Ar'Kendrithyst

Erick sat with a circle of seven students, while Professor Rue Downs sat directly across from him, on the other side of the circle. Her white hair framed her white, smiling face, while her ruby eyes looked out across the group. She was obviously happy, and she was not afraid about sharing that happiness with the world.

Joy filled her voice as she said, “Welcome back, everyone. To start us off today, I’d like to ask Archmage Erick, if he has any Esoteric questions for us.”

Right to it, then? That was fine with Erick. Erick smiled, as the group of seven students, and Rue, looked at him. Some with strange fascination in their eyes, others with emotions too muddled to understand at a glance.

Erick asked, “How does [Teleport] work, exactly?”

Rue smiled softly, as she turned to a human male student in the group, asking, “Tuppert?”

Tuppert shifted from a muddled expression, to pure fascination, to utter terror. He suddenly shook his head, and went completely quiet.

Rue said, “That’s fine. I’ll answer. [Teleport] works by moving a person or object from one place to another, without that person or object occupying the space in between.” She added, “Intent does occupy that space between start and destination, though.”

Erick frowned a little. He wanted more than that.

Rue said, “I see you want more than that.”

“Well.” Erick admitted, “Yes.”

Rue smiled, saying, “You must keep in mind, Archmage, that the Script has taken a great deal of what the Old Wizards had to do manually, every time they wanted to enforce their will upon the manasphere, and put those techniques into reproducible, always-available blue boxes. The lessons you might get here at Oceanside in spatial magic are how one joins that known path. It’s a good path created by all those who came before, who each contributed a bit of themselves to this grand tradition in order to engrave that tradition upon the Script. If you learn Arcanaeum magic, it will work for you. But it is a path that never shifts. This is both a good thing, and a bad thing, as I’m sure you can understand without me needing to explain.

“But our personal truths also give shape and form to mana. Sometimes this emotive force produces a deeper magic more powerful than what the Script says is possible. Most of the time, though, this ends in failure.

Rue’s words resonated with something deep inside Erick.

“… Is that true?” Erick asked, unsure if he wanted her words to be real, or not.

Rue shrugged. “It is, and it isn’t. Truthfully, there are many schools of thought to tap into, to reach the pinnacles of power. Some would say my words are sacrilege. Others would find wisdom. The proof is in the cake: both schools of thought have their own champions, and more come out every year, though the Arcanaeum side does have a lot more successes than the emotive side. Archmage Ryul is an Oceanside graduate whose genius at Arcanaeum magic propelled him to his first useful tier 9 spell at age 22, and his second one a month later. And then we have you, who came to Veird with an entirely new kind of magic, never before seen.” She smiled. “Ryul has an entire magical civilization backing him up. You have nothing but a sympathetic, empathic connection to the natural world, and a whole lot of belief, as far as I can tell. But you’ve tapped into something quite real, or at least real to you.

“So the question then becomes ‘how did this happen’? And the answer is that no one knows. Personally, I think you have tapped into the emotive side of mana, and with a bit of knowledge about how this Reality works, you have given the Script the ability to work new magic for the first time in 1300 years.

“But no one really knows how magic works, except maybe Rozeta but she’s not talking. But we do know how magic works well enough. We know the mana responds to imagination, and with Reality and the Script, the mana creates something tangible.” She said, “That said: there are traditions around the world that each use the Script in their own way, and these other ways of thinking might help you with [Teleport] in ways that the math and the study of Arcanaeum Magic cannot. A lot of those traditions are religious traditions, but we don’t cover those in this class except to mention that they exist. We mostly cover the secular, quiet magics, that aren’t magics at all. From pouring out a shot of alcohol for the fallen, hoping that their bodies don’t rise as undead, to carving eyes around your house in a prayer that whatever danger threatens will be revealed before it draws too close.” She added, “This is Esoteric Magic. This is not an easy path to power. But it is a sideways path. One full of emotion, and imagery, and stuff not directly covered by the Script. Usually our endeavors end in failure, but sometimes they do not. Mostly, we just try to understand the world around us in a way not codified by any Arcanaeum.”

“I also teach alchemy. So that crops up rather often.” Professor Rue said, “Topics we usually discuss range from alchemy, to thaumaturgy, to superstition, and Luck.” She smiled toward Erick, saying, “This is also most of the same speech I gave last week, for our first class. Do you think you would like to stay?”

