July 25th, 5AC
“Good evening.”
“EVENING RUNEFATHER.” “Good Evening, Teacher” “Runefather.” “Evening”
Dozens of voices responded, but the three back rows, the older students, gave one mass, dignified response. The rest just added an awful din.
“Indeed. Now, as I hope most of you have noticed, I've been out for a while.”
Timothy took a moment to really look at 'his' kids. The results of years of efforts and the clay he hoped would self-make itself into some epic form. From a few youngsters at the bottom of 12 to more than a few polishing off the last bit of 18.
There were four rows in front of him. Four separate intakes, though dividing them by years was a rough measure at best. Awakenings happened when and as they pleased, and so too must enrollment. For that matter, not everyone learns at the same pace.
That made for a bit of chaos, especially at the beginning when the danger was the highest and they needed constant supervision.
But it was a problem they’d grown to handle. He’d grown to, for that matter. As a wizard and a teacher. He’d learned not to focus on formalities and schedules. But more on content and actual understanding. And the truth was, the occasional lectures were useful, but hardly necessary as a daily affair.
When you could record not just the text, but the intentions and purpose behind them, it made for a hell of a self-service textbook and that let the brilliant young minds surge ahead, while the slower, but perhaps more stable, took their time.
Although book was a bit of a misnomer. A set of 12 steles surrounded the central dais. Numbered and covered in images and runes. They included most of four years' worth of lessons. Most, because they weren’t quite done with that last year yet.
He’d even built-in limits, restrictions that would not allow further ‘reading’ until levels of mastery were demonstrated. Complete with a series of tests they could take to prove they were ready to cast spells without supervision, when they should start participating in defensive missions and even when they were cleared to leave the Hold for hunting.
It was a masterwork of enchanting all of its own, and one that he hoped would let him beg off this job in the near future. He’d paved the way. Where the school went from there would be up to his successors.
And he was more than ready to make that handoff. He’d buried enough children for ten lifetimes. With a mental lurch, he shut that line of thought down. Chanting the statistics to keep it down. Half of all pathfinders in the non-Union Holds died without training. More like a quarter of those who were individually trained. He’d beat those odds by losing 8 out of his initial 53. If he didn't count the expulsions.
Fact. Not guess, he’d saved a lot of lives.
It helped. But not enough.
“-Considering the rumor mill in Paradise, you probably know what I was doing. But just to clear the air, I was out putting up a new Threshold. Out past Treeholm and a considerable distance into The Deep Dark. Now, I imagine some of you have one simple question.”
He grinned widely then yelled the question in as whiny a child's voice as he could manage, “WHY?”
In a more normal voice, he continued. “Why are we putting in a new fort in a dangerous location that will have to be defended? When we must bleed, losing valuable lives to defend what we have?”
He paused, waiting as he made eye contact. Observing a sizable minority of nodding heads.
“Let's start with these.” With a wave of his hand, a sack at Timothy's feet opened and spat out a half dozen items. From a large block wrapped in rugged brown butcher paper but stamped with a T followed by three I's on one side, to a glowing red-purple fruit, a seven-colored flower and rounding off the set with a large glass vial filled with a shimmering gold liquid.
“Most of it's not from the new Threshold, but all from a Threshold.”
“The meat is indeed Tier 3. A snake and a mean one at that. I don't have to tell you it's value do I?” Timothy snorted and moved on. “The fruit is wild cocoa, harvested from a sky garden in the second layer, the Understory Layer, above Treeholm. For those of you too young to make the connection, that's the parent plant for chocolate! Even besides the medicinal or magical uses, of which there are many, just the taste could make you a pretty penny.”
“But it's not a patch on this sucker.” He pointed to the gaudy flower “Rather verbosely called Seven Radiance. If you brew it correctly it's a powerful spiritual Hallucinogen. Not the happy trip kind, but rather an introspective trance with increased clarity.”
“It can help you find those pesky inconsistencies or small bits of contamination that you missed. That may seem underwhelming to you, but for Guardians it is a godsend and the costs reflect that. A metal coin per bloom.”
