Chapter 212 208 — Book 4, Chapter 52 — Baking Magic, Pt 4

Headmaster Akkau was quite pleased with how Baking Day was going. He hadn't expected quite this much of a turnout. The other great mages and scholars of Utelia had rarely shown as much interest in baking magic as they should have. He liked to think they had finally seen the light, now that the plight of the dark lord was upon them, although he knew that was unlikely. Most of these mages were just here to mingle and to take advantage of his offer of amnesty...

Professor Sternkessel made a distinct clicking sound, two of his rings snapping together in a mixture of affection and exasperation. "Can you not simply let yourself enjoy the festivities?"

"I said nothing to the contrary!" Akkau protested, though he was aware that he looked vaguely like a chastised hatchling as he did. "I am trying. Your ability to read me is rather unfair, you know."

"Perhaps." Sternkessel chuckled. "Though in this case, it was less my ability to read you and more... that."

He gestured. Akkau followed the gesture, then cursed, glaring down at the dough he was kneading. It had begun to turn a bruised purple, of all colors.

"Mood dough," he muttered darkly, then jerked in alarm when it began to turn an angry red. "No—oh, by all the infernal realms—"

Sternkessel's own portion of the dough remained perfectly placid beneath his hands, if flushed a faint pink. "Is there a reason you have removed the number from that curse?" he asked, his tone light. "Are you perhaps concerned that Cale will destroy another infernal realm when you aren't looking?"

"I can only stand to be corrected on the number of infernal realms that exist so many times," Akkau grumbled. "And yes. I would not put it past him. Would you? What if I were to say it, and then he tells me there are only six realms remaining? I am still technically his master, and the amount of paperwork I would have to file..."

"Because the paperwork is the main concern, of course," Sternkessel said, sounding even more amused now, and Akkau sniffed.

"There is a reason an entire infernal realm is dedicated to paperwork and bureaucracy," he said. "It is a plague upon civilization."

"So you have said. Multiple times, even."

"And if Cale did destroy another infernal realm, I would assume he had good reason. And that he took the time to evacuate the residents of the realm, first." Although if Akkau was being honest with himself, Cale's own apprentices were his insurance in that regard. He was confident, at this point, that they would neither allow Cale to wander off into another realm on his own nor allow him to destroy it without ensuring the realm was evacuated first.

Beneath his claws, the dough he was kneading had returned to a more mellow shade of pale brown, and Akkau let out a sigh of relief. Alina would have killed him if he ruined yet another batch of mood dough—it was difficult enough to gather the ingredients, since they were all rather... emotionally volatile. How Alina had obtained three entire bottles of griffin tears Akkau would never know, and in fact, he suspected he didn't want to find out.

Baking magic, though. In spite of himself, a fierce grin stole across Akkau's face, and a small lick of fire escaped from between his teeth.

To think the day would come when he would finally have the time (and the excuse) to work on this magic! His enthusiasm for the subject very nearly matched Cale's own, but there had always been too much happening around Brightscale for him to spare the extra effort for it. Not to mention his own worries about Vekorax and the extinction of dragonkind.

Which was a problem that, while not necessarily solved, was one he could finally allow himself a break on. He had made enough progress in his research to know that Vekorax was not an immediate threat. Cale's establishment of the truebridge would have shifted all the leylines and forced the Abyss to fall into a new stable configuration. Not only had that enabled inter-realm travel once more, but it had temporarily trapped Vekorax, who relied on those leylines to move between realms.

Akkau was convinced, now, that Vekorax was a manifestation of the end of dragonkind. A curse that followed them from ages past. It had been slowed tremendously when it was pushed into the leylines, but then it had adapted, and began hunting them through the traces of dragonfire in the leylines, converting it into a power of its own.

Only when those leylines shifted, it had caused all sorts of detritus to drift up again and cloud its vision. Vekorax would be stuck and unable to navigate its now-unfamiliar home.

And Akkau, who now understood the nature of dragonfire, could begin to build a reservoir of his own, separate from the leylines. It was simple, really. A minor alteration of the Streaming ritual using some of the principles of the Black Vault to create an artificial, looping leyline that did nothing but purify and amplify his dragonfire.

He had one of his greatest weapons back. Whenever Vekorax returned, Akkau would be ready for it.

And so he was able to take to baking with a joy and enthusiasm he hadn't been able to muster for—oh, who knew how long? Sternkessel did, most likely, but Akkau wasn't going to ask. They were past that now.

So! Baking magic. A small group of students had arrayed around him and Sternkessel by now, and Akkau could practically see the question they were all vibrating with. He glanced at Sternkessel, who gave him a nod, and he smirked.

