It just wouldn’t work. Flames sputtered, earth crumbled, and ice cracked no matter what he tried. Sure, he could tell you how the PMT worked. It was a simple enough process – follow the magic from the prime stones through the filaments, crafted from materials conducive to certain elements; add in a touch of willpower, and there you go – magic. It was too bad that knowledge wasn’t helping Cliff at all when it came to actually using the damned thing.
He wanted to tear it off his wrist, to smash it into a million pieces, to swear and curse at his Gift for making this nonsense impossible for him, but he couldn’t. Not when there was less than a week until Lieutenant Ulster’s deadline. Gone was the optimism from the beginning of the term. Dread had seeped into his stomach to replace it, dread that this was as far as he could go with his PMT.
“Momentum is a hell of a thing,” he muttered to himself, wondering why, exactly, he’d become so attached to the academy. Sure, he wanted to be a Courier. At this point, he doubted he could go back to the farm and live happily. With exposure to everything he’d seen, the engineering club and his friends, actually fighting monsters and doing the things he’d only been told stories about – cultivating parsnips just seemed dull by comparison. A couple of months and he’d already deluded himself that he was too good for the farm.
He let out a bark of self-loathing laughter as a shrill chime rung out, signaling the end of their free practice time. Deb offered him a concerned look as they packed their PMTs away, and Percy gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. He tried to force a smile in reply, but even he knew it wasn’t convincing. Lieutenant Ulster told the class some words of encouragement, explaining that they’d be working on extinguishing fires next class, but cliff hardly heard him as he racked his brain for something, anything, he could do to figure his problem out.
Most of the students were gone by the time he realized they’d been dismissed. “Cliff,” Thalos called lightly, “you coming?”
“No, I’ll-” Cliff said, shaking himself from his thoughts, “I need to talk to Lieutenant Ulster. I’ll mosey over to lunch after.” He smiled halfheartedly at his roommate.
“Oh, okay. Listen, Cliff-” Thalos started, a conflicted look on his face. He cut himself off, his eyebrows pinching together.
“Yeah?”
“No, it’s – it’s nothing. Good luck with your talk. I’ll save you a spot.” He spared another look, waving awkwardly as he moved to join Deb and Percy by the classroom door.
“Yeah, thanks,” Cliff called after him with a light smile. Thalos had probably wanted to encourage him somehow, but the boy was a bit too awkward for all that. Still, though, Cliff appreciated the effort.
When the rest of the students were gone from the room, Cliff scraped himself out from his chair, shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way over to Lieutenant Ulster’s desk. He was not looking forward to what he had to do.
“Cliff,” the Lieutenant said without looking up, “how can I help you?”
“I need more time to figure this stuff out before I decide to transfer,” Cliff mumbled.
“Denied,” his professor replied.
“But I – I figured out the first set of nodes eventually, didn’t I? And, I mean, I might get these ones down at some point too, but I need-”
“Listen, Cliff,” the lieutenant replied, cutting him off with a look, “the offer I made – here, take a seat – that offer isn’t a common thing. I can’t just go extending it because you pout for more time.”
Cliff sunk heavily into the chair, glaring at his professor. “Is it because you don’t like me, then? Would you offer an extension if I was a more boring student?”
Lieutenant Ulster’s eyes narrowed. “I understand you’re frustrated, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t insinuate I picked favorites.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t give you an extension on the deadline because it’s not my deadline. I asked an old colleague of mine who works at the Crestfall Academy of Engineering about transfers, and he said I had a month to send him names – any longer than that and he’d have a hard time convincing his administration you would be prepared.” Cliff scoffed. If the engineering curriculum at this school was anything to go by, he would have no trouble. “I know you’ve got the right stuff to be an engineer, Cliff, but not everybody is going to trust some untested kid not to drag down their school’s name. You’ve got five days, that’s all I can give you.”
“But I – I’ve been working hard, but-” Cliff sputtered, “It’s just not – I mean, no matter how many times I try, these more versatile ones, it’s impossible for me to turn off my Gift while I use them.”
The Lieutenant leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand along his shaved scalp. “I know you’ve been working hard, Cliff – I can see it. At the beginning of the term, I never would have guessed that you’d get this frustrated working your ass off, but here we are.” He paused. “Still, that’s the situation you’re in. Not everybody is built for everything, and not every wall can be scaled. If this one’s insurmountable, then transfer.”
