The Archmage: Chapter Twelve (Patreon)

With the meetings finished, Osheen and I spent a few days drafting our lesson plans for our classes. 

I had two main classes I’d be teaching this year, novice witchcraft and novice enchanting, with two periods for each. 

What were the basic skills needed for a witch? What about an enchanter? I wanted to give them each skills that would be broad enough to apply in multiple fields, especially since I’d personally seen just how effective the blending of disciplines could be, like with using potions to empower spells… 

Once I had my list, I headed into town to visit Mabel, the blind plant sorcerer who had sold spell bottles for me illegally. 

“Hello, Mabel!” I called out to her as I entered. I wasn’t sure how, but she always had an uncanny ability to know when people were entering or leaving her shop, and she’d already raised a hand to wave to me before I’d even opened the door.

“Hello dear,” she said. “Here to do more crime?” 

I shot her a look, then realized I wasn’t sure if she understood what I was doing, and just gave a flat ‘no’. 

“How can I help you?” 

“I need to buy components,” I told her. “A lot of components…” 

Before I was ready, the school was flooded with students, and I was preparing to host my first class. First year classes were a daily affair, save for weekends, so for the first time in years, I didn’t have to get up absurdly early, I was just able to get up around six. 

That gave me time to make a cup of tea for Osheen and me, as well as quickly fry an egg for us, before it was, at last, time for my first class. 

I was incredibly nervous as I headed down the hallway to my class, and actually wrapped myself in the veil of the assassin’s cloak. I slipped into the classroom, which I’d been assigned at random, and examined the students. Some of them were here early, and much like all of my own early classes, the class was largely dominated by nobles. 

But… it wasn’t as strong of a slant as it had been in my own first year. I wasn’t sure why – if I was being jaded, I’d think that maybe they were simply accepting more people to beef up the military, but I wasn’t actually sure. 

As the bell came closer to ringing, more students trickled in, both noble and commoner. What struck me the most, however, was just how… Young… they looked. I was only a few years older than them, so it wasn’t purely age. There were multiple elements involved in it: experience, excitement, and something else I couldn’t put my finger on.

When the bell finally rang, there were almost thirty people in the novice witchcraft course. I felt my nerves twist. I wasn’t so bad that I’d get nervous just sitting in the room, but I couldn’t lie: with all of them planning to learn from me, the stress had skyrocketed, and I felt like I had to 

By the time students started muttering to themselves, I sighed and dropped my veil. I needed to do my job, if for no other reason than to help the kids out. 

“Welcome, class!” I told them with more confidence than I felt. 

Several people let out screams, gasps, and sharp inhalations. 

“What?” I asked.

One of the students, a girl with earth-colored hair and eyes, raised her hand tentatively, and I pointed to her. 

“Well, you just appeared out of nowhere, professor,” she said. “Did… Did you teleport?” 

My eyes widened as I realized how accidentally showy my entrance had been. I’d have to ensure not to repeat this with future classes. 

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “While portals are possible, and teleportation is as well, it’s a powerful bit of Druidic magic, linked to their own progression of power. All I did was watch the class while invisible, and –”

“Impossible…” came the lazy drawl of one of the clearly noble students. He was wearing a suit that was lined with gold thread, and loads of gaudy gold jewelry. 

I raised an eyebrow at that, and pointed to him. 

“Why?” 

“My familiar lets me peer through veils of light,” he said. “I would have…” 

He trailed off as I activated the spell again, and clearly vanished from sight. He frowned, and I re-appeared. 

“Familiar powers are good,” I said. I waved my hand and Oracle appeared on my shoulder, studying the class. “I couldn’t have gotten as far in magic as I did without my familiar, for example. But it’s unwise to look at familiars as a universal, perfect truth. My own familiar enhances my sight, but I’ve run into things that can block it or hide from it, especially when I was a beginner.” 

I was tempted to add ‘like you’ at the end, but I thought that may be too much. 

The noble rolled his eyes and commented something to a friend who was next to him. I ignored it, and wrote my name on the board. 

“My name is Evander Tailor. You can call me Tailor, Professor Tailor, Evan, Professor Evan, Evander, whatever suits you.” 

I wrote the words Introductory Witchcraft in bold. 

“Now, this class is introductory,” I said. “If you think you don’t need it, you’re welcome to leave.” 

I glanced over the assembled students, then raised a hand. 

“I’m quite serious. If you think you can already do everything this course will teach you, don’t bother to show up. If you’re uncomfortable being around so many people, skip it, and come to my office hours, and I’ll be happy to work with you one on one. None of you will be punished for leaving now, and as long as you can pass the tests and final, it doesn’t matter if you never show up for anything.”

