Chapter 80

The thin string of aether coiling behind my eyes felt like liquid ice as I tried to maintain my control of the thread. Unlocking the Aethersensing Attribute had changed my perception of what was possible. Before the new Attribute, finding aether had been like searching for something in a dark room using only your hands — eventually you might grab onto it, but then you didn’t really have an idea of what shape it was. I vaguely remembered a story about a blind man thinking an elephant was a snake but that didn’t make any sense at all.

What even was an elephant? I wondered as the fragmented memory faded.

At least that was how it had been for me with my Lesser Aether Core. Etta had found it easier, of course, which I definitely wasn’t still a little envious of after all these years. If Deception had gained steps from lying to yourself, I would have finished that Path years ago.

With Aethersensing though, it was like I had a torch. Sure, things further away were still hidden in the dark or hard to see in the shadows — but for anything close by, it was clear as day what was going on. The aether inside me couldn’t be any closer so I felt exactly what it was doing. In fact, I could even pluck it like a string from my core, dragging the aether out through my channels — which were basically roots growing out from my core to all my extremities — before trying to mould it.

That last step is what was giving me grief. I had the Aethersensing Attribute, making sensing it easier. I did not have the Aether Manipulation Attribute, and without it, plucking the thread of aether and getting it to do what I want was the same as trying to hold onto a slippery eel. The aether constantly tried to wriggle out of my grasp or twist in ways I didn’t want it to go.

Thankfully, the Shadow Affinity was not known for its physical impact on the caster. Apparently, you needed to be far more careful with things like fire and lightning — though they were also generally shaped into a spell outside the body. My nightvision spell was an internal spell, meaning I needed to shape the aether while it was still on the inside. It made the task easier since I was kind of terrible at external aether manipulation. But easier didn’t mean easy. I still took almost a minute to wrangle the aether thread into the desired shape.

Then, with a pulse of aether to feed the spell, my vision shifted. The shadows in Gramps’ office fled before my eyes. The room was already dimly lit by a single lantern, the window shuttered. In the near darkness, I could make out the dusty corner behind one book case where some fluff from Gramps’ clothes had found a new home. My eyes continued to rove over the room, picking out the items that I couldn’t see before.

This was my third cast of the day, and my Path of Shadow Magic finally gained another step. By rights I should have been tired but my Shadow Affinity once more came to the rescue heavily reducing the required aether. Still, it was slow going. The other Path I was working on — Aether Manipulation — had gained more than one step thankfully. Even so, I estimated I was over a year away from unlocking the Aether Manipulation Attribute. Even longer for gaining a new Advanced Attribute slot to put it in.

Baby steps, I tried to remind myself. It didn’t help. My impatience was growing worse despite the steady progress I was making.

“Something on your mind?” Gramps asked as he scribbled in his second Path Manual. This one, I knew, was based on me. His first, still ongoing, had been about his own Paths and experiences.

“It’s just so slowww…” I complained, losing the fight to my young mind as it demanded instant gratification.

“You’re going faster than you have any right to, Bastian. I shouldn’t need to remind you how lucky you are or how careful you need to be about displaying that luck,” Gramps replied without looking up. His tone was gentle but the rebuke was clear — and I didn’t think he was talking about my bout of impatience.

I licked my lips out of a sense of nervousness.

“They challenged me,” I replied, hearing my words for the excuse it was.

“Of course they did. You are the grandson of an Adventurer Society Factor. They hear how you have private lessons in swordplay. Your friend Brin, before she left, certainly talked about how talented you are. I feel like Hornpeak grows larger every week, and those new kids have nothing to go on but the rumours of you. Of course some of them are going to challenge you in an attempt to prove their own worth and establish themselves high up in the local hierarchy—” Gramps raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look. I know you know what I mean. I hear the lessons your Mum is giving you in preparation for moving to Helenica. But just because they challenge you doesn’t mean you need to accept. You’re getting enough looks from the locals as is without drawing even more attention to yourself. Need I remind you what might happen if Baron Joss decides that you would make a fine addition to his family?”

My teeth clicked together, the retort on the tip of my tongue dying in my throat. Gramps was right and I was just being prideful.

A few of the new kids — led by Victor, one of the farrier's sons — had challenged me to a fight the day before. They were all a few years older than me. Not yet old enough to hit their growth spurt or earn their first Class Paths, but they were getting close. More importantly, at least a couple of them had a tendency to hang around near Baron Joss’s stone keep. It was pretty obvious they wanted to join the Baron’s forces, and I couldn’t fault them for it. The Baron seemed to treat his men well enough and had led the community fairly. I did, however, take issue with Victor’s attempt to use me to prove himself.

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While only seven-and-a-half, my Stats were enough to bridge the gap in size and development with a few ten-or-eleven-year-olds. My training and experience did the rest. I had shown restraint, avoiding breaking bones or worse. But each of the three left with dust in their mouths and bruises on their body from my wooden training sword.

I lowered my head before Gramps’ in embarrassment. “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. Baron Joss may be a fair sort as nobility goes, but his morals are flexible if the opportunity is rewarding enough — as you well know. Just another year and a half, and we’ll leave here, and then you won’t have to worry about it as much.”