“But I don’t want to transfer,” Cliff said softly.
“Then don’t,” Lieutenant Ulster replied. Cliff glared at him, and the big man shrugged. “I told you, if you can’t get get past this obstacle, transfer. If you can, though, then feel free to fight your damnedest to do so. But make your decision, and stick with it.”
“What if I can’t figure out how to make it work?”
“Then you fail out, and you find some other path in life. Not everyone successful came from an academy, Engineering or Magical.” He smirked. “I mean, I didn’t.”
Cliff blinked in surprise. “You didn’t?”
The big man let out a bark of laughter. “Goddess, no. My dad was a baker and my mom a patissier beside him. I would have followed in their footsteps if not for my four older siblings. When I got sick of playing fifth fiddle, I enlisted. Clawed my way up to Lieutenant and decided teaching was my calling.” He smiled nostalgically, turning an amused eye on Cliff. “Why do you think I teach the PMT fundamentals class? I know most of the scholarship kids come through here, and nothing beats the feeling of seeing some tradesman’s kid succeed.”
Cliff gaped, momentarily distracted from his own predicament. He’d gotten so used to seeing the lieutenant as an adversary that hearing they had similarly working-class backgrounds boggled his mind. “Here I thought you just liked barking orders at ignorant farmers’ sons,” Cliff said with a chuckle.
“A perk of the job,” Lieutenant Ulster replied. He waved his hand in front of him. “But my own background aside, the point remains. Make a decision and live with the consequences. That’s what it means to be an adult. As your instructor, I’ll help you as far along as I can, but I won’t coddle you. Five days, Cliff – I need a decision by then.”
The smile faded from Cliff’s lips, his sour mood returning. “Right,” he replied with a sigh, “well, thanks for the talk, at least – gives a bit more perspective. Happy to know I have an ally here, even if he’s just the son of a baker.”
Lieutenant Ulster grimaced. “Why do I feel like I’m going to be hearing bread jokes from you every time we talk?”
“Don’t worry,” Cliff replied with a sardonic chuckle, “worst comes to worst, you’ll only have to deal with it for another five days.”
***
Four PMTs were spread out on the table in front of them. Two, Cliff’s own and Thalos’s, were mirror images of each other. They were the standard issue, academy provided model, which, as Cliff understood it, was a generation behind the latest tech. Loria’s was far nicer, with an almost soft mesh glove instead of the rougher chain mail that made up the boys’. It was marked with use, but between the scratches and dents it shined with careful maintenance. Nym’s was somewhere between the two, though with a slightly different shape that suggested a different manufacturer.
“The primary goal of splitting you into teams like this, you understand, is to simulate a real-world Courier squad.” Roose explained. “I asked you to bring your PMTs today because, from now, we’ll be taking the next step in that direction. Unlike the last Hands-on, I’ll be giving you the details of your next excursion well in advance. With it, each member of your team will have some prep-work before the training begins. For commanders, that will deal, primarily with detailing a schedule and division of responsibilities. For Quartermasters, I’ll expect an itemized list of supplies. For Scouts, you’ll have to get approval for your route through the wilderness. And for Technicians, I’ll need a full breakdown of the tuning of each team member’s PMT.” Cliff felt a smile coming to his face. As much grief as using a PMT was causing him, he was downright fascinated by them. Him and Thalos were limited to using the most basic of nodes, but Nym and Loria were in the Advanced PMT class – he was bubbling with excitement at the possibilities.
“Of course, most of you-” His eyes flicked to Cliff. “Do not have the know-how or experience to be trusted with actually tuning a PMT, so for now, we’ll just want a breakdown of your setup as it is approved by your instructors. Still, I thought today would be a good opportunity for our technicians to familiarize themselves with their teammates’ PMTs.” He paused to smile around the room, and it was all Cliff could do to stop himself from rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Any questions?”
