CHAPTER 5
Part 2: Arcus Raytheft, Age 12
It had been two years since the aethometer's initial announcement, and
Arcus was now twelve years old. He had grown (a little bit), and his frame
had become just a touch more masculine. As usual, his facial features were a
different matter, and he still often glared at himself in the mirror. His Adam's
apple was still nowhere to be seen, and his eyes were large and bright, framed
with long eyelashes.
It was getting to the point where Arcus suspected he might be cursed.
Nowadays he had more time to poke and pinch at his cheeks in front of the
mirror, much as he knew it wouldn't make a difference. Unlike his face, the
environment around Arcus was slowly changing. He'd asked Craib to pass an
aethometer on to Lecia, and in a stroke of luck, none of his fears surrounding
the gift had materialized. Craib never answered Joshua when he asked who
made it, and the device itself still hadn't leaked into public knowledge. Arcus
was satisfied, too, that Joshua wasn't taking his frustrations out on his sister,
aside from having her work just a little harder than before. If he did, Lecia
would likely tell Arcus so.
Arcus didn't get to see as much of his sister as he used to, and it was as
much to do with the increased intensity of her education as the fact that she
was expected to participate more actively in noble gatherings, from salons to
parties to simple dinners with the Raythefts' branch families. Other houses
were already recognizing her magical aptitude, and based on that alone, her
place as the future head of the Raytheft house was practically confirmed at
this point.
Arcus himself had less time and more responsibilities now, many of
which were linked to the aethometer. Often he was out or staying at his
uncle's place, so he only met with Lecia around once a month, if that. Her
parents being around as much as they were didn't help matters either.
During the past couple of years, Arcus had also started exchanging letters
with Charlotte Cremelia, eldest daughter to the count and one of the girls he
saved from the marquess. It was her idea, and the first letter was sent as soon
as the excitement around the aethometer started to die down. Letters were the most convenient form of communication for them, both because they were
busy, and because it was easier than meeting in person, considering their
houses' circumstances.
Charlotte was fourteen. The Royal Institute of Magic accepted students
from the age of thirteen, so she had been studying there for a whole year now.
Though not a magician herself, she was learning how to hold her own against
them, and was still keeping up with her fencing training. She had already
challenged Arcus to a duel in their letters too. Despite her ladylike
appearance, there was no mistaking the fiery spark in her military blood.
As for Arcus himself, he was still making good use of the aethometer,
and things were going well for him. He was still studying the Ancient
Chronicles and testing out all kinds of magic. He also managed to save up a
fair bit of money, thanks in no small part to the reward granted to him by the
Magician's Guild.
Right now, he was having Noah and Cazzy scour the capital to find him a
place to live. Arcus felt it was about time he left the Raytheft estate for good,
and he couldn't just impose on his uncle forever either. Even if he needed to
use Craib's place to carry on his work with the aethometer, he wanted a
separate, permanent home to call his own, and if his vast savings weren't
enough, he could just borrow some more money. If that didn't work, then all
he needed to do was sell some of his spells or tricks to the Guild. He was
going to get his dream home somehow, and he was expecting it to be sooner
rather than later.
Aside from magic, he was also making progress with his brewing. He
followed the book's instructions over and over, trying to make the perfect
product. Appearance-wise, at least, he seemed to be succeeding. He was still
borrowing Craib's basement, both for the brewing itself and the storage of his
products. The seals in the walls there had kept the place cool and the
humidity stable for the entire year. He also engraved the barrels with the
suggested seals from Klin Botter's guide, which made it easier for the
mixture to ferment. Everyone who came down here said the same thing: that
they had never seen so many seals all in one place.
Arcus was in the cellar again that day, and he removed the lid from one
of his barrels, revealing the drink within. It was separated into two layers.
The top layer was clear, while the liquid underneath was white and cloudy
and spotted with sediment. This bottom layer made up around eighty percent
of the barrel's content. The most popular drinks in this world included mead,
ale, and wine, but Arcus's product reminded him more of vodka, gin, or sake.
If he wanted to make sake, that bottom layer would need to be pressed—but
for the moment, that was neither here nor there. To be honest, Arcus had expected much less of his foray into brewing, and was quite pleased with
himself.
"It's come out really well."
He did everything according to the book. He used the right ingredients,
regulated the temperature, mixed it periodically, and let it brew for just the
right amount of time. Arcus was satisfied that his beverage was ready. He
was admiring his work when he heard two pairs of footsteps coming down
into the cellar.
