“Good, well then how about I teach you a bit about Forms today before the whole group gathers for training. Forms are some of the most fundamental Shapings you can use, so I’m sure you have some knowledge about them, but if you can really master a few they can become your strongest weapon.”

Wayne looked Jaemeson in the eye, and saw the opportunity head on. He gave another nod.

“Can we start now?”

“I like your enthusiasm lad! But no, I want some breakfast first. And coffee. Definitely coffee.”

Wayne looked at the Praetor’s slightly disheveled exterior and now understood more about the man. Jaemeson was not a morning person.

The realization that the powerful Legionnaire struggled to get out of bed in the morning was strangely funny, and Wayne found himself chuckling at it before he could control himself. Jaemeson smiled too, and let out a small laugh himself despite it sounding just as weary as he looked.

“Come on, follow me lad. Let me show you the way to the Cafeteria. You’ll love it, sometimes I think it’s the only reason I stick around here with the greenhorns.”

Then Wayne’s stomach made its discomfort known once again.

“Restrooms. I mean, Praetor Jaemeson, I need to use the restroom, please, sir.”

“Ah, right this way lad. Right this way.”

* * * * *

Several minutes later, Wayne was exiting a restroom, his stomach feeling much better. Jaemeson waited outside, a knowing smirk on his expressive face.

“And that’s why we don’t have rations all the time. It does get better once your body acclimates to the experience, but it’s never pleasant.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Jaemeson let out a quick laugh.

“Alright come on then. It’s coffee time, and I’m sure you’re feeling ravenous now.”

Now that the Praetor mentioned it, Wayne’s stomach had gone from aching in one way to aching in another. Food sounded good, and Wayne had never had coffee before.

“Lead the way Praetor.”

Jaemeson led them through the keep and after only a few more turns they had reached the cafeteria. Apparently, the older Legionnaire had taken them to the restrooms that were on the route here.

There were no guards at the door, and a steady stream of Legionnaires and other Empire officials flowing in and out of the cafeteria. Strong smells wafted with the people, and Wayne’s mouth started to water as he got hints of roasted meats and seasoned breads.

One person walked out with a small plate and a daintily jiggling desert on top of it. They nodded at Jaemeson as Wayne eyed it hungrily. Then he turned his attention to the cafeteria as he entered. It was hard not to.

There were clusters of stations stacked high with every breakfast food Wayne could imagine, and a few that he wouldn’t have been able to a minute ago. A station that caught Wayne’s attention in particular was the cycalo eggs and whole slabs of poren belly.

The eggs were creamy and light, fluffy when properly cooked, and the poren belly… Well there was a reason why people called it the potbelly maker. The fatty meat tasted so savory and powerful when simply cooked in its own juices that many people said seasoning it was a waste.

Both were delicacies that Wayne would only eat on Sun’s Rise back at the orphanage. In truth, it was unlikely that there would even be both at the holy breaking of fast, and to see such a surplus of the expensive food was eye opening. Eventually, Wayne would adjust to the opulence of the Legion, but apparently not today.

Because that was not the only station serving what Wayne would consider delicacies. Although some of the more rough fare he was accustomed to was present, most of the dishes were skewed towards a more refined palate than was capable on a commoner's budget.

Plates full of potatoes were next to stacks of walbila fruit and steamed oraq. To Wayne’s left there was an entire station with five separate types of noodle. Everywhere he looked there was a different option for today’s breakfast. Wayne stood there, in indecision.

“Just grab a plate and load it up Wayne. If you decide you want something else, make sure you finish your plate and just go up for more.”

“We can get more than one plate?” Awe crept into Wayne’s voice.

Jaemeson chuckled at the tone of Wayne’s question.

“Yes. As much as you can eat. Just find me when you’re ready to leave.”

Wayne darted for a stack of plates and immediately started helping himself. He grabbed both the eggs and poren belly, alongside a baked potato and a few slices of the seasoned bread he had smelled from outside. As he went to get some jam, an unfortunately familiar redhead was already at the station, spreading strawberry jam on his toast.

As Wayne debated whether or not butter would suffice, he lost his chance to take the initiative. The other boy turned around, and a sneer filled his face.

“Poser.” The redhead snarled as he walked by.

Wayne did his best to ignore it, and began spreading groura jam over his own toast. Then, when he finished he saw someone else that he recognized from the Noble Century. Makelian was also waiting in line for the jams behind Wayne, the same uncomfortable smile on his face as before.

“Hello there, it’s good to see you again, Wayne!”

“Uh, likewise, Makelian. Go right ahead.” Wayne said while gesturing towards the jams.

“Thank you.” The boy said, stepping up to the station but continuing to speak. “A word of advice, avoid Cleft for the foreseeable future. When Praetor Jaemeson told him off for his reckless attacks on you yesterday, he was abnormally resistant to the Praetor’s words.”

“Oh, his name’s Cleft. I wonder why he hates me so much.” Wayne responded.

Makelian gave him a look askance, the smile dropping from his face.

“Do you truly not know his grievances with you?”

“Uhhh…” Wayne was lost. Had he truly done something to deserve this treatment from Cleft?

