Term break started the next day, and Jeb realized that, despite the fact that he could go home whenever he wanted, it had been more than a full term since he had last seen his family. Chiding himself, he started dancing. His family was surprised to see him again, though the excitement was far more muted than before. This visit was simply a young man coming home for a break, and his family didn’t reveal any other dark secrets to him. Returning to the Academy a few days before the term break ended, Jeb felt lighter still.
The next term was somehow far more difficult. He had the same two obligations: working on his Ritual and attending interesting lectures. However, he had gotten to a point in the Ritual that he could only work on it for a few hours every day. It was simply too draining for him to keep working from waking to sleeping.
And so, after restocking the Emporium, Jeb found himself at a crossroads. His work removing Glyphs from his Status made him realize that, in the rush to learn new Magics, he had more or less completely left behind the Magics he learned on the farm. A few weeks of practice later, Jeb felt at least passingly comfortable with free form Glyph work, though he knew that he was still far too slow in constructing them to pass for a Glyph Mage. Looking slightly down his Status, Jeb was reminded of his work on the day he arrived in the Academy: the Ephemeral Song the Bard had tried to teach him. After a few days spent trying and failing to make any further progress, Jeb started prioritizing attending Bardic seminars.
Thanks to the few that he had gone to the previous term, Jeb wasn’t completely lost when speakers referred to extant works or theories. Much like his coursework in Bardic Magic, a significant portion of the talks were focused not on the Magic, but on the performance or construction of instruments. As interesting as Jeb found the talks on tuning theory, he felt guilty spending time working through questions that he had about it. Whether it was simply the dedicated practice, or whether attending all the seminars made a difference, Jeb did slowly start to make progress on the Ephemeral Song.
As the term ended, Jeb could reliably create an apple that fooled any three of his non Magical senses. The day he realized that he was only treating the Ephemeral Song with his mundane senses, Jeb decided to look with his Magical sight. It took a few attempts, but when he finally managed to look at the apple with Magical vision, Jeb saw it blazing.
Over the next term break, Jeb spent his time hopping between the farm and the Academy, trying his hardest to start to fool his own Magical senses with the Ephemeral Song. When the next term began, he gave up on the goal, at least until he had learned the rest of the Song. To his surprise, he was almost effortlessly able to sing a completely accurate apple into being. As far as he could, see, feel, smell, taste, or hear, he bit into a completely real apple. Jeb let the Song spin away before the chunk of apple could go down his throat. He wasn’t entirely sure what consuming an illusion would do, but he could not imagine that it would be anything good.
Checking his Status, however, Jeb was more than a little surprised to see that the Song did not appear. When he was able to produce other illusions, though, he started to assume that the Song might simply not be one that the System recognized, for one reason or another. Having finished the last assignment that the Bard had given him, Jeb found himself momentarily lost. He realized that he had just severed one more tether to his life before the Academy, and he had done it completely thoughtlessly.
After a few minutes of thought, Jeb managed to corral his emotions. No, he had not thought about the fact that learning the Song would mean that his work with the Bard was officially in the past. However, even if he had thought about it, he would have acted the exact same way. Satisfied with the logic, Jeb made his way to the Bardic Seminar. It had an interesting title, “Innovations in Early Bardic Pedagogy.”
The speaker was someone Jeb hadn’t seen speak before, and he wondered if it was a mislabeled Thesis Defense. The energy in the room certainly did not match any Defense Jeb had attended, though. It almost felt as though there was an undercurrent of violence and repressed rage as the Professors watched the speaker take the stage. He looked familiar, though Jeb couldn’t quite place him.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
As the speaker pulled out a lute, Jeb began to think that he might be related to the Bard he knew in his hometown. When he started to speak, however, Jeb was still completely floored.
“As many of you know, my thesis work was based around the claim that the pedagogy for creating Bards is fundamentally flawed. After an,” he rolled his eyes, “agreement between the department and myself, I went off to the rural parts of our great Republic to test my theory. The nature of the wager was not public knowledge when I left, and I am unsure if it is now.”
The Bard took a deep breath, “I was told that a position as Professor would be available to me if, and only if, I was able to create a Bard with my pedagogy. I traveled to Humdrumville, a small farming community located,” he strummed his lute, and an image of the Republic appeared, before zooming in around Jeb’s hometown, “approximately here. Once there, I informed the local authorities that I was interested in creating a Bard. As per the agreement, I made it very clear that I was testing an as-yet unproven pedagogy. Within a few months, a promising pupil presented himself.”
Jeb felt his face flush. He really hoped that the Bard was not about to show an image of him. Thankfully, the Bard seemed content to have the single image of the Republic be his primary visual aid during the talk.
The pedagogy the Bard described was exactly what Jeb remembered. It was more than slightly strange to understand the reasons behind everything the Bard had instructed Jeb to do. It was even stranger as Jeb started going through his memories of Bardic courses at the Academy, seeing the moments of miscommunications in a new light. His Instructor had been shocked that Jeb was Bound to his lute, because that was the primary way that the Bard’s pedagogy differed from the Academy’s.
“Within a few months, the student had unlocked Bardic Magic as a Skill,” the Bard continued, “and I submitted that as evidence for the success of the program.” He coughed slightly, and a large tome appeared in front of him, which he opened. “The august Professors of the Academy, however, pointed out that there was precedent for First Tier Classholders with Bardic Magic as a Locked Skill not to be offered Bard as a Second Tier Class.” He read the precedent, voice suddenly losing all of its color and warmth. Jeb found himself almost dozing off when the book slammed shut and disappeared.
“And so, my young pupil made it to the Academy without me.” Jeb was grateful that the Bard elided over the exact reasons why he had gone to the Academy.
“The list of available Second Tier Classes he was offered was recorded, and Bard was, indeed, among them. Once again, I submitted that as evidence for the success of the program.”
His eyes roamed the crowed, locking in on Jeb. The Bard gave an apologetic grimace and continued, “the Professors, however, pointed out that this student had not been accepted into the College of Music, and had been instead placed into the Remedial College.”
Muttering broke out at that. A significant portion of the room turned to Jeb, who only now realized how well known he was in the Academy. The Bard, whose name refused to stick in Jeb’s head for some reason, ambled around the stage, waiting for the conversations to die out.
“I had resigned myself to waiting as long as it took for my former pupil to graduate from the Academy. After all, what is a few years or a decade to one dreaming of a Professorship?” He eyed the panel of Professors, who Jeb only now realized were sitting in a row together.
“Imagine my surprise when just a few terms later, the student graduated from the Academy. I did not, for some reason, hear about this development from the College of Music. I have to imagine that the letter was lost somewhere in transit. After all, it is more than slightly difficult to send a message between the Capital and Humdrumville.”
He looked at Jeb as though asking permission, and Jeb nodded, unsure what permission the Bard would need.
“Jeb, as many of you know, graduated on merit of producing a functional multi-use teleportation Ritual.” There were a few shocked cries, though most of the crowd nodded as though they already knew that.
The Bard smiled, “and for those who have yet to connect the pieces, Jeb was my pupil. He informed his family on one of his visits back, and word spread quickly. After all, it is not every day that a local boy graduates from the Academy, especially not in almost record time. I, of course, returned to the Capital in all haste in order to present my findings.”
The Bard snapped his fingers, and a flashing sign appeared behind him. It had three simple words: “I was right.”
“Any questions?”