“Here, young Mistress. Lift your arms.” Demetria, her maid for the last year, told her, and Jean complied with only minimal grumbling.
No one could ever accuse her of being a morning person, but she still religiously woke up when the woman rang the bell. Initially, Jean had been too embarrassed to accept the help, but being late to her lessons several times and a few humiliating discussions with the Archmage had made her understand she couldn’t afford to be that spoiled.
Demetria was a matronly woman who had taken her life in hand and turned it into something ordered. Her curly brown hair even reminded Jean of the few memories she had of her mother. She would never admit it out loud, but she had come to enjoy being pampered by her, if only because of the physical contact and care Demetria put into her appearance.
Given her albino heritage, Jean needed to take care of more than just applying makeup. Expensive elven creams, imported from the finest herbalists of Lantea, were applied to her skin, protecting her from the sun’s rays and just about anything short of distilled Void essence. Silverite-framed glasses, inscribed with dozens of runic circles meant to facilitate her mana sight, were placed on her brow, and Jean opened her eyes, as always fighting the urge to frown at the sight that greeted her.
image [https://i.postimg.cc/RhGSy8Vd/persimmon0-albino-teenage-girl-short-hair-archmage-wearing-expe-00396b52-7aeb-47bf-9133-6285dc6c4a63.png]
She wouldn’t call herself ugly - not with how much the Archmage spent beautifying her - but she was different. Snow white hair, red eyes, and skin so pale one could mistake her for one of the ghosts that haunted the Death Pass. She was short, too, despite having gained an inch since the end of the Incursion. The physician who checked her over last week had informed them that unless she deliberately went out of her way to buy expensive elixirs, she’d likely stay at her height of five foot two.
Jean had been tempted to do it. She knew the Archmage would have them ready for her within a few days if she only asked. But as always, something held her back. It wasn’t that she feared him, no. She was grateful to Wilbert Helmut, the Archmage of Order, more than she could express. Having been an orphan barely eking out a living by digging through trash, Jean knew how bad things could be and how privileged she now was.
But their relationship was also a very transactional one. Her talent alone had been enough at the beginning. The old man had praised her as she cleared milestone after milestone faster than anyone before in the Tower’s history. With the coming of the Incursion, he had withdrawn his affection, concentrating more on important matters. And when she had finally developed Pure casting, solving one of the greatest problems that plagued modern magic, he had showered her with attention and gifts. He had gone so far as to arrange for her old haunts, the slums at the northern edges of Mellassoria, to be revitalized and built a school in her name for all the orphans to attend.
That, however, had come at the cost of having to participate in the fight personally. She hadn’t wanted to, fearing for her life, but had accepted it in silence.
She had made some amazing friends then and had grown more than she could have imagined possible, reaching heights that forced her to hide most of her mana at all times to avoid causing a mess with the sheer metaphysical weight she carried.
Once Leonard achieved that final victory and the forces of the Void were repelled, she had thought she’d be free, having done her duty.
Instead, the Archmage immediately made her teach a class of noble scions to leverage her popularity. He then requested her presence at balls and feasts in different mansions across the capital. While Jean could skip some events, declining others risked offending the inviting nobles.
And the old man made sure to remind her that she couldn’t afford it. He had never directly threatened her. No, that would be too crass and unnecessary. He knew how to push her buttons. Simply assigning to her Demetria, a woman who looked so much like her mother but was also bound to him with a slave collar, was enough to maintain his hold over her.
And if she was too rebellious and refused to act as entertainment for a noble scion that a simple third-tier spell could wow, he just had to remind her that the orphanage bearing her name would likely not last long without the generous donations those same nobles made.
And so, Jean allowed herself to be dressed in the elaborate clothing befitting her station as an esteemed genius. Her robes were deep indigo, adorned with silver embroidery that swirled in intricate patterns, reminiscent of the mana flows she so adeptly manipulated. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time, sighing softly at the reflection.
“You look wonderful, Mistress,” Demetria assured her, her voice gentle but firm. The maid adjusted the final piece of Jean’s attire, a delicate chain of enchanted silver that rested on her forehead, designed to enhance her concentration during spellcasting. She hadn’t needed anything of the sort for years, but she wanted to keep a low profile, even if that meant wearing expensive jewelry.
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“Thank you,” Jean replied, her tone polite but tinged with resignation. She knew Demetria's words were genuine, but they did little to assuage her discomfort.
Jean made her way to the dining area of her chambers, where a small breakfast awaited her. The table was set with vibrant and juicy exotic tropical fruits from beyond Brander. Just the cost of transporting them here would have been enough to feed ten families for a year. Beside them sat a delicate porcelain teapot filled with expensive tea from Eturia. She nibbled on the fruit and sipped the tea mechanically, the enjoyment she once derived from these luxuries long lost, her thoughts already on the day ahead.
Once her meal was finished, Jean left her rooms and headed to the elevator at the end of the corridor. The White Tower of Magic was an imposing structure, its interior filled with all manner of arcane contraptions. The elevator was one such artifact, and Jean sparked it to life with a tiny infusion of mana, stepping inside as the mechanism hummed to life.