Arcus turned to find his two attendants at the bottom of the stairs. The
first was a young man in his early twenties, whose beauty was almost
feminine in nature. His indigo hair was cut into a bob, with the left side
barely reaching his shoulder and the right side plaited into a braid. He wore a
monocle over his right eye and a rapier on his hip. With his black morning
coat, he was the perfect picture of a stereotypical butler.
The second servant had dark hair gelled all the way back and the face of
a troublemaker. He was either in his early thirties or his late twenties. His
eyes, which held tiny irises, were narrow and slanted upwards at the ends,
and his mouth was permanently twisted into a scornful smile. The buttons on
his shirt remained open until decency demanded otherwise, and there was too
large a gap between the knot on his tie and his neck. He wore a scarf on his
arm and on his hip, a ring of keys. There was also a smaller object that
jangled alongside them, although its purpose was unclear at first glance.
"Hey, Noah. Cazzy."
His servants were Noah Ingvayne and Cazzy Guari.
Cazzy's face crumpled into a frown. "What the heck are ya doin' down
'ere?"
"Just flexing my creative muscles."
"Ay?"
"I'm making stuff," Arcus clarified.
Now and then, he had the tendency to use idioms from the man's world
that were unfamiliar to the inhabitants of Lainur by accident. Though he was
trying to get out of the habit, it was sometimes hard to come up with a
suitable alternative.
Noah stepped up behind Arcus and peered into the barrel. "Ah, these
must be the ingredients which I fetched for you. What precisely are you
making here?"
"Alcohol."
"What?! As if ya know how to make that!"
"I do know! I've already made some!"
"Ya don't even know what the stuff tastes like!" Cazzy let out an
exasperated sigh.
Arcus would probably react the exact same way to any other twelve-year-
old trying to brew.
Noah let out a deep sigh of his own. "I let you out of my sight for a few
seconds, and you drive yourself instantly to drink..."
"It's not that bad. I'm not even drinking it; I'm making it."
"Naturally. You wouldn't be allowed to buy it, after all. Your sins are
twofold."
Personally, Arcus thought he was going a bit far. It wasn't like he was
kidnapping girls to cover up his political corruption, after all. He did feel a bit
guilty about avoiding alcohol duty—but that didn't even exist in this world,
and if he wasn't drinking this stuff, he technically wasn't doing anything
wrong. Depending on the territory, it was also common to add alcohol to
drinks as a preservative.
"Look, this is just a little side project," Arcus insisted.
"You have gone to rather extreme lengths for something like that."
You only had to look around the cellar to know he was right. Not only
the walls, but every last piece of equipment was covered in seals. It was hard
to find a spot that was completely clear of them. Even Cazzy was speechless
as his eyes darted around the room.
"So, are you continuing your work on this project today?" Noah asked.
"Not quite. It's actually finished, so I was hoping you guys could taste
test it for me."
"Oh?"
Arcus picked up a cup he brought with him and scooped some of the
upper layer into it. He held it up to his servants, causing Cazzy to break into
his usual crooked grin.
"You go first!" He cackled.
"Very well." Noah took the cup from Arcus and brought it to his lips,
taking a sip. "Oh. I say."
Arcus watched him carefully. Noah's hand was pressed over his mouth,
and there was a hint of surprise in his eye.
Arcus was hopeful this was a good reaction, but he asked just in case.
"How is it?"
"Delicious. Unfortunately, I am not well-versed enough in the art of
wine-tasting to give you a much more detailed description than that..."
Arcus was pleased that even someone as articulate as Noah was unable to
describe his creation, whether or not he was a bit of a teetotaler.
"Is it different from white wine?" Cazzy asked.
"It is."
"What about akvavit?"
"Quite different. It is not so obviously alcoholic, and has a mild
sweetness to it."
"Ooh..." Cazzy stroked the bottom of his chin thoughtfully.
Arcus prepared another cup and held it out to him. "Here."
"I'll go last."
It was Arcus's turn, then. He gave it a try.
"Whoa!"
A soft fragrance enveloped his tongue. That delicate flavor then started to
melt and release a smooth yet keen sweetness. Somehow, the sharpness of the
sugary taste made it all the more intense. It was incomparable to sake,
whiskey, or even wine. From time to time, there was even a hint of milkiness
to it. It was unlike anything Arcus had experienced before.
"Damn, this is some fine tasting hooch!"
The man from Arcus's dream wasn't exactly big on drinking, but even
through his limited experience, Arcus knew he had something good here.
Even in that world, where the alcoholic beverages were far more varied, he
had never come across something like this. He felt like he could drink the
entire barrel and not get sick of it.
"Would you repeat that, Master Arcus?" Noah asked dryly.
