by Pirateaba
“Calvaron!”
“Well, he didn’t! Remember the smell? And he was old. But he was in charge of a lot of lessons, and so the council wanted another of the oldest and most inactive mages to take on the job. Unfortunately, that would have meant choosing Belfore—he’s a Preservationist, just like Yim, the other teacher who was taking on a lot of classes. But that would have meant that the Preservationists were essentially doing all the teaching, and they didn’t want to let that happen in case it became precedent. So they insisted that the teaching be taken up by mages from all factions, which led to, among others, Rievan getting tapped for the job.”
“He’s not that important. So he got the job.”
“I see. But what about Illphres? You said she was important?”
“Yes, well, the Centrists—they’re the ones who want us to make every mage in the world part of Wistram and declare ourselves a nation—they’re always fighting with the Isolationists. And they really don’t like Illphres, so they nominated her. And she’s got a lot of enemies so they passed the vote and made her take the classes.”
Beatrice smiled.
“Simple, right?”
“No!”
Ceria clutched at her head while Pisces nodded and kept asking more questions. Ceria went off to get dessert—a lovely bread with sugar baked into the crust and glazed with honey. Mages ate well at Wistram, but this was a treat. She returned to the table and suffered through more discussions of politics. Pisces looked hurt when she suggested they leave.
“You don’t find this interesting? There’s so much depth here!”
“Depth is for people who want it. I came here for magic, not politics.”
Ceria groused. But she had one thought. She turned to Calvaron and Beatrice.
“What about Amerys? Does she belong to any faction?”
The two older students blinked at her. Calvaron slowly shook his head.
“Amerys? Some factions wouldn’t have her simply for what she’s done. Others might, but Amerys has never approached anyone. The mage of the King of Destruction’s Seven stands alone.”
“She has friends.”
“More enemies than friends by a long shot. No, Amerys is alone, for all she’s an Archmage. I’d walk clear of her if I were you. No one forces her to do anything. And she’s unpredictable at best.”
“Like when she went out to fight the Sea Serpent. That was a surprise.”
“Not really. You know she likes battle, Beatrice.”
“I thought she did it to gain favor with the Revivalists, or maybe the Centrists.”
“Her? Hah! Never. Now, I can see one of the other Archmages doing that. Old Verdan Blackwood for instance could have taken down the Sea Serpent, but Amerys volunteered. Do you know what happened after that? Pisces, you’re not going to believe this…”
Somehow, it was dinner time before the conversation ended. Ceria and Pisces loaded up their plates with more food and chatted with Calvaron and Beatrice for another hour until Ceria decided they really did need to get back to their rooms to study.
“I can’t believe we talked for six hours!”
Ceria exclaimed out loud as she and Pisces headed back to their rooms. He only smiled, looking as happy as she’d ever seen him.
“It’s wonderful isn’t it? This place is such a haven of learning. I feel like I’m right at home when I have discussions like these.”
“More like a place to get fat. I ate too much.”
“Good food, magic, and interesting people to talk to. What’s not to love?”
“Rievan. And Illphres. And Charles de Trevalier.”
“Well, besides them.”
Both students laughed as they went back to Pisces’ room. There they pulled out the spellbook and stared at it. Ceria wanted to learn another combat spell, and Pisces was still staring at one spell he claimed to half-understand already. After a while, Pisces spoke.
“They’re betting on us.”
Ceria raised her head with a frown.
“Who are?”
“Beatrice and Calvaron. I heard they’ve put money that both of us will pass the exams.”
“People bet on who’ll pass? Wait, of course they do.”
Ceria sighed. She felt annoyed that Calvaron and Beatrice were treating her getting into Wistram so trivially, but Pisces took the opposite view. He smiled at her.
“Don’t be angry. If they didn’t like us or care they wouldn’t have made the bet. I think they’re trying to help us. They give us tips and secrets for free all the time, don’t they?”