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“I can see that you are unaware. Interesting! Follow me.” The strange boy finished preparing his own toast and gestured for Wayne to follow him. Shrugging, Wayne went with the turquoise haired boy to a table in the far corner of the cafeteria.

There they joined another pair of Hastas wearing the white Legionnaires casuals, a boy and girl with similar inky black hair and strong facial features, but wildly different body types. Makelian introduced them quickly.

“This is Wayne Clive Aouris, and these are the Talagar twins, Lord Ivan and Lady Yvonne!”

Ivan was a slender and smaller man. He wasn’t bulky with muscle but his form was still well defined, athletic and lean. His long dark hair was perfectly styled and combed over his head, and his eyes were sharp like a bird of prey. His sister, on the other hand, was almost the complete opposite, only sharing the same shade of hair and characteristically shrewd eyes.

Broad shouldered and with arms that put Wayne’s own to shame, Yvonne was a giant of a woman in many respects. Her fierce look was completed with a jagged cut bolt of black hair standing above the rest of her short trimmed style. But certainly no one would mistake her for a man, the top buttons of her uniform open as she leaned over the table and food in a manner that kept Wayne particularly conscious of making eye contact as he greeted the siblings.

“It’s nice to meet the two of you, Lord and Lady. As he said I'm Wayne, the other names are rather recent additions, so I’m still not quite adjusted to them yet.” Wayne said, trying to make a good impression.

Yvonne looked him up and down, grunted and ignored him, causing Ivan to tut across from her.

“I apologize for my sister, she lacks any sense of social ability or manners in general, unfortunately. Nonetheless, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Aouris.”

“I… apologize for the confusion but I’m not a Lord myself, Lord Talagar.” Wayne replied, confused at the incorrect assumption.

However, at his words the rest of the table shared a brief look between themselves, even Yvonne sharing in the knowing look. Finally, Makelian broke the silence.

“This is why I brought him over here! Interesting, is it not? That no one has told the boy himself about the situation he’s in?” Suddenly Makelian’s usually uncomfortable smile was amplified even more, twisting his face inhumanly as he spoke about Wayne like he wasn’t listening from less than half a dozen strides away.

“Interesting, but could you simply not have informed us of his ignorance? Now that you’ve brought him to speak to us we’ll be pulled into the crossfire. You’ve brought danger right to our door, for what reason?”

By the end of his grievance, Ivan actually seemed quite frustrated. Then, as Yvonne began to give a full hearted laughter that pulled attention to their table from others close by, realization spread across his face. Ivan looked back and forth between Makelian and Vyonne, who was still laughing then buried his head in his hands.

“You twisted fools.” Was all he said.

Finally, Vyonne stopped laughing, and pointed at Makelian.

“Alright you, you’ve earned another duel. After the Trial, if you succeed as well, we will find a day to hold it.” Then she moved her finger to Wayne. “And you, we’ll take care of you during training so the others don’t bother you. At supper, my brother will explain your political situation in detail.”

Then she stood from the table. The Talagar woman was probably seven stride tall, with proportions matching her arms as muscles flexed all over her body.

“Now, you’re one of mine. No running. We will see you soon.”

Then the powerful woman walked away, expecting her brother and Makelian to follow. Which they promptly did, leaving the table still full of dining ware. Wayne absently noticed that Makelian hadn’t had a single bite of his toast, the jam beginning to soak through the bread.

* * * * *

After the news that Wayne was in more trouble than he knew, he decided to bury his troubles in the waves of delicious food that the cafeteria offered. Wayne gorged until his newly fitted button up was pulled taut, and only then did he seek out the Praetor.

He found the man beside an impressive collection of coffee mugs, and together they made their way to the main training grounds of the fortress. It was surprisingly empty, adding a surreal effect to Wayne’s first step to mastering magic.

“Alright, let’s start with the first Form that we train here, Enforcer. This is a restricted Form that only people with high enough clearance are legally allowed to instruct others on. So don’t go yelling out anything I’m about to say, yeah?” Jaemeson asked with a smile.

Wayne nodded, understanding the severity of what he was being given. For most people, a single Form was their livelihood, the culmination of not just their life's work but that of generations of their ancestors and mentors to create and polish to its current state. Wayne hadn’t heard of anyone other than Nobles having access to multiple of them.

And Jaemeson said this was the first Form that they train…

“I understand Praetor. I will not careless with this privilege.”

“Good lad, I trust you. Alright then, the first thing you want to do with your Shaping Space is to hold a solid mental image of yourself. Once you have that stable, you need to really visualize a suit of armor coming from your skin. Mind you, the armor is coming from your skin, your skin shouldn’t be turning to armor, that’s a key distinction there.”

Wayne just looked blankly at the older Legionnaire for a moment, before asking his question.

“Excuse me, Praetor, but what is my Shaping Space?”

Then it was Jaemeson’s turn to cast a pitying gaze at Wayne.

“Ah, you’re really starting from scratch there, aren’t you.”

Wayne nodded with a weary resolution.

