Who: Almalexia & Amos What: An inquiry. Where: Grande Cathedral When: Earlier today Rating: G Status: Complete
Lex had yet to acclimate to the encroaching autumn chill. Returning to the Cathedral that day, bundled in layers underneath her (admittedly rather comfortable) new cloak, she heaved out a sigh of one who was anxious to nestle herself near a fire for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately for her, there were many more tasks to be completed that day, and the bundle of scrolls underneath her arm gave hint to these chores still ahead.
She was about to make her way to the library when Lex turned a corner and spotted him. She stopped in her tracks and considered the priest, as well as the ideas that had been percolating since her turn at training with the former Feldwebel. Teaching others magic begged one to consider the state of their own training it seemed, as well as the necessity of self-improvement.
Another method of finding answers, as she was wont to seek them in winding, mazelike passageways (no simple courses for the mage, whose mind worked to consider each alternative carefully), this one seemed as yet another small step forward. “Father,” she spoke, picking up her pace to catch up with him. “Might you have a moment?”
“Certainly.”
The priest turned to her with a polite smile, mind as yet preoccupied with thoughts of the recent investigation. Correspondence with the Feldwebel had left him in a pleasant mood. By the Lord’s grace, he was not alone in his desire to expunge whatever festered under the city streets: a matter for which he anticipated no less than immediate action.
And yet thoughts of the investigation brought with them thoughts of the Korporal, the ensuing frictions. It was, after all, his concern as the Kaplan to mediate an armistice—not, Amos would concede, that Violet’s wasn’t a clever delivery of slight.
A chuckle at the memory before he focused on the present moment: “Is something the matter, Almalexia?”
She had moved to stand in front of him, shifting the bundle of scrolls in her possession from arm to arm. “No, not precisely,” Lex said, attempting to find the most adequate way to approach her question. This might’ve been better, she considered briefly, had she simply made an appointment and planned things out neatly ahead of time.
“I’ve been taking certain matters into consideration,” she explained, “and would like to ask for your advice.” Lex looked down, poking curiously at one of the scrolls. “Regarding magic.”
Only the slightest change in stance at this, but nonetheless a visible shift. The priest was not unaware of the timing. Neither was Amos one to shun its possible implications. (Or perhaps it was better to say that he was ever cognizant of the clock that hung over his head, slowly ticking.)
“I am happy to lend you whatever assistance I can,” he said. He cast a glance at the texts she’d amassed for herself. No consideration of arithmeticks, surely, if she had chosen to seek his opinion.
“Thank you, Father,” she said politely. “In my attempts to study the more advanced white magics, I have come across a number of details that would perhaps best be studied with someone more experienced in their use.”
Lex’s determination to master her magical abilities was no unusual thing, of course. As an arithmetician, it was rather obviously her intent. But this matter, however, was a study they both shared. She recalled quite vividly the Kaplan’s mastery over support magics, having not seen such a grand display before or since their shared time in the caves, fending off seemingly endless waves of undead with the rest of the Silver Blades. For a young mage, it was certainly nothing less than an inspiring sight.
She handed the priest one of the scrolls in her possession, and it was indeed one of the spells she had seen him perform. “As an example,” she explained.
Amos took the scroll and unrolled it. He was quick to recognise the familiar algorithms of Bravery amid her notes; he could not keep from taking a moment to recall his own annotations, illuminated by the flickering candlelight in his nightly studies years ago. The moment passed. He rolled the scroll once more and returned it to her.
Long had he wondered what sort of student the young arithmetician was. Amos would have one question answered, at least, among the many he held about the future.
“I should be available to review the theory with you in the evenings. Unless, of course, you are equipped to proceed directly to application?”
Lex considered it. But whatever desire she possessed to test herself was tempered by reason, and so she shook her head and replied, “A review of the theory would be preferable, thank you.” Adjusting the scrolls amassed underneath her arm, she dipped her head in a considerate nod. “I shall make myself available at your convenience, Father.”
She gave a look around, perhaps as if to determine where the Kaplan may have been off to. “If you will excuse me then? I do not mean to take up more of your time.” Aside from the possibility that she might inconvenience him, however, Lex was not so at ease in his presence as to linger longer than what she deemed as necessary--and it hinted in the formal stiffness of her shoulders, the straightening of her posture as if remaining at attention. Waiting for instruction.
“Oh, never worry about that, Almalexia,” he said, nodding his assent. “Good day.”
Amos watched as the arithmetician went. If there was a speculative gleam in his eyes, it was hard to say. Soon enough, he turned on his heel and resumed his own path, hands tucked into his robes to guard from the cold.