The Resigned Dilettante
patreon
Chapter 94: A bit of relaxation
🕑 Added 2025-07-16 02:46:56 +0000 UTC[A couple of things. To avoid the mistake of two chapters ago, I have decided to forgo the file upload in favour of copying the text over. Let me know if this causes any problems. Second, recently my 'paid member' view hasn't been showing the 'names' post as being pinned, and I also found out that pinning doesn't even work for public view after switching it over. So I have added a copy to the about section which is now the most up to date. Finally:
Chapter 89: No major changes.]
After sword club is spell studies on the spindle. As before, the class isn’t taught by one teacher but by a collection of mostly senior students positioned around the edge to offer guidance in specific spells.
The lightning guy is here again, but I don’t really feel like learning it tonight. Maybe if there was another storm rolling in, I’d choose him just for the added synergy. Without one though, while I want to learn it eventually, I don’t see myself needing it in the near future.
Unfortunately, that is the only spell I’m learning that guidance is presently being provided for. I could just ignore the guidance and focus on one of my own spells, but that seems like it would be wasteful.
…I have recently finished a few spells, perhaps it’s time to start another. I look around at the chalkboards describing what’s being offered and spot someone teaching physical illusion magic. That seems rather useful and I’m less hesitant about everyone knowing I know it than my psychic illusion spells (concealment and mental whisper) since it’ll likely be a while before I can manage anything other than echoey sounds and ghostly figures – obvious what they are even without extra scrutiny.
Thinking about it, they’ll likely start pushing mages to reach Adrian’s level in illusions before graduating soon. It’s just too useful in Caethlon type fighting, which they seem to be preparing for, and eventually my not knowing the spells will be weird.
This does raise the question that if everyone is going to have Adrian’s present skill in illusions in a few years, what will they be capable of then? Will they go the opposite way and become a generalist, or will they double down on their specialization? I actually have no idea what an elite illusionist can do but it sounds scary. Perhaps I should suggest they go the generalist route.
After making some rapid progress in the first illusion spell (just creating a translucent image (which itself can generate obviously fake sounds) at a distance with limited scale) I once again join Ellen on the ground ahead of the rest of the group.
“You really need to work on your landings,” she says standing over my supine form, her long straight hair dangling, dancing in the nearly faded light.
I flash a reassuring smile. “On the contrary, my landings are perfectly controlled. I deliberately collapse backwards when I hit to absorb the impact. If I tried to stay standing, I’d likely break a leg.”
“Maybe, but it’s not exactly calming seeing it. If you’re going to jump every time you should get better slowfall items, or better yet learn a spell. What if you hit your head on a rock? I don’t know any healing spells. You might die before I can get you to someone.”
I…smile at the concern. It feels nice. “I have a boon of the bird god and the cat. My distance vision and night vision are both excellent and I can control my descent fairly well. I would see any rocks before I jumped and choose another landing spot.”
She sighs, seemingly exasperated. “You’re so confident about the silliest things. Is mingling with the others on the stairs so awful that you choose pointless risk instead?”
“…Not on the way up,” I admit, causing her to nod in understanding which in turn emboldens me to press. “Besides, that’s an odd point from someone who flies both ways.”
“I’ve been instructed to fly whenever practical as training. Besides, my spell is far safer than your acrobatics.”
“Says the one who fell halfway down the first time they went up because they hit the barrier.”
She blushes. “I didn’t know about that, but I do now. Obviously, I won’t hit it again.”
I smile from her reaction, feeling relaxed. It’s odd, last week, after training with the storm on its way, our minds were utterly flayed. Every word felt awkward, every movement unbearable. Our minds are still flayed this time, but much less. It’s usually still awkward talking to people in this state, but for some reason, it feels the opposite right now. We’re able to fall into a rhythm with each other without painful awareness of ourselves in each other’s eyes.
Movement at the base of the spindle catches my eye and I turn to see our fellow students begin trickling out.
“Well, I think we just lost all advantage from our respective stunts,” I say, causing her to tense at my calling her spell a stunt, but doesn’t counter. “We best get going. Don’t want to be the last ones back to our dorms.” Curfew is extended for those studying at the spindle or who pay for more private locales, but not by much.
