August 3rd, 5AC
Jonah followed a line of young men and women through a massive pair of arched doors. Each had to weigh 5 times what he did and they were covered, as most things in Runehold were, in detailed murals. In this case, a multi-panel manga-style story that starts with a room with stars on the ceiling and ends with putting on a funny old hat.
It was phenomenally well done, but he couldn’t give it the attention it deserved. He had to work his hardest merely to not trip over his own feet.
This was it! The defining moment for his future and as the cavernous room opened up in front of him, he could barely breathe. Caught between hope, fear and the unknown.
A forest of columns held the roof up two stories overhead but did little to hide the crowds that already half-filled it.
They didn’t hide the equally massive stone steles that held pride of place, scattered around the room, either. They loomed nearly to the ceiling, carved, runed and glowing, even to his barely awakened senses.
Despite the distance, the sheer sizes involved meant he could see far more than he’d expect. He could see human forms tracing out a series of martial art style positions, each image radiating mana and meaning as only intent storage. A complex pattern of tattoos covered the carved body.
On another, a swirl of water and wind danced about each other to unheard music. Unheard until he stared too long and a siren crooned in his ears, telling tall tales of storms and freedom.
He ripped his eyes away and moved on, growing light-headed as each new construct pulsed more meaning than he could accept into his already aching mind. Images and text glittered and gleamed beckoningly at him, but paradoxically blurred in a cloud of sensory overload.
Mana gathered and pulsed through the room in tides, not trickles. The accumulation of meaning distorting it even as it was attracted. Competing concepts waged war, screaming for attention and crowing their own praises.
Then it all stopped. Intent retreated, contained within the stone monuments. Without stimulation, the mana field slowly settled, bleeding the excess back outside the room as things returned almost to normal.
The job fair had begun!
Jonah took a moment to pick his jaw back up off the floor. Dazzled still. That was better than fireworks. Just watching it had stretched his mind enough to count as a willpower workout!
"Welcome Applicants, to the halls of choice." The booming voice shook him out of his stupor. His back stiffened, his hands darted to his side, his head back and his feet moved shoulder width apart. It was a protective instinct, and he didn’t have to think to fall into the familiar position.
Standing on a small stage at the center of the room stood a familiar looming square-jawed dark-skinned man. He wore a hide kilt with boiled leather and bone armor. And he wore it like a uniform. A badge of pride, cleaned, pressed and polished. But for all that, it wasn’t a new set. Meticulously repaired damage spoke to a history that wasn’t a parade ground. It was earned in constant battle.
Ironface. The Captain of the guard, and while he didn’t handle their individual training, he was always there watching. And a single disappointed glance from had their Drill Mate descend into a frothing fit that had left him bruised and sore for several days.
He’d been there from the beginning. Fighting, training and just being the backbone the Hold’s fighting forces needed. Sure he wasn’t a pathfinder, but no one here was. He had everything that a Guardian could have. Respect, glory and power. He was the gold standard, the goal they all dreamed of.
"I won’t waste words, if you haven't reached stabilization, get out. I won't check. I won't ask again. And I won't save you from yourself. The wages of stupidity are death."
Jonah flinched as the older man's intent flooded out with his final words. Smashing into him, the cold dark of the grave, certain death with a burnt-out mind, or worse, a drooling, keening vegetable rocking back and forth on the floor, blank-eyed.
Jonah looked down and found his legs shaking, even as cold sweat beaded his brow. He couldn’t seem to do anything about either problem. His arms wouldn’t obey him any more than his legs would.
Then it stopped, as quick as it had started.
Gasping, Jonah shuddered. He’d reached stabilization himself a bit over a week ago. Exercising his intent until he could contain it. Not perfectly, that was a lifetime of work, but enough that getting excited didn't shatter cups anymore. That contained bubble gave him some protection from the man’s overwhelming intent.
Some, he sneered at himself. Like a cotton shirt in a blizzard!
The silver fuzz on Ironface's nearly bald head gleamed briefly beneath the diffuse blue glow of the Lightshrooms as he waited a dozen seconds, though it felt like far more. At last, he nodded and with a gesture, the thousand-pound stone doors slammed shut. The echoing boom of their closing sounded frightfully permanent.
Jonah flinched again but managed to mostly maintain the position of attention. A fact that left him vaguely proud when he heard scuffling and muted surprise ring out around him.
“This is the time and place for choice. The options are all around you and the attendants at each station will be more than happy to give you details. Before that, there are a few simple truths that need to be said.”
“Truth the first: there is no best path. Only the path that best fits you.”
“Truth the second: Truth the first is confusing.”
Jonah, barely turned a confused ‘huh?’ into a cough. That was…
"That's eggheads for you. They make it sound so simple, so easy.”
“It's not.”
“The perfect fit is a dream every guardian is led to. But it’s merely one factor. An important factor, but not the end all. Every path has requirements, resources, terrain, available mana types and sometimes personal training for tricky concepts. If you can’t get those things, then it's not a valid path for you.”
“What do you want to do with your life, if the path that fits you is designed around ritual casting and meditation, but you want to hunt, then you have a problem. Your dreams and aspirations are what make you, you. Consider that when you make your choice.”
“But Truth the First is a truth.” He began to march up and down their line, staring them down, each in turn. “A path that embraces our current terrain, available resources and fits your life goals is useless without affinity. Too hot, too cold. Neither will work. You want Goldilocks, but will have to settle for good enough. This,” He waved a hand at the array of monuments surrounding them. “-and life in general, is about finding a path that you can live with."
"That is all most of you can hope for. Don't overreach. This is your future. Pick wisely!"
With a last nod, he turned and stepped off the stage, disappearing from Jonah’s sight behind the crowd. A crowd that stood still for a few fragile moments then frayed and shattered into three dozen streams.
People rushed in all directions, though some of the more famous paths collected significantly larger groups.
The German Bodybuilders had a small crowd over to his right, mostly the larger young men, but with a smattering of women as well.
The Brotherhood directly ahead was a pond to their puddle. The guide there stood tall and lethal with a wolfskin cloak, its fanged maw still attached and acting as half hood half helmet.
