Wandering Agent
patreon
Machinist of Mana Chapter 32 Cores
🕑 Added 2024-03-24 02:11:57 +0000 UTCBefore I knew it the first week of classes had passed. Overall things weren't too bad, some of the science was weird, or downright wrong, but for the most part we covered a smattering of general topics that you might expect for middle or high school students and several forms of combat. There was a lot of overlap with things I'd learned in my previous life, and those subjects I breezed through, boring as it might be algebra didn't really change between one world and another.
There were also classes that no kid on Earth would have expected, like all the lessons on fighting and war tactics. We were learning how to fight on battlefields that were in constant evolution due to the increase in magical potency and firearms. Magic also changed how armies fought in general, with alterations in tactics, supply chains, organization, and even some of the normal rules of engagement.
The last of which were very important. In this world it was the priests who named and enforced the conventions of combat and they were not known for their mercy to those who violated them. These priests used a different magic than I did, and they were almost universally inducted into one of several Orders. I didn't have a notable relationship with any personally, but as I understood their power was related to living things and what they felt was 'right' whatever that meant.
All that aside I'd made it through those tasks and now had only one more before I had a couple of days off then began it all again. That was how I found myself in one of the tucked away back corners of the school, with only a few of my fellows.
“My my, what a promising crop of students. So many of your fellows choose not to join my class, and I'm thrilled that you have come to join me. I'm Professor Ruian, and don't worry, I'll make sure to take care of you all.” the teacher told us, an older woman, and one of the few female instructors.
She wasn't wrong either, there were only five of us here. This class was of course completely optional for us, and seen as a bit of an oddball choice, even if it was one of the ones I was most excited about.
“Now come with me, and I'll show you all about building your cores!” she declared excitedly. “Each of you will need to meditate in a specialized room, which will assist in the process of building it. While there and concentrating you'll be pulled into a sort of mental space, where you can do the construction.”
“And how will we do that Professor?” I asked.
“Excellent question young man. It is difficult to describe, but by focusing you'll find that you can. There will be a series of lights you need to follow, just do so and you'll have no problems. You just need to follow the color coding.”
She gave a very brief description of what looked right or wrong, though insisted that it really would be quite obvious.
“Now normally we'd have lectures about the basics on how to use it first, but I find that with boys you tend to do better if we alternate between the meditation and more practical aspects. So, follow me.”
We were led into a room of dark stone, with a central plinth surrounded by circles on the ground.
“Wow,” one of the lads with me said, and I had to agree, this was the most magical looking room I'd ever been in.
“Wow indeed. This pillar is the beginning, the start of what led us to the society we have today. Well, not this one, but you know.” She waved her hand as if pushing away questions.
“Are they hard to make?” I asked.
“Interestingly no, you'll learn about that later though. Now let's begin, an hour first and then we'll begin with the instruction on how to use what you'll be learning here.”
We took our places and began to meditate, and as she'd described we were pulled into a sort of mental illusion where we could build. So build I did, slowly putting things together bit by bit, learning one very important thing. That doing this was painfully, abysmally boring, like following the simplest diagram and just putting the pieces in one by one, an endless piece of self-assembled furniture. It even felt physical, like I was taking the energy and molding it with my hands.
After my hour I was pulled out of the illusion or whatever it was and back into the real world. There I found something far more interesting. Professor Ruian certainly knew her business, as she'd made a sort of game of the basics of how to make the runes work. We were each given a list of cards with numbers letters, and the like, each of which had a basic instruction on them. The rules of how these went together were then provided and we had to try to work out how to make a working version.
I recognized it immediately, it was coding, like in C or Python. How it went together looked exactly like coding, and some of the 'runes' we were given looked an awful lot like English words if you squinted, like something cludged together by someone making their own programming language. My eyebrows rose higher and higher as the class went on, for clearly I was not the first. Even if I was no expert I'd had to deal with it enough in work to recognize the basics.
“Professor,” I asked. “Where exactly did this come from? The runes and all.”
“Hmm? You should have covered that in your History classes shouldn't you? Lazy tutors I suppose, never teaching the very beginnings before going to the interesting bits. These were made by an elven ruler many years past, most of them nowadays simply refer to him as 'the king' or 'His Majesty' since he's been the only one of them to ever take that title.”
“Is... is he still around?” I asked hopefully, I knew elves lived a very long time.
“Oh goodness no. That was, oh, nearly fifty-four hundred years ago or something? Elves might live a long time, but they're not truly immortal, regardless of what some of them claim about their leaders.”
My grandfather had said something similar to me, something about an old ruler who'd made flying ships, one that was long gone. There was also the eerie similarity in some of the outfits, designs, and the like here and there, and this all but confirmed it, there had been others like me. Could I meet them? Should I meet them? Were any even still alive or was I alone? Perhaps I needed to look into it, old history first, see what I could find.
The next morning was supposed to be my day off, and I had to disappoint both Lucas and the several lads he'd pulled along with him when I told them that I was heading to the library rather than being interested in sparring. In particular my friend looked like I'd lost my mind.
“It's the first week of classes Percival!” he objected. “There's no way you've been assigned enough work to need that.”
“Just want to look a few things up Lucas. Heard something that I want to know more about.”
“You'll never get better if you don't fight more, studying can wait.” He really did seem determined.
“Look, it shouldn't take me too long, how about we meet at the arena a bit before dinner?”
“No,” he finally said.
“No?”
“No, I'm coming with you, if you can't speed yourself along enough to not waste the entire day with your nose buried in papers I'll help.”
I sighed, it was sure to be a long afternoon.
