Chapter 33 - Ore and Identification
Magrath, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995
Amara snorted when Isolde poured the contents of her bag onto the bed. Heaps of stones clattered out, rolling around before eventually sinking into the blankets. They were all different sizes and shapes, Amara noted, and none of them looked as smooth or as polished as Isolde’s earrings or the ore she’d seen on the guards and Lord Alardice himself.
She reached over and picked one up, running her fingers along the stone’s surface. It felt like a regular rock to her. Her eyes drifted over to the little paper label wrapped around it, squinting to make out the inked letters.
#KXDL98310046
CLASS: 1 | GRADE: E | ENERGY
Activation: 3
Maximum Output: 5
Available Magic: 10
“You can keep that one.”
Amara glanced up at Isolde, who had taken a seat at the edge of the bed and appeared to be sifting and sorting through the ore.
“Uh, thanks?”
The woman nodded. “It’s the lowest class and grade available, but it may prove useful in an emergency.” She frowned, a dark look crossing over her features. “Nothing in that storage area was above Class 3 or D Grade. I assume the higher quality ore is stored elsewhere, perhaps taken to the manor directly.”
“Hm, well that makes sense I guess.” Amara studied Isolde’s expression closely. It was a bit surprising how annoyed the other woman looked. “Technically he didn’t promise any specific kind of ore, right?”
“No he did not,” Isolde conceded. Her shoulders relaxed somewhat, but she still looked irritated. “Well, regardless, I suppose this is sufficient for training purposes.”
Amara tossed the ore up and caught it again in her hand. Its weight also felt about the same as a regular stone. She raised it up to the light streaming through the window. If she tilted it at just the right angle, she could make out a sight sheen to its rough surface that reminded her of the more refined ore she’d seen, but it was significantly duller in intensity.
“So what’s all this stuff on the label mean?”
“The top is the identification number used for processing,” Isolde explained. She picked up an ore herself, pointing out the various parts of the label. “The activation number indicates how much magic is necessary to convert the magic present in the ore into a type usable by humans, while the maximum output, as you may expect, displays how much magic can be drawn from the ore at once. Available magic is simply how much total magic is stored in the ore.”
Amara stared down at the label. “3 activation for a max output of 5. That only saves 2 magic, right? Huh. Figured it’d be more than that, with how much people hoard these things.” Then again, she supposed it would add up. For people who regularly used magic, ore was crucial in preserving one’s reserves.
“As I mentioned before, that ore is both the lowest class and the lowest grade possible. Ore classes range from 1 to 8. The higher classes require less activation magic and have higher maximum outputs, making them much more efficient.” Her finger tapped along the label. “The grade roughly measures how many times an ore can be used based on its available magic. Grade E ore can only be used once or twice at maximum output before breaking.”
Amara nodded. “So how much magic does the high quality stuff preserve?” she asked, curious.
“Class 8 ore takes 1 magic to activate and has a maximum output of 12. At S grade, it would range between 31 and 50 uses.” She paused, then added, “The S+ grade exists as well, but that’s only available to the Sovereign and the dukes.”
Amara did some quick math in her head. “So something like 550 magic saved per ore.” She whistled. “Damn. That adds up quick.” Her eyes drifted over to the pile, and she hummed thoughtfully. “Hey, what happens when you put out more output than the ore’s maximum? Does it cap automatically? Does ore have its own minimum?”
That got a smile out of Isolde. “Unfortunately, your variability still determines how much you can adjust your output, so I’m afraid this would not be a solution to you—”
“—blowing shit up every time?”
“Yes, that.” Isolde brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “What would happen is that the rest of the necessary magic would be drawn from your reserves as usual.”
“Hm, okay.” So it would still save some magic, but her largely static output would still be a problem. Amara tossed the ore into her bag and scooted a little closer, leaning towards the other woman with a grin. “Hey. We’ve got time to start training today, right?” The Aberration attack had interrupted their earlier plans, and now that she knew about skills and they had ore, she was itching to do something. Sitting around the inn room was quickly becoming dull, now that the room itself had lost its novelty.
Isolde chuckled. “Yes, I do believe so.” She paused, then added, “Before we leave, I’d like to check your coins for forgeries.”
Amara raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you were serious about that.”
“Very much so.” The woman waited expectantly, and Amara shrugged and stood to grab her coin bag. It was a simple cloth drawstring pouch, and she didn’t hesitate to dump its contents out on the bed beside the pile of ore. She tossed the empty bag off to the side and flopped back down onto the mattress.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Okay, so how’s magic identification work? You said it was important to learn, right?”
Isolde had already picked up a handful of the coins and was weighing them in her hand. Their dull metal surfaces looked brighter when they were nestled in her dark gloves. The woman closed her eyes, remaining silent for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she set the coins aside in a separate pile save for a single one, which she kept and held up for Amara to see.
“You’re aware of the existence of auras when magic is activated, correct? To put it simply, a bit of that magic aura lingers long after activation. Simply identifying the presence of magic shouldn’t be particularly difficult, especially not when you’ve been exposed to magic so frequently already.” Her eyes briefly shifted over to where Amara’s scars were covered by the gloves, then back up. “Here. Close your eyes and concentrate first on your own magic reserves. Remember that sensation, then try and expand your focus to the coin.”