Jonah considered it for a moment but then walked between them both. He wasn’t nearly large enough for the first, and the second wasn’t time-sensitive. They’d accept nearly anyone. As long as you weren’t a backstabbing asshole, you had a place with the Brotherhood. Something about humans being herd animals at base meant faithfulness and brotherhood were fairly common affinities. And ones you could improve if you were willing to dedicate yourself to that cause.
Sometimes he wondered though. If it was so common, why were there so many good stories started by a betrayal?
He moved slowly, bumping his way through the swirling crowd, until he caught the right stream, falling in behind a dozen others moving in the same direction.
It took longer than it should have, but he made his way towards a ring of 14 monuments, individuals each, but clearly related. The DNDers were a large, powerful faction and their spells were freaking sweet. Big booms with awe-inspiring special effects.
Everything he'd dreamed about since his first cartoon. His first anime.
More, with the faction holding no less than 8 Holds. They’d proved, by surviving, that it worked. It also held enough breadth to offer flexibility. Some wiggle room on what you wanted to do with it.
Unlike most factions, you could share spells across the DnD paths. It was kinda like a cellphone. Everyone had a wall jack in the Field, but America vs Europe meant different places required different plug-ins. Then you had USB-C and whatnot. He reconsidered, the metaphor was getting a bit out of hand.
He shook his head. You had to harvest and store mana of a specific type, and then spells would transform only that specific type into an effect. With DnDers, mana types could vary, but they made adapters! That meant lots of useful spells, a variety in environmental options and a good chance that one of the paths involved would fit.
What was not to like?
He stepped forward, sliding through the loosely packed crowd for a front-row view. There was an open area between the Stele's where a trio of attendants stood over a planter box filled with dirt, about two feet high and ten by ten wide. The trio stood quietly, waiting for a while as the crowd grew and grew, till some magic limit was hit. Then the tallest of the three, 6'8” or so with the physique of a veteran guardian, pushed the hood down from his cloak revealing a blonde beard, shaven head and piercing green eyes.
Jonah didn't realize just how right that initial impression was till he made eye contact. The outside world faded leaving just a pair of green eyes. Eyes that saw far more than they should. Eyes that spoke to him of slow gradual growth, of putting down roots and reaching for the sky, of spread leaves and so much else-
With a start Jonah caught himself and not too soon either, he flailed wildly for a few moments but managed not to take a spill. A fact not shared by everyone. At least half of the ten people around him were splayed out on the ground around him.
Ten? He froze. Where did the crowd go?
He glanced around in confusion, all fourteen attendants had their hoods down and a variety of faces, bearded and not, tan or pale, male and female stared back at him. But the eyes weren't nearly so bright, so vocal now.
He shook his head and turned to look behind him but there wasn't more than an extra two to see. How many were here before? 30? Two-thirds of the applicants gone just from eye contact? What the-?
The tall bearded man spoke, breaking Jonah out of his rising fear and confusion. "Welcome and congratulations on passing the first affinity test. I'm glad to see so many interested in the DND faction and I truly wish we could take you all in. Unfortunately, and it really is unfortunate, that's not likely. That" He gestured upward with two fingers towards his eyes, “-was Elemental Entrancement. A 2nd level attack spell. It beguiles your mind with whispers of aspected mana. If you have an affinity for that aspect, you can hear and be entranced by them. If you can’t, it does very little, making it of limited utility in combat.”
“It’s a quick and dirty way to check for affinities. I’ll repeat that. Quick and dirty. It’s not perfect. It tells us who can't join us, but not necessarily who can.”
A voice broke out from behind. "How do we find out?" The slightly whiny voice could only be Harvey. He fought back an exasperated sigh. There was one in every class...
The representative froze, then like a gun turret he slowly rotated his head to capture Harvey in his sights. "I have veto rights. We don’t need troublemakers or whiners. No matter what affinities they have. So let's not make an ass out of ourselves before we even get started hmm?” He stared Harvey down, daring him to respond. A couple of moments later he nodded and spoke again “If you hadn't interrupted me, you'd already know."
"Elemental Affinities are fairly easy to test for, but they make up less than a quarter of the final fit. Personality, world outlook, goals, desires. Everything matters, and there is no Jedi mind trick, no crystal ball or talking hat.”
“You get to do it the simplest, and dumbest way. Try! We do our best not to let you waste your time, but beyond that, you have to decide. Feel the paths in question, and pick the one that best fits who you see yourself as. Then we see how fast you are at reaching the first milestones.”
“Do it quickly and accurately and we'll encourage you to keep going. If it takes you a lot of time, pain and effort to make a poor-quality construct? Then you might want to move along.”
He grinned at them, wry but with an overtone that seemed almost sad. “We call this the day of choosing, but it's really not. It's weeks.”
“They say," He gestured a dozen applicants forward. “-that is the main difference between guardians and pathfinders. At least besides the whole ‘they make a path that fits them perfectly’ and we have to flounder around looking. It's our mana senses. Pathfinders see the world in 20-20. Guardians though, we have the full gamut of issues. Cross-eyed, near-sighted, far-sighted, astigmatisms you name it. A path is a set of glasses. The better the fit, the better your sight afterward, but it's never the right prescription.”
“It's not a perfect analogy, but I'll push it one step farther. If the strain of using the path gives you headaches and pain, you need to stop and ask for help. Don't try to tough it out, there have been and will be fatalities. Try not to be one of them.”
“Now what does that mean? That we don't have as precise of mana senses? It means we can't always see the complicated bits that make spells work. We see a blob instead of a precise weave. So instead of just looking, and adjusting our constructs till they match, we have to do it by repetition. Make the construct, hold it and watch the mana draw. Then change something and do it again. Did the draw speed increase? Did it feel better? Was the effect what you expected? Then do it again. Slowly dialing it in to get the best response.”
“If you're really lucky, you might be able to buy a bit of your Path Founders time. They can save you months or more by pointing out where you've made mistakes. But they don't have time to do that very often, nor could you lot afford it anyway. So push things as far as you safely can, then get the most out of such a session.”
