“What was that thing, though?” Tyr had been concerned about his missing of classes before learning that he'd been excused from them. If necessary, his advisor would 'fill him in'. Advisor, also known as Abaddon, was doing just that. Sort of... Not really...
“A curse.” Abaddon replied, turning Tyr's spell aside with a waved hand. They'd do this every other day, even on the weekends. Training to improve the princes aptitude for magic. He'd learned quite a bit, but most of it seemed useless. The progress was slow and he didn't know how to proceed.
“Curse...” Curses were, from Tyr's perspective – a myth. The remnant of a forgotten age where men and women would blame a witch or wizard for each and every one of their daily aches and pains. My back hurts? Must've been a witch! “Curses don't exist.”
“Well, sure. You're not wrong, there isn't some witch in the forest putting makeup on a frog to ensure that your mate gets genital warts. That's valid.” Abaddon articulated himself, not missing a beat when Tyr tried to surprise him with another firebolt that was flicked out of the way. “Old magic, but it certainly exists, just not in the way that your fantasies might position them. Curses are powerful, things that most mages cannot create at will. Very rare. Few humans possess the aptitude for this kind of magic. Forbidden. Even among my kind.”
Abaddon elaborated how all magic in the modern system was comprised of science and math. Runes replacing number to program all manner of effects at the behest of the mage. Magic circles serving as the circuits that conducted the mana. Curses, on the other hand, were different. That was why they were so hard for the modern day system to understand.
They were a magic of guided purpose, with anima spun and twisted out of balance, often to give the spell its own half-sentience. Allowing it to develop by consuming the life force and mana of its host to adapt and change. Simple, certainly not 'intelligent' in the traditional sense, but neither was the viper that filled its foe with venom even as they choked the life out of it. They were very similar to a virus, just of magic rather than a pathogen.
A mass of magic and instinct driven by the cruel and vindictive will of its 'master'. After it was formed, it had no master. Curses were just as likely to turn against their maker as the target, should they be tampered with. An example of this was the blood plagues that had nearly depopulated the young republic over three centuries ago. A spell gone bad that had sunk its teeth into the madman who had made it before spreading on to others. Good intentions, an effort to cure cancer which was apparently quite common an affliction out there, but all of the roads to all the hells were paved with those.
“Tampering with anima is an ill thing.” Abaddon said grimly. “Take it one way, it'll tear you apart at a molecular level – degenerative, slow and painful. Take it the other way, towards life... Worse. Far worse. Races have tried it to overcome their biological weaknesses, or to solve their mortality with what they called symbiotic magic. Curses by another name. Not many of those left, and those that are – you'll not want to meet them, I think.”
“Why could I cure it when nobody else could?” Tyr asked. He still found it hard to believe that he was 'better at magic', even if only in the niche – than all of these impressive mages at the academy.
“That's a good question. Magic theory is pretty cut and dry, but apply magic to a person and it becomes infinitely more nuanced. Do you know what the two principles that power magic in humans are?”
“...Math and science?”
“No. Will and emotion. It's true that a weak spellcaster might never be able to reach level three or four no matter how hard they try, and no amount of either of those things will make up for it. However, metamagic lays outside the classification of spells and their tiers. The 'spell' you cast was not powerful, but it was tremendously singular of purpose. For example...” Abaddon thought for a moment. “Do the same thing with your fire, but pull it toward the opposite end of the spectrum. Dark instead of light.”
He couldn't. Tyr tried his best to coach the magic down the opposite side of the thread but could never manifest it for long, and he didn't reach the 'end'. There was no way for him to manifest the equivalent of the sacred flame. Yet he had no issue bringing the white flame black into being though.
“Not surprising. You have the will, but not the emotion. It's not necessarily a rule that you need either in any specific capacity, but it's typically the case for your kind. Light magic, contrary to what the churches teach you, is not the manifestation of love and warmth and all those warm fuzzy feelings. It's the manifestation of change. Darkness is entropy, plain and simple. Light is calculating and bereft of emotion – whereas darkness is emotion. Not emotional, in a way comparable to the biological spectrum experience by the thinking mind, but reactive. It comes from light, but the opposite rule does not apply. Darkness is far more difficult to manifest in metamagic compared to its twin. Positive and negative, one is not good, nor is the other bad. ”
Tyr nodded. That was one of the most basic concepts of modern magic. Darkness had once been feared, considered 'evil', but the current system didn't allow for that sort of thinking. It was what you did with it that mattered.
