Day 63, 12:10 PM

  “I got a level!” I interrupt Edna mid sentence. She glances back, gifting me a frown for my effort.

  As expected, the choice is between getting better at estimating distances and getting better at estimating weights. Both seem fairly useless. But the former sees more use in combat, so I pick it and read the next level up condition.

  Ask a question your master should know the answer to, but they do not. Alright.

  “Hey, Edna, can you tell me why it’s raining all the time or what’s causing the rain to fall?”

  The woman’s dissatisfied frown deepens. “That’s just the way things are.”

  Another level up notice appears.

  “Thanks!” I pick Initial Arcane Lore, since I believe the skill is vital for a mage, and I’m missing it. I wait a moment. Nothing happens, no epiphanies, no surge of knowledge floods my brain. But I know that when I need to know something about arcane subjects, I will know it.

  BSD is retarded beyond belief. If I had access to all that information now, I could further develop the skill. Then again, had I earned the skill through study, I would have had the foundation needed to advance it. Maybe.

  “The condition to reach level seven is to ask a question your master should know an answer to, but they don’t.” I check my stats. “To reach level eight, I need to obtain a perfect mastery over my voice and fine motor skills.”

  “That’s going to be a tough one.” Edna comments. My back-to-back levels would have annoyed her, had the girls not relied on my tips to cheat, steadily advancing their levels over the past few weeks.

  I think Edna has started to change her mind, and once I or one of the girls become mages, she might just restart her classes. I kind of hope it’s because of my persuasiveness and the logic behind my words, but a part of me knows it’s because of Amicable improving the positive results of human interactions.

  “How long do you think you will take?” she asks. “Level eight skills are both worth it.”

  I put my newly acquired attribute points into strength and agility each and consider the question.

  “I love to sing, but I haven’t done it in a while. You might not believe me, but I was damn good at it. As for my fine motor skills, they should be good enough. What is the most demanding task in terms of dexterity you can think of? Maybe we can make it into a lesson, so that the girls can benefit from it as well.”

  Edna considers the words and nods.

  “I’ll try teaching you a spell beyond your ability, if you can mimic it with enough precision, it should count towards the level up condition.”

  A tempting idea. One I love for multiple reasons, it will be the first dip of my toes into the world of actual spellcasting while helping me advance and helping me analyze magic.

  We continue our journey, and Edna continues giving lessons until the evening downpour. Given our pace, the girls should advance in another day or two. We might reach Deephorn by then, we might not. I’m unsure without proper maps and orienteering skills.

  Edna starts a fire with a couple flicks of her wrist, we share a meal, and then she begins her evening lesson. First, she sings a haunting melody void of words. She chose a spell whose song is extremely adequate for our purpose. Her voice shifts from the depths of an oceanic trench, climbing high across the world’s spine, and soaring towards the skies.

  Usually high pitches prick at my ears like mosquitoes, but Edna’s voice translates them into a thing of beauty. I hear flowers budding and blooming beyond the tone, and suddenly it’s over. The song transitioned from death to life in a dozen heartbeats. I have no idea why I know that when there were no words, but knowledge sits in my mind. It could be my newly acquired arcane lore, but I doubt it.

  “Now you do it.”

  Easier said than done, but I give it a shot.

  My voice sinks into the trench, which births thoughts of a watery grave; of drowning and despair.

  The undead at the bottom of the ocean scale the cliffs.

  “Slower.” Edna breaks my mental image, but I obey.

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  “Higher,” she orders, and my voice reaches the mosquito tones until I can’t tell whether my ears are buzzing or my mouth is spawning the uncomfortable tone.

  Soon, it’s done, and Edna has a single-word compliment for me. “Again.”

  I sing once more. The dead stir. They rise and climb the underwater bluffs and trudge forth along the sandy bottom until they leave the sea for the beach. The air is dry, hostile. The skeletons crumble, but their sparks and dust move on, carried by the wind. They reach a barren plateau, where their dust settles to nurture new life.

  “Passable,” Edna compliments me again. “Watch my fingers.”

  They wiggle and bend, and while rapid, the gestures are easy enough to mimic. I get them on the first try, and Edna says nothing. Still no notification, though.

