ImmovableMage
patreon
052 Calling Home
🕑 Added 2022-06-08 10:53:46 +0000 UTC– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 215, Season of the Rising Moon, Day 54 –
Terry sat down on the earth in the training grounds and frowned while glancing over his notebook.
I still can’t believe that you have lost the aspected needle.
It’s your marbles all over again!
Unbelievable!
“All over again! Unbelievable!” Terry mocked his own thoughts by repeating them in a funny voice. “Shut up.”
Taking the recorded count of mana containers as a rough baseline and guesstimating how much mana you had put into the throwing needle before you started counting…
This will take FOREVER all over again!
“Don’t exaggerate.” Terry mumbled to himself. “It’s a nuisance, not a catastrophe.”
On the first evening after he had arrived in the Libra Outpost, he had wanted to investigate his aspected throwing needle and what was going on with his storage bracelets.
Unfortunately, the needle was nowhere to be found.
It’s possible that you did not activate the sheath belt correctly. Dare I say probable even!
“Nothing I can do about it now.” Terry smiled wryly. “Except vent my frustration.” He stood up.
The training grounds were nearly deserted. According to his aunt, Tiv had fewer Guardians than Arcana to begin with, and few people volunteered to be stationed in the outpost closest to the Wasteborder.
The stronger Guardians generally had their hands full with mission work outside the outposts, while the trainees usually preferred to practice in less dangerous areas.
The aspiring Guardians that picked an outpost like the one in Libra City mostly did so because they were hoping to be instructed by a specific Guardian.
Sigille had told Terry that the outposts had agreed on a seasonal rotation. The Libra Outpost took the season of the Setting Moon. During this time, Sigille and some other stronger representatives would return to the outpost.
The representative instructors would not take any regular mission work. They would only respond to emergencies. This way, trainees could get the chance to learn and be instructed at the frontline while being protected by powerful Guardians.
Aside from the confrontational ministerial representative and the channeler woman from Guardian management, Terry had only interacted with a single local Guardian: Dhruv.
Sigille had told him that there were many good people in Tiv, but that there were only a few whom you could trust with anything. If there was any trouble while Sigille and Matteo were out, then Terry was supposed to go to Dhruv.
Dhruv was a dwarf with grey, disheveled hair and an intimidating presence similar to Sigille. In contrast to Terry’s aunt, however, Dhruv was very taciturn and had a perpetually haunted look in his eyes. He was one of Sigille’s old companions from before she had gone to the Free Factions Union.
Dhruv’s presence was one reason why Sigille had chosen to take Matteo to Libra City after her husband had died in the Union. Not only was Dhruv one of her oldest friends and a member of their whanau, Dhruv also understood what it meant to lose your life’s chosen to a violent death.
Terry had kept repeating Sigille’s muttered words in his head.
‘At least I have a specific person to hunt while poor Dhruv only has the Wastes.’
Terry had felt the urge to ask what had happened to her husband, but in the end, he could not bring himself to actually do it.
He exhaled sharply and sprinted forward. Near the end of the track, he jumped and kicked out while simultaneously imprinting the center pearl in his left bracer.
Terry flexed his arm to resist the centripetal force and, after rotating left in a half-circle, he rapidly deactivated the imprint and sprinted in the opposite direction.
This time, he dashed up to the middle of the track. Then, he raised both arms and transfixed the mid-wrist pearls.
Terry swung around the rotational axis and up into the air. He timed the deactivation of the imprints so that he would fly feet-first and back towards where he had come from.
Terry burst his mana and transfixed the extension layer in his boots with as little mana as possible. He used the transfixed layer for an air jump to change direction again.
Terry spun around so that his shoulder was pointing towards the ground. He transfixed the center pearls in both of his bracelets. He knew this position from bodyweight training exercises. It was called the Human Flag.
Terry gathered momentum and started swinging around the transfixed rotational axis. He gritted his teeth at the straining distribution of his weight.
Terry exhaled sharply and then switched imprints – from the center pearls to the mid-wrist pearls – which caused him to drop slightly and caused the rotation circle to become wider.
