Chapter 4: Omen

Noah knew it was going to be a hot day. The summer sun had risen and wasted no time in burning away the cushion of cool air from the previous night. The breeze had yet to kick up, leaving the air dead still and the rays of the sun frying the cadets like ants under a magnifying glass. Still, no complaints were allowed, as it was a distraction from training. At the moment, they needed to focus on getting their movements right.

“This is known as the Dance of the Ivunara, performed by elf warriors the night before battle in the Mortho Highlands,” said Valia, moving slowly through the motions with the other cadets following along.

It was like a combination of yoga and tai chi, with every muscle being trained to form and maintain the different positions. Each cadet had their sword in their hand, though many were shaking from the continued effort. It was similar to Noah’s regular workout routine, so he had no trouble following along.

“The sword you are holding, think of it not simply as an extension of your body. Think of it as a heart, one that pumps mana instead of blood. Feel the pulse. Feel the mana flowing through your veins to every part of your body. Most of you are right-handed, correct? Every time you move, every time to assume a stance, imagine a line of mana running from the tip of your sword and through your body, coming to an end at the big toe of your left foot. Feel that thread, like a bolt of lightning connecting the heavens and the earth.

Do not force the mana or gather it. Feel what is already flowing. Feel its intensity. Only when you are in tune with your body will it flow at its peak. You can’t do this by simply tightening or relaxing your muscles, only by fitting them into place, ensuring they are all in harmony. Breathe in, feeling that energy flow from your hand and to your heart. Breathe out, letting it flow down to your foot.

No matter what pose you make, how tangled you may be, the mana flows, guided by your control. Fear, panic, and frustration bring it down to a trickle. Calm thoughts, focused breathing, and awareness of your body will let it rush like a great flood.”

They continued through the exercises. Many of the poses were battle stances, and the movements included slow-motion attacks, blocks, parries, and shifts. They gave all the cadets a sense of what later lessons would be like.

Finally, Valia gave the word to stop. “You all did well. Now that you’ve experienced the routine, we’re going to do it another eight times.”

“What?!” one cadet exclaimed, his voice slipping out before he could stop it.

Valia shot him a glance and let it slide. “That was only the basic dance. The next stage incorporates how you handle your sword and teaches you how to maintain awareness of its position in relation to different parts of your body. Left and right forearms, biceps, thighs, and calves; each routine will focus on one of those body parts, and the task is to hold your sword parallel to that part. We’ll start with the left forearm. Your arm is one road, and your sword is the other, and while they point in the same direction, never shall they intersect.

Now, let’s start from the top.”

They repeated the war dance, mirroring Valia’s movements. By the fourth cycle, they had memorized the movements and could perform them without her instructions. She moved among the cadets, analyzing every detail of their performance and correcting any errors. It was most often the angle with which they held their sword, with many cadets still not understanding the concept of parallelism. It was sweaty, exhausting work, lasting for hours, and everyone released sighs of relief when Valia gave them the word to stop and rest. Sitting down on the ground was a privilege they were learning to appreciate.

“I can see you hatchlings all putting your strength into this. You make me proud. In a year, many of you will be on the front lines, facing the beastmen of Handent. That is where your strength and determination will matter most. How many of you have killed monsters to survive?” Noah and most of the other cadets raised their hands.

“And how many of you have had to kill other people?” Several hands dropped. “I thought as much. Taking the life of another is something that no training can prepare you for. Once you have slain another person, you can never make it right. It is a weight that you will carry with you forever. It is the true weight of the sword in your hand.

No matter how much you train, how proficient you are in the art of the sword, until you have ended a life with your blade ... until you have felt the fear of fighting for your life and made the choice to end another’s ... you will never be anything more than a child playing pretend. A sword that has not drawn blood is merely a display piece to be hung on the wall. To become a true master of the blade, or any weapon, is to weigh the value of human life, to devote yourself to the practice of killing.

