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LLOTF - Chapter 35 - Establishing a routine
🕑 Added 2024-12-18 02:37:16 +0000 UTCEvening passed and Tristan woke up to the bright sound of a small horn being played softly, but slowly ramping in volume. He sat up, and saw a small group of fairy dragons who were walking on their hind legs, with their arms turned into humanoid hands instead of their paws, and holding instruments. The one who was blowing into the horn instrument lowered it.
“Wake up call!”
“All right, we rehearsed. One, two-”
“I was going to be the conductor!”
“Oh, shut up! Okay, we’ll go on three.”
“Three!”
Tristan was at first quite dismayed at the sound and thought to cover his ears – but after an initial burst of loud noise, the volume level lowered and they created a hauntingly beautiful melody. The horn pierced through in small moments among the string instruments, and the one responsible for percussion – wearing a small belt with tons of little drums on it – was beating out a lively rhythm.
Tristan found himself just sitting there enjoying the performance, and when the song came to a close, he made sure to applaud. “Excellent. That sounded wonderful. A great way to wake up.”
The different fairy dragons gave each other high fives, congratulated each other, and then left.
Tristan got out of bed, put on the fresh set of clothes that were brought in the night prior, and donned his armor, strapping his sword to his hip. Grabbing the small plate of breakfast, he carried it as he walked up the spire and met The Matriarch in her humanoid form out in front of the Queen’s Wood.
She bowed her head slightly, “Lord Tristan, I have taken the liberty of having some of my children fly to the far reaches of the Fey Realm, to the ancient armories at the boundaries of this place, and they have brought back several practice weapons...and their lethal versions.” She gestured to her side, and along a root stretching out from the base of the Queen’s Wood were dozens of weapons – some that Tristan had never even thought to conceive of. All made of Adamant Wood; which he knew would rival steel.
He shook his head. Walking over to the root, he set the plate down on it – only for a fairy dragon to fly-by snatch it off of the surface before flying away. Tristan shrugged, then reached out for the largest two-handed maul there. He was able to lift it easily enough despite it having to weight at least twenty pounds. “I just want to be really skilled with a handful of weapons.”
The Matriarch nodded, “Gain mastery with a few weapons rather than versatility with many. A wise move.”
Tristan smiled as he let the hammer-head dangle next to his leg, “Yes. I’m already quite skilled with the sword. I would not say I’m a master, but I am skilled with it. I’m decent enough with a bow, and the same goes for knives.” He hefted the maul up to rest the shaft on his shoulder and let that act as a fulcrum as the heavy head dangled over his back. “Knives for up close, my sword for lightly armored and dragons, the greatbow for range, and a maul for heavily armored foes.”
The Matriarch walked over and picked up a maul of her own, along with a large shield. “Children, be some dears, and bring the rest to the training clearing.” She began leading Tristan to the grassy field, and the fairy dragons flew past the two carrying the various weapons and differently sized shields. “You know,” she said as she glanced at Tristan, “You may wish to pursue shields as well. Something small to strap onto your forearm so that you may use spells but increase your defenses.”
Tristan shook his head, “I always feel off-balance with shields. Even bucklers just feel wrong.”
“Suit yourself.” The duo arrived at the training field, and The Matriarch began training Tristan. First, she walked him through several simple combination strikes and had him repeat those while she critiqued his form and made corrections. Then, she brought out the training dummy and had him practice approaching from different angles. Lastly, she used the shield and a sword – practice ones made from Adamant Wood. Tristan kept the same maul of the same substance, as a training version would just be a less hefty variant.
And he wanted the weight. I actually want to get into a habit of this. He spun his mana core during their third practice bout – with The Matriarch primarily on the defensive – and pushed the mana into his armor. The Matriarch retreated a few steps as Tristan’s armor shifted as the stored spell, Scales of Our Foe, was activated.
The armor became more draconic and the metal plates shifted into scales. The white color became more brilliant, and the slight, black linework shifted to an icy-blue. The hood came out of the back of the armor and covered his head; and a mask came down to cover his face and protect all but his eyes for vision. Maul goes with the heavy armor so that I can trade blows and focus less on defense since the weapon is so offense focused. And when I’m using the sword, dagger, or greatbow – I stop the flow of mana. Focus on my speed.
And he could feel that ebb and flow as the mana core spun and kept feeding the armor covering him in a small, thin, cool stream that filled him with a giddy sense of elation. “What did you do?” The Matriarch asked. Tristan rapidly explained what his thoughts were, and she smiled. “I agree with your idea. How is your finger maneuverability?”
Tristan tried out the simple spell gestures and found to his satisfaction that he could still perform all of them – as the miniature scales were quite articulated and flexed with ease. “Looks good.”
“Shall we move on to spellweaving?”
“What now?”