"Huh? Oh, um. I mean, it's, uh, very nice."
"I see."
Again, he had accidentally used some of the man's vocabulary. Noah
seemed to be getting used to it. Once he asked for clarification, he usually
just nodded vaguely when it was given.
Finally, Arcus passed Cazzy his portion.
"Huh. Smells like fruit."
"Wow, sounds like you know your stuff."
"I sure do. Ya gotta know it to enjoy it. Makes ya look impressive, as
well!" Cazzy cackled to himself before taking a sip. His eyes widened. "This
is good!"
"I thought so!"
"Makes everything else I ever drank taste like crap. Actually, given the
budget I used to drink on, I'm probably only half jokin'. Maybe as little as
one-third..."
Cazzy downed the remaining contents of his cup before letting out a
satisfied sigh.
"It's nice 'n' sweet, but not in a way I've tasted before." Even the usual
smirk had been wiped from his face.
Arcus wasn't about to admit that the secret ingredient was a suspicious
plant he'd imbued with magic. They continued to drink, little by little.
"Hey, guys," Arcus said.
"What is it?"
"Doesn't drinking this make you feel like you've got a little more aether
than normal?"
"Aether?"
"I used a lot of it training today, but I kinda feel replenished now..."
Noah and Cazzy paused thoughtfully.
"Now that you mention it..."
"Yeah, I can feel it, too!"
It was such a subtle change, Arcus worried it was just his imagination,
but his servants felt it too. In Arcus's case, he had so little aether to start with,
any change in it was obvious to him. Suddenly, he was struck with an idea.
"Wait! What if you drank this after you used up a whole ton of aether?!"
You would be able to replenish your stocks in an instant. Noah and
Cazzy, however, weren't as enthusiastic.
"It would indeed replenish the aether you lost..." Noah began.
"...But you'd have to drink barrels of the stuff!" Cazzy concluded.
"You guys are right..."
Arcus had to admit it was unrealistic. From the increase in aether he felt,
and quickly putting together some sums in his head, a single flask could net
you around 400 to 500 mana of extra aether. Drinking that much would make
you pass out before you could cast another spell, and get you a healthy dose
of alcohol poisoning.
"Guess it's just a yummy drink, then."
"Hey, this tastes great, though. Doesn't hafta be a super magic potion or
nothin' on top of that."
Cazzy was right. In the first place, Arcus was only looking to
successfully brew something that was drinkable. It should be enough, he
assured himself, that he managed to do just that.
"How about I pay you in drink, then?" Arcus said to Cazzy.
"Sure thing. I could make a killin' if I sold it off!" He cackled.
"Sell it..." Arcus repeated thoughtfully. "I wanna get my uncle to try
some too, though."
"I would caution against it. The moment that drunkard catches wind of
this, you shall have none left, either to sell or to enjoy for yourself."
"Yeah, that's kinda what I was worried about."
"Right," said Cazzy, "the old geezer does look like he could drink the
whole damn country under the table."
It wouldn't help that Arcus's drink was so delicious, either. It would
probably drive any career inebriate crazy the moment they took a sip.
"Maybe I'll just give him a little bit and pretend that's all I've got."
"Wonderful. Then he shall press you incessantly for the details as to
where you obtained it, and you shall be umming and ahhing until you cannot
possibly keep it a secret any longer."
"You're getting way too specific there..."
"Oh? So I am correct?" Noah raised his eyebrow half an inch.
The only answer Arcus could give was "yes," so he said nothing at all.
"Well then, Master Arcus. Have you got a name for your concoction?"
Noah asked.
"Soma wine," Arcus replied.
"Soma wine?"
That was what Klin Botter called it in his guide to whatever-it-was.
Though the way it was brewed and its effects reminded Arcus of some of the
liquors described in legends in the man's world, it didn't seem mystical
enough to compare. In any case, he was glad he managed to complete it.
What remained was deciding what to do with it, but he could take his time on
that front.
"Damn, it's so good!"
"I must agree..."
Even as he picked through his thoughts, Cazzy kept on gulping the stuff
down and Noah sipped on it elegantly. At this rate, it would all be gone
before Arcus even decided on a use for the stuff. As his servants drank, Arcus
scooped out some of the white dregs from the bottom of the barrel and
wrapped them in a clean cloth. He tied it up above a container to catch the
drops of clear liquid that seeped through the material.
"What are you doing there?" Noah asked, a curious glint in his eye.
"Just trying to get what I can before I start doing some more
processing..."
This time, he was going to see if extracting his drink in a different way
would change the taste.