The ride down was smooth, the magical device taking her swiftly to the seventeenth floor, where her classroom awaited. The doors opened, and Jean stepped into the wide corridor, her steps echoing softly against the polished stone floor. People of all social strata stopped to greet her, bowing and smiling. She did her best to be polite but didn’t linger, as she feared some of her true thoughts would slip if she stayed longer than the minimum socially permitted.
She approached her only class for the year, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her innovative way of using magic, known as Pure Casting, would be taught only to the privileged scions of nobility. Twenty students, all high-ranking families, sat waiting inside, their attention shifting immediately to her as she entered.
“Good morning, Mistress Jean,” they chorused, their tones a mix of respect and curiosity. The noble children, aged fourteen to sixteen, were dressed in expensive attire. Such wealth being flaunted made her teeth itch.
Jean nodded in response, her eyes sweeping over the group. “Good morning, students,” she replied, her voice even. Magic was something at which she excelled, enabling her to adopt a more confident persona effortlessly.
Just outside the classroom, Demetria sat on a bench, waiting dutifully. As a servant, she was not allowed to learn the secrets of the craft Jean was about to teach, and the sight of her sitting quietly only deepened Jean’s sense of frustration at the injustice of it all.
With a heavy heart, she gently gestured to the door, and it closed immediately. Silencing wards activated, protecting the secrets the parents of the children present had paid a king’s ransom to learn.
"Today, we will discuss the basics of Pure Casting," Jean began, her voice calm and controlled. This much, at least, she could do. She swept her gaze over the twenty pairs of eager eyes, some filled with genuine curiosity, others with the indifference of spoiled nobility.
Pure Casting, the revolutionary technique she had developed, radically changed how magic was used during an Incursion. When the Void threatened to consume all, the very presence of the primordial force would disrupt and destabilize spells, making traditional magic unreliable in the face of such darkness. The only thing that held up was high-level Holy Magic, hence why Heroes and Saints were so well-regarded. However, her discovery had given the kingdom hope that in the future, it would be able to minimize the damages should another Incursion occur without needing to rely on external saviors.
"I spent months exploring the studies of the Archmages of the past," Jean explained, voice steady as she walked among the students, her robes trailing softly behind her. "These great minds had dedicated themselves to discovering why the mere presence of the Void so often disrupted magic.”
The students listened intently, some leaning forward. This was a secret considered a National Treasure, shared with them only because of their status and would elevate them even more should they master it. Jean paused and looked out over them. "The approach of the Archmages was meticulous," she continued. "They sought to understand the specific circumstances under which magic would falter, examining everything from the changes in ambient mana to the caster's state of mind, searching for patterns.”
She let her eyes linger on each student, making sure they understood the gravity of what she was saying. "What I realized, however, was that while their work was incredibly detailed, it was ultimately flawed. They were focused on the specific circumstances, on countering the Void, while I decided to focus on the essence of using magic itself.”
Jean moved to the front of the classroom, where a large blackboard displayed several complex magical formulas. "Many of the greats before me had minor success with encasing their spells in powerful protections," she said, pointing to a series of symbols representing such methods. "However, their prohibitive cost made them unfeasible for widespread use.”
She turned back to her students, her red eyes gleaming with passion for her craft. "What I found that was so revolutionary was that spells, which at their core, incorporate the true essence of an element, can withstand the Void much better than anything else. It is the purity of understanding that makes an element impervious."
The students nodded, some scribbling down furiously. Others simply watched her, trying not to miss anything. Jean doubted any of them understood what she was talking about.
"Take fire, for example," Jean said, holding out her hand. A small flame flickered into existence, bright and warm. "The Void would disrupt a traditional fire spell because it relies on the combustion of the air. But if the mana itself is formed into fire before being unleashed, it becomes resistant to the influence of the Void.”
She let the flame dance in her hand, the warmth spreading through the room. "This difference, in essence, is the key to Pure Casting. By producing an element from mana, and not as a consequence of a process, you can protect it from outside influences. It is a skill that initially takes some time to develop and could even be considered unnecessary by some. Still, its use in contrasting corrupting forces like the Void is unmistakable.”
The students' eyes widened with understanding; her explanation's simplicity belied the concept's complexity. It had taken the Royal Mages months to incorporate the method thoroughly. It would take the children much longer. "Of course, it's not just about knowing the method," Jean cautioned. "You must feel the fire, become one with it. Pure Casting requires a deep connection with the elements, a harmony that cannot be faked.”
Jean moved to the blackboard gracefully and sketched out the formula for a basic Pure Fire spell. "This," she said, pointing to the completed hexagram, "is where you begin. Practice this until you can summon a flame that burns true, even in the face of the Void. You’ve all been granted access to the Tower’s reserves, where a drop of minor Void essence can be requisitioned for practice. Only then will you understand the essence of Pure Casting.”
Practice afterward was as dull as she expected, and while a few students exhibited some talent, they weren’t worth wasting time over, in her opinion.
After the lesson ended and the students filed out, Jean was finally left alone in the classroom. She sighed, placing her head in her hands.
The moment of quiet was soon interrupted. The door opened, and she turned, expecting to see Demetria, but was instead faced with someone else.