Chapter 7 - Behind the Scenes and Courtesies
About three to four hours after that tense lunch, my father offered to play a game of chess with me to test what I had learned from my mentors.
He had the board prepared in the castle living room. My father sat in the leather armchair with a relaxed posture, spinning a drink glass between his hands while adjusting the dark wooden pieces with lazy movements and without the slightest solemnity.
When the game began, I was far from being a prodigy; my movements came out stiff and sometimes I made basic mistakes that I immediately regretted as soon as I moved the piece.
My father did not forgive carelessness, swallowing my pieces with a side smile and an irritating lightness, but to my relief, the dreaded punishment did not come. When he finally nailed checkmate with the queen with a low laugh, he leaned back in the armchair and gave two affectionate pats on my shoulder.
— Not bad for someone who was shaking after your mother's sermon — he joked, winking one eye. — You just need to stop playing with so much fear of making mistakes, Lycon. At the festival, hesitation usually kills faster than a lack of technique.
After that day, my fivefold training officially began with the objective of preparing me for the ball and the official tournament.
While the monk squeezed out my last drop of sweat in the courtyard with an insane routine of loads and strikes to leave me at my physical limit, at the same time that my father bent over backwards to dodge my mother's demands and sharp looks, I found myself crushed between Alistair's relentless martyrdom and Cassian's suffocating etiquette. The only breathing room in the middle of that spiral of pressure was magic classes.
Although direct control of magic required exhaustive mental effort, arcane theory and the creation of geometries were my true refuge — seeing energy flow perfectly through the circuits I projected was still the only thing keeping me sane.
On the third day of that hellish training, after the end of the morning session, my parents had a quick conversation with me, just to warn me that that would be my last day of that hell. Preparation with them had reached the time limit. The next morning, I would board a carriage toward Aluvia Magna, in the heart of the state of Aluvia Prime.
They said the journey would take exactly three days across the kingdom's routes and valleys. Furthermore, as soon as we disembarked in the capital, there would remain only a single day of rest and final adjustments before the official opening of the grand nobility presentation ball.
The prospect of exchanging exhausting exercises and combat simulations for the rhythmic swaying of the carriage was a welcome relief. However, I knew well that the end of physical training did not mean the end of demands.
In the late afternoon, I heard the friction of my wagon wheels, muffled by its distance from me.
— Young master, it is time for you to leave. — Nella warned, with her professional posture unsuccessfully hiding her sadness — Have you already organized your belongings that you will take for the trip?
— Yes, I have already organized everything.
As we advanced toward Aritel's great gate, the roof of the world began to set the tone for that outbound journey. The sky, which during the height of the day shone in a vivid, translucent turquoise, was slowly thickening, draining into a deep, gloomy emerald-green. It was a magnificent and oppressive visual weight — as if a vault of liquid jewel was leaning over us, about to collapse.
The first drop hit my face even before we reached the horses.
In a matter of seconds, the emerald sky broke into a rapid, cold downpour, drumming against the courtyard stones and creating a fine mist around the carriage. The leaves of the castle trees whispered loudly under the whip of the water, adding an almost solemn drama to the moment.
There, under the entrance portico to shelter from the sudden storm, everyone was gathered.
Alistair remained with his arms crossed, rain splashing on his worn leather boots. The monk stared at me with the same severity as when he left me at the exhausted limit of the courtyard, but, for the first time, I saw a subtle nod of the head.
— Do not forget your posture on the first strike, boy — he said, his firm voice cutting through the noise of heavy drops. — If your legs falter out there, all the sweat you delivered to me here will have served for nothing. Go and show that Aritel does not raise glass nobles.
Beside him, Cassian adjusted the cuff of his immaculate robes, ignoring the moisture threatening the alignment of his attire. He stepped forward with his millimetrically polished posture.
— Etiquette is not an ornament, Master Lycon, it is an invisible armor — Cassian reminded, with a restrained smile and a gleam of genuine pride in his eyes. — Keep your head held high before royalty. The etiquette of an Aritel lord speaks even before his magic.
My mother stepped out from under the shelter, not caring about the cold mist wetting her hair. She approached, and the sharp look and constant demands of recent days gave way to a loving, almost painful rigidity. She held my face with both warm hands, staring deep into my eyes.
— Remember who you are, Lycon — she murmured with a choked voice against the sound of the passing storm. — Do not let the lights or whispers of Aluvia Magna diminish you. You were prepared for this.
