ArchMage Erlaut deftly wove several signs before his only student Amara. She studied the speed with which he cast. The precision of his gestures. His curves were elegant, and she noticed subtle flourishes in both his wrist and index finger movements. Magic trailed and flowed from each sign to the next, responding to their appropriate signs and commands. It occurred to Amara that weaving signs was very similar to sector standard sign language in many regards. Floating in an orderly pattern next to his signs were several sketches, runes, and glyphs. Each adding additional instructions to his spell.
She noted a variety of mind, fire, and a few light runes as well. When he finished, he wove the “complete” sign, and the runes glowed with magic as they compressed and swirled into a focal point just before his hands. As soon as the spell actuated, Erlaut quickly wove a cancel sign, and the spell shattered to mana shards. He tucked his hands into the gold banded sleeves that flowed loosely from his robe. He eyed her intently.
“Now then, what spell did I cast?”
“A divination spell of some type. Or illusion? I can’t tell. The complexity became confusing after the third order of runes.”
Erlaut beamed proudly, giving her an enthusiastic nod. “You were right both times. I was casting a divination illusion. It combines aspects and elements of each. A greater spell, if you will. The light runes weave the two together and help power the spell.”
Amara nodded intently as he explained. She’d suspected as much regarding his spell, but kept her opinions to herself on the off chance of being incorrect. While she’d initially felt luke warm about his praise, she was appreciating it. Erlaut studied her for a moment and grinned.
“But you’d already suspected, haven’t you?”
She blinked, “I-what? N-no.” she stammered.
Erlaut folded his arms imperiously. The full elven snob was on display, but he tinted it with a proud tone. “Don’t play coy with me. I can tell by your reaction, or rather, lack thereof.”
She sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Sometimes he proved he was a capable instructor that paid attention. That made it much harder to fully resent him in the way Luffa did. She disliked his casual classism and even occasional racism. But she couldn’t argue he was a skilled mage and a competent instructor.
“It irks you I know this?” he asked. Though it may as well have been a statement. She’d noticed he had a habit of asking obvious questions simply to place himself in a conversationally superior tone. As though he deserved extra credit for the realization.
She shook her head. The action stiff with denial. “No. Not completely. I just wasn’t aware I’d broadcast my self loudly.” She would have to work on that in private.
“You’ve made great progress in the short time you’ve trained here. You learn quickly and with your natural gifts, I feel safe in addressing you as a proper mage. You are a full-fledged SpellWeaver, if just barely. Take pride in coming so far for a mere backwoods priestess of an agrarian world. You’ve progressed more than even Luffa, limited though she is by her blood.”
A soft-spoken “Congratulations!” came from Rozien tucked within her armor beneath the white mage’s robe atop it. Amara allowed herself a small smile, touching a hand to the book’s cover beneath the robe. She felt like she’d come a long way since the first time she’d trained with Akamori on Morwen’s ship. For once, she finally had a sense of purpose and belonging that went beyond a daily routine. Erlaut was right. She was a spellweaver now.
“Now go, little priestess. Take the rest of your day. Go study with the time if you like. Return tomorrow for a special gift.”
Amara quickly rose, bowing to Erlaut before excusing herself. As she raced through the lecture halls full of younger mages she wondered where Luffa was. She wanted to celebrate and having something sweet sounded ideal. She got back to their dorm and found the primal girl holding an orb of light floating in her hands. It was so bright it almost hurt to look at.
Amara knocked at the doorway before coming in. “It’s just me. Erlaut granted me the title of spellweaver.”
Luffa’s expression lit up as brilliantly as her wisp of light. “Amara, that’s amazing!”
Amara grinned as her friend rushed forward, wrapping her strong arms around her. Amara couldn’t stifle a giggle as her feet left the ground. Luffa’s near draconic strength threatened to squeeze the air free of her lungs, even while in her armor.
“So what now?” Luffa asked as she set Amara down.
“Sweet cakes. Or whatever passes for them on this snobby world.”
Luffa grinned and Amara was thankful their prey was a sweet confection. Guilt for cutting Luffa loose on anything sentient wasn’t something she was in the mood for. The primal’s eye twinkled for a moment.
“I know just the place. Normally I’m not allowed to go on my own, but occasionally, Erlaut would bring me back something. I’ve never gone there myself. His lordship would never allow it.” Luffa said. She rubbed at the golden rune etched collar on her neck. It glowed with pallid white runes that Amara recognized as soul runes.
“Well, you can go with me. Now.” Amara said with a grin. She wanted to steer Luffa’s mood away from her servitude. She supposed Luffa was more resentful of it than Sala was. Perhaps a side effect of the hero worship he heaped on Morwen? She grabbed Luffa’s hand and jogged out of the dorm, half dragging the wild-haired primal behind her.
