I find myself out at the training yard a few days later. The training yard encompasses the east side of the rocky platform the manor itself is built upon and is almost as large as the gymnasium inside. A long rectangle of sand makes up the training yard, fifteen feet long on the short end and over a hundred on the long. Macille and Kendon spar in the sand, each one almost a mirror of the other, their sword and hammer flashing and snapping against the tough shields they carry. Jor’Mari spars with Kithkik not too far from the boys, neither uses any of their abilities, though I don’t even know if Kithkik has abilities to speak of. The giant woman wields two swords connected by a chain in her arms: while the upper row of arms holds the swords, her lower set focus on manipulating the chain. Jor’Mari holds no weapons; he attacks with his fists and feet. Anyone can tell at a glance that Kithkik could end the spar anytime she wants to, but for whatever reason, the giant woman refuses to land a decisive blow in the bout.
My attention is only momentarily captured by the back and forth. Coriander Mel’Draven stands at the far end of the field, her fingers pressed together as she focuses her mana. A ball of energy, both white and black at the same time, condenses in the air in front of the elven mage. The energy she gathers is hard to look at, it makes the world seem too flat and fills me with a sense of vertigo. I watch Coriander continue to gather the energy in front of her for more than a few minutes before, with a smooth exhale, she releases the spell. Faster than I can follow, the ball of death in front of her expands into a bar of contrasting black and white that stretches toward the horizon far beyond what my eyes can track. Coriander falls, her breath becoming ragged as she holds herself up in the sand on her hands and knees.
Standing from the iron chair I sit in on the edge of the sand, I walk toward the woman and offer her a clean towel I grab from another one of the chairs. “That was impressive, my lady.”
Coriander turns her eyes on me, almost feral, as she knocks my offered towel away and stands from the ground. “Move,” she hisses at me, barely giving me time to turn aside before barreling through where I was just standing.
I watch her go, her breathing becoming more controlled as she stalks to the manor’s entrance and goes inside, slamming the door behind her. I look at the towel in my hand, wondering if it might somehow tell me what just happened.
“She doesn’t like you,” Jor’Mari says. I jump at the sound of the man’s voice, realizing that he is standing just near me on the sand. Behind him, Kithkik is walking to a water barrel. “She complains about you when you aren’t around.”
“Why would she complain about me?” I ask, tossing the towel away. “I have never really even spoken to her.”
“Maybe you failed to bow low enough to her once,” Jor’Mari quips. He laughs when he sees the puzzlement on my face. “Lady Mel’Draven has to swallow that there exists a human out there so much more powerful than her that she cannot compare,” he says, speaking of Arabella. “Now here you are, a poor, almost illiterate, human girl who has been placed into the same circumstances as herself and are expected to succeed. I am certain that our dear rose, the Lady Mel’Draven, has a hard time understanding how such a girl as yourself is not on her knees scrubbing the floors for most of the day.” Jor’Mari flashes me a sadistic grin with his sharp and incredibly white teeth. “I myself would not mind seeing you on your knees more often as well.”
I try hard to keep the disgust off my face, but I have no clue how successful I am. “How flattering my lord,” I say, trying to step past him. “I need to speak with Kithkik.”
Jor’Mari blows out a laugh and steps aside to allow me by. “Of course.”
I turn back to him after entering the sand pit. “Also, I read quite well.”
“But you do not read elven,” he says. “In the mind of those like Lady Mel’Draven, that is all that matters. Now, go on, I wish to see you walk away.”
My teeth click as I bite back the comment forming on my lips. Nothing good will come of speaking harshly with a nobleman, even if they deserve it. They have a power that I never will, the power to ruin someone’s life no matter how much magic that person possess. Feeling his eyes on my back, I walk over to Kithkik. The giant woman observes me as I walk up to her, shaking her head.
“If you allow a man to speak with you like that, then he will learn that it is fine for him to do so,” Kithkik tells me as I stare up at her.
“That is my matter,” I say.
The big woman shrugs and takes another drink from the ladle she is holding. “What have you come to ask of me?”
“Ms. Willian suggested that I have you teach me how to fight,” I say. “I am here to follow through on her advice.”
