Jon was barely listening as Master Moro droned on about proper Icon forming and the correct calculations for Aether flow. He had learned most of it, and the fact that in a few days he'd have to go to the palace to tutor the Imperator's daughter.

A loud snap thundered throughout the room, and Jon recoiled only to find Master Moro staring at him with a vexed look. However, after looking back to the blackboard covered in mathematical scrawls, Moro sighed.

"I can't blame you for being distracted, and this part of the learning is always a chore. However it does need to be done. Note this down, and we'll move onto something more interesting."

John quickly scribbled down the correct symbols and lines used for various flow rates, and how they correlated to various equations.

Once he was finished, he looked up to find Master Moro beckoning him to follow.

As they rode the elevator down to the bottom floor, Moro began to speak.

"Do you know why most wizards set up in cities Jon? And why the position of Court Wizard is coveted?"

"Cushy hours and a lot of gold?"

Moro snorted.

"Not enough, believe me. No, the reason why Wizards usually set up in cities is because of all the people. You see, over years, wizards and.... some other users of the arcane, settle the Weave in the local area. It stabilizes, and evens out."

He continued.

"However, in the countryside, and in towns and villages where wizards aren't a constant, the Weave can bunch up, or spread thin, leading to spells being harder to cast. Because?"

Jon realized why the lesson earlier was important.

"Because the relative Aether level will require different icon strengths? As well as the right equations for ratios?"

Moro nodded.

"And that's not even the worst of it. Say you were casting a fire spell, in an area of dense Aether. You'd need to have the spell prepared, then on the fly as you cast it, you would have to strengthen some parts where the Aether needs to flow, as well as thinning some so the strength of the local Aether doesn't break those parts as it flows through them. All according to the various ratios you were learning earlier."

"But the thing is, the local Aether might be in flux, it might be so Dense that it's nearly impossible to cast, and ever harsher, it might be tinged by a certain element. Say a magical forest which had been thriving off the local aether for years. The Weave is then effected by all the Earth and Life, which means you have to factor THAT into your spell structure as well."

"To continue the analogy, such a place might be useful, because your life and earth spells would get a boost, so long as they don't break, but you'll need to alter the spell for their opposites, so they don't get weakened. In such a place, air-based spells might simply fall apart if not built solidly."

Jon was struck dumb as they walked through the cobblestone streets, his master's explanation bringing so many possibilities to his mind. Why was the weave thicker in some places than others? What causes the Aether to be affected by local elements? Based on his master's earlier comment, some arcanist don't settle the local Aether?

One final question occured to him, this one making him curious enough that he actually gave into the urge to ask it.

"Master, what is the opposite of Life? Death?"

Moro grimaced.

"No, Jon. Death is an important part of Life, however the Icon for Death is closely held by the Imperial Family. It is only given to those wizards who keep the rest in check, ensuring none stray down darker paths. One of those darker paths, revolves around the antithesis to Life. You've already encountered it. Undeath."

Flashes of memory from three months ago wrestled with Jon's willpower, eventually being subdued. Moro didn't say a word while he was silent. A few moment later, he continued as though nothing had transpired, which Jon was silently grateful for.

"Luckily, memorizing the ratios is rather easy once you use them, as the difference can be felt. If you ever work out a better equation, though it isn't very likely, you'll be paid handsomely by the Lyceum. It improves the ease and quality of spellcasting for everyone. It's usually the theoreticians and thaumaturges who find those advancements though."

"Thaumaturges?", Jon asked.

"They study the mechanics of magic at a more in depth level than most wizards."

Moro and Jon continued through the city, which was bustling this early in the afternoon. They stopped outside a worn down two-story wooden building which wasn't recieving much traffic.

"Where are we?"

"This Jon, is the local Guild. In some places, they're called Dungeoneers, Explorers, Adventurers. But here, in Ral, we just call them the Errant."

THE ERRANT! Of course Jon knew who they were. Some of the greatest heroes of Ral were members of the Errant. They were the best of the best. Potentially of the best.

At least here on Ral.

Had a mysterious trinket inhereted from your grandfather that you couldn't make sense of? Hire the Errant to investigate it. You had a trade caravan that needed to pass through bandit infested territory? Hire the Errant to protect it. Or stamp out the bandits. Or just hire them to ferry the goods for you.

Dragons stealing your sheep? The Errant. Need to send a message to another of the Four Great Continents? The Errant. Your significant other was kidnapped? The Errant have the best recovery rate of any organisation.

