[Peter Wood]
Peter looked at Teach go towards the place where the townsfolk were traveling to. “How fast is that, you think?” He asked Faron.
“I’m not sure.” The elf admitted. “Twice as fast as when we were with him? More?”
“Three times.” Illivere said with confidence. “He is using large amounts of mana to increase his speed.”
Right. Teach had explained that while the magically boosted training week had given the group a huge boost to their physical abilities, the development of their mana heart was not accelerated any more than any other magically intensive training would be.
Yeah, Evoker’s Dance generated mana based on how strong you were, so generating force mana was super fast now, but the mana heart was the key to so many things! Well, Teach would point out that it was really only two things, he called them mana capacity and mana throughput, but that second one was a big deal. It determined how powerful you could make an active spell. It determined how quickly you could build up power in a curse or spellweave. It determined the strength of mana voids you create, which determined whether your negative magic could disrupt something. It determined how quickly you could charge an enchantment or shape an object. Domain magic was special, which was why it was the key to using the biggest spells, but you need setup for that.
Teach didn’t know of a way for a wizard to build up their mana heart faster. If he did, he’d be Heroic-ranked by now. Most methods turned you into a sorcerer, which was why people become sorcerers, because you get the powerful mana heart of an old wizard right away and only get stronger from there. Spirit mages could just contract themselves extra power, Shamans by getting more spirit pacts, druids by sucking up more to their bosses, and clerics by suckering in more worshipers to feed their god mana, taking a cut for themselves.
Teach talked a lot about getting stronger, is the point. Peter got the impression that Teach wanted the group to get stronger so they could keep up with him, which was awesome.
Still, for now they had to just keep the civilians safe. But first… Peter went over to the gnoll corpses. Taking out his knife and axe, he chopped the chest in two spots and then cut into the gnoll’s throat, revealing the crimson orb that was the monster core. It was in the same spot as it was in most tribal monsters, behind and slightly below the collarbone. Touching it, Peter focused on the technique that Teach had been trying to teach them.
As Teach put it, monsters may have been made of impure mana, like most things, but the mana didn’t behave normally. It was less like it was impure, and more that it was mixed. Catching sight of a monster spawning was not easy, but it was also not impossible. They flow outward from their cores, and the monster core condensation spell reverses this process, causing the corpse’s mana to flow back along the same channels that it flowed forth to spawn it. It was negative magic, which meant that Peter wasn’t very good at it. Unlike every other kind of magic, negative magic didn’t shake the primary drawbacks of active magic, as far as Peter knows anyway. So he focused on the image in his mind of the gnoll’s body flowing back into the core he was touching, while generating a mana void around the core to force it to actually happen.
After about thirty seconds of focusing, the corpse began to rot quickly, only him paying careful attention could see how shreds of unmelted gnoll flowed into the core in the middle while the rest turned into sludge. The sludge was something that happened when you imperfectly absorbed the corpse. Even Teach leaves some sludge behind when he uses it, as the cores of weak monsters aren’t worth the care and attention it takes to do it perfectly.
Peter strained his mana senses on the orb, trying to assess how much stronger it was after he condensed it. Maybe… a fifth more potent? Pretty bad, but that was his first time trying it out. He’ll get better. He looked at his team, who had also taken the opportunity to practice. “Hey! Let’s compare cores, the winner gets to do the big one.”
Faron was always up for a competition, and Illivere wasn’t quite as enthusiastic but loved testing herself against others. She won most of the time, because she was awesome, but she also always took Peter seriously in those contests, trying to impress him. It was one of her more attractive traits, right next to the fact that she was absolutely gorgeous. Hanna just went along with anything that the other three group members agreed to, only speaking up when there was a disagreement.
With the four cores next to each other, it was a lot easier to figure out which condensed core was more potent than the others. Specifically, Illivere’s was notably stronger, a fifth beyond his own. Faron did the worst, but not that much worse than Peter, while Hana was somewhere between Peter and Illivere’s cores.