Erick wholeheartedly said, “Yes. I’m staying.”

Rue clapped her hands together, smiling as she said, “Great!”

- - - -

Basic Defensive Theory had Erick in the back of a room of two hundred, again, but this time an orcol woman was the professor. Professor Egallia Stomp was a 65 year old woman with fire in her voice and her step, who went back and forth from the blackboards to the students, demanding answers from the audience while her braided red hair flipped around with her movement, and a telekinetically controlled piece of chalk ripped across the blackboard at her discretion.

Today’s lesson was a continuation of the previous lesson: how to place anti-spell runes around a house. To serve this lesson, she had drawn blueprints on the blackboards, as well as the diagrams for the anti-spell runes she needed placing around the house. Today’s main rune was an anti-[Teleport] rune. But there were also counter-runes for Mana Altering to Fire, and [Stoneshape], set to the side of the blackboards.

At first, her questions and lecture made zero sense at all, because all she talked about was math and design, but as time went on, and students failed or flourished under Stomp’s questions, Erick began to see a pattern in the geometric layout of runes Stomp laid upon those house designs. The layout of a properly made defensive rune array might have had something to do with how mana moved through the air. There was something eerily similar to the Stomp’s diagrams today, and the mana flow methods taught in Calloway’s Dungeoneering class. There was a lot more math involved in Stomp’s designs, but it looked—

“Archmage Erick!” Professor Stomp called to him in the back of the room, as she telekinetically drafted a blank blueprint on the blackboard. “How would you defend this location!”

Erick felt his heart flutter at being called upon, but he quickly steeled himself, and looked over the new diagram. [Ultrasight] was getting a lot of work today, and every other, with Erick sitting at the back of the classroom like he usually did; he was glad for the skill. He briefly thought about Favoring it, but let that go for another day.

… Looking over the diagram did nothing for Erick. As a hundred faces out of two hundred looked at him, he said, “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”

“The only truly correct answer! But still wrong.” Stomp said, “Give me a guess.”

“Short term: Fill it with [Force Walls] to prevent [Teleport]s. Long term, [Prismatic Ward]. Can’t [Teleport] or alter a location filled with a [Prismatic Ward]—” He added, “Unless you have [Ward Destruction]. So then I’d probably hire someone like you to put runes everywhere you feel necessary, and consult you on how to defend against the more esoteric threats. And then of course I’d hire your competitor or similar to make sure you didn’t screw me over somehow.”

A cunning smile spread across Stomp’s face, as she said, “I have very competitive rates, Archmage Flatt, and a perfect track record, no matter the client. Consult me at your leisure, outside of class time.” She turned to a student in the front row. “Same question. But with only anti-[Teleport] and anti-[Stoneshape] runes. Go!”

The student flubbed an answer that seemed much better than Erick’s.

- - - -

Erick woke up at a normal enough time. The sun shone across the tops of the trees, but had yet to touch the house with light. When he opened his door, the scent of baking bread filled his nose. Someone was making something very delicious. He stepped to the balcony overlooking the interior of the house, and looked down.

Kiri was already awake, as well as Poi. Right now they were decidedly not looking at each other.

Something was going on. Erick had woken up to some sort of problem.

Erick decided to ignore it, for right now. He went about his normal daily routine, taking his time. Eventually he walked down the stairs to the living room. Kiri was hard at reading her books by then, while Rats, Teressa, and Poi, were all in the kitchen, as Rats pulled a dish out of the oven. It was some sort of casserole, with bacon and bread and eggs and potatoes.

Erick said, “Looks good, Rats.”

Rats said, “Heck yeah it is.” He put the huge dish on the table, saying, “Good morning.”

Poi nodded to Erick, as Teressa got out the plates and stuck a spoon into the casserole.

Erick looked over to Kiri, who continued to fastidiously read her textbook.

Erick frowned, sighed, then asked, “Okay. What’s going on here?”

Poi said, “There’s been an argument. Hocnihai wanted to come and speak to you.”

Teressa began to pile casserole onto her plate, and dug in, not bothering to participate in the conversation. Rats similarly went silent, as he too, spooned a scoop of breakfast onto his plate. Erick’s stomach rumbled as he looked to the casserole; he liked it when Rats cooked these days. Rats always made some sort of one-pot meal, and though it was never fancy, it was always good. Rats was much, much better about not making random messes, too.

