Chapter 11: Spellflinging
For all her attempts to hurry to the task, it was already noon by the time they came to the periphery of the wilderness of Desir. Evelyn had only her brother Jamie to thank for that. The children were easy to organise. One glare from her and they would scurry to complete their tasks. That was the commanding air she had cultivated over the years.
It worked on almost everyone, not just children. Unfortunately, it seemed her brother was the only one impervious to it. If it ended there, Evelyn was fine with leaving Jamie to his devices. But despite reaching his twenties, Jamie was still as zany as ever, even pulling the children into his fold to make things difficult for her. It was as if he lived to annoy her. Even now, he was designing some stunts with their nieces and nephews.
And Evelyn had thought it would be a relaxing trip from her usual high-profile responsibilities.
She shook her head in admonition. Her eyes could not help but dart to the taller figure on her left, who seemed to be teaching his infant child how to nock an arrow from the quiver in one sweep. Unlike her unreliable brother, Sir Cliff exuded an air of restraint and responsibility. She was barely acquainted with him, and even then, she had heard a few good things about his command.
There were more than a few elite knights and warriors who came from House Blackstone, but even among them, he was one of the oddities. Why else would he have refused the chance to marry into House Oberon? Ignoring all the opulent structures and training regimes they had, just the Tier 12 mana-gathering arrays alone pulled in such rich and pure mana that anyone from a lower clan would salivate over it.
His refusal had certainly hindered his progress, as the man was still at the Iron Rank. Perhaps “hindered” was not the correct word. His foundation seemed solid, though she feared Silver would be his limit. Well, for most, Silver Rank was the ultimate goal. But noticing how patiently he was teaching his son, it became evident that rank and class were not his priorities.
Evelyn could laud his compassion, but she could not empathise.
From the very beginning, her talent had set her apart from all her peers. Not only had she been born at Tier 4, but she had also possessed an astounding talent in mana. Her father had allocated a number of renowned tutors to train her from as early as she could remember. Evelyn hardly even knew what fun was, but she had never been indignant at her father for stealing her childhood.
People are complicated, but mana—it’s fun. Exhilarating, even. That was how she had become the youngest to reach Level 100 in their household.
Yet a tinge of wild envy crawled up her chest as she watched Sir Cliff instruct the boy. For all the good it did him, he was still missing half the shots he was taking. The target was not even that far, a gnarled tree barely ten metres away.
Her father had never taught her anything with such patience. All his lessons were cold and practical, never with such affection in his eyes.
“This bow,” the little boy announced, “it’s terrible.”
“The bow is fine as it is,” her sister snickered from behind. “It is just that you are too small and weak.”
“I am not weak,” he argued, setting his jaw. “The string, it's unnecessarily taut.”
“So you are admitting you are weak.”
The boy glared before turning to Sir Cliff. “I don’t want to learn archery anyway,” he said. “Just wait until I fling fireballs and disintegrate the whole fucking tree.”
“Watch your language," the knight hollered, eyes widening in shock. “Where did you even learn that bad word from?”
“It's Rain.” The boy pointed at his sister. “I learned it from her.”
“No, you haven’t,” the girl screamed. “Em’s lying.”
Cliff glared at her all the same.
The light-brown-haired boy smirked at her as Rain made a gesture with a fist. Perhaps, without their father watching over them, she would already have broken into violence.
While the Blackstone siblings bickered, her niece Elin sauntered before them to eye the gnarled tree, a wand in her palm.
“Disintegrate the tree, you say? like this?”
As soon as her voice finished, a beam of fiery light shot from her wand and crashed into the tree. The atmosphere immediately grew warmer as blistering flames arose from it, along with the crisp smell of burning. Everyone’s gaze darted to the fire and its creator, who smiled, her chest heaving proudly.
Evelyn shook her head. Elin always wanted to be the centre of everyone’s attention; it did not matter how much mana she was burning to achieve it.
Before the fire could rise higher, Evelyn waved her palm. Wind-attuned mana spread from her hand and took hold of the air around the tree, isolating any flammable air from reaching the fire. Within a couple of seconds, the flames died, leaving only a deep char mark where the spark had struck.
Elin pouted at her.
“Save your mana for the hunt,” she advised in an admonishing tone.
“A wand,” the boy interjected, his eyes shining. “Is that a magic wand?”
Elin bobbed her head and announced pompously, “Its a Tier 3 Firewand.”
“Can I see it?”
Elin shot him a look, her lips curling up to display her dimple. Then she let out a curt “no.”
Em’s pupils contracted as he lifted his eyes from the wand to her.
Evelyn shook her head in exasperation. Regrettably, her niece seemed to be turning out more like her brother. Like Jamie, Elin too was born with talent leagues ahead of her peers, giving her an early head start that would take others years to surmount. The Oberons were blessed to have a few such talents in every generation. Sadly, more and more of those seemed to become conceited with their skills.
“Wait,” Benny interjected, fishing out his wand. “You can inspect mine.”
The boy, already having given up on pestering, smiled brightly as he received the wand.
