After class, I bid farewell to Melina, who’s anxious to return to her orders in the glass works. At first, she doesn’t want to leave me alone, but I assure her that the worst of the side effects from the mana control test have passed. I’m worried that I won’t catch Ezio before he’s tied up with other projects, so I rush past the students in my study group, ignoring Zviad’s stare.
“Ezio! Could we meet in your office?” I call out, lengthening my stride to keep up with his ground-eating pace.
“I have half an hour. Keep up, Nuri,” my teacher replies, not pausing. His hands are still clasped behind his back, holding up the hem of his long black robes so that he can walk free from obstruction.
He’s as fast as I remember, so I run to join him in his small temporal field. It seems like a different Skill compared with the one Melina has, but the function is similar. Even so, it takes me longer than usual to catch him in my current state. When we finally walk together side by side, the campus goes by in a blur, and we soon reach his office.
Once inside, Ezio settles into his chair with a satisfied groan. He nods at me. “Well, you went through with it. Nicely done. Not every student was willing to proceed. What do you think, Nuri? Worth it?”
“Not sure yet. Those numbers better be important,” I say, laughing weakly. I’m trying to come up with a funnier joke, but I still don’t feel well. “You know, I almost changed my mind. I didn’t want to take the test after watching Zviad spew all over the floor. But I couldn’t pass up a chance to know where I should focus on improving.”
“That’s the spirit. We’ll put together a comprehensive plan for your continuing education. If I do my job, then you’ll be proud to boast one day that you trained under Ezio, the [Scholar Nonpareil].”
I can’t help myself. “Is that really your Class?”
“Don’t spread it around,” Ezio says, chuckling at my skepticism. “Yes, that’s really the name of my Class. No, it’s not strictly true. Some [Scholars] are better than I am. Probably. But it is flattering, don’t you think?”
I nod. “Extremely impressive.”
“You’re slurring. Here. Let me get something for you,” Ezio says. He rustles around in his closest, and surprises me a moment later by tossing a blanket over me and awkwardly patting my shoulder with his hand. His voice is kind when he speaks. “That may have been the worst reaction I’ve ever seen someone go through in a mana test. Forgive me; I didn’t think it would be that bad. I called for a mug of hot mulled cider and a sweet roll for you while you recover.”
“Zviad threw up,” I mumble through my still-numb lips, lifting my head to make sure he could hear me. Talking to the floor seems counterproductive. “Didn’t think my try would be all sunshine.”
“I threw up, too, my first time,” Ezio says. “In fact, I threw up last time. All these years later, and it still catches me off guard.”
“Oh, speaking of years, I figured out you’re fifty-nine,” I say. My head still feels like a slurry of rocks and glass shards, but that fact glitters in perfect clarity.
“Well done. Where’d you start looking?”
“Library. Got a list of everything you published,” I answer. I pause to rub my temples, as if that will help. The dull throb of pain has shifted down to the base of my neck. “The town hall confirmed the rest.”
“Resourceful. That’s what I like about you and Melina. When Ember first reached out to me, I was intrigued. Rakesh’s glowing review solidified for me that it was worth following up on the opportunity. Seeing your determination in action validates the choice. We both stand to gain considerably from this arrangement.”
“Wait. Back up,” I say. My mind is moving like molasses, but I finally process his earlier comment. “Why was the test so bad when you took it again?”
“That was only my hubris writ large. I wanted a perfect Retention score,” Ezio admits sheepishly, standing up and pacing over to his desk. He rummages through his endless stacks of books and papers, picks up a note, puts on a stylish monocle, and frowns as he reads it to himself. “Right! Three percent off. I have yet to log a perfect run in all my decades.”
“Was anyone today perfect? Zviad aside. Ha. What’s a good score, anyway? I feel like I did fairly well, all things considered.”
“Indeed,” Ezio says, his voice surprisingly warm. “There are several raw scores before the ratio is calculated and the curve applied. Shall I explain them to you now, or do you need more time to recover from your trauma?”
“Learning is its own reward,” I say weakly.