That sounded simple enough. Amara took the coin and shut her eyes. It didn’t take long to identify the constant presence of her magic reserves, a pool of energy that had been warped and altered so many times throughout her time at the facility. Still, as much as it had changed, even as it steadily drained into a smaller and smaller size, she could always recognize its ever present warmth. Her magic burned like sunlight, and when she activated it, it would flare into a blaze. For now though, it remained a subtle, pleasant sensation, and she felt her muscles relax instinctively.
Amara reminded herself to focus on the task at hand. So, squeezing her eyes shut a little tighter, she tried to do as Isolde had instructed. She focused on the feeling of her magic, then attempted to split her attention to the weight of the coin in her hands. She furrowed her brow as she struggled to reconcile the two sensations. For a second she thought she felt a slight spark around the cool metal, but it was only there for a second before the presence of magic disappeared entirely from her perception.
Amara opened her eyes again and blinked a few times, frowning. “I think it sort of worked? It felt like a spark or something, but then I couldn’t feel anything.”
Isolde nodded. Amara saw that the pile of coins beside her had nearly tripled by then, and she wondered how long she’d spent focusing for Isolde to have already scanned that many more.
“That’s normal. It takes time to learn how to maintain concentration. If you keep practicing, your senses will strengthen and eventually grow stable enough to register the presence of magic without so much focus required.” She paused, frowning, and tugged one of the coins currently in her palm out and set it aside, forming a new pile. “This one’s a forgery,” she muttered before reaching for a few more.
Amara snorted a little at that, then closed her eyes again. She went through the same process, but this time, now that she knew to some extent what that spark had felt like, she tried to focus on it when she expanded her awareness.
This time, she could discern more details about the sensation. The aura around the coin was faint, and though it had a similar warmth to it as her own reserves, it was a lighter feeling. The magic around it almost seemed to dance, whimsical and lively. Before she could try and isolate it more, however, the sensations once again vanished. Still, she’d definitely been able to do it for longer this time.
Grinning, Amara closed her eyes and tried again, blocking out the sounds of clicking coins as Isolde continued to make her way through the pile.
It took her five more tries before she was able to hold her focus for more than a few seconds. By then, Isolde had already finished sorting her coins into two piles and was sitting watching her patiently. The woman raised an eyebrow.
“How is it?”
Amara set the coin back down into its original pile, noting that the pile for forgeries was quite small, all things considered. It seemed like Winrow was fairly good at keeping its circulating money legitimate. She felt oddly proud of that fact.
“I think I’m getting the hang of it. It takes a long time to start, though.” She paused, humming to herself. “That aura. It felt kind of like, I guess like a bunch of dancing sparks or something? It’s a little hard to describe, to be honest.”
Isolde smiled at that, and the woman looked genuinely pleased, Amara noted.
“That would be the Sinclair family’s aura,” she explained. “That same magic signature should be present on every piece of currency exchanged throughout Augustein.”
The Sinclairs were one of the three major noble houses, and they primarily controlled the Chaunton dukedom in the southwest. Compared to the Rosevales and the now overthrown and replaced Raymoths, the Sinclair family hadn’t sat on Augustein’s throne nearly as often. The first time was close to the beginning of Augustein’s history, and that had been a golden age, Amara remembered learning. The second time they took power, however, had been nothing like the first. That was the era when Aberrations began to appear more frequently and the consequences of ore mining started to hit the continent. Supposedly the Sinclairs had never tried to take the throne again after that, but they maintained their power through their control of the treasury. Even now, they were probably more wealthy than the Rosevales despite the latter currently holding the throne.
“So families usually have the same magic signature?”
Isolde paused at that, and for a moment something flashed in her eyes before she shook her head. The look vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.
“Not always,” she said simply. “Often there will be clear similarities between the magic signatures of parents and children, but it’s possible for a child’s aura and markings to be quite different.” She nodded at the coin piles. “In the case of the Sinclairs, you needn’t worry about that. They always ensure that at least one member of the family has a similar enough signature, and that member is given the responsibility of marking the coins. I believe currently Duke Sinclair’s brother is the one with this duty, as the duke’s own aura is a bit different from the traditional Sinclair signature.”
Amara hummed in interest. She reached over and pulled one of the coins from the pile of forgeries, taking a second to inspect it. On the outside at least, she couldn’t tell that there was anything different about it. The weight felt the same—or at least it did to her—and the markings were identical to the ones on the other coins. Form magic could accomplish quite a lot.
Closing her eyes, Amara focused on the counterfeit coin this time. Without a known magic signature to go off on, it ended up taking her two more tries before she was able to identify the aura surrounding the piece.
Unlike the Sinclair aura, this one felt much heavier, like solid earth, and it had a cooler sensation to it. When she opened her eyes again, she blinked down at the coin.
“Wow,” she said. “That really is different.”
She placed the coin back into the pile of forgeries and shoved them to the side while she moved the real ones back into her limp pouch.
“Thanks for going through all these, by the way. This probably would’ve taken me hours if I tried doing it myself.”
Isolde just chuckled. “Indeed. And there’s no need to thank me. This was good practice for me as well.” She tapped the back of her gloved hands and rose from the bed, taking a second to smooth out the wrinkles that had formed in her clothes. She nodded at the pile of ore. “Now, would you please help me pack this before we set out?”