by Pirateaba
So hard. Hard, and—and small. This was all they had, and even that was uncertain. Erin’s heart ached as she looked at Grev, reluctantly helping Jasi hang up clothes to dry by the fire. She thought, and came to a decision, even though it might have been the wrong one.
—-
“Miss Erin…what’s this?”
That was what Agnes said when Erin brought Jasi and Grev to the inn. They stared at the bustling place, wide-eyed and disbelieving, an expression that was mirrored on Agnes’s face when Erin told her what she intended.
“You want to hire her as a [Barmaid]? Well of course we could use the help but—does she have any levels in the class? And what about the boy?”
“Grev can stay here. He can’t work, but he can sleep here. I don’t know what he’ll do every day—I’ll think of something to keep him out of trouble.”
Jasi bobbed a nervous curtsy to Miss Agnes.
“I’ll work hard, Miss. If you need me to haul things or clean up—I can do that. Anything you need.”
“I—well—we’ll see.”
Agnes looked helplessly at Erin. She gave the uncertain Jasi and Grev a big smile and had them sit at a table.
“We’ll—have Safry bring you some food. You two look like you could use some. Safry! And then we’ll put you to work, Miss Jasi.”
As the two sat and Safry came over, Agnes drew Erin aside and spoke to her in a troubled voice.
“I hate to question you, but—do you know what you’re doing, Erin? This seems…sudden. Have you thought all this through?”
“No. Not really.”
Miss Agnes looked somewhat dismayed by Erin’s honest response. But the truth of it was that Erin herself was uncertain. When she’d stood up and announced that Jasi could work at her inn, it had felt right. But now—
“I know you come from Liscor where Drakes are common—but here Drakes are—well, there’s history—”
“I know, Miss Agnes. But I had to do something.”
“You have a kind heart, Erin. I know that.”
But you made a mistake. Erin heard it unspoken in Agnes’ voice. She ignored it.
“For now just have Jasi wait tables. That’s easy. And Grev can eat and sit in a corner.”
So passed the first night. Erin kept an eye on Jasi, and especially Grev. But Grev was meek and even grateful for the food, eating a huge amount until Erin thought he would be sick. But he eventually just passed out in a minor food coma at his table.
As for Jasi, she still seemed stunned to work at such as busy inn. She was constantly serving tables, bringing the food Erin cooked out of the kitchen. And even if she got quite a few glances, Erin heard no audible comments, at least, not while she was in the common room.
She cooked, fried, and served food in her own world of anxiety. Then, when the last of the guests had eaten, Erin found a small room for Jasi and Grev to sleep in.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Miss Erin. Are you sure it’s alright for us to be sleeping here? We have a house—”
“I’m sure. And this way you can help in the morning.”
Erin smiled at Jasi and Grev, keeping her emotions inside of her until they’d closed the door. Then she went to her own room and sat on her bed and put her head in her hands.
“Was that a mistake?”
It felt like it. Erin hated to say it out loud, but she wasn’t sure. What had she just done? It had been so sudden, an impulse decision.
“But what was I thinking?”
Making Jasi a [Barmaid]? Offering her a job? It had seemed like the only option Erin could take. The obvious choice. But now that she was here—
It wasn’t a good fit. Jasi would work hard, but Erin had seen the looks the patrons of the inn gave her. She was a Drake, and unpopular. Plus, she would have to start at Level 1 and work her way up as a [Barmaid]. Agnes had expressed her doubts, and no wonder. Did Agnes even like Jasi? What about Maran and Safry? Would they be afraid Jasi would take their jobs or steal their wages since Erin had hired her? What about when Erin was gone? Would Agnes fire Jasi then and there?
And when Erin left…could she take Jasi with her? Would the Drake be willing to go back to Liscor? What about Grev? He wouldn’t be happy in that city, and the Liscorian City Watch was hard on crime, especially by Humans.
Especially after Lyonette.
Erin tossed and turned in her bed. She knew she’d made a bad choice. But could she just leave them there? But now—she’d taken then out of their home. What could she do? Jasi might have lost her job since Erin had taken her away! Could Erin just give her money and tell her to go back if things didn’t work out?
She didn’t know. Erin lay sleepless in her bed, trying to figure out what the right answer was. But she was only sure of one thing. One simple thing: of all the things she could have done, the worst thing would have been nothing.
She’d made her choice. Now she would help Jasi—and Grev—as much as she could. That was all she could do.
Exhausted, but knowing she had to sleep, Erin finally closed her eyes. She mumbled to herself as sleep finally overwhelmed her stressed brain.
“At the very least…I have something to do.”
She closed her eyes and slept.
[Innkeeper Level 27!]
S03 – Wistram Days (Pt. 2)
Where did the magic come from? It came from the air around her, the hard wooden desk she sat at, and herself. It flowed through her blood, ran through her hair—it was in her. Ceria reached into her inner self and found magic there. With each breath she took, with each pump of her heart, the magic lived through her.
She drew a portion of it out now, and gave it shape. She pushed, and made the magic condense into a small ball, drawing in itself. Becoming…
Water. The clear liquid flowed into existence, forming a shaft of brilliance in the sunlight. And then, as Ceria held it in place in the air, she froze it.
