Entry 2: 10th day of the month of Arborie, Spring of the year 897 Ibx. 10th Era:
As I opened my eyes this morning, I was greeted by the unfamiliar sight of a strange chamber.
The room was large and bare, with sun-stripped brick walls and iron rafters. The morning sun provided warmth and rejuvenation to my soul. Beside me, I heard a voice.
“Thrice blessed are you friend,” said Estoban, with his handsome face and kind eyes.
He explained to me me that I was in the infirmary at the Academie de Mevilles, and that I had been unconscious for two days. He also said that I had damaged my soul, and would be unable to cast spells for at least a week.
This was a concern most mages faced when undergoing soul magic training. Therefore, there were very many safeguards that students implemented before even beginning. I had bypassed all of these safeguards when I overstretched my soul, at the possible detriment of any future spellcasting.
[For those of you hoping to locate the infirmary, it is one block south from town square. The building takes up an entire block of its own, a size which is to be expeced at a mage’s college — consider how many students may suffer from a botched “levitate” spell on the daily! A.E.]
Despite my injuries, he praised my actions, which had helped the Temple begin tracking down the criminals who had attacked the Pentacle Court.
A chill fell upon the room as images of the attack returned to my mind. Two birds. A wizard. An airship. A disc.
“Say, what was that disc they took?” I asked.
“That was the Divine Astrolable of Cosmic Thelonius. It has been protected in the Temple vaults since time immemorial.”
“An astrolable? What would a criminal wizard want with such a thing?”
“The Astrolable is strong in mystic power. It’s supposed to have channeled and stored the power of the prophetic constellations in the 3rd Era. I doubt there’s a more powerful artefact in all of Mevilles. Sister Diana thinks they intend to use it as a magical power source. I figure it shouldn’t be difficult to find someone using so much mystic energy.”
“Certainly, you’d be correct in thinking that if it weren’t for Augustus Xirfire, the soul wizard working with them.”
Estoban tilted his head in curiosity as he often would when I explained magic theory.
“The size of his antimagic field was astronomical. In order to induce one that large, one’s skill would have to be infallible and one’s mana reserves enormous. He is a powerful ally indeed, and will likely be able to counteract the residual emmissions the astrolable may give off. It’ll be impossible to find them off of ambient mana alone.”
Estoban deflated slightly at this, before appearing to consider something. Suddenly, he sat up with a smile.
“Say, I was thinking…” he began with a pause. All the while my heart leapt into my chest and a chill ran through my body. “I was wondering if you’d like to join my party?”
My hands trembled under the infirmary sheets. “Sorry?” I asked, giddy with the thought of joining Estoban anywhere.
“Well, yesterday I dialled up my mother on the college telephone. She’s an administrator at the Adventurer’s Guild in Mevilles city, approves quests for guild members. She often has spare resources to grant to non-members and their quests, and so I asked her if she would help me track down these villains.”
“And she agreed?”
“Er- not exactly. It was an ambitious request to start with, so she told me she’d give me the resources for smaller quests that might prove helpful. I’m also permitted a small party to join me, and I was wondering if you would join me? And perhaps, since I’m not as well connected as you, you could help me find others to include in our party?
“None of the paladins would be interested, and even if they were, the church recommends against having too many paladins in a party, since they’re a lot more valuable to them than mages or more basic martial adventurers.”
My heart beat so fast it could almost tear out of my chest.
“But of course! I would be honored! Now, as for who ought to be in the team…”
For the rest of the morning we discussed what kind of skillsets we wanted in our party, and who would best suit those skillsets. We agreed to reconvene later in the week to discuss further.
By noon, the healers at the infirmary allowed me to return to my apartment, instructing me not to overextend myself in magic until my soul completely repaired itself.
As I walked home, the now grey skies opened up, letting out a light sprinkle of rain. Raising my wand, I cast a weak plane of force spell over myself, creating a sort of magical shield above myself to deflect the rain.
Carnelius burrowed himself into the inner pocket of my suit jacket, entirely displeased by the rain. He had sat patiently by my side the entire time I was unconscious, and was now eager to return home.
When I returned to my apartment, Pyotr was seated at his old wooden stool, with Eugeny’s back panel open before him. Pyotr’s hands were deep inside the automaton’s torso, fiddling with a set of gold wires feeding into his ‘heart’. Hearing me enter, he turned around with excitement.