Ezio scratches the back of his head. “What a load of rubbish. But, absent pain killing medicine, a distraction will probably do the trick. Very well, let’s run through the basics. Don’t tell anyone, but I intended to put this into a pop quiz, since your required textbook reading goes over all of these categories. I feel bad for you, and you don’t need credit since you’re auditing, so here we go.”
“Maybe I’ll sell that information to Zviad,” I mutter before I think it through. Then I bury my face in my hands. Did I just tell my teacher that I’m breaking the rules? Ugh.
Ezio snickers at my horrified expression. “Headache-induced honesty! Love it. Listen, if you do tip him off, make sure he compensates you well. His family is filthy rich. Don’t let him take advantage of you.”
Face burning in shame at my brazen admission of helping another student cheat so that I can make some money, I settle for a mute nod. Privately, I also vow to never try to pull one over on Ezio if money is involved. He seems shrewd.
“We measure in six main categories—there’s technically a seventh, but it’s for crazies only, mages who repeat the test three times in a row,” Ezio says.
“Like you?” I ask innocently.
Ezio chuckles. “Yes. Like me. I struggle with Consistency, and I’ve been doing this for a long time. Don’t even think about a triplicate test."
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I mumble, and he laughs softly in acknowledgement of my misery.
“First: Resistance is a measure of how difficult it is to allow mana within. This has little to nothing to do with defensive capabilities against mana intrusion, however. Contrary to popular expectations, high mana control correlates with low levels of resistance; the harder you have to work to overcome a high resistance score, the less likely you are to actually manipulate mana around you.”
“I don’t think I have a good resistance rating. That burned like drinking etching acid.”
“Is that the voice of experience speaking?”
I nod solemnly. “Don’t make bets in the glassworks while drunk—or at least don’t lose the bets.”
Ezio snickers again, then clicks his tongue. “Congratulations. My expectations for your intellectual capacity are now dashed to pieces. Ahem! Moving on, we have Retention: the mana control test takes the starting and ending quantities of mana and provides the percentage loss while passing through a foreign system. That is, through your mana channels.”
I whistle in newfound appreciation for Ezio’s test results. “You only lost three percent? That seems extremely good, based on everything I’ve ever learned about how the body handles non-native mana.”
“Thank you for noticing.” A smile breaks out on Ezio’s face. “Although, I ought to mention that it’s more properly a function of the soul, rather than the body. Most people reject unknown aspects, which makes even transferring the mana from one node to the other a spectacular challenge. Scoring over sixty percent retention means you’re likely qualified for magical studies. Anything over eighty percent puts you in a potential genius category, contingent on your other scores.
“As you may discern from my posting here in the borderlands, I am not close to a genius at magic. Alas! Thankfully, I’m good at what I do. As I mentioned in class, I specialize in studying artificial mana aspecting, thanks to my ability to handle any aspect equally well. I spend most of my time researching. I’m an ideal academic, but I have next to no capabilities in combat. Why, you may ask?”
Dutifully, I ask why.
“The answer is in the next category: Speed,” Ezio continues. “Look, calling me slow is an insult to slugs and sloths the world over. l’m downright glacial, unfortunately. By the time I could free-form wield, say, fire mana into anything resembling a fireball attack, an enemy could cut me to pieces with a dull spoon.”
“Slow and steady is a virtue, according to my ma,” I say innocently.
Ezio glances down at his notes and frowns. “Ember claimed you were an orphan. Was she simply tugging at my heart strings to get a better deal?”
“No, I’m referring to my adopted mother, Kirsi. Her husband, Reijo, is one of the senior [Gaffers] at the studio. He took me in after my father passed on. I’m still close with them, and consider them family.”
“A good man, no doubt, and a wise woman,” Ezio says, amending his notes with a pen of condensed mana. “Now, I don’t know about slowness counting as a virtue, but I appreciate the sentiment. Poor speed can be mitigated by high Capacity, at least in a laboratory setting. I might take all night to test an odd form of mana, for example. If I never run dry, however, then the end result is roughly as fast as having extraordinary Speed, but average Capacity. If another [Scholar] or [Researcher] performs the same test, a smaller mana pool becomes a bottleneck. This theoretical [Researcher] will have to take breaks to refill mana, so by morning, it all evens out. In practice, any obstacle can be overcome with hard work.”