Books were for exploring, not reading. That was what the man's father
always said. You had to be constantly inquisitive to make proper use of your
literacy, first in finding the books that were meant for you to read, then in
properly ferreting out the information you needed from within them, and
lastly in determining the area in your life where you could apply said
information practically. Anything less fell short of "exploring."
It was an easy view to take when the world you lived in had an
abundance of books. It even sounded a little extreme at times, but Arcus
knew what the man's father meant. It was thanks to those words that the man
turned into an avid reader, and it was thanks to that reading that Arcus gained
as much as he had from his dream. He would often thank that man silently for
it.
The utility of the man's knowledge extended far beyond Arcus's magical
studies. It had familiarized him with all the practical, everyday skills of that
other world's adults and given him a well-honed eye for the nuances of
human affairs. Arcus also had a particular talent for taking in information; he
only needed to read or see something once to commit it to memory. On
command, he could recall in perfect detail every book the man had ever read
—or even just skimmed over—and put that information to work.
Arcus was in his uncle's garden, holding up an annotated book of all the
phrases and vocabulary he had taken from the Ancient Chronicles so far. He
was hoping to wring a new spell or two out of it. If he wanted to succeed in
life, broadening his repertoire of spells was indispensable. Power was
important when it came to magic, but so was versatility, and between the two,
only the latter was within his control. Marquess Gaston was only a faint,
passing omen of the threats waiting for Arcus; he meant to be ready when the
next one reared its head.
His biggest problem at the moment was the length of his incantations. It
didn't matter so much if his opponent was also a magician, but the extended
recitations his current spells called for left him open to any quick fool with a
bludgeon or half-competent archer.
He'd considered a couple of stratagems. The first was to wade into close
combat from the jump and resort to spells while the opponent was still
reeling. The other would be to count on allies to hold the enemy off as he prepared his spell on the back lines. The latter idea wouldn't do; he couldn't
count on having cohorts to take hits for him in every situation.
"Looks like I'll have to work on my sword technique..."
The man from Arcus's dream was trained in sword fighting. In the man's
country, it was common to use a bamboo sword when practicing, but the man
preferred using the real thing in his training, as it helped him train his mind at
the same time.
There was a special technique where he unsheathed his sword from a
sitting position that the man would practice again and again, sometimes
cutting through a dummy on top of that. Though not fully trained in actual
combat, the man had an elderly teacher skilled in several sword arts who
drilled the fundamentals into him. Arcus started practicing the same
techniques four years ago and already had a good enough grip on them that
he would soon be able to move on to techniques the man had only read about.
Anyway, right now his focus was magic.
He had a handful of parameters to pin down—whether to develop for
close combat or a front-line substitute, the gritty details of the spell's
function, and whether to build towards a spell with an extended effect or if a
quick, simple, fire-and-forget option deserved his most immediate attention.
In terms of a spell with a long duration, he wanted something more akin to a
defensive spell. His uncle Craib had a few spells in this vein, and so did
Noah; his Frozen Sword of Jacqueline was a perfect example. These spells
required vast swathes of power, so Arcus wasn't sure he could set his sights
so high. With his meager aether reserves, he needed to be constantly vigilant
about each spell's impact on his budget. Using a spell like one of his uncle's
could clean him out in one go.
Realistically, his only way forward was to make his incantations shorter.
It was already common sense to make your incantations as short as possible,
but you could only make them so short before they lost their intended effects.
There were three golden questions you needed to ask yourself when creating
magic. Which phenomenon would the spell make use of? How would the
spell manifest? What effect would the spell have? Without a clear answer to
all three of them, your spell would never be perfected. Once you started
chopping out words, these answers would lose clarity, and no matter what
you did, the spell would become a shadow of its full potential and lose much
of its strength.
Therefore, Arcus needed to come up with a way to make his spell both short and powerful. If he couldn't resort to the usual powerful phrases due to
their length, he would have to rummage through the rarely-used words.
Blaze, blazing, thunder, lightning, blizzard, avalanche...
As standalone words, they were difficult to make behave. They would
either cause out-of-control effects, or cancel out other words, hamstringing
the spell's effect. That wasn't to say their use needed to be avoided at all
costs. If Arcus could find the right words to rein in their effects, then in
theory they could be quite useful. He took his vocabulary book and began to
flick through it.
"Burst..."
"Burst" was a word he discovered in his reading the other day. It came
from the sixth Ancient Chronicle, Demons and Society's Collapse, and was a
word relating to explosions.
"Blazes burst forth. Roar and fall in sheets like rain. Ferocious fires rage
onwards, blocking out the horizon with heat. Keep the grieving cries alive in
their throats. Keep the lamentations forever sounding. Obliterate everything
and return it to ashes. One demon king, Ganjaldie. Leave nothing after our
victory but a wasteland of despair."
