3. The Bitter Truth

Chapter 003
The Bitter Truth

If someone had asked Zorian at the end of the first week what classes he thought he would have the most trouble with, he would have answered Spell Formulas and Advanced Mathematics. Combat magic maybe. Two weeks later, he could safely say the answer was ‘Warding’.

Warding, the art of protecting things with magic, was a surprisingly complex field. You had to take into account what the thing you’re trying to protect is made of, what its dimensions and geometry were, how the ward is going to react with the already existing magic… or you could just slap a general-purpose warding invocation on your target and hope for the best. But the professor would fail you for that answer, so that wasn’t an option in the classroom.

But these complexities aside, the class should have been a breeze, or at least not this confusing – Zorian was a patient, methodical person when it came to magecraft, and had slogged through worse offenders than warding with decent results. The problem was that their teacher, a stern woman with hair cut so short she might as well have gone all the way and shaved her head completely, didn’t know how to teach. At all. Oh, she clearly knew the subject matter very well, but she simply didn’t know how to translate that knowledge into a proper lecture. She was leaving a lot of things out of her lectures, apparently not realizing that just because they were obvious to her, they were not obvious to her students. The textbook she assigned for the class wasn’t much better, and read more like a manual for a professional warder than a student’s textbook.

Question 6: You are tasked with building a research outpost on a first degree mana well in the Sarokian Highlands. The building is meant to support a staff of 4 at any particular time, and the prospectors have expressed concerns over heavy presence of winter wolf packs and an infestation of borer wasps in the surrounding area. You have a budget of 25.000 pieces and are assumed to be a certified second circle warder.

Assuming only mana extracted from mana well is available for powering the wards, which combination of wards do you feel would be the best choice for the outpost? Explain your reasoning.

Draw basic floor-plans of the planned outpost and explain how the planned room placement and shape of the building itself affect ward effectiveness.

Do you think the issue of the borer wasp infestation is best resolved by using a vermin repellant ward or by careful choice of building materials? Explain your reasoning.

Assume that you are commissioned to build not one but five outposts. The budget remains the same. How does this change your answer? Do you believe it is better to make the wards identical for all five outposts or do you feel some amount of difference between them is in order? Explain the advantages and disadvantages of each approach.

Zorian rubbed his eyes in frustration. How was he supposed to answer a question like this? He didn’t take the architecture elective, and wasn’t aware that you had to take it to do well in your warding class. Not to mention that the question assumed they knew what the market rates were for buying the necessary materials, or that they knew where the Sarokian Highlands were. Zorian was quite good at geography, and he had no idea, though considering the presence of monsters like winter wolves, he suspected they were somewhere in the northern forest.

At the very least he knew how to answer the third part of the question. The correct answer was definitely wards. Even if the outpost was made inedible to borer wasp larvae, it would still make a prime place to build a nest. Considering how territorial those insects were, you didn’t want them living anywhere near you. Theoretically, the ‘careful choice of materials’ options would free up mana that would otherwise be spent on maintaining vermin repellant wards, but those wards required very little mana flow to stay active. Especially if they were keyed specifically to borer wasps.

His thoughts were interrupted by a girlish giggle coming from the back of the classroom. Zorian didn’t even have to turn around to know what was happening – Zach was entertaining the students around him again. He wished the teacher would penalize the guy for the disruption he was causing, especially in the middle of an exam, but Zach was a bit of a darling to the stern woman because he was the only student acing her exams. No doubt the guy had already finished his test with 100% accuracy. Which, by the way, made no sense whatsoever – during their first two years, Zach was a below-average student more distinguished because of his charm than magical talent. Kind of like a nicer version of Fortov, actually. This year, though, he was acing everything. Everything. He had a wealth of knowledge and a work ethic he hadn’t had at the end of their second year, far in excess of what could be gained through the normal passage of time.

How does one get so much better in the span of a single summer?

15 minutes later he threw his pencil down on the table, calling it quits. He only filled in eight out of ten questions, and he wasn’t sure how correct these eight were, but it would have to do. He would have to set aside a couple of days for warding self-study, because the lectures were making less and less sense with every passing day. The only other student that stayed in the classroom as long as he did was Akoja, and she handed in her paper only a few seconds after he did and followed him outside. Of course, they stayed in the classroom so long for very different reasons. He stayed so he could scrape in a few stray points. She stayed because she was a perfectionist who wanted to triple check everything to make sure she didn’t forget anything.

“Zorian, wait!”

Zorian slowed down and allowed Akoja to catch up to him. The girl could be insufferable sometimes, but she was a good person overall and he didn’t want to snap at her just because the test didn’t go the way he wanted.

“How do you think you did back there?” she asked.

