Pauline

My heart was beating a mile a minute. My cheeks were bright red, and my eyes kept darting about, unsure on where to settle. I was nervous. Why wouldn’t I be, when I’d just confessed to one of the most physically gorgeous - and mentally adorable - girls in the entire academy?

Not that my crush seemed to be fairing much better. It was a bit hard to tell, because her face was once again a blank mask, but it was getting easier to identify the why behind the mask, these days - like the fact that she was only putting it on now because she was panicking. Her body was almost completely still, too, which meant she was probably trying to control her breathing and keep from flailing around.

It didn’t last long. When Professor Devulchas walked into the room she sprung out of her seat so fast you’d think actually springs were involved. The mask broke at the same time, her eyes trembling almost as much as her voice. “P-p-professor! I need help! Yes. With a thing. A subspell I mean. I… I need help with a subspell!”

“A subspell?” I asked, curious.

Amy flinched, looking at me with wide and panicked eyes as if she’d forgotten I existed for a moment, before visibly taking control of herself and putting that blank mask back in place. “Yes. I think I’ve decided on my final subspell for the tentacles - an ant. It embodies both the ability to stick and strength - as well as mana-storing if I go with a honeypot ant I suppose. And also anti-freeze, but I don’t think that matters much for me.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then try to cut it out of your mental image,” Professor Devulchas said. “You must be careful with complex subspells - the more they do, the more the subspell will cost to run.”

“What do you mean cut it out?” Amy asked, clearly uncertain. “I mean, it’s… it’s an ant… the anti-freeze is a natural part of it, isn’t it?”

“Then draw an ant that doesn’t have that,” the Professor said - and I swear she rolled her eyes a little, too.

“R-right..” Amy said, biting her lip. “I’m… actually not sure if all ants can do that or not? Maybe honeypot ants can’t, actually? Or… I can imagine them not doing it, maybe?”

“This is precisely why drawing upon the real world for spell imagery is so dangerous,” Devulchas said - though I didn’t think Amy was still listening. She was sticking her tongue out a bit, pinching it between her teeth - a sure sign she was concentrating. Maybe even carving, already. “You may not even realize yourself what sort of connotations come with the imagery you conjure.”

“What do you mean, Professor?” I asked, a little worried now. It wouldn’t do to interrupt Amy, now - there was no telling what she’d end up with if she stopped the carving part way - but that didn’t mean I didn’t have concerns.

“Take the average cat, for example. You might try to make use of their imagery for grace, and stealth - but what if your image of them is that of an aloof creature that doesn’t do what you’re told? Your spell might end up as difficult to manage as the proverbial challenge of herding cats.”

“Then with Amy focusing on ants…?”

“It should be fine,” Professor Devulchas said. “They’re just simple insects.”

“I guess…” I murmured, feeling a little hesitant myself. “Amy seemed to know a surprising amount about them, though. What if something else sneaks into her image of them?”

“Then I suppose that means she’ll need to work harder at isolating her mental imagery in the future,” Professor Devulchas replied. “You know, this is why so many people prefer to attach their spells to imagery from dreams, or shapes created by naught but their unconscious - far less chance of something untoward slipping in.”

“Amy struggled with that a lot, though,” I reminded her, thinking back to the first days. “I mean, she sort of managed it for the tentacles I think? And the original book carving idea came to her in a dream, I’m pretty sure. But that caused all sorts of trouble even with that…”

“Yes, well, mental images are tricky things to get right,” Professor Devulchas said, physically and figuratively shrugging it off. “Had she one into more detail about what she was planning, I would have been able to talk her through it.”

“You could have told her that, couldn’t you have?” I asked, only to receive a shocked look in turn.

Not that I could blame the professor for being surprised - I was, too, honestly. I never talked to teachers like that… but thinking back to how depressed Amy had been, and how she’d clearly blamed herself for the failure, it was hard not to feel a bit annoyed on her behalf.