Their rates reflect that.

They weren't as prevalent in Imat, because the Imperator was a good one, and did his job rather well. However the Guild still had a presence, because they were just too useful not to.

"What are we doing at the Guild, Master?"

"I'm not an active member any more, but I can still accept requests below a certain level and recommend new members. Today, we're going to find you a request to fill that will take you out of Imat, so you can get used to casting in varying Aether densities."

Jon blinked.

"You're no longer a what now."

Moro sighed.

"Yes I was an active member, you almost have to be to raid ruins, which is where I found knowledge of many of the Icons and spell components I use today."

Jon didn't know what to think. He was pretty lucky to have a learned Master like Moro, he supposed.

They entered the building, and Moro walked up to a large corkboard with hundreds of pieces of paper pinned to it. Looking around, Jon saw there was a large dark wood counter on one side of the building, and on the other was a smoky lounge area with tables and desks and several games being played.

There were perhaps 40 people in the building, some staring at the same request board as Master Moro, some sitting in the lounge and playing cards, or Four Corners, or Chess. Some were simply eating and talking. Two groups were conversing with the people working at the counter.

Moro beckoned Jon forward from where he had been standing inside the entrance, and he quickly made his way to his master's side.

"This one, I think, should be challenging, while also giving you a chance to travel a bit and learn to adapt your spellforms."

He handed Jon the page who began to read it over.

* Open to any freelancer *

My goats have been vanishing,

I believe into the local cave system.

I don't know what is doing it,

but my livestock will soon be gone.

Come to the village of Yvarn

Ask for FFranc

The letter was stamped with a D followed by a dash and a one, in a circle on the top corner, in gold. Moro lead Jon over to the large counter which took up almost the entire wall, except for a set of stairs leading upwards.

They approached one of the guild clerks, and Master Moro pulled out a necklace with a carven lapis insignia at it's end. The clerk nodded his head, and pulled out a large brown book and a quill, uncapping a bottle of ink.

"How can I help you today, Knight Errant Praeteris?"

"My apprentice is in need of some experience out in the countryside, and this request suits those needs. I assume freelancers are still allowed in under a Praeter's recommendation?"

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The clerk nodded.

"They are."

He turned to face Jon.

"Name, age and job?"

"Kerijon, 16............. Uh....."

Moro helpfully interrupted.

"Ranged magical damage and Utility."

The Clerk nodded, seemingly pleased that he didn't have to explain the jobs to Jon.

Jon raised his eyebrows at Moro, who simply raised a hand, a signal Jon had grown accustomed to as meaning: "In a minute."

The clerk spoke.

"Time frame three days, return here to be debriefed, the reward will be based on what is stealing the client's sheep, as well as how you deal with it. As a non-member your payment will be shared with the guild, in a fifty-fifty split. Have a nice day."

Moro and Jon walked out of the guild building, Jon almost bursting from the excitement. A Quest! How cool was that? Admittedly, it seemed pretty easy, but who knows? And he would get to practice his magic almost the entire time, which was a sharp difference from the classroom.

"You were curious about the job you were asked about?"

Moro asked, to which Jon nodded, perhaps too fast, as his neck began to cramp.

"Essentially, there are different roles an Errant can fulfill. Ranged fighter, Close combatant, healer, researcher, merchant, sailor, there are dozens of potentially useful roles. Most Errants fulfill a few of them, with at least one usually being a combat role, unless they have some exceptionally valuable skill."

"So ranged magical damage and utility?"

"Most of the cantrips you are comfortable with in combat are ranged, and all your other spells are considered to be of a utility nature. Sympathetic repair is a perfect example. If someone's sword cracks in combat, you can repair it. That's tremendously useful."

Jon nodded, wondering about other roles and what they might entail.

"You don't yet qualify for close combatant, or advanced magical damage, but as soon as you reach the Echelon, you will."

"How would me reaching the Echelon qualify me for close combat?"

"Aside from the few short range spells in the First Echelon, you also need to train in the staff. That's one of the parts of achieving the first echelon. I can't teach you the forms, but their purpose is to help discipline your mind."

"Eventually, you may qualify for other roles as well, but you should only ever really put down two or three, as others more specialized in those roles may not be given the opportunity to take part in the request, if all required roles are fulfilled."

They were at the gates of Imat at that point, when Moro waved at a guard, who waved back, and then went into the station.

