David Niemitz
patreon
Guild Mage 109
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 20:24:46 +0000 UTCChapter 109: Farmond Blackstone
Liv realized that she was holding her spoon halfway between her bowl and her mouth, forgotten, so she set it back in the soup. “I have, actually,” she admitted. “I can make a sword. I can fling it forward, if I want to. Honestly, I could make half a dozen swords and fling them at an enemy. I also don’t have a problem animating a construct of ice and then sending it off to attack, but once I infuse it with that intent, I don’t have any more control over it. It always seemed to me - from what little I’ve heard - that she was in full control of something like a hovering cloud of swords. And I just can’t see how to make that work.”
“Think of it like a puzzle,” the archmagus said. “If you’re missing half the pieces, of course you can’t put the rusted thing together. It’ll be nothing but frustration. Authority is the piece you were missing - and that’s no shame on you. It’s an advanced concept, and difficult to train. Here, let me show you. I am going to impose my Authority on the room; tell me what you feel.”
Suddenly, a great pressure bore down on Liv, and it was all she could do not to fall out of her chair. She gripped the armrests and struggled to hold her head up.
“Try to cast something simple,” Archmagus Loredan commanded.
“Celet Belia,” Liv gasped. She couldn’t reach her wand, but she didn’t need it for a spell this minor. The word of power woke in the back of her mind, and the mana spilled up from within her at the incantation, out to the tip of her finger, stretched toward the desk. But instead of a frosted blue columbine, sculpted of glass, nothing appeared on the polished wood. She felt like she was pushing herself against a massive boulder, sunk into a mountain slope and half-covered with moss. Its weight was immeasurable, beyond her ability to shift.
Then, suddenly, the weight vanished, and the form of a delicate flower solidified between Liv and Caspian Loredan, just as she’d pictured it.
“That,” the archmagus explained, “is what happens when you pit yourself against someone else’s Authority. In this case, someone much stronger than you. You’ve gotten a bit ahead of yourself, Apprentice. Mastering Authority is one of the prerequisites to be awarded the rank of archmage.”
Liv slumped back in her chair, relieved by the absence of weight. As her mind whirled, connecting disparate pieces of information, she reached out for her goblet of wine and took a sip. “I’ve felt that before, you know,” she said. “That pressure.”
The archmagus’ eyes narrowed. “When? From who?”
“Ractia.” Liv set her goblet down, and met her teacher’s eyes. “In a vision.”
Loredan nodded. “That makes a good deal of sense. If one of the Vædic Lords - or Ladies, in this case - truly has returned, it would be only reasonable to expect her to have mastered every aspect of magic that we are aware of.”
“You don’t believe she’s back, then?” Liv pressed, challenging him.
The archmagus drummed his fingers on the desk. “My brother has made no statement on the subject - nor will he, I think. Roland is not long for this world.” A shadow passed over Caspian Loredan’s face, and was gone just as quickly. “I would not expect Prince Benedict to recognize such a threat publicly. It is certainly not for me to contradict them. I believe you were at the Conclave in Freeport, however. You know that the guild has not been idle.”
“You sent teams to Varuna to investigate,” Liv remembered.
Loredan nodded. “And we have submitted reports of their findings to the palace. Nonetheless, we cannot compel action. And there is a strong urge toward isolationism among the barons,” he explained. “Even among the majority of the guilds. I am afraid, Apprentice, that there is no political will to take action against such a threat at this time. It has not struck Lucania, and so, in the minds of most of our leaders, it is not our problem.”
“That’s stupid,” Liv protested. “Ignoring a threat doesn’t make it go away. If we don’t help now, when she’s done with Varuna, or the Eld, or whoever is next, it's just going to be even harder to fight her.”
“I do not disagree with you,” the archmagus said plainly. “But that is not how most people think. The idea of a goddess returning is terrifying - were they to admit it was true, people would panic, or despair. So long as they can ignore it, they will. Most people in the world, Liv, want only to get on with their lives, and not be disturbed, not risk losing what they have. It is only a very small number who are ever willing to stand up and risk their lives.” He sighed.
“How can I practice that?” Liv asked. “Authority. Or at least, how to not be stopped by someone else’s.”
