Just Add Mana

The first thing Cale did after that class was head to Headmaster Akkau’s office for a consultation, and this time he managed to get distracted only twice before he arrived. The old dragon seemed oddly frazzled when Cale barged in, though.

“Cale Cadwell Cobbs.” Akkau cleared his throat and straightened his robes. “I feel I should not have modified my wards to grant you an exception. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Cale squinted at the Headmaster, then peered around the office. “...Am I interrupting something?”

“Certainly not,” Akkau said. “I was merely preoccupied researching the Dark. I am almost certain that answers to Vekorax lie within it.”

Well, that sounded plausible enough. Cale decided not to pursue the subject further. “About that,” he said, and then he gave Akkau a quick overview of everything that had happened during Melee Magic. The fact that the class had turned into an impromptu lesson on Dark Magic didn’t even give Akkau pause—he was, at this point, used to Cale’s classes going horribly awry one way or another. Really, this was one of the less eventful classes he’d participated in.

By the time Cale was done with his explanation, Akkau had acquired a thoughtful expression. “I will have to speak with this Eviscerator for myself,” he muttered. “Perhaps she can help me identify... ah, but forgive me. You wanted to know when the Red Hunter delegation would be arriving?”

“If you’ve got a record of that,” Cale said. Akkau nodded, then began haphazardly pulling open his drawers and rifling through the scrolls.

Before long, there was a familiar, exasperated sigh from underneath his desk, and a scroll disappeared from one of the drawers before appearing neatly in Akkau’s claws. The old dragon stared at the scroll for a moment.

“There it is,” he said casually, as if nothing strange had happened. Cale raised a brow, but said nothing as Akkau pulled the scroll open. The ink on it was magically inscribed and shifted strangely as the Headmaster squinted at it, but it wasn’t long before they resolved into a more definite shape. “They claim they will be arriving in three days, although they have changed that date of arrival several times already. I would not be surprised if their visit was delayed again.”

“I guess they’ve been struggling without their commander to run things,” Cale said, although something about the thought made him frown. “That’s kind of weird, though. He can’t have been the only power moving them around. They had close ties with the Orstrahl government, right? And there should be three other Red Sentinels.”

“The Sentinels are powerful mages, but they exist to be commanded, not to command,” Akkau said, but he seemed troubled as well. “You are right that they are remarkably disorganized, though. At the very least, the Grand Magus of Orstrahl gave them a great deal of support and supplied them with a great many artifacts and spells. It is quite unlike him to abandon such a large investment.”

“Maybe he’s busy?” Cale suggested.

“Perhaps,” Akkau said. He sat back down at his desk, drumming his claws on the wood before wincing and stopping. “Or perhaps it was his goal to take control of their organization all along. It is no secret that he desires to have an army of his own, distinct from Orstrahl’s military forces. He has long claimed that commanding elite squadrons of mages would greatly progress his research.”

“What kind of research requires teams of archmages?” Cale asked, raising a brow. “I mean, I guess if you’re looking to research an incredibly dangerous dungeon, but even then you don’t need an army.”

“I doubt his goals are quite so benign,” Akkau said. “It has been quite some time, but I do believe he once studied here. If I could just find a copy of his research..."

He paused expectantly, and after a moment, there was another exasperated sigh. A new scroll appeared in front of Akkau, this one quite clearly old and carefully sealed. Akkau reached out to break the seal with a delicate claw, then examined the contents.

“On the Creation of Abyssal Artifacts,” he read out loud, and then he scowled. “Of course. I should have known he would not simply move on as we suggested.”

Cale grimaced. Now that he thought about it, he had completely forgotten to look into where the Red Hunters were getting their artifacts and relics—he’d assumed that Akkau’s connections had handled it.

And they had, technically speaking. The Red Commander kept a number of dark relics in his personal collection, and those had all been recovered and either destroyed or freed, depending on what was appropriate. He’d forgotten to question exactly how the Red Commander was acquiring those artifacts, though, and if he hadn’t sourced them personally...

Flia was going to want to hear about it. She had pretty much made it her personal mission to punish the mage responsible for capturing Abyssals and turning them into artifacts. If that was truly the Grand Magus, then she now had a target.

