Gawain watched as Sethys carefully measured out the components for a spell. His teacher carefully filled a beaker with a precise amount of white powder, smoothing out the top so that there was no more, and no less than absolutely necessary.
“Precision, as in all things, is the first step toward mastery, Gawain. But,” Sethys put the beaker down among the rest of the gathered components, tapping it against the table so that a flurry of the odd, powdery substance sloughed off the top, “a little bit of inefficiency, if properly measured… that can be quite useful, quite useful indeed.”
Gawain paid little attention to the words his teacher spoke. It was always difficult to pay attention for this long; he felt his attention being dragged elsewhere, his peripheries seeming far more enthralling than whatever lesson was being taught.
He hummed lightly, a tune he had learned the night before… ah. The memories were still hazy from drink, but the song was still there. He remembered dancing up against a beautiful man, dressed in fine leathers. Who was he… ah, yes. The bard. Quite a… memorable performance. That bard has a mystical tongue, one not limited to singing alone.
“Gawain!” Sethys snapped. Gawain shook his head and looked at his teacher’s hands, cheeks reddening.
“Honestly, it’s like herding goats with you. Goats that have focus problems.” Sethys sighed. “Watch, please. Watch carefully.”
The teacher took his hand and waved it over the glass of water within the assembly of ingredients, then whispered, “freeze.” The cup froze, as Gawain could have guessed it would; but it was accompanied by a trail of sparkles, glittering as they flowed through the air.
It was the most beautiful thing Gawain had seen in his life. Well, second-most beautiful thing. That bard, from the night before… mmhmm.
“Can you teach me how to make those?” Gawain asked politely. His teacher’s face dropped, mouth opening, dumbfounded.
“I… I just did.”
Gawain hadn’t noticed when Learn walked away. He had been too engrossed in their — his discussion on the proper color for a spellbound cooking fire, perhaps for roasting a young lamb. Purple, obviously, but exactly what shade to choose was a matter he had been ruminating on for quite some time.
He needed to pay more attention to his surroundings. But he couldn’t help it, when he got engrossed. All else would just… fall by the wayside. Occasionally, he would focus so much on a specific task that he would forget to eat and drink, noticing only when he would rise to his feet and nearly collapse.
He was shaken from his tumultuous inner monologue by an elven man in truly resplendent garments appearing in front of him, leaning down to look at his face. The man had a thin goatee around his lower face; not Gawain’s cup of tea, but he could understand how one would be attracted to the look. On this man, it made his face look gaunt, his chin too long.
Gawain had the uncomfortable feeling that he should know this man’s name. He was sure someone had mentioned it earlier. Or had that been a woman? It was so hard to remember these things, most of the time.
The man cleared his throat, and Gawain realized he had been staring, silently, for quite some time. Crap.
“Gawain?” The man asked sharply. Gawain nodded and swallowed, clearing his throat to begin the introduction he had practiced that morning. “I—”
“I am Magister Aethyn. If you would follow me, please.” The elven man turned, fine boots squeaking against the smooth floor. He began to walk out, pausing to sneer at Learn, and a short, weird-looking goblin standing near him, swaddled in a gigantic scarf. Why would Aethyn do that? Learn is a nice orc!
Gawain tried to say something, but he was having difficulty keeping up with his new Magister, who’s long, stalking strides were quickly taking the wind out of Gawain’s sails. He wasn’t out of shape, per se, but he didn’t exercise as much as he should. Just the odd late-night dance, here and there.
Magister Aethyn led him to a carefully organized study, one wall covered floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves. Upon inspection, they were neatly organized, by topic, then year. Gawain walked over to an adjacent wall, devoted to what seemed to be shelves full of components, labelled with a clear color and purpose.
The last corner had a desk, with several neatly ordered piles of documents stacked on top. Magister Aethyn made his way over to the desk and sat in the large chair behind, a comfortable-looking seat that matched the room’s subdued decor. Gawain looked around the room again. Unconsciously or not, the entire room came together to make Magister Aethyn stand out. A tad overdone, but Gawain had to admit it was well-organized.
Aethyn motioned for Gawain to sit at one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk. Neither looked as nice as the Magister’s own, but Gawain picked one and sat. He postured nervously, looking entirely like a nervous, but focused, student. Magister Aethyn raised an eyebrow, looking at the apparent change in attitude, and that was enough.
With a rush of cold clarity, the distractions fell away, and Gawain’s mind was blissfuly silent, thoughts forming themselves into neat, orderly rows. Focus that he could rarely manage by himself, made possibly by others’ perceptions.
“So,” Aethyn began. “You’ve already begun to learn the school of Satisfaction. Who from?”
Gawain paused. He didn’t practice this earlier this morning. He had his introduction, but that was — bah! It would have to do.
