Practice Lesson
"What a great morning," Sarkuhar thought, slowly sipping from his mug. The potent mixture of herbs and spices from his hometown could raise the dead from their eternal slumber, but for the old man it had the effect of mild tea. Still, he needed something to keep him awake - he had a class to teach, after all. He looked around the closed garden of the University, taking in the old architecture of the buildings surrounding the area, as he usually did every morning for the last what, nine or ten years? The teacher shook his head and took another sip. "Man, does time fly." Not far away from him, his assistant was setting up the targets for that day's aim lesson. The young kirfolk boy was doing his best handling the heavy equipment - but then again, it was just the beginning of the semester. The dark blue of the targets shimmered as the morning rays of the fake sun of the Exarhi Plane reflected off them, the deep color almost swirling in mysterious waves, cyan runes forming on their surface. Sarkuhar put his mug down on the wooden table, next to the practice dictionaries the students will be using. "Good job, Kighri. Take a seat on the grass before the class starts, I'll set up the defense arrays myself," he said, patting the assistant on his shoulder with restrained power.
By the time he was done with the setup, the first years were gathering for the common Magic Combat class. Sarkuhar took a deep breath, forcing his face to remain calm and composed, keeping a slight smile hidden from the kids. Training future battlemages as he had done for years, during his service: that was his call in life. The students gathered in a circle around the teacher, waiting patiently for him to begin. He savored their respectful silence for a moment before starting the lesson. "Good morning, students!" he yelled, making sure everyone could hear him. "What a great day to do more training, am I right? Today," he gestured towards the books on the table, "you'll learn what real magic is. Not your fancy little illusions and whatnot, not your cute prayers or your flower-blooming powers, I mean real magic." He equipped one of the crimson books, attaching it to his belt, and aimed his left fist upwards. "Real magic that will bring down your opponents. That will kill the enraged halpurgian towering in front of you. Real magic that can save you when all other options are lost."
Keeping his stance, Sarkuhar began to move his right palm, tracing a circle with his fingers; as he did, sparkles of mana formed in the air, crackling with reddish intensity. Clenching his right hand into a fist, he punched the air upwards, yelling "TERAXI!" as the knuckle reached its destination. The mana circling around his arm swelled up under the command, bubbling up in his fist and, after enough energy accumulated, the mana jutted out of his stretched arm with ferocity, catching fire (or rather becoming fire) as it left his body. The roaring flaming ball flew high for a couple of moments before it dissipated in a cloud of smoke. "That," the teachers said, resuming a normal position after shaking his arms a little, "that is what you'll be learning for pretty much the rest of the semester. Now, everyone who knows at least the basics of dictionaries, go start training with Kighri. Everyone else, gather closer and sit down, I'll go through the most important parts of dictionary usage and combat."
"So! What are dictionaries, really?" asked the teacher, waving the red book he kept on his belt earlier. The air was crackling behind him as half of the students were testing different spells. Ice spears, lightning flashes, flaming balls - they were doing their best to hit the targets from half a darhum away, most barely making their attacks fly somewhere in their intended direction. Sarkuhar payed them no attention, focusing himself on teaching the younglings in front of him. "Dictionaries, you might say, are books like this one, books that contain spells such as my earlier fire punch. For the purpose of this lesson, I'll say that you'd be only half wrong. Dictionaries can be anything at all, really. Anything that you can inscribe magical arrays unto, that is. Even this," he gestured to his wolf-shaped pendant, "could be a dictionary."
"Teacher, why do we need to use these books if we can already perform magic?" asked a girl from the middle of the student group. "Great question! This means you've paid zero attention to the General History of Magic lessons," came the man's response, getting a round of muffled laughter from the girl's peers. "I'm joking, of course, Katelyn - that was your name, right? - no need to look so hurt. These devices, my students, are the pinnacle of magical warfare. Before their invention, mages specialized in combat magic were a very important asset for the many kingdoms of the Continent. Now, everyone with at least a little bit of talent for mana can be instructed to use these books. Suddenly, battlemage units are a thing. Suddenly, one big bad wizard is not enough to scare the enemy army. Suddenly," he enunciated his words, "killing becomes easier."
He grabbed one of the leftover books from the table, a light blue tinted cover protecting its pages. "Take this other tome, for example. If I equipped it and did the same incantation, an icicle would have formed instead of a fireball. This is very important - because we can build dictionaries, we can all collectively decide to use the same incantation formulas when designing the arrays. That means that soldiers need only learn their fighting stances and what various combinations of words and movements will do. It's easier to learn that 'texari' means 'shoot something out of your fist'. Any other questions?"
"Okay, Matias. Back from the start. Take the stance, focus your internal mana in your right hand, then punch and say the incantation." The meek-looking elf tried for the twentieth time to cast the first spell. A few sparkles concentrated around his fist, but nothing else happened. The boy sighed. "Master Sarkuhar, I-I can't do it. I just... it doesn't work, it just doesn't," he mumbled frustrated. The teacher took his tome and dropped it on the grass, then moved in front of his student. "Raise your arms like I do," he instructed the kid, raising his own arms in front of him. "Okay, now move your palms from front to back. Front, back, front, back." He dropped his arms, watching the student's posture and movement. "Think like a sea, think like water. You're just making waves right now. Try to grasp the movement of your mana. It, too, moves like a sea, like water through the canals of your body." Matias closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling inside his body.
"I know elves have other ways of teaching magic. Some have offered me insightful information about how the mana flows. Problem is, you're used to how mana moves outside your body, and now I'm asking you to use the mana inside of you. Get it?" "I... I think I do," came a timid answer. "Good! Very good. Do ten sets of these movements, then try casting that spell again." After doing the sets, Matias equipped the tome again, making sure he and the book were connected and in sync. He inhaled sharply, took his stance, and punched. Sarkuhar watched, waiting for the success of his student, completely sure about his success; what he saw, however, left him speechless. The icicle was perfectly sharp and compact. And as Matias yelled "Texari!" and finished the motion, the icicle flew straighter than an arrow, piercing the target's defense and hitting the metal. Everyone stopped and turned their heads when they heard the dunnnn of the metal.
Sarkuhar stood there for a moment, looking at Matias; he snapped back to reality immediately after. Looking at the rest of the class, he gestured towards the kid and said: "Well? What are the rest of you waiting for? Back to shooting practice!" He turned for a moment at Matias, sneaking a wink, making the boy's cheeks turn pink. "That includes you too, kid. Chak chak, hurry up!"
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