I frown, mentally chewing on the concept. “Couldn’t people get around that by boosting mana regen? Even in the studio we have an infusion station.”
Ezio regards me with a pleased look. “Good lad. We’ll make a [Scholar] of you yet. When your regeneration is so paltry to begin with, then yes, adding a few extra mana per minute may seem like a game changer. In the realms we work in, however, that’s barely a rounding error. No one regenerates fast enough to keep up with the quantities we require.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
I laugh. “My regeneration is trash-tier. Got it. So, when do I get to see my score?”
“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to sound smug,” Ezio says, and he has the good grace to look embarrassed. “Patience. We still have one last measurement to cover.”
“[Teachers] talk too much. That’s why I quit school,” I mumble.
Ezio moves on to the next category as though I haven’t said a single word, which I take as a good sign for our working relationship. He seems unfazed by my heckling, which makes me like him more. Maybe he’s just taking pity on my current state. I’m not exactly at my best, and embarrassing words keep slipping out before I can stop them.
“Fidelity is essential,” Ezio says. “I saved it for second to last so we can dig in the most. Even if you show some talent at control, your suitability for more advanced concepts of mana manipulation rely heavily on Fidelity: that is, the ability to engage with mana without changing its signature. Adding anything to the mana is muddying the water. The closer the output mana is to the input mana, the better your Fidelity.”
I nod, my interest piqued now. “So, if the test mana changes its aspect, or shows signs of significant deviation, then I likely have low control. I’d like to think all the years of practice with glass will help me with building consistency.”
“Perhaps,” Ezio says, drumming his fingers on the table. “The mana signatures must match as closely as possible between the two nodes. You can certainly improve over time, but I’m not sure how much unrelated practice will correlate. Handling mana directly is key. High scores in the other categories, but poor Fidelity, will sink your final results. It’s an interesting theory, though.”
“What’s next?”
“Control. Your ability to redirect and manipulate mana. It’s exceptional. You’ve been training hard, and it shows.
“Incidentally, you mentioned the final term, the one that caused me to lose my lunch: Consistency. That’s for repeat test-takers to see how much sheer volume of testing they can manage back to back to back without their scores plummeting. You don’t need to worry about that result, however. Academies require special permissions to even obtain a mana test that’s capable of measuring Consistency. Even then, testing is usually restricted to graduates. I can’t test you for Consistency in good conscience. Perhaps in a half a decade of study, you might be ready. Maybe.”
“Pass! I’ll happily skip that one. Besides, Fidelity is the one I’m curious about. Adding the wrong elements, or too much flux, or perhaps leaving out an alchemical bit when I’m making a batch of glass can ruin the entire thing. Fidelity sounds like the most important of the scores.”
“And, I think, it will prove doubly important for you as an artisan,” Ezio agrees. “The most prized [Enchanters] in the nation all share an extreme Fidelity score. If you harbor any hopes of imbuing glass with mana, then you absolutely must learn how to work with it without warping the aspect or weakening the final result—although, come to think of it, imbuing curiously involves an arcane transmuting of the mana, fundamentally altering the result. I haven’t had a good chance to study it in depth. Perhaps Fidelity is less important than I assumed.”
My entire being lights up at the mention of mana-imbuing. If I learn nothing else from this arrangement besides the basics of improving my Fidelity, then my training with Ezio will be well worth Ember’s investment. I scan Ezio’s desk for an unused piece of paper, swipe one of his pens, and start scribbling notes. “Tell me how to train Fidelity.”
Ezio chuckles. “It seems Ember was correct that you’re keen to learn more about how to combine craftsmanship with scholarly magic. A fine career path, and certainly safer than hunting monsters without training. You’re lucky I found you; Ember wants you to become stronger before she takes you hunting again.”
Ember’s planning to take me hunting? A shock like cold water to the face hits me at his words, bringing with it both clarity and another rush of gratitude. No wonder Ember set me to train with Ezio. She’s been teaching me how to fight, and now Ezio will teach me how to use magic. The delays aren’t because she doesn’t think I’m not good enough; she’s just worried I’ll get injured, or worse, if I don’t get good counsel.
