CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Magic for Beginners

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“Carry on, o’ errant knight,” Bram sang, “fighting evil with righteous might!”

It was a loud, raucous tune he sang; one meant to stir the blood of those who heard it.

The prince who’d once again donned his bard’s disguise strummed his lute with practiced hands. “Don’t you lay your sword to rest…”

Bram hoped his song would inspire Hajime, though, from the sound of his companion’s cries for help, he guessed his tune wasn’t as effective a morale booster as it could’ve been if it were weaved with magic.

The prince shook his head.

There was no point wishing for the impossible. Even with the system’s help, he didn’t have enough magic within him to become a proper bard. At least not the kind adored by the Imperium’s grand theaters.

“Fight until you’re—”

“—Bram-sama!” Hajime yelled desperately, forcing Bram to pause his singing.

From his perch atop a thick tree branch, the prince gazed down just in time to notice that the otherworlder had rolled to the ground after stumbling over an exposed tree root. Unfortunately, he couldn’t dodge the shaggy, black beast charging him with black antlers that smoldered like burning coals.

“I-I’m going to die!” Hajime screamed.

“Dying once could help us study the effects of a death on Aarde,” Bram whispered in a curious tone. “Maybe I should let—”

“—Bram-sama!” Hajime yelled again. “Help!”

The prince caught sight of the otherworlder’s face—the fear apparent in Hajime’s expression—and he recalled his own sense of crippling fear whenever he faced that sleek blue monster that often ended his dreaming in such a violent fashion.

Bram sighed.

Then he whistled.

A moment later, he heard a friendly bellow responding to his whistle. It came just in time because the shaggy, black beast hellbent on skewering Hajime with its antlers was nearly upon him.

It was a split-second save; Renfri slammed into the blackheart stag’s side right before it reached Hajime.

“Good boy,” Bram whispered.

Renfri’s ivory antlers pierced into the blackheart stag’s hide, causing dark ichor to splash out of wounds dealt to it by the young hart. Unfortunately, Renfri’s attack wasn’t enough to slay a beast that was at least four hundred pounds and nearly eight feet long. However, there had been enough impact to send the shaggy beast reeling away from Hajime.

The blackheart stag roared indignantly, and its bellow shook the branches of nearby oaks.

“Phoebus’ cock…we’ve attracted a feisty one.”

This fel beast was no red grizzly, but even Atlan’s seventh prince couldn’t shake off the tingling in his spine as he observed the creature preparing to charge again. Its beady black eyes weren’t turned on Bram, but on Hajime who’d just regained his footing.

“It recognizes who the weaker prey is,” Bram deduced.

Hajime noticed this too.

“Bram-sama…can I tag you in?”

“You don’t need me… You can do this.”

These were the same words of affirmation the prince used to tell himself whenever he had to try something uncomfortable. Sadly, things never worked out for a young Bram. But Hajime was made of different stock. He had talent. He was the Loom’s first arcane novice after all.

Hajime still looked unsure, but he nodded all the same.

“I can do this.” He spoke so quietly that Bram’s ears strained to hear him. “I can do this.”

Hajime raised his new wand forward, its tip shaking as he held it aloft.

He took a breath, then, “Hi-ya!”

Nothing.

Bram laughed out loud. He couldn’t help it.

Although he wanted to help Hajime learn sorcery too, the prince also couldn’t help feeling relieved to learn even a potential dream walker was having a hard time learning to wield basic magic.

“Nandayo?!” Frustration filled Hajime’s face.

It was an expression quick to vanish though, replaced by the sudden fear of impending doom because the blackheart stag was rushing forward again.

“It’s not working”—Hajime stumbled backward—“Bram-sama!”

Since he’d been observing Hajime’s fight with a deft eye, Bram deduced that the arcane novice’s failure to wield sorcery had nothing to do with his talent. Indeed, with Hajime’s passive abilities inflating his magic power well beyond the reserves of an average beginner, the arcane novice shouldn’t have such a hard time sensing his inner magic…but he did.

He’s only felt the signature of Rowan’s magic. He’s yet to feel his own.

Atlan’s seventh prince may have no talent for sorcery, but he’d studied the sorcerous arts so thoroughly that one might call him an expert at noticing the quirks and flaws of others when it came to harnessing their magic power.

“Focus!” he instructed.

“Can’t!” Hajime yelled back.

The otherworlder had just jumped out of the way of the blackheart stag that nearly ran him over.

“Why’s it chasing only me?!”

Hajime donkey-rolled to the side just in time to avoid the smoldering antlers that skewered the ground he’d vacated.