This was a spell which described Ganjaldie, the demons' ruler, who
destroyed human civilization with relentless flames, turning it all into a
wasteland. This spell used a fair number of powerful words: roar, ferocious,
obliterate, ashes, forever...
Arcus had no doubt that "burst" was one of these words. However, just
because a word was powerful didn't mean it could constitute a spell all by
itself. To use them, you needed to make your intentions clear and fit them
into an incantation with other words—further complicating matters, using
"burst" in a spell required words powerful enough to restrict its effects, else
Arcus might find his life cut very short indeed.
"If I use this, I can't use that..."
Introducing the appropriate limiter-words threatened to overextend the
syntax and put Arcus right back where he started. If he was going to use
them, he wanted a spell of no more than five words or phrases, each as short
as possible. For that, he would have to resort to a special, creative technique:
Repetition.
Arcus had determined in his research into spell structure that repeating a
word amplified and focused its effect. It wasn't complicated either: you just
needed to use the same word consecutively several times in the incantation.
Using the word three times in a row seemed to be the most effective method;
any longer and diminishing returns kicked in hard. In some ways, its
simplicity could be a magician's downfall. It was tempting just to use any old
word and repeat until it seemed to lose its meaning, but this was pointless.
Keeping that in mind, Arcus put together an incantation.
"Embers. Embers. Embers. Burst."
With that spell, Arcus pictured an explosion around thirty feet in front of
him. Artglyphs rose up around him when he chanted the spell, which then
flew to the spot he was concentrating on. Arcus waited for some kind of
explosion where they gathered, but instead there was just a half-hearted
crackling sound accompanied with puffs of black smoke.
"Dammit..."
Though Arcus cursed under his breath, his failure wasn't necessarily a
bad thing. This much was normal; no spell resolved as intended on the first
attempt. Making a spell was about troubleshooting incantations until a
promising candidate stood out from the prototypes, then polishing it to a
perfect finish. Anything that was too easy to come up with was bound to be
useless in the majority of situations.
Arcus deduced that he tempered the power of "burst" too much on that
attempt. Three uses of "ember" proved more powerful than a single utterance
of "burst." In the first place, he didn't really like the sound of the spell, so he
would have ended up changing it even if it was a success. He decided to go
with something different for his next attempt.
If using the same word too much doesn't work...
This time, he decided to go with words which would allow more of
"burst's" power to come through.
"Embers. Embers. Gather and burst forth."
As before, the Artglyphs rose up and flew to the spot Arcus was focused
on. When they reached their destination, they were torn apart in a tiny
explosion that was no more violent than a firecracker. There was no real fire
or heat behind it, and offensively speaking, it was useless. It wouldn't even
make the opponent flinch. Besides, Arcus already had a spell to make people
jump—a cheeky little number he called "Bewildering Bubble."
"I guess it wasn't too bad. I mean, it did kinda explode..."
He decided to scrap the repetition angle, since it seemed to be holding
him back. He needed some way to hold back the full power of "burst," of
course, but it was clear the combination of word choice and repetition wastaking the legs out from under the spell; he doubted he would get a proper
explosion out of it at this rate.
What should I try next?
Arcus had to start by keeping the effects and the power small, so that he
could keep his spell under control. That meant adding several words to
weaken the incantation. He decided to swap out the "embers" each for a
different word—ideally ones that rolled off the tongue better. That also meant
refining the image he had of the spell's effects in his mind.
Unlike before, where the Artglyphs were scattered about, he imagined
them joining together and forming a magic circle. That would be the
precursor to the explosion. The circle would then contract to focus on the
target before creating a centralized explosion. That circle would focus on
only one person, but the explosion could catch up to four or five more. For
the first trial, Arcus picked a nearby rock in the garden.
Let's see how it goes!
Arcus opened his mouth, hoping this would be a success.
"Infinitesimal. Join. Focus. Burst gently!"
Artglyphs rose up around him and wove themselves into a ring before
turning into a thicker circle. Aether overflowed from them like ink, drawing
lines, circles, and shapes, which joined together to fill in the details of the
magic circle. It contracted around the rock, like it was squeezing it tightly. It
was just as Arcus imagined. Just when it looked like it couldn't get any
tighter, the magic circle crumpled in on itself.
Then, red and orange flames whooshed out of it, followed by a plume of
black smoke. The shock wave of the explosion smashed into Arcus's body all
at once. For a second, all he could feel was heat. The rumble of the explosion
suddenly vanished, replaced with a high-pitched ringing sound. The stench of
smoke filled his nostrils, and in front of him lay a great gouge in the earth.