“And that brings us to this.” Timothy calmly picked up the vial. “This doesn't have a price. At least not yet. I hadn't seen the beast that spawned it outside of a national geographic magazine in the old world. And I think I'm glad for that. It's the collected sweat, maybe mucus, from the back of a small bright gold frog. It sticks out like a sore thumb and you'd think anything that obvious would get eaten, fast. And it likely would, if it wasn't the most poisonous thing I've ever seen.”
“Look carefully here,” Timothy projected the image of the vial outward, it was a thick chunk of glass, more like a block with a small pocket in the middle than a traditional vial. And around that inner area, there were burn and score marks, already expanding into the glass. “This glass has been mixed with lead and heavily enchanted. It's one of the better magical isolators and as you can see, it's getting slowly destroyed. It won’t keep much longer. Use it or lose it.”
“Now, I know this may seem like teasing. All these lovely things that you know you can't afford. That's not the point I'm trying to make. Call it a bit of hope for you. Someday, you will be able to buy all of this and more. But in the meantime, consider why I chose these four items, and what each of them means to our little society.”
“The Tier 3 meat is obvious. Power and growth. Not just personal, but also the safety of the Hold. The chocolate represents living. Not just surviving, but actually enjoying your life. It's easy to miss that in the drive for power, but you must find a balance. In the same vein, the flower will let you spend less time cleaning out your system after eating Tiered meat, not to mention helping you to fine-tune your persistent constructs. Then finally we have this!” Timothy held up the chunk of glass and the golden poison within it.
“It's a reminder and a warning. There are countless objects out there that will show you new transformations. A bit of enchanting and assuming there is a way to stabilize it, this chunk of glass could be a powerful focus for casting acid or poison spells. Barring that, and much more likely for this first vial, it can be studied. See how its base mana concepts interact, how the chains of meaning inside it unite to tell a story. Use that knowledge to overhaul an existing spell or create a powerful new one.”
“That's what new materials or sights can give us. Not just the physical use, but by studying how they work, we can be inspired, finding new paths.”
“We don't know all of what's out there. But even the little bits we do know offer massive improvements. Shortcuts to the secure and direction to the lost. I know of a waterfall that spans thousands of feet. How water, air and light mana interact in that massive fall inspired my illusionary magics. Letting me skip years of effort.”
“You need to see it.”
“There are glades in the deep Jungle where no sound exists. A natural flow of mana creates a ritual of its own. There are dimensions where colors don’t exist and mountain peaks where you can see a hundred miles out.”
“You need to see them too.”
“Knowledge is power. It’s a concept you have all had beaten into your heads by now. And if you haven’t I haven’t been doing my job!” Timothy paused, grinning wildly as a round of laughter enlivened the room.
“But that covers more ground than you might think. It’s not just books, or steles.” Timothy nodded to the forest of them that circled his seat. “Experience and observation are seeds that sprout into knowledge. You need them. Desperately, even if you don't realize it yet.”
“If you're not ready yet to brave those depths, you can still look at this.” Timothy hefted the chunk of glass again. “The Poison Dart Frog was just a rumor I’d heard about poisoned arrows and pygmies. Now? It's not green but gold, mana supercharged its nature and left us something quite terrifying.”
“But this bit of liquid can revolutionize poison and acid spells. Once I'm done looking it over, I don't doubt that I'll be able to sell it off for at least 3 metal coins-”
“Sold! When can I pick it up?” A soft female voice spoke into the ears of everyone in the room. Not loud at all, but perfectly understandable.
“Sure, three metal coins and it's yours, Spiritmother, but only after I finish categorizing it.” Timothy responded mildly.
Timothy waited a few moments, and when no response came continued. “Call that a freebie lesson. Be careful how you act, you never know who's watching.”
“Can you show us how to block that, Runefather?” A second year asked. Timothy dug for a moment before placing him. Argyle. Decent start and focusing on shadows and dust. A bit of illusion with a side of inevitability. Ambitious, but not nearly as talented as he thought he was.
“Nope.”
“Umm. What? Why not?”
“Because, as far as I know, it's only people that spy on each other. That means I'd be teaching you how to deal with your fellows, not with beasts. I generally don't do that.”
“You don't think we'll get into fights with each other?” The boy asked, doubt ripe on his scowling face.
