Ocular to the Dying Sun

How Seasons Travel; part 5

He may not excel in it but more than what is required enough to move as a squire he passed with flying colors and as a Prime Magician that was enough but his excellence towards magic is what he needs. Being physically fit was easy but his requirement to become a magician also peaks when he can mentally stabilize himself and focus on certain aspects that need it, like the training he’s doing right now on one of the contraptions made on the grounds.

The puppet he’s been appointed could be considered a playpen for dodging, with a series of wooden balls triggered from above to diagonally attack him in possible blind spots. The aim was to send his body a sense of familiarity, in terms of moving presence. Each wooden contraption is imbued with magic that has a specific element within, the moment it hits him it will trigger the side effect.

If he evades or manages to hit the ball, it is a point and will be proven safe until a barrage will trigger again. Random is the frequency of the attacks, it still manages to build a magical resistance besides honing physical abilities.

He doesn’t know this but his mother, Lady Yphemu, did not use this kind of training because she was skilled in terms of sword skills due to her time outside of the Saturni family. Her ability to fight was not from the Academy or Lord Estring, she is proof of being combat-heavy while living with the strongest pool of magic in their body.

As an example for her son, Mitt promised to train himself in combat but needs to be magically trained. Thus, Lord Verbasi had someone corporate a training sector for his young student to learn battle magic in as simple enough.

This is not something knights can do well, as some may know how to use magic, but none has ever been as great as Lady Yphemu or any of the standing generals in the Militia. Mitt is now in line to be one with eagerness.

“Move!”

A familiar voice said as an incoming ball almost hit Mitt on the right side of his head.

Dodging another sweeping wind, this time coming from above, made Mitt fall to the ground on his left and break his fall with the shield. He consciously used his magic, a psychic type of magic called Tapik but stronger in grip and control, making him hold the short sword without using his hands.

With ease, he recovered in an upright stance when the visage of Hulari quickly entered his peripherals though it disappeared behind an incoming ball coming from the right. Brandishing his hand in that direction, he reacted too late and had his right arm hit the wooden ball and a burst of water gushed forth from within.

By instinct, he couldn’t stop himself from using his Tapik magic and pushing the ball in an outburst of shock towards a direction safe to say is away from others. It did manage to hit something from the distance and if they listened closely, the metal and rocky destruction could be heard, earning an outburst of anger from the Smithery.

Hulari was looking in the direction of the shouts, then looked at Mitt who was lying on the ground, face pale. “The… that was far,” he said in a whisper.

Quick as a blink, Hulari noticed an incoming wooden ball and dodged it the same way Mitt recovered. Standing with a swift push off the ground, Mitt takes his shield and bashes it against the incoming ball. Recoiling it back to the direction it came from, managing to also use his Tapik to throw his short sword in the direction of the puppet meister.

Short stocky looking human-shaped wooden artifacts, made specifically for the training grounds, are scattered around the course as form of extra obstacles. Easy to remember if they stay steady, but they aren’t the point of attack, but rather the dodging balls of spells.

This puppet is the trigger to turn the entire course on and off, at least for the person assisting with the training. Taking the hint, Hulari rushes to the puppet in time to completely save it from being destroyed and shut down the entire course with less damage than might have happened.

Quick as a blink, they both ran to the other side of the training ground where squire practice started for other students at their level. Holding their practice wooden swords, the short swords the two were allowed to practice with are discarded under the bench while they signaled for one of the assistant mentors to give a note of their presence.

Truth be, Mitt didn’t exactly want to think he was going to be punished for lacking control on the training course, but he knew he would be reprimanded lightly once they realize it was his doing that possibly destroyed the part of the Smithery. He was allowed to use the course, just not alone or with a classmate. That much would either be omitted or considered in the decision to scold him.

“You don’t think the Smithery would be angry at that?” Hulari said as he readied his wooden sword.

Holding his stance, Mitt held his and they started to swing and parry. “I hope not, I did ask for permission but whether they think it’s alright that I have no mentor watching me is a different thing.”

“Probably given a light pat on your hand,” Hulari said as he succeeded in tapping his wooden sword on Mitt’s gloved hand. “Ha, point—”

This was quickly retaliated by a tap on Hulari’s left shoulder. “Minus. Hey, rather, I’d better run over there later to see if I did something real irreparable?”

“Tsk,” Hulari swung again, striking Mitt’s elbow but was distracted when he was hit on the shoulder two times, to his surprise. “Hey, you cheat.”

“I didn’t, I’m just better than you.” Mitt smiled and they spent a little bit of their time playing around.

