Chapter 5 – A Dictionary for Breakfast
Chapter 5 – A Dictionary at Breakfast
The next day, while I was trying to survive yet another session of torture disguised as routine training with Alistair — dragging my battered body through the dust under the merciless surveillance of the monk — an unusual commotion at the castle gates broke the cruel routine of my exercises: the sound of a refined carriage's wheels cutting through the courtyard's gravel, accompanied by an unusual uproar among the servants.
Shortly after, a castle guard ran up to my professor and whispered something in his ear.
— Lycon, we'll need to stop! — irrompest Alistair, with his usual loud and rigid voice. — We have a special visitor today.
He began to walk toward the guard, signaling for me to follow them.
The first thing I noticed was the way he had spoken to me — He never called me by my name... — Anyway, whoever this visit is, it came at a great time — I thought, breaking my push-up position and starting to follow him.
We quickened our pace across the stone courtyard, ignoring the nagging pain in my legs and the accumulated fatigue. Thanks to this small run, we managed to reach the entrance hall in time to find my parents next to the grand door, exactly as they were concluding their formal greetings to the newcomers. Beside a middle-aged man with an impeccable posture, there was also a boy two or three years older than me, focused and serious-looking.
— You are very welcome to our home — said my mother, maintaining an impeccable posture and a courteous smile. — We were looking forward to Your Lordship's arrival.
The monk made a respectful bow to everyone present:
— With due permission, I ask the honor of knowing the identity of our distinguished visitors.
His formal and humble posture irritated me deeply, because I knew very well that, on a day-to-day basis, my professor was anything but gentle.
The elegantly mannered man adjusted his tunic and replied in a calm, measured voice:
— I thank you all for the warm reception. I am Cassian de Lagrande, the tutor hired for young master Lycon's instruction. And this beside me is Silas, my disciple.
My mother beamed at his impeccable manners. She gave a noble nod in confirmation, and my new professor continued:
— If you'll permit me, I would like to observe your son's behavior and aptitudes. I need this assessment to structure his study plan.
However, to my misfortune, the monk meddled in the middle of the conversation:
— If I may say a word... — said Alistair, waiting for my parents' assent before proceeding. — At the moment, I am conducting young master Lycon's physical training, so theoretical classes cannot take place right now. However, if Your Lordship has time, I invite you to witness my training with the boy.
Master Cassian merely nodded positively, while my professor was already preparing us to return to the exercises — It had to be this cursed monk! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't need to do any more exercises!!! — I exploded in my thoughts, my anger only not showing because the risk of punishment was greater.
As soon as we reached the place where we train, without even waiting for me to catch my breath, Alistair thundered with his thunderous voice — Let's start the 30 push-ups and 30 sit-ups all over again! Move, boy! —
I was already preparing myself mentally for the muscle massacre when Master Cassian took a firm step forward, raising one hand in an elegant gesture of interruption.
— Stop, Mister Alistair. I ask you to cease this torment immediately.
The monk frowned, visibly annoyed by the interference. Cassian, however, maintained a serene countenance, although the disgust in his tone of voice was unmistakable:
— A young heir to the nobility should not be treated like a recruit in an infantry camp. Demanding him to the point of exhaustion in the mud not only compromises the boy's physical integrity, but also destroys any trace of posture and elegance that we should cultivate in him. Deliberate pain and excess do not teach manners nor do they prepare the mind for high arcane science. As an educator, I refuse to witness such cruelty disguised as training.
Alistair, visibly bothered by Cassian's interference, pondered a good excuse in his mind, and then blurted out — Before, I was nice, I demanded less of him, but after he made an animal waste trap, I and his parents agreed to the boy's punishment. — He gave a small pause, repositioning himself, and then continued — Besides, the body needs to be broken for the mind to learn to respect discipline. That's what turns a spoiled brat into someone useful. —
Cassian did not back down, remaining firm in his position — A regrettable and ill-mannered act on the boy's part, no doubt — conceded Cassian, glancing briefly at me before returning his focus to Alistair. — However, answer me sincerely: do you really believe that applying physical torture will make a child understand the gravity of a breach of etiquette? A youngster's reaction to brutality is rebellion, and this trap was the direct fruit of the resentment that your training sowed in him.
