Basic Thaumaturgy for the Emotionally Incompetent

“I did not know Montreal could be that petty,” Lorvan said, his gaze fixed on the empty space ahead as he walked Fabrisse home.

Fabrisse didn’t reply. There wasn’t anything to say.

“You were in the top two. This is the job for you.” Lorvan exhaled, sharp and short. “Such a disgrace.”

“So nothing can be done.”

Lorvan’s mouth twitched. “Nothing official. But we’ll figure something out. There are plenty of opportunities for those who seek them out.”

“But . . .” But he needed the money now. No amount of overtime work would be able to compensate for a month’s worth of pay, and he’d need to spend time practicing to pass classes too.

“So? Are you going to do anything about it?” Lorvan asked.

Fabrisse stayed silent.

“We can’t do anything about the situation. It’s better to move on.” Then, Lorvan pivoted back to their original topic before he learned that his student hadn’t landed the job. “Just to be clear, the Eidralith can imprint a spell and its execution proficiency directly into your memory?”

Fabrisse sighed. He hadn’t gotten over the rejection earlier yet, but he should’ve known better than expecting Lorvan to dwell on it, or offer him consolation. The man treated failure like a splinter: irritating, inevitable, and best dug out quickly so the real work could resume.

“Yes, but not all skills,” Fabrisse replied. “Just some of them, and only after I gained a certain number of points. Like how I can only graduate after I’ve earned enough credits.” He then opened his [Skills] glyph section and asked. “Which skill should I learn, Mentor?”

“Run me through the options again,” Lorvan said. “You said the Eidralith gives you a detailed breakdown of the spell’s strength, range, and duration in numbers?”

“Yes.”

“Then give me the numbers.”

He presented the data as told.

“So, right now I have 2 Mastery Points, and these skills cost 5. The System calls them skills, not spells,” he said as he pulled up the Tier 1, Common-grade Stone Thaumaturgy skills.