“Teach you to fight. You are a magic-user, are you not? I cannot teach you how to fight in such a way.”
“I do use magic as my weapon,” I affirm. “However, the other day when I needed to face monsters head on, I did not know what to do once they charged at me and came close. Can you teach me how to not allow monsters to simply attack me?”
“You wish to learn how to dodge?” Kithkik asks. She grabs two long sticks resting against a bench on the side of the sand pit. “I can teach you that.”
It doesn’t take me long to discover that Kithkik is a brutal teacher. When she strikes me with the sticks it is not a simple tap to correct me, but a brutal swing that leaves behind bruises. Never does she tell me what I should do or what I am doing wrong. For almost an hour, she walks at me, spinning the two sticks in her hands and lashing out with one every so often. I dodge sometimes, but those times are rare.
When Kithkik catches me blocking her blows with my forearms I see anger crease her face and her next swing comes hard enough to bruise bone. I fall onto the sand enough times to scrape my knees. A quicker than normal strike catches me on the side of the head, leaving a gushing wound behind that is more distracting than dangerous. For the duration of the “training” I watch my healing points slowly deplete, each digit that I regain with my recovery is dashed away in an instant. When I have nothing left and my stamina is spent, I fall to my knees on the ground, huffing.
“You are fragile,” Kithkik says as she towers over me. She tosses the sticks that now bear red stains on their ends to the side and returns to her water barrel.
The crunch of metal boots on sand approaches me from the left and I look up to see Macille standing near me. He kneels in the sand at my side, hand already glowing as he prepares to apply healing magic. I knock the man’s hand away before he can touch me. Despite the confusion on his face, he waits until my breathing steadies enough that I can speak.
“I’m…training my…recovery,” I manage between large gulps of air.
“There are better ways to do that,” Macille says. He offers me his handkerchief, and when I look at him without understanding, he dabs the white cloth at the still bleeding cut on the side of my forehead.
Belatedly, I realize that I am not thinking as clearly as I should. Perhaps stamina has something to do with thinking as well. “Are there faster methods?”
“You do not need to worry about speed,” Macille says. Despite his obvious disapproval, the man doesn’t try to heal me. “You are strong as you are, especially for someone who only just completed their set of essentia.”
“I don’t feel strong,” I tell him. With a grunt, I push myself to my feet and waver for a moment before finding my footing. “I have known people who were strong.”
“I’m sure,” Macille says. “Though, comparing yourself to others is the fastest way to become disappointed in your own progress. Compare yourself to yourself, your past and present. Speed is not the objective of an essentia magician, progress is.”
I can’t help but smile at the man. He walks with me to the water barrel, likely to make certain he can catch me if I collapse from exhaustion. I pour water over my head, a lot of it, and feel the sand and blood wash away to leave me clean if wet. The unobscured sun overhead begins to work at drying me off, and I bask in its heat for a while as I stand out in the training yard.
Macille returns to his brother and their sparring after some kind parting words, and Kithkik sits in the grass on the edge of the sand pit to read a book in a tongue I don’t know. I watch the two brothers continue their spar. Even in the full armor they wear, there is a fluidness in their movements that I don’t think any amount of experience will ever let me bridge. There is an expertise in their combat that speaks to the many years of work the two have put into their martial prowess. Though I know Macille is superior to me in almost every way that matters, I also know that he is wrong about speed. I need to improve as quickly as possible. This competition that I am to be thrown into is less than a month and a half away now, and I still don’t know how I am going to compete with monsters like the elves I share a flying house with.
Ten days later, Arabella Willian calls me into her office once again. I have completed the task which she set for me. I have read all of the books, and I have gained another level.
I have to admit that I did find the books incredibly interesting after I managed to get past the initial repulsion of the first great tome being filled with mathematics. Of all of the instructional books on mathematics in the universe, Arabella had chosen one that had been written by an economist, a profession that I had never heard of existing before reading that book. Apparently, economists dealt with the flow of currency, and most governments in the world use gold as a major part of their currencies, which meant that economists dealt with the movement of gold. I like gold. I like gold a whole lot in fact. I found the economist’s flamboyant metaphors about gold to be intriguing, and something I could actually wrap my head around, unlike Mother Mayble’s religious similes back home.