But Erick had to get to the bottom of this Hocnihai problem.

Kiri continued to ignore the happenings of the kitchen, as she read her book.

Erick asked, “What’s the problem?”

Kiri eloquently spoke, “I wish to understand a man who could at one point in time, champion for the rights of dragonkin in the Republic, then find himself suborned or otherwise by the Wasteland, and turn to the Wasteland, fully. All the way killing whoever was on the other side of the line.”

“And I say she should not even consider the idea of speaking to Hocnihai in this way.” Poi said, “It’s not her place. And besides! He shouldn’t ever be here, anyway.”

“I understand that, Poi.” Kiri said, “I really do. I am fine with unanswered questions—”

A ripple expanded across the front windows; someone had tapped the [Crystalline Air] around the house, near the front door. Everyone turned to look, but it was only Powell, one of the groundskeepers, standing outside the door, holding a small package in her arms.

Poi frowned, then looked to Kiri, his eyes saying that this conversation was not over. Kiri looked right back at him, wordlessly saying the same thing. Poi walked to the door. Erick followed.

Poi opened the door, asking, “Good morning, Powell.”

“Sirs.” Powell held forward the package. It looked almost like a book, wrapped up in brown paper and tied with twine. “Archmage Hocnihai regrets to say that he is unable to uphold his bargain of trade. Matters have called him home. But he has left this. They are three separate books. The first two are an archmage’s study into [Prismatic Ward] and [Reflection]. The last is a guide on how to spot, defuse, and escape governmental or otherwise control. The last book is illegal in most of the world, just so you know.”

Poi looked down at the package in Powell’s hands. After a moment, he took it. “Thank you.”

Powell bowed, then left, walking away; her job was done.

Poi shut the door and held the delivery in his taloned hands. Lines of intent radiated from his head, inundating the plain brown package.

Erick turned on his [Detect Intent Aura], and Poi’s investigation of the delivery went from a disturbance in the manasphere, to a bright blue cascade of magic. And then it was over. Poi’s blue magic pulled back. Erick saw nothing untoward about the package, either; it looked like a plain brown-paper wrapped object, with a bit of twine to hold it all together. Erick turned off his own aura.

Poi handed the package to Erick.

Erick said, “This solves the issue of actually talking to Hocnihai.”

Kiri stood beside Erick, looking over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Erick Handy Aura’d the package apart, easily slipping three books out of the brown paper. Two of them looked like handmade leather bound journals. One had [PW] on the front in silver foil, while the other had a big [R]. The last of the three books looked like a mass produced guide. It was bound hard green leather and maybe only the size of a hand, while being as thick as a thumb. It read ‘Foreigner Mage’, and reminded Erick of a traveling bible.

A small letter slipped out of the first book, through Erick’s Handy Aura. Erick grabbed the letter with his own hands, while Poi winced to the side, almost saying something. The letter was just folded paper; no envelope, no seal.

Erick opened the paper and read.

Dear Archmage Erick Flatt of Earth, and now of Spur.

It pains me to have to forgo our planned bargain of trade. Death comes for all things, and my time is short. I am choosing to spend it with my family. Hopefully you will not begrudge this old man his final days. Hopefully, my family will benefit from the knowledge you have given me, for I have passed it all along to them.

If you wish to take the remainder of your bargain from them, they are prepared to trade. The knowledge you have given the world is much more than any one person on Veird could ever afford. My family would welcome you to the Kingdoms should you wish for further recompense, or just to visit.

Spur has always been a valued member of the Pacifist community. It is truly good to see that someone like yourself has appeared in that ancient city. The Mayor and I used to be good friends.

I hope that these journals of mine, and ‘Foreigner Mage’, will help you survive and thrive on Veird.

I was able to achieve a good version of [Prismatic Ward] back when I was your age, though I did have 30 years of magical learning under my belt by that time. Some would call my achievement with [Prismatic Ward] a great thing, but for me, it was but one moment in a very long, very confusing part of my life.

By comparison, you have achieved much more than I in a much shorter time. [Reflection] should prove no problem. [Prismatic Ward] is just a matter of perseverance.

Good Luck,

Archmage Fredar Hocnihai the Freed, of Veird.

Erick held the letter in his hands, and somehow felt a profound emptiness. He asked, “Hocnihai calls himself ‘the Freed’. What does that mean?”

