The Dean kept Chadwick by his side for the rest of the day as he took him around to various parts of the tower and introduced him to the mages who would be his teachers.
Each teacher got an explanation of what the Dean thought Chadwick’s affinity was and some suggestions for how the teacher could implement that into his training. Many of the teachers were for generic things, like learning about the Siyene shamans and the history of the tower. Others had far more specific subjects, like preparing materials for enchanted items.
One teacher was an older, extremely short lady, who taught reading and writing. This was the only time Chadwick interrupted their discussion — since they were doing something many adults were prone to do with smaller children, talking about them like they weren’t there — to point out that he was perfectly capable of both reading and writing already.
The lady was almost as short as Chadwick but still managed to look down her nose at him, “at your age and from a tiny village? I rather doubt that young student.” She then pulled out a large black book from the shelf behind her and placed it open on the desk. She pointed imperiously at the top of a page. “Read.”
Chadwick stared for a moment and the lady started to chuckle, “bit of a difference between scratching numbers on a wall and real reading eh lad?”
“Oh, it’s not that. It’s just I’m pretty sure I’m the one that scribed this copy. That looks like my hand,” answered Chadwick. Then continued, “if you flip to the back cover there should be a little symbol that looks like a C, it was my mark.”
The lady stared at him for a moment, “if you are messing with me boy…”
Chadwick proved his point by reading the first line, “the soliloquy by Master Jameson on the nature of elemental spirits is considered flawed because of his base assumptions on the uses of fire.” Then Chadwick flipped the book over and opened the back, finding his scribe's mark. “Ah, I was right, this is one of mine.”
The lady seemed to have finally lost her unpleasant look and now had her jaw hanging open, “never met a student who could pronounce ‘soliloquy’. Are you Master Scribe Alver’s boy?”
“I’ve never heard the title Master Scribe, but my father is named Alver,” Chadwick answered.
“Ever since that brat of a boy moved all the way out into the country, I’ve had to send extremely rare books all the way out into the middle of nowhere to get copies. I’ve trusted no one else with my books for 20 years. And you mean to tell me his son was doing the work?” Asked the teacher.
“Ah, I was never supposed to mention that to customers… but I’ve been able to match my father’s hand with a quill since I was four,” said Chadwick, looking a little embarrassed. At the same time, suddenly proud that his father was so well known.
“His first magic was smoothing out ink Elvera,” the Dean added quietly.
The tiny woman shot to her feet, “you must let him work for me! It would be a crime to have him wasting his time on kitchen duties or sweeping.”
The Dean chuckled, “you know that’s up to the council.”
“I taught most of that council how to read, if that self-important bunch of ninnies gets in the way of me having Alver’s boy as an apprentice, I will come upstairs myself and remind them that I can still swing a switch at a bottom just as hard as I could 40 years ago,” she said, waving a finger under the Deans nose.
The Dean actually seemed to take this threat seriously, “you never did lose your aim. The prince of Casperia seemed very put out about the switch marks still being visible on his son’s lazy posterior.”
“His royal bottom had obviously not seen enough spanking as a child, boy had an attitude on him worse than yours when you were a student,” she grumbled.
“I will make sure the council sees reason,” the Dean assured her, backing out of the office and taking Chadwick with him.
“Well, didn’t realize you were quite that literate young lad. That will make things much easier to arrange your schedule,” said the Dean as they walked to meet another teacher.
Finally Chadwick had a piece of paper in hand that had a week’s worth of activities on it. His mornings were for learning with all the other students. Afternoons would be various different magical practice. After dinner was just labeled as “chores”.
“Unless someone has a very pressing reason, your chores will be whatever Elvera needs, each evening for an hour or so. Most students get something practical to keep them from getting lazy, but I suspect you will not be nearly as lax as some of these noblemen’s children,” said the Dean.
“What’s this slot here with nothing at the end of the week?” Asked Chadwick.