Next, he deactivated the imprint on the bracer that was closer to the ground and used his legs to rotate around the spherical pearl in various ways.
Ugh…
Terry slowed down to appease his stomach. He deactivated the imprint and allowed himself to stand on solid ground again.
I wonder what Aunt Sigille and Matteo are doing…
Terry knew they had several responsibilities to take care of, but he did not know the details. Sigille had told him that requesting a visual with Arcana was always a pain because, by law, they were required to have an imperial censor present.
He turned his head when he noticed a familiar mana signature approaching the training grounds.
“It’s time Terry,” shouted Sigille. “The mandated eavesdropper has finally deigned to grace us with his presence.” She snickered. “They always get so grouchy when someone wants them to step a foot near the Wastes.”
“Remember what I told you before?” asked Sigille.
Terry nodded. “No reference to the dungeon, mana use, or magic items. Nothing about the situation in Tiv nor any talk about my upbringing.”
“Good. If you forget that during the visual, then I’ll have to hold your mouth shut.” Sigille pushed out her lower lip and played the belly drum. “The censors always look equal parts judgy and offended whenever I do that.”
***
“Greetings, Vhida,” said Sigille. “How does it look?”
“Hey, Lady Sigille.” The elven woman looked up from her fiddling with a large device in the back of the room. “As always, Arcana’s barrier is a troublesome interference.”
“Little Vhida, I told you not to call me lady.” Sigille pretended to sulk. “It makes my skin itchy.”
Vhida chuckled. “I could switch back to Instructor Sigille for old time’s sake if that would make you feel better.”
“Much better, but not quite appropriate, since your last instruction was several decades ago.” Sigille raised her eyebrows. “Or are you volunteering for more advanced classes?”
“Uhh, I can suddenly feel the pang of age in my bones.” Vhida put her hands on her hip and acted with a pained expression. “I really don’t believe I should.”
Vhida pointedly looked away from Sigille, and her eyes wandered to Terry. “That’s your nephew?”
“Nice attempt at deflection.” Sigille grinned.
“Whatever do you mean, Instructor Sigille?” Vhida feigned ignorance and smiled sheepishly.
“Greetings, Lady Vhida. My name is Terry.”
“Ouch.” Vhida grabbed her heart with yet another pained grimace. “Avenging your aunt?”
Sigille chortled.
Crap. What did I do?
“My, he has an honest face, doesn’t he?” exclaimed Vhida. “We’re just kidding around. Sigille was one of my first instructors when I was a wee little Guardian. Greetings, Terry.”
Vhida looked back at Sigille. “I see what you meant with the itchy skin.”
“Well done, Terry,” praised Sigille. “Here, I have been struggling for many cycles with these informal instructions and you manage to get the lesson across with a single greeting. With that kind of talent, I need to introduce you to a few more people.”
The sound of a man loudly clearing his throat resounded through the air. A human with a sullen expression stepped into the room. “Can we start?”
“Oh, did they send you again?” Sigille replied cheerfully. “Ghinn, was it your turn already?”
The man grunted in response. He radiated discontent.
“One could get the impression that you don’t enjoy being here.” Sigille puckered her lips. “Here I thought the censors were always ready to follow where duty may lead them.”
Ghinn’s expression darkened even further. “Is it just me, or did the frequency of your little exchanges with foreign powers increase noticeably this year?”
“You make it sound as if I was organizing an international conference.” Sigille furrowed her brow with sulking lips. However, her display of mock-offense was quickly replaced with a snicker. “I just want to chat with my baby sister.”
Ghinn grumbled: “Oh, that makes me feel much better about having to come all the way out here.” His voice oozed with sarcasm. “It is so nice to know that my time is valued so highly and invested for such important purposes.”
“Not my fault that an imperial censor has to be involved in this.” Sigille scratched her nose with her pinky. “I still remember times when I could talk to my sister in private.”
She grinned challengingly. “Why don’t you go complain to the Assembly? I believe they were the ones that changed that. I promise I had nothing to do with it.”