"I can't come with you, nor can I teach you the staff forms we use, however this staff will serve as a rudimentary focus while you are out and about. It's been scribed with the basic channeling spellform, which will handle any cantrip you're used to using, but if you come up with a new one while on the road, you'll still need to use the components. The village of Yvarn is twenty miles down this road, or thereabouts."

The guard had returned from inside the gatehouse, and was carrying an oaken quarterstaff, which was very nicely carved, and a few sigils here and there, encircled and linked to one another.

Jon looked like he as going to burst into tears. He had come quite a ways since Maht's death, and he was going to keep going. He straightened his back, blinked a few times, and smiled. he as going to do his master, his family and his now gone friend proud.

Turning back only once to see Moro waving at him from the gate, Jon began to hum to himself. He as going to do well, he just knew it.

4 hours of walking later, Jon was cursing himself, his master, the Errant, FFranc, and just about anything he could think of. His legs were utterly killing him, and walking with the staff was barely doing anything to keep pressure off his legs.

"Now I know why wizards are always leaning on their staffs, their legs have given up on them." Jon said to himself.

Thus far, he hadn't felt and difference in the Weave, and was beginning to think he was being wisplit. It made perfect sense, when Moro explained it, but what if there was no bunching or thinning in the Weave. What if it was just even, everywhere?

The thought plagued Jon throughout the first day, until he tried to cast Puppet Hand to grab an apple from a tree. Something felt wrong, and then the ghostly hand emerged from his hand, only to explode in a shower of blue sparks. Jon blinked.

"Guess I'm not being wisplit, good to know."

Struggling for a bit, Jon sat down and poured over his notes, realizing the spell broke because the force was too strong to bend. Using the equation for a denser Aether level, he cast light to work out how much stronger the Aether was there.

"Roughly 1.5 times the strength, plug that in here, force spells using this as the variable........."

It took him a few tries, but once he got the answer from the equation, and applied the ratio of Icon strength, he was pleasantly surprised once again to find Master Moro had told the truth. He feel the spell working properly, as the aether flowed through the spellform.

He arrived at the village after dark, however the Light spell he had active made sure he was seen from a mile away, and the gate opened before he got there.

"It's quite late in the day to be visiting someone in the countryside, Traveller."

The night shift guard who let Jon in began as he stopped the light spell, the local chandlers guild having done their job.

"Actually, I'm here about the Errant Request, the one from Ffranc?"

The guard looked a bit shocked, then nodded.

"Of course Wizard Errant, I meant no offense. Ffranc has left payment at the Horse's Teeth for the Errant who came to fulfill his request."

Jon made his way to the inn, which was clearly visible as the largest building in this village. After a quick identification, he was let into his room, where he immediately collapsed, his legs breathing a sigh of relief.

The following morning, he was introduced to Ffranc, a smelly old man with several missing teeth, all yellow, whose wild hair and darting eyes set Jon on edge.

A garbled stream of nonsense left Ffranc's mouth for the third time, before he sighed and started walking, beckoning Jon to follow him. They soon reached his fields, where he pointed out the entrance to a cave not two hundred metres away, a ten foot circular opening in the edge of a cliff.

"Okay, I'll check it out." said Jon.

Ffranc grunted.

Walking to the entrance of the cave, Jon quickly heard shrieking and raucous laughter. Taking a few steps into the cave, Jon turned his head only to lock eyes with a goblin. An alive goblin, but phobias are a screwy thing.

The goblin took in a massive breath, but before it could scream, Jon thrust his new staff forward, thankful for all the target practice he had gotten with Firebolt.

A ball of flame shot from the end of the staff, piercing the sternum of the ugly creature. The flames covered it's torso, melting it's chest until it lurched over, dead, the sickly smell or burnt flesh and blood stinging Jon's nose.

He was so done. Goblins? Not today. Or maybe ever.

As Jon turned to leave the cave, he saw Ffranc at the opening, alongside two other men. One looked familiar, but he couldn't place wh- THE MERCHANT! Who was at his trial. What the Abyss was he doing here?

As if waiting for him to figure it out, the merchant smiled, and waved, as the third man raised his arms, causing a thundering crack to ring out. Loud as it was, Jon figured it would have been much louder outside the cave.

Then the rumbling started. First one large rock, then another. Soon the entirety of the cave entrance was blocked by large boulders. With Jon stuck on the inside.

No food.

No water.

At least that blasted laughter had stopped.

...the laughter had stopped...

"Oh balls." whispered Jon, as he tried to think of a way out of this mess that didn't involve the inside of a goblin's stomach.