“Ah, the Elvish term for those who fought up close with a foe while using spells. Spellweaving. Literally weaving weapon attacks with spells.”
Tristan nodded, “Yes. Let’s do that.”
They engaged in light sparring. Tristan focused first on creating Frost Walls using the spell of the same name to impede The Matriarch’s path of approach – and the occasional flung starberry from the fairy dragons watching. Eventually, The Matriarch encouraged her children to do more of that, and they jeered and shouted as they pelted Tristan with the food projectiles. This forced him to use multiple Frost Wall spells in rapid succession to prevent himself from being covered with the goopy berries; simulating a barrage of rocks from slingers, arrows, or even crossbow bolts.
And he felt himself tiring. He had to let the armor shift back to its usual state and focused entirely on defense as The Matriarch came at him in a measured, smooth, and semi-aggressive approach. During this defensive move, Tristan reverse-spun his mana core…then stopped himself. I won’t be able to do that in the Mortal Realm. I need to be able to fight while in a deficit. He stopped the spin of his core and focused on trying to stay behind his Frost Walls to avoid the incoming barrage of fruit, and holding The Matriarch off.
She took a few steps back to disengage and raised an eyebrow quizzically, “Why not draw more mana to continue at full capacity?”
Tristan let the maul head sink to the ground as The Matriarch waved off the next bombing-run of starberries. “I…wanted to…fight like I would…if I was in the…Mortal Realm.” He was sucking in air in between words, and leaned forward on the weapon as he took a quick breather.
Almost immediately, he sensed movement. Starting to pull back, he felt a thwack on his head. “Ouch!” he shouted as he brought his hands up to rub the rapidly-forming bruise. “What was that for?”
The Matriarch continued battering him around the shoulders, chest, and legs while Tristan tried to dodge finding moderate success. “You want to fight like we are in the Mortal Realm? Your foes will give you no quarter. And you left your weapon behind!”
Tristan took up a pugilist’s stance and tried to compose himself as the next sword swing came in. Moving his open palm to the inside of The Matriarch’s arm, he gripped the forearm and pulled her forward and off balance – sliding his hand down to hers and wrestling the weapon from her grip. She pulled the shield around and bashed him on the back with it – but he held tight as he finished the spin that reversed their positions. She was now in the spot where the three Frost Walls had been erected to block Tristan off from the aerial assault.
He slammed his fist into the ground as she regained her balance, “Ich beschwöre eine Wand aus Eis herauf.” (I summon forth a wall of ice). He poured all of the remnants of his lingering mana into the spell, spinning his core as quickly as he could. The wall of ice sprung up and trapped The Matriarch within the four walls, and Tristan fell backward from the exhaustion.
There was a tremendous crack, and Tristan rolled back up to his feet, going for the maul, and hefting it once more as The Matriarch bashed the shield over and over again at the Frost Wall. “Neat trick!” she shouted as she grinned and laughed, the voice echoing from the four walls and giving it an odd tone. “Children, go get him!”
Tristan was immediately set upon by a hail of starberries, and he covered his face and eyes to prevent from being blinded as the sweet-smelling, sticky berries splattered against him. He couldn’t help but let out an exhausted laugh at the impromptu food-fight.
The Matriarch finished breaking out of the icy prison and planted the practice blade on the ground. “I think that is enough practice for one day.”
Tristan nodded and the fairy dragons called off their assault, going back to perch on the trees and brag to each other about how many hits they scored on Tristan. He looked at The Matriarch and smiled, “This is what I need. But tomorrow, blending Frost Flurries instead.”
“Practice does make perfect,” The Matriarch replied. “Now, I believe you said meditation was next on your planned routine?” She led Tristan to the center of the field, and a group of fairy dragons brought one of the cushion-style seats from the Queen’s Wood for Tristan to sit on. “I’m going to walk you through the process, and then leave you to it. The band will come rouse you when it has been a few hours.”
Tristan nodded and followed her instructions as he relaxed on the cushion. Breathing in the opposite way of his mana core spin was jarring, but once he got used to the rhythm and began visualizing, he felt himself going deeper and deeper – almost as if he was dropped into a trance. And when he became aware of his surroundings once more, he was inside his mana core. His inner world.
It was just like before, but the tree at the center was slightly larger, and the core itself felt just a little bigger. He looked around and saw a few more dents – and he set to work with the phantom maul that he had in his grip. Walking over to the edges of the barrier, he lightly hammered out the flaws – feeling a little bit of chest pain every time he did so. But the snow glowed more vibrantly and shifted to a deeper silver instead of the white-silver it had been.
I can see the progress I am making now. He walked over to the tree and measured its height compared to himself. It is about one and a half of me in height. I wish I could mark that somehow.
As if responding to his thoughts, a series of concentric rings appeared on the center of the tree. A small circle with surrounding circles, almost as if it was carved into the tree and healed over. Elvish lettering within each circle shifted to Standard Tongue. The first circle was filled with the silvery light of his mana’s manifestation, with sparkling flecks of icy-blue, gold, and crimson.