Up in the Smithery, the mentors had a blast discussing the damage. As was the guess of Mitt and Hulari, they managed to coincidentally destroy an entire shelf of cooling various metals for use in the coming projects due. Their shenanigan forced the Smithery mentors to stall an entire bulk of orders, enough to annoy several customers.

As compensation, the Knighthood faction is forced to put several of their squires to be assistants for use, except for Mitt and Hulari. Hulari is absolved of any squire duty because he isn’t vying for knighthood, but he is given a task to be there because of his responsibility on the matter. While Mitt, he gets to stay in civil regard of his punishment as he was only asked to assist the alchemists to work on their spells after the Ocular.

“Young master,” bowed one of the mentors to Mitt, making the young boy shy even though he looked on forward. “The Headmaster wishes that you be careful during minor lessons, it is upon the request of Lady Saturni that we give you a special focus on your education as a noble. But we try to avoid giving you too much burden or punishment because we value your training as the future Prime Magician.”

The man looked at him blankly, even though his voice was cordial with enough consideration as he spoke to a boy his age. Mitt didn’t dislike this kind of treatment from others, but it certainly takes no second guessing to show that the damage he’s done must have hindered another thing as important. Though no one could blame him in entirety, they would bare a level of a peeve to the culprit at least.

“Thank you,” Mitt simply said.

The mentor smiled, “he would also like to send his regards to Lord Verbasi, I’m sure he would find a way to accommodate the request of the Smithery regarding the compensation for the damages.”

The end of the day has arrived, though hours only before the turning of dimming light. Leading the young Mitt to the office center of Lord Verbasi within the Academy was a lengthy walk and needs a proper chaperone if one wants to cross over to where the registered magicians worked.

Guards are littered around the garden before the entrance of the building, all standing in the presence of a lamp post with barely a lamp visible on its top end. The moment it stops sensing the warm lights of Slitark, that’s when the lamps begin to start working.

Uniforms colored like the ground of the guards start becoming navy blue and show white glinting from the opaque glass container appearing above the top of the pillars. So much of the opaque becomes crystalline to a point that it becomes clear and enough to view the dust from inside.

These are machinations exclusive to the Academy, with their own storage house of pure shard dust kept in a vault for posterity. Many vying to be alchemists or self-proclaimed alchemists who self-studied, comes to this place to start studying, creating, and bartering for the dust. Something borderline impossible to obtain without the skills of a Prime Magician.

Nodding at their presence, doors opened by the guards’ hand and they entered the dark wood hallways of the building. This building is simply called the Magician’s Hall but is often fondly called by many the Main Office.

Exterior-wise, the entire building consists of four levels of symmetrical old wood shutter windows, with proper three-by-four window panels. Solidly stacked with red chalk bricks, every line of each column and row makes the wall of the entire building seem like a misguided factory house that sheltered several maids in waiting and sewing until midnight.

Though each window is clear and curtain-absent, the lights within will never shine outward. Crafted with the magical propensity of shard dust that was imbued with spells that protect or keep things of any kind from escaping into the world without hindering them to feel the warmth of Slitark. Several acres of land extend back to the yard that is locked from the rest of the Academy by a tall spike fence battered by time.

None of the non-magic students are allowed beyond the point of the Academy and whoever tried to enter their courtyard would suffice to say become the latest guinea pig to any traps within the area that an Engineer or Alchemist has left. Magicians are a different matter when it comes to their discipline within the Main Office, prompt, focused, and rarely initiated any experiments unless they’re part of a scholarly thesis or group.

Lord Verbasi made sure to keep their offices occupied and well-kept running, with the stray magical artifact around the entire yard in place. At least in a way that the employees of the Main Office could handle.

Approaching the hallway on the third floor where Lord Verbasi’s room resides, the young mentor knocked on the door as Mitt and he arrived. There was a response on the other side with the door opening automatically.

“Yes, come in. Mitt, young sir Manoy, welcome.” Lord Verbasi sat on a couch in the middle of the room filled with a few shelves stacked with scrolls on one shelf and books on another. “Please excuse the mess my boy, some paperwork is coming in quite a rush all of a sudden and it’s become unimaginably horrendous for my assistants.”

There were other people inside and both looked at Lord Verbasi.

“Sir, we’ve already arranged for the training room, it’s best if you utilize it before the end of its time.”

“Quite right, sir. Most of the documents here do not need your attention anymore.”

“Leave it to us Professor, especially the collected results. You’re going to be needing time to train young master.”

Heaving a sigh, and probably a hidden smile, he stands and takes Mitt from the mentor who guided him here in the building. The young man nods, as cold in expression but not as stiff, as if they could breathe in relief at the task they have finished.

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