The rock was smashed into pieces.
Arcus looked up to see fragments of Artglyphs flying into the air
between reams of black smoke.
"It worked! It really worked!"
Arcus was absolutely elated. He wasn't in as much control of the
explosion as he would have liked, but this was the closest result to what he
envisioned so far. Three words and one short phrase. He never saw another
spell this powerful with such a short incantation. Restricted by the length, the
spell would never be anything more sophisticated than a powerful explosion,
but that was enough. It wasn't as quick to resolve or as wide-ranging as
Flamlarune, but it was certainly just as strong, if not stronger. It was very
economical in terms of aether, too, thanks to its length.
Arcus could barely contain the excitement he felt at creating such a
useful spell. The enduring process of trial and error made the results that
much more satisfying when you got it right; here lay all the joy of spell
development. From now on, he would focus on wringing the greatest possible
effect from the shortest possible incantation.
He would prefer if the explosion wasn't so loud, though.
"Maybe I should make some earplugs using seals or something..." Arcus
folded his arms and began to think, even as the joy from his success
continued to pulse through him.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"U-Uncle? What's the matter?"
Arcus spun around to find Craib grinning at him. It was a wider grin than
he'd ever seen him don before. A chill ran up his spine. His instincts were
warning him that Craib was mad. Very mad, though the question of why
escaped him.
"Listen, it's great to see you havin' fun, but could you at least try not to
do stuff like... that?"
"Stuff like... Oh."
Craib was looking at the area of the garden where Arcus made his
explosion. The ground was torn to shreds, rocks and soil scattered
everywhere. From that area alone, you would have a hard time knowing there
was ever any lawn there at all.
"Oh, um! You see... I just..."
"Just think about where you're explodin' stuff next time, dumbass!"
Craib's fist came down on Arcus's head and began to grind into his
scalp.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
For all his magic-making efforts, he was rewarded with a healthy Dutch
rub.
Noah Ingvayne left the capital, headed for Abend territory under Arcus's
orders. He was going to a certain training ground that Arcus was using for
spell development. Normally, Arcus practiced in the Raytheft or the Abend
garden, but since his little incident the other day, Craib forbade him from
using his land like that again. Even before that, the enormous tree Arcus grew
for his soma wine ruined any landscaping plans his uncle might have had.
Even as laid back as he was, Craib snapped.
Once he calmed down, he gave Arcus permission to use the training
grounds out in the Abend territory as much as he liked for his magical
experiments. Though he called it a "training ground," in reality it was just an
area among the mountains and wastelands that no one ever visited. Those
mountains, overgrown with trees, were so tranquil that it was easy to forget
time even existed. You had to strain your ears to hear the song of wild birds
or the blowing of the wind. Sunlight filtered through the leaves and branches
to light up the ground, highlighting the rough gravel path travelers were
supposed to take.
Noah and his fellow servant, Cazzy Guari, had left to fetch some food
and water and were returning with their spoils.
"After all this time, do you not think you should start to speak properly?"
Noah said.
"Ya think so? Thought I was gettin' better at it." Cazzy let out his
peculiar cackle.
"No matter your thoughts, you have much room for improvement."
"Oh yeah? Like where?"
Noah pulled out a notebook. "Yesterday, I counted four instances of
inappropriate speech towards our master, and already two more today."
"Why the heck are ya writin' that down for?! Ya take this way too
seriously!"
"Even if you were my superior at the Institute, my tenure as a butler is far
longer than yours."
Noah felt he had a duty to point out where Cazzy could improve. Even if
his personality presented a hurdle to clear, speech and register was vital for a
butler to get right. It wasn't so bad with Arcus and Craib, because they knew what Cazzy was like, but if he spoke as roughly around others as he did to
them, then it could reflect badly on both him and their master.
While Noah did feel he'd made some improvement, there were still times
where he forgot himself completely. As an absolute minimum, he had to be
sure Cazzy would speak politely to the nobles of other houses.
"I must implore you to be more careful. We must both support Master
Arcus as best we can for the future."
"'We,' huh?"
"Yes. We. Or are you dissatisfied with your post? Personally speaking, I
think you would be hard pressed to find a more entertaining master."
"I gotta agree with that! Kid's insane!" Cazzy cackled again.
The former kidnapper complained about a lot of things, but rarely were
they to do with Arcus. Noah guessed it was because Arcus wasn't too
different from most commoners, what with his cheeky streak and casual
diction. He often wondered why that was, despite his upbringing, but the
mysteries surrounding his master were already too many to count. In any
case, Cazzy and Arcus spoke too much like old friends, and Noah thought it
was high time that changed.