“It doesn’t have the same fire spell etched into it,” her nephew explained, “but mine is in no way inferior to Elin’s.”
“Thank you,” the boy said offhandedly, as his whole attention was on the new toy in his palm.
“In exchange,” Benny continued, “can I take a look at your spider?”
The boy handed it to him without a word. It looked to be a Tier 1 construct, almost reaching Tier 2, but considering the high prices of constructs, its value must have been closer to that of a regular Tier 3 wand. There was nothing particularly interesting about this spider construct. It was merely a fancy toy to teach children the basics of mana skills. The high price was due to how difficult it was to make a construct compared to a simpler piece of equipment like a sword or wand.
“Alright, I think we have wasted enough time already,” Evelyn said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Give me a moment with my daughter,” Sir Cliff requested.
She eyed Jamie, who was still in the middle of a talk with Arin. Her piercing glare seemed to prickle his senses as he finally spared her one of his iconic smiles. Her brother waved his hand. “I am done with him. They are all yours now, dear sister.”
She was about to turn to Sir Cliff, who was delivering the final pieces of advice before they let the children go, when her arcane senses picked up an impressive force building to her right. That young boy, Sir Cliff’s son, held the wand aloft, mana pouring into it in a steady stream as the power converted into a piercing Wind Blade.
With a gust, a translucent blade of wind hurtled towards the tree, striking it dead centre. The power of the spell was beyond the boy’s expectation, and the recoil sent the wand flying from his hand. A trained mageling would have been able to neutralise the recoil, but this was likely the boy’s first attempt.
But he had no time to worry about the wand, as his body lurched in the opposite direction while the tree he had struck began collapsing towards him. Another figure darted forward before he could react. Sir Cliff blurred to his son’s position, arm raised to catch the tree before it fell. His son had already escaped to safety by then. After making sure he was unharmed, the knight tossed the massive trunk aside.
“Ember!”
“Sorry,” the boy said, looking apologetic towards his father.
“Em,” Sir Cliff admonished, “you should have asked before tinkering with runic equipment.”
“I’ll be careful from now on,” he said, retrieving the wand from where it had landed.
Only then did Evelyn realise that she had not caught his name. Now that she had, she raised her appraisal of him. He must at least have a Tier 1 foundation in mana to generate that spell. But that alone would not make the mana bolt so powerful. The wand was enchanted with a Tier 3 Wind Blade. Anyone could pour their mana into it to cast the spell, though not everyone’s would be as potent.
The quality of the mana—or, as her mentor would put it, harmonic mana—was the most important factor. It indicated that Ember had been meticulous in his practice. Even if he had taken mana elixirs to achieve a Tier 1 foundation so early, he had still put in the effort to harmonise the foreign mana into his own. Additionally, he likely had a stronger attunement to Wind.
A more thorough inspection might have yielded better information, but that would be impolite. She did not believe Sir Cliff would take that lightly, regardless of her station.
“Dad,” Ember asked, inspecting the wand carefully, “how does this actually work?”
The knight scrunched his nose, facing a troublesome question he might not have an answer to. “The spell formation layered into it can convert the mana into wind force.”
“How does it shoot such a piercing force?”
As he tried to pour more mana into it, as if to demonstrate, Cliff caught his hand, seizing the wand.
“No fooling around with something you don’t understand,” he admonished.
“That’s why I am asking you to explain.”
“I would have explained if I knew any more,” Sir Cliff said, turning thoughtful.
He did not voice any question or seek any explanation from her for his child, perhaps out of politeness, or perhaps due to their unfamiliarity. Either way, Evelyn decided to explain what she knew. Sir Cliff was a retainer of her family, and both of his children seemed talented enough to hold strong positions in the future. It never hurt to be courteous to loyal retainers.
“I am not proficient in crafting,” she said, crouching down to the boy, “but I have tinkered with a fair few items. A wand like this is a crude invention to help unclassed or unskilled magelings like you cast spells beyond your capacity. It cannot do much. There is only one enchantment etched into it, and it performs it well.
“The one you used held the script of a Tier 3 Wind Blade. Once your perception grows stronger, you can push your mind’s eye into it and inspect it. You will see that there are mostly two kinds of script involved. One transfers mana into wind force; the other concentrates and pressurises the force into the shape of a piercing strike.”
She was uncertain if he was following, but she continued for a while as the boy nodded tentatively. At least he was a good listener, unlike her niece, who either had her head in the clouds or was up to some mischief.
As she finished her explanation, the boy watched her for a moment. Finally, understanding seemed to dawn on him, and he quickly offered a clumsy bow of respect. Evidently, he was not accustomed to showing reverence.
“Thank you for your explanation, Lady Evelyn.”
And he was polite as well.
With his mana skill and attitude, he would perhaps make a fine apprentice. The thought came unbidden. Evelyn could even train him to become a better knight than his father, though he would shine far brighter on the mage’s path.
Regrettably, that decision was not entirely hers. She would have to keep the apprentice position open for her niece or anyone from her family with equal or greater talent.