“Test out of my advanced course, and I will teach you myself. Until then –” the archmage considered the question. “The best method would be to subject yourself to someone whose word of power already functions by imposing their authority on you. I doubt she has the language to describe it, but that is what young Miss Ward is doing, with Ven. If you can train yourself to resist her spells, you will have made a good beginning.”
Liv didn’t like the sound of that, but before she could object the first bell began to sound, and the archmagus rose. “I supposed this once you won’t have to worry about being late,” he pointed out, with a smile. “As you’ll be arriving with your professor. But we should get down to the library.”
“Of course.” Liv rose, and followed the archmagus out the door and into the hallway. “Only, you said that you had something to talk to me about, as well. And I don’t think you’ve said what that was.”
“Ah, yes,” Caspian Loredan said, leading her down the stairs. “After class, I would suggest that you borrow a particular volume from the library, one that I think you will find of interest. Look under the name Blackstone – Faramond Blackstone. One of the ancestors of our founders, who made a detailed survey of the bay and the reef during the sixth century. The dialect is a bit old and difficult to parse, but it should be within your abilities.”
“Thank you, sir,” Liv said, following the professor into the library. While he strode forward to his board of slate, she found her usual seat, but her mind was not on the lesson. If she was understanding things correctly, the archmagus wanted to help her. He’d not only suggested a way for her to begin training against Ractia’s power, but he was also pointing Liv toward information on the vedic ruins out in the bay.
For a moment, she wished that she could have a conversation with Duchess Julianne. It would go a long way toward convincing Liv that she was interpreting things correctly if she could talk it out with someone who was an expert in reading meaning into the nuance of what people said, or left unsaid. It certainly sounded like the archmagus felt constrained in what he could do or say publicly.
Liv hardly paid any attention to the archmagus’ lecture, but as soon as the class was dismissed, she gathered her things and dove into the stacks. The books were arranged alphabetically, by author, and that meant she found the journals and records of the Blackstone family on the first floor of the library, on the lefthand wall from the entrance.
It was a massive section, containing everything from tax records, to legal rulings, to land surveys. The Blackstone family had ruled Coral Bay for centuries, and the mages’ guild seemed to have absorbed every record in their collection, once the family was defunct. There was even a genealogy, with chart upon chart of parents, children, and cousins. Finally, Liv found the volume which the archmagus had recommended: Beinge a Survie of Coral Bay, as Conducted in the Year 587 - Faramonde Blackstone.
Liv winced at the spelling of the words, and the flowery structure of the sentence. The archmagus had not been exaggerating when he warned her it would be difficult reading, but she wasn’t going to let that put her off. Liv brought the book over to the journeyman working the desk, and was somehow not surprised to find that they already had been given a note, approving her to borrow the volume.
☙
With no further classes that day, Liv dropped the book off in her rooms: she would begin studying it that evening, she decided, perhaps with Sidonie after dinner. In the meanwhile, she intended to make use of the light and the afternoon.
Liv gathered her bracelet and rings, as well as her new pearl from the bay, and dragged a chair into the bath chamber, past the basin and the half wall that separated the portion of the room that had a drain in the tilted floor from the rest. There, she sat down, took her wand in hand, and began sculpting herself swords. With each casting, Liv tried to lower her voice further, until she was only whispering. Within a bell of practice, she had half a dozen swords, all of which she’d thrown onto the tiled floor to melt in their own time.
Still, whenever she tried to move her lips without speaking at all, nothing happened. The word at the back of her mind roused, the intent formed, but Liv couldn’t make the spell begin. It was intensely frustrating, and it reminded her of how much she’d struggled to form adamant ice for the first time, under her father’s instruction.
“Trinity, I hope it isn’t going to take that long,” Liv complained, rolling her head to stretch her neck in between attempts.
“What in the world are you doing?” Edith asked, leaning around the half wall.
“Practicing silent casting,” Liv said.
“Some of us need to use the bath chamber,” Edith complained. Liv sighed, and stood up, squeezing past Edith on her way out. “He’s left, by the way,” the other girl said. “If you wanted to know.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Liv said, without turning back to face her roommate.
☙
That wasn’t the last time that Liv took over the bath chamber: it became one of her favorite places to work on her silent casting. For one thing, she could bring a chair in and be comfortable; for another, it was mostly private. Best of all, when she was finished she could turn on the hot water from the tap and let it wash away her pile of swords. It was better than leaving a mess in the training yard.
