by Andrew Rowe
On the positive side, I was more excited about the capabilities of alchemy than I ever had been previously. Just the existence of permanent enhancement potions was a potential for changing lives. If I could find a way to make these enhancement elixirs in a more efficient manner than the established methods, I could not only make a fortune — I could potentially change society.
Of course, I hadn’t even made a single basic potion yet, so that kind of thing was a long way off.
The class did lead me to another important discovery, though. Something the teacher mentioned casually at the end of the class.
“If you’re desperate for a method of strengthening yourself, go to the market and purchase iros fruit. They are a natural food that contains a small bit of gray mana. Eat one each day and you will grow strong in time.”
I did some research on that. Most sources agreed that they worked, but it was very slow. So slow that some sources disputed that the fruits themselves were doing anything, since people could grow stronger mana pools from every day activities.
Still, the fruits were cheap, so I started adding them into my diet. I also learned about other fruits that were said to contain other forms of mana and, grudgingly, I turned on my attunement for a few seconds to look at each of them in the market.
They did glow. Faintly, very faintly, but they did glow.
I bought lavris fruit by the bunches. They supposedly contained a little bit of mental mana, and any of that might help. They looked a little weird. A bit like apples, but with blue skin and more juice. They tasted fine, though. More like a peach than an apple, but tolerable.
Now that I knew about them, I started noticing a lot of other students were doing the same thing. The fruits weren’t served in the cafeteria, but I often saw people walking around with them, or even bringing some with them to regular meals. Apparently, my idea wasn’t revolutionary, but that was fine. As long as it worked, it didn’t need to be.
By the end of the week, my mental mana was up to 27. The gain was much bigger than what I’d been getting per week up to that point, so the fruit was helping... but not enough to catch me up completely.
If I wanted to hit Carnelian before I went back into the tower, I still needed a better plan.
***
The next weekend, I arrived on time at Professor Vellum’s office as she’d directed me.
She wasn’t there.
I sat in a chair next to her door, studying with the expectation that she might never arrive, for a good half hour before she finally deigned to show up.
Vellum walked right past me without a glance, unlocking her door, and stepped inside.
I rolled my eyes, waited about a minute, then knocked.
“Come in.”
Vellum sat behind her desk, sipping from a steaming cup of tea. She hadn’t had the tea with her when she entered. “Well, well. You’re actually here. I confess to a bit of surprise. Perhaps you won’t be my greatest disappointment.”
I sighed, taking a seat in the chair across from her. “I’ll endeavor to be at least your second greatest disappointment, then.”
“Ah, that’s the spirit.” She gave me a wry smile. “I can appreciate a bit of ambition. Now, what are we studying today?”
I pursed my lips. Wasn’t she supposed to guide the lesson?
No, of course not. This was Vellum, she wasn’t going to make anything simple.
“We’re going to work on elemental shielding sigils.” I reached into my bag, withdrawing a few pieces of paper with sketched-out rune designs for a few ideas on how they might work.
She tilted her head at the papers, glanced them over, and looked back at me. “Because you got a little torched in the last test? Pfft. Don’t bore me, Corin. You’re being reactive with that, not proactive. That means it’s only going to solve a very specific problem.”
Vellum shook her head, setting her cup down and pointing at one of the papers. “This won’t work.” She flipped it right onto the floor, looking at the next one. “Better, but the central sigil is wrong.” Flip. “This one is worse than the last one, but the third sigil is interesting.” She slid it back toward me. “You can finish them on your own.”
I picked up the discarded papers from the floor. “Thanks.” I folded them gingerly and set them back in my pouch.
“Now, what are we going to study today?”
I frowned. I didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. Something more like the sword, with unique or hard to find runes?
That wasn’t what I wanted. I spat something out without even thinking about it. “I want to make something that continuously makes me stronger.”
Vellum grinned. “Ah, now that’s interesting. An item that feeds mana to the user?” She leaned forward. “Possible, possible. Suitably ambitious and interesting.”
“Aaand,” she poked me in the forehead, “you’re only asking so you can run away from one of your problems. So the answer is still no. Try again.” She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.
“Last try, or today’s session is over.”
I sank down in my chair. I’d liked that idea. So, in a moment of spite, I said, “Fine. I’ll research that one without you.”
“Oh?” Her eyes glimmered with an inner light. “Will you now?”
I sat up straighter. “Yes. And not just to ‘run away’, as you put it. Regardless of whether or not I start training my attunement in the way you want me to, something that passively feeds the user more mana would be incredibly useful.”
“Oh, yes. We’re in agreement. In fact, it was one of the first items I invented. I was already a Citrine Mage at that point, of course, but I’m sure you’ll manage something. Eventually.”
My desire to loot Vellum’s office for all available items sharply increased.
I stretched my arms. “Of course. I’ll have to take my time to ensure my design is the best available. In the meantime, you can help me with another project. It’s a mana filtration system.”
Vellum raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean by that?”