“How about this?” Cale suggested. “If the Grand Magus is in charge of the Red Hunters now, then he’s probably sending them out to capture more Abyssals and to help him with his research, and he’s using the façade of their old duties to cover up the fact that they’re doing something completely different. He’ll probably just keep finding a reason to delay the visit, but if you tell them one of the students here can directly access the Abyss, I bet those Hunters will come running.”

Akkau stared at him. “You wish to use one of your own apprentices as bait?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t put it like that,” Cale said, thinking back.

He had, in fact, run into Flia on his way to meeting Akkau. It was one of the two things that had distracted him. She’d had Sabri out on her shoulder and was feeding the shadeling scraps from lunch, and the sight was so adorable that Cale couldn’t help but stop and say hi. Not that he wouldn’t have anyway, of course.

They caught up a bit before Flia rushed off for her next class. In that time, Cale learned several things about where she was at with her magic: she was focusing on her ability to merge with her familiars, and the process made it easier for her palewater to cycle through her core.

“I just wish I could figure out what more the Leviathan wants from me,” Flia had grumbled. “I thought we stopped all the Abyssal capture going on already. If there’s another mage out there kidnapping them I’m going to find them and rip them apart vertically.”

“You’ve been hanging out too much with Syphus,” Cale had told her at the time. Flia had scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder, splashing some unfortunate nearby students.

“No, you just haven’t seen how I deal with mages that really piss me off,” she had said. “I made a bunch of shadow critters eat a dragon alive, Cale. I hope this mage shows up for me, I really do.”

Back in the present, Akkau was still staring at him. “How would you put it, then?” he asked.

“Uh,” Cale said. He thought about it for a moment. On the one hand, the Grand Magus was undoubtedly a powerful mage, and on top of that he presumably had Abyssal-derived artifacts to draw from. Those could very well force them into a corner, even if he offered his help.

On the other hand, Flia was kind of scary when she was mad, and they were about to do some intensive training. Cale had it all planned out, really.

“Well?” Akkau asked.

“It’s really more like they’re the bait,” Cale said. “If we put them in front of Flia she might wait to fight them first before she rushes off to face the Grand Magus and starts a political incident.”

There was a long silence, and then Akkau slowly nodded. “I see your point,” he said. “Very well. I shall send the message posthaste.”

“Just to be clear, I do want to start a political incident over this,” Cale added as an afterthought. “I am absolutely not saying we should avoid him. I just need to train Flia up a little first. We’re going to need the Abyss to properly confront an Abyssal mage.”

“I should reprimand you, given you are still technically my apprentice, but I fear your disregard for political power is infecting me.” Akkau shot Cale a smirk. “We shall have to deal with the situation as it develops. Now that you mention it, however, I would like to know: how do you plan to train your apprentices? They have grown greatly from the many adventures they have had with you, but they will plateau soon, without proper practice and direction.”

“Oh, I know that,” Cale said. “Let me give you a quick rundown...”

Cale launched into an explanation of where all four of his apprentices were at with their magic. They had all begun producing palewater, but their cores had not yet adjusted to the point of producing palewater automatically; that was a matter of both quantity and quality. They would need a great deal of palewater-level mana constantly moving through their cores before their cores would adjust, and they needed the intent in their mana to best represent who they were.

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That aspect of palewater—that it was not only the presence of intent that mattered, but the quality of that intent—was what caused many mages to stall out at that stage of core development. A mage’s intent was powerful when it accurately reflected their thoughts and desires.

If that mage was conflicted, lying to themselves, or uncertain about what they wanted to do, then their mana could begin to work against them. Cale had known mages that had been forced to abandon their mana core development entirely because of this. People so mired within their own lies that their magic was weaker when it was purely their own. It was one of the reasons divine intent was so crucial. There were many mages whose spells would go haywire if not for that support.

Cale didn’t think his apprentices were likely to run into that problem, but they did need to understand themselves more to fully grasp the power of palewater and begin crystallizing their mana into darkwood. They needed to practice with their palewater as much as they could, too, to better identify where their intent didn’t quite line up with who they were.

But he had a plan for this! Brightscale Academy had a room explicitly for training and practicing within a divine void. A room that was devoid of all divine influence. It wouldn’t get rid of any divine intent already present in their mana, alas, but it would force them to get used to casting without the ever-present hand of divinity guiding their forms and movement. Without the Gift to support them, even.