Abaddon extended his hand, doing the same as Tyr had. His much darker flames ran through the motions from one side of the spectrum to another, showcasing a rainbow of colors. At either end, it would become barely reminiscent of a flame. His light magic resembled a solid white ball that was hard to look at, and his darkness became a midnight black orb that seemed to bend the space around it.
“This isn't something you'll be able to do at will, maybe ever, not without a mastery of intent. And you, as a... Lesser being, let's say, do not possess these faculties naturally. It's not as simple as 'I want to, so I will', it goes far beyond that. Meta magic can, in theory, be tweaked little by little to create a near infinite series of spells with just normal magic. Infusing and weaving them with all the various elements to generate a similarly infinite number of phenomena.”
“Change, solar, sage, and sacred flame.” Abaddon explained as he switched between the different hues. “Memorizing their purpose is a waste of time. I created these and they are unique to me, they aren't some spell you can write down in a book. Four levels, for a demonstration. And then, you reverse it.”
Black as ink, violet, misty and losing its shape as a flame, and finally – it condensed to the last form. A flame with the body of pure darkness. Blood red with white lightning, menacing enough to make Tyr take a step back. Just looking at it made his head hurt.
“Shadowflame, destruction, scourge, and hellfire. They all have their purpose, and darkness – despite the look on your face – is not something to fear. Change and entropy must exist in all things, universal law. Life and death. Creation and destruction. Without this balance, life cannot exist.”
They ran through the paces of their exercise as Tyr attempted to infuse smaller amounts of light into his fire. Unfortunately, it was all or nothing. Stopping it at a point to create true metamagic was more difficult than taking it all the way down the path.
“Most monsters that prey upon the mortal races are simple animals or creatures who have fallen into one imbalance or another. Light spirits warp and twist their host into fel creatures of duplicity like dryads, tiyanaks, or chimeric beings. Not as in chimeras, but chimeric, there is a difference. There are more, you understand? An infinite amount of them, all warped by cosmic energies.”
Tyr nodded. “How do you know all this?”
“I don't know much of anything at all.” Abaddon replied. “I've been on this earth for a long while and I have more questions than answers even now. Regardless – no getting off topic. Spirits turned to darkness, should they live, become even fouler. At the end of the day, the purpose of light is to create. Naturally, those beings created for destruction are the bigger concern. Undead in some cases are examples of this, but typically only when they rise naturally. Again, emotion. Emotion is significant, and significance is magic. When living things feel, it has an effect less perceptible but no less terrifying than the greatest spell cast by living hands. Magic is an attempt to influence reality, but there are forces in this world that can quite literally bend it.”
“Do you know of the Orik?” Tyr asked.
“Of course.” Abaddon had explored the dark places of the world and seen their ruins. Often too old to be of any use to anyone, but he wasn't keen on discussing his knowledge of the fallen races with humans. “Why?”
“Do you think that they purposely tried to bend the anima to change their race?”
“Perhaps.” Abaddon shrugged. “There are old places, ancient fallen empires that your forebears have torn down and scoured from most of the world. Trolls, goblins, kobolds, perhaps it would explain the existence of beastkin where all other theories have been debunked. Did you know that most species of troll are many times more intelligent than humans when they are born, but the imbalance of life force causes their minds to degenerate to that of a beast after only a few weeks?”
“I did not know that.” Tyr shook his head. It was interesting, hearing all of these things. He'd read a dozen books on the topic of monsters and never managed to find out what kind of creature he'd fought in the caves. They didn't perfectly match any of the recorded subspecies, but were very similar to trolls.
“I cannot take credit for the discovery, but one of my seniors posited long ago that trolls used to be of a preternatural intellect before using a ritual to change their bodies. To create peerless warriors of a race that was naturally weak of limb. Capable of healing from the most grievous of wounds, growing far larger than their kin. By manipulating anima, they found a way to manipulate their biological profile beyond the natural.”
“That's interesting. Is anima really capable of all that?”
“Magic is capable of anything and everything your mind could dream up.” The professor nodded as if such a thing were common sense. “If there was ever a magic truly worth being considered forbidden, it'd be that. Mortals were made with balance in mind, and attempting to subvert that design by force could only bring doom. Like the Orik, perhaps. Killed by their own creations who were too stunted to follow simple commands. As soon as they'd slipped their leashes, it was the end for that great civilization. The great folly of those unwilling to accept their place and their limitations.”
“The point of this.” Abaddon continued. “Is that under no circumstances should you attempt to use meta magic on anima. It's difficult, near impossible for humans – but it is possible. It's important to note this, lest we have madmen turning themselves into liches or worse things. Do you understand this lesson?”