"That's the general overview, and it's true for nearly every Path in this room. A fact I encourage you to verify. Once you're done here, take a lap and see where else you might have a chance.”
He paused then grinned wildly. “Then come back here. The DnD league is the best choice if you have the fit!”
“With that in mind, it's time to split up. Follow whoever entranced you earlier.”
Jonah patted Conrad on the back and followed the blond beard, grimacing slightly as Harvey came along. Great.
The stone he stood beside was dominated by a massive carving of a tree. A caricature of one at least. With symmetrical deep roots that fanned out almost in a mirror image of the canopy above it. Large fruits hung from that canopy, each inscribed with symbols that Jonah couldn't manage to look at for more than a moment or two.
Nor could he remember what he saw after.
He'd felt that before, the information was too dense for him to handle, and his mind protected itself by letting it go.
“DnDers focus on what the Origins call the Aural Sphere.” The blonde man, he still hadn’t heard his handle, began. “And like all Aura based magi, we start by building up a persistent, personal construct. It's more than a storage place for mana and a set of defensive armor. It's how you define yourself magically. Growth then, is by improving that definition.”
“The two of you have at least some affinity for wood, so My Lady Morgana's 9-level Wizardy might fit you. It's the orthodox DnD lineage with none of the side variants or prestige class nonsense-" He paused as a few neighbors loudly booed him. He grinned and waved back before continuing. "-and the construct we use is that of the Tree of Knowledge. The base elemental alliances are with soil, wood, water and light."
He paused, and taking in their confused expressions chuckled. “That should tell you where to cultivate. Where you can harvest mana the fastest.”
“Since you do have a wood affinity, it's almost a shoo-in that you have some of the others. If you have all of them it helps, but it's not required. There are places, like deep in the jungle, that have high earth, water and wood, but little light. Or the black mangroves in the swamp where water, wood and light dominate the soil.”
“That doesn't mean everywhere is good, Runehaven, for instance, is pretty poor. The earth mana here tends towards stone, not soil and while there's lots of water, well, wood and light are a bit scarce underground. If you want to follow this path, you'll need to relocate. Paradise and Laketown will both work and they're close.”
“Let's talk about benefits. As soon as you reach the first level, Sapling, your self-constructed tree will be large enough to graft. At that point, you’ll be able to pick a number of spells to attach. Between 2 and 5 depending on the quality of your construct.”
“The number of times you can cast each spell is determined by the fruit the spell branches bear which grows with the size of your inner tree. The imagery is simple and easy to visualize, which helps, but each spell fruit will only form if you harvest and push sufficient mana into it. The farther the required mana type is from your base, the more it will cost. Remember that, you can cast nearly any DnD spell, but the costs can skyrocket when you choose poorly.”
“On the plus side, It’s very fast to cast. The mana is already converted and ready to go. You have to prepare it ahead of time, but it's still a net advantage.”
“It’s also how we manage spells across paths. Each grafted spell branch contains a link to the respective Origin’s standing spell stones. Stone monuments much like the one behind me, but dedicated to specific spells.”
“That's the good, now let's get the rough out of the way. The DnD league holds a large number of spells, but only the lowest level is free. You have to buy access to better spell stones. Money works for the first couple, but only contributions will matter beyond that.”
“The Origins have a great many jobs that need doing, and if you want access to the upper levels, why you get to do them! Anything from contributing specific resources, teaching newcomers like you, standing guard shifts, running the odd errand and many many more.”
“And before you get your back up, it's non-negotiable. You have no choice. Not on this path or any other. We get magic and powers you wouldn't believe. Hell, I barely believe it and I'm living it. But it doesn't come for free and don't think you can just get the basics and fudge the rest as you go along, cause it just doesn't work that way. Only Pathfinders can see clearly enough to move forward on their own. The rest of us have to follow the paved path.”
“There is something good in that though. It's much faster to travel a path where many before you have trampled down the scrub and polished off the rough edges. We have a wealth of experience and suggestions to help you travel it safely.”
“Origins have to risk their lives with every slow step.”
He stared at them for a moment, “It's not a bad deal all told. You have to give to get. And you get a lot with DnD for a very reasonable price.”
“Now, if you're still with me, then place your hand on the stone, and feel the construct inside it. No, not like that. Push your intent out and interact with it. See how it feels to your mana senses, look at its structure, how the mana flows. Feel the way its roots dig deeply into the life-giving earth. How water flows from earth to sky and connects the roots to the canopy. Take a good look, you won't achieve this any time soon. But it's good to have a goal.”
“Just don't try to make it all at once, you won't survive. Baby steps, we start over here-” He gestured to the right side of the massive stone where three smaller images stood. First an acorn, then an acorn with roots punching through its outer shell. Then the same image with a twig breaking upward through the surface.
“-This is where you start. The instructions are there, enough to reach the first step. Enough to check your fit. Don’t try to make these images permanent. Form them as spell constructs first and be as precise as you can. Accuracy is more important than speed. It will help if you use this mnemonic.”
He cleared his throat, and in a sing-song voice began. “A seed is potential. It is life. It is content but hopeful. Willing to wait until the conditions are right. I am the seed. Someday I will grow. But first I gather, mana, potential and will. The proper time will come.”
With a gesture a spectral slightly blurry green ball formed above his hands. Over the next minute and seven repetitions of the chant, the ball grew larger and gained definition. Slowly becoming somewhere between an acorn and a peach pit. At every step, Jonah could feel the man’s focus, the emotions he was feeling and the flow of mana he was drawing in.
Not because he was perceptive, but because the bearded man was pushing his intent outward deliberately, forcing them to feel it. Showing both boys not just what to say, but how to feel.
His voice faded away, leaving the vibrant green and brown seed floating in front of him. A ball of potential and stored nutrients, ready to begin its journey.
“Mnemonics aren't magic. They're tricks that guide you to the right mindset. The right sequence of thoughts, actions and timing. Like a dance and a song, it goes hand in hand with magic but isn’t. You don't have to say it, but it will help, and frankly, if you don't grab every little advantage, then you just won't make it.”