“Yeah… Do you want to meet up again in the same place to study before Herbalism?”
“Yeah, sounds great.”
The next morning, after spell practice on the dorm roof, I find myself with nothing to do. Last week I had irregular weapons during this time, but now I have nothing until history after lunch.
It’s nice, at least in context of recovering from the spindle. I really should have intentionally planned some rest time, but underestimated how draining the special sessions would be. I knew it would be bad, which was why I filled this slot with my physical training so I wouldn’t have to think. But that may have been overambitious, especially since it seems like my weekends are going to be a lot busier than initially planned.
I don’t know what I should do though. I have six hours of free time and a headache that disinclines me to study. Besides, my assignments are all done for the rest of the week.
I spend an hour taking care of my plants and taking notes on them. Part of the deal for me having this room to myself is to make a report on any findings I have on the plants (Which I’m allowed to double for my classwork if applicable). For now, I’m taking notes on the effects of repeated plant growth spells using the same soil.
It’s interesting. There’s no apparent effect on the quality of the plants using the spell vs mundane methods, at least until after about the fifth time using the same soil. Then the plants suddenly start growing increasingly withered and will die mid growth after about seven. However, plants grown mundanely in soil used for the spell will come up withered after only about two spell cycles, if at all. This of course varies based on plant type and if you use the spell from seed to fully grown or just part of the way.
I’m also experimenting with fertilizer but have run into a frustration there as even the lightest amount has extended the effective use of the soil indefinitely. Which in some ways is good as it means the spell is more useful, but it also prevents me from finding out what I need to know. Presumably, things will eventually stop working depending on how much fertilizer is used, but my spells are currently just too slow to find out in a timely fashion, and trying is very time consuming.
I consider just spending the remaining five hours growing plants, but there’s really no point. I can maintain two growth spells at once, but even so, that’s just ten more fully grown plants. I’m simply not going to find anything else out before learning the advanced spells. Besides, I only ever grow the plants while studying and I’m not doing that with my headache.
So, I leave my room with no goal in mind. I spend a little bit relaxing in the garden courtyard lying beneath a tree and watching my fellow students go about. It would be nice to fall asleep here, but I’m not tired, so I head out.
I should have planned this ahead and asked if anyone had free time now that they wouldn’t mind sharing. Though I suppose they’d likely be using it to study if they did as none of my acquaintances besides Ellen has to recover from the spindle.
Maybe I’ll go watch some knights train. I understand that’s a popular pastime and I might learn something of interest seeing them dispassionately. I’ve of course seen knights fight before, but usually they’re trying to kill or (occasionally) protect me. I seldom have time to mark their finer movements.
There’s faint cheering as I near the arena coupled with the smell of greasy stall food. There’s a short line of mostly commoners buying entrance for a few raem, but I skip it by flashing my nexus disk with the academy’s insignia displayed to indicate I’m a student. It would be easy to fake, but cheaper just to pay the viewing fee, especially since there isn’t any particular event today.
Really, I find it a bit weird that anyone would take a class in a public venue. How can they focus on learning if they have to worry about embarrassing themselves in front of a bunch of random commoners? Though I understand many of the knightly pathed feel motivated under such circumstances.
Yet another example of how weird knights are. There was a famous mage a few hundred years ago who once claimed that there’s something inherent to the knightly condition that lends itself to showboating, though most don’t take this seriously… What was the exact quote? Something like ‘their solidarity with themselves compels reflection in the other’.
So annoying. Forget about knights, there’s something about mages from two hundred years ago that compelled them to say things in the weirdest ways. Mages from the previous century didn’t talk like that, nor the century after. But, via correlation or causation, there was a whole cluster of famous mages from around then who made major contributions to magic theory, so I’ve had to read half a dozen books in similar styles studying for the exam and will almost certainly read a few dozen more by the time I graduate.
Still, I suppose there is something charming in the phrasing when taken in moderation.
