Chương 20: Chapter 19: Alcohol-assisted confession

Fabrisse could not concentrate in class. He was already seated with his notebook open and his stylus resting perfectly parallel to the margin, exactly where it belonged. Today, he had every intention of discovering how he had managed to fall catastrophically behind in a subject everyone else appeared to absorb through simple atmospheric exposure. None of it stuck.

To begin with, Veliane Veist was sitting several rows ahead, just far enough away that looking directly at her would've been suspicious and just close enough that ignoring her demanded continuous effort. That was unfortunate. She remained the only person to whom he' d ever delivered an alcohol-assisted confession after Tommaso had confidently assured him it was' an opportunity to build character.' She' d listened without interruption, stared at him for several agonizing seconds, and quietly walked away.

Years later, he still hadn't identified which part of the experience had been most humiliating. Second, he'd been graced with yet another Tutorial quest. [Tutorial Quest Received: Foundational Specialization] Objective: Visit the Skill Tree and unlock a new Rare Skill with a prerequisite Reward: +100 EXP Skill Received: Prerequisite Optimization — Rank I Effect: Designate one Rare Skill. All prerequisite Common Skills linked to the designated Rare Skill gain +5% Progression Rate.

The wording of the objective annoyed him to no end. Unlock; what an irritating verb. Unlock how? It implied there was a lock in place, which implied a key, which implied somebody somewhere had designed the whole arrangement on purpose. Worse still, the Eidralith had already shown itself perfectly capable of using metaphor when plain language would've been an act of basic decency. Did unlock mean he was expected to learn an entirely new spell? From scratch? In real time?

In the middle of a lecture on emotional attenuation? Or did it mean something administrative? The phrase Skill Tree suggested a diagram, which would imply that unlock simply meant gain visibility. He tested the phrase 'Skill Tree'. A translucent construct opened. It was, in fact, a diagram. Earth Thaumaturgy sat at the top, and from it branched the Common Skills he already learned: Terralift Minor, Earthen Recall, Burden of Stones, and more.

From those, thinner branches extended into two labeled spell-forms in greyed-out letters, both marked Ineligible. He looked at the one above first. Gravebound Manipulation (Rare – Rank I) Prerequisite: Terralift Minor (Rank III) Trigger Condition: Must target earth that has been affected by Terralift Minor within the last 30 seconds. Effect: Manipulation of the same affected dirt costs 50% less aether than Terralift.

Allows up to 3 sequential manipulations per Terralift activation, including reshaping, redirection, compacting, splitting, dragging, or anchoring of previously lifted material. Cannot exceed the original volume lifted by Terralift. Then he glanced at the other.

Lithic Memory Weave (Rare – Rank I) Prerequisite: Earthen Recall (Rank II) + Loamwake (Rank II) Effect: When cast, prepare up to 3 square meters of connected soil or mineral-rich ground to retain the emotional resonance of events occurring within the next 6 hours. He sat with both entries open side by side, unable to pick between the two. Gravebound Manipulation had survived every curriculum revision anyone could remember for one very simple reason.

Nobody had ever found a convincing argument against making Terralift better. The other spell was considerably stranger, coming into its own whenever testimonies contradicted one another. The soil retained memories of emotions at the very least, and with enough refinement, eventually the events that caused them. This resulted in 22% of Earth Thaumaturges being certified as court investigators. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Beneath the last visible branch, the diagram stopped. A vast expanse encircled the recognized branches, concealed as if someone had picked up a veil of darkness and brought it over the structure. At its center, written in elegant cursive that did not match the rest of the interface at all, lay a single word. [𝔏𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡] That looked like lock, though in a cursive that looked very offensive to the eyes. So unlock did not mean learning a spell in the middle of class. It definitely meant access.

He scanned for spells he knew existed, finding none. Even some of the more mundane workings were missing: Soil Stratification Sense, Grainbound Cohesion, Roottrace Perception, Tillwake, Verdant Assay. He knew every one of those names. He could probably recite their lecture notes if someone woke him in the middle of the night. Apparently, that wasn' t worth very much. The tree only acknowledged spells he' d actually used. Cakil had mentioned Verdant Assay before.

