John and Marleya left the street performance behind and headed for the tailor. Arriving there, they made a custom order for John’s gambeson as well as a couple of spare ones. After doing so they returned to the main street and made their way back to the castle.
As they approached the earl’s home, the buildings gradually became more imposing and well decorated, while people were more well dressed. Linen and wool clothes gave way to silk adorned with gold. Gray and brown turned into bright and rich colors. Rochdale didn’t have a clear line dividing the rich part of the city from the rest, but the lower class naturally knew not to wander into these parts.
Most imposing of all, the castle walls soon appeared in the distance.
“You’ll be starting your spell lessons tonight, so you can take this afternoon to rest,” Marleya spoke as they approached the castle.
“Are you sure?” John asked. “I thought you’d want me to focus on my swordsmanship.”
She shook her head. “I want you to do well at the tourney, and the sword is only one of the tools available to you. In single combat, being a Mage doesn’t matter all that much. Somewhat quicker reflexes are good, but nothing compared to the benefits of being an Archmage. Being able to instantly cast weaker spells will make you the absolute favorite to win the tourney.”
John was skeptical. “Aren’t you exaggerating a bit? I mean, there have to be other nobles who also dual cultivate.”
“Sure, but most nobles look down on being a squire as well as the squire’s tourney. Jacke is an exception in this case. More often than not, squires are all commoners who focus on training their bodies as it’s easier than spellcasting. Me, for example. I was born a commoner and never learned how to cast spells. You’re an exception in more ways than one.”
The two reached the castle gates, and it was much more heavily guarded than the entrance to the city. A full score of heavily armored men and women stood at the gates. Archers atop the battlements watched the distance for any sign of trouble.
John wasn’t surprised by the high number of guards considering that the earl lived here. According to Marleya, though, the real reason for the large number of guards was the number of noble guests. “Normally we only have half that number of guards on duty,” she told him.
They both passed through the gates and reached the courtyard where Marleya came to a stop. “Don’t forget what I said about the tourney. If you manage to get there as both a Crusader and an Archmage, then your victory will be a given. I know that you’re a seventh level Fighter, but how are you doing as a Mage?”
“I’m at the third level, so not as well,” John answered.
“You’ll have to put a lot of focus on spellcasting then,” she scratched the shaved side of her head in thought. “Right now we’re training from dawn until dusk. I think it better for us to stop at noon instead. Use the extra time to train your spellcasting.”
“First you tell me to focus on less on my swordsmanship, then for us to spend less time together. Are you trying to get rid of me already?” John asked only half-jokingly.
“Not yet,” she answered with a smirk. “You’re already a good swordsman. I wanted the extra time to get you used to the heavy armor, but now it seems we won’t be needing it anymore.” Marleya didn’t hide her discontentment at that.
John gave her a sheepish smile.
“Regardless, it’s your choice and I won’t force you. Don’t forget though, you mustn’t slack off in your training. The odds will already be stacked against you from the start, and just doing well doesn’t mean that you’ll be able to enroll.”
“Because I’m a half-bred.”
Marleya nodded. “There are no written rules saying you can’t enroll, but yes. Ultimately, the decision falls to Duke Olsandre. In that sense, the Phoenix Academy might be your best chance.” After saying her piece, she turned to the training grounds and left.
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John considered her words. So regardless of his performance, there was still a chance of being refused outright. ‘Fucking great.’
With that knowledge in mind, he headed to the kitchen for lunch before returning to his room. Wanting to start his spell lessons fresh, he took a nap and waited for sunset when he then left for the castle’s library.
Ruban Brewlan, his light element tutor, was a frail-looking man with a hunched back and a headful of white hair. He wore a simple robe of gray linen without any expensive accessory that would give away his status as a Warlock.
John waited as the older man walked to his table at a glacial pace and finally sat down. “Good evening,” he greeted his tutor.
“Yes, good evening. I bet you young man can’t wait to start casting spells correctly?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Unfortunately, spells require a lot of time dedicated to studying the proper words and pronunciations. Even something as simple as an illusion requires days of studying.”
John nodded along, already aware of all of it from his mother’s teachings.
“Now, let’s start with a Mage Light, the simplest of all light spells.” Ruban produced a corked ink bottle, a quill, and a roll of parchment from inside his robe’s sleeves. He handed it all to John. “Write down the words as I dictate them.” He then proceeded to speak a series of seemingly nonsensical words.
While John couldn’t tell the meaning of a single one of these words, he did manage to identify some consistencies between them. For starters, every syllable was composed of a single consonant followed by a single vowel. This contrasted with the words for shadow spells where the syllables didn’t seem to follow the same rule.
Beyond that, the words for shadow spells contained a lot of Z’s, S’s, and U’s, whereas light spells had a lot of L’s, A’s, and E—
“Wrong,” Ruban commented after finishing his dictation and inspecting what John wrote. “Instead of E’s, light spells use the letter Ă.” He waved a finger and the letter appeared floating in the air. “It makes no difference for now, but Archmage spells will take it into account. Write it again. Tonight we’ll concentrate on memorizing the chanting and how to properly enunciate the words.”
John nodded and followed the instructions. Somehow it felt like he was back in kindergarten, still learning basic words. His mother’s teachings were more on the practical side, so he never actually needed to write anything down.
Writing everything down and learning how each word was spelled felt refreshing. For the first hour. As the bell towers outside tolled for the third time, he started to struggle against boredom. First, he had enjoyed the fact that learning spells required very little physical effort on his part, with practically no chances of injury. After writing the word “lamăli” for the nth time, he wondered if stabbing his hand with the quill would help him stay awake.
All this studying also helped him understand why body cultivation was so much more common than mind cultivation. Farmers, miners, and workers in general; all of them cultivated by simply doing their jobs and taxing themselves, so it wasn’t all that different from working out. Exercises, eating healthy, and good sleep resulted in getting stronger.
Mind cultivation followed a similar concept with spellcasters getting stronger the more they cast spells and studied to learn new ones; with some caveats. Not only did it require hard work for years on end, but cultivators needed someone to teach them, and also spellbooks to study. The average commoner could barely read, so books were out of the question for them, and they also wouldn’t have the coin for years of tutoring.
Knowing that made him appreciate Hagen and Athalia even more for how much they were investing in him.
“That’s enough for tonight,” Ruban finally spoke. He pointed at John’s last writings. Letters were swapped and the writing wasn’t even in a straight line anymore. “You’re dozing off.”
“Sorry,” John said, somewhat ashamed of himself. He had even rested before, but he still couldn’t keep himself awake for the whole lesson.
“I understand that sitting down on a chair, writing the same thing for hours on end may not be the most exciting thing you could be doing. But please understand how elemental it is for you to take this seriously while you can.”
“Because of the tourney, I know.”
To John’s surprise, the old man scoffed. “Tourneys, nothing but an excuse for people to hurt one another for the amusement of the masses. The Squire’s Tourney may be a way for commoners to enroll at the academy, but they will all be confined to training their bodies, practically none of them able to pursue the study of magic.”
“They don’t teach magic at the academies?”
“They do, but only to those already at the Archmage stage, or at least on the tenth Mage level. From the second year though, those incapable of breaking through to the Archmage stage are dropped off from magic classes. But that’s not why I say you must take your studies seriously. The older someone is, the harder it is to cultivate. That’s simply a fact of life.”
With more than a small amount of effort, Ruban stood up from the chair. “See this? This is the effect of time, and it comes much sooner to those who don’t take cultivation seriously. So regardless if you join the academy or not, never give up on your studies. Understand?”
John nodded.
“Good. We’re done for tonight. For the next class, I expect you to pay more attention.”