There were enough gnolls for each of them to get three or four more attempts, and the cores were stashed inside a clay jug that Hanna created out of the ground. Illivere scratched an enchantment to reinforce it with an etching tool, Hanna dried it out, and Illivere finished the improvised container by painting a waterproofing enchantment on top of it, empowering both enchantments after she was done. The jug was placed inside one of Faron’s expanded bags. He usually carried the extra ones where the group kept items that didn’t belong to any one of them, because he was huge and could carry the extra weight the best.
Cleanup finished, Peter led his team to the column of refugees, who had started moving again while they were handling the corpses. After a quick jog, they were once again in the front, walking along and keeping an eye out for any monsters ahead.
The old guy walked along slowly, so slowly. It made Peter want to run ahead and scout for dangers. But he didn’t, as Teach told them to stay with the group and protect them. The old guy cleared his throat. “Tell me, children: “Peter’s eye twitched at the address. “-what are your thoughts as to our plight? Professor Toomes, as powerful as he is, seemed quite angry with us.”
“He’s not.” Hanna immediately said, defending Teach. “The Professor was just annoyed at his plans getting disrupted.”
“I suspect that he dislikes politics.” Illivere volunteered. “Even a weak army he could rout on his own… “ Teach was also very explicit that he was terrible against armies and swarms, which he then turned into a lesson about how you never finished learning magic. It was why he spent most evenings with his nose in one of Grandteacher’s books that he brought along. Peter suspected he was just a nerd, though. He was reading about the weather last night, after all. “He could be expelled from the Adventurer’s guild. Unless Jurta is without the guild.”
“They do have it.” The old guy confirmed.
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“It’s troubling.” Faron said. “But the idea of having to just let the soldiers do what they will… I’m not sure if that’s enough to stop me.”
Illivere hummed. “Ex-adventurers can’t take on quests legally. Mr. Toomes would need to retire from Adventuring or move to a country without the guild. With you, the mage-knights are always an option.”
“Ah, when you’re a foreigner to a place, you have to be careful.” Hanna said. “You represent your home when you’re abroad, and if you commit crimes, that could start a war if it’s serious.” What?
“No way.” Peter said. “Anima’s stayed out of war for over a century. Nothing we do is going to start one, we’ll be fine.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, sonny.” The old guy warned. “Word gets around when you get random mages on the run, you know. It doesn’t take that much money to get the Adventurer’s guild to track them down and bring them to trial, and Anima just disavows criminals, letting the locals punish them as they want. Maybe it’s different in places like Jurta, but I wouldn’t know anything about that. Our laws are fair.” He finished with a huff. What kind of crazy laws do they have in Jurta?
Illivere continued. “Interfering with a country’s military is different. An army should expect to fight whoever’s around when they invade, but attacking them?” Illivere let that sink in, shaking her head. Another thing that Peter liked about Illivere was how she could convey twice as much as Peter could with half the words.
Still, he couldn’t wait for Teach to come back. Yeah, defending the refugees was proper hero stuff, but after moving at the pace Teach sets, walking just dragged on and on…
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[Illivere Oathsworn]
Illivere silently walked at the front of the column, focusing on the telepathic network she had set up with some of the hunters. If they spot a monster, she’ll know immediately and direct everyone to act.
It was a bit curious, how Mr. Toomes took it upon himself to scout the mountains. If there really was an army there, any kobolds that were present would be easily rooted out and killed. There was no reason to do so. Even more, taking half of a day just to play messenger? For free? It was an odd decision for an Elite Adventurer to make. Most adventurers were very mercenary, who made their decisions on what to do based entirely on potential profit.
Then again, Mr. Toomes seemed to be rather wealthy. Sure, he occasionally acted frugally, sharing tips by example on how to get extra income off of quests, but he had a distinct habit of spending his money freely that you usually only saw in born nobility. Illivere didn’t order it herself, but she did see the background check Father did on her teacher out of curiosity. His family wasn’t particularly wealthy, being simple tomb keepers. Fourth son, he became an Adventurer at the age of fourteen, after going through the free year of magical education all citizens were entitled to at age 13. Five years later, he bought himself tuition at age nineteen and graduated with honors after three more years. That was eleven years ago, and most of that was in a team; while safer, that was known to be a less profitable route as an adventurer. While it was not… impossible for him to just be very good with money, the amount of money he fronted equipping everyone… He must have had quite the nest egg.