This sort of training could be brutal, but his apprentices had already shown they could handle it, and Cale wanted to see how far they would push themselves in that environment. Within a divine void, every flaw and error with their spellcasting would be made apparent. If they had doubts, it would expose them; if they didn’t believe in themselves enough, their magic would fail.

Most important of all, it would give them the strength of mind to face what was coming, and to achieve all they wanted to achieve. Cale wanted to prepare them for anything that might happen. If ever he wasn’t around for them, he wanted them to be able to take care of themselves, no matter how hopeless things seemed.

Akkau nodded slowly as he explained all this, though there was a bit of doubt in his expression. “You are certain they can handle this?”

Cale thought back to his apprentices, then nodded. “I have faith in them,” he said. “There are some things they need to confront before they’re completely ready, but we can deal with those as they come. I’m pretty sure I know what they are, anyway.”

“Would you care to illuminate me?” Akkau asked, raising a brow.

“Damien needs to meet Vital and to confront his feelings about his father,” Cale said. He hoped the latter went well. The former was entirely on him and he knew it. “Leo needs to understand more about what’s happening with Asterion—as do we all, frankly. Flia, I bet, will get her insight once we face the Grand Magus. Syphus..."

Cale paused, contemplative. Based on what he’d seen in that last class, he had a good idea of what it needed. “It needs to figure out that it cares a lot about its friends,” he said at last. “It loves violence and explosions and thinks they’re ‘cool’, but it hasn’t figured out that it wants to wield those things for a purpose yet.”

“You have a good handle on your apprentices.” Akkau smiled warmly at him. “That is good to see. I am confident that you will find what is best for them. That said, however, I have a request.”

“A request?” Cale sat up, intrigued. Akkau very rarely asked him for anything. Frankly, Cale thought he should probably do it a little more.

“Indeed.” Akkau leaned forward, interlacing his fingers on his desk. “You have trained your apprentices well, but the other students of the Astral Wing—and of all the Wings, to some degree—continue to struggle. Your Thread of Fate and its influence on this school has brought out much of their potential, but with the dark lord’s rise..."

“You’re worried it’s not enough,” Cale said, and Akkau nodded. “What if I made the training sessions in the void room an open one? Let’s say people can sign up to join. Not too many at once, obviously, but I’ll lend what guidance I can. I can’t take everyone on as an apprentice, but I know a trick or two.”

“You are aware the professors will also sign up for this?” Akkau prompted, and Cale laughed.

“Sure,” he said happily. “Anyone can come. I love magic. Who knows! They might even teach me something new.”

Akkau nodded gratefully. “I will make an announcement.”

“Then I’ll go back to make sure my apprentices know what to expect,” Cale said. “Thanks for not kicking me out. Also, for reference, Professor Sternkessel? I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hide next time. Trust me, there’s nothing either of you can do that would bother me.”

Cale winked, then left the room, whistling cheerfully to himself.

Akkau sputtered and glared as the door clicked shut. Sternkessel only chuckled, now leaning against the door, his rings rotating with amusement.

“That sounded rather like a challenge, did it not?” the Greater Indictment mused. “I wonder if we should take him up on it.”

Kelegas’s time at Ironblood Academy was going nothing like he’d expected.

He had expected to despise every one of these fools for living their lives while ignoring the plight of the aberrations in the Corrupted Lands. He had expected them to be pathetic, selfish ingrates who cared for little more than their own comforts and wielded magic as nothing more than a tool.

And there were people here that were like that, both students and professors alike. But there were plenty more who simply loved magic for what it could be. Who wanted to learn not because they thought of it as a mere tool, but because they thought they could better themselves or the lives of others with it, or because they believed there was a profound joy in the act of magic itself.

It was a strangely nostalgic reminder of how he had once seen magic. Those days were blurred to him now, but sometimes he thought he could remember glimpses of a time when he had wielded his magic for joy rather than brutal purpose. A time when his spells provoked laughter, rather than fear.

He supposed there was a certain hypocrisy to him now. He despised the mages that saw magic as nothing more than a tool, but when was the last time he'd done anything different? His role as a dark lord meant he had to be purposeful with his magic. He had to grow strong enough to oppose the realm, after all, and there was no room for joy or whimsy in that. It would only make what he would eventually have to do all the more difficult.

