The heavy Yaunz showers trickle away into Bach as my first two weeks are spent either in class, the Athenary, or bed. I am racing to understand my lectures as we hurtle past the basics into usage equations for manifesting. General education affords me knowledge that makes the former more straightforward to achieve than the latter. Manifesting magic— it should happen, yet it hasn’t. Or it has, and they don't understand how it works. The only saving grace is the overlapping assignments I get from different classes. On the first day of Bach, I run into Jer on the road leading to the Athenary.

“There you are, Vesh. Buried in a hole somewhere, to be sure, yet here you are,” Jer greets.

“Welcome to my hole, paper instead of dirt.”

“I'm digging you out, and we're getting drinks tonight. Invite anyone you like. We are all meeting up at Lisen’s tavern.”

“I do not know; I have a lot of studying to do…” I consider.

“I don’t want to hear it. You will be coming, you will enjoy yourself, and you will be drunk by the end of tonight.”

“Alright, you've convinced me one night isn't going to hurt anyone.”

“That’s the stuff; see you there at sundown.” He laughs, slapping my back.

In the Athenary, I find Shannai reading a book on conceptual nature’s categorizing magic. She is ankle-deep, eyes flying over the pages, her right hand darting out notes as she reads. I approach with hesitation, announcing my presence.

“Hello. I might break something working so hard,” I jest, stepping up to a chair across from Shannai.

“Oh. Vesh’dan. I didn't notice you there.” She lies, not slowing.

“I've heard I'm not very noticeable, and it's one of my more endearing traits. You can call me Vesh.”

“Okay, Vesh. I bet the nobility will surely like to notice you less.” She notes.

“Ouch. Those are such painfully true words. With comments like that, maybe I should not invite you.”

“Invite me?” She queries, slowing, if only slightly.

“Well, a couple of friends and I plan on getting drinks later tonight. I am thinking of inviting you. That was until you proved your character. Candid demeanors make for poor drinking companions,” I argue.

“Is that pile of bulging muscle going to be there?”

“Jer? He just invited me, so probably.”

“Well, I can make time for you.”

“Watch it with him, Shannai; he's a heartbreaker,” I warn.

“Appreciated, but I can handle myself.”

After getting Shannai’s okay and informing her of the details, I grab some books on the saturation points for different materials. Then, there will be a book on the internal aspect of elemental magic and one on the structure of magic. Stopping at the counter, I hand over my books.

“Got through those rather quickly,” the new librarian comments.

“Not much time for anything else.”

“That may be foolish nonchalance, but I’ve seen you here. I know how much you like learning new things.”

“I don’t believe we have officially met; I am Vesh’dan,” I introduce myself.

“Call me Kury. I am the head librarian here.”

“Working at the front desk?”

“Only to meet the talk of the citadel,” they mislead.

“It is nice to meet you, Kury. Hopefully, we will see each other again,” I lie.

“I am sure we will.”

After grabbing everything, I meet the death mage at his behest. I find him in a small workshop against the back wall of the eastern campus gardens. Mage Crucus needed clarification on the invite and a specified time. Stepping inside the dark room, a cluster of mechanisms hanging from the ceiling strikes me. Brushing them aside, I reveal a shack clogged with tools, instruments, and random scraps of materials. I call out, letting him know I am there, too afraid I’ll step on something important.

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“Oh. There you are, come come.” Mage Crucus stirs, popping open a curtain revealing the back room and waving.

“I will try,” I offer, tipping my feet toe first to avoid the litter on the floor, assisted by the light from the back room.

The curtain leads into a smaller room, and hot air blisters my skin as I enter. The room is tidy, with tools in place. Its heat comes from a forge burning with a goldish-blue light. The forge and the entire back wall are constructed of black brick, making me guess Sanctum built the forge before the shack.

“So, have you decided to let me assist you?” I begin.

He sat in a chair, staring into the flame of the forge. “Yes. I have; this project… I need an extra hand. I took some persuading, but this solved a large problem. I must stress how little you can learn about this practice.”

“I assumed as much, but I am open to learning anything you can teach me. I will try not to press, but I am unsure which questions would be inappropriate, so I must defer to you. So what can I learn from this project?”

“Yes… I do understand that yearning. I really do, but that is how you should be about it, and it bodes well for you. As for the project, your role will be simple. My peers and I have all received a piece with instructions. Compartmentalization is a common practice in this line of work.”

“Hmm... When you figure out how your piece works, do you still have a clue about the whole picture?” I sum.

“Yes. But I received the best parts, you see.”

“Which are?” I slip in, hoping to get more.

“That would be another thing you cannot see.”

“It is interesting. I apologize.” I offer after a moment.

“Well enough.”

“And what would compensation look like if I was useful?”

“You see, sadly, you will be useless to me now. If you wish to give this a chance, I promise to be equitable with the payment for any help. So what do you say? Still on board?” Crucus asks.

If I produce usable work, I will leave with something for the effort. I know a little about amalgamations, but what little I know boast only of their value. Being able to produce a glow gem would solve many of my problems, but it would also create more. I can’t miss this chance.

“I am,” I affirm after considering.

“Here then, read this, and return to me next week. By then, you’ll be of some use.” He instructs, throwing a book over his head.