What was Mr. Toomes’ goal? Hanna has some nebulous goal related to helping her homeland, Faron wants to become a famous knight, Peter wants to become rich, on top of that silly crush on her. Even Illivere had her end state planned out, gaining as high a position in the Financial ministry as possible while Father was there to speed things along. Illivere wasn’t sure exactly how long she could adventure, but club activities could last until at least the end of her education, which will have to be enough.
Illivere turned her attention towards the refugees. Their morale had recovered some, after the complete slaughter of the gnoll tribe. About half of them were dwarves, which contributed to the slow pace that was set, but they seemed to be pleased enough discussing things with their neighbors.
“Oh, I worked in the fields to the south.” Said one dwarven man. “It wasn’t work to be proud of, but everyone pitches in come harvest season, you know.” His conversation partners all nodded sagely. “Now, when the fields were busy growing, that’s when I did my real work: carving.” He brought out an ornate wooden flute. “My family’s been making instruments for generations. I miss the old home, but my grandfather taught me enough that I’ve got a few pieces like this.” He brought it to his lips and started playing a tune that Illivere recognized. It was something Mr. Toomes had whistled once, when he cooked a meal in the field with his camp equipment.
Illivere found herself humming along as one of the other dwarves started singing along. Apparently the tune was a ditty about how a full kitchen had an ingredient missing for every meal of a nine course meal, with each verse being a story about how they either procured it or a substitute ingredient. Five courses in, and the flute-playing dwarf threw her a second flute, just as ornate as the last but carved differently.
Illivere didn’t know how to play the flute, but after stowing her spear into the loop of leather on her back, she created a mental link with the flute player and played just as he did, the active magic as easy as walking. After another course, she broke the link and used her new flute-playing skills to join along,
Illivere was fluent in dwarven, but admittedly she wasn’t terribly familiar with how they sang. Each line was quick, structure was there, arcane rules as to when to rhyme and when to repeat were clearly there but it went too fast for Illivere to pick out exactly what they were.
At the end of the song, there were some cheers for an encore, but Illivere’s musical skills were too new to use in any way but playing that exact song, or perhaps playing from sheet music. She used a cleansing spell to clean out the wooden flute from the spittle and returned it to the craftsman. “That was pleasant.”
“It’s always nice to see culture when you least expect it.” The dwarf said, grinning. “I wouldn’t think an adventurer would know how to play a flute, much less that song.”
Illivere smiled softly. “I’m not a typical adventurer.” She said evasively.
“I’ll say.” Said another dwarf, older and more rugged. “You don’t usually see young ones like you carrying mithril.”
“Our teacher is generous in many ways.” Illivere deflected.
“Can’t argue with that, Angus.” Said an old woman right next to the old man. His wife? “That big shot adventurer is delivering news a hundred miles out of the goodness of his heart.”
With some more grumbling, Illivere drifted away from the conversation once more, unslinging her spear and taking note of the condition of the enchantments.
Enchanting was, in many ways, basically drawing magic pictures. It only lasted so long, no matter what you tried. Paint flakes and washes away, etchings erode and chip, and metal gildings rust and wear away. Even the most enduring enchantments, made with gold filigree, could only last the centuries they theoretically could if you put the item in a vault somewhere and left it alone. As such, maintenance was the name of the game. She traced the mana circuit, and eventually confirmed that it was in perfect condition, just like it was that morning. It was worth checking anyway, as she did stab a few gnolls with it.
The mental link she had affixed with curse magic communicated a flash of panic. Where? Illivere focused on the connection, looking ahead and to the opposite side of the column. A great roar rang out from that direction, and the mental link snapped with a surge of pain. Illivere winced at the unpleasant stimulus.
“Trouble.” She sent to her team. “Group up at the first quadrant.”