Water pooled and stiffened, the clear liquid clouding, becoming solid. Ceria watched as the pointed tip of the icicle gleamed, ready to be launched. It was a small missile she’d made—barely longer than her middle finger, in truth. But the [Ice Dart] spell had been designed for rapid-fire attacks en masse. With it, she could turn a Goblin into a pincushion or overwhelm another type of monster.
This dart was of better…construction…than most. That was to say, when Ceria usually used the spell she was concentrated more on speed than aesthetic or form. As a result, some of her darts would have jagged edges or be angled awkwardly, as if the icicles had bent while being frozen. That could cause them to veer off from their targets, or fail to do as much damage.
But this? This was an ideal form of the spell. Ceria stared at the frozen missile floating in front of her and smiled. It was the perfect example of her magical talents, and her superior half-Elven heritage. She’d barely felt the effort of making the spell. That would prove—
“And just what do you call this?”
A hand reached out and touched the floating shard of ice. Ceria blinked as a rather tall, dark-haired man in robes lifted the product of her spell up and regarded it with disdain. He sniffed at it, and then snapped at her.
“Focus, Springwalker. Your [Ice Shard] spell mixes the cold and water aspects together. You are freezing the water you create rather than forming the shape and solidifying it as separate stages.”
His hand didn’t glow red, but for a second the air rippled with heat around his hand. In a moment, Ceria’s [Ice Shard] was gone, evaporated in a puff of steam which instantly dissipated.
“Try again, and this time concentrate. Your spells need to be well-formed, not leaking pools of wasted mana.”
“What? What’s wrong with my spell?”
She couldn’t help the words as they burst from her mouth. Ceria glared indignantly up at the [Mage] who’d dissipated her spell. He stared back, eyes cold and annoyed.
“Your composition was weaker, due to the air trapped within the icicle as you froze the water while making it. I
n addition, the spell itself was not straight—it deviated slightly near the tip. Finally, the point was unsharpened; merely a blunt tip.”
“But—”
Ceria knew it was true. Even so, she felt the need to deny the criticism.
“It’s almost fully correct! Those are just minor details!”
Another sniff.
“Details are what set apart true mages from amateurs. If you wish to lower your standards, Wistram is not the place for you. Try again, and this time concentrate properly.”
Ceria heard laughter around the class and felt herself going red. Blood rushed to the tips of her pointed ears, but she said nothing. She ground her teeth as she focused again on the spell, trying to tune out the world around her.
The man who’d admonished her so casually—the senior [Mage] in charge of this class’s magic lesson named Rievan Forstrom—walked on without a backward glance.
That had been humiliating. And unfair! Ceria tried to focus on her spell again, but this time her concentration was shot. The magic in her and around her was harder to control, and she was having trouble condensing it into a physical form.
There were still people chuckling in the large room Ceria was taking her second class of the day in. She heard one particularly obnoxious voice laughing louder than the rest.
Charles de Trevalier made no effort to conceal his glee at Ceria’s upbraiding. Worse, Rievan didn’t seem to mind. The mage walked over to another student and began talking in a loud voice, lecturing the unfortunate girl about the quality of her spell, a bundle of sparks that was supposed to be the [Electric Jolt] spell.
After he’d gone, and the other students were talking again, comparing notes, complaining, or just making conversation, the young man sitting at the desk next to Ceria leaned over. Pisces lowered his voice so only she could hear him as he whispered.
“I thought the spell was appropriately formulated. I rather think the true crux of the issue is that he doesn’t like you.”
He nodded to Rievan, and Ceria saw their instructor was showing the Human girl how to do the spell properly. Neat, focused webs of lightning flashed from one of his palms into the other. He was certainly critical of the girl, but he wasn’t being nearly as sharp with her as he had been with Ceria.
She made a face. Yes, their instructor for the new students taking the Magical Foundations class did seem to have it out for her. And she was under no illusions as to why.
He was Human. Ceria was a half-Elf. But more importantly, she thought that he might be a Human who’d originally grown up in Terandria, which would explain his dislike for her.
“As if he’d ever tried casting a spell while fighting off a Goblin tribe.”
She grumbled as she tried to form the spell again. Maybe she should give up and try [Stone Dart] or [Flame Jet] instead? But no, he’d probably just reprimand her for giving up on the spell. Pisces looked sympathetic as Ceria tried to spin the water out from her fingertips and hold it in position before she froze it again.
They were in class. It was slightly odd for Ceria to be sitting in this neat room at a small desk—she’d never gone through anything like this growing up—but Wistram taught countless students each year, and they’d developed a process to teach their students as a whole.
One of these ways was giving the prospective students a variety of mandatory courses to take during their first month. Each day, the students had countless lessons and magical theorems and basic spells hammered into them by various mid-level [Mages]. And in one of those classes, this one, the basics of magic were being re-taught to Ceria, much to her displeasure.
Basic magic. Pure magic. People had many names for the subject, but this class had been introduced as elementary magic by their instructor. Ceria hated it.