Unfortunately for me, the book on mathematics had been the easiest to understand. The next one had been all about geography, a subject that, I have discovered, confuses me to no end. As it turns out, the Kingdom of Gale is just one kingdom in something called the Contiguous Empire of Ramancalla. Every kingdom in this empire is under the total authority of elven rulers, and they all pay homage to the Emperor Ramancalla III. Before getting into this flying house, I can’t recall ever hearing the name of another kingdom, though I obviously knew that they must exist.
What was even more surprising to find out was that Gale was tiny when compared to some of the other kingdoms, countries, and principalities in the world; if the book was to be believed that is. From what I read in the book, there exist eighty-nine continents in the world, and on those continents, there are more than seven hundred different countries. There are also more that exist deep in the oceans, though the book didn’t go into detail about those.
The most incredulous bit of information the book told me was that elves did not rule all of these different places, which does not make much sense to me. Sure, there might be far flung places that lacked any form of real civilization, I could understand the lack of the true ruling class there, but the book did not make it seem that way. It continues to boggle my mind how any government could function outside of the hands of the longest lived and wisest of the races. It just doesn’t make any sense to me. In truth, it makes me doubt all of the information in the book.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The last two books Arabella gave me are completely indecipherable. They deal with a written form of magic: runes and formations. In addition to naturally forming magical objects like essentia, monsters, beings of living magic, and magicians, magic can come from writing a few squiggles down on paper. Alright, it is a bit more complicated than that, especially given that I can’t really remember anything of what I read about it, but it still seems wrong that magic should work that way. Still, I read the books. Could I tell anyone anything about what I had read? No.
When I enter Arabella’s office, I find that Macille is already there, speaking with her on the sofa across from her usual seat. “Charlene,” Arabella says when she sees me. “Come, sit. Tell me about your progress.”
Macille turns and looks at me as I enter, a small grin creasing the edge of his mouth. I incline my head to Arabella before flopping down onto the sofa next to Macille. “I have earned a level and read all the books, like you asked.”
“Which one was your favorite?” she asks.
“Strangely, the mathematics one,” I answer honestly. I see disappointment in the woman’s eyes but continue. “I think if I end up failing to meet your standards that I might look to become an economist.”
“It is good to have redundant plans,” Arabella says, leaning back. “Let us not plan for failure, however. I believe that you are currently on track to meet my expectations. I noticed that you changed your training regimen. Explain to me why.”
I nod, expecting the question. “I decided to leave weightlifting out of my training,” I say. “I came to the decision because I wished for all of my effort to go toward improving my magic, speed, and recovery.”
It had been a difficult decision to make despite how obvious it had been. I still remember the way Bali hauled us up the side of the mountain using only the incredible strength in her arms. I want that even now. There had been something subtly beautiful about the woman in that moment, and, gods, I want someone to look at me how I must have looked at her then. In the end, I know that it is a poor direction for me to go in if I want to focus on the potency of my magic.
“You have kept up your running,” Arabella said, a statement rather than a question.
“I run even more now,” I say. “Even if I don’t plan to become strong enough to hurl boulders around, I still want to be able to dodge them when someone throws one at me.”
“I would not worry about that,” Arabella tells me. “Luckily for you, you are human. Soul reinforcement raises all of our attributes simultaneously. The same is not true for all of the races of Exeter.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Macille looking between the two of us with confusion. The man doesn’t voice his confusion. I am coming to understand that he doesn’t like looking as if he doesn’t know what is going on. Maybe he only feels that way in front of women.
“I didn’t know that,” I say.
“Clearly. You even followed my advice to seek out Kithkik,” Arabella says.
Macille laughs at that. My daily beating by the giant woman have begun to become a spectacle for whoever cares to come out to the training yard to watch. I don’t believe Macille or Kendon have missed a single one.
