“You are putting much too many rin into the temperature. How did you pass the first band? Pull back now.”

 

I gritted my teeth and refocused on the casting construct in my mind and slightly reduced the mana. Wisps of blue energy floated from finger to finger in the rough shape of snowflake crystals, somehow glinting orange in the lantern light. 

 

Amelia truly hadn’t been kidding when she’d talked about starting immediately, and had promptly dragged me out to a training hall a floor below the throne room. She’d refused to hear any pleas that we wait, or even to entertain any questions not related to magic. No, she’d instead performed a rudimentary test of my skills and in a move that had felt incredibly familiar had quickly come to the conclusion that I should start from the very beginning. 

 

Right back to casting exercises.

 

“You have the movements of a small Mistren child.” Amelia floated around me like a ghost, correcting my arm position from behind. “And yet you seem to know the exercises already. Are you simply lazy? I would fear for the whole plateau if all the east share your drive.”

 

“There really hasn’t been too much time to practice.” I muttered, clenching my teeth. “It’s been kind of… hmm… illegal.”

 

It was a pretty room, in my opinion. It was open to the city on one end, with a stone balcony jutting out underneath the massive rock overhead. There was a cool, soothing breeze from the west, and it brought with it the refreshing smell of wind and leaves. The room itself was made entirely of stone, which was unusual in Minua, but it still kept warm. The ceiling arched up to a point in the center, and was carried upon sturdy supports, and it was there that Gideon lay snoozing. White light flooded out of the magic lanterns hanging around the room, but most of the light came from the outside sun. It was a peaceful room, at direct odds with everything that was happening in it.

 

I muffled a cry of pain as Amelia grabbed my elbow and roughly jerked it back into position.

 

“And yet you’ve picked up almost half a dozen spells already. Although excessively mediocre, your grasp of casting theory is far beyond what I would expect from a beginner. Most at this stage would not be able to pick up new spells so swiftly.”

 

I held silent on that, though internally I felt a little irritated. The whole concept of casting a new spell wasn’t actually that hard when you wrapped your mind around how it actually worked. The books I’ve read here in Elys would have you believe that you needed to imagine a wholly unique casting construct with special forms for each new one, but the reality was much simpler. Instead, you could think of each one as a collection of inputs and outputs intertwined in basic ways, all imagined in whatever way you wanted to. A small spell might only have an ‘energy’ and a ‘force’ input while a complicated one needed the caster to place perhaps a dozen fonts of magic. It was one reason why a finely crafted spell was so much easier to cast than an amateurish one- the better ones were able to cut out to combine unnecessary inputs.

 

But I wasn’t the originator of that knowledge. That understanding had come entirely out of the grimoire back on Earth, which I had come to realise had a slightly more advanced understanding of magic than the people here did, even if it was less used. That understanding, plus the year of experience I had back on Earth, meant that it was easier for me to pick up new spells than was probably to be expected.

 

“It shouldn’t be so malleable, in any case.” Amelia said. “Your grasp on the construct is too weak, too fluid. It means you’ll be slower to the cast. It is a weakness.”

 

“Is it not better to be adaptive?” I asked, pointedly morphing the exercise to shine brighter. 

 

“It makes you slow. Experienced thaumaturges will cast circles around you.”

 

I thought back to the few duels I’d had so far. To be honest, most of them had been won by either surprise or a resource advantage, but I really hadn’t been under the impression that anyone I’d fought had been plain faster than me. Except for Andril and the Phoenix knight, that is, but both of them had been learning magic for far longer than I had. Perhaps actual soldiers were closer to those two then cultists.

 

I let the magic flicker and morph again, already bored with such a mundane task. I hadn’t been listening for the bells, but it could’ve sworn we’d spent the better part of two hours on it, and I was ready to be done with it all so I could eat some dinner.

 

“Start from the beginning.” Amelia commanded. “And keep it steady this time.”

 

I almost dropped it entirely as irritation flooded through me, and for a moment I thought about just stomping out. Instead, I began it again.

 

“Would it be too much to ask to have you show me different spells instead?” I asked. “I know the basics are considered important, but surely we don’t have time to have me go through classical training, right? We only have a few months.”

 

“‘Considered important’?” Amelia asked. “They are important. You simply cannot continue without a good grasp of what makes a good mage. It will kill you one day, and it would be a stain on my honour if that were allowed to happen. Start it again.”

 

“…of course.”

 

The trope of this situation wasn’t lost on me, unfortunately. I’d read enough books to know that this was supposed to be a ‘lesson’ on how important the fundamentals were, and snapping out at her would only result in her challenging me to a duel to prove it or something equally disingenuous. I’d lose that of course, but not because she was right, but for the oceanic gulf of experience between us. But the thing was, I knew she was wrong here, as equally as I had known my last ‘teacher’ had been. 