He gestured and the construct shattered, releasing the now aspected mana back into the Field, where it slowly deaspected into simpler components. “You're going to go through this exercise repeatedly. Hundreds of times before it’s good or fast enough to make it permanent.”
“So, with that kind of time commitment in mind, if it takes you much more than an hour your first time, you should move on. By the time you're ready to commit, it should take less than five minutes. Train long enough and you might be able to get it under one like me.”
He gave them each a long look. “The Origin can do it with a roll of her wrist and a finger snap. Don’t misunderstand where you stand.”
“Now, I suggest you don’t start on your seed yet. I won't stop you, but it'd be a better use of your time to look around and see what's out there. The stones aren't going anywhere, but the experts are only here and offer free advice at your intake day.”
“Make sure you meet as many as possible. No matter where you end up, having contacts is a must.”
“Just like they're doing.” He pointed to Jonah's left where a group of three were waiting respectfully.
“Don't worry, it won't take nearly as long now that you've been told the basics.” He dismissed them with a smile and stepped over to the new group.
With a nod of respect, Jonah moved clockwise two dozen feet to the next stele. No one was there to bother the attendant, a fact made obvious by his laid-back attitude, and even more laid-back position in a lawn chair made of sticks and vines. With a tired smile, the robed, black-haired man, a small scar above and through his left eyebrow giving him a piratical air, stood up and moved to greet them.
“You can call me Jaytall and this won't take long.” He gestured to the stone behind him where a stone oven showed raging flames pouring out the front.
“If you hit it off with the Tree huggers, then you won't fit the Flames. Now, if you're like damn near every other greenie I've had to explain this to, you'll want to interrupt and say wood feeds a fire. Don't. You don't know shit, so keep your mouth shut to avoid making that obvious.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Dry, dead wood feeds fires. You tree huggers are all life and growth. You just try and set fire to one of the forest giants. Even dead and cut up, it won't burn. Not without a lot of help. Too loaded with mana, too many years of reinforcement spells. Not till you purge every last bit of water and life from it will it burn.”
“So you lot won't be learning this. You're just here to spectate, so pay attention and spectate properly.”
He took a deep breath and flexed, knuckles together at his belly and an oven took shape around him. The heat from it beat at Jonah's face. Jaytall made a soft gesture, and liquid metal ran from the mouth of the forge. With metal running out, what else could it be?
It ran down small stone channels to fill a cast in the outline of a suit of armor, while an already filled and solid form next to it shot into the air, then shot back to coat Jaytall in a solid gray color, green hanging cloak and all.
“The fires of the earth feed me, its metals are my bones and its stones my skin. I dig deep and breathe deeper. My forge will smelt and clean the mana of life, refining in the fires my future.”
With a gesture, the iron skin spell shattered, leaking leftover aspected mana in all directions.
“Now run along.” He waved them onward. Already looking towards the next set with an interested gleam in his eye.
Timothy smiled down at the image of a young boy walking between Steles. The image rippled on the surface of the pool in front of him, while 43 seniors stood in a loose circle around it.
“That doesn’t seem, well, all that accurate.” Count mused, half to himself.
Timothy extended his hand palm down and let it rock back and forth. “There is a thing many teachers do. They express something as a truth that is more of a useful approximation.”
Timothy hid a smile as he felt over 20 sets of intent lock onto him, pushing out their curiosity and confusion. At least he didn’t have to ask if they understood.
He thought about it for a few moments, then reached down to grab a blank stone card. “How long will it take this card to hit the ground if I drop it?”
He paused for a second but didn’t wait for them to answer. Physics equations, even at a low level, weren’t something he wanted to wait on. “We used to be able to calculate it by measuring the height and using the so-called gravitational constant. But it wasn’t. A constant that is. There was a more complicated formula that predicted gravity as a function of mass and distance. The so-called constant was just that equation solved for the surface of the earth.”
“It wasn’t a constant. It wasn’t technically true. But it was useful. With it, you could calculate an accurate time for the card to drop.” He didn’t even try to explain how even that more complicated equation was still a simplified form. He wasn’t Steven Hawking and frankly, it didn’t matter.
“Gravity is one of the more famous examples, but it's hardly the only one. Ever heard of counting the time between seeing lightning strike and when you hear the thunder? Divide the seconds you count by 5 and that’s about how many miles.”
“If you are just curious it works. If you want to know approximately where to look in case of a fire, it probably works there too. But if you are trying to use it to define the speed of sound? Hell no. It’s an approximation, and one that assumes sea level, moisture, temperature and even geography are all average. When those things are not average, it can change dramatically. Does that make sense?”
“If it’s useful, then why don’t you teach it?” Karen's whiney voice interjected.
“Because you are not hobbyists. What works as a rule of thumb does not as the basis for new knowledge. It's acceptable for low-end users to make simplifications. As the creators of those systems, you had damn well better have a deeper understanding.”
Count coughed lightly, “So while what they said is not all that correct, you don’t think any intervention is required to fix those misconceptions?”
Timothy hesitated. “I’m a bad person to ask about this.”
“That’s not a no.”
Timothy shrugged, hunching his shoulders a bit. “My path, my very outlook on life requires precision and accuracy. What they do may be normal, but it's not my normal. I’m incapable of recommending it, but neither will I interfere. If that’s the message other Origins have chosen to spread, then it would be beyond crass for me to storm down there and spout out ‘No it’s not!’”
Count rubbed at his chin, considering that. “You won’t interfere with them, but what about with us? Is he right?” Count pointed to the man already back in his lounge chair.
“Ah, Jaytall? No. It's just his understanding, his comprehension. And not very good comprehension at that. Elemental affinities aren't nearly so binary. On the other hand, Blondie there impressed me.” He was called Hondo, but if he didn't choose to volunteer it Timothy wasn't going to.
“He laid out the chains inherent to the guardian-pathfinder relationship without bitterness or self-deception. He simplified things a bit sure, but he captured the spirit of it pretty well.”
“Does it have to be so... so... Mercenary?” Pepper muttered uncomfortably.
Timothy considered the question, rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. This had to be put delicately. “Everything has a cost dear. Those who pretend otherwise are usually out to sell you something or rob you blind. You cringe at how blatant the costs are, but would you rather they got fully tied to a path, then find out later?”