The young Kussite was of a stockier build than I, and his face much paler and rounder. His black hair was tied back, showing his luminous silvery eyes. He wore, as was his custom, a plain but good quality shirt and brown leather jacket, and protected his fingers with leather work gloves.
I had hardly closed the door to the apartment when he beamed at me and eagerly announced, “Eureka, Enri! You wouldn’t believe it! I’ve just cracked a way to maintain a weak shield around Eugeny harnessing ambient mana alone! The spell won’t take any power to sustain at all because it will be self-maintaining!”
At this he procured an object from the workbench behind him. The object was a golden sphere about the size of his palm and with a thin groove running along its bisect. With a thin surge of electromagnomantic energy from Pyotr, the runes along the sides of the sphere glowed blue with magic. An electromagnetic field began to form around the sphere, and I recognised this effect as a simple shielding spell. However, once Pyotr stopped funneling magical energy into the sphere, the spell effect continued to be powered by the ambient mana in the space of the room. Pyotr had achieved a thoroughly impressive feat, to say the least.
I nodded to him, smiling. “And a good morning to you Pyotr! I’ve just returned from the infirmary, where I have been comatose for the last two nights. I appreciate your concern.”
Pyotr only frowned at this. Switching off the orb entirely, he went back to attempting to affix it to the inner core of the automaton.
“I noticed you simply unpacked your belongings on the floor of our room before you left, Enri. While you were in the infirmary, I took the time to return them to their rightful places. Please excuse me if they are not in their correct places, since I completed this task from my memory of how you had everything last semester.” The young engineer responded, perhaps with a tone of bitterness.
I took myself over to my lodging to find that Pyotr had indeed replaced all of my clothes and books exactly as I had had them before I left for the spring. I realised that my astral servant that I had summoned before departing for the temple must have been dispelled when the wizard created that antimagic field. I promptly apologised to Pyotr for this and thanked him for his kindness.
Now I sit at the desk in my apartment, writing a recount of the desecration of the temple and my morning exactly as I remember it. I also have begun planning how my week ought to look using the timetable Pyotr had so kindly collected for me from my mail.
Carnelius, for his own part, had already leapt into his enclosure, and was heating his naturally cold blood on the magically warm sands of his domicile. Evidently, the lizard is far less diligent than I am.
As I peruse my timetable, I am pleased to see the schedule of classes and lessons I have arranged for the coming week. On Daimon, I will have only one class, a lecture on soul magic. This day is typically reserved for magic theory across most institutions of learning.
On Dailunn, the second day of the week, I will have two classes in history, the first being a lecture and the second being a lesson in the museum. I have chosen to study the history of the first era for this semester. After these classes, I will have a lesson in the Original Tongue, which will occur at the same time thrice a week. It is yet uncertain what text we will be translating this semester, so I eagerly await this class.
On Daihumet, the third day of the week, I will have a training lesson in astral manipulation, followed by my lessons in Eldfe, the ancient language of the elven ancestors. These lessons will also occur at the same time thrice a week, after which I will attend my Original Tongue seminar.
On Daielen, I will continue my training in soul bonds, followed by the triweekly Eldfe and Original Tongue lessons.
Finally, on Daikhan, the last Eldfe lesson of the week will mark the end of my lessons for this ten-day period. Following this is a five-day weekend on the days of Daicosm, Daisoj, Daibexi, Daitehl, and Daijere. This will be a well-deserved break after a busy week of classes and lessons.
Meanwhile, Pyotr has activated a sigil on Eugeny’s chest, which has since begun playing a soft jazz tune which the radio presenter identified as ‘Haunted Heart’. The music reverberates throughout the room, bouncing off of the wooden floorboards. Pyotr hums along happily, attempting to follow along with the runs of the piano with his left hand while he scans an engineering document with his right.
This evening, Archmage Norel Visk, the Headmaster of the Academie will hold a great banquet for all returning students, and will likely acknowledge the tragedy that indeed occurred at the temple during his opening remarks for the semester. Expect to be hearing my thoughts in the next entry.
In the meantime, I might go have myself a dance to this easy listening.