Ghinn harrumphed and walked to a wall. He leaned on it with crossed arms.
“Alright, that should do it,” exclaimed Vhida.
Terry’s heart sped up. Sigille stepped next to him to face the mana-crafted device.
“Just need to wait for the other side to be— Oh, they’re already waiting.” Vhida injected mana, and the transparent sheet of glass in front of Terry lit up with light-aspected mana.
The mana flickered, and an image came into view.
“““TERRY!””” “Oh, thank mana.” “Haah…”
Terry felt a lump in his throat. His whole body suddenly seemed lighter. His eyes teared up.
“Huh,” uttered Vhida quietly. “Never seen that many people crammed into that screen before.”
Lori and Jorg squeezed together in the front with Bjorln and Isille right behind and the last row made up of Samuel and Brynn.
Terry was tongue-tied and let his eyes wander over everyone. They all seemed so tired. He felt a pang of guilt without knowing why.
“I’m sowwy, Terry!” Jorg was a sobbing mess.
Terry was taken aback by Jorg’s pale skin. It seemed as if the dwarf had spent most of the recent days indoors, which was not at all like Jorg.
“I thought you were…” Lori meekly muttered while bawling her eyes out. “I thought I had caus—” She inhaled deeply between sobs. “Please forgive…” She timidly lowered her gaze.
Terry had never seen his siblings like this before.
“Have I picked up the correct nephew, Little Silly?” Sigille asked with warm eyes.
“Thank you, Big Sm—” The teary-eyed Isille stopped herself. “Thank you, Sigille. From all my heart.”
“Little Silly, I have crossed a long distance to pick him up so that you could stop crying, you know.” Sigille rebuked, but her eyes were smiling. “It’s alright now.”
“You have my gratitude, too, Big Smelly!” interjected Bjorln with glistening eyes and a grin.
“Heh, I see the little slacker is as cheeky as ever.” Sigille narrowed her eyes at Bjorln.
“If my beloved Isille is too overwhelmed with gratitude, so that her decency prevents her from returning the proper insult, then I feel it is my duty as her life partner to follow through in her stead.” Bjorln smirked. He added in a sincere voice: “Thank you, Sigille.”
“Wh-what happened, Terry?” asked Jorg.
“Jorg, remember what we told you before,” reminded Isille before she turned to Terry. “I’m so glad you’re alright, Whaka Terry.”
Then, everyone piled up their own similar sentiments.
“Is everyone okay?” asked Terry. “The others too?”
Lori and Jorg nodded.
“You were the only one missing,” said Isille. “You really terrified us.”
Terry experienced a strange mixture of guilt and happiness. Guilty that he had worried them. Happy that they worried – and cared – for him.
“Siling, Tiana, and Elena asked me to give their regards,” said Lori. “Although, Siling added you better have a good explanation or she will let loose one of her stinkers on you.”
“Miguel and Gellath said the same,” said Jorg. “Well, not the stinker part. Also… Well, Calam has asked me to tell you that he’s sorry. He is working on his problem and hopes that you can give him another chance when…”
Jorg paused and searched the gaze of his ma. “When can Terry…?” He was not sure how much he was allowed to say.
Isille looked pleadingly at her elder sister. “Will it be possible for Terry to return to Arcana?”
“Yes,” said Sigille. But she shook her head right afterwards. “However, I’ll have to escort him myself and it will take time. I wanted to visit anyway, but I still have some things to take care of. I think I have told you about Little Emily before.”
“That elven girl from the dungeon scavengers?”
“Yes. Next cycle, she’ll turn old enough to start training as a Guardian. Matteo and I have promised her and her father that we would escort the girl to the outpost. I also want to make sure that she is allowed to walk her own path without...”
Sigille clicked her tongue. “Well, without the usual interference for someone with her talents. That girl does not belong in the army. She would get eaten in the Guild. That leaves little freedom unless someone shields her from the interference.”
Sigille calmly looked into Isille’s eyes. “Our departure can be arranged after the Setting Moon in the next cycle.”
“B-but…” Lori looked crestfallen.
