"That should work."
"Hmm..."
"Don't think so?"
"It looks consistent so far, but it's the perfect attempts that oft contain the most issues. We should run some experiments first."
Y'shtola and I stood side by side in the basement of Cherub Manor. A name that I did not come up with and didn't bother asking about. Home was home, and this one was plenty comfortable.
After I escaped the tangled mess of women in our bed this morning, Y'shtola revealed herself to be the only one awake, sipping on tea and reading an unmarked book in our kitchen.
She wore my dress shirt, a remnant of my time working for Momo-nee, and little else.
After our sickly sweet greetings, we got to talking about my plans with the wine tank, and not too long after, we descended down here for her to take a look.
Y'shtola's ears rotated slightly while she thought through the tank's design. A dark smokey glass wall stretched from one side of the room to the other. The work was too delicate and precise to do with magic.
The entire cellar was cleared out for me to build a massive mold that I could pour tons of glass into. The tank was built in layers, molten glass became a mortar that sealed the layers together. The only way I could guarantee a sterile environment for the wine to age within, was with obsessive usage of Purify.
It wasn't what I had imagined in my head when thinking of a wine tank, but it would do.
"...Wow..."
Adalberta appeared next to me at some point while Y'shtola was seemingly scratching the tank with a rounded instrument in her hands. She wore a thin set of cotton blue pajamas that tightly hugged her motherly curves.
I weaved Adal's thin yet somewhat rough fingers with mine and continued to watch Y'shtola work. She was rather insecure about the state of her hands compared to even Mylla's. It took a lot of time for me to start chipping away at that insecurity and there was a long way yet to go.
We chatted about the guild, the Daemon Company and then-
"Oh, you didn't hear?"
"Not at all. Do you know how many wins he earned?"
"Mm, Mylla said it was around 700...?"
Raubahn bought the Coliseum out from under Greinfarr's father's nose. Not only that, but he did it before reaching 1000 wins. That wasn't how it went in the story.
'300 too early.'
I couldn't tell how bad this result was. Raubahn was years too early. Mylla's father still had a hold of the Gladiators' guild, but it seemed that his chances for joining the Syndicate were also scuttled by Raubahn.
"Mylla didn't know much about it, but her Papa was upset about the whole thing."
Who could've known the man's ambitious nature? Or rather, was he involved in someway with the dealings going on there? Halatali, Mumuepo, the Voidkin they kept locked away... Were they related?
I traced the joints of Adal's fingers lightly. It was amazing that Cure did so little while simultaneously doing so much. Could I create a spell that targeted only the skin? A variant of Protect somehow?
Bad blood had formed in three ways. It could, and likely would, fester into something nasty and rotten. Those devilish potatoes in the Syndicate would look for a way to check Raubahn's power and finding enemies to face him would be part of that process.
In addition, if Raubahn came to power earlier, how many events wouldn't fire off? Ala Mhigo finally had political representation. When did Mumuepo commit the corrupt act that would have Raubahn crack down on his head? Would he still be ousted from the Thaumatuges' guild?
Fate was testing itself once more. Would Greinfarr sit still as his father lost everything? Especially now that Mylla's father was involved?
tap-scritch
Y'shtola's tools scraped noisily against the glass. Was she testing the hardness? It sounded terrible.
I couldn't begin to predict any of it. I was no super genius with an AI spiritual assistant plugged into my head. It was impossible to limit all the factors of my existence unless I lived as a slug. And even then, not even 2 days had passed before I ran into Thancred.
I was one unlucky slug.
Well, this slug would need to keep its ears open, or antennae waving, and plan for any situation. I had a direction that the story needed to progress in.
Everything else was confetti.
---
"Doesn' ye lose thar' shine?"
"Shine? What shine?"
"I know what he means, Sun Tap sparkles, the glass-"
"Nay, we should-"
"Letter for you boss!"
"Another?"
"Who's callin' em' boss?!"
"Respect the High Priest newbie or I'll gut you like an eel!"
"WHERE IS HE? SHOW ME THAT BUGGER'S FACE!"
"MERCY! IT W'AINT ME! I SWEAR IT!"
"Hold! It's fine!"
'AHHHH I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK!'
