"What's this?" asked Clinton, staring at a pair of metal bracers placed on his desk. He was seated in his pavilion looking at Ira.
"Squeeze it with all your strength commander." She said with a cheeky smile.
Clinton was confused but picked them up anyway, adjusting his grip, he gave a tight squeeze. He'd recognized the material as Tark metal. A brass metal used by common foot soldiers. It was slightly weaker than normal steel but offered better protection against the Arcanes.
For a second, Clinton began to frown as he began adding more strength to his grip. But the metal would not bend.
"What the..." he looked up, meeting Ira's smirk.
"Come on commander," Ira teased, trying to stiffle a laugh. "Put your back into it, don't tell me you're getting too old." She chortled vexatiously as she watched a vein throb on his forehead.
Clinton grunted, giving her a sharp look before he started channeling his arcana to augment his body. It bled from the stars in his heart, flowing through his meridians, stretching through his entire body. Every mustle, ligament and tendon in his body seemed to expand before they compressed, tightening with a sense of power that billowed out from Clinton's pores in a shroud of distorted air.
Still, the metal remained firm until... slowly, it began to contort. Bending before the might of the commander.
Panting, Clinton turned to face Ira. "... You did this?" He asked.
"No... a kid from out in the woods did." She replied, taking a seat across from him. "And he's willing to sell it to us."
Clinton could hardly believe it. "Bullshit!" He snapped, throwing the metal brace back onto his desk. "Tell me the truth."
"I am. It's not my fault that you don't like kids."
"All they do is eat, shit and sleep." He replied, dropping back to his seat. "Did a kid really do this? How old is he?"
Ira nodded, brushing a finger against the bent metal. "He's seven."
"Do you think we could dupe him into giving us the formula?"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." She exclaimed, rolling her eyes. But she didn't bother to argue or protest. She had known the man for many years. He was an aged soul, hardened by decades of endless war between Ignus and the Wraisan empire.
Clinton tsked, "Fine, how much is asking for? You know what, give him whatever. Let the empire handle the cost."
"Do you believe that to be wise?"
"Who cares," Clinton said. "I've got bigger issues."
Ira chuckled, "Let me guess, those initiates you bullied a few weeks ago came back with someone who holds actual power."
Clinton looked away guiltily, "They call him lupin. You know him?"
"I do, but he's not a fighter. His focus lies in-"
"You know what? This shit always vexes me, why cultivate if not for power?"
Ira sighed shaking her head. "You might not understand because you've lived your life in the battlefield. But for most normal folks, fights only happen once or twice in their lives. They mostly cultivate for a longer lifespan. To be the best versions of themselves."
"That sounds BS to me."
***
"The difference between zero spells and first level spells boils down to one simple factor. Refinement. When one's spirit grabs the atmospheric Arcana and twists it into a spell, they are essentially using impure Arcana, tainted by the elements. When you refine Arcana, it blends together creating a consistency that is unnatural. That is why level one spells are twice as strong as zero spells."
Eosira sat on the ground with her legs folded into themselves. She felt her lips purse as she contemplated. "So the strength of a spell depends on the purity of the Arcana, not necessarily the amount."
"Exactly." Veythar smiled. He had found that he quite enjoyed teaching. "That's why in second level spells, we introduce several types of compression formulas into the equation."
Eosira listened with a glimmer in her beautiful eyes, more often than once asking questions.
"Can Eosira try now!?" The young girl perked up after Veythar finished with his lesson. He could practically feel the excitement vibrating off her frame
He tilted his head. "You've just barely picked up the basics of spirit control and want to cast a spell?" He asked as he remembered his first spell.
Eldoria, known as the Enchanted Realms, was a hub of a plethora of energies. Not just Qi or Arcana, there were hundreds. Even though the different energies reacted differently, once refined and purified, Veythar found them all to be the same. Though many would beg to differ.
He had cast his first spell at the tender age of two(two hundred). With the help of the Wyrd, he had projected his spirit into his eyes. Opening his view to a world suffused and connected by snow white strings on every surface, molecule and atom. So pervasive it was, that it seemed to want to cross over to to the material world.
"Alright, let's start with the school of Abjuration(protection)." He said.Pausing for a long moment, amused by her pleading stare. "Hmmm... Let's start with... (Impede)."
"But (Impede)... sounds boring!" The young girl deflated slightly.
Veythar flicked her forehead and the young girl's eyes all but teared up. The spot throbbed, turning a shade of pink and then red. She nearly pounced on him when she saw his fingers twirling in the air, leaving silver trails as he wrote a rune that shattered when it was complete. Multicolored specks billowing around her small figure.
Eosira gasped when she felt the pain dull. "What's... That?" She asked, rubbing the bruised spot.
"(Impede) Can be cast as either physical or mental protection, not both. If I had cast it on you before I hit you, you wouldn't have been injured. But as I cast it after, it only offered you mental relief, by dulling the pain."
Veythar circled her figure, "It's one of the most versatile spells in any Arcanist's arsenal. If cast correctly, you could get away from a bear attack with just a few scratches."
And for the next hour or two, Eosira tried casting the zero-spell, bearing little success. Despite her near recall of the spell, she had just learned the basics of spirit control, and could bearly control the Arcana like Veythar.
Still, she didn't give up come morning. Noon and night, she trained and trained and by the second day, she was all smiles, twirling around drawing one rune after another in the air. By the third day, she had gained some minor success but could not gather enough Arcana.
That might have been her biggest issue. And for the following week, all she could do was expose her spirit to the ambient energies.
Veythar had told her that the single most hardest concept to master was spirit control, and once she had done it, spells would come as easy as breathing. But she had not been inclined to believe it. So she trained, for all hours of the day into night, she trained. Even while hunting, she exposed herself to the mysterious essence of this realm.
Until one day, her eyes glimmered like stars caught in a mist. Standing near their cottage, she broke into joyous bell-like laughter.
A few minutes later when Veythar went searching for her to start their lessons, he found her smashing her head on rocks and trees as if to break them. To which she succeeded more often than not. Veythar's courtyard was in shambles.
"Eosira's- the bossss!!!" She shouted, spry with laughter.
Veythar briefly entertained the thought that she was a junky, high on some strong drug. By the way she hopped about.
He smiled, letting her tire herself out. He approached when she lay on her back, tired and weak. He looked down at her as she looked up at him still with that silly smile on her face.
"I-... I did it big brother." She managed to say in between ragged breaths.
"That my friend, I could deduce for myself." He chuckled. "So how long did it take to cast?"
Having caught her breath a little, "About twelve seconds. Gathering Arcana is what delayed the casting time."
"Well that just means you have to practice spirit control-" He paused, turning his head to the patch of trees to his right. "Can I help you?" He asked looking at the azure string of intent leading to the forest.
"Actually, you can." A hooded figure stepped out of the foliage. He was handsome, with a trimmed beared and teal colored eyes. " I'm looking for the man who killed my initiate."
Veythar regarded him with a placid expression, before turning his eyes to the cane in the man's hand, it looked unremarkable. A long black wooden staff with a green jewel embedded in the crown. But what made Veythar pause was something else, the staff gave subtle rhythmic vibrations. 'A truth spell,' he determined.
"Might you have any information?"
Veythar ignored him and helped Eosira to her feet. "We don't know anything." He said walking back to his cottage.
"Please! Any information no matter how little would be appreciated!" The man pleaded.
Without pause, Veythar replied. "Cancel your spell first if you want a conversation, and let's talk like civil human beings."
The man, Lupin, was shocked. How could a child notice his spell? Forcing down his questions, he saw them get on their porch.
"W-wait!" He tried but Veythar closed the door in his face.