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Chapter Twenty-Five: An Experience Shared with Dimwits
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Spells were easy enough once the basics were known, though Kilvic wasn’t certain which was the easier of both requirements: infusing the words with reia or finding the words that attended the mind.
Lunch had ended a while ago, and following his request, Moss and Stratin had left for their lesson without him. And now he was left to rearrange the things in his possession almost appalled at how he’d waited so long to get things done. He held up the bottle of wine gifted for Drespard’s tale and put it to the side, beneath his bed, before returning to his sack and retrieving three silver coins, the reason he was here. Holding them palm up he wondered if perhaps this was a waste of silver, and if the other options open to him would be better substitutes. He had to conserve his finances, but then again, he had to conserve his reputation. He sighed. That was more than enough to make his decision. And wrapping up his sack, he placed the coins in his pocket and walked
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Alone with Gyra, the head student turned to Kilvic.“How long has this been happening?”“Since a month after I arrived,” Kilvic answered simply.“And you haven’t handled it because…” Gyra trailed, giving him the space to complete it.“Because there are three of them and all better fighters than I am.”Gyra shook his head. “There are many ways to fight as a mage,” he said. “And I do recall you hold claim to being a decent spell caster.”“That wouldn’t have helped.”“And why not?”Kilvic let his posture slacken with the pain and answered. “Fan probably throws more punches in a day than any of my class mates, Anuvia has a possible affinity with two elements, and Chazriv can spell cast in four different languages.”“And they’re picking on you?” Gyra asked, flummoxed. “I assume
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It was barely an hour past midnight when Kilvic rose from his bed. Soartin and Moss had fallen into their slumber the moment their heads had touched their beds on their return to the hostel and they remained that way. The day must have been especially hectic for them because Soartin had forgone his ritual of taking his evening bath. Moss on the other hand had done nothing different. He’d put his head on his bed and had slept as if drugged. The fact that he’d left his uniform on was the only real indication of his stress.Kilvic made his way out of the room quietly. To wake his roommates would hinder his plans, and he couldn’t have them hindered. What he sought to do was more important than they could possibly imagine. Downstairs he stopped, his gaze glancing towards the kitchen. There was much that could help him in there. It was a tempting thought, a very tempting one. He shook his head. He didn’t need anything he would find in there. He simply wanted
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Kilvic gave his attention to his surroundings from his place at their table. Ariadne had done well to be useful as he had required. However, she had done so to prove a point he didn’t need proving. An apology was in order as agreed but she would not be getting it any time soon. Right now he needed to play the part she had allotted him. The part she had allotted them. Across the table she fidgeted, her eyes darting around curiously. How had she known the guard at the door would take pity on two young ones saddened by a disagreement between their parents to allow their courtship, he wondered. He had never been deluded by how much he was capable of. He’d always known he had more to learn, especially in the art of human communication, and now she’d shown him it was far greater than he’d thought. To manipulate people needed a far grander scope. The controlled environment he’d been given had come nowhere close to preparing him. It is why you are here,
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Kilvic’s hand moved with a practiced ease as he worked the piece of rope into a knot, stiff fingers, however, delaying record time achieved from his time spent learning knots in preparation for his departure to the academy in castle Grey. It had seemed imperative that if he was to board a ship he was to learn a thing or two of what sailors knew. He had taken to knots quite quickly, and he still wasn’t certain if the absence of need for his skills on the ship had been disappointing.He finished quickly, slower than he knew he once could but fast enough not to have performed a disgraceful show. When he was done he placed on of the most complex knots he knew down on the table and waited in silence, as his audience had waited while he’d tied his knot.“And who in the name of Zeldric’s bottom feeders is you?” one of the four sailors asked. He was a big man with a barrel of a chest and at least two broken teeth Kilvic could note. His hair
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“You know it’s not the same, right?”Moss let out a soft chuckle. “And you are pointing this out because…?” he replied.A startled Stratin quirked an unsubtle brow. His hands were held out before him, the littlest flicker of air swirling between them. This, as had been a good number of times over the semester, was another one of their attempts at bound magecraft.“This isn’t true, as it should be,” Stratin pointed out. “This isn’t bound. It’s a mixture, not a compound.”Moss shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean, but to that I’d say let’s create mixtures till we can create a compound.”Stratin pouted but it seemed that was the end of his opposition to it.All the while Kilvic stood at a safe enough distance, watching his roommates attempt something less deadly than what they’d been doing for a good while. He wasn’t certain
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Stratin’s cry ebbed like a dying siren. It did not cut off abruptly as most do on the onset of unconsciousness. No. It drained gently, dissipating as the light in Kilvic’s hand. It would dim to nothing more than a sob, then there will be silence, then there will be nothing but simple breaths. Kilvic saw himself looking forward to it. At least, if anything, it would bring silence. And silence was always the best state to work with; it enhanced concentration. Surprisingly Moss was as quiet as the evening breeze. The boy almost seemed accepting of some kind of twisted fate, though Kilvic spared him no attention. His curiosity of Stratin’s ability to come back from this lurked at the back of his mind, like shadows at the edge of a dying light. It was something they would find out once the boy woke. Ariadne... Kilvic looked up at an unconscious Stratin seated back against the hostel’s wall… will not like this.Kilvic returned his at
