Guy the Wise 4: Quiet Life (Patreon)

Guyard counted out a select amount of coins. It was hard to count with this bag over his head. Eventually he gave up and tossed a fistful at Aaron as he laid there, broken. 

“Use those to pay for a resupply,” he said. “If it's not enough, well... make do.” He kneeled down. “From now on, I'm going to swing by every week for 10% on what you've made. If you even think about trying to short me, I’m gonna shave inches off you,” he threatened. 

“Who... are you?” Aaron groaned. 

“Lucky Boy,” Guyard answered, standing. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

At that, Guyard turned and left. Now… the next few days would be rather simple. It was time for some peace and quiet to contend with his Aether, alongside some… extracurricular activities.

***

The next day, Guyard was able to fully appreciate the lecture that Lady Tanya provided in relative silence. Aaron sat behind him, too busy wallowing in misery from the injuries he’d been granted to harass. While an Upper Ward student might be able to take some concoction or be healed by a mage, those of the Lower Ward received no such luxury. Aaron might have paid for it with his own money, but… well. He’d been robbed. Guyard didn’t have so much as a black eye from yesterday’s class, but Aaron would take some time to heal.

Those were the consequences of a real fight. Guyard didn’t have any illusions, of course—this reprieve would be a temporary one. Soon enough, people would notice that Guyard was walking with his head held high and do something to suppress him. He needed a more permanent solution to this problem at the university, elsewise he’d never get anything done.

Tanya gave her lecture without interruption. Guyard, having been born in the distant provinces, didn’t have an exceptional knowledge of the history of the empire. Ordinarily he’d have been like the other children, eager to get out there and get some fighting done. Guyard, however, enjoyed learning, and the influence from Luca’s impatient mind hadn’t nullified that.

The training hall was just as uneventful. Guyard spent all of his time striking the training pell, strengthening his body so that his Aether might be tamed. When they were dismissed for the day, he went to the administrative desk.

“I’d like to register for some extra classes,” Guyard said after providing his identity.

The tight-lipped secretary looked up at him in annoyance. “Approval can take up to a week.”

Guyard nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Very well. Which classes are you interested in?” She retrieved a magic pen and paper.

“Wyvern riding, Aether magic, and the blunt weapon course,” he outlined quickly.

The secretary looked at him suspiciously. “Wyvern riding and Aether magic are among the most prestigious courses in the Lower Ward, with high rejection rates,” she said derisively, a hidden implication in her words.

“And?” Guyard held his gaze.

The secretary shook her head, and then wrote down his request. After slipping the paper in a box, she said, “You can go now.” She looked away from him as if he wasn’t even there.

Guyard drummed on the desk and walked away. His mood couldn’t be spoiled by these people anymore. With Luca’s mind and his own merged, it felt like his once-bleak horizon had become something incredibly promising. And with Aaron’s money in his pocket, it was already a reality. Now… it was time to plump the depths of Aether.

***

Luca had spent a decent amount of his life considering how to avoid being caught by the cops. He had worked in several of the old-school businesses of the mafia: drug trafficking, loan sharking, et cetera. Considering he was dealing with the first of them, there was a rather simple principle that needed to be kept in mind. In any business that dealt in physical goods—and drug trafficking was no exception—there had to be a supply chain of sorts. The drugs had to come from somewhere. It would eventually land in Aaron’s hands, who’d either buy the package outright or pay a percentage of what he sold back to the provider.

Frankly, Guyard didn’t have the muscle to collect the 10% take from Aaron. He’d only won that fight because he ambushed him and fought dirty—the good old lock-in-a-sock technique, all too common in prison. Now that Aaron was prepared, he didn’t expect to have much chance—especially not if the people providing the drugs caught wind of the robbery and reinforced him with extra muscle.

What Guyard did have was a deep understanding of drug dealers got caught. He knew that the police would watch low-level drug dealers for hours, waiting to see where they picked up their resupply. After that, they would watch the supply, tracing everything from the leaf of the tree to its roots. It gave them an intimate understanding of how the drug networks spread throughout the city, enabling them to do substantial busts and crackdown on the real players.

Ordinarily, Luca wouldn’t have enough patience to sit and watch someone for hours waiting for them to resupply. With the introduction of Guyard’s mind, however, and the power of Aether, he had more than enough will and reason. That was because of how Aether fundamentally worked.

As Guyard sat there in the middle of the courtyard, he meditated, tempering his Aether. At the same time, he was also doing the boring work—watching Aaron’s dormitory. It wouldn’t take an excessive amount of attention to notice him leaving, and considering Guyard was a student here too with a very plausible excuse, he didn’t expect to be noticed.

As Guyard sat there, old memories of foundational training came back to him. Not from those here—from his father.

***

After days and days of insisting that Guyard’s father teach him about Aether, Armand had cleared out the main hall of their humble home and demanded complete silence. He had intended to impart the seriousness of the lesson. He’d succeeded on that front. Guyard hadn’t before seen such a stern demeanor on his father ever before. He always recalled him being gentle and accommodating.

“There are three fundamental techniques that you must understand about Aether,” Armand had said.