…Worse than a lich?
“Yes.” Tyr replied. He had no interest in breeding monsters. His problem wasn't with mana or anima at all – it was his own world energy that had put him in his predicament. Despite his inconsistent and occasional lack of conscience or foresight, it was easy to guess what kind of a mistake it would be.
“Also...” Abaddon added again. “Don't use metamagic on anything but the basic four elements. I don't quite understand your capabilities, but this is equally important. Anima pales in comparison to what spatial magic is capable of. Or, hypothetically, finding a way to use metamagic on the two governing elements. Do it, and you'll die. No second chances, and you can be absolutely sure that something will come by to make sure you stay that way. There are rules, rules that not even I can break. I'd threaten you with your gods, and they would notice, but there are worse things out there waiting for the overly ambitious. Understand?”
Tyr accepted that, and as ever, he had more questions. Questions beyond counting, but he asked the one foremost on his mind at this very moment. “With all of these balances and various forces tugging against one another... Where does world energy come in? Is it part of the balance between light and dark?”
Abaddon pursed his lips, deep in though. “In truth, I doubt anyone among the mortal races knows how to answer that question. Life needs anima, any life. Anima is required for sentience as well, but not all things are sentient. A weed has anima, a fish in the sea has anima, even the flies that circle around carrion possess it. Pure mana cannot exist in life, and you can use your own mana core as an example. What do you think your mana core is full of?”
“...Anima?”
Abaddon chuckled, the first time Tyr had heard the professor laugh. “It's not so easy as that, but anima... Well, to be blunt, it's not an element. Human hogwash, but there are some who know this already and are ignored by their colleagues. Anima is a blanket term for all native biological energy. It's where mana is filtered through what you call world energy to be accessible by living things. Before the universe had manifested as we see it today, there was – presumably – no anima. No world energy, no anima, no anything. How is this possible? Even the wisest of my teachers could not answer this question. The truth to that is older than life, but they believe that with the introduction of mana came the world energy to prevent the known universe from collapsing into the rift where mana would be considered natural. Think of them as perpendicular supports that hold the roof of our universe in check.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Abaddon didn't seemed to possess the need for taking a breath. Erupting into the worlds worst and most convoluted info-dump of all time.
“A balancing act, with the universe perhaps inventing whatever it needed to keep on existing. Does that make sense?”
“No.” Tyr chuckled with a tinge of exhaustion entering his voice, sitting down. He'd given all he had in the previous days and he was still recovering from his treatment of the headmaster's son. Even if he'd been well rested though, none of this would've made even the tiniest bit of sense... “Not really.”
“Despite what many claim, even those you call the elder races don't get it either.” Abaddon joined him, sitting cross legged on the ground beside his student. “Perhaps we're completely wrong. Truths for the celestials to know and for us to spend all our waking hours searching for an answer that simply doesn't exist. There are many mechanics behind reality that seem random, but it's all part of the scale that governs all. Everything is matched by something else, an infinite series of twins. Balance. It's not perfect, but it exists in all things.”
It seemed like this world, or at least the people living on it, had system upon system to explain their own existence. Abaddon had long abandoned any attempts to understand it, himself. It wasn't his field of study, and concerned him very little. World energy was their own native equivalent to mana, a twin force just like light or darkness. There was no allegory, and probably no answer to these questions.
Questions that not even the ancients had managed to solve.
After their training session, Tyr was once again ferried to see the headmaster. This time, in the man's office rather than a hospital. Lernin stood behind a surprisingly humble hardwood desk with none of the finery or gold leaf one would expect from the trappings of such an important man. Elsewhere, the office was a bit of a mess. Indicating that he was either highly disorganized, or possessive of a unique work ethic. Tyr wasn't really sure.
A globe lay at the side, as tall as Tyr was and thrice as wide, with papers scattered about the platform splitting its equator. He found that odd, a spherical map of the known world with many spots blank or covered in cloudy mist that moved across its surface. Odd because everyone knew the world was flat, not a sphere – what a ridiculous idea that was. How did all the water stay in one place if half of it was perpetually facing downward?
Elsewhere, there was a coffee table and silk upholstered furniture surrounding it, armchairs occupied by a blond man in one, and the other a youth with dark skin several shades lighter than Samson. Definitely southern.
“Thank you for coming, Tyr. Truly. Naturally, I have to thank you for the survival of my son as well.” Lernin turned to embrace the prince in a crushing grip that belied his scrawny frame. It caught him off guard to such an extent that Tyr couldn't help but wince as the air was squeezed clean out of his lungs. He wasn't large, that headmaster, but he had some grease in those knobby limbs.