The study of basic telekinesis, magical composition and fundamental aspects of magical theory like spellcraft were lumped into one category by most mages. It was a branch of magic few practitioners focused on, outside of learning how to levitate small objects and refine their mana flow and so on. Nonetheless, it was vitally important for any mage who wanted to cast spells, and so most mages grew passable at forming their spells properly. A bent [Ice Shard] spell would be far less effective, just like how an poorly-made warding spell might not block all the arrows properly.
It was important, yes, but tiresome. Mages specializing in this rare field liked to refer to it as ‘pure’ magic. Others, Ceria included, thought of it as boring magic. And she was all the more angry because her spells were good, damn it!
She didn’t need to work on her [Ice Shard] spell. What Ceria wanted was to start learning more advanced spells, but she was stuck. Probationary Wistram students took all the classes they could, and Ceria knew that the efficacy of her spells would be tested during the examination process at the end of the month. So she gritted her teeth and reapplied herself to forming the best [Ice Shard] spell she could.
At the desk next to her, Pisces focused on his own spell. He didn’t know any Tier 2 combat spells, so he was casting [Electric Jolt] as well. Rievan had taught the entire class the spell, but he’d insisted that anyone who knew a higher-Tier spell should practice that instead. The more complex a spell was, the more a mage benefited from working with it.
The young man let a spark of electricity jump between his fingers, almost in a straight line. He seemed focused and at ease at the same time—eager to learn, and not at all bothered. He kept talking as Ceria labored over her spell.
“I really hadn’t considered the implications of altering a spell in its base state. Had you, Ceria? Certainly it makes no sense to significantly alter basic constructions and increase the complexity, but had you considered what would happen if you turned your [Ice Shard] spell into, say, an orb? Wouldn’t that completely change the nature of the spell?”
Ceria grunted irritably as she tried to make the point of her shard sharper.
“The mana cost’s the same, and so is the amount of water you can work with. What’s the point? A ball of ice isn’t useful, and round shapes are harder.”
Pisces grinned.
“Well, I was just thinking, if we can alter basic spells like that, what’s the point in learning spells at all? We could just learn basic fundamental magics and extrapolate from there. It might take a long time, but if we could teach ourselves magic—”
“I see you have time to talk rather than practice.”
The loud voice made Pisces and Ceria both jump. She cursed as her attention wavered and the water she was holding in place lost its form. The young man sat up quickly as Rievan loomed over his desk, looking down his sharp nose at him.
“You are new, are you not? Your names is…Pisces.”
“Yes sir.”
Pisces looked ahead respectfully while Rievan scowled at him. He didn’t appear intimidated, just alert and wary. And confident. Ceria didn’t see a bit of doubt in his posture.
“You have not yet been admitted as a full student to Wistram. I suggest you dedicate yourself to studying, while you have time. But since you do not feel the need—show the class how far you have progressed with your [Electric Jolt] spell.”
The other practicing students looked over as Pisces raised his hands. Rievan was clearly expecting Pisces to make a mistake and pounce on it, but to his surprise—and Ceria’s—a steady stream of purple-blue lightning crackled from one of Pisces’s hands into the other, looking for all the world like a bright river of electricity.
Drops of water spattered on Ceria’s desk and evaporated as she lost control of her own spell. She was gaping. Just a bit. Pisces’ control of the spell was immaculate. Both she and Rievan knew it. After a moment, the mage nodded. He looked at Pisces with a hint of respect and addressed the other students as a whole.
“Acceptable. Observe, class. Young Pisces has managed to divert the whole of the spell into striking his other palm, without letting the individual threads of magic separate as the electricity desires. Emulate his example. Learn from it. We will foc
us on the same tomorrow, by refining your basic levitation spells. Class dismissed.”
He whirled and walked towards the door. Pisces paused, letting himself smile a tiny bit. Then he turned to Ceria.
“Shall we go?”
—-
“How did you do that?”
“It’s just a matter of adjusting the spell.”
“I know that—”
Ceria snapped as she hurried after Pisces. She had to walk fast to keep up with him—Pisces was taller than she was, and he had an effortless stride despite the small bag he carried. She was carrying a similar one, and Ceria didn’t like the weight it put on one shoulder. The strap was digging into her flesh. Why didn’t Humans use backpacks? They were more practical, if not as easily accessible.
They were walking through the corridors of Wistram, leaving the class they’d just been in. Ceria and Pisces stopped in a large corridor and found a number of other students—all young, prospective students like them—milling around there.
They were in one of the sections of Wistram devoted to teaching. As such, a branching corridor led to several hallways with classrooms, and it was the intersection here where students could find a class, or walk to another intersection to go elsewhere in Wistram.
“Why are you so amazed? It’s not as if the spell was Tier 3, or even Tier 2. Your [Ice Shard] spell was far harder to maintain.”
“In terms of mana, maybe. But your mastery of the spell was nearly perfect. Even the teacher left you alone! Are you sure you didn’t know the spell beforehand?”
“Very sure. I just don’t find Tier 1 spells that challenging, at least in making them work in the most optimal way. It’s like having a map with your destination circled; it’s obvious what needs to be done.”