“Despite the threat, you must focus. Breathe—”

The blackheart stag’s front hoof nearly landed on Hajime’s chest. Fortunately for him, Renfri came to his rescue once more. The hart bounded forward, and like a graceful ballerina, he twirled his body around and then kicked out at the blackheart stag’s rump with his hindquarters.

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The shaggy beast was pushed aside, allowing Hajime time to escape from under it.

It turned, its beady black eyes now fixed on Renfri, while its teeth gnashed together in anger.

Worried for his hart, Bram yelled, “Renfri, brighten the night!”

Ser Anthony had once suggested to Bram that his new mount might have been born a hybrid. Indeed, there were several similarities between the young hart and the monstrous blackheart stag it faced. They both had fur as dark as raven’s feathers, though Renfri’s fur was trimmed and glossy while the blackheart stag’s mane looked mangy by comparison. They were nearly the same size too, though Renfri’s neck was longer, giving him a more elegant appearance. There was one obvious difference between them; while the blackheart stag’s antlers were thick and black like smoldering coals, Renfri’s ivory antlers—shaped like the outline of a heart—shone with an inner light that all harts possessed. And, at the prince’s behest, these antlers began brightening.

“Shut your eyes, Hajime!”

Bram followed his own advice, closing his eyes just as the glow of the young hart’s antlers brightened into a flash of light so bright that it lit up the night.

The blackheart stag neighed in anger—proof it had been struck by Renfri’s ‘Antler Light’, a power all harts shared, which was why they were the preferred mount of nobility and commoners alike. Of course, the truly affluent could afford a wyvern mount, but such creatures were hard to tame and required lots of upkeep. A rich noble would be better off buying an auto-carriage, though its maintenance costs were also high, making harts a much better and more affordable option.

“Breathe, Hajime.”

With his eyes still shut, Bram continued his instruction.

“And with each breath you take, imagine the magic flowing inside you.”

In his mind’s eye, the prince recalled when he’d tasted Rowan’s power flowing through him and how he’d used that power to slay his former coachman and Baer’s collaborators.

“Feel the magic rippling through your veins like a great wave crashing into every bit of you…” Bram longed for that taste of power himself, though he knew it wasn’t the time for ‘Status Emulation’ and its limited usage. “Channel that wave of magic into the tips of your fingers, your wand, and to the moment you choose to strike!”

He peeked through half-closed eyelids.

Renfri’s antlers had dimmed to a low glow, allowing him to observe the scene below.

Hajime’s eyes were still closed, though his breathing seemed steady while he aimed his wand forward.

Good…he might manage it this time.

Meanwhile, the blackheart stag’s vision had yet to fully return, though its wildness was barely diminished by its loss of sight. The beast might have rushed blindly at Hajime again if not for Renfri choosing to take the initiative once more.

The young hart slammed its head against the wary beast, causing their antlers to lock together. They pushed and pulled at each other, and though Renfri was slowly losing this contest of strength, he was managing to keep the blackheart stag contained to one spot.

Watching Renfri show such a strong heart caused Bram’s chest to fill with pride. They hadn’t been together long, but Renfri was quick to act in his interests with barely any instruction given. It made the prince wish he’d had magic enough to learn a beast tamer’s spell. Surely, Renfri would make the perfect friend for Bram to teach magic tricks to.

I want far too many things…

A flash of green caught Bram’s attention.

It was on the tip of Hajime’s wand; the sparks of emerald light that were the telltale sign of magic at work.

“You’re doing it, Hajime,” Bram whispered excitedly.

Hajime didn’t cast a spell. He hadn’t learned one yet. Instead, he’d harnessed his inner magic to empower the elemental enchantment grafted onto the Young Griffin’s Wand so that he might use the power of the wind to hurt his foe.

“Bloody hell, you’re doing it…”

A bead of emerald light formed on the wand’s tip, with strips of air gathering around it like a bundle of yarn.

Hajime took a deep breath, opened his eyes—his irises gleaming with ethereal light—and aiming his wand, expelled his breath in a roar, “Hi-ya!”

‘Bang!’

That bundle of air shot forward like an arrow in flight—and struck the blackheart stag in its neck. It was a blow that tore into the beast’s hide, drawing ichor and causing its head to rear back in surprise.

“Yatta!”

Hajime pumped his fist into the air.

“Don’t lose your focus now!” Bram warned. “Again!”

“Hai!” Hajime replied, looking excited.

The arcane novice twirled his wand with a flourish, and, though Bram thought he looked ridiculous doing this, the twirling seemed to help Hajime channel his magic into his wand so that he fired a second, third, and fourth projectile of wind magic at the blackheart stag. This kind of magical attack was the basics of an enchanted wand or staff and was a lifeline for sorcerers who’d depleted their magic reserves.