“I guess. It’s just—we’re going to need more than a bit of help if we want to be sure we’ll pass.”
Ceria sighed, dispirited. Pisces raised his eyebrows and tapped the book in front of them.
“That’s what this is for. Look here—I’m certain this spell is in fact [Flash Step]. I had to get to one of the encyclopedias to look it up, but the spell’s description seems to match this spell exactly!”
Filled with sudden interest, Ceria peered at the spell. She nodded.
“You could be right!”
Then her face fell.
“But there’s only three weeks left until the exams. Not enough time for either of us to learn it.”
“I think I can do it. At the very least, I want to try.”
Ceria stared at Pisces. She knew he was smart. But this? [Flash Step] was a Tier 3 spell.
“You’re going to try?”
“Of course. And you can learn [Stone Fist] as well. If we work together, we’ll pass the exams.”
Pisces grinned at her. Ceria felt her heart pounding in her chest. Just heard it. She smiled at Pisces, and held up a fist for him to bump his cautiously against.
“Definitely.”
Wistram Days (Pt. 4)
Wistram was a world unto itself, with a different set of rules, a different kind of people. And yes, Ceria thought to herself as she cautiously opened her door, a different sense of time.
This early in the morning the hallway was empty. Seemingly empty. But Ceria knew better than to step out incautiously. She whispered a spell as she stared hard at the floor and ceiling.
“[Detect Magic].”
The world faded. Colors became less vivid in Ceria’s eyes, while others sprung out at her, as if they were the only real things in a blurred reality. And so when she looked again, Ceria could clearly see the hex that had been drawn on the flagstones in front of her door.
“Of course.”
It was a spell that would make the ground slippery like grease. Ceria moved to destroy the hex and then paused. She glanced suspiciously around the hex, and then peeked her head around the doorjamb. That’s when she saw the second, far less obvious spell about to go off.
She gritted her teeth. Ceria pushed mana into her hands and raised it. A jet of flame scorched the stone and disrupted the fragile matrix of the trap spell. The half-Elf grimly watched both spells disappear as she dared step outside at last.
“A shock spell? Dead gods. Those damn Human—”
She caught herself. She didn’t know it was a Human who’d cast the spell. But she was pretty sure it was.
“Charles de Trevalier.”
Ceria muttered his name as she stalked down the corridors towards the banquet hall. She was in no mood to wait for Pisces to get up—he usually woke up late unless they had class in the mornings, anyways. So Ceria contented herself with grabbing some fruit and a piece of cheese and eating alone at one of her tables.
Two weeks had passed since she and Pisces had stolen the spellbook, or rather, reclaimed it from the library with Cognita’s help. It wasn’t really stealing, actually. True, other students had found the book and probably been intending to retrieve it, but as Ceria and Pisces both pointed out to each other, they hadn’t gotten to it in time.
Therefore the book was rightfully theirs, or rather, Pisces’ property. Still, neither student had told a soul about what they’d done, even Calvaron or Beatrice. A secret like
that would be worth a huge amount and Ceria didn’t want to risk having a bunch of older students angry at them.
Especially not at this time. There was less than a week left until the exam that would decide everything for Ceria. In five short days, she’d be tested on her magical abilities and Skills, and demonstrate what spells she’d learned while studying here.
In truth, this was as much of a test of her abilities as a student as it was her prowess as a mage before she’d arrived at Wistram. Ceria had heard from Calvaron and Beatrice just what the tests measured.
“They’ll look to see how powerful you are and whether you picked up on the lessons. If you’re talented in either respect, you’ll gain points. So a good mage could get accepted on their abilities or someone who’s mastered every lesson could get in solely based on that, but it’s best to be outstanding in both areas.”
They’d be measured in many different areas, from their ability to control fundamental magic, to how they analyzed enchantments and held their cool in battle. There were several tests Ceria had practiced for, but it was the last one, a grueling obstacle course where the students would be allowed to use attack spells to get to the end quickly, that she was focused on.