— And as for your thesis that the body must be punished to make it useful, I fear you are confusing education with martyrdom. Extreme physical exhaustion does not eliminate laziness; it merely destroys the capacity for reasoning and brutifies the spirit. Magic and etiquette demand intellect, self-control, and elegance, virtues that are not born from pain or humiliation in the dust. I will not allow the boy's arcane training to be impaired by such primitive thinking.
Hearing this discussion, I began to feel a sliver of hope that the training could at least be alleviated — Finally, I have someone who pities me! — I thought, forgetting that my mother was also worried for the same reason.
Alistair, unaccustomed to hearing such long explanations, replied — Would you prefer me to use a birch rod or whipping?! This punishment has a deadline, and the effects are already noticeable. His physique is perfect for his age, and I've locked him into a routine now. I guarantee you the results of his education will be great. —
Then he turned to me, noticing that I was just listening to the fight.
— Lycon... — He said, with a tone exclaiming his lack of patience — Just do the exercises, or the penalty is whipping! —
Upon hearing the threat of aggression, Master Cassian didn't even change his expression, but a glint of subtle indignation crossed his eyes. Without fanfare, he simply took a step forward. The air around his hands seemed to vibrate for a thousandth of a second — an almost imperceptible, yet crystal-clear demonstration of pure arcane authority.
— Whipping? — asked Cassian, with a calm as sharp as a blade of ice. — Do you truly believe you are in a torture camp for commoners, Alistair?
The monk took an involuntary step back at the veiled pressure the preceptor exuded. Cassian continued, keeping his hands peacefully clasped behind his back:
— The use of corporal punishment against an heir is not only a crime of disrespect to his contractors' house; it is the explicit confession of your inability to make yourself understood through reason. A Mage's physique is not molded by the fear of pain, but rather by the mastery of will and inner discipline.
Alistair took a step back, trying to compose himself, clearly frustrated, and a drop of sweat — which I had never even seen him have during my exercises — fell from his forehead.
— You have no power for this, Mister Cassian, though I agree that the whipping penalty was a mistake of mine. That was only to exemplify how cruel I could be with the training. —
Hearing this, I couldn't believe it — He said he made a mistake in something?! I've never seen that! — I thought, surprised, not knowing how to move at that moment. However, to my displeasure, Alistair soon continued.
— The River Charter contains no rule prohibiting the free education of its heirs, and his parents agreed to my training. I ask you to confine yourself to your training, for mine shall remain unchanged. — He replied, to him the discussion was nothing more than an inconvenience, and his features made that quite clear.
Master Cassian raised an eyebrow, observing the drop of sweat trickling down Alistair's forehead. A subtle, glacial smile appeared on his lips upon realizing the monk was cornered.
— You admit that you resorted to the threat of cruelty as a pedagogical resource and, immediately afterward, seek shelter in the bureaucracy of the River Charter? — questioned Cassian, with overwhelming calm. — This contradiction only confirms how precarious your control over his teaching is.
— Young Lycon's parents agreed to a physical discipline routine, not to a torment that turns my classroom into a convalescent ward. — Cassian swallowed the saliva that had accumulated after talking so much, almost giving room for the monk to retort, but he continued his speech, leaving no openings for him — If your method remains unchanged, the boy's ability to absorb arcane theory will be null. And I guarantee you that the nobility does not tolerate seeing its financial resources wasted by an instructor's obstinacy. — Alistair stepped back another step, as if losing, but Cassian continued — This is not about disputing authority, but pedagogical viability. A battered body generates a dulled mind. Therefore, we will adjust this schedule in the presence of our contractors. If you believe your word and cruel methods carry more weight than young Lycon's integrity, I invite you to accompany us to Lord Horus and Lady Isis at this very moment to clear the matter up.
