Anima magic. Based on the elements of the world- earth, fire, water, and wind- spells of this type are linked to the definition of knowledge, bending the laws of nature to fulfill the caster's intentions when evoked. One who understands said laws would have little trouble utilizing this power- or so I had assumed.
After finding myself unable to learn most physical arts, I had turned to learning the trinity of magic; however, I could only access anima magic from the organization's armory for some odd reason. I had believed that people with a general lack of strength could instead use spells in their arsenal.
Oh, how uninformed I had been...
Incapable
Deny the inevitable. Loosening the tension in his legs, the tactician fixed his posture and breathed deeply, his eyes closed shut as he steadied an open tome with a reddish-orange cover on his left arm. Deny miracles. Exhaling through his mouth, he tried to clear his mind of any wandering thoughts. Accept logic. He lifted up his right hand to the level of his waist, his fingers straight and his palm facing upwards. "The fire of passion! Call forth orbs upon my path and roast my enemy!"
What he had been told to expect- flames engulfing his thoughts, a rush of warmth flowing through his blood, a fireball hovering over his palm- did not come.
"Too dramatic," a purple-haired male quipped as he sat on his bed. He wore only his dark blue shirt and sepia pants; his brown boots sat silently under his scarlet cloak, which was hanging from a hook nearby. "Read the chant more smoothly and with less emphasis on a particular word."
Giving an annoyed grunt, Mark repeated the procedure. Deny the inevitable. Deny miracles. Accept logic. "The fire of passion! Call forth orbs upon my path and roast my enemy!"
Again, nothing came.
"Ah, passant-!" A coughing fit suddenly overwhelmed him.
"Mark, take a break."
Closing the book and putting it on its owner's bed, he rubbed his throat. "I'll just get some water, then. If you'll excuse me, Master Erk..." Opening the door to the hallway, he stepped out of the room.
The weather today had not improved from yesterday; the angels' sorrows had apparently not lessened. Stuck in the town inn for another day, the advisor had decided to ask the group's mage for help in practicing anima magic. Now, after a number of failed attempts to harness said power, he found himself with a sore throat and a dire need for a nap.
Entering the lobby, he noticed a brunette cleaning glasses behind the counter. Her long brunette hair had braids on both sides of her youthful face, and her attire- a fading light-brown apron over a loose-sleeved shirt and pants of matching color- only emphasized her cuteness; the rumors Sain had heard of her had apparently been well-founded.
"Pardon me, Lady Nina, but may I have-!" He suddenly coughed again, more fiercely than last time.
"A glass of water?" she finished for him.
When the bout subsided, he seated himself on a nearby chair and gave a weak nod. A moment passed before he saw his request fulfilled. Thanking her, he took a few sips before his head hit the surface.
"You don't seem as chipper as yesterday," she quipped.
"I've been through worse- much worse," he replied, losing today's count of the number of times he had already given that answer.
"I hope you feel better."
"Me, too, milady. Me, too..."
Finishing up her wiping of the glasses, Nina left the lobby to tend to other tasks, leaving Mark alone in the area.
Fatigue overwhelming him, he decided to forgo the comfort of his own bed and sleep right then and there on the counter, hugging the folds of his cloak closer to himself.
"Come on, you pansy! Stop slouching!" a red-haired girl barked, slamming the blunt part of her staff into Mark's back.
"Yes, Lady Hiita!" he yelped as he immediately straightened himself. Flexing his right hand, he focused his eyes on the words of the book- as if his glare would set it on fire- before closing his eyes. Deny the inevitable. Deny miracles. Accept logic. "The fire of passion! Call forth orbs upon my path and roast my enemy!"
The grass near him wavered, the sun's rays shone, and a light breeze swooshed past him- but the fireball did not appear.
"Stop doubting yourself!" she yelled. "Deny the darkness of the past! Deny the false hope of the future! Accept the existence of the present!"
"Yes, Lady Hiita!" His body seemed to follow her instructions, but his mind- his heart- was resisting them.
Inevitability, hope, past, future... he couldn't bring himself to disregard them. Accepting the inevitable and the records of the past allowed him to properly prevent repeats of horrendous mistakes; accepting hope and the unpredictability of the future allowed him to see the possibilities of success. Each part of the whole, like the pieces of a chessboard, held value; disregard for this fact only led one to his doom.
Nevertheless, he pushed forward. Closing his eyes, he tried to clear his thoughts.
"Hiita!" Running towards them was a blue-haired girl carrying a sapphire-tipped staff.
Giving a weak chuckle, she said, "Eria, hello-!"
"What are you doing here!?" she asked, frantic. "You're supposed to be helping me with the paperwork!"
"Our guinea pig over there-" she pointed at the brown-haired person standing out of earshot at the tip of the hill- "wanted to learn basic magic, and I thought I had some spare time-"
"Well, you don't!" she interjected. "You're coming with me right now!" She grabbed her sister's ear and twisted it.