After so long, Ceria knew how she ranked among the prospective students in Wistram. It was common knowledge; the entrance exams were the subject of quite a number of bets and power games, again according to Calvaron.
Your ranking was critically important, but Ceria knew it wasn’t the only key to passing the exams. How much wealth you had—or your family had—and whether you were well liked by any influential mages could also be key.
Unfortunately, Ceria hadn’t made any strong connections with anyone but Calvaron and Beatrice. She had no wealth besides the money she’d scraped together for the application fee. So all she could rely on was her talent.
And to be fair, Ceria wasn’t bad at magic. She had a higher level than most new students, and she was also quicker than most at picking up each lesson. However, the key here was ‘better than most’. Ceria wasn’t at the top of her class; she was only gifted.
That wasn’t reassuring. And to make it worse, Ceria knew someone who was consistently at the top of any class he took.
Pisces.
She hadn’t realized it at first, but after nearly a month of hanging out with the young man and becoming friends, Ceria had realized he truly was a prodigy at magic.
Pisces could pick up a spell twice as fast as Ceria could. Worse, he had a finer control over his magic. His lightning didn’t spark all over the place, and he could remember almost everything he was taught in class with his memory alone.
It made Ceria incredibly jealous at times. She knew Pisces couldn’t help being gifted anymore than she could give up her race’s affinity with magic that let them channel mana better than any other species. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel that in a few days he might be the one to stay while she left.
Hence, her decision to wake up so early. Ceria glumly chewed down the last of her fruit and finished the cheese. She normally liked to eat meat—morning, noon and night and for a snack—but she couldn’t have a full stomach for what she was about to do.
Leaving her dishes where they were—a Golem would come by and pick it up if some other students didn’t levitate them to another table—Ceria headed towards the entrance of Wistram. In truth, she’d had little reason to leave the academy before now.
The half-Elf took a breath of the crisp morning air and then scowled as that crisp air turned out to be full of water. She spluttered as a wave crashing against the rocks of the isle sent a spray of water into her face.
“Nature.”
She groused to herself as she stomped down the winding steps that led down to the large stone pier. The isle that was Wistram was really very small, in truth. Aside from the towering citadel that seemed to reach into the sky, there was only the docks and a separate bay where other ships could disgorge their cargo. Both were built out of stone and could hold dozens of vessels at a time, but Wistram had no grass or open areas to speak of.
All that was inside. Ceria had actually seen a large plaza filled with grass and trees in one part of Wistram, the top open to the sky. The magics that made up the citadel were such that the finite building that represented the outside couldn’t hint at the full expanse of Wistram on the inside.
And yet today, Ceria left the steps and made her way down to a bunch of large boulders that protected Wistram from the direct impact of the tide. This early in the morning she saw only a few other mages about. Ceria found a secluded spot where she could stare out across the ocean and took a breath.
“Time to practice.”
The first thing she did was hurl a few orbs created with the [Light] spell. The shimmering spheres hovered in the air in front of Ceria, some relatively close, but others floating up to a hundred feet away. Ceria took a deep breath, and aimed carefully at the nearest one.
“[Stone Dart]!”
It was her favorite spell and the one she was most proficient at. The dagger of stone cut through the air with a whistling sound and pierced the center of the first ball of light. Ceria grinned triumphantly as it vanished.
She raised her hand and carefully aimed at the next orb. Ceria concentrated hard to make sure she was right on target; it wasn’t just that she had to aim with her finger. The image of the floating orb was just important in her mind; it could inform the angle and trajectory her spell took.
A second stone missile flew, and again the orb vanished soundlessly. The seagulls circling about the isle cawed raucously and the ocean waves blew up gouts of water while Ceria lined up her next shot.