The chief limiting factor, of course, was mana. Liv would practice until she’d exhausted half of the rings she could hold, and then turn to some other sort of productive study. There was no shortage of things she needed to be doing. If Rosamund was free, they went to the training yard - or, if there was no room there for other classes being in session, to the smaller practice ground behind Blackstone Hall, or even down to the beach.
Arjun and Tephania joined those sessions whenever they were free, and Wren could generally be counted upon for help, as well. Of course, the huntress hadn’t forgotten her own assignment: she seemed to take inordinate pleasure in catching Liv by surprise at every opportunity, with a blunted dagger to the throat, the kidney, or some other vulnerable spot. In the weeks that followed her return to Coral Bay, Liv only managed to block a single surprise attack, and that was because she heard Wren’s boot crunch a shell beneath her heel. She half-suspected that Wren had done it on purpose, just to encourage her. And of course, she’d had to speak aloud to summon a blade for the parry.
Still, progress was made - if not in all areas, then at least in some. Storms rolled in over the bay more frequently as Harvest Season passed into the first week of winter. Rather than snow, this far south the storms brought only rain. Every time the weather turned, Liv took Steria out, and Wren came with her to keep watch. They would find an isolated stretch of beach where Liv could call down lighting, scorching the sand and leaving hot, smoking patches of ground fused into glass. She was getting better about hitting the marks that Wren made, and Liv felt reasonably confident that if she had to use the royal word in a fight, she wouldn’t kill anyone by accident. Probably.
In Enchanting, she’d been drafted to help Professor Norris and his journeyman design a defense system for the campus using the massive stone-bat casque that she’d brought from Whitehill.
“You brought the piece,” the professor told her, in a gruff voice that always sounded irritable. “You might as well help us do something with it.” She’d actually originally asked him for tutoring, in return for letting the school use the piece, but apparently in Norris’ mind that meant throwing her directly into the fire.
With Journeyman Turstin – Genne was stuck teaching the rest of the first years – Liv, Norris and both Arjun and Rosamund carved sigils into the massive, v-shaped casque. When she’d suggested her friends help with the undertaking, as well, Professor Norris had muttered something about more hands and light work, waved a hand in a noncommittal manner, and then never spoken of the matter again.
The idea was to install the casque on the tower of Blackstone Hall, where it could be used to lower interlocking planes of hexagonal magical force in a dome that would enclose the entire campus. The amount of mana required for such a defense would be truly massive, but they’d tested the casque out, and found that it could hold just under fifty rings. Professor Norris judged that would be enough, especially when connected to enchanted anchor points which were to be mounted on the old, crumbling walls of the former Blackstone estate.
It was grueling, demanding work, but it also felt like if they managed to get through it, the three of them would be moving into the advanced course rather quickly - in some ways, working with Master Norris was like they already were, for practical purposes.
Every evening, after dinner, Sidonie, Liv and Tephania would work on two books: the volume they had been assigned to compose and add to the library, and the maddeningly dense work of Faramond Blackstone. Even the spelling of the man’s name had changed in the centuries between his writing and the present day. The only things in the book that didn’t require translation were the actual maps - and then, only if you didn’t care about reading the labels.
“I have to admit,” Sidonie said, one evening. “I’ve got no training reading nautical maps. I’m fairly certain we’re looking at records of depths in various places, but the notations make absolutely no sense to me.”
“Perhaps we need a sailor,” Liv proposed. “Captain Ahearn did promise that he would be in port every few months; we could leave word down with the dockmaster for the next time the Annie Gallant comes by. I’m sure its not the kind of help that he expected me to ask for, but I imagine he could tell us what to make of all this.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Sidonie said, rising from the bench and stretching until her back cracked. “I think I’m done for the evening. Don’t stay up too late, Liv - your mind needs rest, just like your body.” Liv grunted in response: she intended to go over her notes for Guild Law and History before turning in. She thought that she might be close to being able to test out of the course, and the prospect of a few hours taking a quill and ink to paper was much less intimidating than challenging one of the students in the Advanced Armed Combat course.
Rather than head across the landing to the rooms on the other side of High Hall, Tephania remained behind for a moment. At first, the girl was so quiet that Liv didn’t even notice her, but finally she got her nerve up and spoke.