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Stratin had begun sweating sometime in the last five minutes so much so that he was beginning to soak his bed. Five minutes and Kilvic had still been unable to come to a conclusion. He had pondered on as many possibilities as he could. All the while Moss sat with his head in his hands. His shirt was now as dry as could be and some vestige of himself was returning. But the guilt still remained in him, evident in the constant slump in his shoulders and refusal to make eye contact. If only he was more useful. Kilvic found himself missing Jarax’s company. If he’d been here an answer would’ve been born a while ago.He didn’t need to touch Stratin to know he was running a temperature. A fever had long since conquered the boy, if not, then its conquest was long on the way. It was only a matter of time before they would need to take him to the infirmary to save his life, and put themselves in trouble. It would be a blight on the academic record Kilvic was dete
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A few days later Stratin regained full control of his faculties. He awoke a few minutes after Kilvic had broken the link with his light. For the sake of secrecy, Kilvic kept his silence when he woke. He asked Stratin nothing of the pure light. He asked him nothing of what he’d done or why he’d done it. He told him nothing of what had been done to keep his life here, fixed in his body. He said nothing on the subject.In the early days after his recovery, classes were a special kind of ordeal. Stratin’s way with the sword delved head first into the realm of sloppiness. His moves contained all the determination but lacked all the precision. His body, it proved, no longer listened to him as it should. He suffered for it. Grunald had never seemed more displeased at anyone before, and he voiced it in as many harsh and disappointed words as he knew.Haru’s class was were Stratin’s suffering grew. He failed at executing every form. Each blow direc
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Moss said nothing for a moment, and Kilvic continued to stare out at the arena, at their hall mates training. Lacra remained powerful, her attacks brutal. But Gyra remained standing, bracing against her charges, casting aside spells where he would, evading where he would. The boy was powerful for one his age.When Moss spoke he sounded more confused than irate. “It’s how you say these things with a straight face that’s creepy. I don’t know if you are angry, bored or worried. Which is it?”Kilvic thought about it briefly. It was a logical question. Why had he said it when he hadn’t needed to? Moss had given him a piece of advice, and he’d given one in return. Was it the reference to the magi that had spurred him to speak. Yes, the magi were what mages were called in the older times when they had engaged in combat from a distance. They were mages who had failed once their opponents engaged them in the melee, something very simila
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“Did we win?” Stratin broke the silence that enveloped the arena, voice panting. “Did we?”Kilvic spared him a solitary glance. Did it matter? There had been four of them against one of her. Though victory should be taken in whatever form it came, this was a victory he cared nothing for. If your life was truly at stake you would. Kilvic almost frowned at his own thought. It was right. Still…He sighed. “Yes, we won.”As if released from a spell, Stratin slumped to the ground in relief.Ahead of them Fyodan approached. Behind them, Moss lumbered along damaged bones no doubt mending themselves. The amount of reia required to create, and operate such an arena needed to be greatly vast. Here, unlike the arena used for the winter hall fest, death was not circumvented. But a vast room that could heal wounds on the scale of even broken bones in mere minutes was powerful… too powerful.&ld
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Ariadne was staring.“He talks in your minds?” she said, again, in disgust. “How do you allow that.”“He’s strong,” Stratin offered mildly. “I couldn’t shake him.”Moss shrugged. “Me neither.”To Moss, she replied, “Any oaf with half a brain could see that. You have the will power of a dead fish, Moss.” She turned her attention to Kilvic. “And you?”“He had something to say.” Kilvic thought about it, then changed his answer. “I thought he had something to say. But he was also helping me spar.”Ariadne raised a brow. “How?”“Pointing out my weaknesses. Showing me where I should’ve capitalized.”“Moss could help you with that. Heck, Lacra would be more than happy if Gyra refuses.”“Gyra has offered,” Stratin pointed out.Ariadne turned to him. &
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Kilvic staggered backwards, his body held incline into a fall. His feet were the only things that kept him up. Counting away in multiple minute steps, they kept him up, kept him from the fall as he pushed away, increasing the distance. The deadman’s walk came easier to him now. Of all the moves they were taught, it came the easiest, the simplest. Perhaps it was his favorite now. Perhaps not. It definitely kept him away from the pain. After three breaths he staggered into position, returned into a defensive form.Naralayn had done much to remain his sparring partner, but ever since Stratin had proved more sufficient it had become harder for the young noble to choose him for a partner. Naralayn did not cease in his attempts though, until their instructor determined having Naralayn as a sparring partner was not good for the young noble’s development. So, today, Kilvic found Sharmin as his sparring partner. And Sharmin was an easier opponent to survive agains
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“Same as last year.” Lacra made a grunting sound like gravels scraping. She coughed, turned her head to the side, and spat out a blob of blood stained spittle. “Same as last fucking year.”She was seated on the sand. Her tattered clothes did not leave much for imaginations, but the necessary parts were covered and she cast the perfect look of a warrior from battle. Gyra and Kilvic stood in front of her. Around them the others were beginning to rise groggily. It had been roughly fifteen minutes since Lacra had surrendered and Kilvic noted her injuries were gone, completely healed. He turned his head to Fyodan where he stood, the first to come to his feet. Behind him the crack in the arena wall was also gone. Healing or reconstructive, he wondered. They did not have an arena like this in castle Grey. They did not have an arena that fixed itself… or those within it.Its effects were slow, but each of the students were comin
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