Chapter 3 –

Professor Artrillious Rundil

Professor Rundil had never seen a child so naturally gifted as the one before him, and it seeing that tremendous potential go to upset him more than if someone had spit in his morning tea. As the most tenured Master Mage and headmaster of apprentices such tasks such as entrance exams were normally beneath him. Even though it was rare to see a commoner like the boy come through, these meetings were usually quite routine.

Still, when that moronic, pontificating Poupon mentioned Ashur to him a year ago, he had been intrigued. Even if ninety percent of the time his colleague spoke pure gibberish, he was still one of the top diviners in the kingdom. If Poupon went so far as to make a direct recommendation, it was best to listen. So when it was suggested Rundil meet with the boy, he immediately agreed. He needed to see for himself what Poupon’s said would be, “A spectacularly talented, genius mage but completely worthless to the guild.”

Rundil cursed a few times under his breath. He truly hated it when Poupon was right.

Few mages in the tower would have spent the extra few minutes explaining to the boy his exact circumstances, but Rundil had always been different then his colleagues. In fact, the master mage could barely stand to be around most full mages. Power tended to make assholes out of normal men, and it surely made magical assholes out of most mages. Simply being born to wealth or with the ability to wield magic did not make you better than everyone else. It just gave you more ability to affect the people around you. So unlike most members of his conceited guild he was content to wait out Ashur’s stunned look in silence. A few minutes of patience were slight recompense for the crushing of a child’s dream.

Rundil had always been different, and now at the peak of his career, he could ignore most standard mage conventions. He was a gifted battle mage, but had given up fighting in wars and exploring dangerous ruins in order to teach. He had always enjoyed the process learning, and it seemed that the more he taught the basics, the better he understood them. Indeed going over them so many times had allowed him to understand magic at a different level than his fellows. His spell efficiency was going up and his anima was filling, even though rarely ventured out of the tower.

There was something pure about instructing the young. Their innocence joys when first learning magic revitalized Rundil’s own love for the art. The boy in front of him had obviously dedicated himself to learning the craft and represented everything Rundil wanted in a student. In hoping to ease the child’s mind and give him hope, he chose spend a few minutes to explain things.

The silence was palpable while Rundil waited. With his green eyes filling with tears, Ashur glanced back and forth from his father to the master, clearly heartbroken. The poor thing was mumbling, “No, no, no” over and over. It seemed like Ashur was trying to say more, but nothing intelligible came from his mouth. It just kept opening and closing, like a fish gasping in the air.

Rundil could tell that Adrain was as frustrated as the kid, but the cobbler still placed his hand on the child’s shoulder in an awkward attempt at comfort. When the pathetic slumped figure in front of him looked up with tear-filled eyes, Rundil was waiting patiently to answer the inevitable questions.

When Ashur able to form words, he asked, “So I can’t learn magic?”

“You have already learned magic child,” Rundil sighed, “but this is likely the only spell you’ll ever learn. I’m going to tell you a few things about casting spells that only full mages are privy too, because even if it doesn’t seem like it, there are still quite a few very good things about your current situation.

“Your natural aptness at spell casting and meditation are phenomenal, and your affinity to force magic is very strong. I’ve never before seen a child understand a spell so well, even with in depth instruction. Any imprinted idiot with mana can cast a spell, but learning it the old way is tough, and doing it well is a forgotten art. You my boy, even with your tiny mana pool and stunted soul, are an artist.

“Even if you never cast another spell, having mana in and of itself is something to be grateful for. Like those who imprint lots of vitality, mana users tend to live longer than normal people. I haven’t spent much of my anima on vitality, and look at me. I am 182 years old and could possibly live to see 250, which is not uncommon for stronger mages,” Rundil, who looked to be in his sixties, chuckled, “All because I have such a large amount of mana flowing through me.

“Besides living longer, you will generally be healthier than the average person. Bruises and cuts will tend to heal a little faster. If you do catch a cold or other ailment, this increased natural healing will have you quickly on the road to recovery. The extent of both is determined by how much mana flows through you. Simply put, the more you cast, the healthier and longer lived you will be. So meditate and cast often.”

“Now, imprinting allows you to use a skill, or cast a spell, but it doesn’t make understand it. In order to increase their efficacy, we still teach the future mages how each spell works. The understanding of a spell is a very personal affair, and different for each affinity, but there are some common truths that can still be applied and shared. As a teacher I would like to know how you trained and became so adept with Grasping Hand. It may be something that could be taught to others,” Rundil finished, and looked at the boy expectantly.

Ashur, who looked to be overwhelmed, did not respond until nudged by his father.

After a momentary delay, he responded. “Umm. I mainly just used the spell to play with things. First it was moving stuff around the shop…you know boots, leather strips, stuff like that. Then I just used it when goofing around in the back yard.”

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“What the boy means to say, is that he uses magic to play in the mud,” Interjected Adrian.

“Umm. Yea, that too,” Ashur said quietly.

“Calling mud sounds quite disgusting. I’m surprised your father would allow you to get to that filthy.” Rundil stated.

“Well, I built castles and soldiers. The soldiers would storm the castles and I would defend it with mud artillery.”

“Wait a minute! Are you saying that you can sculpt mud with the spell?” Rundil was astonished yet again.

“Yea,” Ashur agreed distractedly, until he was elbowed by his father again. He knuckled his downturned head before saying, “I mean, Yes sir.”

Like a braying donkey, Rundil started laughing uncontrollably. The cacophony continued long enough that Adrian and Ashur began to exchange awkward looking glances. Leaning forward and shaking his head as he gathered himself, Rundil spoke again.