"Hey, be quiet a sec."
"What's wrong?" Noah whispered.
Cazzy bent forward slightly and craned his neck, looking around. Noah
heard that Cazzy was a former peasant, and even went out into the hills and
fields to hunt using his magic. He must have had a fine-tuned ear for unusual
sounds in the wilderness. Noah listened too, and soon he heard it: an
intermittent crash that sounded like the banging of drums, followed by the
clamor of wings from the panicked flight of birds and a vibration like
something big crashing to the ground. Whatever those sounds were, they
were not natural.
"Goodness me..."
"Sounds like a riot, but I know who's behind it!"
"I have an awful feeling I know, too."
The boy was a rolling catastrophe smartly packaged in an aristocrat's
clothes.
Cazzy let out his high-pitched cackle. "You're dyin' to know what he's
done, ain't ya?"
"How could you tell?"
"It's all over your face!"
Noah didn't realize he was being so obvious.
"To be quite honest with you, I am much more curious about what he
cast to make a war zone of Craib's garden."
"That's why we had to come all the way out here, right? What's the kid
even want with a spell that can do so much damage?"
"I am sure he has some objection to Craib's landscaping sensibilities.
That mess was merely the first phase of his conspiracy against respectable
horticulture."
"And you're tellin' me I gotta show more respect to our master, huh?"
It didn't take the pair long to reach ground zero. Arcus was practicing in
a sizable clearing. Already expecting them, he walked up to them the moment
they came into view.
"Hey, guys. Welcome back!"
"We have the food and water you asked for."
"Thanks!" Arcus took the flask Noah handed to him, adding another
"thanks" as he did so.
Noah could not fault him for his habits concerning proper shows of
courtesy. Noah pointed out before that it wasn't normal for nobility to thank
their servants for every little thing; Arcus replied that if someone did
something for him, he was going to be grateful for it—his implication being
that to do otherwise would be a breach of basic cause and effect.
Noah caught a whiff of smoke. He turned to look towards the trees and
gasped. Despite the sound that fell from his lips at the destruction before him,
he managed to regain his composure almost at once. He was inured to almost
every conceivable surprise at this point.
Cazzy grimaced. Compared to Noah, he had two years less experience
dealing with the boy. The trees in front of them had fallen down into the
shape of a fan. That much wasn't worth raising an eyebrow. The real surprise
came when he noticed that each tree had several small holes in it. Whether
their trunks were gouged out intentionally or whether they had simply broken
under an intense destructive force wasn't clear, but none of them were
cleanly felled.
The Artglyphs still dissipating into the air made it obvious Arcus had
used some sort of spell, but not one Noah recognized.
Aware his servants noticed them, Arcus glanced at the trees. "Oh, don't
worry about that. I was just trying out some new stuff."
"Is that what that loud sound was before? Ya think ya could make a nice, peaceful spell for once?"
"I was just thinking this kind of combative magic'll come in handy
eventually."
"I've seen undertakers less pessimistic than ya..." Cazzy groaned.
"I mean, this world isn't exactly peaceful, right?" Arcus pointed out
calmly.
"Eh, can't argue with that..."
Neither could Noah. Although Lainur was not currently among the
belligerents in any major war, there were always border skirmishes here and
there that needed someone's attention. The Hans tribe in the east never went
long without a sortie. In the south, the maritime kingdom of Granciel fought
hard to bar Lainur from making too much progress in their seaward exploits.
The Gillis Empire to the west took any chance it could to launch an invasion.
It was only Lainur's northern allies which kept up peaceful diplomatic
relations. As things stood, a war could break out at any time.
That wasn't what piqued Noah's curiosity most about Arcus's words
though. What did he mean by "this world?" What other worlds were there to
weigh it against?
"So then, Master Arcus. Was the spell you cast just now a success?"
Noah asked, noticing his master looked a little worried.
He already had an idea of the answer. When this boy's magic went just as
he hoped, he would shout and jump and run around in joy, losing all sight of
his surroundings. Instead, Arcus noticed Cazzy and Noah as soon as they
arrived and greeted them calmly.
"No, it isn't quite there yet. I keep trying out different phrases and stuff,
but I can't get it to work out how I want it to. The bull let keeps coming out
too big. I dunno what's going wrong," Arcus muttered.