Jorg clenched his teeth.
“More than a year…” Isille muttered.
“Could we pick him up at the border instead?” asked Bjorln when he sensed the change in atmosphere.
“You could try, but my estimate is that this won’t be any faster.” Sigille shook her head. “Nothing I can do there. In Tiv, you have a different standing than Matteo or I. Heck, by now, even Terry might have more official influence than any of you. Your presence would definitely not help, and it might very well do the opposite.”
Brynn frowned and nodded.
Sigille coughed lightly. “Also, I thought about instructing Terry for a bit. He has demonstrated a commendable attitude toward diligent self-improvement. I am curious how far he can take it.”
The expressions of Isille and Bjorln froze.
Bjorln caught Terry’s gaze. “Good luck, Whaka Terry. I still remember the times when Big Smelly came to train us and, well…” He talked with a thousand-yard stare. “Good luck.”
“Uhm, Big Sis, could you…” Isille searched for words. “Make sure that you return my son, uhm… You know, healthy and sound?”
“Yeah, things get iffy when one whaka pummels another into unconsciousness,” quipped Bjorln.
“Stop exaggerating,” grumbled Sigille. “He’ll do fine.” She lightly slapped Terry’s back.
Ouch.
The relieved family exchanged more small-talk and general pleasantries. Despite the joyful reunion at a distance, it was a frustrating experience – particularly for Lori, Jorg, and Terry.
Due to the restrictions on talking about magic and the like, they could not talk about the things that they really wanted to talk about. They could not share the stories of their recent days, nor could they discuss what had happened with Terry.
“…and also, thank you, everyone! If not for…” Terry sighed at having to search for a way to express himself without violating any of the restrictions. “Your advice, your instructions, your gifts… I would have starved, or died in a different way. I would have absolutely lost my mind…”
About that last one… You sure that did not happen? You and I remember that very differently then.
Terry thought over his dungeon experience and clenched his fists. He wanted so much to talk it over with his family, but alas, it was verboten.
Stupid Tiv and its stupid resentment against Arcana and its stupid—
“Do you understand what happened, Whaka Terry?” asked Samuel. “‘Yes’ or ‘no’ should be fine, even for this conversation.”
Terry’s stomach felt queasy when looking at Samuel’s face. The burn scars were now paired with intensely dark circles under Samuel’s eyes. He also seemed much thinner than when Terry had last seen him.
“No,” said Terry. “I wish I did.”
Samuel nodded with a grave expression.
Brynn kissed Samuel softly on the cheek. He leaned his head on her shoulder and sighed.
“Did you keep up your craft?” asked Brynn. “You know what I mean.” She winked. “‘Yes’ or ‘no’ is fine, remember?”
“Yes, but…” Terry rephrased his words until they became innocuous. “I’ve run out of exercises. I am not sure how to progress. I tried… Ugh.” He grew increasingly annoyed.
How am I supposed to talk about aspecting, my scale armor idea, or crystal-based shielding…
“You’ll stay in Libra City for a while, right?” inquired Brynn. “Maybe…”
Ghinn, the imperial censor, loudly cleared his throat.
Brynn grinned mischievously. “Don’t worry about it, Whaka Terry.”
“Focus on the things that you can do before figuring out how to do more,” added Samuel.
Terry smiled at the familiar words.
“Yeah, don’t worry,” added Sigille. “I can think of a few things to fill your time.”
Uh-oh.
“Good luck, Whaka Terry,” repeated Bjorln.
***
In the evening, Terry returned his gymnastic rings back into his storage bracelets.
He retrieved a mana container and syphoned mana from it until he felt comfortable enough with the available safety buffer in a foreign environment.
With Aunt Sigille around, there probably isn’t that much danger. Then again, it’s Tiv and… Let’s just go with a reasonable compromise.
He sat down on the floor and retrieved his notebook and pen before sighing.
I still can’t believe you have lost the aspected needle. Now you have to start from scratch again before you can try all the—
Terry flipped to the next page and searched for things to try today. He underlined some of the open entries.
