I'm willing to admit that it's maybe just a little mean of me to seriously consider flipping Orelio out of yet another bed simply because I could.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully aside from the servants seeming to pull out all the stops to arrange a splendid dinner in honor of the duchess' sister visiting. Among all the fruits, sauces, and desserts that were completely alien to me, I was happy to find simple roast beef. It made me think that if the main staple meats were roughly the same in this world I could try talking the chefs into letting me experiment with bringing some modern day cuisine to Voset.

Still, trying to settle in to the luxurious accommodations provided by our gracious host was… difficult. Ever since coming to this world my living arrangements have been a back alley with nothing but boxes to sleep on and a tent, though at least the tent had a cot. Even before that, I can't remember the last time I slept somewhere that felt safe. Cheap motels had been the standard.

Orelio certainly didn't have any difficulty adapting. I swear, give him a bed and he's out faster than you can blink. Now the morning after, he still sleeping like he's been in a coma for the past few months.

Sighing, I resist my inner demons and leave the beastkin to his rest. Putting my new clothes on I'm reminded I should get myself some new travel garments at the next opportunity. Basically all my clothes so far have been secondhand or given. I've never had an eye for fashion but still, it should be interesting to see what trends there are in a fantasy world.

Leaving the room, I see the trio of dwarves leaving their room as well. All the way at the end of the hall. Five doors down. I try to ignore them as I make my way back to the dining hall. Even with the distance between our rooms I had still been able to hear their… carousal.

Andora is already at the table, leisurely chatting with Albatos over breakfast. Vanderburst busies himself getting a plate for me as I take a seat. The husband and wife trio enter behind me, taking seats of their own.

Listening in on the conversation between Albatos and the duchess I have trouble holding in a smirk. Gifted in magic though he may be, the elf's abhorrent social skills tend to surface every time he talks to anybody besides Zeph.

I get to hear one last vain compliment to the duchess' beauty before Morvin arrives, taking a seat somewhat close to me. At the arrival of the dwarf Albatos seems to lose his poorly constructed commendation of Andora's hair.

Taking the opportunity of the newfound silence, I ask Andora, "Would you mind if I asked something? I thought this would be a good chance to learn more about your culture, as some things still seem a bit strange to me."

Andora nods, seeming equally glad of the opportunity to get away from Albatos' crude attempts at flattery, "I'll answer to the best of my ability."

"Are dwarven cities usually constructed like Voset? It's a fascinating feat of architecture, stacking a city in layers."

She shakes her head, "No, Voset is unique. The terrain of the jungle makes expanding the walls an arduous task far less rewarding than the labor costs would justify."

"I've heard Voset is a leading producer of oricite, does it get mined as the city expands downward?"

She laughs at that, "No, level 15 is the lowest stratum. The mines are located on levels 11 through 13 and expand outwards, under the roots of the great trees. That seems to be where the oricite is found in the greatest quantities, so there's no need for the city to expand deeper. The first seven levels are already more than enough to support the population."

So the uppermost outer ring was level 1, and this mansion was located in the center of level 4.

"How do you deal with fire or such things on the lower levels?" I ask.

"There are primary ventilation shafts where all furnaces and any open flame must be somehow connected to in the lower strata. You bring up one of the big issues in a layered city structure. We spend more on our fire prevention force than we do on the entirety of the guard regiment."

"Really?"

She nods, "Well to be effective in an environment as flammable as ours, the entire force consists of mages." She sighs, "And let me tell you, they don't come cheap."

That does make a good degree of sense. Mages would be exceptional at firefighting, considering they can materialize water out of thin air. If you don't have to invest the mana to keep it cemented in reality you could put out a fire then let it dissipate back into nothing, which I'm sure would also prevent the surrounding wood from rotting.

"What other kinds of challenges does a stacked structure present?"

She scoffs, "Oh, what else indeed? Waste management, multilevel security, and support pillar maintenance are just a few of the issues consuming exorbitant funding. I swear, if it wasn't for the strength of our economy this place would have fallen long ago."

Support pillars, huh? Suppose you would need a fair few of those to keep the city from caving in on itself.