“Ah, you get one day off a week to do with as you please, though obviously as a brand new student, you will not be leaving the island yet. The town is forbidden to you until you reach a certain level of control with your powers,” answered the Dean.
They were currently walking the path back down from Elvera’s workspace high up in the tower. It turned out she was also in charge of handling the messages coming in and out of the tower. Those came in right near the top for some not-yet-explained reason. The route ended up being simple enough once the Dean pointed out the pattern the tower followed. There were always stairs up on the north and south sides. The hallways with the classrooms looped around the outside of the tower. And the center was reserved for large rooms. The dining room from the first floor. Then the second and third floor had a combined space in the middle for mock fighting. Chadwick still wasn’t entirely safe from being lost yet, but the Dean seemed well practiced at explaining how to get around in the tower.
The fourth floor was the most interesting to Chadwick. It was lined with armored dummies. And there was a mass of students in the middle, each lined up with a dummy. Each student was doing something different to their dummy. One was firing rocks at it, another was snapping his fingers and causing fire to erupt all over the metal armor. One appeared to have vines growing out of a nearby plant that was constricting the dummy.
“Taverish, I have a new one for you,” said the Dean.
A solid muscled man turned from watching his students and walked over. He looked Chadwick up and down, “how on earth did one so young end up here?”
“Sloan found him in one of the villages we only check every seven or eight years, he only just made the minimum of being ten. Just a little short for his age. Would’ve been easier on him if he didn’t find him until the next round. But, rules are rules,” said the Dean.
“Well, size has little to do with magical ability I suppose, how did he score on the slider?” Asked Taverish.
“Going there next actually, just getting him familiar with his classrooms,” answered the Dean.
“Well, let me know the result,” said Taverish to the Dean, then turned to Chadwick, “let me explain this room, you will be spending a lot of time here.”
Chadwick followed as Taverish walked him over to the center of the ring of outward facing students. Some of whom were still attacking the dummies, but most were looking backwards to stare at Chadwick.
“Quick gawking and get back to it you lot!,” roared Taverish. The man had a touch of grey in his hair, but he was extremely imposing. Especially while shouting his displeasure.
The students who had been staring immediately jumped back to what they were doing. The girl who had been controlling the vines had never looked away was just smirking at the reprimand the others had received.
“Saul, if you can fill the third pipe today. You get a day off and permissions for town. The rest of you lazy lot should keep that in mind, there are rewards to be had for hard work,” said Taverish. The first being directed to a large student who was flinging ice. The latter to the room at large.
The boy flinging the ice looked very pleased at the potential reward and his ice shards sped up.
Taverish leaned down towards Chadwick and quietly said, “so, the way this works is that the dummies are monitored by those pipes above. The amount of damage you can do to the dummy during the course of the lesson is shown by the pipe filling up. The first pipe is the easiest. The second is ten times as hard as the first. The third is ten times as hard as the second and so on.”
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Chadwick nodded with interest, “so the student who is close to filling that third pipe is doing almost ten times the amount as the guy over there throwing the fire?” He pointed to a boy that was sweating while throwing his hands forward one at a time, little spurts of fire launching out and striking the metal armor of the dummy.
“Exactly, the dummies also take more damage in certain spots. So this isn’t just about brute strength. It also trains your accuracy and control. Application of force is important. You have to fill four tubes before you are done with my class,” said Taverish.
“He is scheduled with you tomorrow by the way. His affinity should be an interesting one for you,” the Dean chimed in.
“Oh, not another elemental mage then? That’s all you seem to bring me these days,” said Taverish, looking interested.
“We aren’t entirely certain, but he seems to have an affinity for tiny things,” answered the Dean.
Taverish looked a little puzzled, “hmm that’s going to be tricky with the dummies. How does it work for launching?”
“Well, he shattered a beaker on the far side of my office with a speck of dust I almost couldn’t see,” answered the Dean with a grin.
