Accept or refuse?

Helton's offer felt closer to theft than a genuine, even trade. I might lack the status for a truly equal partnership, but their offer bordered on insulting. I would gain a paltry sum of gold and knowledge but lose the pool in exchange.

The choice felt obvious. Refusing would yield less knowledge, but the sacrifice was too great. No, it was best to study the water myself, learn what I could, and retain the pool rather than take such a gamble.

Still...what about another alchemist? I had chosen Simon's family because of our friendship and their reputation, but maybe that was a mistake. A less well-off alchemist might be more generous. Or desparate.

When my day off came, I could head into Volaris and look around for a possible shop. But first, there was a possibly uncomfortable conversation ahead of me.

Simon seemed to be waiting for me and answered his door within seconds. I did not dance around it, explaining that although I appreciated their 'generous' offer, I had to decline.

I had expected disappointment or maybe frustration from my friend. Instead, I saw Simon's shoulders relax, and his smile changed from polite and fake to warm and genuine.

"I'll let my father know," Simon said, then paused before walking to his desk. He returned a few seconds later, handing me a thin stack of papers.

"What is this?" I asked, glancing over the first page. It had a few paragraphs of superficial observations, noting color, viscosity, boiling and freezing temperatures, and other physical properties.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck, "...well, you might not have accepted a deal with my family, but I figured I could share what I already learned. It was your water, after all, and we're still friends, right?"

His posture tensed on those last few words, and they sounded uncertain. Simon's eyes wandered towards the floor, and he once again seemed unwilling to look at me.

I reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on Simon's shoulder. When he finally raised his head and looked at me, I smiled and said, "Of course we are friends, Simon. And thank you."

Simon's shoulders relaxed, and he nodded a few times as he let out a breath. I examined him for another second before continuing, "Now, I have an idea I wanted to run by you before I go. Tell me, what do you know about enchantments with varying functionality?"

----

Master Laila stared at me over a small mountain of iron bars. Dozens covered her desk, each marred in their own way. Some had deep cracks and fissures. Others showed water-like ripples, with one in particular torn as if someone had gripped both ends and pulled.

Each bar was a mark of my continued failures at reinforcement. Master Laila had jumped back into our private training sessions, though I could not tell if she was stubborn, charitable, curious, or all three. I knew she had ideas and approaches that might yield success, but one by one, every attempt failed.

Simply put, I could not reinforce iron alloy no matter what we tried or how much work I put into it. Even steel cracked. Sure, it took longer, but it broke all the same.

The master sighed as she reached over and plucked the topmost bar from the pile, turning it over in her hands as she examined me. Finally, she spoke.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"I've never run from setbacks," Master Laila said, "Any good forger will tell you it takes a dozen failures for every success. Each of us has ground away for months trying to perfect a new skill. But I'm also not one to ignore hard facts, though I don't like it."

"I will never be a forgemaster," I said, filling in the obvious. Best not to drag it out.

"No," Master Laila shook her head, "At least, I doubt it. Creation and parts of alteration are possible, but as far as I can tell, reinforcement is hopeless. You can make and shape mana constructs and probably even get very good at that. But the real bulk of forging? Taking raw material and turning it into something extraordinary? If it's not impossible, it's close to it."

"Is..." I considered what to say, knowing that the wrong word might come across as insulting, "Is there nothing I can do? You once told me there were possibilities to my mana."

"I thought there were, but that was when I thought Aether was conducive forging rather than antithetical to it," Laila sighed and shook her head, "My theory was the strength of your mana might allow it to reinforce a material more than other elements. But the opposite seems true. It's almost as if your mana breaks down materials instead."

I forced down the frustration threatening to rear its head and focused on the most important thing, "What is my next step, then? Finals exams are approaching, and if I cannot perform a fundamental forging skill, then..."

Master Laila smiled, "We can modify your exam. You'll still need to pass the theoretical portions, and I'll expect more on the other practical portions, but I'll allow you to pass without demonstrating reinforcement."

That was a show of mercy I had not expected. Plenty of masters would fail me on principle, seeing my inability to perform an essential piece of magic as unacceptable and undeserving of continuing my formal training. I must not have hid my surprise well because Master Laila's smile took on a pitying edge.

I could not tell if I found it comforting or irritating. Eventually, I settled on both.

"Some masters might punish you," Laila said, "I never understood that. I'm a teacher, and my job is to turn you into as good a mage as possible. I won't cut your training short for something you can't control."

I bowed my head, "Thank you, Master Laila."

When I straightened, Laila nodded, "For what it's worth, I think you would've been an excellent forger. And if you ever want some advice or someone to bounce ideas off of, you're more than welcome."

I thanked her again and took my leave. As I walked back through the halls, I could not shake a thought that buzzed in my head.

Aether could bind with water and form a stable, natural elixir. It could strengthen a living thing, though it caused horrible side effects. I had it flowing through my body, but I still lived. Reinforcement had to be possible. The fault lay either in my skills or in the teachings of the Academy.

The question was whether or not solving this problem was worth my time.

I had set a tentative ten-year time limit to surpass my original self. Already, the first of those ten was gone, wasted away on poor, fumbling attempts at magic. What did I have to show for all my efforts and training? I had a few half-finished spells, mediocre at best magical and martial skills for my age, a moderately athletic body, and a core full of destructive mana that still fell short of the best students in my year.

The solution seemed obvious. Work later, train harder, study longer, and experiment as much as possible. I could spring for better potions to keep my body and mind in perfect condition or speed my magical development. Maybe there were magical circles or arrays to bolster Aether density within a short range.

Beyond that, was class attendance really mandatory? I could skip a lesson here and there, using that time to fit more practice into my day. Whenever I could not, I would hone my shrouds or senses. Both had gone far enough that I could practice with only half my attention.

Dinner with my friends would need to become a luxury, rather than an everyday occurance. Spending time with Amelia might be similar, though I was loathe to abandon those meetings entirely. But maybe that was what I needed to do. Maybe the cost of long-term happiness was short-term misery.

Or that was what I told myself as I prepared for another long, sleepless night of studying. After all, I was already decent with forging. What kind of mage would I be if I left that stone unturned?

---

It took me a few hours to stumble onto a possible way forward.

Permanency.

Every mana construct degraded based on stability. Better mages had more stable creations, which took longer to break down. The best forgers achieved permanency, a state where their magic was so well-done that it appeared not to degrade at all.

The Invictus was the most famous example, but it was just one of many. And those examples gave me an idea.

For months, I had agonized over the question of materials. Aether was too destructive even for enchantments, and any creation ate into my funds. It was a problem without an easy solution, and I had worried the only option was purchasing costly and durable materials.

That, in turn, led me to regard reinforcement as crucial. It was still a skill that I wanted to perfect, if only to deepen my understanding of Aether and its properties. But maybe I was looking at it the wrong way.

I had planned to buy and improve the necessary materials, but what if I made them instead? What if I mastered creation to such an extent that I could make permanent Aether constructs?

The greatest flaw with Aether was its corrosive, destructive nature. But would that remain true if I used a material made of the energy itself? Would it degrade at that same pace? Would it slow down the process?

I had no idea, and there seemed no precedent in my readings. It might not even be possible, but it seemed worth exploring. If I was right, it would solve a problem that had hung over my burgeoning attempts at enchantment and crafting.

And if I was wrong, well, nothing ventured, as the saying went.