My father waited his turn right behind. With his hands in his pockets and that relaxed posture of someone with nothing to do, he stepped forward in the rain. Without beating around the bush, he pulled me into a firm embrace and gave two affectionate pats on my back — the same gesture from when he nailed checkmate on the board.
— Without fear of making mistakes, son — he whispered in my ear, winking one eye as he pulled away. — Remember: hesitating in the arena or the hall kills faster than a lack of technique. Have a little fun over there too.
The servant who accompanied me there maintained her professional posture with effort, her eyes slightly bright while holding the carriage door for me.
I climbed the wooden steps and sat in the carriage. Besides me, 2 guards handpicked by my father boarded, while another 5 stayed around the carriage to protect me. As I observed them, pangs of childish concern arose in me — Won't they get tired if they walk on foot? We have a long road ahead.
As the carriage began to roll and the sound of the wheels creaked against the mud and gravel, I looked back out the window. The downpour began to subside, leaving behind the strong smell of Aritel's wet earth, while the sky, in its darker transition from emerald tone, seemed to frame the figures of my family and mentors huddled under the gate.
I spent a good few hours bored, just looking at the magic circles I had brought with me. I could always create more, but some of them would be annoying to remake if I lost them. However, when I checked the time, the sun was taking the place of the large planet we orbit, Aegis. It was already 9 PM, when the Solar Occlusion causes it to completely block the suns' rays.
— Coachman, this is a good place to camp, stop here — Said the guard closest to me.
All the guards made a round while distributing our "rations", and it could only be that indeed. The food here was beer, bread so hard you could use it as a shovel, and meat that not even my bedroom walls were as resistant to. While trying to chew these "foods", my indignation was through the roof — Why don't they use what I'm eating to build the castle?! — I thought ironically about the situation, because if I took it seriously, I could only cry.
As soon as I finished my "meal", the guards went to set up the camps for everyone to sleep. Meanwhile, I took the cue to slip away to a nearby spot with some papyrus, a brush, and magic ink, still illuminated by the campfire's glow.
— I finally found a chance to test what I wanted! — What happens when I invert the magic circle?! And can I group several magic circles to form a single one? — I reflected as I walked, almost inert to what was happening around me.
After a minute of walking, I found a good spot where no one would find me. I placed a papyrus on the ground and began painting a reverse magic circle: Instead of a square connecting to a frequency node and finally going to a terminal, my idea was to make a covered terminal that would connect to the left of a square, pulling mana into it.
My magic professor always said that, although the summary said this was possible, since there had never been anyone who managed to do it, Cassian considered it impossible, and never let me try it — Today is the day I do what I cannot!
As soon as I finished painting the last line, my circle worked. Since the mana flow of the squares flows from left to right, the surrounding mana flowed, creating a small wind vortex pulling everything into the circle. The square was getting more and more charged, and I with more and more joy because seeing that glowing blue made me realize what a huge success that was.
But my joy lasted little; the square was getting brighter and brighter and showed no intention of stopping.
— Wait... I think this is going to explode! — The vortex prevented me from altering the circle, and it was also not a good idea to mess with circles in operation. My only option was simply to sprint far away from the circle, saving as many things as possible.
After about 30 seconds, a deafening roar echoed through the forest, along with the characteristic blue explosion of mana. The shockwave of the explosion made the ground beneath my feet tremble, almost making me fall.
The guards must have already noticed the explosion — How could they not — I muttered softly to myself as I heard their voices.
— What happened?! — One of them was shouting — The young master, he is not here!
— I am definitely toast if they catch me — I thought, with that, I ran even further, because I wanted to test one last thing before heading back there.
After half an hour trying to shake off the guards, I finally found a suitable location for my second and final experiment. A spot still well-lit by torches, but poorly guarded by the sentries.
I wanted to try producing magic without needing to write them out, simply using circles I had already created. For this, I drew a simple fireball circle, along with a simple wind circle. To unite them, I used what Master Cassian said and created a large magic circle enclosing both.
I put the same amount of energy into both, probably 1 fassic in each. When they activated, the wind cleared a path for the fire to pass through, creating a huge lightning bolt several meters in diameter.
Finally satisfied with my experiments, I decided to return to where I never should have left: The camp. I was tired, but at least I had a discovery in my hands, besides almost jumping with joy.
However, when I reached the outskirts of the camp, the scene awaiting me looked like absolute chaos.