"There was something else I was itching to ask too, about something you said yesterday. This one is a lot more… cultural."

She sensed the hesitation and my voice and prodded me, "Go on. Being inquisitive is rarely a sin."

"You said the usual punishment for a dwarf who chooses to sail the sea for a living is slavery. I was curious as to why that would be the specific punishment instead of imprisonment."

She thinks the question over, seeming to choose the wording of her response carefully, "Though it is outlawed, it's not as though nobody sympathizes with the offending party. There would certainly be a level of irony in clasping irons on someone who had tried to spread their wings. The enslavement policy was something of a compromise. In truth, it can hardly even be called enslavement."

She sighs before continuing, "The exact specifications of that contract are simply that the charged must live out the rest of their life within the Mountain Home and find some form of employment. Outside of that, they remain free to live how they see fit."

I tilt my head, "That's extraordinarily lenient for how anal you seem to be about the enforcement of that law. Please excuse my language."

She chuckles, "Indeed. Though it's considered a serious offense, as long as the offending party doesn't cause any real trouble it would hardly be fitting to bring down the full force of the law. So long as they cannot leave the Mountain Home then the root of the issue is solved, and if they can again become a functioning member of society then all the better for our nation."

I'm reminded of just how incredibly versatile contracts are in this world. A punishment such as that would never have been feasible in my old world, as nothing would stop such criminals from simply leaving. Soulbound contracts were a serious force to be reckoned with.

"Bit too easy on them if you ask me," Annora says from between her husbands. Morvin stares at his food as though he were searching for gold within the dish.

"Too bad you gave up any say in the matter," Andora replies. Annora makes no further comment.

"Pardon the interruption," Albatos says, cutting into the conversation, "Would you have a space that we could use to train?"

Andora eyes Vanderburst before replying, "Of course, there's a couple practice rooms below the manor you can use."

"Below?" I ask, confused.

"Hm? Did you think this level was the only one my property extended to?" She gives me a smirk, "Having the area beneath be just like any other area of the city would pose quite a security risk, don't you think?"

"I hadn't thought of that," I admit, a bit embarrassed of such an obvious oversight.

Andora sets down her utensils, "Unfortunately, I must end our little chat here. I have business to attend to today, so if you'll excuse me."

Once Andora has left the room Albatos turns to me, "Where's our spearman?"

"Still sleeping I'd bet."

"Does that damn kid not know how to do anything else? Go wake him, the sooner we start the better."

The clatter of china announces Morvin's loss of consciousness. It strikes me as quite sad that nobody even seems to be bothered by it anymore. Albatos pointedly ignores it and the lovebirds hardly seem to notice.

I suppose expecting sympathy from mercenaries is an exercise in naivety.

Regardless, the dwarf's departure from consciousness signaled the start of the countdown. The fainting spells seem to last for a predictable length of time, after which was followed by several hours of 'free time.' This was the period we decided would be our hours of investigation.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I leave the dwarf to the servants and head back to the room Orelio and I inhabited. We also decided that outside our hours of investigation it would be prudent to maintain minimal contact. The less the others see us interact, the less questions arise. It would also be a pain in the ass if Albatos started bitching.

Back in my room, I'm once again tempted by the devil on my shoulder.

Sorry Orelio, you just make it too damn easy.

And with minimal effort the beastkin is sent sprawling to the floor.

***

The area of the stratum below the surface of the administrative district was like a maze of corridors that connected to seemingly random spaces. Vanderburst navigated that wooden labyrinth like it was the back of his hand.

Our destination was similar to a gymnasium, with polished wooden floorboards with lines drawn across to indicate I knew not what. We were introduced to a storage room on the side with mock weapons, armor, and dummies.

"Will you require anything else?" Vanderburst asks after finishing his tour.

"Not for today, but for tomorrow onwards we'll likely require a healer."

Yeah, I figured this is where he intends to torture me.

We had already had several discussions on the road about how we should draw out my latent blessing. We were able to agree that the singular instance of its activation was likely due to the severity of the situation. That left two questions.

First, could it be used manually? The original instance was when I was unconscious, and I have no recollection of it. We agreed that it is paramount that I learn to use it manually while conscious, or it holds very little actual value.