For better or worse, though, that was the moment that Amy chose to cry out in triumph.

***

Amy

***

“I did it!” I declared, opening my eyes and grinning at Professor Devulchas - or at least that had been the intention. I hadn’t expected to find her in a glaring match with Pauline, though. “Um… is everything alright?”

“Quite,” Professor Devulchas said, turning to face me with a smile. “Your fellow pupil here is apparently feeling a bit testy today, but I’m sure that she can agree it’s time to put past grudges aside and celebrate your success.”

“Yes,” Pauline said, smiling at me. “Can we see it in action?”

“Well… I’m not sure it’s the most flashy of subspells,” I admitted. “I really focused hard on it being a honeypot ant - on it having the ability to store mana and maybe even feed it to others, and having the strength to carry things far larger than it should, as well as the stickiness. I’m sure other stuff might have snuck in, like the cold resistance, though - it’s really hard to adjust my mental image, you know? Maybe I can work on it…”

“For your other spells, perhaps,” Professor Devulchas interjected. “But not so much this one. Our spells are largely set at the moment of creation - or else the baby spells one produced would become utterly meaningless as you grew older.”

“Another thing she’d know if you actually bothered to teach her,” Pauline complained, causing me to look at her in surprise.

“Then perhaps I should put you in charge of her education, miss Pauline, since you seem to know so much about what she needs.”

“I-I just think you should talk things through a bit more clearly with her,” Pauline said, holding firm and jutting out her chin despite obvious nerves.

“It’s fine,” I hurried to tell her. “It’s my fault for not asking more questions and leaping into things - and look, the subspell works perfectly! Watch!”

Saying so, I immediately conjured my tentacles, taking care to activate the sponge subspell at the same time so that it would be largely self-sustaining. Then I activated the ant sub-spell, which…

“It’s holding by itself,” I whispered, surprised. “The sponge subspell is actually keeping up with it! I think I could keep this going pretty much constantly!”

“Within the academy, perhaps,” Professor Devulchas said, drawing the attention of both me and Pauline. “What? You do know that the school was built here due to the magic density in this area, did you not? Or did you never think it strange that the royal academy is placed so distantly from the royal capital?”

“I-I’d heard it before,” Pauline said, “but I guess I never gave it much thought?”

“Yes, well, it hardly comes up much,” the professor admitted, shaking her head. “Some theorize that it helps with the recovery of mana, but there’s no solid records or tests that anyone I’ve asked could cite. Mana is produced from within us to begin with, so while it’s certainly possible for outside forces to assist with filling the core, the idea that it would affect base recovery has always struck me as rather absurd. Rather, I believe that mana absorbed through the body - whether through the digestion of monster meat or the consumption of mana potions, or indeed even the breathing of mana-laden air - it is carried by some means to our core for storage, separate from the actual regeneration that is taking place within us.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “What was that about monster meat boosting regeneration?”

“It boosts absorption, not regeneration,” Professor Devulchas chided me. “But yes. Monster meat is absolutely laden with mana, so it’s only natural that it would provide a minor boost. In fact, many of the more melee-focused warriors I’ve interviewed claim they find monster meat preferable to mana potions, as it provides a small amount of easily digestible mana - so to speak - rather than a massive boost all at once. Of course, many of them were commoners without much in the way of mana capacity or strength, and only ever used spells in battle to buff themselves and the like. Little more than beastkin, really.”

“I… I don’t think you should talk about beastkin that way,” I said. “It’s not their fault they don’t have access to potions or spells to make the sort of changes they need.”

“I agree,” Pauline said, surprising me. “It’s unfair how they’re treated, just for trying to be themselves. I… I knew someone back home who transformed themselves, like that… I think they’re happier since the change. Though… I wish I could have helped them make it another way. They used to love casting magic almost as much as me…”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, the point remains - mana filled meat might be enough for those who have and require little in the way of mana, but you wouldn’t physically be able to fill your stomach with enough of it to provide the sort of energy you require.”