Poi said, “It means he’s absolved himself of the Quiet War.”

Kiri needled, “Exactly. Which means he was okay to talk to.”

Poi ignored Kiri as he looked down to the green book. “The Foreigner Mage is a banned book in both the Republic and the Wasteland. Holding one in those lands is a cause for censure at the very least. Imprisonment and death at the worst. Though it may not look it, Hocnihai gave you a bomb, sir.”

Erick picked up the little green book. “Really?” He opened the book, and read the first few lines.

Take heed, power seeker, truth speaker, monster slayer!

The vast majority of Civilization is a brutal place, and while the walled cities of Veird are a bulwark against the darkness, a different sort of darkness lives inside those walls, and fear turns many good souls toward hate. May this guide help you navigate the traps set forth for people like you.

Foreigner Mage is a practical guide to identifying and avoiding the widely known tactics by which the many governments of Veird imprison, coerce, subjugate, and brutalize, their high-level populations, with a focus on surviving, fleeing, or negating, the chains that others may attempt to wrap around your body, and your mind.

Take care, out there!

Erick flipped through the first few chapters and saw the possibilities of what a life started in the Republic would have meant.

He already knew that if he and Jane had appeared in the Wasteland Kingdoms, instead of Spur, he and she would both be dead. But with a brief read, if what this book said was true, if Erick had displayed the ability to create new spells in the Republic, they would have either killed him as a heretic, or labeled him a ‘Dangerous Mage’, and wrapped him in tattoos that drained his mana to 0 and put him in an immediate state of Mana Exhaustion.

Erick sighed and closed the book.

Poi was still standing beside him, but Kiri had moved on to breakfast. Teressa was going for seconds, while Rats was already elsewhere.

Erick asked, “Is this book true?”

Poi said, “Probably. I haven’t read it, but I’ve heard of it.”

“Tattoos to drain mana?” Erick asked.

“Common practice for most societies.” Poi said, “It’s a temporary measure in most cases, mainly until a decision has been reached. The experience is horrific for anyone who is not a Scion of Focus. For a Scion of Focus, it just means 0 mana. Spur and a few other cities in the Crystal Forest do not do much of what is in that book; we just banish those who choose to be dangerous.”

Kiri spoke up from her seat at the table. “Hocnihai is not mottled, and his scales weren’t turning white with age, Erick. They were white from being regrown so many times, after being ripped away to inscribe tattoos upon his skin.” She said, “It’s amazing what you can find out from a few Knowledge Mages.”

Poi sighed, long and suffering. “Knowledge Mages sell their information to all sides, Kiri. This is why they’re illegal in Spur—”

Kiri said, “I know how to talk to a Knowledge—”

Poi spoke slightly louder, “Hocnihai is a dangerous man, Kiri. It’s not as simple as—”

“Hocnihai sent a man here at midnight. He wanted to come in the middle of the night to talk to you, Erick.” Kiri said, “But Poi denied him, to wait until you awoke. So instead of getting to talk to you, Hocnihai’s man returned to the archmage with a ‘no’, and the archmage went rushing off back home.” She said, “He wanted to talk to you, Erick, before he dies, and all he knows is lost forever.”

Poi said, “He came calling at midnight!”

“So what, Poi!” Kiri said, “The man is literally dying! He might already be on the pyre!”

Erick cut further argument short, saying, “Of course I couldn’t talk at midnight. But if he really was dying… A choice was made, and it’s fine.” He held Hocnihai’s books, and felt a deep sadness. “I think I would have liked to have talked to him, though.”

Kiri, wisely, remained quiet. She even managed to keep the smug look off her face.

Poi stood tall, and said, “Of course, sir. I apologize.”

“No need to be sorry, Poi. It happened, and you made a decision. Continuing to do what you do is how we’ve all survived thus far. And that is no small feat.” Erick said, “Don’t worry about it.” Erick walked over to the kitchen, saying, “Now about that breakfast. It certainly looks good.”

Erick dug in.

When Krigea showed up, Erick bade good night to Rats and Teressa, as he, Poi, and Kiri, went back to Oceanside for the day.

He left Hocnihai’s books at Windy Manor.