Timothy sighed. “Of course you will. If history has taught us anything it's that humans will always be our own worst enemy. That doesn't mean I'm going to help you do it. I'm quite sure you can figure it out on your own.”
All completely true, but only a small part of it. The socially acceptable part, but hardly the most driving. He was the chief offender when it came to spying and he wasn't about to spite himself.
“Back to the thresholds. The harvestable riches are only part of the story. The next part is for all of you.” His eyes pinched up at a series of muffled complaints. “What? You didn't realize you were problem children?”
Smirking he continued. “I've known that for years! More seriously, not just for you but for all of the children. The young need a place to grow. A place where they can fight reasonable battles and be blooded in fights they can win. Perhaps even, one distant day, reach adulthood!”
He smiled widely, even if they didn't. “It’s a fine line. Safety and comfort are great concepts for happiness. They’re pure shit when it comes to growth. We can’t have babysitters around all the time removing all the risk from your lives. But at the same time, you won’t learn anything besides how to die in a fight with a Tier 3 beast.”
“The Thresholds are one of the ways we get around this. We've curated a zoned ladder. A set of hunting zones where the strength is fairly uniform in each. Close to the holds we've pruned it back to the occasional Mid Tier 1 alpha, with entirely Low Tier 1 minions. Push out a half day and it rises to high Tier 1 alphas and a commensurate increase in the minions.”
“Only when you cross out of the Riverlands and into Threshold territory will you see Tier 2 beasts with any frequency.”
Timothy paused to drink deeply from a small clay bottle. “It’s not perfect because beasts can and do grow. Just like you, they can evolve from weak little minions to the ones that should come with their own boss music. Close to the Holds we have spells to detect that sort of thing, so even if they do evolve, it will be only a small step up. But a step that can still kill you if you’re not careful. Or good.”
“That process gets less reliable out at the Thresholds. We still try, but with more wild territory and fewer hunters it's not always possible to keep the stronger standouts culled.”
Timothy paused as a twinge went through his mana at his blasé description. “That's not quite right, let me try again. It's never possible to completely cull the area. It is possible to pick off the top critters semi-regularly.”
“But if it's so difficult on the edges of our territory, what about outside them? Where the only culling done is by another beast that gets to eat those culls? Do you imagine that ever more powerful creatures aren't evolving in that circle of life? And, worse, do you imagine they stay out there?”
“Of course not! There is a nearly constant migration of stronger beasts impinging on our territory. Predictable really, our vaunted ladder is a power vacuum, and nature abhors a vacuum. Now, if we do things right, then Humans fill that predatory niche. If we don't, why something bigger and nastier will put us in our place.”
“This is the third purpose of new thresholds. Bait and trap in one. The mana tied up in their defensive wards is a beacon, letting humans navigate in that trackless twilight world, but also an irresistible treat for strong beasts. They want that mana. And we give it to them. Weaponized of course. So far it's been enough.”
“Anyway, enough of that. Take a short break, and when you get back I’ll have a quick demo, then ask you all how you’d accomplish the same task.”
Timothy waved them up. Pulling open a cupboard built into the side of the dais, and levitating a large flat slate circle from it. With a wave of his hand, the stone floor rose up into a knee-high pedestal, supporting the disk while leaving it visible to the raised rings of the classroom.
He spent another few minutes pulling various bits and pieces from other cupboards and hiding them under small woven grass mats. Cloth was far too dear for such a pedestrian use.
Finishing up, he glanced outward. All but a few seats were filled again. Good enough.
“We're going to take a look at a few Materials, figure out what they're made of and possibly brainstorm a few things they might be good for.”
He pulled one of the mats off a gnarled chunk of wood. It was a deep red color, its rounded sides polished and the top he showed to the class sporting a beautifully circular grain structure, interrupted somewhat as the peace wasn't from the direct center.
“This is heartwood from a forest giant. A Kapok tree to be specific. And this-” he pointed to the stone disk. Its top was graced with a star of David with runes lining each deeply carved and silver-filled line. “-is how I divine its aspects.”
He pulled out a basket full of aspect tokens and deftly demonstrated their purpose, and how to fix them to the casting circle. He kept it moving, letting the students pick which symbol and/or elements he should include with each cycle, till the class as a whole agreed on the wood's basic properties.