“Badly,” he answered, not seeing the point in lying.

“Yeah, me too.”

Zorian rolled his eyes. His and her definition of ‘badly’ differed greatly.

“Neolu finished in only half an hour,” said Akoja after a brief silence. “I bet she’ll get a perfect score again.”

“Ako…” Zorian sighed.

“I know everyone thinks I’m jealous but that’s not normal!” said Akoja in a hushed but agitated voice. “I’m pretty smart and I study all the time and I’m still having problems with the curriculum. And we’ve both been in the same class as Neolu for the past two years and she was never this good. And… and now she’s beating me in every single class!”

“Kind of like Zach,” said Zorian.

“Exactly like Zach!” she agreed. “They even hang out together, two of them and one other girl I don’t know, behaving like… like they’re in their own private little world.”

“Or like they’re a couple,” said Zorian, before frowning. “Triple? What’s the word for a romantic relationship between 3 people?”

Akoja scoffed. “Whatever. The point is the three of them do nothing but waste time together and antagonize the teachers and get perfect scores anyway. They even refused the chance to get transferred to 1^st tier groups, can you believe that!?”

“You’re too worked up over this,” Zorian warned.

“Aren’t you a little bit curious how they do it?” asked Akoja.

“Of course I am,” scoffed Zorian. “It’s hard not to be. But what can I do about it? Besides, Zach has never done anything to me. I don’t want to cause problems for him just because he has suddenly discovered his inner prodigy.”

Zorian felt Benisek join them suddenly, simply popping up from behind a corner so he could walk beside them. Sometimes Zorian wondered if the chubby boy could smell gossip.

“I know what you mean,” Benisek said. “I always thought Zach was no good at anything. You know, like me?”

“Hah. Well there’s no way he got this good at everything over one summer break,” Zorian said. “I guess he was pulling the wool over our eyes all this time.”

“Man, that’s so stupid,” said Benisek. “If I were that good I’d make sure everyone knew it.”

“I don’t think he was faking lack of skill for two years straight,” Akoja huffed. “He would have slipped at least occasionally.”

“Well, what’s left then?” Zorian asked. He refrained from listing some of the more obscure ways such a rapid growth could be accomplished with magic, because most of them were criminal and he was sure the academy checked Zach to make sure he wasn’t a shapeshifting imposter or possessed by the ghost of a long-dead mage.

“Maybe he knows the answers in advance,” she suggested.

“Only if he’s an oracle,” Benisek said. “Boole gave him an oral exam last Tuesday when you went home early, and he was rattling off answers like he swallowed the textbook.”

The conversation died down as all three filed into the alchemy classroom, which was really more of a big alchemy workshop than a typical classroom. There were about 20 tables, each one full of various containers and other equipment. All ingredients for the day’s lesson were already set out in front of them, though some would require additional preparation before they could be used in whatever process they were learning about that day – he was pretty sure they weren’t going to be putting live cave crickets into the boiling solution, for instance.

Alchemy, like warding, was a complicated art, but their alchemy teacher knew her stuff and knew how to teach, so Zorian wasn’t having any issues with the class. Technically they had to work in groups of 2 or 3 students because there were not enough tables and equipment, but Zorian always paired up with Benisek which translated to working alone in practice. The only problem was getting Benisek to shut up and stop distracting him during class.

“Hey Zorian,” Benisek whispered to him not so quietly. “I never noticed it until now, but our teacher is kind of hot!”

Zorian gritted his teeth. The blasted idiot couldn’t keep his voice down if his life was on the line. There was no way she didn’t hear that.

“Benisek,” he whispered back to his partner. “I need good grades in alchemy to get my dream job when I graduate. If you screw this up for me I will never speak to you again.”

Benisek grumbled mutinously before returning to his ogling. Zorian refocused on grinding the borer wasp husks into a fine powder needed for the particular type of glue they were supposed to be making.

Admittedly, Azlyn Marivoski did look surprisingly good for a 50-year-old woman. Some kind of cosmetic treatment probably – she was their alchemy teacher, after all. Maybe even a true youth potion, though those were really rare and usually imperfect in some way.

“I don’t see why you like this class so much,” grumbled Benisek. “I’m not even sure I’d call it magical. You don’t need mana for it. It’s all searching for herbs this, cutting the roots the right way that… it’s like cooking. Hell, we’re making glue, of all things. You should leave that to girls.”

“Benisek…”

“It’s true!” he protested. “Even our teacher is a girl. A hot girl, but still. I read somewhere that alchemy traces its roots back to witches’ covens, with their potions and what not. Even now the best alchemical families are descended from witches. I bet you didn’t know that, huh?”