The monk nodded — Let's see how far this goes. —
With that I stood there, not knowing what to think for a good few minutes until my head started working — Wait... What happened? Professor Cassian fought with Alistair so... I could do fewer push-ups?! —
As soon as I digested the situation, I collapsed onto the stone floor the way I always do whenever I feel like I'm going to die of exhaustion. I stayed there, motionless, until I noticed a shadow approaching: a boy my age, dressed in fancy aristocratic clothes and a posture so erect he looked like he had swallowed a board.
— Your chest is collapsed and your atypical breathing compromises air circulation — said the boy, completely ignoring the fact that I had just survived twenty millimetrically perfect push-ups. — If you'll permit my audacity, Master Cassian disapproves of a hunched posture, even after manual chores.
In my state of near brain-melting, the only thing I managed to process from that tangle of difficult terms was that he was criticizing the way I sat.
— Did he eat a dictionary for breakfast? — I thought, before gathering the strength to speak to him — You don't have to talk so formally with me! I don't like that — I commented, still panting as the adrenaline wore off. — It's my habit.
— It's your habit to be sloppy? — he inquired, with an irritatingly provocative tone that made me want to throw a stone at him.
— But I'm not sloppy! I just want to rest, damn it!
— Then rest properly — he said, with a disdainful wrinkle of his nose.
With a nonchalant snap of his fingers, a puff of clean air enveloped my body. In a second, my clothes and skin were completely stripped of all sweat and accumulated dirt, giving me a wonderful sensation of instantaneous renewal. I looked at myself, shocked.
— How did you manage to do that?! You didn't even use a magic circle! — I asked, staring at his hands.
— I just used magic to clean you — he replied, looking at me as if I had asked how to walk on two feet.
— But what about the magic circle?!
— Is it necessary? You just need willpower and it works — he retorted again with the utmost naturalness in the world.
That sounded like a personal insult. I looked at a dry leaf lying on the stone floor, stared at the small piece of matter with all my mental strength, and tried to imitate him, ordering the leaf to levitate. I concentrated until my eyes almost popped out of their sockets and my veins bulged. The most I managed to do was make the leaf tremble and move a meager two millimeters on the gravel.
Silas stared at the leaf, then looked at my face reddened from futile effort, and blurted out with genuine perplexity:
— How strange... I guess you just don't like magic, which is why you can't do it.
— You come to me with an extraordinary feat and then tell me that “you just need will and it works?!” My will is to throw a stone at— Right after that, Professor Cassian came up to me, having heard everything I said.
— You feel like throwing a stone at whom? — He asked me ironically, his sharp eyes narrowed.
— At nobody, nobody! — I said, trying to brush it off, but he didn't fall for it — And this "nobody," perchance, is the person next to you? It behooves you to exercise due self-control over your emotions, since I will not tolerate a new display of discourtesy.
Silas had a corner-of-the-mouth smile while I took the professor's reprimand — Great, now I have a cruel teacher who makes me do countless exercises and another one where one wrong word and I get scolded... — I thought, indignant at the situation — I wish I had the power to vanish from the country — I grumbled so softly that not even the professor heard.
— Anyway, I came to meet you to inform you that your physical training with Mister Alistair has been duly adjusted. You will be subjected to his routine only every other day, ensuring the necessary time for your body to recover. On the alternating days, I myself will take charge of your instruction in the arcane art. Rest, therefore, because I will demand your mind awake and dedicated. — Upon hearing this from my professor, my body almost leaped with joy — YAY! I'll finally be able to rest properly! —
After that unbelievable sequence of twists and turns, I walked toward my room with a triumphant smile that seemed to tear my face from ear to ear. With every step I took through the silent corridors of the castle, the stone floor felt suddenly lighter and more welcoming, as if my feet barely touched the surface. An indescribable sensation of pure relief bubbled inside my chest, making the last vestige of that oppressive fatigue dissipate completely.
I couldn't stop replaying every second of that fight in my head.