Time for an impromptu class.

"You must be wondering why there is such an interest in baking magic amongst the mages and archmages of Brightscale," Akkau rumbled. Many of the students arrayed in front of him nodded eagerly—and to his delight, Akkau noticed there were Astral Wing students mixed in amongst them, this time without their peers attempting to segregate them. "We have classes on the subject, after all. What can we learn here that we would not learn in class? Well, my students, here is the truth: we do not know nearly as much about baking magic as we pretend.

"Our classes on baking magic, such as they are, cover only the basics—and even then, they cover only the spells. True baking magic is much like..."

It was much like the alchemy of the pre-Yggdrasil era, Akkau had been about to say, but that particular aspect of their adventures was still something of a secret.

"...much more a set of alchemical practices and ritual magics than they are traditional spell constructs," Akkau continued, adjusting smoothly; in the corner of his eye, he caught Sternkessel giving him a faint, approving nod. "This is not to say that there are no traditional spell constructs that fall under the category of baking magic. There are plenty! Consider [Gather Yeast] or [Moisture Control], for example, which could be used for other magics but are primarily important in baking rituals. Or this glyph on the table."

Akkau tapped the glyph printed on his baking station, making sure not to scratch the mark. "This is one of Cale's spells. It ensures anything that touches the mark is perfectly and evenly baked. The spell was gifted to him by the elemental god Vesuvius—if you remember an incident a while back where every item of raw dough in the school was spontaneously cooked, it was a result of this spell going out of control. Fortunately, we now have a way to control it.

"These are all spell constructs that are tied to baking magic. So too is the theoretically impossible [Conjure Bread]—yes, Threek, what is it?"

The three kobolds looked nervously up at him, clearly unused to not hiding within a trenchcoat. Still, it was a huge step for them, being out in the open like this; Akkau was proud of them. Their older brother stood protectively behind them, arms folded and glaring as if daring anyone nearby to comment.

"Why is [Conjure Bread] impossible?" Threek asked. "Um, that is, aren't there similar spells that work?"

"An excellent question," Professor Sternkessel cut in delicately, and Akkau stepped back to let him handle it. He was far better at these intricacies, anyway. "The concept of the perfect loaf of bread is something of a blind spot within the web of magic. It is possible to approach the spell, but as far as we know, it is not possible to have a perfect rendition of it; any attempt to craft it has resulted in similar but imperfect variants. [Conjure Loaf], for instance, or the more popular [Conjure Buns] and [Conjure Pastry] alternatives."

While Sternkessel spoke, Akkau watched, feeding tiny crumbs of dough to the voidcyte wobbling on his shoulder in the process. Cyte bobbed in appreciation.

It was remarkable how much the little guy had grown on him. He had thought of it as nothing more than something to be contained, at first, and now he was rarely found without it riding on his shoulder or within his pocket.

Then again, Cyte was hardly the only thing that applied to. Akkau chuckled to himself; as Sternkessel had said, he had a habit of picking up strays.

"If you are unfamiliar with those spells," Sternkessel continued, "suffice to say that the closer one gets to [Conjure Bread], the more unpredictable and costly the spell. [Conjure Loaf] can conjure things other than loaves of bread, for instance—most casters, except those with truly egregious amounts of mana to spare, will summon only what will very quickly turn into an angry cat. I leave the results of the other spells as an exercise to the imagination, but I urge you not to attempt the spells yourselves without supervision."

The NovelPhoenix site is the author's publication home for this story; this version was taken without permission, and reading there helps.

A few students snickered, though poor Threek seemed mostly confused. Akkau smiled at Sternkessel, who gestured for him to pick it up from there.

In response, Akkau plucked the dough he'd been kneading from the station and held it up. "But none of this is the true appeal of baking magic," he said. "For any mage who has stepped into the realm of archmage and beyond, the crafting of spells becomes second nature. It will take a great deal of work, of course, and so we prize such spells highly, but always you will know what is possible—what can be done and what will result."

That was a bit of an oversimplification, and Akkau saw a few of his more advanced students giving one another knowing looks. What he was saying was true, in its most basic form, but there were always new fields in which one could not be so certain of what was possible. There were mana aspects that were either not known or could not be fully known, and spellwork in those fields became unpredictable, a game of seeking out the traits of the magic before it inadvertently killed the mage that was studying it.

"Baking magic is different," he said, more softly now. This he did truly, earnestly believe. "It is a magic that is rooted in the mundane. We can bake without a single drop of magic, and yet it is the one mundane act that magic itself struggles to replicate. Do you not see the mystery in that? The secrets one might discover about magic itself, hidden within the cracks of what it can and cannot do?