 

Yes, memorising the ‘correct’ way to cast a spell would grant me speed and strength, and yes I was sure that it was the best way this world had found to fight duels and use thaumaturges in mass combat. They’d used thaumaturges in war for millennia, after all.

 

But I was also sure that was only because they used fire.

 

Fire was an inherently aggressive element, something that was made plainly obvious by this world’s reliance on shield masks and dodging to defeat their opponent’s spells. The few defensive spells they did have seemed to have specific counters and weaknesses, as evident by how several of my spells had simply passed through that cultist’s shield when we’d duelled before the portal. This meant that fights would naturally be reliant on who casted first and most accurately, rather than countering your opponent’s spells. 

 

With ice, this is reversed. 

 

I’d fought plenty of battles back on Earth to know how it normally played out, and those fights had all been much more reliant on either counterspelling or by making sure you had some other advantage. Physical ice shields would block most attacks, and those that they couldn’t typically made it incredibly obvious that you had to dodge them. That meant that battles were longer, and improvising your spells or tools to specifically counteract your opponent’s defences was of much more value than simply throwing twice as many useless icicles at your enemy than they did. And I was pretty sure that with a good defensive spell I’d be able to replicate the same conditions here.

 

But complaining about it now wouldn’t prove me right. I knew I couldn’t beat her without learning a few more spells, and she seemed adamant on having me go through the basics. I’d just have to study on my own and show her what I meant before she would show me the finer details. Even if she was going to be rude.

 

Seriously, did she really have to be a jerk about it? Was it an [elf] thing? Maybe it was just in the Mistren DNA to be haughty about everything. Even Hosi had been like that whenever she’d spoken about certain topics. 

 

Really, her attitude almost completely dispelled whatever charm she had. Maybe she even deserved Andril.

 

“Lady Amelia, just how is Mistre, anyway?”

 

I’d always wondered if there was an actual difference between the kingdoms, and if they’d split apart for some reason other than chance. Andril had spoken of how they’d all been one empire at some point, after all, so what had forced them to separate? 

 

Amelia corrected my arm again, staying behind me. 

 

“I don’t think that has much to do with magic, Saphry.”

 

“It seems kind of magical to me.” I said, trying my utmost to keep the magic from falling. “Are Mistren’s human?”

 

Amelia lightly smacked the back of my head, and the magic fell like glinting icicles to the ground.

 

“Do I need to work on etiquette as well? Do they neglect all forms of education in Summark?”

 

I whirled around to glare at my new teacher, finding only a glint of amusement behind her piercing eyes.

 

“Is attacking me funny?” I demanded. “If I really am a divine gift of the Star, you people are doing a really poor way of showing it.”

 

“If you really are a gift of the Star, would it not be more appropriate that you speak like it? If the great dukes were to see you speaking so brazenly they’d lose their faith on the spot.”

 

I held back a sigh. 

 

I really should’ve done better hiding it, I knew now. Having the general public care about you was already such an unbelievable pain, and I hadn’t even left the keep yet. Was this just to be my life from now on? To be expected to be proper and neat? I’d almost rather that the demon have killed me.

 

“I apologise. I instead entreat you: have all thy countrymen’s scholars divined some reason, by geneology or chance, as to why thee look so… unique? I mean-ith no harmth, oh no! But thy ears do inspire questions in such ignorance like mine.”

 

I finished it off with a deep bow, as elegant as I could manage.

 

Amelia stared down at me like I was simple for a second before smacking my forehead again.

 

“Are all Summarkan’s like this?” She asked

 

“Only the neat ones.”

 

Amelia looked at me for a while, matching my eyes. I tried not to fidget as she studied me, and after a second she sighed and offered me a casting staff.

 

“We’ve wasted enough time.” Amelia said. “Let us continue. From the beginning.”

…

I fell face first into the pillows for the third day in a row, exhausted. 

 

“She’s gonna kill me.” I gasped. “I won’t make it to spring, let alone to Morevechi!”

 

Today had been a particularly torturous day, with the villainous [elf] waking me up before the fifth bell to work me through exercises until well after lunch. And even then the pain hadn’t stopped, because she had then seen fit to instruct me on heraldry and geography after I’d failed to recognize a banner in the hallway. It was only near sunset that I’d managed to slink away back to my room.

 

And nor did my irritations end when she was not instructing me either. Duke Belvan had seen fit to assign five guards to rotate a watch over me at all times, as well as a personal priest to check up on my health. And though my antics in avoiding them had already grown quite sophisticated, their patience for such behaviour had not.

 

It doesn’t look that bad. Gideon said from the end of the bed. You’ve made notable improvements already.

 

“I suppose. It’s better than the underground city, at least.”

 

That was still a topic that brought no end of confusion every time I thought about it. Who kidnapped someone to teach them, anyway? Talk about aggressive help.