“Right…” I murmured, absent-mindedly tucking a bit of hair behind my ear as I fell into thought. “But if my new subspell lets me hold onto the excess, then shouldn’t I try to store as much excess mana as I can?”

“That might work within the academy, and in other mana-dense areas, but step outside the academy walls and you’ll likely find that your little sponge isn’t nearly so efficient at sucking up mana. It should still be enough to support your tentacles in their base function, of course, but if you wish to maintain this new subspell as well you’ll likely end up springing a leak, so to speak - you’ll end up draining your own reserves just to keep up the container.”

“It’s still better than nothing, though, isn’t it?” Pauline interjected. “I mean, before she couldn’t even store mana at all.”

“It has its uses,” Professor Devulchas confirmed. “I just don’t want you overestimating your limits. Certain things are easier within the academy’s walls than they are outside it - many things, in fact.”

“I’m aware of how academia works,” I remarked, surprising myself with the dryness of my voice.

“I was referring more to magical artifacts that draw upon ambient mana, but yes I suppose it can be said to extend to more mundane matters,” the professor admitted. “Still, I suppose it’s good that the subspell is self-sustaining for the time being. Though, that said, I must note that you haven’t actually tested anything yet.”

“R-right,” I murmured, frowning. “Um… I’m not really sure how to test the mana storage? But the strength part should be easy!”

“I suppose you’d need to store some extra mana within your tentacle and then try to extract it,” the professor mused, even as I moved my tentacles to lift up the desk. Where before I would have strained just to move the damn thing, it now lifted up easily.

“It works!” I exclaimed, happily.

“Y-yes,” Pauline said, a slight stutter in her voice. I glanced at her - only to almost drop the desk as I realized something: two of my tentacles had wrapped themselves around her. One about her thigh, and the other around her wrist.

“Are you alright?” I asked, lowering the desk in a hurry as I forced my tentacles to withdraw. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No,” Pauline said. “But what do you mean ‘they’?”

“I… I wasn’t controlling them,” I said, glancing at the offending tentacles - only to blink in surprise as they seemed to droop under my disapproving gaze. “It was like they acted on their own…”

“Another strange side effect of your mental images, no doubt,” Proffessor Devulchas said. “Tell me, do you have any idea what worked its way into the mix this time?”

“Well… ants are pretty independent, I guess?” I said, falling into thought. “I mean, I’ve always viewed them that way, at least? They follow their queen’s orders and work for the hive but they have a lot of freedom in how they go about it - I think? I never studied ants much, I just… I guess I’ve always liked the fact that they seem to know what they’re doing, even when they get separated from the rest of their sorts?”

“Hmmm… then perhaps your tentacles are attempting to follow your orders in their own way?” Professor Devulchas said. “What exactly were you trying to do when you lifted the desk?”

“Well… I was mostly just trying to impress you, I suppose?” Except maybe it wasn’t Professor Devulchas I was trying to impress, I realized, but rather Pauline.

“Hard to say how that would lead to you grabbing hold of your deskmate,” Professor Devulchas replied, unaware of my inner turmoil. “But no harm came of it, at least.”

“Maybe… maybe I should turn off the subspell?” I suggested, trying not to think too deeply about how my tentacles seemed to be drooping from dejection at the thought. They were my own limbs, dammit - not pets!

So why did it feel like I was staring at a pack of disheartened dogs who’d just learned they’d displeased their master?

“Of course not,” Professor Devulchas scoffed. “How can you learn anything about the subspell without using it? Just be careful what sort of orders you give them - or what sort of thoughts you think around them, for that matter.”

“Right…” I murmured. Truthfully, I was still hesitant - still unsure that this was a good idea, and not just her idea of a good experiment. Still, as long as I kept an eye on it, it would probably be fine…

Wouldn’t it?