Looking at the first blueprint, Walter immediately saw a number of ways to improve it. The three of them were good, no doubt about it, but he’d been a master ritualist long before he’d become a Lich. Aside from a few improvements in the mana efficiency and flow, the ritual was decent. The targeting portion especially was as good as it could be, hindered only by the natural limitation of the design doctrine. When inventing the Immortalizer, Walter had created what was essentially a completely new way of transcribing rituals, properly utilizing the third dimension for the first time since the Pioneers, and making use of moving parts for the first time in history, as far as he knew.

Using two gyroscopes and a selector ring, Walter could’ve made the ritual in front of him do exactly what they wanted it to in less than half an hour. He couldn’t show them how, of course. Even if he acted his heart out, pretending that he just thought of such a groundbreaking idea without actually knowing what he was talking about, they would simply tell him that it wasn’t possible and disregard his ideas. For them to be able to actually reproduce his method, they would need at least three months of intensive tutelage under Walter himself, which wasn’t going to happen for a whole slew of reasons.

Then again, Walter wasn’t just a master because he could make the same rituals better than anyone else, which he could, or because he had an instinctual understanding of Pioneer Runic that nobody else could match, which he did, but also because he was able to think outside the box and solve problems in new and innovative ways.

“Does it have to be a shield?” Walter asked slowly.

“What do you mean?” Archibald said, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the first battle where the Marradi used fireballs, one of them went wide and landed in the woods. It didn’t crash through the trees all the way to the ground, it exploded somewhere in the canopy. It must’ve hit a branch, I think. So, I’m wondering: How much force do you need to apply to a fireball for it to explode?”

The room was silent as all three mages stared at him, then exchanged baffled looks.

“…I don’t know,” Archibald answered. Then he grinned. “But I know who does. Come on, guys!”

The three excited ritualists hurried toward the door, reminding Walter of nothing so much as a bunch of puppies as he followed them with a smile. It felt good to be home.

When Edwin left the cart, the three Journeymen were nowhere in sight. A quick look around the corner showed them quickly walking alongside it, and Edwin followed. The driver gave them a curious look as they powerwalked past, but the mages were on a mission. Two carts ahead, Archibald put a foot on the step and knocked on the back door. It opened, revealing the grumpy face of the beautiful head spellweaver. The young woman’s gaze paused slightly on Edwin, then returned to Archibald.

“What?” she snapped. “I’m busy.”

“Hey, Ferraline!” Archibald greeted her cheerfully, undaunted by her mood. “Sorry to disturb you, but we need your help. It’s about the anti-fireball-ritual. Have a minute?”

The head of the spellweaving team raised an eyebrow, studying her colleague for a few seconds.

“You have the same materials I have,” she finally said with a frown. “Just read the damn books.”

“Please?” Archibald said, batting his eyelids.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Fine,” she relented, pushing past him out of the cart. “I could use some fresh air anyway. Now, what is this about?”

The four stepped aside to not get stepped on by the following cart’s oxen, then began walking alongside the vehicle.

“You know that we were trying to get a shield to explode the fireball while it was still high up, right?” Archibald said, animatedly waving his hands while walking next to the spellweaver who looked stunning even while frowning. “Well, Edwin over here just made a very good point. There’s nothing forcing us to use a shield. So now the question is: What else can we get up there with enough precision to hit the damn thing and enough force to explode it? The reports don’t really say anything about how much force is enough, so I figured since you’ve been trying to build one yourself…”

“I see,” Ferraline said, her expression relaxing. “Not a bad thought. It’s a tough question though, I’m not sure how to answer it.”

“Let’s say we shot it with an arrow,” Rolf chimed in from behind. “Would that work?”

Ferraline shoved her hands into her robe sleeves, looking up at the dark evening sky in thought.

“Theoretically, sure. It doesn’t matter what shape it is, only how much force it exerts on the containment sphere. I don’t think arrows are ideal though – they’re very light, only dangerous because they concentrate their energy on a single point. For the sphere, that doesn’t matter, as you can’t pierce it anyway.”

“What about a rock?” Edwin asked.

“Again, the shape doesn’t matter. I think it would be easier to do with a rock though, as it is heavier. Colliding with a fast-moving rock of at least this size going the opposite direction should definitely do the trick.” She formed an O with her hands, showing roughly the size of a baby’s head.

“What about several small impacts?” Edwin said, cocking his head as an idea formed.

“If they’re close enough together, let’s say, within half a second.”

Edwin looked at Archibald, who leaned back to meet his gaze behind Ferraline’s back.

“If that works…” the young ritualist said with a wide grin.

“Only one way to find out,” Edwin said, the smile infecting him as well.

“That there is!” Archibald said, turning and running back to the ritualists’ cart. “Thanks Ferraline! I owe you one!”

The young woman opened her mouth as if to ask what they were talking about, then she sighed and pulled herself back onto the back step of her cart, disappearing inside without so much as a goodbye. Choosing a more serene pace, Edwin followed the three Journeymen. When he arrived, they had already cleared their main table and were brainstorming the ritual. Closing the door behind him, Edwin simply leaned against the wall and watched, enjoying the familiar sight and sounds.

When the first rough sketch was done, the ritualists took a short break. As it was growing harder and harder to keep himself from chiming in with suggestions, Edwin instead sidled up to Archibald while the Journeyman was grabbing a cup of water.

“So, Ferraline…”

“Oh, we were in the same class,” Archibald said easily. “She has this whole ice princess thing going on, but she’s actually pretty nice. Really good spellweaver, too.”

“And the two of you…?” Edwin asked, grinning.

“What?” Archibald seemed genuinely surprised, then broke out into laughter. “Gods, no! Look, I like her, I really do, but not like that. If you know how to deal with her she’s nice enough, but she’d slit your throat and dump your body in the woods if she thought it would give her a leg up on the competition. She’s a cold-blooded careerist if there ever was one. She’s decided that she’ll be faculty head one day, and woe be to anyone who stands in her way.”

Edwin sighed, disappointed. That was definitely not the reaction he’d hoped for. “One of those, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Archibald said. “How else do you think she already made assistant chair at her age?”

“Well, at least she’s motivated,” Edwin said just as the cart rolled to a halt. He pushed off the wall, remembering the time. “I think I’ll head back to my unit now before they start worrying where I’ve run off to. Mind if I drop by tomorrow?”

“No, feel free,” Archibald said, slapping him on the arm. His hand smacked against Edwin’s armor and he shook it, grimacing. “You take up a lot of space, but the chance of you having another good idea is totally worth it.”

Waving to the other two, Edwin left the cramped wooden box. It was properly night now, and the College carts had drawn into their usual round configuration. As Edwin passed by, the drivers were climbing off their seats, shaking out their stiff limbs, and moving to unhook their oxen. He needed to get back to his banner before they set up camp or he’d get in trouble for not helping.

Maybe Bordan is back, Edwin thought. I wonder what they’ve come up with.