Taveris raised an eyebrow, “only takes the tiniest of cracks to make glass fall apart. But impressive all the same. Will be a challenge to find the best way to tackle the dummies.”
“I leave that in your skilled hands Taverish, for now I need to do the slider test,” said the Dean and beckoned Chadwick to follow as he headed to the door.
Taverish nodded and seemed lost in thought as they left.
After they left the large room, Chadwick asked, “you aren’t mad about the beaker, Dean?”
The Dean waved his hand dismissively, “that office has seen far worse lad. A mage’s power grows steadily from the day he first discovers his magic. And sometimes we don’t find them until they are adults. One 18-year-old lad accidentally launched one of those tables clear through the window and out the side of the tower. As young as you are and only just accessing your power means you have a ways to grow yet before you could do enough damage to that office to worry me. A beaker is unimportant.”
Chadwick was pretty sure he had been smoothing out ink for almost as long as he had been writing, meaning his power had been growing much longer than assumed, but he didn’t want to contradict the Dean.
The last room they visited on the tour was next to an enormous library, the only thing in the room was a large glass ball in front of an elaborate brass contraption.
“Alright lad, you just put your hand on the glass ball and keep it there while I adjust these dials,” said the Dean.
Chadwick complied and sat patiently while the Dean pulled out a large set of brass weights and sorted through them muttering to himself, “we can start with two of the smalls and always dial back I suppose.”
The Dean placed two of the weights on a platform and then pulled a large lever. An indicator arrow flew up a large rod in the center and clanged at the top.
The noise was so loud that Chadwick winced and asked, “did I do something wrong Dean?”
The Dean was staring at the dial and then glanced at the weights on the platform to one side, “no lad, that was my fault for making assumptions. How early did you say you had first smoothed out ink?”
“I don’t think anyone ever asked. And I honestly don’t remember Dean, I was scribing since before I could walk. So somewhere in that time,” answered Chadwick.
The Dean raised an eyebrow, “very well then. I suppose I need some more weight.”
Chadwick didn’t understand what that meant, but the Dean pulled the lever back and the indicator arrow fell back to the bottom. He then fished out another tray of brass pieces and loaded up six much bigger ones onto the platform and then hit the switch again.
The arrow clanged to the top of the dial again, but didn’t make quite as much noise when it struck.
The Dean just muttered and pulled the dial back again and started to load on more weights. He pulled the lever once more and the arrow once more hit the top, but it did so with a whisper quiet clink.
The Dean stared at the dial while adding a few more small weights to the platform. As soon as the arrow had lowered itself from the top by an inch or so, the weights seeming to balance the arrow like a scale, he stopped adding and stared at the dial.
The Dean pulled a card from his pocket and noted some numbers on it, muttering to himself.
Chadwick was still waiting patiently with his hand on the orb, “is this something like a scale for measuring grain, Dean?”
“A little more advanced, but a very similar idea lad. It measures the weight of your magical ability on the world around you, how hard you press down on the very fabric of the univsere” answered the Dean. Still staring at the weights on the platform. He then turned to Chadwick, “you can take your hand off the orb now lad.”
Chadwick did so and the arrow that had been balancing right near the top suddenly dropped with a clang. He had no idea what fabric the Dean had been talking about. There was none nearby. Perhaps it was hidden in the machine?
The Dean stared at the arrow for a moment and then sighed, “well, it’s safe to say you passed lad. Though I wouldn’t mention this to any of the other students.” The Dean paused for a moment, “in fact, no teachers but Taverish, since he will need to know. We’ll have to arrange something for the six-monthly…,” he trailed off.
Chadwick was puzzled, “I’m not sure I followed all of that, Dean.”
“Oh, right. Most students would need to come get tested every six months or so. Or, more often once they have passed their other requirements for taking a book. But, you are already well past the minimum needed…,” the Dean seemed to trail off.