Second, why did it only affect one wound and leave the rest? If it's a heal-all then my legs should have been healed along with the hole in my torso. Albatos' response to this was mostly theory crafting of which I understood very little. He spoke of a balance and how it's entirely possible that the ability only works on wounds that are truly life threatening.

Regardless, we both agreed that experimentation was necessary. While I never asked for this damn blessing, the prospect of a self healing ability is honestly quite exciting. The process of learning how to use said ability, if I even can, however…

"What for?" Vanderburst asks, a concerned look on his face.

"Oh, we tend to get a little rough while training, nothing to be concerned about," Albatos replies, throwing a devious smirk my way. Orelio, though still a little peeved about earlier, casts a sidelong look at me with what looks like a sizable amount of pity.

Vanderburst thinks a moment before replying, "I'll need to request leave from the noble mistress, but I'm proficient in healing arts. Otherwise, I'll be happy to find somebody to accommodate you."

"Great," Albatos says with a pleased nod.

"If that'll be all, I will leave you to it." With a small bow, Vanderburst turns and leaves.

Albatos turns to us, "Alright you two, we're going to start off easy today. By the end of our time in this city, I expect both of you to have mastered the basics of second tier sorcery. We need to go over some fundamental basics before we really get into it. Orelio, you may already know some of this, but you still need to listen to pick up what you don't."

Orelio tips his head, a disinterested look on his face.

"You'll listen properly or you'll be joining Stein in his future exercises," Albatos says through gritted teeth.

Orelio's head snaps up and he puts his palms out appeasingly, "There's no need for that, truly. I'll listen, I'll listen."

"If we're starting at first tier does that mean we're starting with self-projections?" I ask.

"No, we need to start somewhere even more basic than that. I could tell how lost you were when I spoke of balancing before, so we'll start there. I mentioned this on the road, it's also called making bargains with mana."

That did sound somewhat familiar, "How are we supposed to 'bargain' with something that has no thoughts or will?"

"True, it doesn't have any thoughts or will. But that doesn't mean it lacks a sense of wrongness."

"Now you've lost me. You're saying mana, the incorporeal matter that floats around us has, what, a sense of justice?"

"More or less."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Does it not? I'd recommend you remember what mana is."

"Soul particles, right?"

"Indeed. Imagine, if you will, the hundreds of thousands of lives those particles have been a part of. How every thought, feeling, or will affected their souls before they were ground up and spat back out by The Wheel. Do you think those particles retain nothing of their former lives? Tell me, have you ever had dreams that don't seem to be yours, or felt a sense of deja vu so strong you could swear on your life you'd experienced something similar before yet have no memory of?"

Personally, I could only relate to the dream bit, and that was likely due to my unique circumstances. It seems Orelio can relate a bit more judging by the look of consternation on his face.

"One of you seems to get it at least. Regardless, even if you haven't experienced it yourself it's an undeniable fact that our own souls are formed from the fragments of countless others. The memories and feelings of those souls are scattered to the wind, and very very rarely surface as anything other than a half remembered dream. Yet they all share something in common."

Realization dawned on me, "They all lived in the same world, so their expectations of how the world should be remain."

"Exactly. Your wording of it having a sense of justice isn't quite correct, it's much more like it's able to notice when something doesn't quite fit with the world as they imagine it."

"What about magic then? Isn't magic itself a perversion of the natural order?"

"Is it? How long do you think magic has been used? I'd wager you wouldn't have been able to find history books even before The Summoning detailing an age when magic wasn't commonplace. No, magic itself is as much a part of our world as the waves or wind. But you do strike on a principal point, and that's that even when you don't know you're doing it you're bargaining with mana."

"Mana cost."

He gives me an appraising look, "Sometimes I wish your character was as good as your brain."

"Same."

With a souring look, he continues, "Well, you're right nonetheless. Mana cost is proportional to how much a spell distorts reality. In fact, it's been measured across casters that the amount of mana necessary to generate a chunk of physical mass is roughly the same." He snaps his finger, looking beside me, "We're losing our spearman."