You must feel everything, embrace everything; the guilt, the pain, the relief, the righteousness, the torrent of emotions that comes with taking a person’s life. Strength does not come from locking these feelings away or dismissing the act you have committed. Heartlessness, cold-bloodedness, and indifference are merely a means of escaping your guilt, of avoiding the true cost of strength.

Strength comes from living with them and moving forward, to feel the weight of every sin on your back and keep walking, keep wielding your blade.” Valia then clapped her hands. “All right, that’s enough philosophy. Time for all of you to resume your practice swings.”

The cadets moved to the propped logs from the first class. Nine other classes of cadets had taken turns swinging at them, and the marks were starting to accumulate. However, it seemed very few people had managed to land a swing without their sword breaking. The scratches were many but shallow, with bits of glass embedded in the wood.

Once more, the field was filled with the sound of wood being struck and blades snapping, with the cadets resigning themselves to tedium and frustration. Like before, Valia moved about the cadets, giving out pointers and noting what they did wrong and right.

“Remember the war dance, how you held your sword, how you stood, how you leaned, and how you moved.”

She stopped by Noah, watching him swing his blade. He landed one out of every three hits successfully, the highest level in the class. “Cadet Noah, I was wondering if you had a chance to think over our discussion from earlier.”

“Ma’am?”

“I’m your teacher. It’s my job to know how my students think, especially when I’m trying to teach them something.”

“Lady Zodiac, with all due respect, this is not the time for a friendship speech. Right now, would you rather I focus on the values of comradery or focus on perfecting my swing?”

“Something tells me you could come up with such a speech on the spot, but not because you actually changed your mind. Besides, I’m sure you can focus on both. You don’t seem to have any trouble talking to me while you practice.”

“What is this really about?”

“Excuse me?”

“I doubt you want to have the same conversation all over again, or that this is purely due to your duties as a teacher. If you have something to ask, please just ask it.”

She gave a small chuckle. “Being so presumptuous could lead to trouble.”

‘Is she really just toying with me?’ “Speaking of trouble, I heard about that mess with Prince Seraph. I’m glad you weren’t injured in his violent rampage. What exactly was it that got him so riled up? Oh, if only someone could have done something to prevent that horrible incident.”

Valia flashed a wry smile. “Oh, you needn’t worry about me. I have no trouble putting down arrogant cadets.”

“Imagine how much easier life would be if you simply didn’t have to. You could devote that time and effort to students who need your help rather than picking at me like a scab.”

Nearby, a cadet had broken his sword for the umpteenth time, and from the loudness of his swears, he was starting to burn out. Valia sighed. “I’ll allow you that one. Go on, keep practicing.”

She walked away, and Noah resumed his swings in peace. The class eventually ended, but Valia approached Noah while the other cadets were heading inside. “You owe me—what did you call it again—a friendship speech?”

“I would prefer we talk about your speech from earlier. I liked it.”

“You did? Good.”

“I’m just curious as to if you still believed it.”

Valia lost her smile. “Excuse me?”

“Your words were fitting for us cadets. With the brief time we have, we must find balance within ourselves to live on the battlefield.”

“To live by the sword is to live on its razor edge, teetering over madness. Lean too far one way, and we become swallowed by grief and guilt. Lean too far the other way, and we kill our souls and emotions to become living embodiments of the cold steel we wield. I’ve seen too many promising warriors go down those paths. I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t happen to any of you.”

“That balance only has to last us until we die in battle or fall out of service. It’s something a warrior can live by. At least, a human warrior. But for you, that mindset is just a temporary measure, isn’t it? You tell us to draw strength from our guilt, to find resolve in the fact that there is no going back, but there is a limit to the sins we can carry before they lose all meaning and individuality. Memories and consequences can’t follow you forever.”

“You think that because I am immortal, I’ve lost the ability to feel remorse the way humans do?”

“Maybe not lost, but even the greatest mountain can only bear so much snow before the inevitable avalanche.”