As a matter of fact, he did know that. He was, after all, tutored in alchemy by an honest-to-gods traditional witch before he went to the academy. She was so traditional, in fact, that she scoffed at the name ‘alchemy’ and referred to her skill strictly as ‘potion making’.

But that wasn’t the sort of stuff you wanted people to know, for a wide variety of reasons.

“If you don’t shut up right now I won’t let you partner with me anymore,” Zorian told him seriously.

“Hey!” protested Benisek. “Who’s going to help me with that stuff, then? I’m not good at this!”

“I don’t know,” said Zorian innocently. “Maybe you should find some girl to help you.”

Fortunately, the teacher was currently too busy fawning over Zach’s newest masterpiece to pay attention to Zorian’s table – somehow the boy managed to make some kind of enhancement potion out of the provided ingredients, and that was apparently very impressive. Azlyn didn’t appear to mind that Zach completely ignored the assignment to make magical glue and did his own thing.

Zorian shook his head and tried to concentrate on his own work. He wondered whether he would have gotten the same reaction if he did something like that, or if he would be accused of showing off. The few times Zorian tried to wow the teachers he was simply told to work on his basics and not to get cocky, because arrogance kills. Was it because Zach was the heir of Noble House Noveda? Or something else?

It was in moments like these that he understood exactly how Akoja felt about all this.

– break –

“And that concludes today’s lesson,” said Ilsa. “Before you leave, however, I have an announcement to make. As some of you know, the Academy traditionally organizes a dance on the eve of the summer festival. This year is no exception. The dance will take place in the entrance hall next Saturday. For those of you who are unaware, attendance is mandatory this year.”

Zorian groaned, slamming his forehead into the table in front of him, causing the rest of the class to snicker. Ilsa pointedly ignored his reaction.

“For those of you who don’t know how to dance, dance lessons will be held every day at eight in the evening in room six. Those of you who do know how to dance still have to come to at least one of these lessons to prove so – I will not have you embarrass me on the night of the dance. Dismissed. Miss Stroze, mister Kazinski, stay after class please.”

“Oh great,” Zorian mumbled. He probably should have restrained himself from reacting so strongly to the pronouncement. Truthfully, he intended to skip the dance, regardless of how mandatory it was. Did Ilsa realize that? No, he could detect no disapproval in posture, and he was pretty sure she’d be rather annoyed if she sensed his plans.

“Now then…” Ilsa began when he and Akoja were the only students left. “I assume you both know how to dance?”

“Sure,” said Zorian.

“Umm…” Akoja fidgeted. “I’m not very good at it.”

“No matter,” Ilsa said. “We’ll iron out any gaps you may have easily enough. The reason I told you to stay behind is that I want you to help me with the dance lessons.”

Zorian considered refusing outright – it wasn’t something he wanted to spend his time on – but he figured this could be a favor that would make Ilsa forgive him a transgression or two. Like, say, not showing up to the mandatory dance? Before he could express his tentative agreement, however, Akoja decided in his place.

“How can we help?” she said, clearly pleased they were chosen for this ‘honor’. Zorian raised an eyebrow at the way she presumed to speak for him, but let it slide for the moment.

“We only have five days to teach everyone how to dance,” Ilsa said. “That’s why we’re going to use magic to help.”

“Animation spells,” Zorian guessed.

“Yes,” Ilsa said, then quickly moved to explain for Akoja’s benefit. “There is a spell that will guide a person’s limbs and body through whatever dance it is designed for. It’s not really suitable as a substitute for dancing skill, but if you practice dancing while you’re under its effects, you will learn a lot faster than you would otherwise.”

“How does that work?” Akoja asked curiously.

“The spell moves you around like a puppet on a string until you learn how to move along with it, if only to make the feeling of something jerking you around go away,” said Zorian. “Eventually you no longer need the spell to dance correctly.”

“I see you have personal experience with this method,” Ilsa said with a smile.

Zorian resisted the urge to scowl. Getting put under that spell by Daimen was one of his childhood traumas. It wasn’t amusing at all.

“I sincerely hope you intend to give students a choice to refuse,“ Zorian said.

“Of course,” Ilsa agreed. “Though, those who refuse this method will have to attend at least three sessions instead of one, so I expect most will choose this option instead of the traditional one. In any case, I want you two to help me cast the spell on people during the lessons. I expect I’ll have to dispel and recast the spell often, and I could use some help.”

“And why did you choose us, specifically?” Zorian asked.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“You both have decent control over your magic and you seem responsible enough to be taught such a spell. Animation spells targeting people are restricted material, after all, and not something normally available to students.”

Huh. So how did Daimen get a hold of it then? In his second year, no less?