The guards were not just awake; they were in a state of military emergency. Drawn swords, torches waving frantically against the darkness of Aegis's night, and pale faces covered in sweat and mud. The captain of the small escort barked orders in a low, urgent tone while two soldiers searched the nearby vegetation.
— If the young master has been devoured by some beast or kidnapped by highway bandits, Baron Horus will skin our heads before dawn! — one of them yelled, his voice trembling with dread.
I stepped out from behind a thick bush, still wiping my hands soiled with magic ink on my tunic, with the most innocent expression I could muster.
— Good... evening? — I greeted, giving a small wave.
The silence that followed was almost palpable. The guards stopped in their tracks, torches frozen in the air, staring at me as if they had seen a ghost.
— Young master?! — The captain took three long strides toward me, grabbing me by the shoulders with a mixture of desperate relief and restrained indignation. — Where were you?! We heard a grotesque roar coming from the west, followed by a blue light! We thought we had suffered an ambush by enemy mages!
— Ah, that? — I gave an awkward smile, scratching the back of my neck. — It was just a small miscalculation in my papyri. I was studying so I wouldn't look bad at the capital tournament.
The captain blinked several times, looking at me, then at the forest from which a faint smell of ozone and burned vegetation was coming, and finally at the gloomy emerald sky. He let out a deep sigh, running his hand over his exhausted face.
— By the gods... You nearly gave us a heart attack — he grumbled, sheathing his sword with a dry click. — Please, Master Lycon. Get in the carriage or stay near the campfire. No more "studying" for today, or we won't make it alive to Aluvia Magna.
I was escorted back to the campfire under the watchful and suspicious gazes of the guards, who were now watching me more as if I were a prisoner than Aritel's heir.
When I lay down in my cabin, the earlier exhaustion finally took over my body. My eyelids were growing heavy, until sleep finally overcame me while I listened to the sound of the wind howling through the treetops.
The rest of the journey passed without further shocks or explosive experiments. Over the next two days, the escort maintained an almost paranoid vigilance around the carriage, ensuring I didn't have the slightest opening to slip away among the trees with my papers and inks. The advance followed the monotonous rhythm of the wheels chewing up the dirt road. Since the soldiers marching on foot were not made of iron, the pace was punctuated by recurring rest stops. Thus, between marches and pauses, we crossed Aritel's borders and entered the increasingly busy valleys leading to the central lands.
At the end of the third day, the imposing walls of Aluvia Magna finally appeared on the horizon under the turquoise glow of dusk. The traffic of noble carriages and banners from various fiefs announced the scale of the event to come.
As soon as the capital's gates were left behind, we were led through the bustling streets of Aluvia Magna to the official inn reserved for the festival's entourages. The building was a monumental three-story structure, erected in polished stone and noble wood, with the royal banner hoisted at the top. The inner courtyard was packed with ornate carriages, hurried servants carrying chests, and guards from different fiefs exchanging suspicious glances, revealing that the region's elite was already settling under the same roof.
The interior exuded the typical sophistication of the capital, with crystal chandeliers reflecting light in soft tones and wide carpeted hallways that muffled footsteps. I was guided to the quarters designated for Aritel's entourage: a spacious suite equipped with oak furniture and a spacious desk, ideal for spreading out my papers and papyri. Although the environment was impeccable and offered the necessary comfort to recover strength, the atmosphere there was dense; just a minute in the lobby was enough to feel the curious glances and silent evaluations of the other nobles about everyone arriving.
While part of my attention went to the smallest details like the sophistication of my room compared to the previous camps, I unpacked my things from the chest. Seen from the outside, it didn't look like it held much. There were only a few personal belongings of mine in the chest, more complex magic circles — which would be difficult to copy from memory — and materials to create new magic circles.
I spread these materials on the desk while organizing my belongings to review all the circles I had in a mental to-do list.
— Fireball... Okay. Wind gusts... Okay. The lightning I made before... It's here too. Smaller mana explosions... Okay.
With everything prepared, I could just relax, preparing myself mentally and physically for the ball and the tournament.
The next day dawned with daylight cutting through the cracks of the bedroom window. The tranquility of having my spells reviewed the night before lasted little; as soon as the sun began to rise, the inn turned into a veritable hornet's nest of activity.
However, without my mother or Cassian around to manage the tiniest details with elegance, the mission of preparing myself for the ball ended up turning into a small bureaucratic nightmare. The one who ended up taking on the role of "inspector" was the guard captain himself, and the experience was testing the limits of my patience.