If I keep training without supervision, and get in over my head because I’m taking crazy risks, then not only does she lose a valuable worker—and the potential money-maker of a mana imbuer on her staff—but she’ll fail in her promise to my father to keep me safe. Now, I can make real progress, under expert supervision. She’s always looking out for me.
Emotions whirling, my surprise transforms into resolute determination. I won’t let Ember down. I’ll study hard.
“Adventure burns in my blood,” I say earnestly. “I want to do my part for Silaraon. If I’m needed, I want to fight. Maybe I've been going about it too recklessly, but I’m not interested in ending up as a [Scholar]. No offense. Or a lifelong cup-maker, for that matter! I want to see the world. If Ember says to do it your way, I trust you have my best in mind.”
“Good lad. Let’s stick to your scores for now,” Ezio says blandly, pulling a sheet of paper out from his drawer. Precise, printed lines show each category and score, as well as the final tabulations of the ratio that will become our final rankings.
My fingers flex and open at the thought of the long road ahead of me, but I’m committed. I let out a weary sigh, and nod my assent. “I want to sleep, but I’m listening, as long as you don’t stray too far into the weeds of academics.”
He blushes. “You drive a hard bargain, Nuri. Deal. Any preference on which category we review first?”
“Fidelity,” I answer immediately. “I need to know if I have any chance at seriously training with a master.” My gut clenches, twisting into a knot in anticipation. “I hope it’s good enough.”
“You aren’t even past the first Threshold, so don't rush things. You have plenty of time to grow. But as requested, your score." He spins the page around and shows me the text. “Fidelity is at seventy-three percent.”
“I need eighty to become a master?” I ask quietly.
Ezio tuts at me. “No, that’s generally when people consider you something of a prodigy. This is your first test, Nuri. You’re establishing your baseline. That’s all for now. Your score is an exemplary starting position, I promise you that. We’ll make good progress as long as you read the textbooks I assign and pay attention in class.”
“My baseline. That’s helpful to remember.” I tap my chin as something he said earlier comes back to mind. “Wait, you’re at ninety-seven and you complained! Don’t feed me a load of broken glass and try to pass it off as exquisite art. You said Fidelity is essential to imbuing. How am I supposed to overcome that?”
Ezio pinches the bridge of his nose. “Remarkable! You really have no idea how good that is for a first test, yet you’re up in arms over a number you didn’t know existed an hour ago. Let’s moderate our reactions, eh?”
“No batch of glass that’s nearly thirty percent off would ever be remotely acceptable,” I counter. “Even if I—”
“Stop comparing everything to glass, Nuri," Ezio orders, and this time he sounds less like a kindly grandfather and more like a [Scholar] at a prestigious institute. His demeanor shifts into something sterner, and I shut up and listen. “I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to make a vase, so don’t try to tell me how to do my job.”
Ezio sighs and smooths his black silk robes, calming himself. “You achieved an excellent score. You’ll see everyone else’s scores next week, so that should help with perspective. Under my guidance, you have a chance at surpassing the eighty-percent mark within a couple years, if you’re willing to work harder than you ever dreamed possible.”
A wave of excitement rocks me, and I grin so hard my face hurts. “Two years? That’s it?”
“Maybe three,” Ezio says, waggling his open hand back and forth as he estimates. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re still a full-time glassmaker, not a dedicated student. And don’t you want to do more combat training with Ember? That takes time.”
“Fair enough. Still. I thought you’d tell me it would take a decade, like with your graduate students. This is great!” I’m so happy that I’m almost shouting by the end, which makes my head spin again.
Ezio chuckles. “That’s the spirit, Nuri. I’ll be charitable and chalk your loud voice up to the headache of mana-drain, but let’s keep our composure, shall we?”
“Sorry,” I say, although it’s hard to feel bad about such good news. I sit up as a thought occurs to me. “Do you think I have a shot at the First Threshold soon?”
“Hm. Tough to say without a more thorough evaluation. Combine an eighty-plus rank with a decent first Threshold, though, and we could walk into any shop in the Capital and get you an apprenticeship. You’re in a good spot.”
The pounding in my head seems less intense after that. I grin again, wondering if this helps my chances when I finally enter the All-Densmore Glassmaking Competition. “That’s better than I realized. Sorry for my overaction.”
