The morning air was fresh and the shingled roofs of the upper town were slick with dew as I made my way to the main campus of the Collegio Academico. I noted a few students hurrying around, but for the most part, the place was empty. I had arisen before the eighth bell and arrived well before the ninth, leaving me enough time to follow up on some of my other ideas.

Working with my staff last night had left me plenty of time to think, and it had occurred to me that the Collegio was probably the one place where I could find more information about the mysterious Lissandra. She was, after all, my prime suspect for the source of the parasite that was killing Megaine.

Entering the building, I stopped a worker to ask directions to the theology department. The man was kind enough to supply me with the answer, though he did look askance at my pin. It was not unheard of for students from the Collegia Alchemica and Collegio Magico to spend time at each other’s buildings for cross-referencing and questions. It was less common for either to make their way to the Collegio Academico, though not expressly forbidden.

I arrived at a door with a plaque engraved with the name T. Widdleston and a small placard that read: Theology Department Head. I knocked.

“Yes?” Came a voice.

I opened the door and stuck my head inside, “Excuse me sir, but could you spare a moment of time for a curious alchemist?”

The middle-aged man in the chair looked like he didn’t miss many meals, and his black hair was liberally salted with white. His eyes were an unassuming brown, letting me know that he was either or wick or mundane. I was not going to assume that anybody but Diella outright refused to use essence supplementation.

His office was clean, but hardly organized. While there was a bookshelf against the wall, there were more than five distinct stacks of books lined up behind the man. While they were well aligned, and appeared to be in no danger of falling, they spoke of a man who often failed to make his way back to the library to return books.

This man was probably Master Norry’s nemesis.

“Of course,” He said, gesturing me inside and setting aside a quill and inkpot, “I don’t see many alchemists in here, so this should be interesting.”

“Yes sir.” I said, entering and sitting in a chair before his desk which he indicated.

“Now,” He said, “What can an old mundane like me do for an accomplished alchemist, Master…?”

“Ethan Dyre,” I grinned, “I’ve learned not to underestimate mundanes sir. In any case, I was hoping you might have knowledge of a god other than Tyr and Orianna.”

He raised an eyebrow, “There are a few such floating around in my head. Does this mysterious god have a name, or am I to start listing out the ones I know?”

I shook my head and pulled out the page of notes I had taken on Lissandra, “Her name is Lissandra, this is what I was able to find in the library.”

The man took the sheet and looked it over, nodding thoughtfully, “I have read a couple of things about Lissandra, though only in texts that predate the Breaking.”

He turned and rifled through the books behind him, finally coming up with the one he wanted. He opened it to an earmarked page, read for a moment, then nodded.

“You’re acquainted with the Breaking?” He asked.

I shrugged, “Peripherally, nobody seems to know a lot about it. Just that it resulted in the Broken Lands being formed.”

He nodded, “Exactly. The actual cause of the Breaking is a subject of great debate. Some say that it was an extra-planar phenomenon. Something boring its way into our world and releasing the powerful magics which emanate from the Broken Lands. Others say it was a folly of men, and we created the evil which has been our neighbor ever since.”

“So… what is it?” I asked as he fell silent.

He shrugged, “It’s mostly an academic question, someone will try to mount an expedition every century or so, but they are inevitably repulsed as they delve deeper into the Broken Lands. The one thing that we are sure of is that, in addition to the deaths of people, and loss of vast stores of knowledge, the Breaking had an effect on the gods themselves. Orianna and Tyr were once far more involved deities than they are now. Since the Breaking, and don’t say this in hearing of any clergy member, the gods themselves have been… diminished.”

I sat back.

“Diminished?” I asked.

“From what we have been able to piece together, white and black mages used to be no less uncommon than cardinal mages. Their rarity is just one of the indications. Tyr and Orianna still speak to their followers occasionally, but it is fortunate indeed if such a thing occurs more than twice in a decade.” He said.

“And Lissandra?” I asked, “Is she… dead?”

I barely dared to breath as the man before me rubbed his chin.

“I would hesitate to say dead,” He said, “We don’t really understand all that much about how immortals work. I am not certain that the cardinal spirits or gods can be killed.”