— Master Lycon, the collar on the left side is a bit lower than the right. Adjust that, please. And the fold of the cloak... no, it's crooked again like that — the captain grumbled for the tenth time, walking around me while inspecting my attire with the rigidity of someone looking for a flaw in a combat formation.
— By the gods, why did they leave me at the mercy of dressing myself! — And with someone as rigid as Cassian in etiquette?! AAAAH — I thought to myself, holding back a sigh of the purest indignation and frustration I had ever experienced.
— Captain, it's just a blue tunic with silver threads, not plate armor — I complained in a low tone, adjusting the fabric brutally. — No one in the hall is going to walk around with a ruler to measure the alignment of my collar.
— The Baron explicitly told me that if you appeared sloppy before the other nobles, the blame would fall on me — the captain retorted, frowning with the ugly face of someone who was also losing their mind over the situation. — Adjust Aritel's crest again, please.
After a few more minutes of pure mutual annoyance and restrained grumbling, he finally gave in and nodded, although he looked displeased. I looked at the gold-framed mirror in the corner of the room. The boy reflected there, wearing the fief's colors and the crest embedded on his chest, looked ready for the hall, although inside I just wanted that theater of etiquette to end once and for all.
Even before the ball actually began, we had to greet all the nobles there. All these formalities took a full hour, and I only didn't collapse right there because my parents would skin me alive if I did.
As soon as I finally managed to greet everyone at the ball, I leaned back in a more secluded corner of the ballroom — Heavens, why did they create these formalities. I just wanted to disappear from here for a few minutes — I was thinking, already desperate over the formalities, not knowing when the blessed magic tournament was going to begin.
Although my head was an authentic chaos of curses and insults directed at all beings on the planet, the buzz around me caught my attention: some conversations, which should have been kept secret, leaked straight into my ears.
— Hey, hey, did you hear? — whispered a voice, likely a lady — A prodigy from a foreign kingdom created an extremely sweet brownish powder great for cooking!
— Seriously?! — Another, sweeter voice let out a short, muffled gasp before cutting her speech abruptly.
— Yes! — The first person replied — Besides that, he managed to create an extremely salty white crystal. Not to mention a bar that cleans all your skin or serves to wash clothes!
— Goodness... — The second person said, trying to find words for what she had just heard — If this is really true, it will revolutionize the world's cuisine! — Which country is this prodigy from? — As soon as she finished the question, a third voice, more arrogant and shrill, answered her.
— Well... He belongs to the kingdom of Eudoria.
— They beat me to the punch... — I suffer so much yet I couldn't create an innovation! If I don't push myself for this, I'll be left in the shadows of this so-called "prodigy"... — I thought. A knot in my stomach was forming within me, because I hadn't done anything, while someone else was already doing everything long before I even had a chance.
— Well, now I have to win these tournaments. — I whispered lightly to myself, making sure no one would hear this.
My thoughts were interrupted when several shrill trumpet sounds echoed throughout the hall — They want to kill someone with this noise! — I thought, covering my ears.
Then, a large, robust man in full knightly armor with a noble cape broke into the ball and announced.
— Ladies and gentlemen, nobles of Aluvia! — the knight began, his cavernous voice resonating through the inn's stone walls and instantly silencing the laughter and whispers. — Under the watchful eye of the crown and the sacred vault of our sky, I declare the official beginning of our trials!
He made a brief pause, allowing silence to dominate the crowded hall before continuing.
— What gathers us under this roof is not merely the shine of velvet, jewels, or the ostentation of our families' crests. Today, the youth of our nobility will put to the test everything they have absorbed from their masters. There will be no room for hesitation or false appearances. The schedule of this festival was designed to test the limit of the mind, body, and spirit of every youth presenting themselves here!
— However... The journey begins today! — the knight proclaimed, his powerful voice echoing through the hall. — At this very moment, we will open the doors of the grand auditorium for the first contest of our youth: the Magic Tournament! May the young masters of circuits and conjurations prepare their minds and prove the strength of their control in the arena!
He made a slight pause, sweeping his firm gaze over all the young nobles present.
— In the days that follow, tests of intellect, precision, and body will continue! We will face tactical reasoning in the Chess Tournament, the mastery of beasts in the Falconry Tournament, strategic management in the Great Harvest, agility in the Archery Tournament, and finally, the clash of steel in the Fencing Tournament! Raise your goblets and witness the glory of our nobility!
