Training & Spar

Gracia stands at the lectern. Libarius, meanwhile, sits in the corner in a chair nearby, grasping at the top of his cane, clearly uninterested in her lecture. She reaches a place she can pause, and glances towards Libarius. She weighs her options quickly, then addresses the class.

“Well then, let’s use the rest of class to train.”

Libarius stands up excitedly, the most enthusiastic of anyone. As everyone starts to leave, Gracia pulls Libarius aside. He looks at her, puzzled.

“Is something the matter, Gracia?”

“Are you… okay?”

“Of course I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Why are you asking?”

“You’ve been sitting in the corner playing with your cane.”

“Ah, that. It’s simply dreadfully boring otherwise. You see, Gracia, each day has been hectic since I was taken from my research, and only now has it begun to calm. I had never known how boring life without magic is. How the canailles live like this is truly confounding.”

“That’s all? Well, that’s why I decided we should start training, so that’s good.”

“If only our students weren’t utterly dull.”

Gracia sighs as the two of them leave for the training field. When they arrive, Libarius immediately begins to talk.

“I’ve decided to devote my efforts towards Favonius today. Gracia, instruct the rest of them. Given what I’ve seen, the training ought to be focused on the efficiency of their magical circuits.”

Having given his order, Libarius begins to walk a short distance away from the rest of the students. Uneasily, Favonius follows after him. Libarius looks at the slender boy, his pale green hair tied back and his dark pink eyes unable to meet Libarius’. Before Libarius can say anything, Favonius asks a question.

“Mr. Mitis, before we begin, can I ask why you decided to start with me?” Libarius answers bluntly.

“Random chance.”

“That’s really all? Well, what should I do?”

“First you must properly understand where your weaknesses lie. The main weakness I identified in the two spells I’ve seen is potency. You heavily lack it. Your spells are like a gentle breeze through a meadow, even though you have no lack of power to put behind it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your spells are incredibly weak in spite of the fact that you have, if anything, an above average amount of magic power at your disposal. It’s a fascinating mismatch.”

“So what am I supposed to do about it?”

“That’s truly where it becomes most interesting. First we must discover the cause of the problem, as the solution will change depending. And with that, Favonius, do you have any ideas about the underlying cause?”

“Well, I don’t want to hurt anyone, so maybe that.”

“Quoth the Grand Sage: ‘A mind bound to a weak spirit is blind, the image hazy, the magic hampered.’ It’s a likely hypothesis; magic is far weaker if your will has been broken, after all. It gladdens me that I had decided to train you first. Solving this minor problem ought to show immediate results, yet solving it requires your own efforts. It’s best that this much time has been afforded to you.”

“What do I do to solve it?”

“If it’s truly just mental, then all that is required is that you get over it.”

“I don’t think that’s really that easy.”

“Is it not? I wouldn’t know. To cast magic at all is such a great blessing that I’ve never had to grapple with its pursuit. I have no proper strategies for you if you’re struggling, so I suppose you ought to just clear your mind and fire off spells until you come to a realization.” Libarius thinks of something. “Favonius, fire off a spell, and I shall approximate a model of what you ought to be able to accomplish.”

“Yes sir.”

Favonius casts a spell into the sky. It’s just a small burst of air. Libarius, right after, points a finger forward and casts the spell. He carefully manages the magic power in his body, weaving it carefully through his magic circuits to match Favonius, to stop his overwhelming amount of power from spilling out. The wind blasts out. If not for his keen senses for magic, Libarius could never have seen Favonius’ attempt. Yet as Libarius casts it, the spell is sucking in air from around itself, kicking up winds. Although it should be a weak spell, hardly useful for much of anything, the wind blows, rustling Favonius’ hair. The bottom of Libarius’ oversized jacket gets blown around wildly so close to the source. The winds die down.

“Mr. Mitis, there’s no way that that was the same spell.”

“It must be. I can only cast the spells I’ve just seen.”

“Is that so…”

“Then you ought to begin casting it.”

“Yes sir.”

As Favonius begins to repeatedly cast the spell into the sky, Libarius leans on his cane and watches. Meanwhile, Victoria breaks away from the class group when she notices his lax state. She approaches Libarius.

“Mr. Mitis, you’re quite strong, aren’t you? Physically speaking, that is?”

“I suppose I am, this dreadful injury of mine notwithstanding.” She glances down at his leg, but does not reconsider making her request.

“Are you skilled in swordplay, by any chance?”

“To say I am skilled is much too far, but I have held one several times, and I’ve watched my father use his quite a few times as well.”

“Your father, is he Salvo Mitis?”

“…Yes. That is him, yes.”

“Would it be alright for us to spar?”

“I can barely walk and barely cast a spell.”

“Ah, actually, I would prefer it if we didn’t use magic during our spar. But I suppose your injury is too much for that.” Libarius pulls a slip of paper from within his pocket.

“If this spell works as I intend it to, I ought to be able to fight for as long as you can maintain it.”

“What does it do?”

“It serves as the muscle and tendon that I’m missing. I abandoned it for practical use as there would be nobody to cast it on me, but if it’s only for a short time it ought to work fine.”

“I see. Then, can I make you a sword?” Libarius’ pitch black eyes light up slightly.

“Ah, a novel spell at last. Please do so.” Libarius recalls the greatsword once wielded by the Tyrant. “I would prefer it if it were around 175 centimeters in length and flame-bladed.”

“Are you sure, sir? Isn’t that taller than you are?”

“It ought to be fine.”

“Very well” Victoria holds out a hand, the sword emerging out of the ground. She then begins to read off the lengthy incantation scrawled on the slip of paper. Libarius turns towards Favonius, still dutifully casting spells.

“Favonius, turn your attention here. If all goes well, you should be able to see the basic premise of casting a spell with a clear mind in more concrete terms. You ought to continue casting the spell as you watch.”

Favonius looks over. As he feels his leg begin to strengthen, the magical muscle forming, Libarius drives his cane into the ground. He takes a confident step forward and takes the sword from Victoria. Though it is long and heavy, with his incredible physical prowess, Libarius wields it with a single hand. Victoria draws her own sword and begins their spar.

Victoria dashes forward with a thrust, but is parried by Libarius. She attempts to circle around him and wear him down with quick stabs, but he continues to deftly maneuver the long blade to block her, barely turning his body as he does.

Libarius cleaves with his blade in a circle around him, forcing Victoria to dash back. Before she can fully recover her stance, he is already upon her. He steps forward strongly and begins to bring down his blade. Instinctively, Victoria starts to shy away.

Meanwhile, Favonius feels the breeze picking up near him. He returns his focus to his spells, which he had been able to continue casting with little difficulty. Each blast of wind is stronger now, as Libarius had anticipated. Before Favonius can take joy in the fact, however, he hears a pained gasp.

Victoria, the long blade and Libarius’ intimidating presence bearing down on her, loses concentration on the spell, the image vanishing from her mind. Libarius gasps in pain and falls to the ground, clutching at his leg that he had been standing so firmly upon just moments earlier.