“Could they be… changed?” I asked.

“A difficult question,” he replied, “Although based on her silence, it is not entirely beyond reason. Why do you ask?”

“I met a man who claimed to possess a part of the body of a dead god.” I said, “I think it might be part of Lissandra.”

The man leaned forward, “What?! Did you see it?”

I nodded, “It was a parasite that fed on magic, killing the mage that it inhabited.”

“Do you have it?” He demanded.

I shook my head, “The sample I was working with was stolen from me. The owner… I don’t ever want to seem him again, but something tells me that I will anyway.”

“What can you tell me about it?” He asked.

I spent some time telling him about the parasite, leaving Megaine and the Arefinas out of it. When I was done, the professor looked mildly perturbed.

“So you poisoned it, and it disappeared?” He asked.

“It’s still there.” I said, “Although it can’t affect my patient as much as it did.”

“This actually has precedent,” He said, “Gods and spirits can form temporary bodies for themselves that are just as susceptible to damage as any mortal. They are far more resilient than we are, but that just means that they can survive more. The cardinal spirits tend to stick to constructs of their elements, while the gods have been known to don masks of flesh.”

“So… the parasite died and became a… spirit?” I asked warily.

“That’s the best theory I can offer you.” He said, “If all of your suppositions are correct. If this parasite is in fact the body of a dead god. Destroying the body would not damage the spirit, it would simply render it less capable in the mortal realm.”

I rubbed my temples, “This is getting complicated. Do you know of any alchemy that can affect a spirit?”

He laughed, “I am afraid that you have reached the limit of my expertise Master Dyre. I suggest you take such things up with one of your instructors. There may also be someone among the Seekers of Truth or the Adventurers’ Guild who could help you. Spiritual monsters are rare, but not unheard of. Something efficacious against undead might help.”

I nodded thoughtfully, “Thank you for your time sir.”

He waved a hand, “Always glad to feed hungry minds. Before you go, would you indulge me in a few questions?”

I sat up straight, “Of course sir.”

“You’re an alchemist, but I don’t see a halo of any kind in your eyes,” He said, “You’re not a wick are you?”

I blinked for a moment, then chuckled, “No sir, I’m a gray mage and a great soul. My halo is full, but I just look like a regular person.”

He examined my eyes, then smiled, “Ah, I see. You should really go visit Professor Feldt, he’s gray too.”

I stared at him, “Gray?”

He shrugged, “It’s a rare affinity, but I’ve met a few. There is a cabinetmaker in the lower city who claims to be a gray wick. His work is exceptional, but that might just be because he is a skilled artisan.”

“What does Professor Feldt teach?” I asked hurriedly, “Where can I find him?”

“Slow down there Master Dyre,” He said.

“I’ve never met another gray mage.” I continued excitedly, “There are so many things I want to ask him!”

“He is an associate professor of artificing,” He said, a dry note in his voice, “Although to name him a professor is a bit of an overstatement. The man is brilliant, but terrible with people. The Collegio keeps him around because he occasionally produces something that is actually useful and brings in revenue.”

I stood up, fully intending on running to the artificing department.

“Hold up,” The man said, making a placating gesture, “I still have one more thing to tell you about Lissandra.”

I sank back into my chair, though one of my legs bounced in impatience. The professor gave me a longsuffering look before I finally managed to calm myself.

“Although we are not certain,” He said, “It is believed that Lissandra was the ancient goddess of magic. If she were dead, or grievously injured, it would stand to reason that her body would be searching out any essence it could find. She would be drawn to it, as it is her nature. I hope that helps, but that is about all I can give you.”

“Thank you, professor,” I said, “You have given me a lot to think about.”

He smiled, “May you always find the truth.”

I left his office, then immediately began running. This would have been more effective if I had any idea where I was going. I almost bowled over a pair of students, who quickly gave me directions to the artificing lab, rather than just the department, when they found out who I was looking for. Based on the looks they shoot each other, the two young men probably thought I was a crazy person.

I wasn’t prepared to contradict them.