The arena is filled to about a tenth of its capacity. I don’t know if I was expecting a lot more or fewer. I buy some meat in bread thing from a haggard looking food vendor and find a vacant spot to sit. The benches are just stone blocks that jut out from the slope as if part of the structure and I am too short for them. My toes reach the floor, but my heels do not – forcing a weight distribution just painful enough for my cloak to puff up a fraction of an inch as if I’m being attacked after a few seconds of delay.
The cushioning is nice, but unfortunately lifts me up even further from the ground, decreasing the pain at the cost of increasing the discomfort. Perhaps I should just sit on the steps. Unfortunately, before I can act a group of fellow students (and seemingly fellow mages) sit a few paces away, making it impossible to reposition without seeming like I’m trying to get away.
“Oh, there’s Terry!” a girl in the group shouts after a few moments of not glancing at them.
“Yeah, and he’s paired with Ser Nilerhal just like you thought,” another girl responds, just as excited.
I look where they’re pointing and quickly spot Ser Terry. I’m a little annoyed at their informality towards him, but I’m more intrigued by their excitement and so scoot over to ask. “Excuse me, I’m new to these things. Is this ‘Terry’ a recurring feature?”
“Don’t you know? Terry is our youngest knight,” the original exclaimer says. I don’t know what she means by ‘our’, but I let her continue. “They started having him spar against squires a few years older, but he kept on beating them all so now they’re finally moving him up to spar with other knights.”
“I see,” I say, “he must be very skilled then.”
“Oh yes,” another says, “Ser Nilerhal may be the least skilled of the Academy’s current knights, but that still means he’s one of the best for his age in the world. They wouldn’t have paired Terry with him if he didn’t have a chance.”
“…So who do you think will win?” I ask.
“Terry, of course!” The three girls in the group all shout, two at once, the other with some delay.
“Nilerhal,” one of the two boys says. “Ser Terrance is skilled but from outside the empire where they have laxer standards to grant the title, and the academy has even higher standards than the rest of the empire. Nilerhal will win.”
“Yeah, but that’s what you said for the squires. You’re just jealous because Terry’s handsome.”
Is he? I hadn’t noticed. On reflection I suppose his face fits the standard criteria: Symmetrical with no blemishes; a strong jaw that's not overly chiselled; smooth wavy hair that stops just short of his eyes. Yes, I can see how he fits that description.
“Would you care to back that sentiment with a bet?” the Nilerhal supporter asks ruefully.
“Ugh, I would, but I blew my gambling allowance on the Jakerhal duel last week,” the girl says.
“I’d accept a wager on next month’s, or you could just dip into your general allowance.”
“Mother would be cross. She specifically said not to do that.”
“How would she know?”
“You’d tell her, for one, out of spite when you lose. These jesters for two, just because it’d be funny.” She gestures to the rest of the group.
“Ah, I guess you do know us.” One of them admits.
“Fair enough,” the boy concedes, “anyone else care to take the bet?”
“I would,” I say, “if you’re fine with an outsider joining in on the fun?”
“Certainly, if you have the coin.”
“How much?” I ask, “A um… medium gold?”
“A medium? For a spar?” he scoffs, “Slow down. The fun stops when you run out of coin – you or me. A small gold would be a large bet in this circumstance.”
“…All right, a small,” I say, placing the agreed coin in the space between us.
The spar starts with a furry of steel as both combatants try to aggressively outmanoeuvre each other to slip their blade past the other’s shield. Things go for the worse when Nilerhal breaks tempo to shield bash Ser Terry’s helmeted head, knocking him back several paces.
“A foul blow!” one of the group exclaims.
“Why?” I ask.
My bet taker explains as the spar resumes. “The swords and shields all have a minor enchantment that stiffens them when in contact with each other, but bends slightly when hitting anything else. This makes them safe to spar… for armoured knights at least. But Nilerhal struck with the edge of the shield, where the safety enhancement is least effective. Not against the rules, but I regret to inform you that your champion is likely a bit wobbly right now.”
Irritated in part from the impending lost coin, in part that Ser Terry would dare disappoint me, but mostly from the smug tone at the end of the explanation, I shout in a fit of pique. “I’ll mock you if you lose Ser Terry!”