Entry 3: 10th day of the month of Arborie, Spring of the year 897 Ibx. 10th Era:
Pyotr and I made our way together towards the Great Hall for the orienation banquet this evening. I wore dress robes, as usual – my black suit (kindly freshened up by the holy magic of Estoban while I was abed in the infirmary) with a black mage robe. Pyotr wore a traditional Kussite long coat of black, embroidered with spiral patterns at the hem.
This was a special night for the entire town, and all the townsfolk of the college village were preparing for a small-scale festival that would take place overnight following the banquet. Many wore their best attire for the evening, with most donning a suit of some kind.
Built at the opening of the Academy in 813 Ibex, the hall is a large brick building nestled in the valley of the northwestern and southwestern hills. The great hall is actually one of three halls within a larger building known as College Hall. This building is the pride of the Academie, being a large rectangular structure of sandstone bricks enclosing two central courtyards split by the Great Hall; the structure was topped by a grand clocktower in its front and an observatory in its back, each centred either end of the Great Hall’s roof.
At the strike of the 19th hour on my pocket watch, we made our way into the Great Hall. The inner confines of the hall was a sight to behold, with tall ceilings and gorgeous wooden panels lining the walls, from which paintings of old headmasters and alumni hung. At the end of the hall opposite the grand doors from which we filed in was a platform upon which could be seen a large throne of yew wood flanked by 3 smaller thrones on each side. These seats were reserved for the board of studies – the Archmage and a number of other pompous and honourable wizards. Along the floor and in the gallery above, long tables were placed with benches and lined with fine cutlery. Along the lengths of the tables stood silver candelabras, and perched on the walls were gaslamps carved of painted copper to appear as wizards and magical creatures magically lighting the room. From the tall ceiling, hanging in the spaces between the rafters, were chandeliers – enormous and bright, and adorned with crystals from across the republic. In the gallery above the archmage’s throne, an organ resonated with an upbeat tune that gave the entire hall a jovial atmosphere. The space was already abuzz with sonorous conversation, as over 2000 students and academics began to fill the benches within.
Each person wore their formal clothes, and each one was different from the last. While most wore formal suits and evening gowns, often with a modern mage robe on top, many chose to wear the traditional unisex mage robes of yore, with its embroidered star and moon patterns and pointed hats. Many others wore formal attire more suited to the west coast of the Great Continent, with top hats and jackets with long coat-tails. Others still wore the formal robes of their homeland, with a great many of them donning long robes and cloaks in a multitude of colours.
The paladins and clergy, all of whom were seated at the foremost table, wore their heavy plate armour, which they adorned with vestments of white and pale blue cloth. They all appeared to be in mourning, with many of them wearing heavy cloaks of dark wool fastened by a brass brooch effigy of a flower with a snapped stem – the Thelonic symbol of sorrow. I spotted Estoban in the crowd, but he seemed deep in philosophical discussion with a teacher of the Word, so I could not greet him.
Pyotr and I parted ways at the door, with each of us having to turn to our own tables to join the peers of our respective schools of magic. I found myself seated next to Carlos Noixe, my peer in soul magic at the academy. Tonight, the bearded young mage from the sacred lands of Alreab in the south had chosen to wear a fine white suit and a golden half-cape that he bunched into his left fist. Just as we were about to engage in a discussion on the effectiveness of using incense to induce an astral awakening, we were interrupted by a sudden change in the organ’s tone from joyful to grand. A hush gathered among the students.
Everyone turned in their seats to behold the Archmage enter the Great Hall and the board of studies trail in behind him. Headmaster Norel Viriask was, fitting to his status, a rather regal man. Standing tall and proud, he did not shy away from his Argalt heritage, which granted him, as a result of the long passed storm of the Grey Prince Khan that cursed his Thielen ancestors, purple-grey skin and black hair which now silvered with age above the ears. Many believed him to be at least a millenium old, as was common for powerful wizards, and his deep-set eyes showed wisdom beyond measure, from what I could remember from my interview now three years past. For the most important night of the year, the Archmage wore his most official robes: a large hooded robe of white silk and gilded in gold; hanging from his shoulders were the ceremonial Enmvah, a thin scarf and cloth pauldrons which matched the robe in fabric and colour. In his hand he gripped a staff made of mithral-tipped ash wood topped with a small bell – the Oncovayre, a staff extremely well known for its immense power. The board of studies, trailing behind him in equally formal and fine robes, took their seats on the stage in solemn silence.