"Ugh…" Orelio groans, "I don't get this philosophical stuff. When can I hit stuff?"

"Focus, we're almost there. Now, considering how mana decides how much our spells go against the natural order, how do you suppose we would change the amount of mana required for a spell? Let's say I wanted to make a fireball bigger but keep the mana consumption the same."

I had to think for a minute before responding, "I see, you'd reduce the heat. Balance out the effects."

"Exactly. Projections are a type of spell that usually consume no mana whatsoever. You place the desired effect on the scale and decide on a counter to weigh it against. The projection for my domain is Amp, which triples the effects of every spell cast within the area of my domain. This obviously allows me to use magic much more effectively, but it allows my enemies to do the same. There is balance."

I thought back, "Orelio's projection allows him to build up a combo and increase his speed proportional to the tally, but he loses it when he misses."

"Hey!" Orelio says, upset, "At least let me explain my own special technique!"

"But there really isn't that much of a detriment to that projection, so how does it balance out?" I ask, confused.

"Think that would be best answered by the spearman himself. Orelio, how'd you develop that projection?"

"Hm? I thought it would be cool if it worked, and it did. Dunno what 'balancing' you're talking about."

"You…" Albatos is completely flabbergasted, "You didn't balance it out at all? You just thought it would be cool and made it work?" His face stiffens a bit and he mumbles, "And clearly you weren't listening."

"So, what's the explanation here, teach?" I ask, folding my arms. For as interesting as I find the topic I still can't help myself but try to trip the man up while he's flat footed.

Albatos sighs, rubbing his temples, "Sometimes the perception of the host soul can overrule mana and get a little leeway. Still, for him to actually fully develop a functional projection without a basic understanding of balancing… What a freak."

"Hey!" Orelio says angrily, completely missing the compliment, "There's nothing wrong with my technique! And I have an even better one now too. I got it just this last battle." He crossed his arms, a smug look of triumph on his face.

"Just this last battle? What do you… Oh no, please don't tell me you… arrrgh." Albatos has to turn away and bury his face in his hands to try to process what Orelio's telling him.

Now, I still have barely any idea how to form a projection, but it's pretty easy to tell from our teacher's words that it's something that needs to be developed and honed over time. So for Orelio to go and just acquire one mid-battle most likely points to that.

Albatos had warned us recruits extensively about the dangers of using inspiration as the basis of a spell already, so I completely understood his dismay at Orelio's proud boast.

"So, how does it work?" I ask, genuinely curious how a projection created through inspiration turned out.

"Great! I wasn't sure what would happen, but it turned out like an amped up version of my old technique! Except I get almost max benefits from the get-go so I can pummel my opponent into the ground no problem!"

"Uh-huh. And what's the trade off?" I ask dubiously.

Orelio clams up and scratches his chin, "Oh, you know. It, uh, hurts a little when I miss."

"The most common trade off for self-projected inspiration is death, or extreme bodily damage at the very least." Albatos says with an exasperated voice, "We should count the fact that our spearman is still in one piece as a small miracle. Tell me, have you tweaked it at all?"

"Hm? No, though I guess I could lower the initial speed to reduce the, uh, damage it does to me."

"You do that. You better hope it kills you if you use it at full throttle, because if I find out you used it while still under our employ I'll strangle you." Albatos says with a murderous look in his eye.

"So what other kinds of self-projection are there?" I ask, trying to divert the conversation.

With a sigh, Albatos says, "Generally self-projection comes in the form of a physical enhancement. The detriments you can weigh against it aren't limited to something that applies to your body though, so there's a bit more variety in counter effects."

"The guy I fought got stronger the more blood he had on him," Orelio says with a finger on his chin.

"Yeah, that's a good example." He sighs again, "I just can't believe you… You know what, we're moving on. I think we've done enough talking. Next, we'll practice applying the idea of balancing to basic spells. Being able to do that much is usually needed to even have a chance at developing a projection."

We got to work, experimenting with different kinds of non-fire oriented spells. The more we worked with magic the more amazed I became with how much of a miracle it was that Orelio managed to make it to the rank of sorcerer at all.