Ser Terry jumps back for space and snaps his head to look in my direction. The helmets are more opened faced than would be worn in battle, so I make out his eyes widening in surprise followed by a twitch of a smile.
Naturally, my distraction nearly gets him ‘killed’, but he ducks out of the way at the last moment and counterattacks to his advantage – gradually increasing tempo with frantic energy until he finally overwhelms his opponent and knocks him on his back. Sword pointed at a weak point in his armour, Nilerhal drops his own weapons and yields with upturned palms.
Ser Terry takes the offered hand and lifts Nilerhal to his feet with a smile. They exchange praise then Ser Terry bounds away in our direction and leaps up the thirty foot wall forming the arena pit, catching the ledge and pulling himself up.
“Malichi! I didn’t know you’d be here!”
“Me either,” I say cooly, then fumble as I feel compelled to explain. “I mean, um, I didn’t know you’d be here, though I guess I didn’t know I’d be here too… I quit the class I had now and didn’t have anything else to do.” Up close with the girl’s claim in mind it’s hard not to notice that he is indeed handsome. It’s embarrassing that my perception could be so easily altered by a passing word.
“Oh, what happened?” he asks, concerned.
“Eh, it’s embarrassing. I’m sure Ligryn will be delighted to tell you… Er, you remember Ligryn, right? The Rohdami girl from the exam? Have you seen her around since then?” I clumsily cover my forgetting that he doesn’t know that I know they’ve been skulking around graveyards together in the dead of night.
“Um, yeah, a few times. I’ll be sure to ask the next time I see her.”
“Please don’t,” I say, sighing in regret that I mentioned it.
He laughs then stops suddenly as we hear a voice calling faintly from the distance. “Presley! Stop chatting up the girls and get back here for your next match!”
“Guess you better go,” I say with a shrug then glance to the group staring at us from just a few feet away. “But um, maybe say hi to your fans before you do.” I’m a little bit mocking about him having fans, but I also just want to ameliorate them given some of the looks they’re giving.
“Oh, hi!” He smiles in irritating similarity to Allan, “Nice to meet you, but um… Teacher’s calling. See you later.”
The group all stammer polite responses, except the Nilerhal fan who glowers at me and one of the girls who says something like “hold you to that” then watch him go in silence.
“You didn’t say you knew him.” Team Nilerhal accuses.
“Didn’t I?” I ask coyly then shrug. “Doesn’t invalidate the bet though.”
“No… I suppose not.” He painfully admits.
One of the girls chimes giddily in. “What he means is: How did you guys meet? What’s your relationship?”
“Oh, um…” I scratch my head at the scrutiny. “We were on the same team during the exam, and have a few classes together. I guess you could say we’re friends.”
“Was that the team for the breakthrough test?” One of them asks excitedly.
“Um, yeah. That’s the one. Why?”
“Well, his team got the year’s high score. Everyone talked about it.”
“Hmph,” one of the girls utters, her face rapidly shifting from giddy excitement to strange resentment and suspicion for reasons I cannot fathom. “I bet Ser Terry did all the work and you didn’t do anything.”
Pride rankled, I give her a level look that provokes flinching. “Ser Terry’s team got the year’s high score because I got the individual high score for the history of the test.”
A brief, glorious second of stunned silence before one of them exclaims, “Oh, I know who you are! You’re that gloomy mage!”
“…Pardon?” I ask, my turn to be stunned.
“Yeah,” she presses on “that’s what Riley called you. Said something about lacking all sense of propriety and honour and that you hate mundanes.”
My mouth hangs agape. “… I do not… I’m sorry, just to be clear, you’re talking about Squire Riley Plimhal, right?”
“Yeah, I heard him talking about you at a party.”
“At a party? How many… No matter. To give my side, Riley Plimhal’s insistence on moronic tactics caused us to lose the skirmish test and at the very least you shouldn’t listen about propriety from someone who doesn’t even have enough of their own not to badmouth the person who saved them during the breakthrough test.”
“Oh,” she smiles mischievously, “if that’s how you really feel, I’ll be sure to tell him when I see him.”
“Don’t bother,” I sneer, “I have a class with him this evening – I’ll say it myself.”