He winks. “Wait until you hear how abysmal your Capacity is. Then you’ll really be upset at how far you have to go.”
“At least I’ve got a good teacher,” I say, nodding at Ezio. Flattery never hurts, eh? “Keep going through the categories. I’m curious.”
Ezio clears his throat. “Capacity first. The reason you feel so woozy is the method of testing. To fill you to capacity, the gauge first has to forcibly eject your naturalized mana. This allows it to get a read on your signature, which it will use to measure how much you contaminated the unaspected mana, and empties you for the next stage. You were likely too distressed to notice, but you can’t deposit mana into the receptor until the reservoir fills up your core first. However much mana you ingest is the basis for your Capacity score.”
I frown. That explains why I feel like garbage, but not how two dozen of us took the test. “How does the gauge get refilled?”
Ezio chuckles and says, “I charged the reservoir as we went. More expensive versions purify and recycle the mana, but I can easily keep pace with a room of first years.”
I bolt upright out of my chair in shock, swaying as a wave of dizziness hits me. “No way! You have as much Capacity as all of us put together?”
“More.” Smug as a bug, Ezio props up his elbows on the desk and reads the test results without further commentary. “Capacity: twenty-two. Retention: sixty-eight. Speed: forty-four. Resistance: nineteen. And you already know Fidelity: Seventy-three. Overall control is not an average ranking, but a composite, and you’ve done very well there with a seventy-five. Congratulations!”
Capacity: 22
Retention: 68
Speed: 44
Resistance: 19
Fidelity: 73
Control: 75
Consistency: NA
“Well, throw me a party,” I say with a faint chuckle. “At least I don’t put up much of a fight against foreign mana. Easy pickings over here!”
Ezio shakes his head. “Not so. That Resistance score is your best of the bunch, actually. Remember, lower is better. It’s valuable if you want to use a variety of mana aspects. Enchanted items respond more readily to your touch since you won’t have to struggle to overcome high natural Resistance. You might even be able to work with artifacts. Don’t despise a good score simply because it’s not the one you want.”
My eyes widen at the implications. “Do you have any artifacts? enchanted items? I’d be extremely interested in practicing with them.”
“The academy does, but their use is restricted to graduates. You'd have to pay entrance fees and put in years of work first. Sorry," Ezio says. He spreads his arms wide and shrugs, as if to underscore how powerless he is to help at the moment.
I sigh ostentatiously. “Sounds like a money grab.”
Genuine laughter bubbles out of him. “Well, yes. But what’s the alternative, Nuri? Should we allow untrained people to get their grubby hands on objects of unparalleled power? That hardly sounds promising for my long-term health!”
I laugh along with him. “Fine, fine, I get your point. But just because something’s smart doesn’t mean it’s not also self-serving.”
“Are you still convinced altruism is the only virtue?” Ezio says, a note of astonishment in his voice. “I thought we settled that so-called dilemma earlier. As long as we're both profiting from the arrangement, and we go in with our eyes open, then what’s the harm?”
I give Ezio a nod of thanks. “Another good point. You might be the best teacher I’ve ever had, although the primary schools in Silaraon’s crafting quarters aren’t exactly high-class. Sorry for making things difficult. Now that we’ve got that stupid test out of the way, when do we begin learning mana manipulation?”
Ezio tilts his chin up and adopts a haughty tone. “Nuri, Nuri, Nuri. I’m hurt! There is no question about it. I’m definitely the best teacher you’ve ever had.”
“I bow to your wisdom, master,” I reply, sketching a mock bow in my seat that makes my head woozy again. We both chuckle.
“Now, time’s running out. I have another class to get to, but we’ll discuss the testing and its implications in more detail in class next week. We still have to see your aggregate score and your ranking on a curve versus the other [Mage] and [Scholar] aspirants,” Ezio says.
I rub my temples with my fingers to stave off my headache. “I am curious to see how I stack up. But perhaps a nap is in order first.”
Ezio cracks a slight smile and shakes my hand. “Don’t forget to enjoy your mulled cider and sweet rolls. They should be here any minute, if the staff’s not delayed. See you next week, Nuri. And remember: the fun’s just beginning.”