The cover is a used dark wood that reads: An Arficers’ Amalgamation‘s volume one. Running my hand down the spine, I feel worn wood. I lightly open it to the table of contents, sections on principle theory and practical application—titles promising knowledge on rune formations, infusion techniques, and material selection. I secure the book in my pack before returning my attention to Mage Crucus.

“May I ask you a question?” I venture.

“We will see if I can answer.”

“Why have there been no more death magic initiates?”

“That is tough, though propriety dictates I keep it simple. It has the power to destroy everything. It is Destructions’ hand in this world.” They warn, refusing the intent of my question.

“I will be careful, Mage; thank you,” I thank him before readying my papers.

“One more thing: Consider our scheduled class time a free hour. For now, the work you do on this will be educational enough. I can answer any other questions. And visit Castillio; she pesters me about you. Well, three things then.” He dismisses, petering off at the end.

Re-shouldering my pack, I embark on the next errand. I can’t believe that I might be able to make amalgamations. They are icons of wealth. Since arriving at the citadel, I have frequently seen carriages and glow gems. If I could make these things, I could make an absurd amount of money—more than enough to afford the next few years.

And Mage Crucus. I had not compelled his attention even for a second. I first considered it akin to everyone else's classism, but instead, it is a specific delineation. It is as if he wishes not to recognize my existence fully. He isn't that bad, though. There is something there that can mutate into a rapport.

Halfway into the Sanctum lobby is a desk with a person attending it. I have yet to interact with the attendant. After a pause, I greet them politely, notifying them of the pauper's appointment with the highest high Mage. They oblige, asking me to wait at one of the benches before pressing what I now know to be a rune on the desk. Fifty glow gems embed themselves in the wall behind the desk, and one will occasionally blink. Once the glow gem in the top right is lit briefly with a blue color, the person waves me through the fancy door behind them.

I walk down the black hallway until I reach another door; a gem set above gleams blue when I touch the handle. I enter a marble athenary with bookshelves four times as tall as me. I openly stare without consideration.

“I can let you borrow some if you’d like,” High Mage Castillo offers.

“Oh.” I emerge, looking first at the black marble desk and then the black-robed figure.

“I will not be able to loan out many, though there are a few I will be able to give you.”

“I will take them,” I call her bluff, looking around reverently.

“I will gather them while you tell me what brings you here.” She commands, blowing my assumption.

“I meant to come sooner, but I have been busy. I also worried it might be an imposition.” I delay.

“No imposition at all, young one. Please tell me how things are going.”

“Yes.” I obey, sitting. “Things have been going well. I enjoy all of my classes. I did have a couple of questions, though.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, firstly, I am wondering which courses I will take going forward?”

“We’ve decided to leave that up to you. Death magic is likely the only choice that is unlikely to lead far. However, if you wish to pursue that field of study, I will do my best to endorse you.”

“Yeah? And the requirements?”

“It is not that simple. We can not refuse to instruct you on your affinities as long as we can facilitate it once you qualify. Even if you received the certification, you would have no privileges to practice without a permit; those are limited.”

"And I wouldn't receive one of those?"

“Correct.”

After the message sinks in, I reply, “That is understandable. How should I approach telling people of my condition?”

“Plenty know parts, if not all, of the story. I will advise skepticism in your dealings.”

“Yes, something to keep in mind. I am also curious why I have only six magic classes when there are eight types of magic?”

"That is something I planned on discussing with you. You are the first Mage in our records to possess the ability to manipulate time, so no luck there. Spatial magic is another story; it is a rare ability but can occur. Such a mage journeys from the east for another student. He is delayed but should be arriving near the end of Bach to begin a course for both of you."

“Oh? It will be interesting to meet this initiate.”

“You have; she shares your room,” High Mage Casillio informs me with a grin.

“You don’t say, here I am considering myself perceptive.”

“Perceiving was your first mistake. Is there anything else?” She asks.

“One last thing. Why do this all for me? I don’t think I impressed you enough to validate all this help.”

“Hmm…” She forestalls with a searching squint. “I would like to be blunt. But it's truly a confluence of events that led me to a decision that will undoubtedly ruin me. At the time, I could not watch this world crush another dream, especially not you, Vesh, child of Valary.”

My face stiffens, my body refuses response, brain-processing. My mother's name. The mother who has not lived in Grev’haim for twenty years, whom I have never met— Questions distract from the thoughts reassembling, sussing through every scrap of repression. I want to know everything, but nothing comes; not a single syllable escapes my lips for hours. This ploy is a trap. It’s bait to get my plans out of me, and then I epitomize the corruptible nature inherent in commoners.

She may attempt to obtain information to control me, yet there must be easier ways. The plan to bring a commoner to the Sanctum could be a constant, and the commoner could be less relevant. If so, I would suspect them of choosing someone with ordinary talents. Unless that is part of it? In that case, my innate magic, or the event that caused it to develop, will have to be a part of the plan. Right? Calm; will rules mind. Focus on what is essential: what do they want?

“What do you want?” I terse, a few moments after the revelation.

“I know this is difficult, you asked, and I have no reason to lie. That said, continue your distrust; it will serve you well here.” She smiles, poorly disguising a weary resignation.

"Thank you, High Mage. I will do my best," I dismiss myself.

“Do not forget your books,” she reminds.

“Yes,” I relent after considering the alternative.