“Really? I thought I might need to worry about it even more?” I quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Gramps snorted, his lips curling up behind his beard. “You’re good, you sneaky little shit. But the Songleaf Academy will have the children of Dukes, Counts, and the richest merchants of Meravia attending its vaunted halls. Some of them will have had tutors that put me to shame since before they could walk. When you get there, you won’t be the best of your year. That’s just a fact. Upper middle is my guess, if you keep up the hard work and stop getting distracted by fights with the locals.”

“And after Songleaf?” I replied with a smirk.

“Put in the effort, and you’ll graduate near the very top. Maybe even the Apex,” Gramps said as he put down his quill.

“Still think that’s a stupid title,” I grumbled.

Gramps shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Never attended Songleaf myself. Maybe they have a reason for calling it that. You’ll have to tell me in a few years… if you can meet my sister's demands.”

My eyes lit up even as my nightvision spell faded. Gramps had regularly taken to poking holes in my ego like this — almost certainly to provoke me to continue working hard. Just because I knew what he was doing didn’t mean his little tricks weren’t working. Then again, I wasn’t sure I knew how to slack off.

“I’ll crush her demands,” I stated confidently.

“Perhaps. That’d be more convincing if you manage to get the Path of Weapon Mastery — because she is definitely going to take a negative view of your Lesser Aether Core and your Shadow Affinity.”

I frowned at his words even though I had heard them before. Having someone with a Shadow Affinity and clearly developed Physical stats just screamed assassin or spy. At a place like Songleaf Academy, those strengths would work against me instead of for me — at least in terms of what Grandaunt Agnes desired. If Gramps was to be believed — and he had never given me reason to doubt him — then his sister would be interested in me making political connections that could draw additional investment. Her ultimate goal was to increase the wealth of those who attended her auction house. At least, that’s what Gramps’ was counting on.

While the scions of the nobility might cozy up to an up and coming mage or exceptional warrior, they would be far more wary of someone who had all the traits of an assassin. Unless we could solve my underwhelming aether core by the time I attended Songleaf — which seemed unlikely — then it was the warrior route I would need to display. That meant either becoming an exceptional swordsman or an adaptable fighter. We were betting on the latter.

“Well, that’s not all on me, is it?” I pointed out. “You were going to try to find me an instructor — Malv-something. Pretty sure I can get there before we move even without one though.”

I left unsaid that it might mean pausing my Magic Paths. The idea was abhorrent to me. But from everything Mum and Gramps had told me, getting into Songleaf would catapult my Paths forward far more than anything else could except for maybe going into a Dungeon. No way in hell my family would allow a twelve-year-old to do something so incredibly dangerous.

The alternative was a lesser Academy, which would mean instructors with lower Teaching Skills. That wasn’t an option for me. I wanted to be the very best and that meant learning from the very best. To the surprise of no one, it just so happened that the best were also the most expensive.

Gramps’ bushy eyebrows drew down in annoyance as he picked up on my intentional flubbing of the name — I was just showing my displeasure.

“Unfortunately, Malvern keeps putting me off with excuses. Probably keeps getting offers that are too good for him to refuse. The man always had expensive tastes, and I will be paying him a pittance by comparison to his normal rates since he owes me a favor. If I can’t get him to come, we may need to go to him. Alternatively we might suggest that Agnes hire you a tutor herself, which means putting you in front of her sooner.”

I shrugged good-naturedly. “They all sound like good options. Whatever you think is best, Gramps.”

“I think… that you should be spending more time practising your nightvision spell and less time fighting with the other kids of Hornpeak.”

He picked up his quill and looked at me, clearly waiting to see if I had another retort.

I didn’t.

The next couple of hours passed in relative silence with Gramps offering occasional commentary on my aether manipulation. Steps flowed in, and my aether had reduced to less than half, which was about as much as I allowed in these lessons. It would take over six hours to recover what I had lost, and I still had my Skills to work on as well.

Waving goodbye to Gramps, I headed out of the office. I snatched up my wooden practice sword before blowing through the kitchen like a gale and out into the glorious sunlight. Mum waved to me from the garden and kept an eye on me as I sprinted across the hard ground towards Etta’s house. My eyes drifted up to the sky — just in case. I didn’t know if there was a word for it but I had never gotten over my fear of aerial attacks. Checking for avian threats had become an ingrained habit I just couldn’t shake.

Then, I was arriving amongst the trees that hid Etta’s house from most prying eyes. A few seconds later, I broke through the shrubbery that I suspected had been planted to further conceal the wooden home. Etta was outside, standing by Grandma Lucille as she controlled an orb of water in her hands. I bit down on my envy and gave my only friend a wave before jogging over to George where he was already warming up.

Gone were the days when Etta joined our practice. With a Greater Aether Core to draw on, her days were spent practising spells — most of which had to happen outside given her Storm Affinity.

George, looking limber, held out his own wooden blade towards me.

“Ready, Bastian?” he asked with a knowing smile.

I didn’t answer, not letting my expression shift and warn him as I launched forward, blade extended. I had been born ready.