking over the diagram did nothing for Erick. As a hundred faces out of two hundred looked at him, he said, “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”

“The only truly correct answer! But still wrong.” Stomp said, “Give me a guess.”

“Short term: Fill it with [Force Walls] to prevent [Teleport]s. Long term, [Prismatic Ward]. Can’t [Teleport] or alter a location like that—” He added, “Unless you have [Ward Destruction]. So then I’d probably hire someone like you to put runes everywhere you feel necessary, and consult you on how to defend against the more esoteric threats. And then of course I’d hire your competitor or similar to make sure you didn’t screw me over somehow.”

A cunning smile spread across Stomp’s face, as she said, “I have very competitive rates, Archmage Flatt, and a perfect track record, no matter the client. Consult me at your leisure, outside of class time.” She turned to a student in the front row. “Same question. But with only anti-[Teleport] and anti-[Stoneshape] runes. Go!”

The student flubbed an answer that seemed much better than Erick’s.

- - - -

Erick woke up at a normal enough time. The sun shone across the tops of the trees, but had yet to touch the house with light. When he opened his door, the scent of baking bread filled his nose. Someone was making something very delicious. He stepped to the balcony overlooking the interior of the house, and looked down.  

Kiri was already awake, as well as Poi. Right now they were decidedly not looking at each other.  

Something was going on. Erick had woken up to some sort of problem.

Erick decided to ignore it, for right now. He went about his normal daily routine, taking his time. Eventually he walked down the stairs to the living room. Kiri was hard at reading her books by then, while Rats, Teressa, and Poi, were all in the kitchen, as Rats pulled a dish out of the oven. It was some sort of casserole, with bacon and bread and eggs and potatoes.  

Erick said, “Looks good, Rats.”

Rats said, “Heck yeah it is.” He put the huge dish on the table, saying, “Good morning.”

Poi nodded to Erick, as Teressa got out the plates and stuck a spoon into the casserole.

Erick looked over to Kiri, who continued to fastidiously read her textbook.

Erick frowned, sighed, then asked, “Okay. What’s going on here?”

Poi said, “There’s been an argument. Hocnihai wanted to come and speak to you.”

Teressa began to pile casserole onto her plate, and dug in, not bothering to participate in the conversation. Rats similarly went silent, as he too, spooned a scoop of breakfast onto his plate. Erick’s stomach rumbled as he looked to the casserole; he liked it when Rats cooked these days. Rats always made some sort of one-pot meal, and though it was never fancy, it was always good. Rats was much, much better about not making random messes, too.  

But Erick had to get to the bottom of this Hocnihai problem.

Kiri continued to ignore the happenings of the kitchen, as she read her book.

Erick asked, “What’s the problem?”

Kiri eloquently spoke, “I wish to understand a man who could at one point in time, champion for the rights of dragonkin in the Republic, then find himself suborned or otherwise by the Wasteland, and turn to the Wasteland, fully. All the way killing whoever was on the other side of the line.”

“And I say she should not even consider the idea of speaking to Hocnihai in this way.” Poi said, “It’s not her place. And besides! He shouldn’t ever be here, anyway.”

“I understand that, Poi.” Kiri said, “I really do. I am fine with unanswered questions—”

A ripple expanded across the front windows; someone had tapped the [Crystalline Air] around the house, near the front door. Everyone turned to look, but it was only Powell, one of the groundskeepers, standing outside the door, holding a small package in her arms.

Poi frowned, then looked to Kiri, his eyes saying that this conversation was not over. Kiri looked right back at him, wordlessly saying the same thing. Poi walked to the door. Erick followed.  

Poi opened the door, asking, “Good morning, Powell.”

“Sirs.” Powell held forward the package. It looked almost like a book, wrapped up in brown paper and tied with twine. “Archmage Hocnihai regrets to say that he is unable to uphold his bargain of trade. Matters have called him home. But he has left this. They are three separate books. The first two are an archmage’s study into [Prismatic Ward] and [Reflection]. The last is a guide on how to spot, defuse, and escape governmental or otherwise control. The last book is illegal in most of the world, just so you know.”