I’ve almost filled the first circle, he thought. Which means I must be close to being able to perform Second Order spells! The idea filled him with excitement, and he scanned the spinning core around him for more dents to hammer out. Now I at least have a good, consistent way to track my progress.
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Hours passed, he was sure, when the same group of fairy dragons playing instruments woke him up with a raucous beat. He was brought out of his reverie almost instantly and saw the band a small distance off. And for good reason, as the whole area around Tristan – easily out twenty feet – was covered in rime and frost.
Standing up, he heard the sound of practice weapons on armor. Glancing to the far side of the field, he saw fairy dragons in humanoid form fighting each other. The Matriarch must have decided on having a defensive force, after all, he thought. Making his way back to the Queen’s Wood, he snacked on some starberries and drank some clearcool before going up the spire and to the boughs of the tree.
Sinking down into the chair, he perused the primers at his disposal. I have yet to look into the illusion, flora, imbuement, and enchantment ones. Ice elementalism, as far as I know, is on-hold because I have learned and memorized all the First Order spells the book offers. The same with Artifice, as I don’t plan on stripping the artifice from any of my equipment.
He drummed his fingers across the spines of the books. I suppose Imbuement is as good as any. He grabbed the primer and flipped it open. Skipping past the introduction, he thought, why does everyone one of these magecraft users have to advertise they are the ones who wrote it? The name is on the cover? I don’t care about your life story.
He got to where the interesting parts began.
---
Welcome to your primer on imbuement. The more useful, if less renowned, lesser cousin to artifice.
Imbuement is used to create items (scrolls which are one-time use spells, and elixirs, which are herbal concoctions and remedies [commonly referred to as ‘potions’] empowered by mana to bring out their true characteristics).
There are other forms of imbuement for other consumable items, such as food, drink, poultices, and other single-use objects or substances. However, this primer will not touch upon those as this is meant to entail the basics. (Go buy the next book in my series if you want to really take your food to the next level with magically enhanced flavor!)
Imbued items are consumed upon use – whether ripping a spell scroll in half to cast the spell stored within or drinking an elixir. Once it is used, it is gone for good. New stores will have to be created.
Depending on the type of imbuement (i.e. scrolls or elixirs), you will need the following:
1. (If creating an elixir) – a prepared potion. Suspended in a solution (such as a light oil) is preferred to ensure liquid consistency.
2. (If creating a scroll) – parchment, vellum, or another paper-like, tear-able, flat consumable that can accept ink.
a. 3 inches x 3 inches is the minimum size. Larger is allowed depending on the size of your quill strokes.
b. It is ill-advised to go beyond 1 foot x 1 foot in size, as spell scrolls are meant to be quickly ripped in half – and the larger the scroll, the longer it will take.
3. (If creating a scroll) – a quill and ink inside of an inkwell.
Each different spell has its own set of steps included. Please reference each section by Order for an explanation. And don’t forget, the imbuement cookbook is out now! Go spice up your life with magecraft!
Additionally, there are certain criteria you need to meet for spell scrolls.
1. You have access to the spell type you wish to use to cause a specified effect.
a. Unlike artifice, there is no way to bypass the restriction by having another magecraft user present to cast the desired spell.
2. Mana capacity enough to cast two spells of the same Order in rapid succession.
a. Both for the spell to infuse the ink as you write, and for the spell that you will be storing.
Oh, and one last item; as with artifice, you cannot use imbuement to make, say, a scroll that enables the use of imbuement spells. The same goes for trying to put an artifice spell into a scroll. The two spell types do not play nice with each other, or even themselves, beyond their specific uses.
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Tristan flipped through the pages. Scanning the instructions for Infuse Elixir, he saw that it was the simpler of the two, and he had already done it before. The only difference was the language – this one was written in Demon’s Tongue, whereas he knew the Elvish version and had already etched it into his memory from his use of the spell the day prior.
Going past that section and all of the subsequent elixir sections, he flipped to the portion about spell scrolls.
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Imbue Scroll (First)
Required Components: quill, inkwell (filled with ink), parchment (or similar writing surface) of appropriate size.
Spell Phrase: “Prends cette goutte de possibilité infinie et guide mon mana dans la pointe de la plume. Transforme le pouvoir de ce sort, permettant de l'emmagasiner en cas de besoin.” (Take this drop of infinite possibility and guide my mana into the tip of the quill. Transform the power of this spell, allowing it to be stored for a time of need).
Spell Gesture: Hold the inkwell in your dominant hand (or, if ambidextrous, either hand works). Cover the top of the open inkwell with your thumb and wrap the container fully in your fingers so that it is not visible.