"And beyond even that, for not everything is about magic and what it can do... it is a magic that is unpredictable. Even now, across all the Great Realms, we do not know the extent of what this magic is capable of. We are nowhere close to mapping the boundaries of its possibilities.

"If I were to give you an assignment on studying fire magic, you would understand that it is capable of destruction and protection. It can burn, but it can also provide warmth and comfort. Any spell you create will draw from these traits. This is true, too, for the more esoteric magics, even ones that are relatively unknown.

"If I assigned you to study velocity magic, you might consider effects related to energy and speed, or at the furthest reaches, perhaps effects related to spatial displacement. Salt magic might relate to taste, or to the symbolic function of salt as a means of warding off monsters. Architectural magic might involve construction, or perhaps the ability to imbue and hold magical effects within architecture itself.

"For each aspect I name, you have some idea of where to begin, correct? Some idea of what it might be able to do." Akkau watched as the students gathered before him all nodded attentively. "Now, baking magic. You might imagine you know what it does, but as I have said, the true nature of baking magic lies in alchemy and ritual—in the process, and not simply in the result. So what happens, then, if I use griffin tears rather than water for a dough? If I replace the flour with echo grain, and the sugar with nectar from dream bees?"

That nectar had, in fact, been an absolute nightmare to harvest. Akkau had been able to get only a few drops of it himself, and only with Sternkessel's help. He was fortunate in that one of the mages that answered his call had brought in several jars of the stuff, though how she'd managed to acquire quite that much was beyond him.

Serof had donated a jar of it, too, which had been a surprise. He'd have to remember to thank the moth later; he was doing quite well for himself now that he and the rest of his people had been freed from the Watchful Hive.

All the mothfolk had decided to settle near Brightscale, though, just as the lizardfolk of the Golden Sands did. They were going to have a kingdom of their own soon if this kept up. Hopefully that wouldn't cause any issues with Orstrahl, though at this point, Akkau wasn't sure he cared if it did. The King had allowed a great many atrocities to happen under his nose.

His students were all looking at one another, confused, and Akkau recalled belatedly that he'd asked them a question. Right. Cale was rubbing off on him, it seemed; he was far too easy to distract now.

"None of you know?" Akkau asked, and grinned when they all shook their heads. "As it turns out, neither do I. That is the appeal of this magic, for those of us who have lived long enough to see all other corners of possibility: we do not know what will happen next."

"And that's why baking magic is the greatest of all magics," Cale chimed in suddenly, startling Akkau. When had he shown up? He was standing to the side now, smirking as if he'd been there all along, and for some reason Thorn of all people was standing next to him looking vaguely irritated (though that didn't mean much; for as long as Akkau had known him, Thorn had always looked vaguely irritated. It was far more surprising that he was choosing to be irritated within close proximity of someone else, and indeed surprising that he was participating in this event at all.)

"Our guest of honor has joined us, I see," Akkau greeted, recovering.

"Well, I had to see what you were doing, holding a whole class over here!" Cale peered curiously at the dough Akkau was holding in demonstration. "This stuff has griffin tears in it? How'd you get the griffin tears?"

"I did not," Akkau said. "Alina did."

"Ah," Cale said, nodding to himself. "That makes sense."

Akkau stared at him. Did it? Perhaps he knew Alina less than he'd thought. Come to think of it, it might be a good idea to spend more time engaging with his faculty, now that he was no longer quite as overwhelmed.

"What're you waiting for?" Cale asked. "I wanna see what happens when you bake it."

The rest of the students seemed curious, too, and were crowding around them eagerly. Akkau sighed. "Not yet," he grumbled. "The dough has to proof first. I have only just finished kneading it."

"Oh, I have a spell for that!" Cale said, reaching for his magic. Akkau hurriedly put up a barrier just in time to deflect the spell, and was very quickly thankful he had thought to deflect it and not only to block it; whatever it was, it would have broken through a solid barrier in an instant.

"Cale," Akkau said. "We cannot introduce more magical variables now. It may change the result. We must have patience."

"I've never been good at patience," Cale grumbled. To Akkau's astonishment, Thorn gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder.

"There are other tables," Thorn rumbled. "Plenty more to see. We can return later."

"Right!" Cale brightened immediately. "I think I saw Evi and Syphus beating the absolute crap out of some dough. I wanna see what that's about. Hey, do you think..."

Almost as quickly as they'd arrived, they were gone again, and whatever else Cale said trailed off out of earshot. Akkau stared in their direction for a long moment.

