Chương 40: Ready to engulf ourselves in fire?

"Who is she to tell me what to do..." Fabrisse muttered as he aggressively broke off the bread. Mid-afternoon light filtered through the canopy, dappling the water of the North Pond with a glint that looked almost like active glyphlight, but wasn't. The clucklebeak, with a body like a mossy loaf and stubby wings that didn't understand flight, swam over to him from the reedbed. Its feet were oversized for its size, the sound it made sounded like a hiccup.

The entire existence of this downy creature seemed inefficient to Fabrisse, almost inefficient as the way he kept replaying Severa's threat in his mind.

'You may very well become the first Chosen One in recorded history to be expelled from the Synod,' she'd said. Fabrisse tore another piece from the loaf. She doesn't know anything. He could cast spells now. His Scoot of Dire Retrieval already qualified as a legitimate Shadow spell according to the System's classification, which was more than most apprentice thaumaturges could claim. And Shadowed Reposition Protocol was getting closer and closer to proper execution every time he used it.

The resonance requirement alone had nearly been met. Honestly, Severa probably didn't even know he could cast Shadow magic. Fabrisse dropped a crust near the edge of the bank. The clucklebeak waddled forward, gave the bread a cautious peck, then stared at him judgmentally.

"Yeah, I know," Fabrisse said, settling down onto the flat stone at the pond's edge.

"No aether in it. Just grain." He watched it nibble with precise little head-jolts. Then it let out a soft churk and backed away a step, but didn't leave.

"See? We're learning to tolerate each other," he said.

"Quack," the bird said. [Minor Imprint Present — Category: Passive Emotional | Trace: Comfort/Guarded Affection] [You are now more attuned to Familiar-Grade Creatures | Perfect Resonance Progress: 44%] Fabrisse tilted his head.

"Guarded affection?" he echoed aloud, then squinted at the clucklebeak.

"Don't tell me you like me." The clucklebeak let out an indignant chortle and turned its back on him. It gave a final disapproving huff and waddled in a circle before plunking down in the reeds. Fabrisse was about to offer another crumb when he heard footsteps behind him. Lorvan asked, in his ever smooth and wry voice, "How are you spending your afternoon off?"

"Good afternoon, Mentor." Lorvan came to stand beside him and gave the clucklebeak a brief nod.

"And here I thought you'd be holed up in the Wing of Substratal Studies. Have you already run out of passion for practiced thaumaturgy?" Fabrisse shook his head.

"No, no. That's the best part, actually. Hajin starts with theory." Lorvan furrowed his brows.

"Theory?"

"I know, right?" Fabrisse glanced up at him now, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"He didn't even let me try invocations the first day. We just walked through quartz grain types and their social habits."

"Social habits? The Earth wing has a rather fascinating focus of studies."

"Okay, maybe not social. But still. I was excited. It was like being allowed to stare at pebbles on purpose." Lorvan gave a small laugh. But then Fabrisse's grin faded.

"I... didn't go back today, though. Not for the afternoon cycle."

"Problems?" Fabrisse nodded.

"A few." Lorvan sat beside him on the stone, folding his coat beneath him like someone raised with both manners and ancestral furniture.

"Let me guess. You tried to lecture the assistant about the metaphysical rights of sediment." Fabrisse cracked a small smile.

"Worse. I met Montreal's father."

"Oh," Lorvan said.

"You're talking to Miss Montreal again?" He scratched the back of his head.

"She's become... aggressively interested in my continued existence ever since the Eidralith incident."

"Tell me more." Then, in approximately three minutes, he summarized how Severa had publicly pinned him against the wall, corrected his spellcasting, insulted him repeatedly, attempted to purchase the Eidralith, and most recently dragged him out of the Geological Wing to meet her father. There was also an alarming amount of wrist-grabbing involved.

He'd almost confessed that he and Severa had quite illegally broken into a section of the Synod they had not been authorized to enter, before realizing it was probably an idiotic idea, and stopped himself in time. Lorvan listened without interrupting. When the summary finally concluded, he sat in silence for several moments. The clucklebeak stole another piece of bread.