Instructions: After casting the spell on the ink, you will write the words of the spell you are storing in the scroll. While you write the words, you will speak the spell phrase – the exact same moment that your lips move, your quill must also move. Take appropriate pauses as necessary with your speaking and quill dipping. While speaking this spell phrase, you must push your mana into your writing-hand’s fingertips, and down into the quill.
---
Tristan looked up at the few fairy dragons who were dancing with each other in a slow waltz, with a single violinist from the earlier music troupe playing a soft melody. Getting up and walking gingerly around them, he went over to imbuing station and saw several sheets of a large, dried-out leaf that functioned similar to parchment. Picking one up, and also grabbing a quill which looked to be a hollowed-out needle of some type, he grabbed an inkwell and shook it next to his ear.
Full up. Putting it into his right hand, he closed his eyes and spun his mana core. He felt the cooling energy surge through his body, and whispered the spell phrase. “Prends cette goutte de possibilité infinie et guide mon mana dans la pointe de la plume. Transforme le pouvoir de ce sort, permettant de l'emmagasiner en cas de besoin.” He saw the silvery tinged icy-blue mana flow down his hand and into his thumb before his hand grew warm.
Setting it down, he saw the ink was swirling with the same color of his mana. And now what spell do I want to store? He tapped the quill against his temple a few times before it struck him. The Invoke Growth spell from the flora spell type. He began writing out the words, muttering them under his breath as he spoke and only pausing to re-dip his quill.
“Nopeuttaa näiden kasvien kasvua. Auta niitä juurtumaan.” The ink flowed out of the quill and onto the page as he wrote, and as he did so, the letters almost took on a life of their own. As he finished and put the quill away, the ink faded to a silvery color – the same as his mana…but a thought struck him. I don’t know how to read or write Elvish…how’d I just do that?
“Curious.”
Tristan jumped a little as he looked back to see The Matriarch. “Oh, you startled me.”
She pointed at the spell scroll, “This would be excellent to sell a burgeoning herbalist or gardener. Or, if you desired to grow your own garden which there is space for, already.”
Tristan gestured to the scroll, “I don’t know how to read or write Elvish…but I did. Can you explain that?”
The Matriarch smiled, “It is your heritage, Lord Tristan. You were able to read the language on the vault in the depths below, were you not? This is similar. Congratulations, you are fluent in Elvish.”
Tristan was taken aback by that. Learning Dragon’s Tongue was a pain in the ass – and now I get full language literacy as a benefit of being an Elf? Well, I won’t look the gift-chimera in the lion-head. “Good to know. Time to test it out.”
The Matriarch sprouted wings from her back, grabbed Tristan, and flew him down to the ground at the base of the tree. She led him over to a series of small grasses that were just breaking through. “You should be able to just tear the scroll, and the spell will manifest.”
“This was weak the last time I did it,” Tristan said as he crouched down next to the small, verdant growths. “And I could only do one plant at a time because of the spell gesture…how will this work?”
“To be frank, I do not know. I do not often make spell scrolls.”
Tristan sighed. Well, I need to test this out regardless. He held the spell scroll above the center-most sprout and ripped the scroll in half. It flared with a silvery light before bursting into sparkles that shimmered in the air around him. The shimmers began to settle on the plants below, and all of them grew a tiny bit. Putting his head flat on the ground, he saw they were very slowly growing. “Looks like it affected everything the sparkles touched.” The growth continued for ten seconds before stopping.
The Matriarch helped him up, “A good test to be sure. We are drawing towards the evening. I would advise skipping the artifice today – my children have been preparing a treat.”
Tristan raised a quizzical eyebrow but followed her into the tree. To his surprise, the tree interior had been completely redecorated with hanging, shimmering purple lanterns with little bursts of green and blue light inside. The band that had been in his room earlier had expanded to a full ensemble, and there were grassy reeds laid all about to form a flat surface. Many fairy dragons were transformed into a humanoid shape – some were taller, some shorter, which Tristan attributed to their size – seeing how The Matriarch towered over all of them.
She gestured and the group bowed, “You should not just learn the language, magecraft, and fighting prowess of your ancestors, but also our revelries and culture. As such, my children have been practicing – clearing the rust off, figuratively speaking. Both for the song and dance. Please, do not feel pressured to join in – but if you wish to learn, we will of course teach you of your people.”
Tristan chuckled and walked to the center of the dance space. The Matriarch joined him, and began guiding him through the dance steps. It was similar to a waltz – which Tristan was familiar with from being in court culture. However, this was not slow and gentle. It was fast, and continually involved him turning in multiple directions.
The Matriarch was an excellent teacher, and despite his few stumbles – which elicited some laughter from the surrounding fairy dragons, he found joy in the activity. Tristan laughed along with them, and the lesson on Elven culture lasted deep into the night as he danced and danced. It felt right. As if he was meant to be doing this.
As if he was born for this.
