The next day started uneventfully enough with Elian calling for his Tribulation. He managed to wake up earlier than Borlen and left the camp before anyone could offer to accompany him for his Tribulation. They knew what he was doing because the sound of the impact could reach far in the quiet of the forest. Making excuses was tough. He might have to wake up earlier and earlier each day to avoid Borlen until it’d be before sunrise.
Armor and Health again—his plant symbiont would appreciate it. Remember to visit Floramage Gideon later for a check-up, he thought with a groan. Back to Vigor Hill with way too many people.
Elian examined the aftermath of the Tribulation. He shoved aside the pulverized pieces on the ground with his foot. “These clay tablets aren’t a good idea.”
Since he couldn’t carve on stone and didn’t have the money to pay others to do it, or even just buy ready-made runestones, he thought of writing on clay tablets and then harden them. These didn’t look dry enough; he should’ve put them under the sun for longer. Though it probably wouldn’t matter much against the Tribulation.
Back to the drawing board. He had a couple of days to think of the next thing to test because he wouldn’t do his early-morning Tribulation routine tomorrow. He’d save it up for a hunt after his classes. By then, he expected to level up and gain the last Favor Point for the Elder Giant’s Curse and, if he was lucky, he could sell whatever quarry he’d kill.
Passing through the streets of the Cauldron, Elian saw signs that the day might not be as uneventful as he expected.
Pilgrims wearing red robes flocked around preachers singing praises of Faridar. Red banners went up along the road. Shouting matches between red robes and other pilgrim groups smoldered here and there. Guards dispersed them before anything untoward happened, telling the noisy factions to take their arguments outside the walls.
“What was that?” Elian slowed down to listen to a Faridar follower, publicly and very loudly praying on top of a stack of crates. The owner of the boxes of vegetables yelled for the red-robed man to come down, but the latter continued with his prayer.
“—and guide our Champion Penitent Faridar in meeting the strike from the heavens! We ask of you…”
“So that’s what it’s all about,” Elian said, walking away. “Faridar is going to match the high score of Tharguras. Seems like it’s happening today. No wonder these red guys are so busy.”
Recalling the Tribulation of Tharguras, Elian guessed that Faridar’s followers remaining on the hills should be preparing for the triumphant arrival of their Champion Penitent. Of course, that was assuming Faridar would succeed. He and his other followers must be in that huge clearing an hour away from the hills, preparing for the Tribulation. Elian was tempted to cut classes—something he had done a few times in his college days—to watch Faridar’s Tribulation. But if mingling amongst the fans of a fierce rival sports team was a bad idea, even more so in this case. He wasn’t wearing blue, but many people knew he was with Borlen’s group.
Even on Immaterial Hill, the least populated of the six hills around the main temple, red robes scurried around. A couple approached Elian to share their word about something he didn’t care about. He politely told them he’d come to the main temple later before they could start their speech.
He wasn’t going to, of course. Though he wanted to see who Faridar was, his hatred of crowds won out. It was a relief to reach the garden of Creation Trees inside the school.
Jadewell’s progress yesterday pulled others to improve faster. There was the inspiration aspect, but having a student explain to other students was the more helpful part. Study groups saved Elian’s ass more times than he could count during his college days.
Elian recalled a story he heard from a motivational speaker during a company teambuilding he was forced to attend. For the longest time, runners thought it was impossible to run a mile in four minutes. Athletes tried for decades and failed. And then one guy managed to run a four-minute mile. Suddenly, others could do it too and records were broken left and right. Physical versus psychological barriers. Applicable more so for Aether Magic where the only limitation was the mind.
Only limitation. And yet, it was a vast desert to be traversed on foot with no water—this was how the Sarhat King explained it. The human lifespan was too short and too troubled to gain enlightenment and wield Aether like a god.
Elian didn’t need to be a god. His goal was to make constructs to defend against both physical and magical attacks. He’d stay in this school until his Manifested Armor was decent enough before resuming his travels to gather Boons, skills, and equipment.
Thorren let out a triumphant roar from somewhere to the back of the garden. He showed off two spheres of either.
“Wonderful work, Thorren,” Varmisal said, clapping without sound as usual. “How is everyone else doing?”
I’ll show off a bit tomorrow, Elian decided. Since the class has progressed, he shouldn’t be left behind. Maybe he could make a tiny shield or could go for something more intricate like a helmet. For now, he took advantage of Varmisal’s attention on him, the supposed laggard of the class.
Varmisal’s shimmering summons brought more scrolls and books. The lessons were different compared to what Elian learned in Sarhat. Made it all the more interesting.
“Remember not to tighten your core or hold your breath as you gather Aether,” Varmisal said. “A tranquil mind and body are the key. Momentarily remove problems from your mind. I know we all have burdens, but it’s not as if you’re slated to save the world. Put your burden down for now.”
Elian struggled to keep his face straight. His mission wasn’t technically saving the world. Just all of humanity. Less pressure, he sarcastically thought.
Varmisal gestured at the open books on the grass. “Alternate between these three illustrations to see which helps map your mind’s path the most. A sensation of freeness will confirm the one best suited for you. Continue as you are. I’ll return later to check your progress.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Varmisal would be surprised if he knew Elian could gather Aether in three points now, two of which were inside the pouch he was sitting on. Gathering Aether out of sight was already hard enough; not using his hand as a focal point upped the difficulty. He was sure he succeeded in doing it because he felt pointy things under his butt. A cube was his goal, but it turned out differently because he couldn’t see his construction.
