Nectar
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🕑 Added 2024-05-21 06:42:15 +0000 UTCChapter 12
- 1 -
“So, you have been seeking introductory books, am I correct, my lord?” Derrick asked.
“Yes, I’ve been seeking introductory books on sorcery. I’m eager to begin studying sorcery and could use recommendations on quality books. What works would you recommend for a newcomer to the arcane arts? More importantly, do you possess them?”
Derrick stroked his chin thoughtfully. “For theory and history, Arnelden’s ‘Fundamentals of the Mysticism’ provides an excellent foundation—granted, it is rather archaic, but nothing has topped it yet in my opinion. As for practical spellcasting, you can’t go wrong with the classic ‘Spellcasting for Initiates’ by Varyn.”
“Those do sound promising,” Ethan nodded, making a mental note of the titles. “But I must ask, what brings a former Red Tower member here? I’m pretty sure you could have easily sent someone in your stead?
Derrick smiled. “Well, my lord, while books can convey knowledge, personalized guidance is invaluable for truly mastering the arcane. I would be more than willing to take you on as my apprentice—for a reasonable fee, of course.”
Ah, so that’s why he came himself...
“Is that so?” Ethan smiled. “Your offer intrigues me, Sir Derrick. Perhaps we could discuss terms over a cup of tea?”
“It would be my honor.”
After a lengthy discussion over steaming cups of fragrant tea, Ethan and Derrick came to a mutually agreeable arrangement. Derrick would take on the role of Ethan’s mentor, guiding him through the initiate stage of sorcery and imparting his wealth of knowledge from his time at the prestigious Red Tower. In exchange, Ethan would provide Derrick with a generous monthly stipend, as well as room and board within the castle grounds. The terms also stipulated that their arrangement would be kept strictly confidential, known only to Ethan, Derrick, and Roland. Discretion was paramount, given the sensitive nature of sorcery—especially knowledge from a former Red Tower member—and the potential political implications of a nobleman openly studying the arcane arts.
Regardless, Ethan no longer needed to worry about books.
With the details finalized and a contract signed, Derrick took his leave, promising to return within a week to commence Ethan’s tutelage. As the former Red Tower mage departed, Ethan looked at Roland.
“There’s one more thing, Roland.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“It may be a stretch, but... could you also train me in close combat, as well? It’s only fitting that I sharpen both my magical and physical prowess. You see, in addition to my forthcoming sorcery lessons, I believe it prudent that I also receive combat training from you directly.”
Roland’s brow furrowed momentarily before understanding dawned upon him.
“You wish to learn the ways of battle, my lord?”
“Precisely,” Ethan affirmed. “One must maintain a balanced approach; would you not agree?”
A wry smile tugged at the corners of Roland’s mouth. “Indeed, my lord. Very well. Though, I must warn you, I shall not go easy on you simply because you are a nobleman.”
“I would expect nothing less. Let us begin at once.”
- 2 -
Roland had been trying to teach Lord Theodore the fundamentals of swordsmanship. Footwork drills, grip exercises, and simple strikes filled their training sessions. Theodore proved an impatient student; he insisted they begin sparring despite Roland’s advice. A sword in his hand, Roland soon understood why Lord Theodore wanted to do that.
The man was a beast. He improved like a beast.
There was no other way to describe it. It had barely been a day since their training began. But there was already a noticeable improvement in his swordsmanship. He could maintain proper posture now. And he learned the basic cuts faster than Roland had thought possible. It wasn’t perfect. But it was much more than Roland expected from him after only a few hours of practice.
Roland would fix and point out any mistakes after a spar and Theo would instantly adjust accordingly.
They clashed once more. Wood against wood. The low thud echoed across the courtyard. There was a fierce intensity in Lord Theodore’s eyes. Roland found the lord a hard opponent to read. He wasn’t able to predict what he’d try next. Lord Theodore mixed up his feints and attacks constantly. Admittedly, he was clumsy. Far too much, in fact.
Expertly parrying Lord Theodore’s clumsy swing, Roland hummed lightly. The wooden sword Lord Theodore wielded looked like a foreign object in his grasp. It lacked the grace and lethality Roland was accustomed to. Hmm, he’s not as bad as I’d thought he’d be.