“I’m improving. Slowly. But I am improving,” I say, though I don’t know how true it is. Every time the woman slaps me around with the increasingly blood-stained sticks in the yard, I feel like the gap in strength between me and the woman only grows. Whenever I begin to think that I am getting better at dodging her, she starts swinging just a bit faster, destroying my confidence. Kendon and Macille always compliment me afterward, and that might be the only reason that I have stuck with the exercise for so long, despite how futile it feels.
“I believe you,” Arabella says. “Do not expect Kithkik to be liberal with her praise. The fact that she has continued to indulge you this long should be proof enough for you that she finds the activity worth doing.”
“Trust me,” Macille says, looking my way. “When the woman spars with my brother or I, she beats us just as hard. Lucky for me, I have healing magic.”
“Speaking of healing magic,” I say. “How come you never used that when we fought the Desert Spearman?”
Macille sighs. “Because that monster would never have given me enough time to do so.”
“Quite right,” Arabella agrees. She looks between Macille and I. “You two have become stronger than you were when I first tested you with the creature, Charlene especially so. Are you prepared to fight it again?”
Macille shakes his head. “I know that we are the only two that haven't beaten the rank two monster by now,” he says. I look at him, that is news to me. “I don’t know how I can. I just do not have the same offensive potential the others do.”
“That is all I have,” I tell him. I look at Arabella. “Which is why the two of us are paired together I might imagine.”
“In a way,” Arabella says. “I do not mean to sound cruel, but I paired you two together because you both have the greatest weaknesses among the five pupils I have taken. The fact that your weaknesses are complimentary is a happy accident. The other three have each been able to defeat a rank two monster on their lonesome as of now.
“Kendon, like you Macille, is a very well-balanced martial fighter. The difference between you and him is that his destructive capabilities are enough to eventually overcome the disparity of the gap between a rank two monster and a rank one adventurer. Your abilities are a bit too unfocused on a singular aspect to allow you to do the same. On the other hand, Coriander Mel’Draven is an extremely focused mage with incredible destructive output. What separates her from you, Charlene, is that her abilities synergize in a way to increase her destructive output to match even a rank two mage, whereas your abilities tend toward a focus on utility aspects. In a group setting, there is no doubt that you will be the more valuable inclusion, especially with your disenchantment ability, but that is not what I am testing now, and you will likely find yourself outside of such a setting in the near future.”
I nod, trying to understand what exactly she means. I can’t dispute anything. Disenchantment and Dragon’s Eyes both seem like abilities that have no use in a fight, and I haven’t even started to understand how I can use Emperor’s Prerogative. The only one that I can even claim to have used in the last week is Dragon’s Eyes, and that simply for the boost to recovery.
Gold Essentia(Rank 1): Disenchantment
By touching a dead monster, you are able to break down their residual essence into component parts and solidify their magical residue into physical objects.
Gold: this ability also produces an amount of coin commensurate with the power of the monster
Dragon Essentia: Dragon’s Eyes(Rank 1):
You possess the sight of dragons. This ability grants the ability to perceive magical auras and soul presences. The eyes of dragons empower a dragon’s ability to recover its magical and vital energies. Grants a small boost to the Recovery attribute and causes the Recovery attribute to be 50% more effective.
Emperor Conflux: Emperor's Prerogative(Rank 1):
A true emperor is unbound by the limitations of the world, and as such, the emperor is not bound by any mana affix affinities, capable of pursuing any magical paths they might choose. Provides a small boost to the understanding and attunement of different mana affixes.
“You neglected mentioning Jor’Mari,” Macille says.
“For a purpose,” Arabella says. “Do not compare yourself to him. I know that you have been an essentia magician for a few years now, Macille. Comparing yourself against a genius such as him will only leave you feeling inadequate.” Despite her words, I can feel a challenge in Arabella’s tone, one that Macille bites onto immediately.
“Why?” he asks.
Arabella effects a look of indecision, feigning a reluctance to go on, but I detect a smirk. “It is a poor mentor who reveals the abilities of their pupils to others,” she says. “What I will say however is that Jor’Mari shows clear signs of becoming an alpha essentia magician.”
“At rank one,” Macille says under his breath, “that is impossible.”
“What’s an alpha magician?” I ask.