An evolution that took most of a half hour. A far cry from what it took to do it himself, and with much less detailed results. In other words, a great start! Expecting more from their first try would be foolish. Especially when the hows and whys were more important as a foundation than results.
For now.
He repeated it with a chunk of copper. A well-used and loved clay tea cup and even a few fist-sized blueberries to compare against the mostly poisonous Akee fruit. He spent a bit of extra time showing them how to identify and isolate the poisonous portions from the edible or even delicious. It was a test as well, if they failed then they were in for a pretty painful night considering the quantities he offered them to eat.
All around, a pretty useful class.
“Alright, alright. Settle down out there, please. I'll let you out shortly. First years, I let you sit in to inspire you. These are the sorts of things you can do in the future if you work hard, and are very careful. Let me reiterate. Very Careful. Don't jump the gun. We’ve buried too many of your seniors already.”
He hesitated a moment, then opened a box in his mind. A place he kept sealed away most days just so he could function. Grief flooded outward in a flood of memories. Names and images. More than a dozen bright lights guttering out far too early. He watched it strike them like a physical blow, reeling beneath the lash. Blanching and panicking with tears dripping down their faces. With the youngest, it was merely empathy forced on them, but the older children fed back into it with memories of their own. A loop of pain and guilt that should not be forgotten, but one that they couldn’t afford to wallow in.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
With a gesture of negation, Timothy forcefully banished the aura, locking each child into their own skin for a few moments while he forced his own box closed again.
“I have enough blood on my hands already. Enough to drown in. Please.” He paused, looking for words. “Please, don't add yourself to that pool. Be patient. Repeat the exercises you’ve been taught, get your intent stabilized and under your conscious control. Then these steles and your own imagination will guide you the rest of the way.”
“Second years, your homework is to theorize a method in your own style to analyze materials. It’s a task your seniors have already accomplished. Some are good at it, some aren’t. But they all can do at least the basics. Everyone is different, with different talents. It's a rare person who is good at everything. I’d say impossibly rare, but who knows what time will bring. In the meantime, variety is a spice and here in Paradise I trust you know what that means?”
“It gets overused?” Count muttered, with a snap of his fingers Timothy made the words echo through the room. Count just rolled his eyes.
“Something like that.” Timothy grinned.
“Third years, as a whole, I wasn’t happy with the last set of material analysis you handed in. Too shallow without any of the tertiary influences referenced. Thankfully I have the cure for that.”
Timothy waited a half beat, then raised his hand and waved it down like a conductor. “PRACTICE!” The room responded tiredly.
“Exactly so.”
“Even simple everyday vegetables and fruits can have surprising aspects if you bother to look. I expect each of you to find something new and interesting. And not just from the surface level.”
“Fourth years get the fun stuff. It's not enough to explore the materials, I want to see you use them. I want to see your original creations. Match a spell or enchantment to a material and show me you can leverage its meaning. I expect to see a demonstration of synergistic, antagonistic and transformative effects overlayed to maximize a specific purpose.”
“Understanding why spells work the way they do is critical for all casters. And that extends to enchantments as well. You need to understand why the material does what it does too. Take your time and dig down a bit. Make both sets of aspects and meaning work together in whatever narrative you are using. Make the result impress me, hmm? Also, note that I said original, no copying something you've seen me do. It also means you don’t ask for help from your girlfriend this time, Pepper.”
“Sorry, Rune Father.” The energetic, petite redhead muttered contritely. Timothy let it go. It was one time and he did have some sympathy for overactive hormones.
“I think two weeks should be enough. I’m opening my materials closet to you fourth year’s. Have fun with it. But?”
He paused waiting to see if they were paying attention. They didn’t disappoint. En masse the three older classes chorused, “Nothing paid, nothing learned.”
“Exactly so. I’ve a number of crappy jobs, easy ones mind you, just unpleasant, that need doing so feel free to go wild. I had to spend several hours earlier on a sewer system and I would love to pass such jobs off on your deserving shoulders!” He paused, grinning at the groans and utter disgust on their young faces.