Poi looked down at the package in Powell’s hands. After a moment, he took it. “Thank you.”

Powell bowed, then left, walking away; her job was done.

Poi shut the door and held the delivery in his taloned hands. Lines of intent radiated from his head, inundating the plain plain brown package.  

Erick turned on his [Detect Intent Aura], and Poi’s investigation of the delivery went from a disturbance in the manasphere, to a bright blue cascade of magic. And then it was over. Poi’s blue magic pulled back. Erick saw nothing untoward among the package, either; it looked like a plain brown-paper wrapped object, with a bit of twine to hold it all together. Erick turned off his own aura.

Poi handed the package to Erick.

Erick said, “This solves the issue of actually taking to Hocnihai.”

Kiri stood beside Erick, looking over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Erick Handy Aura’d the package apart, easily slipping three books out of the brown paper. Two of them looked like handmade leather bound journals. One had [PW] on the front in silver foil, while the other had a big [R]. The last of the three books looked like a mass produced guide. It was bound hard green leather and maybe only the size of a hand, while being as thick as a thumb. It read ‘Foreigner Mage’, and reminded Erick of a traveling bible.  

A small letter slipped out of the first book, through Erick’s Handy Aura. Erick grabbed the letter with his own hands, while Poi winced to the side, almost saying something. The letter was just folded paper; no envelope, no seal.

Erick opened the paper and read.

--

Dear Archmage Erick Flatt of Earth, and now of Spur.

It pains me to have to forgo our planned bargain of trade. Death comes for all things, and my time is short. I am choosing to spend it with my family. Hopefully you will not begrudge this old man his final days. Hopefully, my family will benefit from the knowledge you have given me, for I have passed it all along to them.  

If you wish to take the remainder of your bargain from them, they are prepared to trade. The knowledge you have given the world is much more than any one person on Veird could ever afford. My family would welcome you to the Kingdoms should you wish for further recompense, or just to visit.  

Spur has always been a valued member of the Pacifist community. It is truly good to see that someone like yourself has appeared in that ancient city. The Mayor and I used to be good friends.

I hope that these journals of mine, and ‘Foreigner Mage’, will help you survive and thrive on Veird.  

I was able to achieve a good version of [Prismatic Ward] back when I was your age, though I did have 30 years of magical learning under my belt by that time. Some would call my achievement with [Prismatic Ward] a great thing, but for me, it was but one moment in a very long, very confusing part of my life.  

By comparison, you have achieved much more than I in a much shorter time. [Reflection] should prove no problem. [Prismatic Ward] is just a matter of perseverance.  

Good Luck,

Archmage Fredar Hocnihai the Freed, of Veird.  

--

Erick held the letter in his hands, and somehow felt a profound emptiness. He asked, “Hocnihai calls himself ‘the Freed’. What does that mean?”

Poi said, “It means he’s absolved himself of the Quiet War.”

Kiri needled, “Exactly. Which means he was okay to talk to.”

Poi ignored Kiri as he looked down to the green book. “The Foreigner Mage is a banned book in both the Republic and the Wasteland. Holding one in those lands is a cause for censure at the very least. Imprisonment and death at the worst. Though it may not look it, Hocnihai gave you a bomb, sir.”

Erick picked up the little green book. “Really?” He opened the book, and read the first few lines.

--

Take heed, power seeker, truth speaker, monster slayer!

The vast majority of Civilization is a brutal place, and while the walled cities of Veird are a bulwark against the darkness, a different sort of darkness lives inside those walls, and fear turns many good souls toward hate. May this guide help you navigate the traps set forth for people like you.

Foreigner Mage is a practical guide to identifying and avoiding the wildly known tactics by which the many governments of Veird imprison, coerce, subjugate, and brutalize, their high-level populations, with a focus on surviving, fleeing, or negating, the chains that others may attempt to wrap around your body, and your mind.  

Take care, out there!

