Samuel tensed his arm, gathering the mana there, then thrust it forward, willing it to spin rapidly and shoot from his palm. It became a physical force as it flew, turning into a twisting bolt of fire, which slammed into the target dummy across the room. Samuel felt a rush of enthusiasm sweep over him, and released another.
“Well done, Apprentice Bragg,” Master Moran said, nodding in approval. “I must say, you’re advancing quite well in spite of not using incantations.”
“Thank you, Master,” Samuel replied. He resisted the urge to remind him that he was so dismissive of Samuel’s ability in the previous class, but only just. “I can’t figure out how to do it without spinning my mana, but at least I can cast the spell now.”
“That is a matter of control,” his teacher explained. He stood beside his student and lifted one hand, firing off the same spell. This bolt of fire didn’t spin, and it was considerably brighter, not to mention more powerful. Whereas Samuel’s attacks had lightly singed the training dummy, the one Master Moran aimed at had gained a new sizeable hole in its chest, and it was lightly burning.
“But if you’ll take advice from me, I’d keep the spin. That will allow it to fly much further than if you used an incantation. Spinning is what allows it to stay straight.”
“Yes, Master.”
Master Moran moved further down the line, stopping occasionally by other students to speak with them quietly, offering corrections or suggestions where he saw fit. Samuel fired a few more bolts, then decided to take a break. For some reason, casting spells didn’t exhaust him nearly as much as it did the other students. It was almost as if he had more mana to draw upon, but in reality - though he couldn’t know it - he was already very efficient with these basic spells. After nearly a week of constant practice, he’d refined the process down to a fine art.
Arthur had been a great boon in helping him practice at home. Along with Mari, they’d set aside one of the basement rooms as a training area, with stone walls and ceilings so that he couldn’t inadvertently burn something down with his spells. Samuel had put in at least two hours of repetitive casting each night after his classes, and now he was starting to feel more confident in his studies as a mage.
He would have been tempted to experiment on his own, but Arthur had been firmly against it. “You are still learning, Samuel. If you go too far and make some severe mistakes, you may hurt yourself. There are many cases of mages who tampered too much with their magic and lost their lives.”
That thought was frightening enough to tamper his eagerness and accept the guidance of his teachers in learning new magicks. The very last thing he wanted was to kill himself with his magic. Unfortunately, he was picking up spells too quickly, and by the end of each lesson that presented a new spell, he’d already managed to cast the spell more than once. Being a first year, his teachers couldn’t spare any time to teach him new things; he was forced to stick with the rest of his class.
Not that everyone in his class was behind him, of course. In fact, there were three others that kept up with him, even using incantations. The first came as a surprise; it was none other than Augustus Silver, the son of the arrogant Alistair Silver who had hosted Samuel’s welcome dinner with the other nobility. His green robe indicated that he had a good amount of natural skill, though it didn’t seem to be in the area of magical power.
Erik Kiinor, Archmage Kiinor’s teaching assistant and younger brother, had also turned out to be a major talent in both Destruction and Restoration. He had incredible power behind every one of his spells, and he knew it. It would have been an understatement to call the young man confident and self-assured. He was the opposite of the third skilled mage in their class, Kendra Ashara, who was a cousin to the Archmage of Divination and excelled in the same school.
Samuel had wondered why Augustus, Erik, and Kendra had different colored robes from the rest of the class - green, grey, and red respectively. They were all in the first year, after all, but the other students wore the dull brown of apprentices. Neither Augustus nor Erik seemed interested in explaining the process, merely scoffing or smirking at his ignorance of how the College operated. Thankfully, Kendra seemed a kinder soul.
“It’s mainly due to their natural talent when they took the admission test,” she explained with a warm and open smile. “Though family reputation does play a certain role.”
“I see,” Samuel had replied. He wondered if he would have been given a different color robe if he hadn’t automatically been placed under Arcana’s patronage. He liked to think he would have, but it probably would have made his first few days even worse as the other students say a higher-ranked student struggling to cast even the most basic spell.
He couldn’t be certain, but he thought that Erik Kiinor wasn’t particularly fond of him. The grey-robed first-year hadn’t offered any statement to reinforce this suspicion, yet it lingered. Kiinor treated him with a touch more dismissal and ignored him a little more often than the other members of their class did. Augustus’ treatment of him was no surprise, knowing what he did of his father. But Samuel wondered what reason Erik could have for not liking him. To his knowledge, he’d offered the boy no insult.
Thinking of Augustus and his arrogant father spawned a question in Samuel’s mind. “Master Moran?”
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The teacher made his way back down the line of practicing students. “Yes, Apprentice Bragg?”
“Why are so many mages using incantations? My friend told me it’s more difficult to work magic without speaking, but the speed benefit outweighs the difficulty, doesn’t it?”
“It does. But that alone won’t help the average student. The goal of the college is to teach the spells you will use and prepare you for life as a mage. It was decided long ago that learning incantations was more than enough for that task.”