‘Bang!’

‘Bang!’

‘Bang!’

Unable to escape the distraction of Renfri’s charge, the blackheart stag was struck by Hajime’s elemental attack. The wind blasted its neck full of holes, causing the beast to stagger back.

It released a painful neigh.

“It’s like firing daggers right in its gullet,” Bram noted, and, with a grin, added, “You’re brilliant, Hajime!”

The arcane novice might have blushed properly if he’d heard the prince’s praise. Sadly, he looked too weary for his gaze to leave the ground. Hajime was out of breath, his shoulders sagging, his face paling as if he’d run a marathon at a sprint. Hajime’s condition was expected though, because Bram knew better than most how hard it was flexing muscles one had never used before.

The prince drew his sword from its sheath. “I guess the finishing blow’s mine to take.”

He didn’t mean to steal Hajime’s kill, but they were on a tight schedule, and this stag was but the first beast they encountered on the secret trail down from the cursed cave. Fortunately, Hajime’s and Renfri’s combined attacks had forced the blackheart stag underneath Bram’s tree, making it vulnerable to an attack from above.

“One swift blade to the back of its head should do the trick.”

In his mind, Bram recalled the number of times he’d been forced to jump out a two-story window or the rafters of a high ceiling to attack the straw targets he’d been instructed to murder. It had been grueling training meant to give him an advantage against sorcerers who lacked talent in spatial perception. It was also training that often led to bruised knees or sprained ankles, but eventually, Bram’s teachers in the Delighted Troupe grew satisfied with his skill to bring silent death from above.

Tonight was a little different. He wasn’t allowed to slay the beast. Not yet.

Here I go.

The prince jumped off his tree branch—and the blackheart stag was so distracted by Renfri drawing near that it failed to notice Bram falling on top of it.

His teachers would’ve preferred him to be more subtle, but Bram—who’d been suppressed by the Sovereign’s court for so long—liked to cut loose and use his ogrish strength whenever possible. So, with gravity supplementing his attack, a single prodigious swing of the flat of his sword’s blade smacked hard against the blackheart stag’s head, causing the beast to topple over in unconsciousness.

“And that’s how it’s done.”

Renfri drew close to place his snout against Bram’s cheek.

“You did well too, my friend.”

With one hand, he patted the hart’s neck. With the other, he pulled out a clump of elderberries from his red jacket’s pockets and offered them to Renfri’s mouth.

The hart was eating the prince’s offering when Hajime arrived. He was still short of breath, pale like he was dying, but his face showed excitement too.

“Nice teamwork!” Hajime said.

The otherworlder raised his hand to the prince, palm forward, and Bram, having seen this very pose once in his visions, knew exactly how to react; he smacked his fist against the otherworlder’s palm.

Hajime laughed. Coughed—coughed some more, and then he took a much-needed breath.

Realizing he’d made a mistake, Bram asked, “Was that not how you do it?”

“No,” Hajime smiled sheepishly, “we’ll work on it.”

They tried again, and this time Bram managed a proper high-five, which, unbeknownst to Hajime, sent a thrill up his spine.

Truthfully, the prince never had anyone to high-five with, because he’d never had a friend his age to fool around with. Not really. Even the children of the capital’s slums avoided him once they’d learned Bram’s identity.

Not that Bram considered Hajime a friend.

Though he missed out on proper friendship when he was young, the prince was educated in the rituals that led to it; rituals such as sharing jokes or pranking old men or falling for the same comely maiden.

So, no, they weren’t friends. Not yet.

But at the very least, the prince imagined he’d finally met someone he could get to know without worrying about his ill-fated reputation.

It was a silly thought, but as Bram watched Hajime try to tie up the unconscious blackheart stag’s front hooves together, and failing miserably at it, he couldn’t help feeling a little hopeful.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Bram took Hajime’s place, expertly tying the stag’s front hooves together to keep it from running away should it awaken before they returned to the cursed cave. Once he moved on to its hindquarters, they heard an angry bellow from just beyond their sight.

“This one must have a mate, which saves us the job of searching for a second sacrifice.” Bram glanced over his shoulder. “You handle it. Defeat the next beast like you defeated this one.”

“Eh?” Confusion flashed on Hajime’s face. “W-What about teamwork?”

“We’ve tried teamwork.” Bram’s gaze returned to the unconscious stag so Hajime wouldn’t see his grin. “Now it’s time for you to fly solo.”

“B-But, Bram-sama, what if my magic fails again…?” Hajime asked.

“We have a saying in the Imperium,” Bram resumed tying the stag’s hooves together, “repetition is the mother of learning.”