“Of course.” Tyr replied. “And thanks for calling me Tyr. It's nice to not have to remind someone that I like the sound of my own name more than my title.”
“Magnus, I trust you know who this is?” Lernin gestured, aware that his son was not the most... Inclined to decorum. Better to warn him right off the bat so no trouble erupted in the middle of his office.
“This is your son?” Tyr made the 'astute' observation, noting that the dark skinned boy looked nothing like his father.
“His mother was of Agoron, and thankfully he took after her rather than his old man.” Lernin chuckled, elbowing Tyr and showering him with a wholly unnecessary level of familiarity. Familiarity that made the prince noticeably uncomfortable. There was being amicable, and then there was adopting this cloying attitude. In any case, Tyr would ignore it as he did most things, opting to wish it would stop rather than saying so out loud. Magnus looked a bit tired, with dark rings about the eye well visible through his complexion, but beyond that... Well, he had arms and legs now. Magic truly could work wonders.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, mage Magnus.” Tyr bowed respectfully, shallow at the waist, eliciting a startled choke from the blond man.
Magnus blushed, looking nervously at his father. None would have expected a primus to bow, especially not after all they'd heard of this one in particular. Was he joking, or mocking them? “Please, don't bow to me. It should be I bowing to you. I thank you for saving my life.”
“It was Okami.”
“Okami?”
“Yes.” Tyr replied nonchalantly. “My brother of sorts, I'm not sure if you remember him. Little, white, quite furred. He solved the problem, not me. Give him a steer carcass or something and ensure that he's properly rewarded.”
“...”
“Ah...” Lernin raised an eyebrow, everything about the young man was strange but he supposed it was of little import all considered. Mages were typically strange to begin with, he had gotten used to it over time. “We will certainly do that. However, we brought you here to discuss other things. Your reward, primarily.”
“My reward? I wasn't expecting a reward.” He remembered Micah making a comment what seemed like a lifetime ago, about never doing anything for anyone unless there was some bread or ale in it for you. Savvy? Maybe this is what he'd meant.
Lernin chuckled. “So humble, our rising star. Regardless, there will be a reward. What do you want?”
“I...” Tyr had no idea. He was already wealthier beyond most merchants, of his own wealth and irrespective of his parents houses. “I don't need anything...” He said that with a questioning tone, letting it hang in the air. Tyr could truly think of nothing that he'd want for at this moment in time. “It was a pleasure to meet you, once again. If that is all, I'd like to leave now.”
“...”
“Certainly!” Lernin cried, patting the prince on the back in a fatherly sort of way. “Before that, please understand that as my son – Magnus was bound to find out about your identity. But I can assure you, our lips are sealed.” He twisted his fingers in a locking motion over his lips to accentuate the point. Tyr felt like this was very strange, and he was beginning to grow uncomfortable beneath their stares.
“It's not really that big of a secret, but alright. Goodbye. Please contact me when you would like to deliver the steer carcass to my partner.” Tyr resisted the urge to allow his face to pucker up, thankful for his long legs as he marched robotically from the office and toward the more comfortable climes of his bedchamber.
Kael Emberwind, professor and lead of the battlemage workshop sat in silence with the other two men in the room before breaking the awkward atmosphere. “He is... Not what I expected.”
“Indeed.” Lernin sighed. “He is quite strange.”
“How did you assess him before?”
“I didn't. Do you think I'm foolish enough to draw up the assessment on a future primus, what if his father didn't like it? Abaddon saw to an honest exam, and Morn drew up his personality profile. A 'high functioning psychopath' is what she called him if I remember correctly.”
“Let me see that.” Kael and Lernin had been friends for many years. Here in the pleasure of their own company, with Magnus returned to his quarters – they could speak freely. “Let's see...”
All students and employees at the academy would be given an assessment by a diviner. Astromancy or 'celestial magic' depending on who you talked to, a specific school of study. A bunch of hogwash that said the month someone was born in could explain a great deal about their personality.
Kael thought these people were quacks, but they always seemed to nail a thing on its head. He didn't know how they did it, either. It gave him the creeps. Morn had harassed him for days with it after he'd insisted it wasn't real, jumping from behind bushes and trees to predict Kael's actions. Thus far, she'd only been wrong once. Out of hundred such attempts. He still didn't believe it, reading the future was not possible. Divination was valid, of course, but looking beyond the present was, no matter what she said or showed him, a fantasy. Just a very elaborate set of educated guesses.