“I see,” Samuel replied, filing that information away for later reference. “It’s just that those incantations are so long. It takes several seconds to cast even the most basic spell.”
“That is true. But in your later years, we will teach you ways to shorten these incantations, once you’ve mastered the art of guiding your mana. Then, in the third year, we introduce the subject of silent casting. Most mages can cast the simple spells without speaking by that point.”
“That would be those in green robes.”
“Correct.”
So that meant that Augustus should nearly be at that level, he thought. And Erik Kiinor was getting close. Did that mean that Samuel was already on track to be equal to the third years of the College? It was a tempting thought, but he wasn’t inclined to think so. For one, they would know a vast amount of spells compared to him. Was there any way he could accelerate his learning? He was thoroughly enjoying his studies now, but the slow pace of his classes was already starting to wear on him.
He was so busy with thoughts of speeding up his education as he left Master Moran’s classroom on his way to lunch that he wasn’t paying very close attention to where his feet were carrying him. That alone wouldn’t have been the problem, as he knew the way automatically by now, but partway down the corridor he collided with someone, and nearly fell over.
“Oh, sorry,” he said hurriedly, putting a hand on the wall to catch himself. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
The person that had nearly knocked him over looked equally as preoccupied as he’d been. “No worries. I feel I should apologize instead. Nearly knocked you over.”
It was a student, Samuel noticed, clad in a dark red robe; marking him as an Adept. Samuel was sure he’d never seen this man before, but there was something… familiar about his face. Something about the easy, open smile lingering on his face as he held out a hand in introduction.
“I’m Otis,” the older student said. “Otis Rainhall.”
Ah. That was why he seemed familiar. He shook Otis’ hand, glad that he hadn’t been annoyed or offended at Samuel’s lack of attention. “Samuel Bragg. Sorry again.”
A look of mild recognition flashed across Otis’ face as Samuel spoke his name. “Wait. Aren’t you the new noble, the one that danced with my cousin Mara?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I’ve heard good things,” Otis said, his smile widening. “Mara thinks you’re quite the gentleman. I’m sorry you had to suffer through Alistair Silver’s rudeness.”
In spite of himself, Samuel let out a short laugh. “You know about that, do you?”
“Of course! Nearly all the nobles are talking about you, you know.”
“Hopefully good things. I don’t think I made a good first impression at that dinner.”
Otis waved a hand dismissing the notion. Samuel noticed that his hand was heavily callused. It was also attached to an arm that was rather muscular; at least more than he’d expect to see for a mage. “Oh, I don’t think you did so badly. I avoided the dinner myself because I didn’t want to witness Alistair bullying another new noble. The man thinks he’s practically king, with all the money his family throws around. He doesn’t seem to understand there’s more to life than money.”
Well, that was a refreshing change of pace, Samuel thought. He had assumed nearly all nobles were sycophantic to Lord Silver. Well, apart from Mara and her father, of course. “So Lord Rainhall is your uncle then?”
“That’s right. My father was his younger brother. Uncle Darren took me in when my father died, and raised me since. He’s sponsoring my studies here at the College.”
Samuel wasn’t sure what he could say in reply to that. If he said the wrong thing, he’d likely offend this friendly older student. And something told him that Otis would be a threatening figure if he wasn’t friendly. Like the hand and arm Samuel had seen, his entire body was broad-shouldered, with a definite leanness that spoke to incredible agility. If it weren’t for the mage robes he wore, Samuel would have thought he was a warrior like Shigeru or Arthur.
“It’s nearly lunchtime,” Otis said, glancing in the direction of the mess hall. “Fancy a chat while we eat?”
Samuel was caught off-guard by the sudden offer, his thoughts still lingering on the information of his father’s death. “Err, what?”
“Come on,” Otis said with a laugh, putting one of his strong arms around Samuel’s shoulder and leading him off to the mess hall. “Now that I’ve met you, I want to get to know you better. I have an idea I want to pass by you, mage to mage.”
“Err,” Samuel said again, not sure why he couldn’t muster coherent sentences at the moment. “I’ve got a paper I was planning on writing for-”
“I’m sure you have time for that later. From what I’ve heard, you’re already beyond most of the other first-years. You need a boost in your education, you do.”
It wasn’t the first time that Samuel had thought of it. Indeed, that was the thing that he’d been distracted by when he’d run into Otis, and the idea was an attractive one. All hesitation gone, he nodded his agreement, following the older student. “I’m just not sure how to do that yet. None of my teachers are interested in teaching me more. They say I have to stick with the class for now.”
“Well, they have to say that. They’ve got nearly thirty students to look after, after all. Most teachers don’t have time to do much else. But Master Astori might just be willing to take you on.”
“The Transmutation Master? But he teaches just as many students as the others, doesn’t he?”
“He does. But past first year, both the students’ and teachers’ schedules open up quite a bit. Master Astori uses his extra time to hold a study group. We all practice together, learning more advanced magicks.”