“I was wondering, Liv – I mean, I wanted to get your opinion,” Teph said, stumbling over her words. “Or – well, do you know whether Arjun is betrothed to anyone, back at home? Or courting?”
Liv blinked, and set Faramond Blackstone’s abominable book down in her lap, wresting her mind out of it with an effort of will.
“Courting?” she repeated. “I’m honestly not even certain how that works in Lendh ka Dakruim. They’ve got this whole other system, with the jati instead of barons or anything. Why do you ask?”
Tephania reached up to touch the faint white scar that had been left on her cheek, after their journey to Kelthelis. The scar left by the wound that Arjun had healed. Everything fell into place in Liv’s mind, then, before Teph even began talking.
“He’s so gentle and kind,” the blonde girl began, and Liv observed that she couldn’t keep a smile from her lips. “Not anything like Duke Falkenrath’s knights, or the barons’ sons that I’ve met. I think he’s sweet. But I’m afraid to ask him - do you think you could find out?”
Liv took a deep breath, then released it, to keep herself from groaning. “Well,” she said, after a moment. “I suppose you all put up with my romantic foolishness for days upon days. I’ll ask him, Teph, and I won’t even tell him why. But if you really like him, you’re going to have to say something eventually.” Not, she realized, that she had any right to give advice.
“I will!” Tephania said, bouncing up from her seat. “Thank you, Liv, thank you! I’ll let you be now. Good night!”
After her friend had gone, Liv rubbed her temple and closed her eyes. Whether it was from Faramond Blackstone’s beastly writing, or the prospect of an awkward conversation with her friend, she had a headache.
Comments
Cascano Richard
“He’s left, by the way,” the other girl said. “If you wanted to know.” "He is Left". Or. "He left" ?
Tarrim
Anyone paying enough attention will know she is up to something out there. Some might guess Luc others might come up with other theories. This might actually be a case where her scandal could help her. Some might theorize a secret lover or something. She could try heading out in a secretive manor some times when the weather is great to simply get people guessing other things.
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Gopard
Honestly the fact that she is riding out in the most miserable weather and in that weather ONLY should be enough for the Archmage to basically already know... I would be surprused if those more savvy at politics didn't simply just expect Julianne to teach Liv Luc. She needs to be worried about the Sherard Boy or other lackeys potentially seeking to gain royal favour finding such a secret out.
Gopard
Not really though... Nothing in the real world comes even close to threat Ractia represents. Especially with their literally being Notes and in few cases live witnesses of her destruction back then still there. Closest thing I could think of are "nukes" but... Those are not something you "deal with before they become to strong to kill you" sadly that would be too easy.
Storyflower
Eerily reminiscent of what the real world is facing currently. Good one. “I do not disagree with you,” the archmagus said plainly. “But that is not how most people think. The idea of a goddess returning is terrifying - were they to admit it was true, people would panic, or despair. So long as they can ignore it, they will. Most people in the world, Liv, want only to get on with their lives, and not be disturbed, not risk losing what they have. It is only a very small number who are ever willing to stand up and risk their lives.”
Tarrim
Just realized that the word Celestia has is one of the words the prince has. It's the one that came from his wife so Celestia is probably related to princess Millisant.
Tarrim
It's certainly not risk free. Her constantly going out during storms is certainly a reason for suspicion. She does potentially have an extra line of defense since she can call lightning without luc. She should see if Wren can keep an eye out for signs someone is getting suspicious. She particularly has to be careful of Edith she definitely has a grudge against Liv. She is probably blaming her for her failure to get with Cade. Could definitely see the archmagus getting suspicious. Then basically deciding to ignore it unless something forces his hand. I wonder if authority is involved in figuring out what words someone has. If she can build her authority in time she might be able to resist him finding out.
Grayson
Eventually, the archmage is going to overhear some person commenting how fishermen are finding scorched and glassed over beach...he'll know what that means...so will Sidonie who observed lightning at Kelthelis...
Dave N
thank you!
Tarrim
I think she is probably going to be used to explore Liv's sexuality and good chance she ends up explaining some things to her.
Seri
Ooo would definitely like to see more of celestria ward, it's felt like an incomplete plot line for a while now
Tarrim
Not anything like Duke Falkenrath’s nights, or the barons’ sons that I’ve met. I think he’s sweet. But Nights>knights