His projections might not have to smell anything when he didn’t want them to, but they didn’t have that advantage. It wouldn’t be the first time they'd had to clean out shit, climb through the mud while working plant growth spells or a dozen other jobs that would make Mike Rowe blanch.
They needed the practice and the Union needed a lot of infrastructure work. Two birds with one stone. Three really, when you consider how valuable a bit of arrogance reduction could be. It was hard to look down on the world when shoveling out a stall full of pig shit.
Not that he let them be taken advantage of. The fees reflected the task, and all of it went to them. Much to pay off their outstanding debts, but never all. Every student was charged with a fanatical degree of precision, for everything they received. From food to housing, to the amortized costs of classrooms and teachers.
Not because he wanted to take advantage of them, quite the opposite. Making it all free was a trap, leaving them in his debt, and thus vulnerable to both his requests and his magic. When they left his care, they’d be free and clear of all obligations but those they willingly took up.
And he was pretty strict on who made those ties.
It wasn’t an impossible task to pay those debts off either. By the time they were several years in, none of them were untrained or unblooded. They had the skills and power to reach above the manual labor section. Most dabbled in hunting, with their fellows or occasionally a group of guardians.
There’d been some pushback at risking them like that, but Timothy refused to interfere. They had as much right to fight for resources and glory as new guardians did. And if not all of them made it back, then that was a cost they had to bear. Hothouse flowers could not be put in charge of the wilderness.
He’d do them no favors by shielding them too much. It would be a trade of a trickle of deaths now for a flood later. As future leaders and wizards, they had to possess the wisdom to know their own limits.
He gave what advice he could on risk versus rewards. Even arranged for their first few outings to be alongside experienced guardians. Beyond that, he could only hope for the best.
“If you want to source the materials yourself feel free. I approve of creativity. But, as always, the results good or bad, are yours to keep. So don’t half-ass it. You must build up a library of spells, foci and enchantments. Even if you're not planning on joining a hunting party, I trust the regular wall duty has made an impression on you.”
“No one of your standing can afford to be helpless. Not now, and especially not when you head out on your own.” He didn't say graduate because he wasn't even sure if that was going to be a thing. It was a politically difficult issue to grade them, deciding who got his seal of approval for certain jobs, and who did not. That didn’t mean he had to rubber stamp anything. He’d just have to be clever in how he went about it.
He paused to make eye contact across the room. They really were great students. He could tolerate anything but laziness and ingratitude. The dumbest bastard could be taught if they were just willing to work at it. Work extremely hard, no mistake, harder by far than the smarter students, but they too could make it.
He was willing to help. Sometimes getting more out of them than they ever imagined. But he wouldn’t bother if they took his help for granted. Nor would he train someone who’d stick a knife in his back later.
Nor could they hide such from him. He knew them far better than even they suspected. It took time, dedication and even talent to hide your intent.
He could spot the mooches and backstabbers with ease. Anyone who’d bite the hand that fed them got a swift boot in the ass out of the school. They could live, or die, on their own.
He’d once thought such behaviors were learned, not inherent. He wasn’t so sure now.
Fortunately, even if it was nature, not nurture, it was a rare one. More, his students were already self-selected to an extent. Self-awakening didn’t happen without a deep well of self-motivation and a go-getter mentality. Laziness was actually fairly rare. Untrustworthy was a bit more common, but not more than 6 were so twisted he hadn't been willing to try to fix them. Only six he'd had to kick out. Four died in training accidents.
The remaining two might be a problem someday. Timothy made a mental note to check up on them again.
For those who were only slightly spoiled, arrogant or greedy the world at large was the best cure. It was hard to face death and depend on teammates for your very survival and not figure out how things worked.
Timothy didn't even have to teach it, the world did it for him. What more could a teacher ask for? With an insistence on paying in detail for all they received, he even had an excuse to prevent sycophancy or bribery.
Of course, another description of ‘extremely self-motivated’ was rock-headed stubbornness. Ah well, you couldn’t win them all.
“Any questions? Since I’ve been gone a good bit recently let's call this another freebee.” He'd had to start charging for questions. Private and public. It both stopped stupid questions, encouraged them to find their own answers and made sure that they listened when he explained. He’d found students, like people in general, only valued lessons when they had to pay for them.
