“There are several critical parts to shaping each spell under the Ceretian school of magic, which the university for some reason insists on not teaching you until your second year. The primary components are the frame, the fuel, and the spark.”

Professor Lasi had chosen the stadium where he’d taught his Structuring Spells lesson to tutor me. The tip of the sun was almost to the horizon now, the golden light of the late afternoon casting long shadows across the field. We’d picked up a pair of wicker chairs so we wouldn’t have to be awkwardly standing apart from each other in the massive, empty field. The two of us must have been an interesting sight, a muscular professor teaching magic theory to a twenty-one year old woman one-on-one in the center of an empty stadium that could’ve seated hundreds.

“I think I remember seeing something about that in the textbook,” I said. “The frame is the somatic component, the fuel the magical, and the spark is the verbal?”

“The textbook is useful, but incomplete,” Lasi said. “There are some things that you simply can’t pick up without practicing them.”

“Alright, that makes sense,” I acknowledged. “So, frame, fuel, spark.”

“The frame is perhaps the most critical part of the entire construction,” the professor said, holding up a hand and dragging it through the air, golden electric sparks manifesting in a straight line in its trail. “It is the structure, the frame that tells our god what exactly we seek from our spell. Most oathholders elect to create a structure that is simply ‘good enough’, but I can tell you right now that your spell will never truly be good enough. The frame is merely mimicry, a set of instructions that shapes what kind of magic that the gods pass through us, and it will never come close to the perfection that is the gods’ magic. There is always room to improve.”

“I get that much,” I said. “It feels wrong making the frame, though, like I’m pushing against my own instincts.”

“Does it now,” Lasi said, stroking his chin. “Did you, by chance, learn unstructured magic before structured?”

“Yes,” I said, caught slightly off guard. “How did you know?”

“I’ve known a few of those in my time,” the professor said. “Mostly nobles, so you’re a bit of an exception in that regard.”

“I suppose so.”

“You’ll get used to it, in time. That, or you’ll learn to deal with the discomfort. I had a teammate who did the latter, once upon a time.”

“How do I improve at the frame?” I asked. “I think I have the fuel and the spark down.”

“I haven’t seen your magic closely enough to give you a conclusive analysis,” Lasi said. “Although I will admit that most of those who train in unstructured magic are particularly good at the fuel.”

“Do you need to see a spell, then?” I asked.

“Please do.” Lasi said, gesturing to the arena around us. “Be my guest.”

I stood up. “Any preference for the spell?”

“A magic missile should suffice. Just aim for the ground, it won’t be missed.”

I steeled myself and cast, gesturing from one shoulder to another like I’d been taught. I visualized the gesture opening a hole, the void shaped perfectly for my oath to fill with power. It still felt like I was being forced to write with the wrong hand, but it was still doable.

I spoke the command word, and the magic missile formed with half-strength, arcing through the air and into a patch of grass that looked like it was in the process of dying. The missile finished the process, throwing up a plume of dust and reducing the wilted blades to ash.

“It’s sloppy,” Lasi commented. “You didn’t form your frame with a purpose in mind, and it was unstable besides. It looks like you cobbled something together that just so happened to not break under the stress of your magic.”

“I can’t tell what I’m doing wrong,” I told him.

“Watch me form a frame properly, then watch me do it the same way you did,” he said. “And see if you can spot the issue.”

He stood from his chair as well, stepping in line with me and matching my motions, using slow and steady hand gestures to cast a magic missile when I was fairly sure he didn’t need them.

The frame was cast in the air as thick golden lines, a perfect figure of two lines forming an angle. Lasi released the spell, and I managed to keep myself from jumping as a bolt of lightning shot forth from between his fingers, arcing up into the sky and fizzling out after a fair distance of travel.

“Did you see that?” Lasi said. “Now watch carefully. You won’t catch it unless you’re looking for it— pay attention to the thickness of the line.”

He formed another spell, once again going at a glacially slow pace, and I squinted at it. At first glance, it looked basically the same, but he’d told me to look for variance in the thickness of the line and so I did. I caught a glimpse of an area where the line dipped in thickness, ever so slightly, and another where it was roughly expanding.

Lasi cast the spell again, and this time it seemed less directed, less powerful, and it didn’t make it nearly as far into the air before vanishing.

“I used the same fuel and spark for both of those,” the professor said, turning his gaze back to me. “And yet one held nearly twice the effectiveness of the other.”

“So it’s unstable and inconsistent,” I said.

“Correct. Now, as to how you fix it…”

If that tone meant anything, he certainly wouldn’t be giving me an easy fix. “I just need to practice more, right?”

“Also correct. The frame is a matter of perspective, one of understanding exactly how much fuel you will need. You must become accustomed to limiting yourself and adhering to rigidity, rather than continue the flowing stream of unstructured magic that you must be used to.”

