Peony Min (blackmagicks) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-11-14 19:38:00 |
|
|||
By the end of the class, the various attendees looked tired (and a few confused -- likely at being tired). She often found this to be the case with nonmages; the energy required to access and use mana was quite different from that utilized in battle, and weariness would set in with most magical beginners. As the allotted time came to an end, she passed around the basic scrolls she had prepared for those who had signed up to take the course. She would have preferred to work with them personally to spell mastery, but there was no time for that, of course. The papers would have to do. She offered a kind smile to the one young knight who had managed to light her candle before the end of the session -- that one had a gift. It was rare to be able to cast so quickly, even with expert assistance. “I recommend you complete study on your own time using the materials I have prepared for you. Do not be discouraged if it takes weeks. And do not attempt this around any flammable objects until you are very certain of success.” Her expression pleasant and her voice habitually soft, she handed the last attendee the final scroll just as the cathedral bells began to chime the hour in the distance. “If you intend to train today, in any capacity, eat first. You have worked harder than you realize. Thank you for your time and attention.” As the course attendees filed out, she made her way over to the man at the back of the room. He had not participated in the lesson as such, but she had felt his attention all the same. As the last of her students departed, she waited to hear what he would say before she offered her opinion on the class. As the varyingly bewildered, exhausted, and inspired conscripts seeped out of the hall, Heron made himself predictably available for those students with questions they'd been unable or unwilling to fit into normal class time, approaching him where he sat. Peony had elected for a practical, hands-on lesson, and though no one in the room was going to master a spell in one afternoon, they were all leaving the dojo with a transformed understanding of the discipline. Not for the first time, Heron noted the deceptively young, moonlike countenance of Councilwoman Min. With her careful voice and methodical ways, she was the sort of person one might easily underestimate, and simultaneously the sort of person one would only underestimate once. Given their minimal exposure to the Mage's guild, Heron wondered if his students had made a similar calculation with their guest lecturer. So much the better. His words to her, after the final squire had been sent on their way, were delivered without ceremony as he pulled himself from the stool he’d made his home for the latter half of the class. "Thoughts?" “They work hard,” Peony said after a moment of consideration. She had not doubted they would, with Heron Shaw in the back of the room, watching over the proceedings. “Some are rather talented.” And some were not, but this was the way of the world. They would all learn it, if they applied themselves. Rare was the student who couldn’t, with adequate time and energy expended. “You may,” she said with a hint of a smile, “have some lightheadedness around the hall today. And possibly some fires in the next few weeks.” This was something else about students: not everyone would listen to instructions given for their own good. Every other scholar set something on fire at least once in the course of their training; it was not even always an accident, and some of today’s students had been young enough for such foolish bravado. “And your thoughts?” she prompted. "Thought as much myself," he said, smile faint enough to almost keep it from being a smile at all. "Though you've my word there'll be consequences up to expulsion if they take liberties with the instruction. There were no doubts your word was to be followed as if it were mine." The expression on his face was hard to read just then, as he made his way over to Peony, broad shoulder rolling. Hard work. Both the most basic requirement in the students he'd accepted over the years, and the most prized trait. He'd looked past personality flaws and deficits of talent more than once for its sake, and rarely regretted it, even (especially) amongst the current crop of Silver Blades, the most elite troop in the land, a few of whom he’d come to think of as nearly his own blood. That’d been his skill, as Feldwebel--to polish diamonds out of what looked like rough. Just show him you would work for it, make progress, and he'd give you the keys. “Challenge enough to arrange the classes with the guilds; don’t need a squire ending the program altogether when he gets the idea to start wielding his new--cosmic power in the guildhalls.” “Accidents occasionally happen,” was her estimation of the matter; she did not add, children will be children. She had a notion that their perspectives on discipline might vary, and after all, she was the guest lecturer here. Perhaps, too, it was difficult not to become accustomed to random fires and other small magical accidents in the Tower; scholars would try to practice outside of casting rooms, and as long as one learned from one’s mistakes and no one was seriously injured, her own guild tended to be lenient with punishment. “True,” he said, eyes not without a hint of good-natured amusement. He was well-aware that his own hyper-sobriety in the squirehood wasn’t something most young fighters came by naturally. But with such magical beginners as these, dipping their toes in a stream of knowledge well outside their natural spring, he was loth to tolerate even the scent of disobedience. They were to be soldiers one day, after all. He started shouldering on his greatcoat. “It is good of you to offer this,” she said after a moment. “There are times I wish the members of my own guild might possess some small amount of martial training, for all that many of us are ill-suited to it.” She counted herself very much among that number; after years in Sister Felicity’s acquaintance, she still could not make her way through a ‘simple’ -- she was assured -- exercise in tai chi without her friend’s lips twitching upward as she struggled not to laugh. "My own course wandered a bit before I set my sights on the Blades. Set me back a year or two, but I think I'm the better knight for the detour." Not to mention the Shaws weren’t exactly fighter stock to begin with. "Even if they're just building a basic framework of knowledge, it's another card in the deck." “I believe some measure of exploration can only benefit one’s growth,” she agreed. There were few who knew their course from a very early age, as she had -- and she knew that in some ways, this was her weakness. She found other ways to make up for not being particularly well-rounded, but did not deny the benefit of an education like Merrion’s. It bred adaptability. “Aye,” he said, holding the cane in his off hand and shrugging on the rest of the coat in one practiced motion, “and cross-guild trainings aren’t difficult to arrange. If experience says anything,” he said, indicating the now-empty hall with a nod as he pulled on a pair of pebbled leather gloves. “Ill-suited or no, there’s more than enough to learn that’d make the difference, if the time came.” He dipped a finger under one of the wooden pegs by the door and handed the Councilwoman her coat and scarf. She took the items off his hands, winding her large scarf around her neck and then settling her heavy cloak around her shoulders. “It is something for me to consider, perhaps,” she agreed. “An exchange of sorts would likely be well-received.” She could imagine blue and red mages alone would fill any lecture hall she booked for martial training to bursting; some mages believed in only scholastic learning, but certainly not all. She had been on the receiving end of enough sword strikes to understand how valuable physical defense could be. “I will think further on it,” she promised, “and contact you for recommendations, perhaps, if I decide to turn thought into action.” He paused before replying, and there with his shoulder to the door fixed his eyes to hers. The assessment, if that’s what it was, took hardly half a second. “Do,” he said, opening the door for his guest. “Either way. Thank you for joining us today. Will keep you abreast of any brush fires.” An eddy of crisp autumn air swirled inside, rustling dry leaves along the cobblestoned alley path before them. Peony passed by him into the cold, and the former Feldwebel let his eyes linger on the darkened hall for a moment before closing the door securely behind her. His boots and cane hit the paving stones with the faint sound of chalk on a board, and he followed the Black Mage out of the guild grounds and toward the high street, in the direction of agreed-upon tea. |