She was practicing for the combat trial. Ceria knew most of the new students knew only a few combat spells and only Tier 1 spells at that. But she’d actually fought before! True, she’d only worked as Bronze-rank adventurer to make ends meet now and then, but she was confident she could demonstrate her abilities in that section of the exam more than any other.
She just had to make sure her aim was spot-on. Thus, Ceria was praicing hitting the targets as they floated in the air. She’d done it all the time back in the forests around her home, only then she’d hunted animals and shot leaves out of trees. Here she had to make her own targets; she wasn’t about to kill the seagulls just to practice. Unless one of them pooped on her head, that was.
Ceria found aiming at the nearest orbs of light easy. She could hit them in rapid succession once she’d gotten her mental eye in. But past fifty feet her aim grew worse and worse. The wind blew her spells off course and she had to hit each ball of light in the center or she wouldn’t destabilize the spell enough for it to vanish.
The final orb floated tantalizingly some one hundred and twenty feet away. Ceria cursed as she launched dart after dart at it, growing more tired with each shot. She could only fire about thirty or so before she had to rest and she was nearing her limit even with the short break she’d took.
But she was determined to hit it. Ceria waited for the wind to die down and then shot a dart across the ocean. She held her breath as she stared at the orb of light and then flung her arms out in success as it went out.
Only when she had finally shot down the last floating orb did Ceria realize she had an audience. She turned and nearly had a heart attack as she saw a cluster of mages, all far older than any of the students Ceria hung out with—watching her.
These were true mages, the ones who’d stopped being students and now either taught classes or studied magic on their own. Men and women in robes, Drakes, Lizardfolk—standing a ways away from the Drakes—a Dullahan and one of the Stitch People regarded Ceria silently. Ceria saw a bird-man standing next to two women she recognized.
Her heart stopped. There, standing with the mages was Illphres. And standing next to her, smiling slightly was none other than Amerys, one of the King’s Seven.
The Calm Flower of the Battlefield. One of the King of Destruction’s generals, who had conquered a contine
nt and threatened the world. Ceria forgot she was a fellow mage for a second and froze in panic.
But these mages—why were they here? Had she broken a rule for some reason? Only, they didn’t seem angry. They were just watching her. Some looked amused, others, considering.
“Um.”
Ceria could barely breathe. The mages regarded her for another silent moment, and then they moved off, as if they were done. Several leapt impossibly high into the air and floated down to rocks closer to the waves—others simply walked off in different directions around the isle.
Only one mage stayed. Illphres. She approached Ceria, moving slowly, face unreadable. She passed a hand over her lips and then Ceria saw a smile appear. It was slightly mocking.
“Sloppy aim.”
“What?”
“Your aim is bad. You took far too long to hit that last target.”
Illphres nodded slowly to the ocean. Ceria felt herself blush hotly as she realized all the mages had seen her struggle to hit her final target.
“I got it in the end!”
She was angry that they’d seen her, but angrier at Illphres for lecturing her. The mage passed a hand over her face and Ceria saw her smirking now.
“You can hit a stationary target, but you don’t compensate for the wind. If that was a Goblin archer he would have shot you full of arrows by now.”
That stung because it was true. Ceria replied sharply.
“So I suppose you’re telling me you can aim better?”
“Of course. Watch.”
Illphres pointed, and Ceria looked up. She saw only the sky, and a flock of seagulls looking for scraps or perhaps a tasty mollusk washed up by the tides. The ice mage gestured, and one of the passing seagulls suddenly squawked in terror and plummeted towards the ocean. Ice had encased both of its wings.
Ceria bit her lip. That was a masterful shot; she’d barely seen the streak of light that had shot from Illpres’ hand to hit the bird. But killing an animal just to prove a point seemed wrong to her.
But the seagull never hit the water. A few feet before it would have smacked into the surf pounding the rocks around Wistram it suddenly flapped its wings and flew back upwards, still making sounds of distress. Ceria saw the ice on its wings flaking off, melting with rapid speed.