I sighed. That was doable, if irritating. Hopefully, he’d be able to help me along by pointing out where my frames were going wrong. “How about the fuel and the spark? How were those?”

“The fuel was fine, excellent even,” Lasi said. “Particularly given the mess of a frame you made. The spark, on the other hand…”

“Surely it’s not that complex,” I said. “All one does for the spark is say a word in the oathtongue.”

“Inflection, enunciation, emphasis, pacing,” the professor listed. “You’re doing a little, but each of those aspects affect how potent a kick you get to your spell. The spark is what releases your request for magic to your oath. Any spark will light the fuel, but then again an oathlight-powered lighter and a damp match will both spark a flame. One will do it much better than the other. It is the same way for your magical spark. Try casting another one. Your frame will likely not improve much, but surely you’ve had a public speaking class or two. Improve your spark.”

As a matter of fact, I had taken oration classes before, but that had been over a decade ago. “Professor, I think you have deeply misconstrued how educated we villagers are.”

“You’re from the villages?” He asked. “I thought for sure you would be a noble. You remind me of someone from my old strike squad, and he was noble. You even have his eyes and his hair.”

That… that was a description that I unfortunately recognized. I concealed my displeasure. While brown hair wasn’t incredibly unique, the grey eyes I had were a little more so, and I did remember an uncle of mine who’d once been on a kingdom strike squad. He’d been killed in the line of action around two years before my father’s folly, and that I remembered well.

“Just luck, I suppose,” I said. “But sure, I can try again.”

“Excellent. Now, repeat after me before you cast.”

He said the command phrase in the oathtongue, lilting upwards on the second syllable and placing heavy emphasis on the third and fourth.

I cast once more, this time trying to emulate the sound he’d made, and while I couldn’t really see a change I could feel it in the spell, the way it had almost been eager to be cast.

“Much better,” Lasi said. “The books have pronunciation guides, but it is significantly more beneficial to see someone else do it and practice. You should, however, inflect slightly less on the first and third syllables. Do it again.”

I continued casting, adjusting bits and pieces of my pronunciation with each go, Lasi suggesting microadjustments for my spark with each missile I cast. I crafted missile after missile, casting for what had to have been nearly an hour on end. The increase in my oathholder class was especially apparent, now. Even though structured magic took less out of me than unstructured magic did, I was still fairly sure that I wouldn’t have lasted half as long before I’d started adventuring.

The tip of the sun had already begun to dip beneath the horizon when I began to get tired, and it was almost halfway set when I admitted that I wouldn’t be able to cast another spell without overdrawing.

“That should be enough for today,” Lasi said. “Your spark has improved significantly, at least, but your frame is still exceptionally sloppy. We will need to work on that over time.”

I nodded, then glanced at the horizon. “Thank you. I need to go meet up with Jasmine. We’re finding another mission.”

“Adventurers,” Lasi said affectionately, shaking his head. “I suppose I cannot stop you.”

“I have bills to pay,” I shrugged. “And a reputation to make.”

“Acknowledged.” The professor made to turn away, then looked back at me, remembering something. “Oh, right. While you’re there, find out which my students at this university are adventurers.”

“How do I do that?”

“Just ask for a roster. The TAG doesn’t like me, but they’ll listen to you. I have a list of my students that I suspect may be adventurers. They should be able to cross-reference.”

I nodded. “That works.”

We walked back to his office, and he handed me a single sheet of paper, filled front and back with names. There were maybe thirty names to a side. More than I’d expected, but then this was simply those who he suspected. I didn’t bother asking how he’d come to believe that these were adventurers— he was older and experienced and there were any number of factors that could contribute.

“I’d like you to get in touch with these people,” the professor said. “And send them to me. Make this your utmost priority if any of these people happen to be drafted for the incoming crisis event.”

“The primordial,” I said.

“The primordial,” he confirmed. “It is not exceptionally likely that low-level adventurers get drafted for something this dangerous, but there is still a significant chance. Additionally, inform me on when it is projected to surface. I will not have my students dying for membership to a guild.”

“I’ll take a look,” I said.

There was a history there, left unspoken. He’d been in the kingdom’s special strike squads, once, and those only held the best of the best mages. Something he’d seen, during his time there, something he’d been through before, it was still affecting him.

Or maybe he was just like Jasmine, always worrying for the safety of those around them even when they were not close.

Whatever the case, I would locate the students like he asked. It didn’t cost me anything, and though we hadn’t made an incredible amount of progress today the results had been there. He’d been helpful, more patient and calmer than he had the propensity to do in a larger class, and my spells were flowing a little better now, even if they still felt awkward and uninstinctive.

I waved and left, and then I was off to find Jasmine and the others.

“Twenty-two more points,” Jasmine said. “Then we’ll clear the first month and make it to the second membership level.”

“That’s one more major job, or a handful of smaller ones,” I said. “And we still have two weeks left?”