"...You are now also curious about the punching, I take it," Sternkessel said, eyeing Akkau's expression and laughing. "As you said, we must wait for this dough to proof, so we may as well follow. Your project will remain safe; I will ensure it."

Akkau flashed Sternkessel a grateful grin. "Very well then. Students, return in two hours, and we will see what comes of this. Or, if you wish to stay, then tell each other jokes. This dough functions best in an emotionally positive environment."

Most of his students seemed puzzled by that remark, but Threek immediately traipsed over to the oiled bowl and the dough resting inside it, their tails wagging excitedly.

Excellent. Akkau offered Sternkessel his arm, and together they went after Cale. He was terribly curious about what everyone else was accomplishing with their magic.

It was well-known that an elemental god could only exist within their home plane. One did not simply summon an elemental god, because even those words couldn't adequately describe the process. First of all, elemental gods were not truly gods, in the sense that they did not possess the divine spark. Nor was their intent divine in nature! Instead, they were an embodiment of their elemental plane.

Therefore, if a mage wanted the presence of an elemental god within their realm, the magic that was needed was less a summoning and more the creation of an elemental matrix that could act as an avatar for their presence. This sort of magic was the sort of highly-advanced thing that only a mass ritual could accomplish, with each mage handling a different part of the enormously complex spell.

Alternatively, it could be done by one human with far too much mana for his own good. Probably. Cale wasn't really sure yet, but they were in need of a higher level of magic oven—and he wasn't about to give these mages access to his soul garden—so he was certainly going to try.

Mana overload detected! Adjusting spell construct...

[Ten Tongues of Vesuvius] has evolved into [Avatar of Vesuvius]!

[Avatar of Vesuvius, Level 1] [Fifteenth Tier, Active (Unique)] [1.0e34 Mana]

Conjure an elemental matrix capable of holding the avatar of Vesuvius, the elemental god of fire, then draw forth his presence.

Exercise caution. Elemental gods can only exist on Utelia for a limited amount of time before straining the veil.

A torrent of flame roared to life before Cale, who was pretty much the only person that didn't step back from the sheer intensity of it. Instead, he grinned and waved as Vesuvius appeared in front of them.

Then he paused. Vesuvius was as towering and intimidating as ever, but he was also wearing an apron. Also, he was sticking all ten of his tongues out, for some reason.

"Picked up baking, did you?" Cale beamed.

"Cale?" Vesuvius stared at him, then at the other Baking Day participants, and quickly withdrew his tongues in embarrassment. "How did—have you pulled me into Utelia?"

"I just evolved a spell that makes an avatar for you here, yep," Cale said cheerfully. "We could use your help. We're having a baking event."

"I'd be happy to help, of course, but..." Vesuvius looked mildly indignant. "Did you have to pull me here by my tongues?"

Cale blinked. "That's probably a side effect of how I evolved the spell," he said, a little sheepishly. "Sorry about that. It won't happen next time! Probably."

Vesuvius sighed. "I suppose that's the best I can get, with you," he said. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "And I do have you to thank for introducing me to this delightful new hobby. The denizens of the fire plane quite enjoy baked products, it seems. What was it you needed?"

Baking Day had originally been intended to be an eight-hour event. Instead, it lasted well into its sixteenth hour. When mages got into a subject of research, they really got into the subject of research.

The final result, baked with the aid of a truly monumental fire construct that didn't fit even in Alina's spatially enchanted kitchen, was a horrific amalgamation of dough. It would later become a matter of great concern to any great power that had not sent a representative to Baking Day. To those mages that did participate, however, it was a grand, final feat, and nothing to worry about in the slightest: they had simply created Utelia's first edible artifact.

They dubbed it the Everbread, and every participating mage got to take a piece of it home with them. Any piece that was broken off from the Everbread would regenerate with time, and any mage who ingested a piece of the Everbread would find their mana cores slowly growing, deepening their well of mana.

It was, Akkau decided, the perfect tribute for the upcoming Fettered Divinity tournament. It wasn't required for the participating academies to gift a tribute, but it was certainly encouraged, and it made a statement about the academy in particular. Brightscale's reputation had suffered in recent years, in part because of the Red Hunters and their actions.

The Everbread, however, would tell all of Utelia this:

Kazix Brightscale's Academy of the Attuned Arts was back. Akkau hoped his old friend would be proud of what it had become.

...Though in retrospect, it was possible Cale had something of a point about the name. It really did seem ostentatious, when put like that. Perhaps something like this instead, then.

Brightscale Academy was back, and that tournament was theirs to win, whether or not a certain dark lord got involved with it.