“Well, no. But you could be gentler about it. It's not slavery!”
“No, it's not. It's a transactional relationship built on an unavoidable monopoly. Once you pick a horse, it becomes very hard to change midstream. That means any pathfinder can leverage their prices to make the first hit free. I trust you know the rest of that story without my help?”
Reluctant agreement pulsed through the massed auras.
“The only thing that stops that sort of behavior is reputation. But that isn’t a small chain. Not just what it will do to your future recruitment, but also what it will mean for any cooperation you get between Pathfinders. We don’t live in a vacuum, and you really can’t afford to offend the powerful without a damn good reason.”
The conversation lapsed for a time as she thought that over. But as they continued watching, another question popped up.
“Are our note-taking Steles supposed to prepare us to make one of those?” Owl asked, with an upward scratching motion along his nose. He really needed glasses to pull that habitual gesture off.
“In a way. Oh, not for a stele that you will give away to another hold, but for yourself it could be invaluable.”
“Invaluable?” Owl asked, confused. And he wasn't the only one. Heh.
“It’s accompanied you through your entire path. You’ve pumped mana and meaning through it for years now. You don’t think that’s done something to the base material? It's not just common slate anymore. It's a potent magical material that is personalized to your path.”
“I won’t tell you what to do with it, but I suggest you not jump the gun. You won’t find anything like it again, and creating more will be a hell of a job. It grew with you and is the first object tied to you. You tell me how you’d go about repeating that.”
Owl stared at the far wall for a few more moments, then shook his head, somewhat exasperated. “Knowledge bomb received, but what about my first question? Do we need to make steles like those?”
Timothy nodded, scratching his head a bit sheepishly, he needed to watch out for sidetracks. “Have to is a bit strong. I won’t force the issue. But there will be consequences if you don’t. Eventual consequences, you have some time before it becomes an issue.”
Karen stiffened, outrage bubbling through her aura. Timothy hid a sigh. “Who gets to decide these ‘consequences?’” She even made the bunny ears with her fingers.
“Society.” Timothy answered bluntly, even a bit shortly. She had that effect on him. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Just like that reputation, I mentioned earlier, much of the Union works on reciprocity. Scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. This is one of those scratches. Spreading your paths is a large part of the commitment that is the Union. If you choose not to participate, then those of us who have, will not include you in our agreements.”
Karen stared at him, then nodded her head sharply. “So it’s not punishment, we just don’t get to participate in the benefits.”
Timothy froze, that was… not wrong. “..Yes.” But, he considered it again and shook his head. “Mostly. You’ll also engender a good deal of ill will. That may not be a direct punishment, but it could be pretty painful in the long run.”
Timothy thought about it and tried again “The room down there isn’t the work of any one person. It’s not even the work of any dozen. Every Origin made a circuit of the Union. Protected by hospitality, yes, but still at risk. All to make sure that every guardian in the Union had access to as many paths as possible. Oh, it’s not all altruism. You could say it’s putting lots of fishing hooks out if you want to see it through a darker lens.”
“But we are all stronger for it. Do you want to be a part of that strength? Or a mooch. An outcast who refuses to contribute?”
“Ah, but let's continue this discussion later. This is the good part!”
Jonah stood in a knot of other applicants. Sixteen of them all told. He’d made the first circuit of DnD stations and had been waved over right as he was planning to explore the rest of the room.
The tall blond, bearded fellow standing in front of the planter box waved them in closer before beginning to speak. “Affinities and a few demonstrations are important, but now it's time for a bit of a show!”
“The strength of the DnD faction is in our spells. Both in variety and in the way we cast them. But that's all words until you see it in action!”
“I can’t demo the large-scale spells in a crowded chamber like this, but I can at least demo a few zero-level spells, what we call cantrips. They're free too, so each of you can learn them, even if you don’t pick our faction. And despite what you think, that does not make them useless. They can be quite effective if used wisely. Let's start with Mud Wall-”
He turned to a planter filled with earth and gestured, his spectral tree shimmering into view, surrounding his body in a ghostly light, and a lush peach-shaped fruit dropped free, evaporating into a wave of mud mana as it fell. He would have called it earth without hearing the name. The wave surged over the box causing the earth to bubble and surge, dipping down on one side while extending rapidly upwards on the other. Leaving a small 3-foot long, four feet high and a foot-thick wall with a wide but shallow ditch in front.
“That's the fast way, but not the only. If you understand the spell, which I highly recommend for all cantrips as they're often the building blocks for more complicated spells, then you can also do it manually.”
His hands rose upwards, deftly moving through a series of gestures as he began a slow, deliberate chant. The chant wasn't terribly loud, but Jonah caught bits and pieces about the resilience of earth rising to the fore. The gestures though, made a great deal more sense, he was describing the shape and limits of the spell. And a dozen seconds later he was proven right as a curved section of earth rose in chunks only a foot high with depressions all around it. Raised letters rather than a wall and they spelled out 'IMAGINATION IS THE KEY.”
With a final wave, the planter was smoothed flat again and he brought the chant to a close.
“It's a very simple spell, not flashy or all that fast, but it's scalable with mana and intent. That makes it very useful if you need to do a bit of building or throw up a defensive rampart. Throw in a second-level spell, Earth to Stone, and it's how the great walls that protect my home Hold were made.”
Jonah nodded rapidly. It didn't look like much at first. But he'd had to dig enough ditches during the Brotherhood’s awakening classes to appreciate anything that would make the process easier.
“In the same vein, a simple early attack spell is Earth Spike-” A single muttered word and the pot produced a two-foot tall and several inches wide spike of earth, it was hard and shiny with a point that practically cut the air. It hung in place for a few seconds, then the gloss faded and it collapsed under its own weight.
“It's not all that fast, or durable, but if you time its use right, it can do a number on something charging you. It's also much faster to cast manually than Mud Wall.” He pulled a small wooden board from a pile beside the box and held it out level with the ground, then spat out a three-word chant and pointed as another spike lept up piercing through the board.