Macille looks at me. He tries to speak, cannot find the words, and tries again. “An alpha essentia magician possesses an ability that makes them nigh immortal,” he says. “Abilities like that are what you would expect a fifth rank to have. They are like monsters that cannot be stopped.”
I think back to my first meeting with Jor’Mari. I still remember what Volaash’s eye had revealed to me about him; he has the Demon Conflux. He also killed that rank two monster by himself when we fought all of those hounds, outside of the safety of Arabella’s illusion. Then, it occurs to me, that Halford has an ability that basically heals all of his wounds and makes him unstoppable for a short period of time. I wonder if he is an alpha magician as well.
Arabella leans forward. “In this upcoming competition, do not challenge him. There will be plenty of opportunities to scoop up. Stay out of his way.”
“I will,” I say, fully meaning it. Ever since first laying eyes on Jor’Mari, I felt that there was something dangerous about him. I have no intention of provoking him in any way.
Macille holds his silence.
“Good,” Arabella says, clapping her hands and looking between the two of us. “Then we should commence with what I called the two of you here for in the first place. I intend to pit you both against the Desert Spearman once more, and this time I expect that you will manage to kill it.”
“Well, you got my confidence low enough,” I say.
“I am serious,” Arabella says, all levity gone from her face. “The desert spearman is by no means an easy or simple rank two monster to defeat. Likely neither of you will be able to do it alone until you are each rank two yourselves. You will need to make up for your lack with teamwork or some other means of overcoming your personal shortcomings. Before I allow either of you to participate in this upcoming competition, I must feel assured that you can defeat such a creature. If not by yourselves, then at least in a group setting. Otherwise, I would be sending you to your deaths, and that is something that I will not do.”
“So, if we cannot kill this monster, you will not allow us to even enter the competition,” Macille says.
“Precisely. This is the first point that you must absolutely overcome to progress. There will be many, many more, but this is the first. Make it over this barrier. You have as many attempts as you would like between now and when we arrive at our destination, but it must be done.”
I let out a long breath and look at Macille. He nods back to me. “Alright then,” I say.
“Very well,” Arabella holds up her hand and purplish light begins to seep out of her fingers. I doubt Macille can see the changing light of Arabella’s aura as she readies the ability, another use of Dragon’s Eyes. If only I could find a way for that to be useful in a fight.
“Give us a moment,” I say before she can activate whatever ability she is preparing. The light on Arabella’s hand pauses but does not vanish. I look back to Macille. “We should at least have some kind of strategy.”
He looks at me. “I agree, do you have anything specific in mind?”
“Nothing fancy,” I say. “First, I think it is pretty obvious that we shouldn’t put ourselves behind the monster.”
“It’s barbed spear,” Macille agrees. “It is more dangerous than its claws.” He rubs his chin for a moment. “My Guardian’s Blade ability can hurt it, but I don’t believe that it is strong enough to deal the creature a lethal blow. Most of my abilities are focused on defense.”
“My dragonfire might be able to do that. It has gotten stronger, and if you can give me time to over channel the ability then it can become much stronger,” I tell him.
“Can you burn a bug?”
“My brother apparently killed a dragon with fire magic,” I say. “Next to that, I think burning an oversized bug should be possible.”
“Can you burn a bug, I mean,” he says. “In our last fights, your fire did not seem to be incredibly effective.”
I chew my lip. He’s right. “It has gotten stronger since then,” I say. “Like I said, if you give me time to over channel the ability, then I might be able to deal some real damage to it.”
“How much time?” he asks.
“Thirty seconds,” I say, and I see a wince on Macille’s face. “If you give me thirty seconds, then I can channel a Dragonfire Bolt that will deal real damage.” I don’t even know if it’s true, but I can clearly see that Macille needs me to be confident.
“Thirty seconds,” he whispers to himself. He takes a deep breath and slams his fist into his thigh, making me jump. When he looks back at me again, he tries to offer me a bit of confidence of his own. “I will give you the time,” he says. He looks back to Arabella. “It isn’t the most complex plan of action, but it is what we have.”
“Who knows,” Arabella says, the light on her hand beginning to shine brighter. “It may just be enough.”