“Grasping Hand is used to lift an item and bring it to you! That is its entire function and purpose! Using a spell beyond its limits is what we call Shaping. It is the process of manipulating the spell past its normal boundaries by using your Will. Will, is a complicated subject that I don’t have time to go into at the moment, but trust me when I saw that it is an extraordinarily rare to be a natural Shaper. Hells, if it wasn’t impossible for a mage to be a wizard we would be sending you to the Imperial Academy.”

The Imperial Academy was located on the main continent of Ugera, but it was well known everywhere else. Only the best of the best, or the fantastically rich could go there. It was a place where you would receive the best training in the world for any skill set. If you graduated from there you were sure to become a legend.

“What else can you do with the spell? Can you push items away from you as well?” Rundil asked.

Ashur nodded before casting the spell again. Grabbing the smaller weight he floated it around in a circle and then sat it back down gently onto the table.

“Damn if that isn’t something.” Rundil said after another moment of shock. “That looks just like lesser telekinesis, of the more mana intensive lesser class of spells and with the base cost of 100 mana. Normally it can only move small weights like grasping hand and is generally unpopular due to the excessive cost for the weight capacity, but when a shaper uses it, it becomes something else entirely.”

Rundil looked thoughtful and said, “Hmm, allow me to give you some more guidance.”

“Not many fully cast spells the old way like you are doing. You see, a simple spell, like Grasping Hand, is made up of five parts. You have to see and empower the rune, draw it, speak it, and then visualize the effect. But if the spell is truly understood, the caster can cut two of those actions out. Speaking the rune and drawing it are merely aids to help mages focus and channel the mana into the rune. Do you think that your finger wiggling in the air is actually drawing a rune of power? In fact for more powerful spells mages are taught specific hand gestures for each rune of the spell. The real effort is all in your mind, and it is focus that is the true key to perfect casting. The actual rune image itself is what’s most important. If your understanding of the rune is perfect and your mind is strong enough, no physical actions are required!

“That entire process is what we imprint upon a person’s soul. It is a far more efficient use of time to learn the basics of a spell and then get it imprinted. Just like using a skill, the mage just yells out the key word for the mnemonic trigger, then points and casts. In the time it would take to master a cantrip like Grasping Hand, we can teach and imprint a mage with dozens of spells to be cast just as quickly, if not as efficiently.”

“You could perfect your spell the old way boy, if you worked on it. Don’t think it will easy to do boy. Silent casting is very difficult to learn, and few mages manage it with even minor spells. Even with imprints, I can only cast a handful of spells without speaking the keyword. It requires an absolute understanding of each particular spell.

“Now I need to also give you a couple of warnings. In the cantrip’s booklet, you saw that a full spell is made up of several combined runes. Sometime new mages decide that they can try to invent their own spells, rather than purchasing new spells or imprints from the guild. I’m not going to go into the history of the runic language, or why it represents what we understand of magic, but trying to change the design of a spell without decades of experience is almost always fatal. Only certain runes fit together, and there are specific synergies that must be maintained. Do not be tempted to cast just one of the runes, or combine them in a different order. It won’t work, and the backlash will likely destroy your mind or possibly kill you. It’s not worth it. Trust me on this.

Rundil stood up and smoothed out his exquisite robes.

“Damn boy, you are the most interesting thing I have come across in a long while. I’d like to see how you progress. How about you come by after you make some progress the old fashioned casting? If can do that I’ll give you a couple of minor spell booklets for free. Speaking of spells I’ll tell our shop to allow you access to more booklets if you ever come into any money. Go ahead and keep the Grasping Hand manual, as a consolation gift from the guild. And hey, think positive. In forty years, when your mana pool passes 200, come back by. We’ll make a mana battery out of you and you’ll be rich.”

“Well, that about sums it all up. I truly wish the best for you two, and remember that a lot of what we spoke about are guild secrets and all that, so keep them. Don’t make the mistake of forgetting and ending up in an early grave.” Something about Rundil’s tone made the threat real, all while he held a smile on his face that reached his eyes. With a small wave and a bounce in his step, the old mage left the room.

******

Ashur

“Blistering ballsack!” Adrian cursed, “Guess that means we’re not going be living the good life ‘eh boy? Oh yea, and that sucks about the whole stunted soul thing. Poor schmuck, not only do you not get in, but you can’t imprint. I’d have never have gotten with your momma if it wasn’t for all those points I put into charisma, or kept her without those points in dexterity.”

Despite how disgusting that comment was, Ashur couldn’t even summon the energy to respond to his father as he waggled his eyebrows lewdly. His dreams had been crushed as thoroughly as wheat under the millstone. Not only were his hopes of being a mage crushed, but without the ability to imprint he wouldn’t be able to raise his base attributes. That was a far bigger issue than not being able to cast spells.

Adrian in a rare moment of empathy actually noticed his son’s plight, and managed to shut up while the boy recovered. He even made another half-assed attempt at consoling his son, but the boy didn’t hear any of it. Ashur was too focused on staying upright underneath the invisible burden of failure. The only thing he could do was put one foot slowly in front of the other, and try to make it home.

Ashur’s thoughts were not only of his own current inadequacies but also of his lost future. Working on bettering his spell casting had been a truly rewarding experience. Every time he made small improvement, like being able to make a more detailed mud-man, or building a slightly taller mud tower, he had gained an indescribable feeling of accomplishment. It gave his life meaning, a reason to get up in the morning that shoemaking would. He had been looking forward to raising his skills and attributes the same way, like little small steps of improvement, but now it would never happen.

He was slotted for a life of mediocrity, a cursed soul without the ability to level up.