— He sweated! Alistair actually sweated from nerves! — I thought, feeling a shiver of pure satisfaction run down my spine. — That implacable monk, who seemed made of hard stone and without a shred of compassion... almost swallowed his own tongue in front of Master Cassian! —
— A whole day off every training session. A whole day to recover! — I celebrated mentally, unable to contain a victorious little smile. — Farewell, daily martyrdom! I survived! —
Having this rest for my body already felt like a luxury fit for a king, but the perspective of what was to come on alternating days made my heart race with excitement. I was finally going to learn real magic, under the tutelage of someone who didn't think the body needed to be battered to function.
When I finally crossed the threshold of my room, I closed the door behind me and threw myself backward onto the bed. I stared at the ceiling while hugging the pillow, laughing alone in the silence of my refuge. The day that had begun under the threat of cruel punishments and physical pain had ended with the gleaming promise of a new beginning. I finally had someone willing to defend me, and magic, once seen only as a distant obligation, now seemed the threshold of the greatest journey of my life.
On the first day under this new regime, Alistair made a point of exacting in advance every minute he would lose on subsequent days, subjecting me to an even more brutal and merciless physical training than usual. As if my dust-battered body wasn't enough, I was dragged without pause straight into Quadrivium studies. The monk laid his hand down especially on astronomy lessons, forcing me to memorize the mechanics of the stars to learn to identify the exact time just by observing the inclination and position of the sun.
The following day, although he complied with the order to suspend body exercises, Alistair gave no quarter whatsoever to my mind. He dedicated full time to an exhaustive quizzing to consolidate solar reading, testing my accuracy with every change of shadow in the courtyard. Through a painful process of sheer persistence and intellectual suffering, I finally managed to master the method and decipher the hours by the sky, conquering the first stage of this new routine before facing my eagerly awaited magic training.
Today is already the day for me to finally learn to use magic. As far as I knew, my magic and etiquette professor would be in the same place as Alistair, I just didn't know the exact time. Even with my anxiety, I ate calmly, without making the mistake of a few months ago that made me almost throw up everything.
As soon as I finished, I went, as always, before the sunrise, hoping my professor would be there. He hadn't told me an exact time, so I, as usual, assumed it would be the same as the monk's, before the sunrise.
I couldn't have been more wrong. When I got there, there was only a wall where my professor should be. I waited, and waited, and waited, but he didn't show up.
After a good long wait, I spotted the silhouette of my professor, and someone else, probably Silas; I observed the sun with my new knowledge.
— I wish he weren't useful, but he is — It's already about 8 o'clock... Only now he shows up?! — I thought, indignant with my professor since my morning schedule was before sunrise.
— Well, look at that. I confess I am pleasantly surprised, young Lycon. I didn't tell you the exact hour we should meet because I intended precisely to evaluate how you would handle uncertainty. And yet, here you are, perfectly punctual and ready to begin.
Silas, as soon as the professor finished speaking, said — Cool. You aren't like those arrogant nobles I've seen who don't even respect other people's time.
I was genuinely happy for the compliment, even though I didn't like the person who said it. Before saying anything, I leaned against the wall to stand up and be in a proper position to speak — Professor, you left me waiting for about 3 hours, is that what being punctual means to you? —
— Punctuality, young Lycon, consists of being in the right place at the exact moment, and not in spending three hours wearing out your tunic against a wall due to uncertainty. That only shows me you didn't use the sun to calculate the time, but rather preferred to err on the side of excessive caution.
I was even planning some response, but Cassian sketched a slight, enigmatic smile, interrupting what I was planning to say. Then he said:
— However, your willingness to wait patiently without abandoning your post demonstrates a self-control that I appreciate. Consider this your first lesson: in magic, impatience is as destructive as tardiness. Now that you've rested your legs waiting, can we begin?
I gave a slight nod before he continued — Then let's start with sorcery — My professor led us to a wider area, which was the exact same one where I used to train with Alistair, and pointed out — For our first task, young Lycon, I will choose a specific leaf on the ground. Your objective will be to concentrate your attention exclusively on it and try to lift it.
— Isn't this the same thing Silas told me to do? — I thought, but didn't recognize it immediately due to Cassian's polished language.