It was chaos on the floor of the Arcanists' "guild". The poor staff were pushed out of the way as the Suns of Yda inspected the new bottles, making note of their glowing violet patterns and dark smokey appearance. The reception was mixed.
"Tis it not but a shine that lights the hearts of the lost and the damned?"
"Shut yer trap."
"Every day with this guy...seriously."
I opened the letter in the middle of the storm of words and spittle. A message from Louisoix. He invited me to collaborate with Minfilia, something I was already doing, asked me how my studies with Master Matoya were faring, and began to introduce some of his findings on Eikons, or in other words, the Primals.
'Is he trying to pull me in?'
"I think it looks fine."
"I can't WAIT to hear ye gab about shite ye ain'ta know!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Can you even blow glass? Why are you talking like you're involved?"
"Of course I can!"
It wasn't a dumb choice. And I was going to be on the front lines in one way or another. The story could leave the track anywhere except for the Primal Boss Battles. If the Warrior of Light failed to slay them, then the world, and by proxy my ass, was toast.
"E's one of 'em Inquisition blokes."
"Inquisition Squire! And what makes you think I can't blow glass? My father was a smith!"
"Smiths handle glass, they don't produce it."
"So you haven't blown glass yourself?"
"See? Whelp's a blow. Bugger off, 'et 'e real men talk."
I was in the process of designing a crown that could dull Aetheric influences in an area around me, making for a form of mind protection, but the formula was still in the early stages and I didn't dare to test it by myself.
"Can you chin wagglers quit with the bragging?"
"Bottler, shut up."
"I have a name!"
"Cease speaking, bottler."
I tapped my chin and thought it over. If I aligned too closely with Master Louisoix, he would be unpredictable. I was worried about one thing in the end. Something that Louisoix did to craft the legend of the Warriors of Light. An act that seemed to hit people indiscriminately.
To save the world from Bahamut, Louisoix's magic, or perhaps something more grand, was able to warp the Warrior of Light 5 years into the future and wiped the star's memory. Whenever people thought of the brave adventurers that fought alongside them when the moon fell, all they could see in their heads were blurry blots of white light. Thus the legend took hold. When I arrived in this world, I wanted that for myself, to skip the Calamity and all its troubles, but now I wanted to fight through it, alongside those close to me.
I feared Louisoix in a way. I was scared that the bizarre magic he cast would target me as well because he deemed my survival to be critical for the star. I certainly didn't need to skip the Calamity. I needed that time and factored it into all of my plans.
I didn't know what the criteria that made him choose those adventurers in particular. It wasn't the Echo, as Minfilia didn't get warped at all. It couldn't have been strength, as the Circle were untouched despite fulfilling their purpose. It wasn't random, else many more people would've been warped through time, enemy and friend alike. Not just those adventurers.
I could only come up with one conclusion.
His judgement.
Louisoix personally chose who would move into the future and who would stay in the past, regardless of their wishes or consent.
I looked over the letter again, my hand slightly shaking.
There was no way to protect against that warp. Moving through space was one thing. Moving through time was another. Louisoix was trustworthy, wise, thoughtful, but also brash. Extreme too. It's what led him to break away from Sharlayan and protect the realm with his life in the first place.
I couldn't be caught up in his flow. I had to move parallel. We needed distance. Perhaps I was overthinking it. He had already invited me to collaborate with Minfilia, despite not knowing that I was already doing far more than collaborating with her already.
Perhaps, he was just poking me?
I had to over-analyze it now, else I'd suffer later. All while trying to navigate the chaos within the Suns of Yda.
---
Matoya pinched the bridge of her nose once again. Since taking on this pupil, she had started doing that more often than usual, which was truly saying something considering the crazy things the Elder Archon had seen. Soon, the bridge of her nose would be marked with obvious bruises.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because I wish to learn their arts, Master!"
Winter stood in front of her like a determined, but still fawning puppy demanding a treat. Or rather a punishment. The boy wanted to touch upon the principals of Somanoutics, the art of manipulating Aether with noulith foci to heal, protect and attack.
Winter wanted to learn the ways of the Sage.
"And why do you want to learn their arts?"
"...? To use them of course, Master."
"On what?"