“Moving away from earth. This is Fire Dart-” Another muttered incantation. Five or six words this time. He flung the board away from him as he finished and flung a small vibrant ball of flames, exuberant reds and yellows twined around one another, leaving a noticeable charred black section in the shape of a face, with flickering flames still twinkling on the eyes and mouth.
“Mucus Muffler-” Water and a little something else condensed around his hand, transparent mostly, but obviously viscous as it stretched and bulged instead of dripping. He tossed the sticky mess onto the smoldering board. It engulfed it, putting out the flames easily and remaining there for a time, covering the black mouth and nose for about ten seconds before losing cohesion and dripping away.
“Wind Scry-” He gestured again, this time with a single finger raised upright then flipped through a quick circle. A pulse of wind shot outward, ruffling Jonah's hair on the way by as he could feel the entire room as an extension of his skin. Even count the people in it. Then the feeling faded away. “Very useful and the results can be shared with your entire team if you have the skill, and don’t mind expending a bit more mana.”
He continued through a dizzying number of minor, but seemingly useful or deadly spells before drawing the demonstration to a close. “Remember, fit is first, but you also have to be able to do something with your mana. Make sure any path you pick has at least the basics. A way to make a shelter, a way to purify water, a way to detect enemies and last but certainly not least, a way to fight.”
The room had calmed down with the ending of the spell demonstrations. Now sets of young men and women were sitting beside the various stones, fumbling their way through those first construct creations. Forming a wide variety of simple effects from roots and leaves to bricks and lapping waves.
"Teacher?" La Mirada, a gentle-eyed young lady of 17 spoke softly, hesitantly with a hand half raised in the air.
"Go for it." He nodded in her direction, though he kept his eyes on the pond.
"Should we have all of those things he mentioned? I mean I have most of it covered, but I'm not that good at fortification spells." She petered off as he gave her a look.
“And I keep poking at you to work on that don't I?”
She looked down sheepishly. “I'm just not very good with earth.”
Timothy sighed. “And that's your problem. You think it has to be earth. He was slightly off there. You don't need to be able to ‘make’ a shelter, you need to be able to provide it. That is not at all the same thing. Living in a house made of sticks and leaves isn’t a bad thing if you have spells to banish water and bugs.”
Timothy waved her down, he could feel her question pushing against him and planned to answer it anyway. “You do need a way to secure your Hold. To protect it from things that go bump in the night. Large walls and earth spells might be the first thing you think of, but it’s not the only, or even the best way. Illusions and confusion wards. Dig out a cave manually or with non-earth spells, create a tree house far above the jungle floor. There is no one way, but you should find at least one.”
Timothy waved away her open-mouthed look of panic. “You have time, my dear. Time to come up with something that fits your style. If you're creative, any specialty can fill all of these roles. Not equally, never that. But they can be done.”
“And to answer your earlier question, sort of. You heard the man and every intake will as well. It’s a pretty common refrain among guardians. I won’t force you to have them, but if you don’t you better have something special enough to attract new guardians anyway.”
Timothy paused, then shrugged, “With a few exceptions. If you ever want to found your own Hold, you need to have all of them. If you want to be the primary Pathfinder for a Threshold, you also need all of them.”
Silence lingered for a time, as they continued to watch the young guardians taking their first steps, trying and failing as often as not, to replicate simple easy constructs. It was a good way to face the differences between them.
“Teacher?” Count eventually chimed.
“Go ahead.”
“I don't see your stele in there?”
With a few gestures, the view in the pond shifted to the back center of the room where a small market stall stood beside an understated stele. It was half the size of the rest, but… Count winced and looked away. Timothy grinned. This was his home, after all. He’d put quite a bit more into his stele than just the beginning steps.
The carvings that graced its sides were far more esoteric as well. Geometric shapes and runes arranged in elaborate patterns rather than anything understandable or pictorial.
Count, his eyes sill watering slightly turned to Timothy “A shop?”
“Yes. I do a pretty decent business selling enchantments. No reason for my representative to stand around doing nothing when they can advertise those services. He’s not likely to see any recruits after all.”
“What do you mean? Don't you have guardians, Teacher?”
“I have a few. Not many, but a few. I told you once that I died quite often in the tutorial. My path isn’t very friendly for beginners.”
“But-” Pepper jumped to wave her hand, a silly habit she’d never seemed interested in kicking. “You’ve figured it out now, shouldn’t that make it easier?”
“Safer,” Timothy nodded, “But not much easier. I can help them to avoid the nastier pitfalls, but the real problem is my focus. I’m an enchanter, a ritualist. I specialize in embedding will and meaning into objects or rituals. Now, how long was it before you made your first enchanted item, hmm? And I don’t mean a casting aid.”
“Ah,” She thought about it for a moment, “A year and a half? Ya, my first staff! I still have it in fact, even if it hasn’t kept up with me.”
Timothy nodded, glancing around the room. The length varied a bit, but none were under a year.
“Now, how would you like to do just will building exercised for that year? Maybe that year and a half? Do all that, and then you get to attempt to make something useful. How does that sound?”
Horror. Timothy snorted. The disgust and revulsion pulsing against his skin would be disgusting if it wasn’t so humorous.
“So no one picks it!” Karen said with a self-satisfied nod.
Timothy lost it, laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair. “Ahh, that was a good one. No, Karen. I actually get quite a few guardians coming through. They just don’t start with me. Most treat my path as a profession, rather than a primary job. Something to come back to when you want to learn enchanting or large-scale spell casting.”
“Weapons of my design are probably the most common backup in the Union. Notice I said design, most of my low-level recipes are available for purchase. The base force staff, the one made from Hog bone is even free as an aide to learn enchanting. As are several quality-of-life enchantments. Of course, if I don’t make it, then it won’t refill its own mana, but it's still a good way to understand the spell effects and how they work.”
“What about progression, Teacher? You might not have an aural construct, but didn't you say you built up your soul?” Count chimed in.
“Yes. I improve my soul by building improvements into it. I included the starting step for that as well. Let me help you read it.-“
Timothy hid a smirk as the image zoomed down and in. With a small expense of effort, he tapped a sub-group of runes arranged in the shape of a tower, but only in the constellation style of detail. A bit of effort bridged the intent through the pool and let it roll outward to the curious.