[It is worth noting, for those unfamiliar, the heirarchical nature of wizard society. At the most basic level are mages, students of magic with skill levels that range anywhere between novice and adept; a graduate of any magic college is considered an adept mage, while new students are considered novice mages. Adept mages are permitted to practice magic professionaly, but must pay a tax to the council of archmages. Enri is in his third year of university, which means he is a ‘Penult’ mage. Next are the apprentice mages. While still technically mages, these students of magic are of a higher standing to others, as they are under the tutelage of an official wizard of the academic system. Only once such a student has completed their apprenticeship at the discretion of their master, they are considered a wizard themselves. Wizards are exempt from magic tax, and obviously may also take up apprentices or employ mages to do their bidding. Particularly exceptional wizards may be promoted to a council of nine wizards counsellors of which there are nine situated across the globe. From the nine councils, one member is elected as the chair and is thereafter placed on the council of Archmages, the highest rank that a mage may reach. The Honourable Norel Visk is one such Archmage, being the representative of the Northern Council. A.E.]
As all settled in to their seats, having been signalled to sit by the conclusion of the organ’s music, the Archmage climbed behind his throne to the lectern, which stood some metres taller than the stage and upon the frieze of which was engraved the image of a griffin in battle with a large lizard-like creature. Leaning forward upon the lectern, the Archmage began the speech that would mark the commencement of a new year of education at the Academie de Mevilles.
“Bonsoir, students and esteemed members of the clergy,” he began. “I am Archmage Norel Visk, Headmaster of the Academie, and it is with a heavy heart that I stand before you tonight.
“As you are all aware, our beloved temple was the target of a vicious attack two evenings past. In the midst of our sacred court, a group of masked assailants, led by the wizard Augustus Xirfire, committed a heinous act of theft and murder. They shattered the window depicting Thelonius’ apotheosis and cast an antimagic field, rendering our spells and incantations useless.
“In the face of this great evil, we were fortunate to have brave students like Julia Theron, who stepped forward to defend our temple with honour. Unfortunately, she paid the ultimate price for her bravery, and we mourn her loss deeply.
“But despite the darkness that has descended upon us, we must not let fear and despair take hold. We must stand together and remain strong in the face of adversity. The Academie will continue to uphold its commitment to the study and practice of magic, and we will not be deterred by the actions of a few misguided individuals.
“We will work together to ensure that justice is served and that those responsible for this attack are brought to their end. And in the meantime, we will continue to honor the memory of our fallen comrade and support each other through this difficult time.”
A wail was let out somewhere among the paladins. Beside me, Carlos shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fiddling with the hem of his cape.
“Now, I would like to welcome the novice mages to their first year at the Academie.” Visk said, changing the tone of his speech. “I wish you all the best in your studies. And if any of you should wish now to transfer from our prestigious college to a local one – say, Mevilles City College – I urge you, reconsider your life’s choices.”
At this, the crowd of students laughed. Mevilles City College was one of many smaller institutions for mages across the globe and, while perfectly capable at instructing students in the magical arts, it did not do them any favours in becoming reputable mages after graduation. Thus, it, and really any other local mage’s college, was seen as something of a joke among academy mages.
[You didn’t think the Academie de Mevilles was the only university for mages in the country (or God forbid, the world) did you? That would be absurd considering half of the global population practices magic. That would never work! A.E.]
“May Thelonius guide us and bless us with his wisdom and strength as we move forward. Toriel monesca un ienis.” The headmaster concluded, and with a wave of his hand, the organ began to play once more, and waiters began to bring out the first meal.
[Editor’s note: those final words spoken by Visk are the motto of the academy, and translate to ‘Through God and spirit, knowledge will prevail’. The motto was decided upon by the high council in 8813 Ibx., and was probably inspired by an early inscription upon the monastery walls. By Enri’s time, the monastery had been destroyed, but I believe the inscription spoke to the sacred power of the number three.]