Farmers relied on it to judge soil quality, and its Rare evolution, Geomantic Yield Mapping, could estimate how productive an entire field might become. That would do. He'd go ask. Demir Cakil had always found it of little meaning to maintain a traditional laboratory. His workplace existed as a single forgettable line in the Academy registry under Auxiliary Research Plot, Wing of Geology, a terraced garden carved into an overlooked hillside below the main lecture complexes, past the last of the formal courtyards.

By the time the paving stones gave way to packed earth, it became obvious the route had never been intended for casual foot traffic. Earth and Wood students would come by all the same, treating the place like a consultation site with no concrete appointment slots. You came with a question, stayed as long as it took to answer, and left without ceremony. Fabrisse stopped at the edge of the lowest terrace, unsure whether it was appropriate to announce himself. There was no door to knock.

"Professor Cakil?" he called. Wind stirred the leaf. A few moments later, a voice floated down from somewhere uphill, "Just a moment." The voice carried with suspicious clarity. Fabrisse decided not to investigate why. The explanation almost certainly involved Earth thaumaturgy, and Professor Cakil possessed an uncanny talent for turning innocent questions into hour-long lessons. Waiting gave him nothing to do except inspect the professor' s latest argument against civilized landscaping.

Dark loam ended exactly where pale silt began, followed by clay that refused to fraternize with either. Every plot carried placards listing moisture, nutrient balance, biomass, aether saturation, and several measurements Fabrisse had never thought to describe as conversational. Several beds had been left completely untouched. Fabrisse disliked those most of all. From between the upper terraces, Demir Cakil finally emerged. He was not wearing Academy robes.

Instead, he had on a loose, earth-toned tunic with sleeves rolled past his elbows, trousers dusted permanently at the cuffs, and supple leather boots that had clearly never known polish. A wide-brimmed hat shaded his face, and perched beneath it were round, dark lenses set into thin frames. They didn't have enchanted lenses. They were just… tinted. That felt unneccessary, and therefore suspicious.

Cakil descended the steps at an unhurried pace, trailing his hand absently through the leaves of a low-growing vine as he passed. The plant leaned toward his fingers. He stopped a few paces away.

"Yes? If you're here to tell me one of my plots is trespassing into sanctioned walkways, I assure you it was there first."

"No, Professor."

"Mm. Then you want something. I haven't yet finished the new Aetheric Lock prototype, just so you know."

"It's not that."

"Then I take it you have found a new rare stone sample? Because if you have, I will be very annoyed if you brought it to me again instead of the Archive. I gave you your own research plot for a reason, Fabrisse. Independent research is how you convince the grant committee you're worth investing in."

"No, I mean... no sample. I wanted to ask about—" He forced himself to finish the sentence.

"There's an Earth spell I want to learn." Cakil's hand stilled. Slowly, he reached up and removed the dark lenses, folding them and tucking them into his breast pocket. His eyes were sharp and very awake.

"…An Earth spell, you say." He looked up at the sky, squinting.

"Well, either the horizon has curled into a singularity, or the Academy is about to collapse into a sinkhole. This is the best day of my life. Remarkable. Has the Eidralith box hit your head harder than reported?" Fabrisse scrunched his nose.

"You've heard about that." Cakil snorted.

"My boy, half the Wing of Geology felt it resonate. The other half is pretending they didn't. And yes. I read the report." Fabrisse briefly considered whether it was possible to die of second-hand publicity. Cakil continued, "I would have wagered that if you ever came asking to learn a new spell of your own accord, it would be Stone. You do seem to have rather singular interest." He gestured toward the terraces.

"Walk with me, and tell me which Earth spell you think you want." He turned and began climbing, already confident Fabrisse would follow.

"And Kestovar?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"You're full of surprises today. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"My… friend?" Fabrisse turned, following Cakil's gaze back down the terraces. There shouldn't have been anyone there. Yet someone was standing quietly at the edge of the first terrace. Veliane Veist stood near the edge of the lowest plot, just inside the garden's informal boundary, rubbing her opposite shoulder. She was not dressed for fieldwork. The hem of her coat had already picked up a dusting of pale silt, and she looked mildly displeased by it. Or troubled. He didn't know.

"Oh. I—Am I interrupting?" Veist? Why? His thoughts tripped over each other. Why was she here? Had she followed him? That felt wrong in a way he couldn't articulate. Veliane Veist did not follow people, least of all him. What's going on?