Armand looked a lot like Guyard, though his father’s elven features were even more pronounced as his elven blood was stronger. He had thinner, longer limbs, more delicate features, and brighter golden eyes. All the same, he was a warrior, preferring to use a spear and a bow.

“Though you may learn more sophisticated and varied methods, the fact remains that there are three that will be largely consistent,” Armand continued. “The first are Aetheric Convergence techniques. These are quite rudimentary, and involve drawing in the ambient Aether to your body. While a relatively simple process, it can be quite dangerous to exceed the capacity your body can handle.”

Guyard recalled sitting on the floor of his father’s humble hall, listening intently despite not understanding some of the words used. His father walked around as he explained.

“Once the Aether is in the body, it cannot simply be used as is,” Armand cautioned. “Aether is not a singular force. There are many different varieties, each encompassing the many elements of this world. Just as a smith must remove imperfections from metal, you must temper the Aether that you’ve converged within to harness the element that you need. Untamed Aether will do more harm to you than good—these energies will clash, weakening and even damaging you. Hence, there are Aetheric Tempering techniques. These burn away the other elements within the body, allowing you to possess a pure, specialized Aether.”

Guyard recalled raising his hand.

Armand pursed his lips. “Yes?”

“What Aether do you use, dad?”

Armand straightened his back. “I once used Ignetic Aether—that of fire—as my father before me. However, I struggled with it. In the end, I switched late in life to use Zephyric Aether, harnessing the power of wind as my mother did. While I was more talented using this, I had clung to my old ways for too long, and couldn’t advance as far as you might in this life. Your Aetheric vessel is most pliable in youth.”

“And what’s the third technique, dad?” Guyard recalled asking eagerly.

“Aetheric Channeling techniques. These are the methods by which Aether becomes power,” Armand described, then snapped his finger to cause a burst of wind to erupt free. “While Aether itself strengthens the body simply by being present, its true power can be manifested most notably through Aetheric Channeling techniques.”

As any young boy might have been, Guyard was most interested in the Channeling techniques, but he held his tongue dutifully for his father’s explanation.

“Most methods, like my father’s, contain all three techniques in one,” Armand explained. “Then, it’s called an Aetheric Style. Nevertheless, there is nothing preventing mixing and matching. As a matter of fact, it’s what I ended up doing.” Armand walked up and kneeled before him. “I wish I could give you deeper insight, little man, but I’m no great Aetheric master. I faltered at the level of a Lord, stagnating there. While I may be able to preside over the small village here, in the grand scheme of things, I’m not very powerful.”

“A Lord?” Guyard had asked.

“The noble ranks of the empire are more than simply titles. They represent levels of achievement. When you begin on the journey, you are nothing more than a humble Aetheric aspirant. I broke past the bottlenecks to become a Knight, and then eventually a Lord, but I could climb no further without jeopardizing my life. I needed to be here—for you, for your mother, for my family. And so I settled down, content.”

Guyard processed that silently. “Do you regret it?”

Armand ruffled his hair. “Not in the slightest, boy. The Aetheric path could be likened to a slowly steepening mountain. At the beginning, it is challenging, yet feasible. As you proceed further, the air becomes thinner, the footholds less sure, and the road less clear. I felt that I would slip and fall to my death if I did not stop. After all, I possessed no special bloodline that might guide my feet, nor any guidance from my ancestors that might illuminate a secret path up this mountain. I accepted the title of Lord, and was granted my father’s old holdfast in confirmation. One day, you may choose to do the same.”

“I’m going to be a great Aetheric master,” Guyard had promised all those years ago.

“Perhaps so, little man,” Armand had smiled. “And if you do not… I would think no less of you for it. Rather, it takes a very strong force of will to admit to one’s place in life. The chance to master Aether alone is a privilege few alive acquire. What need is there to climb the mountain towering overhead when the land at its base is just as serviceable, and the air less thin? The most important thing is fulfillment.”

Guyard looked up at his father. “Wouldn’t Aether be fulfilling?”

Armand rubbed his head, then rose to his feet. “Come. Your mother was cooking frog stew, last I checked.”

***

As Guyard reminisced on those old memories with his father, he received some small revelation of sorts. The Aether within him was chaotic and untamed because he had changed so fundamentally as to be incompatible with the element that he was dealing with. Before, Guyard had been following in his father’s footsteps in using an Aetheric Style that used Zephyric Aether. It had been working tolerably, but perhaps Luca had changed that.

The primary issue with that theory was that Guyard didn’t know any other Aetheric Styles he might use. While the Imperial University had a large compendium of Aetheric Styles, they were only accessible to Upper Ward students or Lower Ward students who achieved exceptional merit. Even if he did find one, he didn’t yet know which element of Aether he might be most compatible with. And provided all of those problems were solved, he would be forced to expunge all of the Zephyric Aether he had painstakingly tempered. Guyard’s father had stagnated at the rank of Lord due to just such a conundrum.

Still… if anything was going to solve that problem, it was going to be coin. Thus, Guyard kept his attention on Aaron’s home, wondering when he would leave.

<Previous      -Table of Contents-     Next>