“Again,” Roland commanded, his voice firm but not unkind. “Remember, follow through. A weak swing is no better than no swing at all.”
Lord Theodore wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded.
“Now, strike.”
Their practice weapons slammed against each other, over and over again. Roland deflected an awkward blow and darted past the noble. Lord Theodore tried to turn and block, but he was too slow, his wooden sword hitting only air. Roland’s sword was held against Lord Theodore’s backside.
Lord Theodore sighed and dropped his sword.
“Pick it up,” said Roland. He stepped aside, the wooden sword still in his hand. Lord Theodore glared and reached down.
He lifted the wooden sword and faced Roland, his chest heaving. He took a deeper breath and launched another attack. Roland followed his movements easily, then slashed. However, much to his surprise, Lord Theodore ducked. Utilizing the footwork Roland had taught him, Lord Theodore circled Roland. Dipping once more, he struck a feint, then maneuvered around to hit Roland in the shoulder. This time, he connected, albeit glancingly, with the flat of the blade against Roland’s shoulder. Roland barely flinched.
“Better,” Roland conceded, “but still sloppy. Focus on your footwork. It’s the foundation of any good attack or defense.”
“It’s hard to keep track of where I’m moving when I’m doing all those crazy steps you’ve showed me,” said Theodore.
“Perhaps I ought to kick your feet out from under you?”
“Don’t you dare,” said Theodore, growling, then lunged. Roland clicked his tongue in disappointment. Anger was not the best path to power—he’d learned that at great personal cost.
Roland easily countered his attack, whipping his wooden sword at Theodore’s legs. Theodore jumped into the air, flailing his legs as if his life depended upon it.
“Such an absurd form,” sighed Roland. “How can you possibly hope to perform any complicated maneuvers if you keep behaving like a little boy fighting in the street?”
Theodore growled once more, then they continued for a while, Roland patiently demonstrating and correcting Lord Theodore’s mistakes. Theodore appeared to get angrier. Sighing, Roland disarmed him for the umpteenth time, slamming his sword into Lord Theodore’s.
A glint in Lord Theodore’s eyes, he dropped his posture, brought his fists up close to his face in a weird stance, and launched himself forward without his sword.
Roland blinked, momentarily caught off guard. This wasn’t part of the lesson plan.
Realizing that Lord Theodore had been acting angry so Roland would let his guard down, Roland smiled slightly as Lord Theodore’s fist connected with Roland’s jaw with a surprising amount of force. It wasn’t a knockout blow by any means. In fact, Roland barely even moved. Regardless, it was a surprise attack, one that clearly worked. Back to his senses, Roland blocked Lord Theodore’s next punch, then countered with a swift kick that sent the surprised Lord Theodore sprawling onto his backside.
Lord Theodore lay there for a moment, chest heaving, a grin slowly spreading across his face. The initial shock fading, Roland couldn’t help but notice the spark of life that had ignited in Lord Theodore’s eyes during that brief exchange. Perhaps, Roland mused, there were more ways to train for combat than just swinging a sword.
“That,” Lord Theodore wheezed, staring into the air, “was unexpected.”
Roland stared at him, a mixture of surprise and something akin to amusement dawning on his face. “What was unexpected, my lord?”
Ethan chuckled, wiping a stray bit of sweat from his lip. “Nothing.”
“Regardless, that was impressive,” Roland commended. Lord Theodore sat up and shook his head to regain his senses.
“Your unconventional tactics remind me of my sparring sessions in the Holy Sword Academy,” chuckled Roland, placing a hand on his hip. “Especially with a fellow cadet who had a reputation, but he was good with the sword. He was even better when he used unconventional methods in swordfight. An odd little fellow, he was.”
“Did you win all your matches?” Theodore asked.
“He did. His techniques were impressive,” replied Roland. “I lost quite badly, actually.”
“Ah.”
“Anyways, let’s end today’s session here,” said Roland.
“I agree. It’s time for me to practice magic.”
...