He pumped the money back into the school program anyway, he just didn't tell them that. “Yes, Count?”
The 6'6” slender giant was a far cry from the skinny adolescent Timothy’d first met the better part of 4 years earlier. He stood up gracefully, pausing briefly to straighten his posh leather and hand-woven cloth jacket. Timothy wondered and not for the first time, if nicknames influenced behavior or if behavior created nicknames.
Either way, Count was a bit of a clothes horse. He took the British well-dressed and formal to an extreme.
Of course, he could only afford to do so because he was a highly successful hunter. A fact many seemed to forget when they attempted to ridicule the popinjay.
“Graduation is approaching. In a few short months, we will be setting out to make our own mark. Runefather, would you be so good as to advise us on what that entails? What is coming and perhaps a few words about where we should look for a future?”
Timothy sighed, he had expected this, and not with any joy. “You know the compromises I work under?” He checked for nods, no telling with youngsters when one of them might have been nodding off at an inopportune time.
Thankfully, only the newest youngsters were staring at him blankly. He took that as agreement from the older students. It didn’t mean they were listening, but he had at least tried.
“I can't ‘recruit’ any of you. Not for myself or anyone else and while I am honored by the significance you put on my advice; it makes me reluctant to suggest anything.” He gestured for Count to sit down, though the young man’s aura as much as his aggressive posture communicated all the outrage of a stepped on cat.
“I’ll answer what I can from the rest of your question. I have a few irons in the fire for a final test, but you’ll find out about that when it happens.” He grinned widely at the sudden nervous tensions that filled the room. He did indeed still have it. “But regardless of how that turns out, there is going to be a ceremony, which should be disgustingly opulent, and I fully expect each of you to be bombarded with job offers.”
“Loosely, I’d break those offers into several categories. Established Holds looking for enchanting help. Thresholds looking for Hold status. Hunting or group requests focused on making connections. And attempting to form a new settlement.”
Timothy paused, then backtracked a bit. “Not picking is also a perfectly acceptable option. If you aren’t comfortable making a major commitment, then don’t. Travel, gain experience and build up a nest egg for when you figure out what you do want. There is always work available for a Pathfinder. Especially if you’re willing to do utility or luxury enchantments.” A fair number of them had picked up skills in that direction. Besides being a good way to make some coin, it was hard not to want to improve the comfort of friends and family.
Timothy was more than happy that they thought so. It was one more task he could pawn off without appearing lazy. He was ‘giving’ them opportunities!
“I could go into a great deal of detail for each, but I’ll let you do your own research and make your own conclusions. What I will say, is that each of those requires different skill sets, different attitudes and will bestow different levels of authority. Make sure those line up with what you want.”
“I’ll also throw out a warning. I shouldn’t have to at this point, but I will anyway. You will be offered a great many gifts. Bribes if you will. Make sure you know what is expected in return and that you are willing to pay it.”
Timothy paused, then asked with a sardonic grin. “Also known as?
“Karma’s a bitch!” the older classes chorused. And it was, even if it was what he privately referred to as 'white boy karma.' It wasn't some deep philosophical concept of Buddhist monastic fame. But a simple understanding that debts owed had a way of extracting payment, will you or nill you. If you didn't pick a way you liked, it would find a way that you would not.
“Indeed.” He hesitated briefly then continued on grimly, “It applies no matter what you pick. Guardians must look to a Pathfinder. We make the path, they follow it. But following it can get pretty damn expensive. We all risk our lives to blaze the trail. It's only reasonable that we expect a commiserate pay to share those benefits. But it's also only reasonable that anyone with a brain will try to get a good deal.”
“On the nicer end, being best friends with the creator of their chosen path is a pretty decent way of getting discounts. The darker end features baiting you into deep debt, then using the interest on that debt to keep you under their thumb.”
“It rarely descends to the Loneshark level, but it can. And if you get deep all anyone can do is buy your debts. That won’t free you, it will just leave you with a new master. Don't fall for it.”
“It’s a given that every one of you will attract a coterie of hangers-on. And pleasant as it might be to have suck-ups polishing your ego, It’s not a healthy situation. Before you accept someone, as friend or follower, make sure you know why. There is nothing wrong with transactional relationships, but you had best know what that entails before you accept. It's much easier to pick them up than to get rid of them. At least not without leaving enemies behind. Be damn careful who you decide to accept.”