As the soul is the center of self, no external help or aid may be used to improve it without compromising its individuality. And yet, how can you improve if you introduce nothing new? This contradiction is at the heart of true growth. Consider it as you pass through two trials. First as iron sharpens iron, so too can the soul be sharpened by your soul. Through self-discipline and denial grind away the impurities. Employ-
Timothy skipped ahead, the descriptions and methods involved were significant and would take too long.
-when the soul is ground and polished pure, you may begin the second. No longer remove that which does not belong, but add that which is an improvement. Build libraries to store information. Spell chambers to prepare and store spells. Focus on the third -
Timothy skipped the precise details again.
-may not use common wood and stone, for they are external, but only with that which you create yourself-
Timothy released the bridge and glanced slyly sideways. “What do you think? An easy first step?”
“F-“ Karen choked off her reaction in time, if not the intent behind it. Fuck that indeed.
Count stared at him, eyebrows raised. “You have to make matter from mana before you can even start? Grind your own soul?”
Timothy grinned even wider, nodding. Only La Mirada had managed to turn mana into mass. And only with the water mana she was best with. Timothy figured maybe a quarter of the rest could eventually pull it off. Though how many would bother to keep at it he couldn’t say. The willpower and focus requirements were hard, but the level of required understanding wasn’t any less difficult.
“You get my point, I trust. It wasn’t on purpose, but I built my path for me. It’s not very user-friendly for others. And if it was the only path available, this Hold would have been in trouble. But that brings us back to you lot and that Goldilocks problem. Lots of different paths make us all better off.”
He let that settle for a time, shifting the focus of the pool sideways to another clump of steles.
“So.” Timothy finally interrupted. Waving the pool back to clear water. “With all you’ve seen, are you ready to head out there and found a Hold?” A few heads turned at the apparent non sequitur, but they gamely answered. A few head shakes no, a few belted out “hell ya!” others merely mumbled. Timothy snickered.
“While I appreciate the self-confidence, the answer is a resounding NO. Not because you don’t have skills, I won’t comment on that right now. But because you don’t have all the skills required. Hell, even I don’t. There are far too many things that go into a successful hold for you to possibly have all of them. I’m not sure there is enough time in a normal lifespan to learn them all either.”
“And that’s why we have that most esoteric of magics,-“ Timothy drew out a few moments of silence, drawing all eyes to himself. “Delegation!”
Pepper laughed. Maybe a few others. Tough crowd.
Timothy waved a hand, shifting the pool back to life, and this time aimed at the main square, the entrance to Paradise and the location of many of its governing buildings.
“You’ve spent years getting a masters course in how to learn, and how to cast. I’ve taught you the mechanics behind self-improvement. But I’ve never taught you how to live with other humans. Or worse, to lead them. Have you ever wondered why not?”
Count gave a slow, stately nod, and he was far from the only one.
“Those are the limitations that come with your specialization. We don’t need you to be bureaucrats.” He invested the hated term with all the scorn it deserved. “We don’t need you to be lawyers. We don’t even need you to be diplomats. You are first and foremost, Wizards.”
“But, by virtue of self-awakening, we are given the power and responsibility of a leader. And if we want to keep all those nice benefits, then we need to do a good job at the position we aren’t trained for and don’t have time for.”
“A contradiction, I know, but not an insolvable one if you farm it out. I provide a direction to the Mayor of Runehold. As do the three other Origins of our Hold. When those directions conflict, which they do frequently, we debate them at a high level. Then we delegate our authority to him to fill in the details and do the implementation.”
“Delegation.” The word bubbled to the surface like a dead fish and with all the enthusiasm.
“Indeed. Now for the fun part. You pick the best people you can, you give them directions and set them loose to follow them. Then what? Then you are responsible for whatever they create. Whatever they do. If you put a tin dictator in place as your mayor, then you are responsible for every screw-up, every abuse of power.”
“You don’t have the time to do your own job and theirs too, but you can’t let a subordinate use your name to cause disasters either. So pick them with care, and spy on them.”
Shocked laughter exploded through the room. Timothy grinned. “I’m only half joking. Have you ever heard the question, ‘don’t you trust me?’ if you have then you should know, that if they had to ask, then the answer is no. Trust but verify is the operative phrase. But even oversight requires understanding.”
“I’ve arranged for some classes for all of you over the next few months. Government for dummies, in effect. And provided by the combined Origins of the Union so that I don’t violate my oaths.”
“Before that though, I’d like to ask a simple, but broad question. What does a Hold need to survive?”
“Defense.” Count offered.
“Yes, first and foremost. If you can't keep them alive, then none of the rest matters. Next?”
“Food.” Pepper offered.
“Good. I’ll package food and clean water together. They’re not terribly difficult to manage with how fast and large everything grows. But it still needs to be handled. Next?”
“Entertainment?” Karen muttered.
Timothy nodded. “Yes. Life is more than just not dying. You need to provide people with something to make life worth living. It’s also necessary to prevent mental breakdown and stress pop-offs. Next?” Timothy pointed at Owl.
He froze for a moment, then gamely opened his mouth. “You mentioned Training? Make your stele and teach?”
“Yes. To be a hold, you have to be self-sufficient. That doesn't mean you don't trade for the good stuff, but if every other hold suddenly disappears, you need to be able to restart from just what you have. That means you have to be able to awaken and teach new batches of guardians.”
“It’s also why many Pathfinders keep a second or third set of their high-level steles in other Holds. It’s a personal vulnerability, but a valuable contribution to humanity.”
“Let me summarize what we have so far. Magic and killing isn't everything. Just most of it. Then planning and training for the future, gathering resources and creating comforts. And finally Government. I'm sure you can tack on a few more categories, but these five cover the main bits.”
“But what is government?”
“Taxes?” Karen muttered mouth pursed to spit. For once Timothy had a hard time disagreeing.
“Unequivocally yes. The way you collect them can be very different, but you can’t have a hold without collecting them somehow. Next?”