Throughout the rest of the evening, we dined on a sumptuous three course meal of a quadrifarous quail as an entree, a cooked octopus doused in a warm Elven alcohol, and a fantastic caramel cake which the Archmage ceremonially cut. Over such delicious food, only the most engaging of discussions could be had; I discussed among my fellow soul mages, many of us being immigrants, and ambitious ones at that, whether we would prefer to be on the Northern Wizard Council, to which Levonic wizards often went, or on the Wizard Council of our homeland, were we would be able to meet with individuals of our own ethical and cultural mindset.
At the twenty-third hour of the evening, the hall had all but cleared out, and Pyotr and I decided to return back to our quarters. So, I farewelled my companions, whom I would see only hours later in our first class the next morning, and Pyotr and I began our walk across the village to our home. The streets across town had not yet emptied, as the townsfolk were still celebrating the new academic (and thus new financial) year, so we agreed to take the longer route via town square. The space by now was filled giddy with students and commoners alike, all dancing to the music of a small marching band by the light of the canvas lanterns that hung suspended from strings that criss-crossed the cobbled streets.
As we walked, Pyotr and I discussed which school of magic was the best, an argument which, though arbitrary, was often held between students walking home drunkenly in the wee hours. Pyotr, of course, argued for arcane magic, and pointed to the usefulness of limenism in both utilitarian and academic pursuits. Naturally, I upheld my loyalty to soul magic, counter-attacking by retorting that it is equally utilitarian and academically challenging, but ultimately trumped all other forms of magic as any spell caster could be rendered useless by its effects. Naturally, Pyotr countered that soul magic didn’t even technically count as any kind of magic at all, and we digressed into a debate on whether it deserved that fate before arriving home and retiring to our beds.
Tomorrow will mark the commencement of my penultimate year as a student at this fantastic university, and you will certainly be joining me every step of the way diary. Good night.
[I find this break in the text a good point in Enri’s tale to discuss how exactly magic works in Arrealis, the universe in which both Enri and I play out our lives. There are three types of magic that can be utilised by mages: arcane magic, mystic magic, and soul magic. The first two are considered ‘true magic’, as they fit the definition of magic as upheld by the archmage council: the manipulation of the physical world by magical or magically influenced means.
Arcane magic involves the use of a mage’s knowledge of magic and reality in order to influence it; arcane mages may be vector mages that employ the innate magical qualities of physical matter to create magical effects or they may be rune mages, like Pyotr, that manipulate the fundamental frameworks of reality through the use of language and words of power; two schools of magic may be used by arcane mages – limenism, or the manipulation of time and space, and electromagnomancy, or the manipulation of energy and matter.
Mystic magic requires a more conceptual understanding of the universe as it is, with practicers of this type viewing reality as an admixture of properties that can be observed and changed in unimaginable ways; mystic mages may be spirit mages, also known as classical mages, that channel spiritual energies to to overcome barriers in the mystic corpus, or they may be intermediary mages that employ sacred objects and mystic locatives in order to invoke mystic knowledge and power; two schools of magic fall under mystic magic – mysticism, the basic observation and manipulation of mystic energies, and mortomancy, the use of mystic life energy in healing and harming magic.
Finally, soul magic is the third type of ‘magic’ in Arrealis. The soul is a semi-extra-spatial astral entity that has several properties crucial to sapient life and magic. Primarily, souls are a vessel and conductor for ambient mana or astral energy — the fundamental source of all magic, true or false (soul magic and its subsets occur purely across the astral realm, and is therefore false magic). The most important features of a soul are as follows: a boundary that binds the soul’s inner functions; a series of three interconnected nexuses known as the mental nexus (where the mental functions are believed to take place), the spiritual nexus (where an individual’s identity exists), and the astral nexus (a mage’s primary vessel for mana that is used up via spell casting). Soul magic primarily involves the manipulation of such nexuses either in the soul mage themself or their opponents and allies. There are three different schools of soul mages: aetheriaries, that manipulate aetherial plane that exists around souls, as well as the ambient aetherial or astral energy within souls; astralists, that create and change the bonds that tie souls together, and; psychomancers, that take advantage of the inherent mental properties of a soul. Most soul mages choose to take up two of these three schools, as our Enri has done.
If this refresher has been thoroughly insufficient, then you may soon see that Enri’s notes on his classes may provide a satisfactory supplement. If this is not the case, and you would like to gain further information on the subject of magic and its subsets, please contact me at the desk of the Eternal Library. A.E.]