Well, whatever. At least knowing how to cast the spell will make it easier to counter it in the future.

“Anything else?” Ilsa asked. “Very well, then. Come to my office after the last class and I’ll set up some dummies for you to practice on before moving on to people. Poorly controlled, the spell is intensely uncomfortable. We don’t want to give anyone traumas.”

Zorian narrowed his eyes. He didn’t. Not even Daimen would… oh, who is he kidding? Of course he would have. Practicing such a spell on your own little brother was right up Daimen’s alley.

“Miss Stroze, you can leave – I have something else to discuss with mister Kazinski.”

Ilsa began to speak the moment Akoja was gone, catching Zorian somewhat by surprise. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, trying to ignore his annoyance with Daimen in favor of paying attention to what Ilsa was saying.

“So Zorian,” she said with a faint smile. “How are you getting along with your mentor?”

“He’s having me work on my basic three,” Zorian told her flatly. “We’re still on the levitation exercise.”

Yes, even after 4 weeks, Xvim was still making him levitate a pencil over and over again. Start over. Start over. Start over. The only thing Zorian learned in those sessions was how to dodge marbles that Xvim kept throwing at him. The jerk seemed to have an endless supply of those things.

“Yes, Professor Xvim likes his students to have a firm grasp of the basics before moving on to advanced topics,” Ilsa agreed.

That or he hates his students. Zorian personally thought his theory was a lot more plausible.

“Well, I just wanted to tell you that you might be able to change mentors soon,” Ilsa said. “One of my students will be dropping out after the summer festival, and I’ll have a vacancy to fill. Unless something comes up, you’re almost certain to be the one I pick. That is, if you’re actually interested in a transfer.”

“Of course I’m interested!” Zorian half-shouted, much to Ilsa’s amusement. He frowned for a moment. “Unless you also plan to throw marbles at me? Is that some kind of standard training method?”

“No,” Ilsa chuckled. “Xvim is special that way. Well, I just wanted to see how you feel about this before doing anything. Have a nice day.”

It was only after he was out of the classroom that he realized this development greatly complicated his plan to skip out on the dance. He couldn’t afford to annoy his (potential) new mentor too much, else he’d be stuck with Xvim for the rest of his education.

Well played, professor. Well played.

– break –

“Why can’t we just cast that spell ourselves once the dancing starts?”

Zorian let out a long-suffering sigh. “You can’t make an animation spell do something you don’t know how to do yourself. You don’t know how to dance, hence you cannot animate anyone to dance either. Also, how are you going to break the spell once the dance ends if you can’t move your arms where you want them to be? This really isn’t the sort of spell you should be casting on yourself.”

Really, there were so many problems with that idea that Zorian struggled to put them all into words. Are these people thinking about the questions they’re asking at all?

“So how many dances do we have to learn?”

“Ten,” said Zorian, bracing himself for the cries of outrage.

Sure enough, a rumble of complaints erupted after that statement. Thankfully, Ilsa took over the lesson at this point, instructing everyone to pair up and scatter throughout the spacious room to give everyone enough space. Zorian could already feel a headache coming and cursed himself from letting Ilsa talk him into this. Even though room six was fairly spacious, there were a lot of people and the invisible pressure they gave off was particularly strong today.

“You alright?” Benisek asked, putting his hand on Zorian’s shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Zorian said, waving his hand off. He didn’t like to be touched much. “I just have a slight headache. Did you need help with something?”

“Nah, you just looked like you could use some company, standing all alone in your little corner,” Benisek said. Zorian decided not to tell him that he was intentionally standing on the sidelines unless he was needed. Benisek wasn’t the sort of person who understood the need for some breathing room. “Say, who is your date for the dance anyway?”

Zorian suppressed a groan. Of course Benisek would want to talk about that.

Relationships weren’t something Zorian thought about often. The chances that one of his classmates would agree to date him were miniscule. For one, such a relationship would quickly be noticed by the rest of their classmates, and the resulting merciless teasing was something few relationships could survive for any appreciable length. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, all teenage girls liked older guys. Dating a guy that was two or three years her senior seemed to be a status symbol for a girl, and a majority of them loudly disparaged the male population their own age as crass and immature. When they were in their first year, all the girls wanted to date third years. Now that they were in their third year, all the girls wanted to date apprenticed graduates. Since there were plenty of guys willing to play along, the chances that some girl in his class would give him the time of day was negligible.

And the girls that weren’t his classmates? To most of them he wasn’t Zorian Kazinski, but ‘that guy who is a brother of Daimen and Fortov Kazinski’. They had this image of what he ought to be like, and once it became obvious that the real him didn’t match their expectations, they inevitably became upset.

Besides, all this romantic stuff… well.