“Around that, yeah,” Jasmine said.

“You two seem ahead of pace,” Lukas said. “It’s getting late, so we’ll try to either pick up a short job or schedule one for the next few days.”

We slowed as we entered the TAG building. It was even more active than it usually was, today, the buzz of activity a pitch or two higher than normal.

“Something’s happening,” Jasmine commented. “It might be the draft.”

The four of us found the receptionist for ML 2 adventurers. Jasmine and I weren’t quite there yet, but thankfully the guild categorized parties by their highest levelled member, which Alex and Lukas were tied for.

Lukas handled finding the job this time, answering the receptionist’s standard questions, and he came back holding a single paper.

“There’s not much available,” he said. “People are taking anything they can get, right now, and there aren’t as many jobs available.”

“They’re anticipating the primordial soon,” Jasmine realized. “That means the draft is going to be soon.”

Right, the draft was a thing. That reminded me, I had been given a task to complete here today.

“Give me a second,” I said, separating myself from the group.

I walked to the receptionist, a bespectacled man that looked like he could have been in my year at the university.

“Name, party status, oathholder level if applicable, reason for inquiry,” he counted off in a monotone. “New quests are not open from tomorrow until one day after the draft has taken place. During that day, you may voluntarily add yourself to the draft.”

“Lily Syashan, partied under Lukas Noben, looking to cross-reference a list of names with adventurers active in the Tayan area.”

“I can do that,” he said, a little more active at the discovery that I was here for a reason other than getting a mission. “Do you have the list?”

“Yes, I do,” I said, taking out the paper the professor had given me and unfolding it. “Here.”

The receptionist took the sheet and opened a cabinet in his desk, extracting a thick binder. I opened my mouth to ask him if it was going to take him long to check through a binder large enough to use as a blunt weapon, especially given that there were more people waiting in line behind me, but I need not have worried.

He had a communication device with him, and he spoke into it, asking for a ‘librarian’ to come over and then beckoning the next person forward.

A minute passed, and then another man came over, this one visibly a few years older and a little more put-together than the receptionist. He cast a spell, one that I recognized as a fairly advanced searching spell. It was, if I remembered, a spell from the Naan’ti school of magic, which meant that it only really worked if the oathholder casting it was sworn to one or two specific gods. In this case, it was the second-pantheon god Oloje, god of discovery. A useful oathholder to have in an administrative position.

Sections of the binder glowed a soft blue, as did portions of the list of names I’d passed to the receptionist. The librarian handed me the list of names back mere seconds later, and I counted twelve names underlined in bright blue pen.

“Thank you,” I said, and I returned to Jasmine’s party.

“-receptionist told me that the draft is happening tonight,” Lukas was saying, a hint of worry in his voice. “At midnight.”

“That’s fine,” Jasmine said. “If any of us get selected, we’ll figure it out when we get there.”

“I didn’t expect there to be a crisis event this early into adventuring,” Alex said. “And so close to home, too.”

“It is what it is,” Jasmine said. “Look, there’s nothing we can do about it, so let’s not worry about it and do our job.”

That was true. I’d done my fair share of research about the psuedo-military organization that the TAG was, and I knew that not answering the draft was punishable by several years of prison and manual labor. Not really something that I was keen on doing, to be honest.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be an issue. I didn’t fear fighting stronger opponents, but I had to admit that I was so severely outclassed by primordials that I and everyone with me would be little more than ants facing a particularly malicious boot.

“What’s the job?” I asked. “I missed it because I was doing Professor Lasi a favor.”

“It’s so minor that it’s almost a waste of time for all four of us to go,” Lukas said. “There’s a construction project for a new restaurant in South Yaguan, but the property that currently occupies the land is being a little problematic to demolish. It has an aggressive Altered rat infestation, which is keeping the construction workers from breaking the building properly.”

“So we just kill the rats?” I asked. “That sounds like it could take a few people.”

“No, we’re demolishing the building,” Lukas said. “Without the use of fire, preferably, because the surrounding area isn’t fireproofed well. Investigation found that there’s probably a nest of the things inside the property, so getting rid of the old house means getting rid of the Altered infestation. We can clean them up as they come out— individually, they’re easy pickings even for class one oathholders, and as a group they still stand no chance against us.”

“How big is the old house?” I asked. “There’s a possibility that I can just finish the main job alone, given some support.”

“It’s a twenty meter by twenty meter box, mostly wooden,” Lukas said, reading off of the mission description. “Built two decades ago, but it’s been mostly unoccupied since.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” I said. “I have a fair bit of magic now. If you give me half an hour and keep me from getting hit by the rats, I can probably just level the entire place. I’ve been practicing my magic missiles, and I know my magic is powerful enough to turn wood to ashes.”

“Surely it can’t be that easy,” Alex said.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I replied.