"Bandits, Garleans, Beasts, Voidkin, Sentient Statues, Primals-"
"Stop. STOP YOU BRAT!"
She already had an inkling of what he had in mind. That terrifying magic of his, Dynamis, it allowed for far too much. With the proper structure, he could wield magicks that he absolutely couldn't cast. Somanoutics required knowledge of Aetherology, Sorcery, and Medicine just as a baseline to understand how Aether had to be focused. Beyond that, there was also a foundation of advanced mathematics that one had to comprehend to measure the output of their foci to stop them from exploding.
And yet, with Dynamis, as long as Winter believed it to be the case, he could bypass all of those requirements, casting whatever nonsense he wanted under the guise of principals and rules.
The more strict the rules were, the more potent his magicks became, and that's why the boy latched so strongly onto the idea of a Blue Mage.
What better magicks for a monster like him than the magicks of actual monsters?
Then combining that ability set with his desire to become a Rune Knight...
Matoya pinched the bridge of her nose once more.
She directly bypassed the thought of the boy fighting Primals of all things. With his ability, slaying Eikons wasn't an impossibility.
'Master Master~ Do you know much about Paladins, Dark Knights, Vipers, Dancers, White Mages, Sages, Black Mages, Red Mages, or Blue Mages?'
She was too old. If pushed too far, she was afraid that her mind would snap and then she'd knock Winter out cold.
'Only after drowning that bastard Louisoix...'
She had to gate him in one way or another. It simply wasn't possible to expose the rules of those various skill sets without also exposing the wealth of knowledge needed to wield them. Her mind recalled the forwarded findings from the Thaumaturge guild master, Mumuepo.
Casting Blizzard with no Aether, using Dynamis as the fuel... how could she work with that?
"You don't have the capacity to use the majority of those professions."
"Capacity?"
This was the method she chose. That numbskull E-Sumi-Yan was on the right track in this way. The Aetherpool was an important quality for any mage. Especially Sorcerers...
'Hm...'
"A Sorcerer's ability is tied to their capacity."
"But Master, I'm not a-"
"You are."
"...I am?"
This was the method.
"Do you not seek to cast magics from many varied disciplines? The Disciples of Magic all fall under the banner of Sorcery. Even the Red Mage, which touches on aspects of the Disciples of War. It is all Sorcery. To pursue these Jobs, and take their strength as your own, that is the way of Sorcery."
The framework to make sense of this boy, she would build upon it. A mighty magic tower that could fend off all foes and take in all knowledge. It was something she had planned for her first disciple, but considering the nature of this boy, he'd make a fantastic test run for her idea.
"To balance the ways of the Rune Knight, you must gain knowledge in Runes and the system in which they interlink. To balance the ways of the Sorcerer, you must educate yourself on theory and build your Dynamis capacity. It's not enough to cast these spells as they are, you must manipulate them, tune them to your understandings. That includes your understanding of Polarity."
"...! Yes Master!"
"Continue with your Runic Studies, I will quiz you upon the Ancient Hingashi chapter next."
"Yes, Master!"
The boy ran off while Matoya put more weight onto her staff, attempting to stay upright. Somewhere within her library, she had notes of Sorcery, but to sate the boy's appetite for magicks, she would have to expand it and build every aspect of magicks that she knew and theorize about what she did not.
Matoya was not the best Archon that Sharlayan had ever seen, but as an avid historian and guardian of the Great Gubal Library, she was in the unique position to fulfill such an insane task. It wasn't as simple as White and Black Magic. The steps of a Dancer in the East. The inner manifestations of a Dark Knight from the North. The Time Manipulation of the Red Mage. The Inheritance magicks of the long lost Blue Mage. The Aetheric weaving of the Sage.
Matoya tasked herself with creating a Sorcerer that went beyond the simple limits of what her fore-bearers created. Dynamis was an untapped field, full of potential, and she was bearing witness to the flag bearer. The boy would bear the weight of her teachings and expectations without complaint, so it only made sense that she would strain and sweat for his sake as well.
She didn't know where the energy was coming from, but the will to take the challenge on flared up in her ancient bones. An Archon's duty was never complete. The Elder Archon stood slightly taller, as her back told her not to get too cocky. She would beat Sorcery into that brat even if it killed him.