“Having minions of your very own can be a heady thing. But it's not all fun and games. Their actions, good and most especially bad, reflect on you. If they run around pissing people off, it will splash back on you.”
“The same or worse problems will occur if you use this chance to right some perceived childhood wrongs. Morals aside, do NOT sign up some poor schmuck that bullied you as a child. It might be tempting to have them close enough to beat your success into their scrub minds. Don’t do it. It’s happened before and can end VERY badly. Remember always, ‘no matter how subtle the wizard?” He quoted from one of his favorite authors.
“A knife between the shoulder blades will severely cramp his style!” They chorused back. The youngest set flinched and stared backward, horrified. They'd learn soon enough.
“Exactly! Powerful does not mean invulnerable. Don’t go making pointless enemies. Don’t take your exalted status as a license to act like an asshole. Karma may be a bitch, but if I have to clean up after you… well, let’s leave it there.” If he had to act any threat he made now would just forewarn. No point making his job harder than it needed to be.
He was a practical man, but it still twisted his guts to think he might have to someday. People being people, good students or no, it was almost guaranteed. People were not inherently good. Worse, the depths bad descended to was a constant eye opener.
Bensen was an excellent, and very visible reminder. Not the worst example actually, but very visible.
Count, looking decidedly mulish, raised his hand again. “I’m going to regret letting you ask this, aren't I? Haa. Fine, go ahead.”
“I appreciate the advice, Runefather, but can’t you give us something a bit more tailored to each of us? You are damn near a second parent to each of us by now. A bit of direction, please? I don’t think it is asking too much!”
He wasn’t crazy, but that didn’t mean Timothy had to drink the Kool-Aid. “Giving you that direction would break my oath and make me a vast number of powerful enemies. No Count, you aren’t going to guilt me into suicide. I have high confidence in the lot of you. You’ll find your own way.”
Count had the grace to look embarrassed but straightened his shoulders and spoke on stubbornly. “My apologies, Runefather. It appears your oath is going to leave us out in the cold. Without a map to shelter. Might I suggest, that it was an ill-thought oath?”
“You can suggest what you want and you can look at it that way. I prefer to think of it as throwing the chicks out of the nest.”
Probably could have thought of a kinder analogy, but meh. Truth was truth. “You’re almost ready. Trying to dictate exactly what you should do or where you should do it, I have no interest in doing that. I won't clip your wings before you’ve tasted the sky.”
He grinned at the quiet muttering that echoed from the dome overhead. Some in agreement, some following in Count’s footsteps. It didn’t matter either way. The time was fast approaching when they would have to fly. That or impact the ground at a significant speed.
They were almost ready. The world was bright and waiting for them. He just hoped that most would survive the coming challenges. He knew that not all of them would and that unfortunately was how it had to be. Enough room to grow was also enough room to get yourself killed.
He didn't have to like it.
But he did have to let it be.
“Good luck!”
Recognizing a great exit line when he spoke it, his form twitched and contracted on itself like a crumpled piece of paper, growing smaller and smaller till it disappeared entirely. An unnecessary flourish perhaps, but a bit of mystery kept them on their toes. His consciousness disengaged from the collapsing construct and he became aware of his real body once more.
Sitting upright and straight backed on a small hard cushion he looked down into his scrying pool, watching as the students jockeyed around a bit then began to file out, complaining all the while, but doing it softly.
When you were never quite sure if someone was watching it taught caution.
He followed a few of the more rambunctious ‘young adults’ for a bit before blanking the pool. Not that he didn’t trust them… but he didn’t trust them! He’d have to be an idiot to ignore what youth did to otherwise reasonable minds. Hormones were a blessing and a trial.
Standing up he dusted off his pants before rising to his tiptoes and reaching for the ceiling. A long session of teaching on top of repairing the sewage system and repairing the bunkers amplification circles. He'd been sitting still for far too long. Even excellent posture, which he cultivated diligently, could only help so much. It wasn't something he'd practiced in his old life. But it was critical in the new. Sure he could regenerate his body back to the late 20’s, but until he did so, he’d have to live with the aches and pains he created.