"I see." Finally, he folded his hands together.

"Tell me, Kestovar. Is this why you suddenly want supplementary tutoring sessions? On Fire, no less." Fabrisse hesitated.

"Maybe."

"External pressure can be useful in the short term," Lorvan said.

"However, motivation derived primarily from external pressure rarely produces durable learning behaviors. Once the pressure disappears, the effort usually disappears with it. But I suppose a student who studies for imperfect reasons generally outperforms a student who does not study at all." Fabrisse stopped breaking the bread. No. That's not it. I have something to prove.

"My resonance has improved," Fabrisse said. Lorvan raised an eyebrow.

"Has it?"

"Yes."

"Kestovar." Lorvan's tone became noticeably more academic.

"Resonance is among the most difficult attributes to improve. Many thaumaturges spend decades refining it. Some never increase it meaningfully at all after reaching their natural ceiling."

"No, no." Fabrisse sat up straighter.

"I can prove it." Lorvan's second eyebrow joined the first. Fabrisse immediately began searching for suitable ammunition. The Stupenstones were out of the question. Stupenstones were among the most thoroughly documented geological specimens in the Synod for how useless it was. Entire shelves of research existed on their non-interaction with aether. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. A moment later he scooped up three small pebbles from beside the pond.

"Watch." Fabrisse extended his hand.

"This spell."

"My sequencing was already correct. My mnemonic was already correct. But I could never maintain stable execution for longer than five seconds." He inhaled, then chanted, "Stone, sway." [Spell Cast: Stonesway – Rank I] The three stones rose smoothly into the air. [Spellcasting Efficiency: 100%] Lorvan frowned harder. Fabrisse grinned. The stones didn't wobble. They didn't rotate. They didn't drift. They simply hovered, perfectly.

"Six..." Lorvan's eyes narrowed.

"Seven..." Still stable.

"Eight..." Not even a tremor.

"Nine..." The pebbles hung motionless above his palm.

"Ten." Only then did Fabrisse release the spell. The stones dropped back onto the ground. He looked up triumphantly.

"See? This is still Rank I. I haven't changed the mnemonic. I haven't changed the sequencing. Rank II uses a different mnemonic structure entirely, so I know this isn't a rank advancement." Lorvan continued staring at the pebbles.

"Interesting," he said.

"Your spellcasting has indeed improved." He tapped a finger against his knee.

"Has the Eidralith assisted you at all?" Fabrisse thought about what to say. He'd already explained parts of the artifact's behavior before: the notifications, the strange observations, the occasional quest. There didn't seem much point hiding it now. If there was anyone in the Synod he trusted not to immediately dismiss the whole thing as delusion, it was probably Lorvan. So he explained. The Eidralith somehow quantified abilities, and everything received a numerical value.

It issued objectives that it called quests, and upon completing them he received experience. Accumulating enough experience caused him to 'level up', at which point the artifact rewarded him with attribute points that could be assigned wherever he wished. The explanation sounded increasingly ridiculous the longer he spoke, yet every part of it had proven demonstrably real.

"My resonance is now 8," Fabrisse said.

"I can cast this skill at maximum efficiency." Lorvan placed a hand on his chin. He folded his hand together, then placed a hand on his chin again, and kept repeating the same two movements for half a minute.

"Extraordinary. I believe I finally understand how every Chosen One in recorded history managed to achieve such absurd heights."

"So..." Fabrisse ventured.

"I can cast Fire spells now?" Lorvan stared at him.

"More than that. Kestovar, do you understand what you're describing? You appear to possess a mechanism for changing the deficiencies themselves. This is the equivalent of being born into one of the great noble houses with every educational advantage, every tutor, every library, every connection already waiting for you." That sounded like Severa…

"Most people spend their entire lives trapped within the limitations they were born with. You appear to possess a mechanism for changing those limitations," Lorvan continued.

"Do not waste it." The clucklebeak quacked.

"I'm not! That's why I'm asking you to tutor me today." Fabrisse willed the Affinity apparition open then read it out loud to Lorvan. [Primary Affinities Accessed] Aether: 32% Earth: 38% Air: 15% Fire: 8% Water: 0%"It quantified affinities too?" Lorvan asked.