- - - -

Professor Tinawa Ulogai, the man in charge of both Warrior Training for Mages and Ethics for the Warrior, shouted at yet another student on the sandy arena floor. Underneath his full body, pale yellow [Conjure Armor], his words were mostly unintelligible, being as forty pairs of students loudly fought across the hundred meter space, bashing each other with staves, or swords, or whatever people felt comfortable conjuring. Some even used [Envelop Item] to protect their real swords with a layer of Force.

For the last hour, Erick had switched around from partner to partner, striking with a staff of his own, sparring with strangers, and mostly flinching. These people had no idea who he was thanks to [Conjure Armor] and a full helmet, so they treated him accordingly. Erick ended up on his back more than once, but with an 8500 point [Personal Ward], and a much stronger layer of defensive [Ward]s stretched across the arena, the chances of anyone actually suffering injury were rather small.

Erick was just another one of the students, wrapped in plain white [Conjure Armor] out to get his ass handed to him by people he had never met before. Some of the people here were clearly on the other side of that equation; they were the ones dishing out the pain. Among those dishing out the pain, was Kiri. Covered in green cloth armor and moving like a whirlwind, Kiri crashed through defenses, flipping people up and kicking them away.

And all the while, Professor Ulogai yelled at people who fought wrong. Compared to Draz’s remedial recertification classes, this was about five levels above that. And Kiri was right; a [Conjure Weapon] staff was much better than a [Conjure Item] staff.

After a morning of getting punched, kicked, tumbled, and launched, Professor Ulogai called an end to the day’s sparring.

Erick grabbed lunch with Kiri and Poi at a ‘sushi’ joint; Krigea had already moved on for the day.

“That was intense.” Erick said, picking up one of the rice balls with red fish on top. He gobbled it down. It was pretty good, but there was no soy sauce or wasabi on the table, or anywhere, as far as Erick could tell. “And this fish is good, but you guys don’t do what we do with it.”

Kiri’s eyes were bright ever since she left the arena. She picked up a piece of fish wrapped in rice and dark green seaweed, saying, “Professor Ulogai is amazing. I’ve never had such a competent instructor. He saw exactly what I was doing wrong with my feet, and it’ll take some time to get used to, but I think it’ll help a lot in the long run.” She ate her sushi.

Poi dunked strips of pink fish into a clear vinegar, before sprinkling green dust onto the slices. “This particular class is going to get much rougher. This is only the first week. In the coming weeks, you’re going to be dueling with spells. I’m not sure if you should continue this, sir.” He used two forks to put rice onto the line of fish, and then rolled it up, saying, “But maybe you should. You did… not do well out there, sir.”

Kiri laughed. “You were pretty rough out there.”

Erick smiled. “I suppose I was.”

Poi lifted his head toward Erick’s dish, asking, “What do your people do with sushi?”

“The shapes are all more or less the same.” Erick looked down to the vinegar and the spices, saying, “But we have a salty, brown liquid made from beans, and wasabi, which is just another spicy seasoning, though it’s not spicy in the normal way things are spicy— Ah… Hmm?” Erick thought. He said, “Actually, Jane once told me that the wasabi you get with sushi is usually always horseradish. I have no idea what wasabi is, but I do know the taste of horseradish. I could try to make some. I have no idea where to even begin making soy sauce, though. I’m not even going to try that.”

Poi nudged the container of green dust toward Erick. “Try this.”

“I thought you didn’t like spicy stuff anyway?” Kiri asked.

“I don’t. Normally.” Erick tried the green dust on his next piece of redfish, and sure, it was spicy, but…

Kiri said, “That stuff isn’t nearly as spicy as the stuff Erick made at Jane’s farewell party.”

“I was just about to say that the average level of spicy on Veird is not much compared to Earth.” Erick sprinkled more green dust on his sushi, saying, “But this stuff is pretty good. I like it.”

Poi’s eyes went wide as he saw how much Erick put on his sushi. Kiri frowned a little.

Erick ate his sushi, and as his eyes teared, he said, “Now that is almost wasabi.”

Kiri began a giggle, that turned into a laugh. Erick laughed, while Poi chuckled. Each of them ordered more sushi. Fresh fish like this was a real treat, after living in the desert for months.

Soon enough, it was time to go back to class.

Ethics for the Warrior was held on the same arena, with the same Professor Ulogai. Only this time some of the sands had been shifted into rough benches, and Ulogai’s pale yellow, full body armor had been transformed into casual clothing, revealing the blond-haired, blue-eyed, aged and pale human man underneath. He looked like an old general, and spoke like one, too.