However, the task was just as difficult as the monk's calisthenics. It took an hour for me to even manage to lift the leaf properly.
As soon as I managed to stabilize the leaf properly, he answered me with a deep, disappointed sigh — A whole hour to move a single leaf... Although this is within average for someone without training, I admit I expected a considerably more agile performance from your mind. I didn't come all this way to cultivate mediocrity.
Cassian sighed again, but imperceptibly, and crossed his hands behind his back, looking away from the leaf I was struggling so hard to keep in the air:
— Since your intuition and pure will prove slow, we will waste no more time trying to force them. We will change approach and move immediately to the theoretical structure of arcane circles, where precision and logic dictate the rules.
He took a step toward me, fixing his sharp eyes on me:
— However, to kick off this study, I need to confirm a fundamental question. Answer me sincerely, young Lycon: can you read?
— Yes, I can read. — I said, thinking — The barony children didn't know how to write... I guess Alistair's grueling training in this part did me a lot of good.
— Great. In that case, your mind will have work to do — Right after that he handed me a tome with 5 sheets and a light cover to protect them, titled Summary Tomes II and III Basic Magic.
— In these five sheets, I have gathered the essential content extracted from Tomes II and III, ancient texts recovered from archaeological excavations. In them you will find the theory on the rosette of elements, the interaction between the forces of nature, and the basic engineering for constructing magic circles. Read each page with absolute attention. I will explain absolutely nothing until you have completed this reading and understood the logic written on these pages. When you're done, we'll talk.
As soon as he finished speaking I sat on the stone floor and cast my gaze upon the tome. I read reasonably well, but still took my time, so I spent about 30 minutes reading the tome. It was written in Aluvian and explained in a simple way how the Rosette of elements works, the difference between a mage and a sorcerer, and how magic circles work.
When I finished reading, I carefully closed the book, when Silas appeared. I hadn't even noticed him leave, let alone Cassian.
— A moment, Silas. Perchance was your curiosity great enough to make you forget good manners and respect for Lycon's study space?
— Forgive me, Master Cassian, I was just curious to know why you gave such a complex tome to Lycon, who has barely begun his studies. — Silas said, with a worried expression on his face, thinking I didn't understand the content. That was when I intervened, saying:
— Since when is this complex?! I just didn't quite understand the part about element combinations, since there are countless, but I understood the difference between a mage and a sorcerer and the magic circles perfectly.
— Remarkable... Admitting the complexity of elemental combinations while absorbing the structure of the circles demonstrates, at the least, that you read attentively and recognize your own limits.
My professor cast a calm yet firm look at Silas before saying:
— Your concern, though well-intentioned, proved precipitous, Silas. Resume your composure.
Right after, he took a step toward me.
— If the engineering of arcane circuits is clear to you, answer me without hesitation: what is the primary function of Frequency Nodes within a basic circle?
— It serves to give an element to mana, right? Mana has no element so they need these nodes for that, right? Otherwise you just cast pure mana... — I think a bit, and after that continue answering Cassian — It would be interesting for example to create a square and connect it directly to the line terminal, wouldn't it? It would give a mana cut. —
Master Cassian listened to my answer in silence. A brief second of quiet hung in the air as he processed not only the correct definition, but my logical deduction.
— Exactly. Mana in its raw state is a neutral reagent; without the Frequency Node, it has no elemental signature. — Then he put his hands behind his back before answering my idea — And as for your proposal to connect the Square directly to the Line Terminal... your deduction is remarkable, young Lycon. Most apprentices let themselves be blinded by flames and lightning, forgetting that the circuit responds only to geometry and conduction. What you just described is, theoretically, the purest and most efficient way to project a raw mana blade, without the thermal wear or energy cost of elemental conversions.
As soon as I heard my professor's official confirmation via pompous words, I filled with joy — So let's test it?! —
— Moderation in your reactions, young man! Excitement is the first step toward loss of focus, and a millimeter deviation in your stroke can cause your "mana blade" to blow up right in your own face.