As Roland walked off, Ethan stared at the notification he’d been waiting for since yesterday.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Swordsmanship (Novice)]!
Swordsmanship (Novice) – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You’ve grasped the basic movements and stances of wielding a sword. You can swing a blade with minimal control and can defend yourself clumsily against slow or unarmed attackers.
Nothing impressive, yet. But he’d make it impressive by practicing as hard as he could. He’d been absorbing whatever Roland threw his way like a sponge, and today, finally, he’d managed to land a hit on Roland. Granted, he’d used boxing today just to try it out, and maybe to add some more moves to his arsenal, but the hit had been his own hard work. Actually, I wonder why I didn’t get a boxing skill, Ethan thought to himself.
After all, there was no way he wouldn’t gain boxing as a skill given how he’d been in love with it like a madman back on earth. Thinking of earth brought some memories unbidden in his mind. Now wasn’t the time for introspection, though.
Looking at the slowly departing figure of Roland in the distance, he grinned. Tomorrow, he’d ask him to spar once more. He’d been rather busy lately. I hope Jack can get me some dirt, so I can officially get investors... Ethan thought. He’d met the man and informed him of what he wanted to do. Strangely enough, Jack appeared to be okay with espionage. Heck, the man seemed ready. Did he do it before, perhaps? I am beginning to think he’s linked to some influential people.
Ethan had a few reasons to think so.
One, Jack was too good at what he did. Two, the man was a walking [Necromancer]. No ordinary [Necromancer] would even dare think about walking like that—people held a certain opinion about [Necromancers], and however uninformed it might be, people often want to believe that they’re right and everyone else is wrong. So, Jack should have someone backing him—otherwise, he wouldn’t dare walk around.
Not to mention he got information on the tax collectors—even though I hadn’t asked him to. What’s more, he already had one of his ravens stationed so far off. He told me about the tax collectors, almost as if he knew I’d need his assistance with stuff later. His behavior—when I met him and talked to him that I wanted dirt on nobles, merchants, and the like—also gives me a lot of hints. He knew I’d ask him. In fact, he told me about the tax collectors so that I would ask him to do espionage for me. Does that mean he has more summons around the kingdom? What’s his agenda? I should be careful. Regardless, it’s time for magic, Ethan thought, staring at his hand.
Recently, he’d been trying to manipulate the fire into different shapes. He called this method of his, shaping. And the reason he’d started doing it was rather simple: It was hard to move the fire in the manner he wished it to, and if he had to fight against monsters and people far out-leveling him, he needed to know how to control what was in his own arsenal. That included the fire, and water. Though, admittedly, he’d been focused on fire and swordsmanship for now.
One thing at a time is the best way to go. Besides, I don’t see water’s uses just yet. Water wasn’t as fun as fire was in Ethan’s mind, after all. The thought in mind, Ethan willed the fire rune into existence on top of his palm.
Runes were elusive to him. Enigmatic. Mysterious. He would love to discover more about them so he could use his [Basic Rune Creation] skill better. He’d realized it while using it, but the skill wasn’t only limited to construction. He just knew in some part of his mind, like something instinctual, primal. Using this sense, he could tell he wasn’t using the skill to its fullest potential.
His focus waning for a second, the rune dissipated into the surroundings.
Sighing, Ethan used it again and focused his entire mind on changing the spherical shape into something else.
Twenty minutes passed in a flash, and all Ethan could do was let out a groan of exasperation at the utter lack of improvement. Though, admittedly, the groan was more due to the headache he was getting. Stopping everything, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Meditating a little, he cooled his thoughts and collected his racing emotions, then continued breathing slowly. Inhaling through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. As he did that, he began noticing the flow of mana through [Magic Sensitivity] and [Magic Perception]. He could feel it. It was like water, but extremely insubstantial, offering no buoyancy, no resistance as it passed through him.
It entered through his nose, then settled into his lungs before moving from there into every inch of his body, entering his reserve of mana in a process he could only describe as somehow.
Fascinated by this, he wondered whether this mana had a specific source in the human body—after all, he did feel something akin to a “core” once—before his eyes flicked open with excitement at the sudden sound and system notification in front of him.