He sighed again, there wasn’t much time before his appointment with Jenney and he desperately needed a break. So much time spent on other people's projects. He shouldn’t complain, even in the privacy of his own head, but it wore at him. If only he could skip this humdrum and focus fully on his studies how far would he have gotten by now?
With an effort of will he froze that line of thought. It was disingenuous at best and dishonest at worst. Yes, he’d spent considerable time on small tasks but it wasn’t wasted time. Teaching these last 3 years, and being forced to answer all the whys and howcomes that only teenagers were capable of had really solidified his own understanding of the basics of magic.
Not to mention the new lines of thought opened by some of those innocuous questions. Even his insight into how an enchantment could be best used as opposed to how to best enchant it had seen improvement. It was an important and practical distinction. An optimal enchantment might take a full minute to arrange and cast making it useless for most jungle or prairie combat. Hunters needed practical, useful spells, not the idealistic refuse of an ivory tower.
But if he was thinking about wasted time, apparently he needed to remind himself. He strode over to the access shaft and dropped through the stone plug and down a floor, then through a series of doors and hallways to a specific wall. It was covered in yet another subtle mural, but this one of a bandit's cave ala Ali Baba. There was no 'open sesame' command involved, but it was still a door, of a sort, and it was still locked.
Placing his hand on a large spidery rune hidden as a painting inside the mural he pulsed it active. Allowing it to test and verify that he was indeed the only authorized person on its list. Then he simply stepped through. Holding his breath, he walked through several feet of mana-reinforced stone before stepping out into his vault.
It was more for humor than for the value of its contents that he called it that. The contents weren’t exactly cheap, but neither were they irreplaceable. It was just that they were somewhat private.
It was a simple room, undecorated as he didn't have the time to do it himself and didn't feel comfortable letting anyone else in on the secret. What it did have was a forest of equally spaced pedestals. Each about 2 feet high and a foot in diameter at the top. Each enshrining a prototype of some kind.
A failed prototype, as was appropriate for his Vault of Failures.
A canoe lined in hovercroc leather, propped upright, sat next to a snake stomach fetish. The first was too ungainly to maneuver through the underbrush, and too expensive for most groups to power for any length of time. The next was his first attempt at teleportation. It could already grab a piece of something and transfer it through the magic field to his location, all he had needed to do was make it come out intact on the other side after being ‘swallowed’.
The fetish sitting on top of the plinth was a master enchantment. Delicate and powerful. And a powerful failure. Nothing that traveled the twisting magic path came through intact.
A lead hollow sphere sat on another plinth. An exercise in futility. Attempting to use the nullifying nature of lead to make a defensive enchantment. To strip the meaning from an attack and leave just the mana. Killing the general to leave the troops directionless. It didn’t work. The world craved meaning and while you could go the other way, it was at a steep disadvantage. Lead already had a multiplicative effect on the cost of any enchantment filtered through it, add the two together and it was far too costly to use.
So many plinths, so many failures. None could accomplish what was originally intended.
But!
Each was also still a useful invention. The lessons learned with the canoe eventually created the carry sacks while the snake stomach fetish’s failure led him to the piranha heads fetish weapons. Both were widely used and commanded high prices. Even the lead ball, so unwieldy and frail as a spell defense led to a useful privacy ward.
An even dozen such projects filled the back half of the room. A reminder of failure, yes. A reminder to keep his ego under control. But also a valuable lesson. Even failures were rarely wasted time. Just misaligned. The shadow dimension enchantment might be the same thing. A wretched excuse for long-range travel, but what could it be an excellent use for?
A philosophy as much as anything else. There were no wasted avenues of study, simply avenues he hadn't found a use for. Yet.
A truth that applied outside of enchanting as well. The lesson he taught was not always the lesson his students heard. They would take the damndest direction from what seemed simple and clear to Timothy. Unintended, but not unwelcome. Creativity could turn the simple and commonplace into a brand-new wonder. All he had to do was keep an open mind.
He nodded, refreshed once again. This, this was the proper mindset to have when he went to talk with his sister. It wasn’t just a failure to fix an insolvable problem. It was a way to find new solutions for problems he hadn’t thought of yet.