 

And neither did Hans, the Mavericks, or anyone else I'd been able to offer any real explanation for it either. Obviously the library raid had outed me to Lord Agos and his goons, but what reason could he have for doing something like that? Was he planning on indoctrinating me and didn’t have the chance? And if so, was that really so different from what Andril and the rebellion was doing now?

 

“Whatever. I’ll feel better after a good rest anyway.”

 

I closed my eyes, eager for the sweet release of sleep, only for Gideon’s intrusive thoughts to ricochet between my ears.

 

And no more memory transfers have happened then? Saphry hasn’t come to haunt your dreams?

 

I peeked an eye back open.

 

“Nope. Three days Saphry free. Do you think I get a pin at sixty?”

 

Gideon paced up and down the bed.

 

It's definitely related to the glass tiara then. I suppose we were right.

 

“Crown.” I corrected. “Though I’d wager you’re correct about that. They definitely stopped after our run in with Izavelo.”

 

Which was in all honesty a pretty shit boon. After all, Gideon got his neat illusion scale, so why was I stuck with the lame memory suppressor? And really, wasn’t it actually a debuff anyway? If the demon had been able to knock off the crown mid battle, that probably would’ve been the end of me right there.

 

Though I guess I should be happy that mine had an effect at all. The Mavericks still didn’t know what their boons did, and might never learn.

 

Ah, but it did help with sleep though, and for that I could only be thankful. Now if only I could get some rest before tomorrow…

 

Do you want to test it?

 

I opened my right eye again with a sigh.

 

“Test what? Was the demon not a test enough? What else could you want from it?”

 

Gideon looked away for a few moments, an unreadably draconic expression on his face.

 

Do you think it might work with other people? 

 

My gaze softened as I realised what he wanted.

 

It was easy to forget that Gideon had the very same problem that I used to, only ten times worse. Instead of the ten or eleven snippets I had from Saphry’s life, he had complained before of hundreds, of sometimes untold hours of it. In fact, it was surprising that he didn’t complain more. Or that he hadn’t asked to try this very thing before.

 

“Eh, sorry about that.” I sat up and frowned. “It hasn’t budged since the demon incident.”

 

What? It got locked to your head already?

 

“Was already refastened before I woke up.” I confirmed. “The priest even mentioned that the castle staff couldn’t remove it when they were healing me.”

 

To empathize the point, I grabbed the translucent feather and yanked with all my force, managing only to screw up my hair a little more. Gideon looked away again, crestfallen. 

 

 Really? That’s… a shame. 

 

He laid down at the end of the bed again, a rare melancholic mood around him. Even worse, I wasn’t sure what I could say to make him feel better either. There was little else he could do but avoid sleep or deal with it.

 

And next to that issue, my justified hatred of organised learning seemed to be of little consequence now. It truly was such a minor issue if you really thought about it, so much so that I felt a little ashamed to even complain about it.

 

Oh well. The most I could do was try as hard as I could at training so that we could blitz through this war and earn ourselves a [gold] expedition and a way back home as soon as possible. And the first step to that was sleep.

 

I closed my eyes yet another time, and laid down on the pillow.

 

“-window latch. Auro, don't push! And be quiet, sister.”

 

“Be quiet? If anyone’s making noise, it’s the colg tramping around like he-“

 

I pressed my face further into the pillow, wondering if I was going insane. Was it just me or did it sound like thos were coming from the window?

 

…Surely it wasn’t possible that I had visitors this late, right? And surely they weren’t where they sounded like, right?

 

The gentle sound of the metal handle of my window twisting came from my right. It repeated several times, each attempt defeated by the lock.

 

“Could you hurry up, Brother? It is so dreadfully cold out here…”

 

“It’s locked.” 

 

There was a moment of silence.

 

“What? Just bang on the window!”

 

“And if the guards happen to hear us again? What then, sister?”

 

“Just pick it! Even Saps could do that.”

 

“Ah, I didn’t know you could pick a lock, Breale.” 

 

There was another silence, and then came what sounded like a smell length of wood rustling around in the lock.

 

“Shut up. Neither of you two can do it either.”

 

I sighed. Was God determined to not let me rest tonight? 

 

You might as well let them in before the guards hear. Gideon said. They might be easy to fool, but they’re not deaf.

 

Grumbling to myself, I got out of bed and walked to the window. Throwing aside the curtains and opening it up, I could see three people huddled on the narrow balcony. Behind them a rope hung down from the floor above.

 

“Oh, hi Saps.” Breale grinned.

 

“Are you guys morons?” I demanded. “I have a door for a reason.”

 

“Our visit is perhaps unsanctioned.” Fredrick said.

 

“Father told me we would not be allowed to take you out.” Auro said. “Or even visit! The nerve, really…”

 

“Take out?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

 

“Today is the night of the Whitesky festival, of course.” Auro said, her eyes gleaming. “Can you not see the falling stars already?”