--

Erick flipped through the first few chapters and saw the possibilities of what a life started in the Republic would have meant.

He already knew that if he and Jane had appeared in the Wasteland Kingdoms, instead of Spur, he and she would both be dead. But with a brief read, if what this book said was true, if Erick had displayed the ability to create new spells in the Republic, they would have either killed him as a heretic, or labeled him a ‘Dangerous Mage’, and wrapped him in tattoos that drained his mana to 0 and put him in an immediate state of Mana Exhaustion.  

Erick sighed and closed the book.  

Poi was still standing beside him, but Kiri had moved on to breakfast. Teressa was going for seconds, while Rats was already elsewhere.  

Erick asked, “Is this book true?”

Poi said, “Probably. I haven't read it, but I've heard of it.”

“Tattoos to drain mana?” Erick asked.

“Common practice for most societies.” Poi said, “It’s a temporary measure in most cases, mainly until a decision has been reached. The experience is horrific for anyone who is not a Scion of Focus. For a Scion of Focus, it just means 0 mana. Spur and a few other cities in the Crystal Forest do not do much of what is in that book; we just banish those who choose to be dangerous.”  

Kiri spoke up from her seat at the table. “Hocnihai is not mottled, and his scales weren’t turning white with age, Erick. They were white from being regrown so many times, after being ripped away to inscribe tattoos upon his skin.” She said, “It’s amazing what you can find out from a few Knowledge Mages.”

Poi sighed, long and suffering. “Knowledge Mages sell their information to all sides, Kiri. This is why they’re illegal in Spur—”

Kiri said, “I know how to talk to a Knowledge—”

Poi spoke slightly louder, “Hocnihai is a dangerous man, Kiri. It’s not as simple as—”

“Hocnihai sent a man here at midnight. He wanted to come in the middle of the night to talk to you, Erick.” Kiri said, “But Poi denied him, to wait until you awoke. So instead of getting to talk to you, Hocnihai’s man returned to the archmage with a ‘no’, and the archmage went rushing off back home.” She said, “He wanted to talk to you, Erick, before he dies, and all he knows is lost forever.”

Poi said, “He came calling at midnight!”

“So what, Poi!” Kiri said, “The man is literally dying! He might already be on the pyre!”

Erick cut further argument short, saying, “Of course I couldn’t talk at midnight. But if he really was dying… A choice was made, and it’s fine.” He held Hocnihai’s books, and felt a deep sadness. “I think I would have liked to have talk to him, though.”

Kiri, wisely, remained quiet. She even managed to keep the smug look off her face.

Poi stood tall, and said, “Of course, sir. I apologize.”

“No need to be sorry, Poi. It happened, and you made a decision. Continuing to do what you do is how we’ve all survived thus far. And that is no small feat.” Erick said, “Don’t worry about it.” Erick walked over to the kitchen, saying, “Now about that breakfast. It certainly looks good.”

Erick dug in.  

When Krigea showed up, Erick bade good night to Rats and Teressa, as he, Poi, and Kiri, went back to Oceanside for the day.  

He left Hocnihai’s books at Windy Manor.

- - - -

Professor Tinawa Ulogai, the man in charge of both Warrior Training for Mages and Ethics for the Warrior, shouted at yet another student on the sandy arena floor. Underneath his full body, pale yellow [Conjure Armor], his words were mostly unintelligible, being as forty of pairs of students loudly fought across the hundred meter space, bashing each other with staves, or swords, or whatever people felt comfortable conjuring. Some even used [Envelop Item] to protect their real swords with a layer of Force.

For the last hour, Erick had switched around from partner to partner, striking with a staff of his own, sparring with strangers, and mostly flinching. These people had no idea who he was thanks to [Conjure Armor] and a full helmet, so they treated him accordingly. Erick ended up on his back more than once, but with an 8500 point [Personal Ward], and a much stronger layer of defensive [Ward]s stretched across the arena, the chances of anyone actually suffering injury were rather small.