There was an odd irony to the fact that it was only now, infiltrating the enemy and playing the role of a dedicated student, that he could once more embrace the joys of magic. He had planned to steal the Anchor at the upcoming tournament, but his spies had not yet managed to identify what wards it would be protected under, and Kelegas had decided it would be best to have a backup plan.

That backup plan was simple: he would simply lead the Ironblood team to victory and claim the Anchor for them, then steal it once it was safely within their grasp.

Of course, for that plan to work, he had to train the mages he would be fighting alongside. There was a reason this academy was relatively unknown and unacclaimed. Even their wyldfire mages were unimpressive, and the small team of mages selected to support them at the tournament were even worse. He and Steve had a lot of work to do if he wanted to get them up to par.

So he taught them what he could, and to his own surprise found himself enjoying the process. Irasia was an elven mage who truly loved her magic and had achieved wyldfire with it, but had not yet learned the true power of the unfortunately very specific nature of her mana aspect. She specialized in floral scents, of all things. Other mages might have given up on her, but Kelegas saw the potential.

Symbolic power was essential in advanced magic, and flowers were so often used as symbols of things—of feelings and of omens. There was an entire language Irasia could learn to speak in, and once she did, she would be near unstoppable.

The same went for Igneous, who Steve affectionately called Iggy. He was a lava construct who wielded raw, destructive power at his best, but instead preferred to use his magic to sculpt pretty, delicate things. How he had achieved wyldfire with that baffled Kelegas, but he found he enjoyed the time he spent with the gentle mage, and it didn't take him long to realize that his sculptures held real power. They were minor effects, for now, but trained correctly he would be able to replicate the effects of entire artifacts and relics on the fly, an invaluable skill for any mage.

Kelegas wondered, sometimes, if he would be able to convince them to join the Dark. He would not reveal himself now, but if he planted the right seeds...

He even found himself enjoying the process of teaching the supporting team of mages, who were all relatively weak as mages but made up for that weakness with enthusiasm; they took to anything he taught with fervor. More than once, he caught himself wondering how far they might go if given the chance.

But they wouldn't get that chance, would they? When the time came, he would raze this academy to the ground, too. He liked the mages here more than he thought he would, but the rage that bubbled within him was greater than ever. Sometimes, it broke through the walls he had constructed around it.

“What’re you thinking about?” Steve asked curiously. Kelegas glanced down at him and shrugged.

“Nothing,” he said. “Dark lord things.”

“Oh.” Steve was silent for a moment. “Is the anger getting bad yet?”

“No,” Kelegas lied. “It helps to see the people I would conquer as people.”

“Good.” Steve seemed relieved; he fell back onto his pillow, pulled Kelegas’s arm to him, and quickly fell asleep again.

Kelegas had no idea why this human had decided to start using his arm as a sleep aid, but it wasn’t like he needed it for anything while he was pretending to sleep. He didn’t need sleep—couldn’t get it if he tried. One of many things that was lost when the influence of divinity could not reach you.

He felt the anger stir within him again.

It was true that he didn’t despise the people at Ironblood Academy as much as he expected, but he despised them nonetheless. He fought constantly between those two sides of his being: the one that had begun to care for those around him, and the one that wanted to burn it all down.

Kelegas closed his eyes, and a vision flashed into his mind. The thought of slaughtering all those at the school and venting his anger out on them became briefly overwhelming, and a shiver of pleasure rode up his spine. He gritted his teeth and held still, jaw clenched, focused on the feeling of Steve’s hands clutching his own.

That was the other reason he allowed this. A dark lord was not supposed to spend time in the realm like this, with their powers of the Dark so greatly suppressed. The more he forced it down, the greater the consequences might be once he let them lose.

In the back of his mind, the Lesion pulsed out a warning. It didn’t want him to do this. But the darker aspect of it, the voices crowded within the Lesion, cried out at him too, demanding justice against the gods. In a way, it was comforting. It was conflicted in much the same way he was.

Kelegas waited, shuddering and tense, until the feeling passed.

The Anchor would stabilize him. He just needed to last until he got it.