Interlude 3 - Alyse: Vermillion Method
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“Wrong—” Alyse swiped her hand through the air casually, casting a mote of inoffensive, sympathetic magic in Blychert’s direction. However, it was more than enough to put him off balance, given the ostensible severity of his hangover, and he stumbled backward somewhat.
Alyse pursed her lips into a smile, almost proud of her student as he offered her one of the most irritable, downright obstinate scowls she’d ever seen from him. However, he simply took up his stance once again, and grumbled, “What was wrong? I did it exactly like you showed me…”
“Are you calling me a liar?” She tiled her head curiously, toying with him for fun at this point.
Blychert sighed softly, resigning his will to argue, “…No.”
Alyse frowned somewhat.
She was being too hard on him, of course she knew that. But for the life of her, she just couldn’t understand his unabashed persistence. He knew the dangers of the dungeon, she’d beaten it into his skull however many times, and yet he’d gone out of his way to make every mistake imaginable, and to deliberately ignore the things she asked of him when it came to delving.
No intelligence on the second-floor boss? Check. Not going in fully rested or recovered? Check. No suitable healer or supplemental tinctures to cover a wider array of ailments and conditions? Double check! Just because they’d gotten trapped inside, which she was reluctant to admit wasn’t their fault—it wasn’t supposed to be possible at all—it was still foolish to go inside given their inexperience. It was more than foolish, it was irresponsible.
Honestly, what were they all thinking?
Alyse cast a scrutinizing glance across the backyard to where Xander was leaning up against the house, watching Bly take his lesson with a look of deep curiosity etched across his brow. That boy was a handful too much for her liking. But… he had gotten Bly to come out of his shell in recent weeks. She supposed she should ought to be grateful for that, but it was hard to do when nearly all of them were wounded to some degree or another after their latest "triumph" in the dungeon.
Bartolo was going to kill her when he found out about this, there was simply no denying it.
“Again, then.” Alyse instructed, taking several steps towards Blychert as she recommitted herself to the task at hand. She nudged his back so that he made himself stand straighter, and added, “You want to be flashy like your wizard friend? Then you need to master the fundamental techniques of advanced spellcasting first. Otherwise, Xander here will have to peel you off the ground again, after you've gone and only cast a single instance of Wall of Ice.”
“What? You can’t be serious! That’s not even how it went—”
“Focus on your breathing.” Alyse flicked Bly softly on the back of the head, and he immediately dropped his argument to concentrate. “Channeling mana isn’t about volume, it’s about pressure. Draw as much mana as you want, if the channel is too wide then your flow will meander, and you'll find yourself wasting energy. My guess is that you drew as much mana into your aura as was physically possible down in that dungeon, which is why you ended up on the floor.”
Blychert grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t seem to deny the accusation.
Stubborn, but smart enough to realize when you're in the wrong, however much you hate it. Alyse amused herself to the thought with a small grin. You really are your father’s son.
“Hey-hey!” Someone shouted, and she recognized the voice immediately as that of the scruffy, mischievous wizard’s, “Looking good, kid!”
Alyse furrowed her brow, cocking her head to the side as the rest of the members of Bold Arrow came into view. They walked around the side of the house and joined Xander in watching her torment Bly under the sunlight of a cloud-dappled blue sky above.
“Concentrate the channel into as fine a point as you can, and you’ll build pressure in your flow.” Alyse said, but offered the others a small wave of her hand as she spoke. Turning, she added, “This is much better for advanced offensive spells, given their proclivity to soak up any amount of mana, regardless of requirements. Understood?”
“…Got it.” Bly replied, his cheeks slightly flushed with heat as he adjusted his feet to get better hold of his mana flow. Breathing in deeply, and out again, he closed his eyes and focused. If Bly was affected at all by the latest distraction, then it wasn’t showing in the least.
Good, he remembers that external forces play a much larger role in mana channeling than we might otherwise prefer. Alyse inspected him closely, Distractions at his age might as well be their own form of currency. Footwork looks good, posture is decent now, and breathing… that’s it, very good Bly.
“When you’re ready, and only when you’re ready, I want to see your aura at full capacity.” Alyse continued, bracing herself for what was to come, “I want maximum channeling from you.”
Without needing any more encouragement than that, Alyse felt the immediate impact of his aura as it expanded rapidly. The invisible wall of force—of magical energy—hit her full on, and she didn’t even extend her own aura to negate it. After all, she needed to feel it, in order to properly critique it.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Incredible. Alyse closed her eyes, letting herself absorb every lick of the aura as she worked to discern its power. It was strong—so much stronger than she could have ever hoped for in a spellcaster of his age. With an aura like that, and with a little more persistence, he’d be engaging advanced magic with ease in no time at all.
Suddenly, Alyse felt the lousy weight of hypocrisy fall over her. Was he so persistent because she pushed him to be? Despite her best efforts not to? Was she to blame to for what happened in the dungeon? Or was this simply his nature?
She groaned, supposing she had to be content with whichever for now, and said, “Alright, rein it back in—slowly, please. I think you’ve suffered enough for one morning.”
“Really?” Bly’s face lit up, as if she’d just given him the freedom to do whatever he pleased, or had told him that he’d never have to eat her cooking again.