“On second thought,” he mumbled, dispelling whatever was poking his behind, “I shouldn’t gather Aether under me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jadewell looking his way. She had been doing it for several minutes. What was she thinking about? Did she see herself in him? Elian being the supposed last in class must’ve triggered bad memories in her. He faced her, hoping to make friends and someday connect with the family of Aether mages.
Their eyes met. She turned away and shifted to the side, hiding behind a Creation Tree trunk.
So much for making friends.
“Are you going to the Stage of Devotion?” Elian asked Thorren at the end of their class. The other students were in a hurry to leave for some reason, with Jadewell pulling off her patented disappearing technique.
“No, I promised my cousins to not do consecutive Tribulations,” Thorren replied. “Always rest and prepare for the next Tribulation even if I wasn’t hurt during the previous one. But even without my promise, I won’t go today because there won’t be any people there. Have you heard that Penitent Faridar is attempting his two hundred and seventy-ninth Tribulation? It’s over by this point, I reckon.”
“Ah, right,” Elian said. That was why the other students immediately left. Wouldn’t want to be caught up in the crowd for hours. “People will be at the main temple to celebrate… if Faridar succeeded. Do you think he did?
“More than likely. When his rivalry when Tharguras began, Faridar was thought by many to be the stronger one. Note that I’m merely repeating what I’ve heard from others. I haven’t attended any of their Tribulations. I avoided witnessing any Tribulations until I came here and received the Magistrate’s Boon.”
Elian wanted to ask about Thorren’s last sentence but decided there were better things to do than dig up someone’s painful past. And so, Elian made his way to Vigor Hill. Since his destination was on the opposite side of the main temple, he had to take the long way around the other hills to avoid the masses clogging up the central pathways.
“Looks like Faridar did it,” Elian said, stopping in the middle of an empty bridge to gaze at the streaks of red rising into the orange, blossoming into gigantic crimson flowers of light. “Wow, their noise even reaches—what?”
He snapped his head to the right. He felt somebody’s gaze on him.
The bridge was empty other than a groff-drawn wagon coming into view as it went over the crest of the hill. They couldn’t have been looking at him a couple of seconds prior. The swaying grass lining the sides of the road wasn’t tall enough to hide someone, nor were the thin trees spaced along the bridge wide enough.
“I must be tired from gathering Aether the whole day,” Elian said with a shrug.
Cancel his planned all-nighter meditation. He should keep in mind that his body was fresh from Earth, not a body that had trained and fought for fifteen years on Fellenyr. He shouldn’t push himself too much.
An upside of the festivities at the temple was that it drew people away from Vigor Hill. Elian was all smiles, almost skipping as he walked the less-crowded-but-still-with-many-people streets. In no time, he reached the part of Vigor Hill that always had no people whether or not there were events elsewhere.
Floramage Gideon lived here, so it wasn’t exactly devoid of people. Elian was there too.
And whoever was following him.
Good thing I didn’t bring money today, Elian thought. Or maybe he should’ve brought money to buy something to help him sleep better.
The hooded floramage was waiting for Elian inside his carriage. He excitedly unwrapped Elian’s bandaged arm as if it were a present. He advised Elian to keep silent as he assessed the plant symbiont’s growth, muttering gibberish to himself as minutes ticked by.
“I have a proposition for you,” said Gideon, removing his hood after he seemingly finished the examination. “There is this—”
“Wait a minute.” Elian had laid his right arm on the table, the bandages undone and the seed’s light flickering.
“I understand your apprehension at my—”
“Not that.” Elian pointed at Gideon’s head. “Did you leave your hood on the entire time you were examining my arm just so you can pull it off now?”
Gideon laughed. “Makes for quite a scene, doesn’t it? I’m an unregistered floramage doing Magistrate knows what experiments by my lonesome. Let me have my entertainment once in a while.”
“Sure, sure,” Elian said, chuckling along. This Gideon was quite an interesting fellow. “What was that proposition?”
“Your symbiont is growing as it should, though in the lower range of measurements. Germination was a success. Rooting is the problem. Your body is much tougher than I expected. The amount of acid I used the other day wasn’t sufficient, oddly enough. I was certain of my calculations. However, it’s as if your body grew more durable by the day.”
Oops, Elian thought. “Can you drop more acid then? I’d rather not experience it, but I also don’t want this entire effort to be wasted. The acid shouldn’t affect the plant, right?”
Gideon shook his head. “This is too late a stage now. Your shifting flesh would disturb its roots. My recommendation is a more aggressive nutrient solution regimen.”
“Let’s do that then.” Elian raised a brow at the Floramage. “But I’m sensing you’re going to say that we can’t. I suppose this is where your proposition comes in?”
“Indeed, dear test subject—I mean, customer. I lack certain ingredients for the concoctions I wish to administer.”
“Is this a scam rearing its ugly head? If you’re going to make me pay for—”
Gideon held up a hand. “I’ll acquire the ingredients out of my pocket. Only the cost of the seed is what I’ll charge you, as agreed. A very steeply discounted cost, may I remind you. No, what I need your help with is collecting ingredients not found in the market. The month of Godwanu is when the Spectral Fairy Azalea blooms. For only a few days does its flower open to the world, after which it wilts and is useless. This is the reason this ingredient is unavailable. It has to be picked fresh at a specific time and used almost immediately.”
Spectral Fairy Azalea? Elian had come across that in his herbalism studies. What Gideon said was true. “And you want me to collect this plant? Why not hire someone to do that?”
Gideon had a sly smile. “Are you going to shoulder the cost? No? And I’d rather keep the flower’s location a secret from third parties. The acquisition involves peril. If it didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked for your help. Do you accept?”
Elian shrugged. “The school closes the Magistrate’s sabbath. That’s two days from now. I’ll get this flower for you.”