  “We’ll try another song.”

  She starts singing something completely different. Her voice is hard, serious, with a steely quality which grates at the ears and the air alike. It expands, spirals out of control, and explodes in a space of two breaths. A much simpler spell than the previous one, but harsh and packed with energy.

  The spell’s violent shift makes the song difficult to imitate. I get it right the fourth time, following Edna’s corrections until BSD appears before me.

  A choice stands before me, specialization in an unknown area versus versatility. I’ve considered it before and reached the decision in no time at all. Specialization is what one takes when striving for excellence in a particular field. What interests me is survivability, and a Jack of all trades has better tools for the job than a specialist with a color of magic which is off limits or diminished.

  Just imagining that I might lose access to something vital like healing is enough to push me towards my choice.

  Initial Mana Ambivalence appears in my list of skills, which has grown so long my skills are replaced by a message to see abilities for more information. I leave my free attribute point be, and check the level up condition.

  List all ten mana affinities. It’s a piece of cake.

  “The ten mana affinities are: objects, death and burial, elemental forces, stars, chaos and cowardice, life, order and bravery, space, time, and fate.” I list all ten as taught by Edna, but nothing happens. I look at my master, for the first time with genuine puzzlement.

  “Edna, my level up condition is to list all ten mana affinities. I just did, but nothing happened.”

  She furrows her brows, her eyes losing focus as she combs her memories.

  “Try with colors.”

  I list the ten colors, but nothing happens.

  For some reason, the fact fills me with unease. I try listing the colors with associated contexts, calling yellow cowardice, the chaos in turn, but time after time, nothing happens.

  “I would’ve felt better if the level up condition said list all twelve mana affinities. That would just mean there are some we don’t know about, but this is much worse.”

  Edna understands, and based on her frown she agrees with me for the first time that not knowing is a problem. The girls, however, appear stumped, even after investing five points into intellect and wisdom to improve their comprehension.

  “If there were more than ten types of mana affinities, it might mean we simply haven’t or can’t perceive one, but since there are exactly ten types that either means we are mistaken about their nature or purpose.”

  I don’t mention it might mean we don’t know about one or two or five colors outside our visible spectrum, while splitting known affinities into subsets. Violet and indigo seemed like an iffy split right from the start. There could be a single space-time mana affinity, while we are missing something else entirely.

  Getting to the bottom of this will take years, and the problem itself might be unsolvable. That being the case, I won’t stop my progress for something beyond my ability.

  It’s time to quit.

  “Edna, I’m ready to advance to journeyman mage.”

  She nods, and we sit.

  “Firestarter is one of the oldest and simplest spells.” The girls are also sitting, listening, and watching with focus. “For me, it’s barely a gesture, but for a journeyman mage, it requires both movement and a song. Listen.”

  Edna sings of a dot becoming a circle, of a termite devouring a whole tree. The two songs overlap, lasting less than ten seconds. There is no boom or whooshing at the end, just a quiet, steady expansion combined with devouring.

  I repeat the melody, and Edna makes no corrections. The song is easy and linear, straining neither my mind nor my voice.

  Then her fingers dance. It’s a simple wiggle, easy to mimic, and I start right away.

  “Good, now observe my mana.”

  I watch the green trickle out of her, swirling around her fingers until it flows towards the pile of kindling she wishes to ignite. Moving mana is the hardest part, but I master it after fifteen minutes, and a spark appears in the kindling, growing, devouring before it becomes a flame.

  “Congratulations, Griff, you have performed magic. While you are no longer my apprentice, I will be there to help and guide you.”

  The words seem ceremonial, and I commit them to memory before checking BSD.

  [Name - Fyoor Enchanterson

  Class - journeyman mage level 0

  Health 25/25, Strength - 25, Agility - 25, Physique - 25, Wisdom - 28, Intellect - 32, Willpower - 26, Presence - 22, Charisma - 23, Composure - 25

  Abilities - See Abilities for more information.

  Attribute points remaining - 1

  To level up, learn three different spells.

  Statuses - none]

  Finally! I can do magic.