Several students stood and left the room. Almost all of them were clearly nobility, but I did notice one small but broad girl who wore the overalls of a farmer leaving as well. 

I hoped she’d make it to my office hours.

“Well, with that out of the way,” I said, walking down the line to start passing out syllabi. “Let’s take a look at what we’re going to be doing this semester.” 

Shortly after I finished, a hand was up. I was surprised to see that it came from a noble, one of the few who hadn’t decided to skip my lecture.

“Sorry professor,” he said. “But why are we spending the first entire month on languages and…” 

He squinted at the paper. 

“Mage basics?” 

“Because the book for introduction to magecraft is terrible,” I said. “I would know, I read it through, cover to cover, in my first year. Tell me, what is a spell language? No shame in admitting you don’t know, but if you think you do, raise your hand.” 

The noble who’d questioned me raised his hand tentatively. 

“I think,” he said, sounding unsure, “that it’s a dead language.” 

“True enough,” I said. “But why? Why do we use dead languages? Why not cast with living ones? Why with the runes and secrecy and such?” 

Nobody had an answer to that, and I nodded.

“Structure. Current languages can, technically, work.” 

To demonstrate, I wrote the word ‘light’ on the board, then drew the lines that would allow me to channel aura into the spell. A moment later, the runes – or rather, letters – glowed softly. 

“Then why don’t we just cast with normal words? Seems like it’s stupid to use dead language.” 

That comment came from a muscular, tanned girl who probably would have looked more at home in a sorcery class than in mine. 

“Because modern language changes. What does this word mean?”

“Light?” she responded, though she was very clearly aware that the question was a trap. 

“Sure,” I said, nodding. “Then why didn’t the blackboard float away? I made it light, didn’t I?” 

She closed her mouth, and I smiled. 

“Lines shape,” I said. “They give directions for the aura to flow, they give limits – or remove limits – on aura flow. They bind everything within one area to a single purpose. Runes? They don’t. They’re about putting what you want as clearly as you can. That’s why we use dead languages. We have to describe the effect of magic, and if you can do that, then you’ll not see too many spells fail.” 

This wasn’t something I’d been taught. It was something I’d picked up on, as I’d learned from Tara about scrying, as I’d read through spells, seen magic of more and more types, and grown my overall mastery of magic. 

“Dead languages don’t have as muddled meanings,” I said. “Or, well. I’m sure they did, once upon a time, and an archeologist may argue endlessly when translating. But at the end of the day, unlike a living language, where different phrases might change, dead languages don’t. They remain static, allowing my spells to work just as surely for you, even if you don’t know them.” 

“Why?” one of the students asked. 

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think it may have something to do with humanity’s collective will – Medb implied something like that existed, I think. But truthfully, I don’t know, and I don’t think anyone knows for sure, save maybe the ancient beings like Medb, Throne Demons, and archangels.” 

The class sat there in stunned silence, and I coughed, feeling the awkwardness rolling back in. It had abated slightly when I’d gotten on a roll, talking about magic, but now it was back in full force. 

“Does that answer your question about languages and what magic is?”

The class nodded, and I was struck by the fact they looked like a bunch of chickens, bobbing their head up and down, and had to resist the urge to laugh. 

“Now, what specialization do each of you have?” I asked the class, picking up a pen and paper. “Let’s go one by one, introduce ourselves, and your specialization.” 

I held up a hand when I saw their faces. 

“I know it’s terrible,” I said. “I hate it too. But I need the information.”

I tried for a joke, to lighten the mood. 

“At least it isn’t a fun fact about yourself…”

That got a few pity chuckles, and the noble who’d questioned me about mage basics stood up. 

“Donovan Heenling,” he said. “Wards.” 

“Alyssa Breech,” came the voice of the muscular girl in the back of the class. “Potions.” 

“Willow Brown,” the small girl with brown hair and eyes said. “Enchanting.” 

So on and so forth, the class gave their names and specialty, and I wrote them all down dutifully. I put a star next to the names of those who were commoners – one of my projects would need to involve them. 

I might add Donovan in too. I’d have to ask – I was biased against nobles, but that didn’t inherently mean all of them were awful. Just that they accepted a system that propped them up, and that they’d been raised in since birth to believe in. 

“Alright, thank you all!” I said, after they finished. “I’ve already said my name, but I’ll repeat it. I’m Evander Tailor. Enchanter, Diviner, and Abjurer. Now, let’s learn some languages.”

I started putting a list of books I knew were good on the board. I’d made sure every one of those books was able to be found in our library for free, which had limited me, so I wound up with only four titles. 

To my surprise, when I turned back around, the students were actually leaning forwards and writing down the book names. I had to smile. 

Maybe this teaching thing wouldn’t be quite so bad after all.