***
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Mine, like Cliff’s, is a Crestfall-manufactured mark 4 PMT,” Thalos explained, gesturing idly at the gauntlet in front of him. He popped open the case, pointing at the clearly-labeled nodes. “Right now, I’ve got the – uh – general-use fire node, general-use water node, and full martial node inserted. But for the Hands-on, I’ll have the healing node set, and that, along with the required defensive martial node, won’t leave much space for anything else.” Cliff nodded to himself, marking Thalos’s setup down on a form that Roose had provided. Generally, there were two options for the martial node. Every student was required to at least have the defensive variety set in their PMT, for safety reasons. For close-combat fighters, there was also the option of having what was called a full martial node, which, in addition to making you sturdier, also made you faster and stronger.
“There will be space for maybe one more small node, after the healing and martial nodes. Is there anything in particular you’d like to insert?” Cliff asked. There weren’t many options for Thalos, but he was at least approved for the general use nodes that were giving Cliff hell.
“Well, I guess whatever elements we’re missing, I’d be open to using. Just like with weapons, I haven’t really decided on any strong preferences yet.” Thalos shrugged. “You can make the decision, Cliff, or Loria. I don’t really mind either way.”
Cliff nodded, turning to the next PMT. “Nym?”
“Mine’s an Umber-manufactured fifth generation PMT,” she explained, “it’s somewhere between a Crestfall mark 4 and 5.”
Cliff gave the girl a surprised look. “Are you from Umber?” The Kingdom of Umber was the Marifond Federation’s northern neighbor. As their academy was owned and run by Marifond’s government, he’d expected all the students to actually be from the country.
Nym shook her head. “No, I’m from Crestfall, but – well, it’s a little complicated. My mom lives in Crestfall, but my dad, he’s a Courier, so he’s all over. He’s from Umber and likes their PMTs, so he got me one.” Cliff nodded in understanding. There were rumors that Nym’s poppa was some kind of Courier bigwig, but he’d never bothered to ask her about it himself.
“Anyway, I’ve got a combat-class water and ice node, a basic fire node, and a full martial node.” Cliff leaned forward to study the PMT, his eyes gleaming. The martial and fire nodes, he’d seen before, but the water and ice node was new to him. He traced his finger through the air, muttering nonsense under his breath as his Gift fed him the specifics of its functionalities. It was actually quite similar to a general-use water node, with a few additions that would make fighting easier – namely a larger part dedicated to velocity and size, plus the essential bit that allowed the user to turn the water to ice.
“Cliff,” Thalos said, pulling him from his stupor.
Cliff shook his head, refocusing. “Right,” he said, looking up at Nym, “Is this your preferred setup? Anything you’d like to or be willing to change?”
The girl frowned in thought for a moment. “Um – well, ice is really convenient for my Gift, so I’m a bit attached to that function. I hardly use the fire, so I’d be willing to swap that one out. If I had to, I could swap down from the full martial node to a defensive martial node, but I’m fighting on the front lines, right? So that’s probably not a good idea.”
His pen scribbled against the paper as he marked down her preferences. “Right, sounds good. I’ll think over a few alternatives to the fire node and send them your way, but for now we’ll stick to this setup I guess.”
He looked up at Loria expectantly, and she frowned. “I have a Crestfall Mark 5, but, well – I don’t know if I’m comfortable letting you examine it, let alone change it.”
Cliff’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, it’s my job, isn’t it? It’s not like I’m going to be tinkering with it haphazardly.”
“I know but-” She paused, conflicted. “My father did the tuning of my PMT, and I’m not really open to adjusting the setup he gave me.” There were even more rumors about Loria’s father than Nym’s – some kind of military hotshot that had all the professors gushing over her. It was no wonder she didn’t like his farmer sensibilities.
“Okay,” Cliff said, trying not to let his frustration bleed into his voice. Unlike fighting, he could actually be useful on the engineering side, but apparently Loria didn’t trust him enough for that. “Can you at least show me the inside so I can properly record it?”
Loria nodded, popping open the case. “There are only two nodes set into my PMT, a specialized fire node designed by my father’s engineers and a military-grade martial node.” Cliff’s eyebrows rose. He knew that big players often had specially engineered nodes for their PMTs, but to hear that Loria, an academy student, had a unique node was shocking, to say the least.