Bull let—that strange phrase tickled at Noah's memory of another spell
of Arcus's devising: Black Armor, or something like that. Noah wasn't sure,
but he must have been trying to launch the same kind of projectile with this
new spell. Seeing the destruction Arcus caused, though, Noah couldn't help
but think that any other magician would be over the moon with such a result.
"Do you not want your 'bull let' to be as big as possible?" Noah asked.
"Bigger means more power, yeah, but the moss changes how long I can
keep control over the spell. I can't even keep it up for ten seconds like this.
The incantation should be perfect, but it just flies out of control..."
"I beg your pardon, Master Arcus, but would you mind repeating that?"
"What? Oh, sure!" Arcus cleared his throat. "Well, y'know. When I use
Black Armor, I make the shape of a gum with my hand, right? So this time
I'm trying to make my arm like a rye full, but then the barrel gets too hot..."
"Ahem."
"Uh..."
Asking him to repeat himself only made things more complicated, and
neither Noah nor Cazzy were able to add anything of use.
Arcus grimaced as he realized they had no idea what he was talking
about. "It's hard to explain without any equivalent words... Hmm..."
Arcus fell into deep thought and started muttering, using even more
incoherent language than before. It wasn't unusual to see magicians talking to
themselves like this. Hearing their own words out loud helped to focus their
thoughts. The only problem was he seemed to be speaking nonsense.
Noah's master often used unnatural-sounding words that he never heard
either in Lainur's tongue or in the Elder Tongue. Those words seemed to
relate to theories and phenomena he had no point of reference for, which only
baffled Noah further. He exchanged a glance with Cazzy, who shrugged his
shoulders and shook his head as always. They were both utterly clueless. It
was just like in the Holy Tower when Arcus was explaining his One Small
Step spell. He really had to get down to the basics for Noah and Cazzy to
even have an inkling of how it worked.
"So, what you're sayin' is that ya don't want it to be too strong?" Cazzy
asked.
"Yeah, because it makes my arm too heavy. I don't want it to be
powerful as much as I want to be able to fire rapidly. I've still got enough
aether, so I'll show you."
"Neverending, penetrating torrent of evil. The dark blinking of soapberry
and its crimson tide after the downpour. It runs and turns according to
nature's will. Heat never cool, and know not your target. Pierce the soldiers'
ears and drown out their battle cries. Run an incessant rampage."
"Spinning Barrel."
Artglyphs floated in front of Arcus before gathering together and forming
several magic circles in midair. Arcus put his right arm through them, at
which point they contracted until they constricted it like manacles. The magic
circles in place, Arcus repositioned his arm so that it pointed straight ahead.
The circles began to spin, gathering speed until they blurred beyond
recognition.
"Volley."
The air screeched, and several black lumps launched from his arm at a
horrifying speed. The lumps flew in great numbers at unpredictable intervals.
The only word Noah could think of to describe that movement was
"scattering," but it wasn't enough to describe the force with which those
projectiles flew. Unlike Arcus's Black "Armor," where the attack flew too
fast for the eye to see, these were at least visible, but they still moved too
quickly to dodge reliably. The magic stones flew straight, as if they were
pulled by invisible strings. They blew fist-sized holes in the trees in their
path. Some were uprooted, while the thicker trees looked like they had been
gnawed at by a million caterpillars. Any human standing in front of Arcus
would have no escape.
It looked like a spell to be used on multiple targets. Arcus needed only to
launch his spell, and even a whole crowd in front of him would end up like
those trees. A chill ran down Noah's spine. What concerned him more than
the spell's power was its uniqueness. Just like his Black "Armor," this spell
was unlike any other Noah could think of.
Just then, Arcus jerked his hand back, as if he touched something
incredibly hot.
"Ouch! I really need to make the bull lets smaller... That's why I can't
keep it up for long. I guess trying to make magic copy sigh ants isn't as easy
as I thought," Arcus muttered, shaking his hand in the air to cool it off.
Noah wasn't surprised the spell was such a burden on his arm, although
he didn't understand where Arcus came up with the idea to launch it from his
own body like that in the first place.
"How the heck does he come up with this creepy stuff?" Cazzy muttered.
"I must agree. Master Arcus, might you share with us what you are
basing this spell on?"
There were already several spells based on projectile weapons. Bows,
slingshots, catapults, javelins... but none of those weapons could launch
attacks as rapidly and mercilessly as what they just witnessed. To make your
own spells, it was important to work from some kind of conceptual raw
material—something solid to aid your imagination of how the spell was
going to work; otherwise the risk of failure shot up. As much as Noah tried,
he couldn't think of what Arcus's starting point might be.
"I based it on a mash-sheen gum."
As usual, his answer didn't help. It was as though he was talking about