I give up.

I just sat there dumbfounded, looking as foolish as I felt.

Vice Dean Agrippina talked more about whores, paused to calculate, and then looked at me while uttering “1,300?”

I closed my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose. Even had I the time, money, and stamina, 1,300 in the span of a few weeks was not something I dreamt of. Come to think of it, my last whore was the day before I joined the army.

I looked at her, perplexed as I usually was, but now dangerously irate. Thanks to her poking her finger into my chest, my heart felt like it was frostbitten. Every beat of my heart sent a relieving warmth through my veins, followed by an equally discomforting icy shiver.

Most people knew not to piss off mages, not when they were paying attention anyways. They could use their incantations to do some pretty nasty things. Though mages quickly learned that using their powers too often to kill resulted in either a volley of arrows as they rounded a corner or a knife wielding assassin. Well trained mages were powerful things of destruction, but still physically frail.

My right-hand fell to the knife at my hip. I was just so tired of everyone kicking me when I was down, everyone hating me, and especially everyone talking about and asking bloody things,

That…

Made…

No…

Sense…

If I could slit her throat, and cut out her heart (best to be doubly sure she was actually dead), I might be able to escape to the forest. My teeth ground as I let go of the knife. No. Even if I survived the mages, I wouldn’t be surviving those hellhoundish barks. I hated having to crawl and beg, but there would be a day when I could stand. And woe to every one of you bastards on that day.

I exhaled, trying to picture myself releasing my anger through my breath. It didn’t work, Gods how I wish I were stupid enough for it to have. I held my hand up, I needed an ounce of logic if I wasn’t going to explode homicidally.

“What the hel… What are you talking about?”

She finally stopped spouting nonsense and looked into my eyes. Her own confusion quickly washed away.

“You have no earthly clue what I’m talking about, do you?”

I shook my head.

She tapped her desk, forming her thoughts before continuing.

“Your SP is no longer 32, no, it’s 357. That is not a small change. Mages’ SP increases through three means, ageing, sex, and quests. Once a mage turns 14, their SP grows a set amount every month, a consistent amount.”

Not a cause for my SP rise.

“Sex is the preferred method for mages to increase their SP, it’s pleasurable and even for the unskilled, it’ll usually result in a net gain of 0.25. Becoming more proficient, and principally finding what you like, can get that number up to 2 at max.”

Interesting, but again irrelevant.

“The final means is through questing; a mage will join others on some quest to faraway lands or dangerous areas. By overcoming their trials and tribulations, they will come back stronger, wiser, and more capable through the use of their magics.”

That sounds like what I went through…

“So my power went up because of all that I went through?”

“Not necessarily. Your case is unique, as questing can also decrease a mage’s SP, particularly if they suffer too grievous a wound,” she motioned to my chest.

“Could it be my healing power? I mean, it probably worked overtime reconstructing my heart.”

“RECONSTRUCTING YOUR HEART?” She whispered amazed.

She licked her lips peering at my chest. I crushed the bridge of my nose in my fingers. Great job there, soldier. Why don’t you just tell the enemy your weak points while you’re at it?

“No. Your wounds are still fresh, maybe if they were fully healed. Your ordeals have something to do with it no doubt,” she smirked lasciviously, “Perhaps you enjoyed the pain? Maybe you got excited by all that suffering?”

I thought for a moment, poison, Kevin, hole in the chest, fleeing… Each pissed me off in their own exceptional way, but never did they excite me. Avoiding pain was my tertiary goal, becoming stronger and slaughtering my enemies the primary and secondary.

“No, not at all.”

“Are you sure? You know, I could help you experiment. My quarters are nearby, and I am quite skilled in such arts.”

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She pushed her average sized breasts forward and fluttered her eyes seductively. Her voice also more saccharine. Her face was exquisite, though her skin was a pale chalk white. Most go crazy for women with such skin. For me, I a preferred a woman with a bit of a tan. Princesses who didn’t have to work in the sun required far more maintenance, and patience, than I was willing to spend.

“NO.”

While crazy often enough made for great sex, having sex with a crazy partner who could literally freeze me solid seemed, not the smartest of options.

“Ah, we could’ve helped each other so much, I am very adept at both pain and pleasure...”

She smiled at me. I shuddered, fully believing her. She noticed my apprehension and laughed, resuming her more relaxed manner.

“Ah, but that’s alright. There is another way we can help each other. I can become your mentor.”

“NO.”

I don’t even consider her absurd proposal. She liked to inflict pain and I healed very rapidly. Yeah, even without the sex I knew what would come of that.

She glared at me, her eyes glowing light blue. The temperature fell again. I crossed my arms and sat firm, I’m going with the bad choice today, not the suicidal one.

Abruptly she smirked, the temperature immediately back to normal.

“Very well, mage trainee Tome Rimoude, I will not force you. You may do as you like.”

She began examining papers on her desk, I waited politely before getting the message. I stood to leave but as I reached the door, it slammed shut. I turned back to Agrippina, still taking care of her documents.

“Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to go through a thought experiment with you.”

She didn’t even look up from her work. I moaned and returned to my seat.

“From what the commandant wrote me, it seems as though you possess the uncanny ability to piss your fellows off. To the point of several actually trying to off you.”

I growled, so the officers did know my fellow soldiers were trying to kill me!

“Oh, gee, such a terrible affliction, but I’m sure here will be different,” her voice reflected the childishness of that last thought.

“I forgot, you don’t fully understand how the Mage Spire works, or even magic do you? Well, I’m sure your fellow students and instructors will do their utmost to see to your improvement.”

She wasn’t not wrong, but a little guile or money could go a long…

“Do you remember your encounter with the cleric last night?”

I remembered the white robes, kind of…

“She was quite adamant that you were the worst piece of scum she’s ever seen. She refused not only to heal you, but to even consider it. Her mother is our healing instructor, just how much coaching do you think you’ll obtain from her?”

Well this was bad…

“I’m sure you think your powers something special, beyond your healing I assure you, THEY ARE NOT. Your SP might be over 350, but compare that amount to mine, 141,000 and counting. You are a slightly large small fish in an ocean of terrors, how safe do you feel?”

Not very, but still only just bordering on terrible territory…

“Also, like I said, SP is a rough estimate. How many spells can you cast? OH, that’s right, NOT…A…Single…One… You need to learn how to cast spells first, and even then, SP is only a fraction of what you need to be successful. Add to that soul engraving, which costs several gold per etching… Hmm? Your shirt doesn’t look like something a lesser noble would wear, much less the peasant you are.”

I’m a burgher, not a Godsdamn peasant! Okay, now this was terrible, the vials might get me one soul engraving…

“And let’s assume you’re resourceful and plucky, you made it this far without dying right? Well, the semester doesn’t start for another two weeks. Two weeks of sitting in your room, praying you don’t piss off any upperclassmen. Wasting so much time and potential… I want you to think about that for a moment.”

Gods no… Why were my best options always suicidal? Half a month wasted, and then instructors who might not be willing to help me. There was a very large chance I would fail to adequately improve. That hulking man and thin woman were going to skin me alive.

I grumbled aloud before asking the obvious.

“And how would you being my mentor aid me?”

She perked up, “Why, I would personally instruct you daily. I can teach you the basics and, most importantly, the arcane of your water affinity. As for healing, I can give you a few pointers, and guarantee no one will refuse to instruct you. Also, I will personally pay for, and perform, your engravings.”

“And what do you gain from all this, generosity?”

“Why, the privilege of being a mentor to a budding mage!”

I looked at her in disbelief, she laughed evilly.

“Long ago my SP quit improving. I need pain to get SP advancements, not many partners are willing to take the amount I can inflict. With your healing, that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I’m not having sex with you,” I felt pathetic when the words left my mouth, but my life held more value to me than any carnal delights.

“The sex isn’t important, it’s the infliction of pain. I promise, both of us will advance by leaps and bounds.”

“And it will hurt like nothing else every step of the way, won’t it?”

She beamed, “YES, YES IT WILL. Well, what do you say?”

“You won’t kill me, steal my soul, or actually enslave me, will you?”

She thought for a minute.

“No, killing you would be a one-time gain, your soul is too weak to profit me, and enslaving you…”

She trembled in ecstasy with the thought before shaking her head.

“No, no. Breaking you would be delicious, but sadly, only a one-time course. With your abilities, I view you more as a sheep to be shorn than a lamb. I can offer you my protection, which is a lot more than anyone else is going to offer you.”

Life was suffering punctuated by short periods of joy. That thought didn’t make my situation any better, but it kept me sane. Ranting at the Gods for calamity suffered was worthless, put up or shut up. Right now putting up was beyond me, I had to shut up and take what was offered. Orc shit that it was…

I stretched my hand forward, meeting hers. She had a firm, death cold grip.

Her smiled turned mischievous, “Oh what fun we shall have.”

---------------------------------------------

Most people think, erroneously, that fire mages are the most unstable mages. That is patently false. Fire mages are willful and passionate to the nth degree, but that is their normal emotional state. Water Mages (pauses in disdain), are instability personified. Like the ocean, their exterior is peaceful, but shut your eyes for but a moment, and tempests and storms rage. No causes or justification needed.

You always know where you stand with a fire mage. With a water mage, underneath their pacific façade lie churning waters and emotions, accented by cruel monstrosities few have survived. The waters lure sailors with the promise of easy faring and untold riches, only to devour them instantly, leaving not a trace.

So, trainees, when asked whether you’d prefer to be a water or fire mage, remember well the immortal words of the Spire’s first fire mage, “Learn to burn, then burn away every Godsdamn water mage.”

-Emblest Albus, Head Instructor of the Fiery Arts (Renamed after the great fire mage drinking bout of last month, subject to change upon soberer reflection).