My professor pointed his finger toward the gravel near me, and then said:
— If your mind has already grasped the theory, now it's time to test your manual precision and inner stability. Take the marking stick and start drawing the circuit. Let's see if your hands keep up with the clarity of your thoughts.
I knelt on the gravel, trying to contain the trembling in my hands and the rapid beating of my chest. I grabbed the marking stick firmly and, remembering Cassian's warning about how excitement could ruin precision, let out a long sigh to calm myself. I rested my wrist and began to scratch the ground with the utmost caution I could muster.
The locks and parallels of the Square turned out perfect, and the straight line of the Terminal looked like it had been made with a ruler, it was so firm. The internal geometry was impeccable, exactly as I had visualized in my head.
The real trouble came when closing the structure. I tried to draw the outer delimitation ring as tight and uniform as possible, contouring the matrix in a single continuous movement. But my free hand faltered mid-curve, the stroke slipped out of control, and the symmetry went completely out the window.
When I stood up and stepped back to admire my work, disappointment hit instantly: although the interior was surgical, the outer border bore no resemblance to the perfection of the tome's diagrams. It was visibly deformed, pointed at the top and flattened at the bottom — looking much more like an awkward egg drawn in the dust than a true arcane circle.
Silas, looking at this, was surprised by my drawing, even though it wasn't very good — Wow... When Cassian tried to make me draw circles, I could only manage straight lines. Even my square comes out crooked. — To me, this was something positive. My first impression of him wasn't good, and I think it's especially nice when I win a compliment from him.
— What happened here is evident: you saw the internal geometry align and allowed haste and enthusiasm to take control of your wrist at the most critical moment. A delimitation ring is not a decorative frame; it is the vessel that dams and balances mana. By turning the circle into an egg, you created points of deformation where pressure will accumulate in an uncontrolled manner. — He managed to kill my fun in a few seconds.
I swallowed hard, looking at the oval shape on the stone floor while imagining the havoc of a magic collapse in my face. I erased the crooked border quickly with my foot, dragging the gravel until the surface was smooth again.
I took a deep breath, reined in the anxiety in my chest, and steadied my wrist. This time, I maintained the same attention from start to finish, contouring the internal matrix until I closed a perfect, clean, and symmetrical outer ring.
Upon composing myself, I faced Master Cassian, awaiting approval. He looked at the drawing on the ground for a few moments and shook his head in a restrained manner.
— Much better. The precision of your hand now matches the logic of your mind — said he, with his usual serene tone. However, he took half a step forward and faced me with a sharp gaze. — Nevertheless, tell me one thing, young Lycon... If the drawing is perfect, what would happen if you tried to channel your mana into this engraving on the gravel right now?
I was surprised by the question. For a moment, I thought of saying that the mana blade would finally fire. But then the lines of the tome I had just read flashed in my memory, specifically the excerpt about material conductivity.
— Nothing — I replied, nodding to myself as the answer became clear. — Absolutely nothing would happen. The circuit would remain completely dead.
Silas frowned, but Cassian merely raised an eyebrow, encouraging me to continue.
— Gravel, dust, and the wooden stick are inert materials — I continued, feeling a twinge of pride for having memorized the detail. — The tome clearly states that magical energy does not flow without conductivity. For a circuit to actually work, it requires inks with arcane affinity or deep engravings in conductive alloys. Gravel is only good for drafting.
For the first time since he arrived at the castle, I saw a slight smile of genuine approval appear on Master Cassian's lips.
— Excellent — declared he, crossing his hands behind his back. — You not only memorized the geometry, but understood the physics of conduction. Silas thought the tome was too advanced for you, but you proved you read not just with your eyes, but with your intellect.
He reached inside his refined robe and pulled out a small reinforced glass vial, filled with a silvery liquid that shone softly in the sunlight, accompanied by a soft leather ribbon and a fine-tipped brush.
— Training in the dust is over, Lycon — said Cassian, extending the vial toward me while his gaze turned solemn. — Take the conductive ink. It's time to find out if your first mana blade will exist only on paper... or if you really have what it takes to cut the air. It is time to demonstrate, boy!!!