“You aren’t the first person to make this mistake about the elves. I know we sometimes come off as bereft of emotions, unable to relate to mortals, but I strive to be different, to be in tune with the humans around me. To feel the weight of a human life, to know what it is worth, even if I am ending it, keeps me tied to the moment. To see value in people is what allows me to live among them.”

“So you do have to remind yourself, right? You know what it’s like to force yourself to feel guilt, to add meaning to the lives of your victims, even if they were already doomed to live a short life. How much effort does it take? Just how hard is it for you to live among people?”

“I’m starting to take offense, cadet. You have something you want to say to me?”

“My apologies, I meant no offense. I was simply curious as to how elves see the world, how immortals handle the affairs of mortals. I have no prejudices against you.”

She looked at him quizzically. “You are dismissed, cadet.”

“Welcome back, everyone. I hope these past seven days were fruitful for you,” said Sir Elyot, addressing Noah and the rest of the class. “Each of you should have recorded a spell from the library and tested it yourself. For those of you who forgot, I have samples you may use, though I hope you are better prepared next time. We’ll go around the room. I’ll call your name, and I want you to demonstrate the spell you’ve picked.”

One by one, he went down through the list, with each cadet given a chance to show off their magic. They were all minor spells, such as lighting a candle, filling a cup with water, making a stone levitate, and other basic techniques. Noah’s name was never called. How strange, he felt himself becoming a bit jealous. Hopefully, his inability to wield crafted magic could be mended. At least he was able to use magical items.

“Now that you’ve all selected a spell, you’re going to begin learning how to alter it. Heed my words: this is a dangerous practice if you don’t know what you are doing. Before we can even begin, you need to understand the risks. Spells grow and change over time, adopting a new runic sequence with each alteration. There can be hundreds of different versions of a single spell, each with a unique magic circle. Since spells are always changing of their own accord, it should be easy to change them through runecrafting, right? Wrong. Intuitive magic balances itself out, but runecrafting requires you to make the precise calculations on your own.

What happens when you activate a spell with an unbalanced sequence? You.”

He pointed to a cadet who looked like he was about to fall asleep. “Uh ... uh ... it won’t work?”

“Correct. Since spells are contracts with the gods, the gods can refuse to activate spells if the contracts are uneven. If you try to activate a spell and it doesn’t work, then the contract isn’t properly fulfilled and requires alteration. When nothing happens, it means something is wrong, and you need to check your work. If you try to force a spell to work after it has already failed, then things become dangerous, as the incomplete spell will add a condition or result that you were not prepared for. The more powerful the spell and the greater the imbalance, the more radical the result. It’s possible for negative effects to be long-lasting, resulting in curses.

Countless warriors and spellcasters have suffered horrendous bodily damage in battle, not from their enemies, but because they forced a spell to activate when they didn’t have sufficient mana.” Sir Elyot took a piece of parchment, inscribed with runes, and hung it up on the board behind him. “This is the light spell I showed you last time. However, I have miswritten it. Focus on this blank space here at the end.” He placed his hand on the parchment. “Illuminate.”

Like he said, the spell did not activate, and no magic circle was produced. However, he kept at it, and a radiant magic circle appeared around his hand, lighting up the room. All the cadets kept their eyes focused on the parchment, and several gasped in surprise when new runes appeared at the end of the sequence, in the blank space Sir Elyot mentioned. It looked like they were being burned into the parchment by a branding iron, and in seconds, the parchment burst into flames.

“As you can see, even if the spell is unbalanced, the runes, once written, will not change. Instead, new runes will be added to balance it. I had written an insufficient amount of mana as payment, and even if I tried to add more, that part of the spell could not be altered, so the spell balanced itself by adding the condition of the parchment’s destruction, when under normal circumstances, it would have received little damage. Now, imagine that happening to you because you wrote the contract incorrectly.”

The cadets collectively swallowed the lumps in their throats.