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“Slow down!” Luffa said, chuckling. Once her friend got her feet under her, the pair slowed to a more casual pace. Amara reached the market quarter with Luffa in tow. The duo did their best to ignore the withering looks from the other Aeryn citizens, but Amara secretly worried about being confronted. She wanted this to be a fun little outing. She didn’t consider the social ramifications of taking a primal into the markets. Trying to enjoy herself and mentally acosting herself created an awkward body language that Luffa picked up on.
“You’re worrying again.”
Amara blinked and glanced at Luffa. “Sorry. I’m just concerned.”
Luffa squeezed her across the shoulder. A gesture Amara felt even through her armor. She smiled and leaned into her friend. Luck was on their side as they made it to a small cafe that smelled of cookies, pastries, and many brewed drinks.
Luffa halted in her tracks, nose working furiously. “My gods, this smells heavenly.”
Amara grinned, tugging the primal to the door. Her grin faded when they entered, and an Aeryn waitress intercepted them.
“I’m sorry, miss. Warslaves aren’t permitted inside without their collar masters.”
“I’m ArchMage Erlaut’s student. He entrusted her to me and asked that I tend to her as a reward for good marks. Should I tell him you denied us?”
The waitress shook her head as recognition sank in. “Ah no! ArchMage Erlaut and his confidants are always welcome here. Please come have a seat.”
Amara tugged Luffa along before anyone else protested. The withering gazes was enough to wilt. Doubt seeped into her positive mood. The server showed them to a booth with a series of wards on them.
She channeled her Maetrayopts and scanned them.
System Info: Privacy Wards. Magnitude 5. Whomever wove these together had some extreme skill and power. No mortal ears or eyes will hear what’s transpires inside. The perfect place for underhanded deals and business in a society flush with riches and loose with morality.
Both Amara and Luffa grinned excitedly as they took their seat in the booth. A strange sensation pouring over them as they passed within the ward’s field of effect. As they did, all the outside sounds pulled away from them. No one looked their way anymore. It was like falling into a void portal.
Luffa peered and whispered conspiratorially. “It’s so strange that we just sat down and no one even cares after a few moments ago. I thought they were going to throw us out. You were amazing, by the way. I’ve seen no one use the nobility to make someone nearly wet themselves like that.”
Amara blushed, half burying her face in her hands. “Noooo.” She said through a half chuckle. She finally relaxed and sighed. “I just couldn’t stomach them treating you like that.”
Luffa’s mischievous smile faded a few levels. The light in her eyes dimmed and Amara saw genuine sadness there. “That’s just how it is here,” Luffa said. The primal girl’s gaze was off in the distance. She caught movement from the corner of her eye and saw a server approaching them.
“May I get you two… ladies anything?” The server asked after an awkward pause when she spotted Luffa within the privacy booth’s ward.
“Two sweet rolls and two honey teas with boba.” Amara said.
The server retreated to fetch their orders. Amara and Luffa settled into comfortable, idle conversation. Amara sharing tales of her time as a priestess. Luffa of her scant few memories of her home world. A short period later, the server returned with a tray, ferrying the rolls and tea.
Cinnamon, honey, and sugar teased at their nostrils in a tag team of flavors. Both of their stomachs growled in anticipation. The two glanced down and then back up and shared a brief chuckle before digging in. Amara couldn’t stifle the moan as her tastebuds fell under assault from the roll. After wolfing down the pastry, she rinsed her pallet with the tea.
When they finished, they each wiped off their mouths with napkins, leaned back and sighed almost in unison. Amara shook her head in thought. “I don’t think I’ll ever eat anything better than that.”
Luffa smiled, but it barely concealed the pain that welled up beneath her mask. “It was good that I’ll grant. But I often wonder if my people made food like this. What they must have been like.”
“I’ve read they were proud warriors. They probably didn’t excel in culinary art too much.” Amara noted softly.
“True. You have little time to spend in a kitchen when you’re practicing your blade work.”
Amara paid for the meal, then slipped free of the privacy barrier in the booth. As she did, a fiery sparrow hovered in flight before her. She blinked with a start and reached out for it to land. As it did, it transformed into a flaming missive.
“We need to talk. - AS”
She rolled the missive up and tucked it into her armor next to Rozien. “I have to go meet with Akamori. I’ll catch up, ok?”
Luffa nodded, and the two parted ways at the cafe entrance. Luffa returning to the spell weaver college, and Amara venturing towards the spell warrior college. Amara approached the warrior campus and the artful shrubbery and pools gave way to marble statues of great warriors long past in various heroic poses. She continued her contemplative walk towards the dorms. Golden spell fighters rose and landed in the quad. The soft metallic song of blades clashing in the distance added to the melodic hum of musical birds.
She knocked at Akamori’s door twice and it opened swiftly to reveal him out of his armor in his training gi from Honshu. Her brow’s furrowed. She hadn’t seen him wear his clothing from home since they’d been conscripted. She touched her breastplate contemplatively. The Captain’s conscription spell written across her soul.
“Good, you came. Cap’s got a new mission.”
“Tell me.”
With that, he invited her in.