"Yes. It says I'm not casting well because my affinity is not good enough." Then Fabrisse read the threshold numbers out loud for Lorvan. [SYSTEM NOTE: Affinity thresholds determine spell accessibility.] Tier I (Basic): ≥ 20% affinity required Tier II (Rare): ≥ 40% affinity required Tier III (Epic): ≥ 60% affinity required Tier IV (Legendary): ≥ 80% affinity required Tier V (Mythic): 100% affinity required Affinities below threshold suffer severe efficiency penalties and instability.

External amplification is strongly recommended.

"It also shows me the spellcasting equation," he added.

"... I'm going to need you to clarify that for me."

"The spellcasting equation." Fabrisse gestured vaguely.

"The parts that contribute to successful casting. Execution speed. Mnemonics. Resonance. Things like that. For example, here are my numbers for Embercoil." [Embercoil — Rank I] Spellcasting Equation: Execution Speed (60%) (DEX ≥ 15) + Mnemonic Accuracy (20%) + Aetheric Resonance (20%) Observed Efficiency – 44% → Execution Speed (48%) → Mnemonic Accuracy (20%) → Aetheric Resonance (-24%) (Incompatible Affinity)"Cast it," Lorvan urged. Fabrisse stood. This time he paid close attention. His stance was correct.

His timing was correct. His mnemonic was correct.

"Spark and spin." He rotated his wrist as quickly as possible, and a ribbon of orange flame appeared above his palm. For a brief moment it looked almost respectable. Then the coil shuddered, the flame lost coherence, sparks scattered into the air. The spell died. Fabrisse pointed at his own palm.

"See? The mnemonic was right. If the mnemonic were wrong, it wouldn't form at all. The execution was fast enough too. I've practiced it enough to know when I mess up the sequence. So… is there any way to improve my affinity?"

"Yes." Lorvan folded his hands.

"There are methods for affinity training. Every apprentice is exposed to repeated elemental exposure during their early educational years, just like you did." His expression grew thoughtful.

"There is a reason the Synod tests affinity before admission. There is little we can reliably do to change it." Fabrisse grimaced. Lorvan continued, "You spent three formative years exposing yourself to Fire thaumaturgy and improved only marginally. Under ordinary circumstances, that would be a grim indicator." Fabrisse looked down at the extinguished ember.

"So how do I train it now?"

"The same principle as before. More fire. Stronger fire. More resonance. More opportunities for adaptation." He tapped his knee.

"In practice, that means booking a fire chamber, which limits training time considerably, or finding a sufficiently powerful Fire thaumaturge willing to repeatedly expose you to stronger manifestations."

"Can it be someone who isn't Montreal?" Lorvan looked amused.

"I wasn't planning to suggest Miss Montreal." Fabrisse exhaled. Lorvan said, "My primary affinities are Air and Water. I can assist with fundamentals, but if your goal is affinity development, you ideally want someone whose Fire resonance substantially exceeds my own. I could arrange one for you…" Lorvan suddenly looked over Fabrisse's shoulder.

"Although perhaps we already have a sufficient candidate."

"Who?" A cheerful voice immediately answered from behind them.

"Hiii, Fabri~" Fabrisse turned around. Liene was approaching along the pond path carrying three books, a basket, and what appeared to be a partially enchanted ribbon that was trying very hard to escape from her hair. Unable to wave, she rocked from heel to toe instead.

"She's the candidate?" Fabrisse asked.

"You have to pass Advanced Fire Examinations to begin formal Light specialization," Lorvan said. One of the books slowly worked its way loose from the pile beneath her arm. Neither Liene nor the book seemed particularly surprised when it fell. Then another fell. Then all three.

"Hi, Lorvan—" She paused.

"Mentor Lugano." Lorvan looked down.

"Please take care of your books."

"Don't worry!" Liene bent down and scooped them up.

"They're all enfolded." Then she turned to the clucklebeak.

"Hi to you too!" Finally, she turned to Fabrisse.

"Ready to engulf ourselves in fire?"