“To properly alter a spell, you need to study how the various conditions interact with each other.” He took a piece of charcoal and wrote the illumination spell on the board, this time in its proper form. “If you alter one end of the contract even slightly, then you have to rewrite the other end to balance it. Changing one component can alter countless others, and changing those components to compensate can alter even more components. It is a tedious, frustrating process, but it’s either that or take the risk and let the spell balance itself out.

To begin with, let’s go over how mana is measured...”

Sir Elyot went on with his lesson, with the cadets taking notes, minus Noah. Instead, he used his clone to simply mimic the act while reading a book. After all the time he spent in the library, none of this information was new to him. Even if he made them himself, magic items would only take him so far. He needed to learn proper runecrafting, or else he might never get the answers he needed.

‘Could it be that I’m simply incapable of using anything but illusion magic? Wait a second... ‘

He closed his invisible book, stowed it in his bag, and then turned to his laid-out parchment and ink. He wrote out the Light Finger spell and quietly cast it. He felt his clone and invisibility spells come undone as if his clothes were being ripped away. His mana was cannibalized, and his finger, hidden under his desk, was now glowing.

‘So, my clone takes the form of the spell, just like when I impersonated that Harajin. This isn’t real holy energy I’m producing, merely the visual mimicry of it. Interesting.’

He found a new avenue of study.

The summer months passed, mostly incident-free for Noah. He successfully avoided the two troublesome princes and had managed to stay out of the limelight after his fight with Valia. He was old news, meaning he could relax a little, and he wasn’t the only one.

The mood of the academy had steadily changed over the days and weeks, now lacking the excitement and anxiety that many wide-eyed recruits had when they first passed through those doors, as well as the complaints of aching bodies and exhausting lessons. They had gotten accustomed to academy life and now had more of a sense of what the rest of the year would be like, both the good and the bad. However, they were surprised by the lesson awaiting them.

It was morning, shield training class, but they weren’t gathering in the field. Noah and the cadets had been led out of the academy and into the Colbrand slums, flooded with autumn fog. It was a sea of shabby houses and tents, large enough to already be called its own town and sticking to Colbrand like a deformed vestigial twin. The city repairs were almost completed, but unsurprisingly, the royal palace wasn’t in a rush to replace the shantytown, at least not yet. Most of the inhabitants had been driven out by the flames of the Red Revelries and never returned, making it a great training ground.

Sir Kiev faced the cadets and cleared his throat. “Attention!” Everyone stood ready, having grown used to his shouting. He was the trainer for both shield and hand-to-hand combat, as the two styles frequently overlapped. “As you can all see here, the Red Revelries have exacted an enormous toll on our city, and next year might be even worse. The academy and His Royal Highness have decided that you will take part in their suppression next year, as your final trial before achieving knighthood. In preparation, you will be training here.

In this exercise, four of you will take on the role of enemies on the run through the city, and the rest of the class will try to capture you. Once all four are arrested, another set will be chosen, and the exercise starts all over again. Not only will this train you to capture revelers and criminals, but it will also prepare you for if you ever end up behind enemy lines.

Before arriving here, you were each given a length of rope. Once a cadet has their hands tied, they are captured. This will be live combat, hand-to-hand and magic only, and runners must only fight when they are cornered. The focus is escape, not confrontation.”

This came as a shock to most of the cadets. Until now, the cadets had never been allowed to fight one another. Though they were training to be knights, the academy banned sparring matches of all kinds until further notice. It seemed that necessity had bought them the privilege early.

Sir Kiev pointed to Noah and three other cadets. “You’re up first. I’ll give you a head start of only a few seconds, so I suggest you not waste them. All of you get ready, and keep in mind that entering or damaging the buildings or getting civilians involved will earn you strict punishment.” Noah and the other three cadets moved away from the rest of the class, and everyone removed their weapons. Sir Kiev raised his hand. “Go!”

Noah took off, sprinting into the slums. Moments later, he heard the rest of the cadets given the order to pursue and the thumping of their footfalls. He and the three others split up, each going their own way through the maze of charred huts. The rest of the class was likewise fanning out to search the most expansive area they could and flush Noah and the others out. Noah zoomed through the muddy roads and alleys, trying to cover as much distance as he could. In the distance, he could hear the cadets shouting at each other, calling for backup when on the trail of a runner.