“Laws.” Count tossed in. “Chain of command.”
“Yes and yes. Though that phrase more often refers to military. I might say Authority and who gets to have a say.”
“Pepper?” She was jumping again.
“Other than magic, the rest are pretty easy, right? Like you said, food is everywhere, comforts can come from good magic, laws are easy when you have truth spells and well, we all know what you think of bureaucrats right?”
Timothy snorted. Then couldn't help himself, he broke into all-out laughter. “Ahhh, that's a good one. I think I said something similar to the Mayor way back.” It wouldn't do to call him Da in front of the students. “Of course, I was wrong. Very, very wrong and he tore strips out of me for it.”
“I'll forgo the strips and explain. Spells certainly make comforts easier, but no one person has all the spells to pull that off. Not even me!” He waited out the courtesy chuckles and continued. “You're going to have to trade for it, and that means having something to trade. Food may be everywhere, but eating the same kind over and over again gets really old. Not to mention unhealthy. Resources also apply to healing potions and Tiered beast meat to keep your guards healthy and powerful.”
“Now onto laws. NO. Just no. Truth spells, and they are my second largest export so trust me on this, are not truth. They tell you how much the speaker believes in what they are saying. Now if they're trying to con you, then you get a nice big spike of red and off with their head. But what about the minor shit? The ‘white’ lies. The self-deception and misremembered, misheard or what someone else you trusted told you. A generally dishonest person might never pull a solid green, even when they try to be truthful. While the gullible will pull a solid green while swearing up and down that the fish that got away was 10 feet long. You can believe something without it being true.”
Timothy stared at her for a few moments, thinking, then his eyes lit up. “Stay there for a moment. I need to give your classmates some instructions!” With entirely too much glee he snapped his fingers and a wall of mist surrounded the girl, blocking sight and sound. “Umm... Wilson! Yes you. Please stand up and raise your hand like you're going to slap someone. Yes, that's the posture but work on your face. A bit of anger, a bit of threat. No, uncross your eyes and wipe that drool away. Angry, not insane. Better, better, There! Just like that!”
Timothy darted down to dig through a sack of spell components then came up with a large flat piece of quartz, he looked at the boy through it, then chanted softly, deftly fixing the image. Then moved the crystal, and the image over so he was looking at the wall of mist.
With a bit of work, and changing his position for a better angle twice, he managed to get the image lined up correctly. He pulsed his will into the quartz and released the image, then set the quartz down. The image stood there, life-like at a glance, but motionless.
He raised a finger before his lips while glancing about the class, then dropped the mist wall for a brief moment, triggering one of his force rings to leave a small red palm print on Peppers's face. Then the walls went back up, blocking off her offended squawk before it really had time to spread. With a wave of his hand, the image disappeared. He gave it another 10 seconds, then dropped the wall again.
Revealing a steaming teenager. He didn't give her time to complain, snapping a truth field up around her. “Tell the court who hit you, Madam Pepper.” He spoke as pompously as possible.
“What do you mean who hit me? Wilson did!” The field stayed a solid green, as did Wilson's face as Pepper pushed a few bracelets back and stalked over with an angry gleam in her eye. “And he's going to regret it-”
“Bzzzt! Wrong.” Timothy interrupted, “Count, please explain.”
Almost apologetically he spoke “It was an illusion. Teacher had him pose for it, then walk away.” Anger rapidly turned to petulance as she shot Timothy an aggrieved look. He grunted and looked away with an awkward whistle.
“You can take a low Tier 2 ingredient from my stash to make up for it Pepper. But I trust the rest of you take my point.”
“This is just one of the more obvious flaws. You can say honestly that he did it, but that doesn't make you right. For that matter-” He re-triggered the truth field, trying to ignore Peppers's flinch, it hurt a bit honestly, though he definitely had it coming. “I’m going to ask you who hit you, I want you to respond, under Truth, that you recognized Wilson’s face.”
With a slightly confused look, she considered the words for a few moments, before looking up in surprised recognition. “I saw Wilson.” She muttered in surprise. Watching as the field remained green, even if it was considerably less bright than when she'd first accused the other boy.
“It's true, but it's not as bright. That means I'm hiding something right?”
“No, just that you don't feel as strongly about it. You can get the same effect from several different factors. Some people are very cautious, everything they say comes out in washed-out tones. Or what if they saw someone, but it was dark? They think it's so-and-so, but aren't nearly as confident as they would be if it had been in broad daylight.”
“Sometimes, people are just unconfident in general. Or worse, have greasy personalities. Think a used car salesman vibe. Nothing they say feels terribly honest. Does that mean they are always lying? Of course not.”
“Word games and trickery are problems, but they aren't a death sentence. You can work around both of them with a bit of care from the questioner. We would ask for Wilson's side of the story before we pull out the torches and pitchforks, right Pepper?”
That scowl wasn’t going anywhere.
“Truth readers get pretty good at spotting weasel words. They have to. That doesn't mean they catch everything.”
“It also doesn't prevent the scary ability some humans have to believe what they want to. I've heard a guy who punched his wife, in public with lots of witnesses mind you, say that he didn't do anything wrong, and he believed it. Another pair got in a fight over who could order first in the bar. Multiple witnesses watched the first guy draw a knife and stab guy 2. Said he deserved it. Believed it too.”
“We had one jackass drag another into court with a bogus accusation, then once he was on under truth asked if he'd been screwing his wife. Laws aren't just to catch bad people, they also have to protect the innocent. ‘Truth’ is pretty easy to abuse.”
“I don't want to beat this to death. I can't tell you what laws you should or shouldn't pass. Nor what form your government should take. The Union doesn't restrict it either. You just have to allow all magic users to leave. If they don't like what you're doing, they can always vote with their feet.”
“If you want some more suggestions, ask the other teachers, they have their own opinions no doubt, and frankly this isn't my area of expertise. Let's go back to Steles, I have a few tricks you might want to consider when putting one together. How to space the spells to prevent interference and -” The class continued for another hour as they went over what must be included versus what could be.
They were getting closer, Timothy mused as he let the illusion of himself fade away. Now he just had to complete the capstone...