“I took an alchemy class. They talked a lot about how difficult it is to make enhancement elixirs, since you go through a lot of work to purify them,” I explained.
“So, they’ve got this complicated distillation apparatus to get the mana into a pure state so people can drink it. I read up, and people have made all sorts of items for detecting the composition of the starting mana and the result — but they always use physical means to evaporate the liquid and purify it.” I didn’t have a drawing to show her for this; I was coming up with this idea on the spot. I just took out a piece of paper and slid an ink pen and inkwell over.
“I’m familiar with the concept, of course. Using mana on the base liquid just taints the result.”
“Right. But what if the mana you were putting into a vial was already in a pure state?” I started scribbling down some mind runes on the page. “We build a device that has all the types of mana stored in it in small amounts. They all self-refill. Let’s call it a glove, like the one I wear. I put it on, it senses my mana. I push mana through it via whatever process I’d normally use to liquefy my mana.”
I hadn’t figured out exactly how to do that yet. I’d read up a bit, though, and it didn’t sound that hard. Getting excited, I continued. “So, then the gauntlet detects the composition of my mana, and it adds whatever types it needs to compensate for the impurities. The result?”
I left the answer open so she could share in my enthusiasm.
Professor Vellum sighed. “Your hand explodes.”
My face went through several contortions before finally settling on unhappiness. I didn’t like my hand exploding. “What? Why?”
“I’m sure you’re thinking about that ‘opposites nullify’ tripe that Teft likes to throw around, yes? But that’s not true within an object. You let fire and ice meet inside your glove? Lose a hand.”
I grimaced, but that sounded solvable. “Okay, maybe the filtration could happen
while it’s flowing out.”
“It doesn’t matter. Adding energy to the liquid isn’t going to just target the opposite component within that liquid. You’d be saturating the entire mana formula with that energy. You’ve got fire mana somewhere in the solution, so you bombard it with ice mana. The fire mana is nullified, but now you’ve got a solution that’s tainted by ice. It’s no better.”
I sighed in grudging understanding. “Okay, so I’d need to be able to inject exactly the right amount of mana into exactly the right parts of the solution without tainting anything else. That sounds hard, but possible.”
“Oh, it is. It’s just also harder than the normal distillation process.” She took a sip of her tea. “But don’t despair. It’s actually a good idea. You’re trying to improve an existing process, and that’s the core of what true enchanting looks like. You’re questioning established methods. I doubt this particular one will bear fruit in the way you proposed it, but you should keep thinking about it.
“Not here, in this meeting,” she clarified. “Study. Think about the problems in your current approach and how to solve them.”
I nodded gratefully. That was probably the most encouragement she’d ever given me. “Okay. What about for now?”
“What about for now? I’ve turned you down on three ideas. You’re done for the week. Come back next Wyddsay and have something better for me.”
“Okay.” I paused for a moment, thinking. “But before I go, I’d like to work on some items for the test, and I need funding. You’d mentioned giving me some items to work on that you could sell?”
“I haven’t forgotten our arrangement, but it seems to me like you haven’t been practicing your mind magic enough to be useful yet.”
I tensed my hands. “I’m pretty sure I can manage some basic item commissions.”
“Basic isn’t what sells, boy. But,” she relented, “I do have a few things you can work on.”
Vellum opened a drawer in her desk, withdrawing a small stack of papers. She passed them over to me. They were all intricately-written enchantment designs, many of which used runes that didn’t even resemble ones I’d seen before.
“You may start with these.”
I scratched my chin as I skimmed over the first few designs. They each had at least a half-dozen runes, many of which I didn’t recognize at all. “These look pretty... involved.”
“What were you expecting? Anything of significant value is going to take effort, Corin.”
Fair.
“How much of the sale are you taking?”
The professor grinned. “Ah, I was wondering when you’d ask. Fifty percent.”
I narrowed my eyes as I considered that. “Fifty percent of net or gross?”
She chuckled. “Well, since you thought to ask, I’ll be kind enough to say net.”
So, half of the earnings from each item was going into the void. That was rough, but if she was giving me the designs and selling the items, it was probably worth it. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to front me the materials?”
She folded her arms. “You want me to take a cut of the net gains and provide the materials? What sort of business do you take me for?”
“A very kind and helpful mentor working with a promising would-be apprentice?”
She snorted. “Your optimism warms my shriveled heart. No, I think you’ll need to figure out your own source of materials. Otherwise, I could lose money from this arrangement, depending on how much you fail.”
I chuckled. “I appreciate your boundless confidence in my abilities.”
“I’m exactly as confident as I should be. This will be simple work, but it will not be easy — especially with your mana limitations.”
That made me grimace, just as it was intended to. “I’m grateful for your help regardless.”
“But if you’re really having material problems, you should think about a better way to solve that. A longer-term method. That’s the last hint I’ll give you.”
I nodded, picking up the papers and wishing her goodbye as I left the office. I didn’t pick up on what she was suggesting immediately, but I let it swim amongst the other ideas that were gradually forming in my mind.