“My name is Gawain Frozen Dewdrop in the Morning, and my Command is Evoke. I’ve been studying Satisfaction’s magic under Sethys, at the academy in the Tamed Wilds, for the past three years. I’ve come to continue my tutelage under such esteemed Magisters as yourself, sir.” Magister Aethyn’s eyebrow quirked higher on his face, and Gawain blushed. But he couldn’t stop now; he needed to finish his introduction.
“I had spent the prior twenty years of schooling learning philosophy, math, science, language, and…” he blanked for a heart-stopping second, before rote memorization saved him. “You don’t need to go over the basics, sir. I have those covered.
“Under Sethys, I learned some of the easier spell concepts, and the basic philosophies of spell construction. I don’t have a great handle on calculating the amounts of spell components, but I’m still working on it.” He paused for a breath, noting that the Magister was oddly silent.
“I’m excited to learn from you, and I will always do my best to understand what I am being taught.”
Gawain waited for a response from his Magister, who muttered something under his breath that Gawain couldn’t quite make out. He swallowed nervously, the facade his Command had built up falling away, the instilled sense of purpose evaporating like water on a hot day. He could see the displeasure in Aethyn’s eyes, could feel a future taking form, one where he would be booted out of the academy on the day he was accepted.
He wrested control back to his thoughts, taking ahold of the metaphorical reins. Just in time, as Magister Aethyn started to speak.
“Memorization, while useful, will only get you so far. The discipline it brings will be nice, but rely too heavily on it, and you’ll be condemned to be an apprentice for all your life. You had mentioned that you learned some spells? Show me.”
Gawain took a breath and forced himself to relax as he stood and walked to the components. He reached out a hand to open one of the drawers — wait!
“May I…” he asked, looking toward Magister Aethyn. The older elf nodded, and Gawain got to assembling supplies. He gathered them and brought them to the desk, where he began to measure. Carefully, carefully… He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
“Do you have something I could write with?” He asked. Aethyn reached into his desk and handed over a piece of parchment and Gawain got back to work.
Aha! He confirmed his math, and carefully added his special touch. He collected the chosen and measured components, and slid forward the cup of water. He waved his hands airily, forced a confident smile onto his face, and dramatically whispered “freeze.”
Sparks flew as the water froze into a block, then shimmered around the desk. Magister Aethyn looked up at him, frowning.
“Why the sparks?” He asked.
“Master Sethys always taught me that it was possible to sprinkle in a little bit of flair like that,” Gawain stuttered. “He said that the additional focus the effects brought with them were well worth the inefficiencies in component calculations.”
Magister Aethyn picked up a few of the components, muttered a few words, and waved his hand imperiously, and the ice in the cup instantly melted. He glanced at Gawain’s calculations and rebuilt the spell components, including Gawain’s special touch. With a wave of his hand, he performed the same spell that Gawain had; with none of the sparkles. Gawain’s haw nearly dropped. That… shouldn’t be how it worked. He had been so careful.
Magister Aethyn turned to him, looking as severe as Gawain had ever seen an elf. He spoke slowly. “Your teacher, I am sorry to say, seems to have very little understanding of how Satisfaction’s school actually works. I will make allowances for misunderstandings, but I require discipline. You must be willing to accept that what you know is incorrect.
“The amount of your components matter far less than the components you choose. The true focal point is your mind, and how it interprets outside stimuli. You must focus your mind, your attention, and then you will the effects you will create into being. Focus less on the calculations, more on your own thoughts. Do you understand me?”
Gawain nodded, mouth dry. He had so badly misunderstood Satisfaction’s school. Magister Aethyn handed him some books and told him to “correct his understanding,” then dismissed him for the day.
With nothing else to do, Gawain headed to the library. He found himself a relatively comfortable corner, and forced himself to look studious, pulling out a pair of glasses to help. The glass in them did nothing for his vision, but the perception other people had of him did. He felt that familiar clarity descend, and he plowed through the book, flipping page after page, quicker than he could ever accomplish on his own.
When he next looked up, it was dark out. He blinked, and gently placed the book down. He wanted to test something, before he forgot.
He looked around, searching for components that would work. Aha! He reached into his pocket, pulling out several small coins; a parting gift he had received from his sister just before he had made his way out from the Tamed Wilds.
An exchange. To test a theory, dip his toe in the waters, see if he could work with Satisfaction’s school the way Aethyn did. But what to swap…
That bard, from way back when. An odd thing to recall, but that was how Gawain’s memory worked. The man had a hairpiece, an odd, ornate bit of silver jewelry. Gawain took a deep breath, looking to all the world like a professional. Like someone who had done this hundreds of times, and felt comfortable with it. His Command triggered, and he moved the coins from right to left, breathing out, not saying a word so much as he was vocalizing a feeling. As the coins shifted from hand to hand, he felt it change.
In his left hand, he held the silver barrette that that attractive man had worn. It worked! Gawain jumped up and down, giddy. There was no way he would get kicked out of the Forum now! He truly did belong here.
He sprinted out of the library to tell Magister Aethyn, then turned when he realized that he forgot to bring the book with him.