Erick was just another one of the students, wrapped in plain white [Conjure Armor] out to get his ass handed to him by people he had never met before. Some of the people here were clearly on the other side of that equation; they were the ones dishing out the pain. Among those dishing out the pain, was Kiri. Covered in green cloth armor and moving like a whirlwind, Kiri crashed through defenses, flipping people up and kicking them away.

And all the while, Professor Ulogai yelled at people who fought wrong. Compared to Draz’s remedial recertification classes, this was about five levels above that. And Kiri was right; a [Conjure Weapon] staff was much better than a [Conjure Item] staff.  

After a morning of getting punched, kicked, tumbled, and launched, Professor Ulogai called an end to the day’s sparring.  

Erick grabbed lunch with Kiri and Poi at a ‘sushi’ joint; Krigea had already moved on for the day.

“That was intense.” Erick said, picking up one of the rice balls with red fish on top. He gobbled it down. It was pretty good, but there was no soy sauce or wasabi on the table, or anywhere, as far as Erick could tell. “And this fish is good, but you guys don’t do what we do with it.”

Kiri’s eyes were bright ever since she left the arena. She picked up a piece of fish wrapped in rice and dark green seaweed, saying, “Professor Ulogai is amazing. I’ve never had such a competent instructor. He saw exactly what I was doing wrong with my feet, and it’ll take some time to get used to, but I think it’ll help a lot in the long run.” She ate her sushi.

Poi dunked strips of pink fish into a clear vinegar, before sprinkling green dust onto the slices. “This particular class is going to get much rougher. This is only the first week. In the coming weeks, you’re going to be dueling with spells. I’m not sure if you should continue this, sir.” He used two forks to put rice onto the line of fish, and then rolled it up, saying, “But maybe you should. You did… not do well out there, sir.”

Kiri laughed. “You were pretty rough out there.”

Erick smiled. “I suppose I was.”

Poi lifted his head toward Erick’s dish, asking, “What do your people do with sushi?”

“The shapes are all more or less the same.” Erick looked down to the vinegar and the spices, saying, “But we have a salty, brown liquid made from beans, and wasabi, which is just another spicy seasoning, though it’s not spicy in the normal way things are spicy— Ah… Hmm?” Erick thought. He said, “Actually, Jane once told me that the wasabi you get with sushi is usually always horseradish. I have no idea what wasabi is, but I do know the taste of horseradish. I could try to make some. I have no idea where to even begin making soy sauce, though. I’m not even going to try that.”

Poi nudged the container of green dust toward Erick. “Try this.”

“I thought you didn’t like spicy stuff anyway?” Kiri asked.

“I don’t. Normally.” Erick tried the green dust on his next piece of redfish, and sure, it was spicy, but…

Kiri said, “That stuff isn’t nearly as spicy as the stuff Erick made at Jane’s farewell party.”

“I was just about to say that the average level of spicy on Veird is not much compared to Earth.” Erick sprinkled more green dust on his sushi, saying, “But this stuff is pretty good. I like it.”

Poi’s eyes went wide as he saw how much Erick put on his sushi. Kiri frowned a little.

Erick ate his sushi, and as his eyes teared, he said, “Now that is almost wasabi.”

Kiri began a giggle, that turned into a laugh. Erick laughed, while Poi chuckled. Each of them ordered more sushi. Fresh fish like this was a real treat, after living in the desert for months.

Soon enough, it was time to go back to class.

Ethics for the Warrior was held on the same arena, with the same Professor Ulogai. Only this time some of the sands had been shifted into rough benches, and Ulogai’s pale yellow, full body armor had been transformed into casual clothing, revealing the blond-haired, blue-eyed, aged and pale human man underneath. He looked like an old general, and spoke like one, too.

Ulogai conjured a blackboard and spoke of war, and the place of the individual in that war. From Ulogai’s words, Erick gathered that almost everyone in the audience was either here pursing an academic education, or mage work, but mostly, they were all warriors, holding the line against the monsters in the darkness, or in the forests, or in the mountains.  