Despite the situation, the use of magic would have been boring. He wanted to enjoy the game. When he felt that he had traveled far enough, he came to a stop and sat down on a tree stump to wait. In the distance, he heard two of the other runners get caught. It wouldn’t be long until Noah was the focus of their attention. His attention, however, was directed to three cats he saw walking in a line nearby. Above his head, another two cats were walking across the hovel roofs, heading in the same direction.

Whatever they were heading to had to be more interesting than simply sitting around, waiting to be noticed. Noah got up and decided to follow them. He was the caboose in the train of felines, and they paid him no heed, caring only about reaching their destination. He could hear more cats up ahead, mewling and growling at each other, and arrived at their destination. They gathered around a summoning circle in a burnt-out shack, where a mouse was materializing out of thin air.

In this world, the population of every species was maintained through this wild magic. Bugs, plants, animals, and even monsters would simply appear when their numbers got too low. On the one hand, it made monster hunting a very secure and lucrative business. On the other hand, it was another danger that people had to be wary of when choosing places to build settlements. Colbrand’s location wasn’t dictated just by access to the sea and rivers. The area didn’t produce any creatures that were a threat to people.

Over time, it seemed that the local cats had learned of this location for a consistent meal, or at least a consistent chance at food. As soon as the mouse finished materializing and took its first step, the fastest among the cats closed in and grabbed it, only to be tackled by the second-fastest cat, with the third-fastest cat further interrupting. All the cats soon consolidated into a moving ball of fur and fangs, each one fighting for the mouse.

“Campers,” Noah muttered as he moved past them.

Over the months, he had been experimenting with his imitation magic, creating illusionary versions of other spells. Their practical uses were limited, but he was always looking for new techniques to add to his repertoire. He crouched down to examine the magic circle, but it was already gone, and there was no reaction when he tried channeling his mana into the spot. Summoning was one of the least understood magics, as it was rare to be observed for any length of time, despite how often it occurred.

The lack of a reaction was disappointing, but there was still hope. If he could capture a spawned mouse, maybe he could replicate it the same way he replicated people. Unfortunately, the cats had left him with nothing. He stepped back out into the open street and drew a line in the dirt with his foot, marking the position of the shadow of a nearby shack. If the spawning circle happened daily, it would likely be when the shadow reached that spot.

“There he is!”

A cadet had wandered over and spotted him, with the rest closing in. The race was reignited, now with the whole class focused squarely on him. He ran through the shantytown, dodging the cadets popping out of every alley and open lane, grabbing at him like energetic zombies. They’d gang up on him, launching punches and kicks and some firing spells in his direction.

He’d deflect and redirect their simple attacks with flicks of his hand and dodge the spells closing in. Sir Kiev said that runners were supposed to focus on escape over fighting, so he didn’t retaliate or throw any counters. The exception was to trip his attackers or even use them as human shields. More than one cadet ended up getting hit with fireballs on his account.

The class soon realized he was the fastest runner among them, and those who had forgotten his fight with Lady Zodiac were being reminded of his skill as they attacked him like a wave, only to end up on the ground without even being hit. The morning sun moved across the sky, but still, the cadets could not catch him, and fatigue was taking its toll. Despite their daily training, they could only chase after him for so long. Many were dropping like flies, forced to rest while those with any remaining strength would keep up the chase, if only in the hopes of tiring him out for their recuperating comrades to finish the hunt.

Finally, at midday, a loud whistle echoed over the slums from Sir Kiev. The lesson was finished, and it was time to return. For Noah, it was a relief. It had been a fun class, but any longer and he would have been running on fumes. He and the rest of the cadets walked back to the starting point where Kiev was waiting.

“Good game, everyone,” said Noah. The others weren’t in such a good mood.

“Slippery bastard.”