“What’s the difference between a military-grade martial node and a full martial node?” Nym asked as Cliff looked over the insides of Loria’s PMT. He realized that he actually recognized the more robust martial node set into the gauntlet – he’d seen the exact same one on the way to the academy. Barry, the caravan’s guard, had it set inside his PMT.
“Stronger defensive capabilities, mostly,” Loria explained, “plus a couple of sensory tweaks, hearing and sight amplification. Those took me months of getting used to it, and most of the time they’re a bother more than anything.” Cliff nodded along with her explanation as he studied the node. On the front lines of a battlefield, when you’d be taking enemy fire, those stronger defensive capabilities would no doubt be invaluable. For their purposes, it seemed almost redundant. And that was to say nothing of the fire node she was using.
“This thing-” Cliff started as he studied the behemoth of a node – it took up nearly three quarters of the available space in the gauntlet.
“Yes?” Loria said testily.
“It’s – well, overkill,” Cliff said.
“It’s my father’s own design.” Her tone was stiff.
Cliff glanced up at her. “Well, yeah, for him it’s probably great, but I’ve seen you fight. You use – what? Five fireballs at a time? This node could feasibly produce, I don’t know, twenty-five? And that’s to say nothing of the borderline comical inferno you could make at full output.” He clicked his tongue. “Plus, with all the amplification crammed in here, the effective range is completely impractical – I mean, I think you could feasibly throw a fireball nearly a mile before you lost control.” He shook his head. “To be blunt, I think it’s a waste of space.”
“I already told you,” she said, tense, “I’m not open to changing it – especially not from your suggestions.”
Cliff raised his hands defensively. “Listen, I’m just saying – with just this node, you’re already an extremely competent fighter, but if you rely on just the fire node, aren’t your options a bit limited? Remember the Flash Frost Toad? We didn’t have any good answer, so we had to rely on Nym’s gift.” He looked over at the other girl with an apologetic smile. “Not to rake you over the coals or anything, Nym, but because of that, things could have gotten dangerous, fast.” He looked back at Loria. “Now, say you had your PMT tuned to a more versatile setup – things could’ve run a lot smoother, don’t you think?”
“I’m not changing my tuning, Cliff,” Loria said.
“Can’t we at least talk about it? I just want to help. I’m your technician, and-”
“I’m not changing it,” she snapped, shutting the cover of her PMT. “Listen, I can see you’re quite the talented engineer, but I don’t need you to try and change things that I’ve got handled. I’m not making full use of it so far, but I will, eventually. End of discussion.”
Cliff clenched his teeth. Why did she have to be so darned stubborn? It wasn’t like he was trying to coddle her, he just wanted to help. But as soon as he offered any kind of suggestion, her walls went up.
“Fine,” Cliff said, “you’re the commander after all. I just hope that someday you’ll trust me enough to not snap at the very first suggestion I make.” She glared at him for a moment before looking away, and he sighed. He didn’t want to argue with Loria, really, but she made it so difficult not to sometimes.
***
Roose approached him at his table while they were packing away their PMTs. Aside from Loria’s stubbornness, the class had actually been quite productive, and Cliff’s mind was full of ideas of how to tune everything – it was irritating he had the fewest options, but, well, that was his own fault and he wasn’t about to blame anyone but himself.
“Cliff, can I talk to you a moment?” Roose asked.
“Sure,” Cliff replied, snapping closed his PMT case. Thalos gave him a questioning look, but Cliff shooed him off with a wave of his hand. Roose smiled at the others, waiting quietly until they were alone in the room.
“Have you decided if you will transfer?” his supervisor asked.
Cliff’s stomach sunk. He’d been so distracted by his nowfound responsibilities that he’d nearly forgotten about his looming deadline. He shook his head. “No.”
“No, you haven’t decided, or no you’re not going to transfer?”
“Both, I guess,” Cliff answered with a bitter laugh. He looked down at the table, tapping his fingers anxiously. “I mean – I really don’t want to transfer, but I’ve basically hit a wall in our PMT class.” He looked back up. “I’m sure Lieutenant Ulster told you.”
“He may have mentioned it.” As usual, Roose was wearing a welcoming little half-smile.
“But, well,” Cliff continued, “even so, I think I’m going to stay – I’ll try to stick it out and figure something out.” He smacked the case of his PMT lightly. “I can’t very well leave my team without an engineer.” Though, come to think of it, Loria would probably be more than happy if he went his merry way.
