I’m already back in my seat on the pew when I see my father and Father Tucker return. The cleric offers me a wave, saying, “Ho, Sammy boy! Sorry to keep you waiting. Your father and I just had a very interesting discussion.” The cleric turns towards my father, giving the man a wink.
“What about?” I ask, donning an innocent face.
“Oh, adult matters,” the cleric replies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, “Very adult matters indeed. For example, like-” He leans in towards me, slowly lifting his hands. Then without warning, his fingers dig into my sides and start to wiggle. “-like how to tickle!”
Despite my best attempts, I burst out giggling, and I can even feel tears coming to my eyes. “Father Tucker, stop! I give! I give!”
The cleric relents, allowing me to catch my breath, and as I do so, I hear him say, “Sammy, I have a few toys here in the church. Would you like to play with them?”
Though I know his intent, I don’t fault the man for his half-truth. In fact, if it can reveal the reality of the town hall incident, I’m more than willing to do any test necessary. My gray eyes light up with excitement, and a smile captures my lips. “Yay! Sure!” I chirp.
The cleric gives my father a nod, then turns to me and says, “Wait here just one second, okay? I’ll go fetch them.” A few minutes later, he returns, two items wrapped between his arms. He gestures us to a nearby table, then sets his load down.
The first is a piece of white parchment, rolled between two wooden dowels, with a width typical of printer paper found on Earth. This, I presume, is the Scroll of Intrinsicality. The other is a clear sphere, made of what looks like glass, the size of a large snow globe. The Orb of Potentiation.
Father Tucker reaches for the parchment, unrolling it across the table. The inside is completely blank, which seems odd to me. Before I can ponder it further, however, I notice the cleric reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a needle, and holding it to me, he says, “Sammy, the way this toy works, I need to prick your finger for some blood, okay? This will only hurt a little.” I nod, offering the priest my chubby, short forefinger. A little jab later, and a small, red drop of blood emerges.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Now I need you to write some words onto the paper,” he replies. He instructs me on which runic letters to inscribe, after which I am told how to activate the item.
“[Identify]!” I say, calling out the word given to me. Then to my surprise, I see the letters I wrote in blood slowly start to disappear from the sheet, like they are being washed away by some invisible fluid, and it’s not long after that the scroll is entirely white once more. “Awesome!” I exclaim, the show of magic giving me an adrenaline rush. When I turn to Father Tucker, however, I see that the man does not share my enthusiasm. Instead, a perplexed frown stretches his face. “Um, not awesome?” I say slowly, “Um, did I do wrong?”
Father Tucker looks up at me, away from his thoughts. “No, I don’t think so,” he says, likewise slow, “The item activated. It’s just, well, this simply can’t be. The results, that is. Maybe the item has aged poorly? Ceased to function properly?” Turning to my father, the cleric says, “Mayor Becker, if you will?”
My father nods. He takes the needle, pricks his own finger and begins inscribing the scroll. Meanwhile, the cleric turns to me and says, “Sammy, I want to teach you something very important. Now, you might not understand everything I’m about to explain, but I’d like you to listen nonetheless. Okay?” When he sees me nod, he continues, “This toy is called a ‘Scroll of Intrinsicality’. It allows one to assess one’s magical aptitude.”
“Magical aptitude?”
“Yes. I don’t know if you’ve ever wondered what ‘magic’ actually is, but think of it as like the air we breathe. It’s everywhere, surrounding us, invisible, like a web, like a weave. When a wizard casts a spell, he reaches into that magical energy, shaping it to his will. And the more attuned he is to that magic, the more he perceives it, feels it, the greater will be his capabilities and his chances of success. Now, certainly part of a wizard’s attunement to magic comes from his practice, his labours and his experience. But an even greater part is innate, and whether through blood or blessing, this innate attunement is what is known as ‘magical aptitude’. Does this make sense?”
I give a hesitant nod, trying to process the info dump. Father Tucker appears to notice this, compelling him to continue.
“Those with stronger legs run faster. Those with larger lungs dive deeper. Those with better eyes see farther. In the same, those with greater magical aptitude are more attuned to the weave that surrounds us, conferring advantage in offense, defense and plethitude. There have also been documents showing that wizards of high magical aptitude can develop, ‘Side Effects’, let’s call them, due to their constant reception to the weave. This is what we would like to determine for you, Sammy, to see if you have a ‘Side Effect’ that may explain what occurred in the town hall yesterday.”
“I see. I has high aptitude maybe. So what suppose happen?” I ask, pointing to the scroll.
“A Scroll of Intrinsicality changes color, depending on the degree of magical aptitude of its user. This color can then be assigned a rank, which serves as part of a wizard’s status and title in the industry of magic. The average wizard can typically grow to a rank of [Adept], indicated by the color orange. A pure beginner or ill-attuned in magic will be red, indicating [Novice]. For someone like your father, Mayor Becker…” The priest pauses, gesturing to my father to activate the item.
“[Identify],” my father says. Instantly, the runic lettering begins to dissolve from the parchment, as it had done with mine. Unlike mine, however, what is left is not a white page, but rather, dark yellow streaks, like residuals of the wash. Then after a minute, these streaks too disappear.
“Yellow,” the cleric announces, “indicates a wizard of [Veteran] aptitude. This already makes your father stronger than your typical wizard, hence his induction into the king’s court.”
“Are there wizards powerful more?” I ask, curious.
“Beyond [Veteran], there is [Master], which will show green, and beyond that still is [Sage], which will show blue. These two ranks, however, are exceedingly rare. They make for the stuff of legends, and there are perhaps only a handful in all of Arcadia, though I’d imagine you’d find a few amongst the SSS-Ranked adventurers beyond the Forbidden Sea. But I digress. Returning to the matter at hand, it seems the item is still in working order, since it identified your father correctly. Maybe it just needed some warming up. Sammy, perhaps you can try again?”
I nod, then repeat the process of inscribing my blood, activating the item once I’m finished. “[Identify]!” The lettering washes away, and as before, only a white page is left behind. I recall the colors and rankings given to me by the cleric:
Red is [Novice].
Orange is [Adept].
Yellow is [Veteran].
Green is [Master].
Blue is [Sage].
Then turning to him, I ask, “Father Tucker, what ‘white’ mean?”
I see the priest give me a perplexed expression, scratching his head as he responds.
“It means [Defective].”
Yeah, defective must mean godly.