The prince of Haran, instead of the one page people might be lucky to fill through four years of time at the academy, had a whopping six sheaves of parchment covered front to back in Morn's excellent calligraphy. Before that, was the re-examination by the mysterious Professor Abaddon from the runesmith workshop.
Tyr Faeron
Weighted Rating: ?? (See notes)
School: Evocation, Enchantment, Anima
Specialization: Undeclared.
*Student possesses at least a B grade mana core but wears a depleted deuritium link about his wrist, 'sentimental value'. Until the students removes the suppression band, he cannot be properly assessed. Current ceiling is a variety of basic level one spells. His only talent seems to lay in the evoking of fire, but only that single element, possibly due to his unknown elemental bloodline. Silent casting, inborn light specific metamagic added on further review.
“...That's it?” Kael was embarrassed at the lack of thoroughness in the report. Practically nothing had changed. “I didn't expect much, and yet I find myself disappointed.”
“Indeed. Basically all I was able to get out of him was that Tyr is a bloodline sorcerer, and you saw what he managed to do with Magnus. A diamond in the rough, maybe.” Lernin shrugged. There was no negotiating with Abaddon. He did as he pleased and they were lucky to get that much out of him. “As you can see, Professor Morn's examination is a bit more exhaustive.”
Tyr Faeron
Sign: Wolf
Tyr of House Faeron and future primus of Haran is a polarizing figure that we in the divination department have found to be a difficult study. He appears to be a highly introverted, high functioning psychopath.
...Possesses almost no apparent capacity for empathy for his fellow man, though reports and observations show that he bears a great deal of fondness for animals.
Reports indicate that he has talent in leadership, forming a band of rogues into a pseudo knightly order to hunt down, torture, and slaughter nobles responsible for the events surrounding the death of his mother.
...Social skills poor, Tyr does not respond well to strangers and keeps a small circle – if any at all.
Further reports indicate that he and his wives rarely speak, and have yet to consummate their marriage. Please note that these are rumors and no proof exists of this, nor are we looking for any in respect to his status.
...Possesses a very poor background and foundation toward academia, despite spending most of his time in the library. Based on his prior action and predilection for duplicity, it is possible that this student is well aware he is being observed and acts as expected. Clear pattern of an emulation of human behavior. Often speaks out loud to himself when alone.
Prefers to be left alone and to his own devices. In the few days that we've had to gather information, professors have indicated that he remains attentive to lessons, but does not make any attempt to participate or socialize with his peers. Respectful and driven, with no known observation of his status being used to gain advantage. Withdraws when given constructive criticism. Appears to be exceptionally emotionally immature.
On the third day of the academy, there was an incident where the heir primus was observed entering a bathroom with five men and leaving alone. Inside the rest facilities, those five students were beaten near to point of death with one requiring two days of bed rest after having his trachea collapsed by a blunt object. Unknown motivations, pending inquiry.
Tentatively assessed as a C rank combatant with a B+ rank threat level. At this time, within the body of control, we do not expect this student to be a threat in the truest sense of the term. Remains relatively amicable and seems to have a strong connection with prince Iscari of Varia – though this relationship may be parasocial on the latter's end.
*My professional opinion is that we continue exhaustive observation of this student. At this time, it would appear that he has been [-------].
At that, the report cut off, remaining unfinished. Kael knew why though, they were code for an entry that was redacted left open to make the report appear truly incomplete. “That still doesn't explain much.”
“Some of it has been left out.” Lernin replied. “Including the fact that he walked into the foglands, slaughtered over a thousand men, and left without a scratch on him. Not just normal men, but a few rogue mages among them. Most concerning of all is that our observation wards planted on him inexplicably cut off at this time.”
“Really?” Kael's interest was piqued. He was no farseer, but that was certainly a talent. To block the attempt of a single mage observing you from a distance was an easy thing, but the 'god's eye' artifact in Amistad was not a single mage. It was the most powerful divination relic in the known world that could see near all of the western continent. Blocking it was not a task any single mage was capable of. Not Lernin, not Kael, not even the council – and they were all well respected. “Makes you wonder.”
“Yes.” Lernin had to agree. He wondered a great many things. Why two primus' were attending his academy, for one. Why Tyr had faked impotence for many years with no rhyme or reason to his random actions. For now, they could only continue watching, and hope that he really was here just to learn and develop himself. “Makes you wonder, indeed.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Stay as far as I possibly can from that monster while ensuring that he doesn't demolish my academy. That would be a start.”