"Eek! Mercy! Mercy!" Hiita yelped in pain.
"I swear, sometimes I think you enjoy making me upset!" With that, she dragged her away from the field of grass, leaving the apprentice tactician by his lonesome.
"The fire of passion! Call forth orbs upon my path and roast my enemy!" Opening his eyes, he found himself without a fireball in his hand and alone on the hill. "That's odd; where did Lady Hiita go?"
"She went with Eria," a female voice spoke from behind him.
Turning around, he saw a fern-haired girl standing before him, an emerald-tipped staff and a book with a light-green cover in her hands as the tails of her jackets danced in the wind.
"Good afternoon, Lady Wynn. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Your act is as charming as ever, I see..." she quipped.
"Milady, this is no act," he refuted.
"I wonder about that..." She gave him a sly smile. "In any case, I need your help, 'Monsieur Guinea Pig'."
"Okay, that's just awkward..."
"Says the pseudo-servant," she countered. "Anyway, I developed an experimental spell and was wondering if you could test it for me."
"You're asking this failure of a mage because...?"
"If it works, even you could cast magic, right? After all, this might help out pure beginners, and since you're as novice they come-"
"Surely you jest," he said with a look of incredulousness.
"It's the truth. Well?"
It wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter; he had liked to think that fulfilling the Sisters' favors also saved other poor schmucks from early graves. After mock-pondering for all of two seconds, he answered, "For you, I'd do anything."
She knew he was referring to her status as one of the Sisters, but she considered it as a genuine agreement all the same.
"The chant for this one is 'The winds of change. Call forth blades upon my path and slash my enemy.'" she instructed. "Did you get all that?"
He took a deep breath. "'The winds of change. Call forth blades upon my path and slash my enemy.' Just like that?"
"Perfect. Whenever you're ready, then..." She walked a few steps away from him.
Loosening his tension, he stood upright and controlled his breathing, his eyes closed as he steadied the open book- "Wind", Wynn had labeled it- on his arm. Deny the inevitable. Deny miracles. Accept logic. "The winds of change! Call forth blades upon my path and slash my enemy!"
Wynn had told him to expect a small tornado in front of him, but nothing appeared.
Five, ten, twenty times... no matter how much he had tried, the abilities of the magician wouldn't awaken within him.
Eventually, Wynn approached him and said, "That's enough. It appears this experiment needs more development..." before taking the tome from his hands, disappointment in her voice.
"Mark... Mark..." The mage nudged the advisor's shoulder repeatedly.
He felt strangely refreshed as he awoke from his slumber- save for the stiffness in his back. "Master Erk... Hello."
"You were sobbing in your sleep," he noted. "Are you okay?"
"Huh?" Touching his face, he felt damp trails of tears. Rubbing then off with his sleeve, he replied, "Oh, I'm just peachy..." Looking behind him, he found himself being stared at by the whole of Lyndis's Legion; apparently, suppertime was approaching. "What, is there something in my hair?"
Some shrugged him off and went back to their conversations, while others gave him irked looks; nevertheless, all eyes looked away.
Turning back to Erk, he continued, "Er, about those lessons... I appreciate your assistance, but I've come to realize that magic in general is beyond my capabilities. Forgive me for wasting your time."
"It's alright; at least you realized your limits before it was too late," he replied as he sat next to Mark and patted his shoulder.
'Too late'? "Pardon?" Pressing the issue, he inquired, "What would have happened otherwise?" He had never considered the studying of spells to be a danger in itself.
"My mentor had told me of people who had disgraced the spirits by evoking them incorrectly, thereby provoking them into punishing the casters. Some lost select senses, others their physical body parts... and a few were even cursed with a continual string of misfortunes. For you own safety, I warn you to be careful if you plan on pursuing magic in the future."
Straightening himself, he pushed the end of his cloak behind him to avoid getting it caught between his rear and the oaken surface. "Master Erk, forgive me for saying this, but I refuse to believe that there's such a thing as 'incapability'."
"Well, you should; I highly doubt that my mentor had told me lies."
He mentally flinched. "May Elimine herself appear before me and smite me where I stand, then, for I am no quitter. 'One cannot win if one does not challenge'- a saying my mentor had taught me."
"Quite sure of yourself, aren't you?" the mage hissed.
"Never surer!" the tactician exclaimed.
They leered at each other for a few seconds, trying to stare each other down... until they burst into laughter. A friendly joust of words the conversation had spiraled into.
When the duo lowered their voices, Erk asked, "I guess only time will reveal the one in the right, huh...?"
"I guess so," Mark replied.
Only later did I learn that though it hadn't been word-for-word, that blasted mage had been in the right...
Yes: A slacker I am, through and through.