He retrieved a coil spring made from a mana-reactive shape-memory alloy. He extended the coil spring and then cast Immovable Object on it.
The coil spring was transfixed in the air. Terry started to slowly channel mana into it without guiding the mana to the active spell structure. He watched the coil spring closely…
But nothing happened.
Terry increased his mana throughput and channeled more mana into the coil spring. He repeated this complete cycle again and again until…
The coil spring dropped down. The spell had been disrupted.
“Hm… A pity, but was to be expected, I guess.” Terry mumbled to himself. “Wouldn’t be immovable if the alloy could still change form while the spell is active. Immovable even relative to itself. Same as with external force…”
Terry scribbled down the results.
Next, he retrieved a light-aspected mana core from one of the shining dropbears. He tilted his head and muttered: “Can’t believe I never tried that before…”
Terry attempted to cast Immovable Object on the mana core…
A pang in his casting hand told him that he may have been wise to never try that. He rubbed his hand.
“Makes sense, too. The mana prevents the spell from activating.” Terry absentmindedly squeezed air through his closed lips while thinking. “Maybe I could use that to practice overpowering mana?”
Wouldn’t it make more sense to use mana-crafted items? Closer to the likely real-world application and all…
“But then I would risk damaging the imprints.”
Use aspected items instead?
“Both are valid options.” Terry tapped the pen on the floor.
Not that you would even come close to the mana intensity for overpowering that kind of mana…
“Not yet, no.” Terry made some notes in his notebook. “Need to practice compressing mana some more. I could also practice spellwork shielding similarly…”
Afterwards, he retrieved one of the imprinted throwing needles to which he had added a simple shielding based on stacked layers of periodic mana tiles.
Terry transfixed the needle in the air. Then, he tried to guide his mana to disrupt the active imprint from the direction of the needle’s tip.
He was looking for gaps in the shielding. Unless you had access to a proper mana lock, there always had to be at least one gap or the spell imprint could not be activated. Nevertheless, this did not mean that the gap had to be easy to reach and exploit.
Terry was aware of his own advantages. His mana control was excellent. This meant that he had some wiggle room for using narrow passages that were easy for him to use, while being difficult for others to exploit.
Terry had started to view the shielding as a mana game against himself. First, he had to create a shielding that he could not pick within a specific timeframe. Then, he would practice picking the shielding until he was able to pick it within the time limit. Repeat.
Would have been more fun to play with the others though.
“Ah well…” Terry sighed. “One more year. One day after the other. One step at a time.”
He documented some ideas and results in the notebook for mana crafting.
Afterwards, Terry retrieved his fire-aspected short spear.
You’re not really considering doing that, right?
He stared at the fire-aspected tip.
Remember how much you whined when you disinfected your hands with coldfire in the dungeon? Do you believe normal fire will be more pleasant?
“You can build up resistance this way.”
Could you not?
“Miguel has to do similar exercises if he ever wants to be able to burst his mana. Tiana’s brother had to do so too. Same for Devon…”
I knew Devon was a bad influence.
Terry thought about some of the stories from Devon’s tower. In particular, about the resistance training Devon had to suffer through.
At least do that when you’re out in the training grounds. I’m not sure how Aunt Sigille would react if you burn down her outpost, but I’m not eager to find out, either.
His eyes widened. “Fair point.”
Perhaps she can also talk some sense into you when she sees it…
Terry returned the spear to the storage bracelet. He shrugged. “Back to aspecting then.”
So you can lose another needle?
Terry took out a mana container and one of his old throwing needles. He put both on the floor in front of him. He placed his hands in front of the items and channeled mana into them from a short distance.
Terry changed his seating position and scooched away on the floor in order to increase the distance until it represented a slight challenge. He made a note in his notebook to record the starting distance used today and then guided mana towards the items.
“At least I can combine it with training mana reach. So it’s not all bad…”
Stop downplaying that you have lost the aspected needle!
“Positive thinking.” Terry stuck out his tongue. “The others are alright. I’m in a good mood and you’re not going to bring me down. I can handle a lost needle. I can create another one.”
***