“He’s inhuman.”

“Had to be magic.”

They muttered their complaints, but he had avoided hurting anyone too seriously, so there were no hard feelings.

“I must admit, I am rather conflicted,” said Kiev. “I don’t know whether to praise your abilities for evasion or criticize your affinity for running away. As for the rest of you, this is a glaring mark of failure. We were supposed to repeat this exercise several times today, but you all failed to complete it once. You’ll be running extra laps tomorrow morning as punishment.”

‘Ah fuck,’ Noah thought to himself. He was exempt from punishment, but he could feel the angry glares of the rest of his class on his back.

That evening, all of the cadets returned to their dorms and the barracks and were enjoying the brief time between dinner and lights-out. Noah was lying on his cot and scribbling runic formulas in a book with a charcoal pencil. It was cheap parchment for notes and practice spells, but always one to cover his tracks, he wrote his thoughts and findings in Spanish, a language no one on the planet would be able to read. He saved all of his most vital discoveries in a more fitting grimoire.

Nearby, Gideon and Foley were playing a card game. Their deck was made from the scales of a sea serpent monster and inscribed with runes in place of numbers. The game followed the basic poker formula of wagers made over different card combinations, and while the nobles in their dorms would gamble real money, most of the cadets were simple commoners and used stones, acorns, and other debris in place of chips.

Farther down the line of cots, the other cadets tossed around rumors, stories, and jabs. It was the standard horseplay that Noah was used to hearing in barracks and locker rooms across the multiverse. He listened in, gathering information. Since enrolling, he steadily grew a rapport among the cadets, just shy of being on a first-name basis.

Blending into these environments was second nature to him. He’d stay just isolated enough to avoid drawing attention, but not so isolated as to be labeled an outsider. Conversations were rarely started by or with him, but he could slip into others without it disrupting the flow. He was funny without making others laugh, interesting without being memorable, and polite without being liked.

“Hey, did you hear? Crown Prince Lupin took the beastman city of Welindar!”

The announcement came from one of the Thuln brothers, a trio of idiots with no sense of volume control. Noah turned away from his book to focus on the news. He had heard rumors of the famous prince. He was first in line for the throne and was regarded as a brilliant strategist and negotiator, earning numerous accomplishments in Uther’s war of expansion. Unlike Seraph and Galvin, he was well-liked and respected.

“Seriously? They’ve been under siege for ages,” said Ken Rilgis from Noah’s sword class. The lands of Handent, to the northwest of Uther, were a vast collection of beastman tribes and city-states. Welindar was a decisive victory, but only a fraction of Handent had been conquered after years of fighting.

“It’s true. He’s returning to Colbrand, and they’re hosting a gala in his honor. They say his knights even killed a basilisk kept by the beastman king!”

The cadets voiced their shock and disbelief, and even Noah found himself interested. Basilisks were among the rarest of monsters, as well as the deadliest. When he was in Clive, Noah had encountered a couple rare monsters; a hobgoblin with warrior magic and a sledgepaw bear the size of a minivan. Fearsome as they were, they were considered small fry next to a basilisk.

“Imagine the booze they have at those noble parties. I heard it’s like drinking stars,” said Foley.

“Do you think we’d be allowed to attend? We’re practically knights.” He was Higgins, the wonder boy, in that everyone wondered how he could be so fat with all the daily training.

“We’re just cadets, merchandise without any value,” said Gideon.

“I can’t wait to join the knighthood. I’ve wanted to go to noble parties all my life.”

“Shut it, Piggins,” said one cadet.

“Don’t call me that!”

Over the next several days, the academy was abuzz with rumors about the gala. Cadets belonging to the upper nobility bragged about their invitations, while those hoping to climb the social ladder would do whatever they could to be considered an added guest.

The following “Saturday”, Noah left the academy and returned to the slums. He found his way back to the summoning circle, yet to activate, but already surrounded by cats. It took more than gentle shooing to get them to leave, and some refused to give up without a fight.