Ulogai spoke of battles fought against wyrms, and what to do if your partners on those battlefields should fall. He spoke, mostly, of the nature of war; war against the monsters, and war against each other. Of when enemy generals launch surprise attacks. Of when monsters invade in the middle of the night. Of when it’s a holiday, and party of citizens reveal themselves as monsterized cannibals. Of the responsibility of the individual when everything goes wrong and all your family is dead and all you have is a thousand mana, [Fireball], a room full of enemies all around you, and no hope of escape.

Of the grim reality that so many people face, every single day, out there, in the forests and mountains and prairies and cities of Veird. Of the need to be hard, and the need to be vigilant.

Erick felt sick to his stomach. But he listened. He learned. He watched. He saw a young kid in front of him puke out all his lunch, as Ulogai went on about a nasty example involving oozes and children. Erick felt sorry for the kid, and for the people in all of Ulogai’s examples.  

- - - -

Back home, and feeling a lot more somber, Erick sat in his chair with Ophiel at his side and read about [Reflection], as he channeled mana across the ocean to the farms of Spur.

Hocnihai was a classically trained mage from Tower Town, and his journal reflected that, with lots of math and runic representations for both [Ward] and [Rebound], and how the skills went together. Erick did not understand how all the math fit together, but he didn’t need to know all that right now. He focused on the smaller notes in the margins, and the larger paragraphs here and there. He read about Hocnihai’s purpose; his journey as a mage in search of [Reflection].  

In the beginning, Hocnihai only wanted to protect what was his. Events unfurled, and that want turned darker. Hocnihai needed to turn back the incani menace, to reflect their sins upon them, and in that singular journey, he achieved [Reflection] after his fifth try. It was easy to redirect spells back at their caster. All magic was based on Force, after all. Hocnihai did not have the best defenses in the world, but he had enough to bring the fight to the enemy. He stayed in the back, and while he mostly protected the other vulnerable casters, he also cast [Reflection] when necessary, sending fireballs, lightning, and ice spikes, all back at the enemy incani lines.

Erick took a break for dinner, then went right back to reading.

The incani incursion struck south from the forests, and from the northern shores of the Republic. The Kingdoms had gained a foothold, and exploited that land grab for all it was worth, killing villages and towns, while harrying the roads between the more distant cities. [Reflection] was not enough. Hocnihai needed [Melee Reflection], for the daggers and the swords and the spears were getting to him. He had almost died twice already.

[Melee Reflection] was not like its spell counterpart, for there was something very different between reflecting Force-derived objects, versus physical objects and other people.

Hocnihai’s breakthrough with [Melee Reflection] came after years of study, when he finally managed to construct a particularly complicated diagram joining the natures of [Reflection] and [Strike]. A Mana-based skill and a Health-based skill made for a very difficult combination. After his breakthrough, Hocnihai waded into battles without worry. He was an unstoppable Warder on a mission: to end the Incani menace forever, for they had taken his brother, mother, and father, and he would take everything from them.

Erick set the book down, and looked at the book for [Prismatic Ward]. He almost picked it up, but it was late. Too late to read more about how one man had fallen to the darkness inside himself, and decided to reflect that darkness back on any who would chose to fight him. Obviously Hocnihai eventually switched sides, but that was a story for another day.

So Erick went to bed.

When he woke up, he started in on the second book.  

[Prismatic Ward] needed considerably more math to understand than [Reflection], and left almost no room for any commentary. How could it, when seven spells were involved, all at once? Entire sections of the journal detailed how each piece of Shaping magic had to be stripped down to their barest, purest essentials, and then locked together, all at once in some difficult, complicated—

Kiri said, “Erick? We’re going to be late.” She added, “If you want to go to Spacial Magic again, that is. That stuff was dense. Culture and Law seemed okay, though.” She lamented, “Enchanting was a drag. That guy just taught from the book, exactly how my old enchanting professor taught. That was a disappointment.”

Erick set down Hocnihai’s [Prismatic Ward] book, and said, “I barely understand this anyway. So let’s go to class.”