Ulogai conjured a blackboard and spoke of war, and the place of the individual in that war. From Ulogai’s words, Erick gathered that almost everyone in the audience was either here pursuing an academic education, or mage work, but mostly, they were all warriors, holding the line against the monsters in the darkness, or in the forests, or in the mountains.

Ulogai spoke of battles fought against wyrms, and what to do if your partners on those battlefields should fall. He spoke, mostly, of the nature of war; war against the monsters, and war against each other. Of when enemy generals launch surprise attacks. Of when monsters invade in the middle of the night. Of when it’s a holiday, and a party of citizens reveal themselves as monsterized cannibals. Of the responsibility of the individual when everything goes wrong and all your family is dead and all you have is a thousand mana, [Fireball], a room full of enemies all around you, and no hope of escape.

Of the grim reality that so many people face, every single day, out there, in the forests and mountains and prairies and cities of Veird. Of the need to be hard, and the need to be vigilant.

Erick felt sick to his stomach. But he listened. He learned. He watched. He saw a young kid in front of him puke out all his lunch, as Ulogai went on about a nasty example involving oozes and children. Erick felt sorry for the kid, and for the people in all of Ulogai’s examples.

- - - -

Back home and feeling a lot more somber, Erick sat in his chair with Ophiel at his side and read about [Reflection], as he channeled mana across the ocean to the farms of Spur.

Hocnihai was a classically trained mage from Tower Town, and his journal reflected that, with lots of math and runic representations for both [Ward] and [Rebound], and how the skills went together. Erick did not understand how all the math fit together, but he didn’t need to know all that right now. He focused on the smaller notes in the margins, and the larger paragraphs here and there. He read about Hocnihai’s purpose; his journey as a mage in search of [Reflection].

In the beginning, Hocnihai only wanted to protect what was his. Events unfurled, and that want turned darker. Hocnihai needed to turn back the incani menace, to reflect their sins upon them, and in that singular journey, he achieved [Reflection] after his fifth try. It was easy to redirect spells back at their caster. All magic was based on Force, after all. Hocnihai did not have the best defenses in the world, but he had enough to bring the fight to the enemy. He stayed in the back, and while he mostly protected the other vulnerable casters, he also cast [Reflection] when necessary, sending fireballs, lightning, and ice spikes, all back at the enemy incani lines.

Erick took a break for dinner, then went right back to reading.

The incani incursion struck south from the forests, and from the northern shores of the Republic. The Kingdoms had gained a foothold, and exploited that land grab for all it was worth, killing villages and towns, while harrying the roads between the more distant cities. [Reflection] was not enough. Hocnihai needed [Melee Reflection], for the daggers and the swords and the spears were getting to him. He had almost died twice already.

[Melee Reflection] was not like its spell counterpart, for there was something very different between reflecting Force-derived objects, versus physical objects and other people.

Hocnihai’s breakthrough with [Melee Reflection] came after years of study, when he finally managed to construct a particularly complicated diagram joining the natures of [Reflection] and [Strike]. A Mana-based skill and a Health-based skill made for a very difficult combination. After his breakthrough, Hocnihai waded into battles without worry. He was an unstoppable Warder on a mission: to end the Incani menace forever, for they had taken his brother, mother, and father, and he would take everything from them.

Erick set the book down, and looked at the book for [Prismatic Ward]. He almost picked it up, but it was late. Too late to read more about how one man had fallen to the darkness inside himself, and decided to reflect that darkness back on any who would chose to fight him. Obviously, Hocnihai eventually switched sides, but that was a story for another day.

So Erick went to bed.

When he woke up, he started in on the second book.

[Prismatic Ward] needed considerably more math to understand than [Reflection], and left almost no room for any commentary. How could it, when seven spells were involved, all at once? Entire sections of the journal detailed how each piece of Shaping magic had to be stripped down to their barest, purest essentials, and then locked together, all at once in some difficult, complicated—

Kiri said, “Erick? We’re going to be late.” She added, “If you want to go to Spatial Magic again, that is. That stuff was dense. Culture and Law seemed okay, though.” She lamented, “Enchanting was a drag. That guy just taught from the book, exactly how my old enchanting professor taught. That was a disappointment.”

Erick set down Hocnihai’s [Prismatic Ward] book, and said, “I barely understand this anyway. Let’s go to class.”