Vellum was a pain, but she was probably the best mentor I could have hoped for.
Chapter XIV — Test Prep
I had nine weeks remaining to finish as many of Vellum’s designs as possible, get rolling on our own items — if I could afford to make any — and finish any other preparation I needed for the second exam. It sounded like a lot of time on the surface, but I’d only managed to make a single Carnelian-level item in the last ten weeks, and now I wanted to make dozens of them in the same period of time.
I’d written down everything I needed to make the items for my friends. I was a long way from being able to afford any of them, but I also had no idea how much Vellum’s items were going to sell for. I’d looked at the prices of goods at a couple shops, but I hadn’t been focused on cataloguing that information, so most of what I remembered was “everything is too expensive”.
That was something I decided to fix.
After a few hours of sorting through Vellum’s designs and taking notes on what they probably were meant to do, I headed toward the Climber’s Court.
I nearly ran right into a man who was on his way out. Fortunately, he reacted quickly and dodged out of the way.
The man looked like he was in his early twenties, with clean-cut short brown hair. He was wearing a long gray coat, similar in style to the ones we wore as students, but lacking the colorful epaulets that marked a specific division. He was clean-shaven, with unmatched swords on his hips. At a glance, he looked rather dashing.
More importantly, he had an attunement mark that I’d never seen.
I’d been seeing attunements since my childhood, but I’d never seen one that looked like that. It was a foreign mark; one from one of the other towers. I knew that dozens of other attunements existed, of course, and I’d even seen a few during large social events and the occasional sporting event. But this one stood out in another way, too.
Now that I knew about attunement levels, I had a pretty good idea of how common each of them were. Most adults seemed to be Carnelian-level. That seemed to be where most soldiers, teachers, and other professionals stopped. This guy was at least a Sunstone Mage, which put him in a similar category to Teft or Meltlake. Pretty impressive for someone of his age.
So, when I nearly blundered into this guy, I admit that I froze up for a moment. He probably could have taken my head off with a flick of his hand.
He just laughed, taking a step back and folding his hands. “Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to nearly clobber you there.” He extended a gloved hand. I managed to shake off my stupor long enough to give him a hand-clasp.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment as we shook. “You look familiar somehow.”
I tried not to look too intimidated by that. “Corin Cadence,” I managed.
“Oh!” He released his grip, grinning and stepping back. “I thought I knew you. Tristan and I went to school together.”
I must have winced at the sound of my brother’s name, because the stranger’s expression sank. “Ah — I’m so sorry. I just remembered... I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. It’s been years now. Thanks for being so considerate.” I managed to peel my eyes away from his mark to glance his face over a little more carefully...but he still didn’t look familiar. “I’m sorry, I fear I can’t remember your name.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry, you were probably still a child last time I visited. I’m Derek Hartigan.”
“Pleasure to meet you again, Derek.”
“Likewise!” He glanced downward, frowning at something. “That sword you’re carrying... is that for sale?”
I was a bit taken aback by the question. “I hadn’t considered it, but probably not? It’s has a degree of sentimental value.”
“Ah, of
course. Not a problem. I’m just something of a collector of rare weapons.”
Had he recognized my weapon at a glance? I didn’t realize it was that famous... But maybe he had another attunement that was helping him identify it?
Or maybe he just had a strong mana sense? I didn’t know much about foreign attunements, and I wasn’t sure if he had one that was of an information gathering style. I’d need to research that.
“Sorry to disappoint you. I’ll let you know if I’m ever looking to sell it, though, or if I come across any others.”
He looked pleased at that. “Excellent. Well, I’ve a Survival Match to win later today, so I must be off. You’re welcome to come watch if —” he cut himself off. “Ah, but you’re still a student, aren’t you?”
I glanced down at my very distinctive uniform, but decided not to make a big deal of it. “Yes,” I said simply.
“I suppose you’d be too busy, then. But if you happen to have the time, we’re starting just after six. And I could get you in without an entry fee.”
“Survival Match?” I asked.
“Ah, haven’t seen one yet? It’s a competition. Warriors in an arena lasting as long as possible against summoned monsters. The team that lasts through the most rounds of monsters wins the prize.”
“Is that... safe?” It didn’t sound like it.
He chuckled. “Of course! The Summoners can always force their monsters to stop attacking, and we always have Menders on the sidelines. I think you’d enjoy it — your mother was an expert in her day, you know.”
I... hadn’t known that. Honestly, I knew very little about Mother’s hobbies.
“...I’d be interested. Let me see if I can make the time. Where is it?”
He reached into a pouch, took out a piece of parchment and wrote me an address. “It’s at the Esslemont Arena, just a few miles from campus.”
I took the slip. “Thanks. I hope I can make it. If not, maybe we’ll see each other around again sometime.”
“I’d certainly hope so. Stay well, young Cadence.”
“Good luck tonight.” I flashed a polite smile.