None of this had particularly cleared up Chadwick’s confusion. But he decided to just wait patiently for the Dean to collect his thoughts.
“Right. Here’s what we will do. If any teacher asks about the slider test, you will say you are at three small weights. That should be a good balance. Also, if another teacher tries to bring you here, tell them that the Dean wanted to personally administer your six-month tests, out of interest in your unique affinity,” said the Dean. Then looked very serious as he added, “never let anyone but myself or Taverish test you on the slider here.”
“I think I understand what the weights indicate, but why do I need to lie, Dean?” Asked Chadwick.
“Not lying as such lad, since your magic level is technically at least that level. Teachers will ask ‘how high’ you have reached, saying you have reached three small weights is perfectly accurate. You did reach that, and that is how many I had to add to balance it after the large weights,” said the Dean. His voice sounded calm enough, but there was an undercurrent of almost panic to it.
Chadwick could feel the worry and wasn’t entirely sure where the issue lay in teachers knowing he scored higher on this device than expected, but the Dean seemed to be a genuinely nice individual so far, so he agreed, “ok Dean. I will say I’ve reached three small weights. By the way, what did you mean by taking a book?”
“Ah, yes. There is a list of requirements you must complete. But, once you qualify, there is a sort of dedicated training to put the final polish on your mastery of your affinity. It is the final step to earning the title of Mage. The training takes place within enchanted books,” answered the Dean, seeming relieved that Chadwick had agreed to fudge the truth about the weights and was happy to move on to something else.
The Dean packed away the weights while Chadwick absorbed this new information.
“How does something take place in a book, Dean?” Asked Chadwick.
“Ah, I did say enchanted for a reason. You will get transported to a sort of fake world within the book. Almost no time will pass here, but you could be inside the book for days, weeks, even months in some rare cases. The book itself will contain everything you need to master your affinity. But that’s something for much later, you have many years of classes ahead of you before you meet the requirements of a book,” answered the Dean.
They went back down to the room with Taverish.
The Dean stepped into the classroom, “step outside with me for a moment, Taverish.”
He quickly dragged the now slightly alarmed Taverish into an empty classroom that was on the opposite side of the hallway.
“I need your word that what I say next stays secret between us, to the limit that you can,” said the Dean seriously.
“We have been friends since we were teenagers, you can say what you need John,” answered Taverish.
Chadwick hadn’t heard the Dean’s name before then, but he supposed he would never use it. Not something we would likely need. He just waited while they talked, still not sure what was so serious about the results of the slider test. Adults did seem to obsess over unusual things sometimes. This just felt a bit more serious.
“Even from the headmaster, Taverish,” said the Dean.
Taverish raised an eyebrow, “I’ll do my best. Tell me what has you in such a tizzy.”
“Eight large weights and three small,” said the Dean flatly.
Taverish quickly looked around to double-check no one was in hearing distance, “that’s ridiculous John, he’s only ten. Are you sure you did it right?”
“Please, Taverish. I administer your annual tests personally. I know that machine better than anyone,” said the Dean.
Taverish looked scared, but thoughtful, “you have prepared the boy to answer questions I assume?”
The Dean nodded, “he will answer that he reached three weights. I just need your guidance on how we handle the dummy room. It’s risky for him to do it with other students present. And having him train with only you personally would raise too many questions.”
Taverish pondered this for a moment, “easy enough. I will rig one dummy to output the expected results. Then I can test him for real on his day off. It will be believable enough to claim he needs the extra training, since he is so young and others will believe him to be at three weights. I’ll set the rigged dummy a bit under the expected, make it look like he really needs the tutoring.”
“Oh, that’s good. If appears to have a slow start and is not moving quickly enough, he will get overlooked as a regular underachiever. Should be an easy sell for a boy from his village being behind the curve,” mused the Dean.
“What is your plan long-term?,” asked Taverish quietly.
The Dean sighed, “I don’t know yet, but this will keep the lad safe for a few years at least.”