Roose looked at him for a moment, then sighed. “Well, that’s a shame.”
Cliff’s eyes narrowed. “What is? That I’m staying?”
“Oh, no!” Roose said, shocked, “no, Cliff, I’m overjoyed you’re staying. I’m just saying it’s almost a shame you came to the decision by yourself. Diminishes me coming in here like a hero.” His smile became a smirk, and he dropped a book he’d been holding onto the table, flipping the cover towards Cliff.
It was an old book, its pages yellowing and cover faded. “Specialty Nodes for Personal Magetools and their uses,” Cliff read the title. He looked up at Roose with a confused look.
“Go ahead, take a look,” his teacher said with a gesture. Cliff flipped open the cover and started turning the pages. His eyes widened when he saw they were packed full of intricate schematics.
“Are these – PMT nodes?” he asked with a frown as he traced his finger along one of the schematics. He didn’t recognize it’s function at a glance, but reading the description, it was for boring a long, circular hole through rock. He flipped the page – the next was for firing a single, high intensity directional light.
“When we last talked, your problem tickled at the back of my mind,” Roose explained as Cliff flipped through the book, marveling at the esoteric nodes that filled its pages. “A little thought, and I remembered that people haven’t always focused on the use of versatile nodes in their PMTs. Years ago, it was much more popular to have hyper-specific nodes designed to do one single function very well.” Cliff nodded as he got a feel for the schematics in front of him. Some of the notation was quite old fashioned, but he’d seen old tractor manuals with similarly archaic designs. “I asked around, and managed to find a catalog of some of these older nodes – you should thank Professor Jericho, by the way, that’s his book you’re being lent.”
Cliff frowned as he tried to process everything Roose was saying. Professor Jericho was his pre-Magetool history professor, but- “I’m being lent?” Cliff asked, confused, “You mean, I can take this book?”
“Yeah,” Roose said with a grin, “And I expect you to use it build your own nodes. I talked it over with Lieutenant Ulster, and he agreed to excuse you from the free-practice part of your PMT classes to work on designing and building your own nodes for your PMT. He’ll still be responsible for the written part of your PMT exams, but I’ll be taking over the practical part.” He paused before adding. “I’m putting my neck on the line here for you, you understand. If you hurt yourself or do something else stupid, I’ll never catch the end of it. So make sure you do a good job with your engineering.” He shrugged. “But, I mean – I only suggested it because I trust you can do it. It’s you, after all.”
Cliff’s stomach seemed to empty as the implications of Roose’s words dawned on him. He would get to design and build his own nodes? And, more than that – if Roose’s words could be believed, he wouldn’t have to worry about failing his classes solely on account of his Gift. “So that means, I don’t have to-”
“Well, It’s only fair, right?” Roose asked, “I mean, the only reason you’re having such a problem is your Gift, hmm? Shouldn’t your Gift be the thing that gives you the solution? With this, I figure there’s no need for you to transfer at all.” He paused, tilting his head. “Though, if you really wanted to-”
“I don’t,” Cliff interrupted, clutching the book with shaky hands. “Thank you kindly for this – really. I don’t know what I can do to square things with you after this, but-”
Roose waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it at all. I’m a teacher and you’re a student – simple as that.” He snapped his fingers, remembering something. “You should thank Lieutenant Ulster, though – he’s the one who thought to ask Professor Jericho – I hardly talk to that old hermit, so it’s as much thanks to him as me.”
Cliff laughed, wondering why his grumpy PMT instructor hadn’t told him about this when they were talking before. Maybe he thought the news would be better coming from Roose. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Say – did you know that Lieutenant Ulster is the son of a baker?”
“Hmm?” Roose said, surprised, “Of course. He often bakes bread for the other professors.”
Cliff’s expression went blank as he tried to imagine the big, burly drill-sergeant hunched over in front of an oven wearing an apron, and a moment later he was laughing again. “Thank you for that – that information is almost as good of a gift as this book is.” With a final thanks, he left the room, a dozen ways to poke fun at the baker lieutenant bouncing around in his brain. He would waste no time in trying to get a rise out of the bread-man – only as repayment for helping him out of a bind, of course.