“Really…” Alyse shook her head with a smile. Tossing her head in the direction of the house, she added, “Go on, they’re waiting for you. And while you’re out, if you could please grab me some—”
“Sealing wax.” Bly interjected, already rushing past her towards where the others waited for him, “I'm on it. And don’t worry, teacher. It’s on me this time.”
“Is that so?” Alyse mumbled with an amused grin. She folded her hands over her arms thereafter, now well and truly alone behind the house, and looked up towards the sky. The shadow of a bird passed in front of the sun, and she murmured belatedly, as she tugged on the ends of her heavy winter coat, “Well then, I'll leave the rest to you."
***
The house was filled by a familiar silence as Alyse dragged herself out of the bath and into her bedroom. She dressed sparsely, a long tunic and some socks, and thrust the window curtains open so that natural light could wash over the entire room. Her long, wavy red hair caught in the sunshine, turning a shade of fiery orange as she took up a seat at her scrying table. Leaning back, she caressed the little cactus plant sitting on the windowsill and channeled a modicum of magic into it—just enough to check its livelihood. Satisfied, she turned her attention to other matters.
The trouble with Blychert was that he was becoming far too inquisitive for his own good, which meant that she had to work equally as hard to keep him at arm’s length, always. However, that was growing more and more difficult to sustain, especially when her wildest idea, that he was somehow one of the missing pieces in a puzzle she had yet to fully realize, continued to haunt her.
But why else would she have divined him that day? It wasn’t a coincidence that brought her to Bartolo’s doorstep in the days leading up to his selection day, and it certainly wasn’t her remembering anything about him.
Alyse’s hand edged the surface of the dark, scrying table for a moment, deep in thought. Soft ripples of energy coursed through the table, as if encouraged by her touch, as she sat there pondering to herself.
Blychert’s ability to transmute experience into mana was simply unimaginable. And yet, it was now the marker she needed to present her findings. It had to be a clear indication that the classless could evolve, that Dark Raven could in fact affect change in their world. Didn't it? There were no signs in the Codex of such permutations, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there—weren't hiding beneath layer upon layer of buried information.
She’d made up her mind, Bly was living proof of that change.
The only question was, could he be an asset? Would he even want to be? Or was he destined to be the albatross in all her years of diligent work?
“You’ve come a long way, kiddo.” Alyse murmured to herself, gently reaching out across her scrying table to one of the wards she held over Kelvalder; it was a mere drop of mana that she expended, and yet it told her everything she needed to know, just to be sure that there were no unwanted guests within its perimeter.
A caravan of traders was in town, and who knew what strange things they had brought with them. It was better to be safe than sorry, and it was Bold Arrow’s last day in town anyway. Bly deserved to enjoy their company for one last time.
“I wish you were here to see him, Garin.” She smiled, feeling the tendril of energy in the heart of Kelvalder that represented Blychert’s subtly masked aura, “He’s a handful, just like you. Although, he’s much smarter than his father ever was. Well, perhaps you’ll be able to see for yourself, one day.”
In a small flash, the energy across the scrying table spiraled into itself, and her message was sent across the ethereal boundaries of time and space in an instant. If Garin was alive, if he was out there somewhere, then she was confident that he’d received it. It wasn't like he'd ever answered her back before, but she hoped he at least knew about his son.
Suddenly, the scrying table flashed a deep, violet color, putting a mild strain on Alyse's brow. This wasn't what she had been expecting today, but certainly she had been expecting something, sometime soon.
Giving herself pause, Alyse was reluctant to open the message all of a sudden. Deep violet was never good. Lavender was alright, lilac was best. Lilac was safe, it was peaceful. Deep violet was a mess, and she did not want to deal with a mess in the least.
Closing her eyes, Alyse simply waived her hand over the scrying table and channeled her mana in such a way so that it formed a complex layer of seals across the face of the table. The runes glowed for a moment and dimmed again. With her password input, the encrypted message sprawled out across the surface for her to read in an instant.
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—Time circles—Cardinal sings—Crown whispers—by Moonlight—
- L
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Alyse groaned, wishing she hadn’t just read that at all.
Now was not a good time for things to start unraveling elsewhere in Sulren. She still had so much work to do here, so much left to teach Blychert about the world in which they lived, about the classless, and she’d barely even begun to scratch the surface of any of it! With Bartolo gone, Blychert’s magical training was even more crucial than ever before. He needed to master advanced spellcasting as soon as possible; it was simply imperative to her timetable.
“Ugh, I need a holiday…” Alyse grumbled, leaning back in her chair so that the front legs stuck up into the air. She glanced towards the scrying table after a long moment, biting her upper lip worriedly, and murmuring, “Just what the hell have you all gotten yourselves into out there?”
Well, at least she had a heading to work with now.
Tomorrow, she’d teleport Bold Arrow back to Frostwall, bringing herself along with them. If she had any luck left at all, she could squeeze by relatively undetected and get some work done in the city for a few days, then jump back to Kelvalder before anyone suspected a thing. And after that… well, she’d continue her work here, with Bly.
The gap between the classless and the classed was now smaller than ever before. If Trelen were to become a hero? The kind that defied Their logic? Then the tides would shift in their favor, surely. Step by step, inch by inch, those who lurked in the shadows might just stand in the light for themselves one day, if but only to discover how harmless its rays could truly be.
But that… that was getting ahead of herself.
Let him enjoy his life while he could. After all, few such tender moments would be spared, if any at all, when the paradigm broke at last.