“Well, let's start from scratch then. Alright Wayne, in the days since your Awakening, have you had a moment where you fade out of reality. Maybe you’ve seen a vision, oftentimes this happens when someone receives a Statistic increase.”

Wayne thought back over the last few days, and remembered how he had caught a glimpse of Luminos’ Realm when he had been running the cool down lap after the ladder drill. It had felt like his Awakening ceremony, and immediately after his Speed and Spirit had both increased by one.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Yesterday, when I fell over after that final lap, I had just snapped out of a vision.”

Jaemeson let out a quick laugh. “Oh ho, I thought that may be the case when you started talking about Statistics immediately after. Do you remember how that vision felt, as you saw it, as you entered it? Try and recreate that feeling now.”

Wayne cast his mind back to yesterday, trying to remember every detail of the buildup to the vision. Yes, he had been exhausted, his stamina depleted but there was more to the memory than that. Thinking back, there was a sense of rhythm, of a flow to his movements and breathing that stood out in remembrance.

Slowly, he tried to bring his thoughts to heel, letting go of his surroundings as he did before. It didn’t happen immediately, nor did it happen within the first minute. Then five minutes passed, and a wave of frustration began to undercut his calm.

Eventually, Wayne just wanted to move on and opened his eyes, as he said so.

“Can you just tell me about the Forms, Praetor. I’ll practice this in my spare t-”

Jaemeson was right in front of him, a disapproving scowl on his face.

“One time I had a best friend. The man I looked up to most in the world at that point. He was the reason I joined the Legion in the first place.”

“This man, he was the most naturally skilled Shaper I have ever seen in my life, lad. I remember busting my ass off every day, trying desperately to catch up to this one person. It was not enough. Even when he started sleeping in past training. Even when he drank more liquor than water. Back then, it seemed like Lunimos himself had blessed this man with inhuman talent.”

“Then, we both graduated and passed our Assessments, and were given our first Assignments. Three months we were to spend on the mission. I couldn’t wait to meet up again and swap stories about what glory we had won.”

“But when I arrived back in Light’s Reach, only one member of his Cohort was there. Told me the rest died, because that fool of a man fell asleep on his watch while they were in a Rift.”

Jaemeson leveled a deathly serious stare at Wayne, imparting the importance of what he was about to say.

“Don’t give up already. Giving up once forms a habit. Save that moment for when playing the coward might save your life, not when it may make your morning a bit easier.”

Wayne didn’t know the exact depths of the wisdom in that statement, but he still immediately bowed his head slightly and ceded the point.

“You’re right. I apologize, let me continue.”

It took another ten minutes for Wayne to finally fall into something approaching the trance-like state he had achieved previously. The same out of body experience happened, as Wayne became acutely aware of every fiber of his body. It was too much for him to process immediately now that Wayne was conscious of the information, and he lost himself to his fugue state.

Then it was another fifteen minutes before he roused from his stupor, maintaining his separated state of mind. Jaemeson had moved further away by then, looking around at the other Hastas coming to the grounds to train. However, as soon as Wayne gained some outside awareness, the older Legionnaire continued the lesson.

“I want you to continue to surround yourself with that feeling. Then, slowly mind you, try to make a space within your awareness, a small space you can control with your thoughts. Start small, just establish a foothold.”

Wayne started small like Jaemeson said, imagining big enough for just his eyeball. It popped into place quite easily, and Wayne felt a brief sense of accomplishment. He had just tried to do it, and it happened naturally.

Then, he tried expanding the small space he had carved out. Jaemeson hadn’t said not to after all, just to go about it slowly. Again, he didn’t feel any feedback and thus continued to expand his Shaping Space. Just a small bit at a time, until the spherical shape had reached the size of an apple.

If he could make it this far, what would be the harm in pushing a little further. Letting loose, Wayne pushed his control outwards. It was invigorating to see his power grow before him. Addicting even.

Then, suddenly Wayne was suffocating, the air having grown too heavy for him to breathe without warning. He sputtered, trying to get a full breath without success until Jaemeson smacked the back of his head, breaking Wayne’s concentration and almost sending him to the ground.

“I said to take it slowly lad. Listen when I say things, I’m not speaking just to fill the silence.” The Praetor said with a disapproving tone.

Wayne at least had the dignity to look chagrined.

“I’m sorry, it's just… nevermind, sir. It won’t happen again.” Wayne rubbed his head as he made the promise to the other Legionnaire.

“Mmm. I have the feeling it will. Anyways lad, how far did you get?”

“I- What?”

“Tell me how far you got, lad. How large did you get your Space out too? Don’t hold out on me now Wayne.”

Wayne had expected the other man to be more upset that he hadn’t followed directions, but then again Jaemeson did give off a quite relaxed impression. Wayne calmed down again, and let the excitement of learning magic overtake him.

“Well, I started around the size of an eye, and then slowly brought it to the size of an apple. From there… well, I might have gotten carried away a bit at that point, but I think I got it to around ‘this’ size.” Wayne said the last part while gesturing with his hands about six inches apart.

Jaemeson had a sad smile on his face, but he didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Impressive. But we need to get to work. Go again.”