Despite having run through the halls of the rather large building, I was hardly winded by the time I reached the artificing lab. I restrained myself from kicking open the door, resorting to a simple knock instead. I still bounced from foot to foot as I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I knocked again, louder.

No response.

I tried the handle, it was unlocked. On reflection, I realized that a lab would be quite large, and there may not have been anyone by the door to answer it. Shrugging, I opened the door and stepped in.

If you have ever been to a small-town museum, you will understand the sight which met my eyes when I stepped into the lab. Around me was a hodgepodge of implements, some half-finished, others complete in all their glory, and even more disassembled into their component parts. There was not a smooth surface open for use. I would be more willing to call it a workshop, but I was willing to let the artificers name it whatever they wanted.

“Yes! Hello!” Came a voice from the other side of a pile of junk, “What’s all this racket about!?”

“Professor… Feldt?” I asked hesitantly.

A stumpy man with rounded features and white hair that had probably not seen a comb for at least a week came tromping around the pile of debris. Salt and pepper scruff marred his face, and not in the way that it does for sexy actors. He reminded me of a tall gnome.

“Who’s asking?” He asked irritably, “If it’s the dean, you go right back and tell him that you can’t rush art! Or science!”

I held up a hand, “I’m afraid it’s just me sir. Ethan Dyre, master alchemist and gray mage.”

The professor’s blue eyes were impinged almost to the pupils by a halo of gray. Those eyes narrowed as he approached me, then gestured at me.

“Sir?” I asked, not understanding.

“Squat down boy,” He growled, “I can’t see your halo from here.”

Nervously, I lowered myself to his level and let him examine my eyes carefully. With a nod, he waved me off. I rose back to my full height again.

“Well,” He said, “You’re either a mundane and lying to me, or you are the real deal. In all honesty, I’m not sure what use a gray mage would have with a great soul. We’re not essence hogs like your standard cardinal mage is. Though I guess you could supercharge someone you trusted.”

I nodded emphatically, “Yes sir.”

He tapped his chin, “So, what is it you want?”

“I was…” I hesitated, “I was hoping that you could teach me more about being a gray mage.”

He looked at me seriously for a moment, then burst out laughing. I stared at him in perplexed wonder.

“Learn to be a gray mage!” He cackled, “Boy, what on Esturia makes you think that I know anything more about being a gray mage than you?”

I blinked, “Well, you’ve been living with it for longer than me…”

He shrugged, swiping hammer from a nearby bench, “I assume you know about your ability to produce items of higher quality than anyone else?”

I nodded.

“Essence projection?” He asked.

“I can feed another mage through their inflow track, or… another way.” I said.

He nodded, “Soul link. It’s one of the few things that we gray mages can accomplish with little more than a thought. What are you doing for control training?”

“I mostly just work on my blacksmithing or alchemy.” I said, “That seems to help.”

He nodded, “That will be so. Unlike other mages, our power is one which requires action to hone properly. Just keep at what you are doing. Push your power in novel ways, try to look deeper into the things that you are working on.”

“Is that it?” I asked.

“It?” He asked incredulously, “That’s just the surface. There are many things to learn about being a gray mage.”

“Does that mean you will teach me?” I asked hopefully.

The little man rubbed his chin, then spoke, “No.”

He turned and walked away with his hammer. I stared after him as he vanished, only to have my ears assaulted by clanging noises, accompanied by insults of various color being thrown at some device which I assumed the man was working on. My legs found their strength, and I pursued the man.

“Why not?” I asked, “I need a mentor in magic. I haven’t been able to find anyone else.”

“You still here?” He asked loudly, still hammering at a metal plate which was protruding from an arcane device, “I thought I told you to leave.”

“No,” I responded, “You told me you wouldn’t teach me.”

More clanging.

“People usually take that as a hint.” The professor said.

“I have been told that I am not very good at picking up on cues.” I shot back.

Clang!

“That’s obvious enough,” He growled, now trying to bend the metal sheet to fit underneath the lip of an interlocking plate, “I’m very busy you know.”

I took that moment to examine the device. It was a cylinder about thirty centimeters long and ten centimeters in diameter, mounted on a tripod. The wrapping plate of steel that made up the body was refusing to fit under the cap, leaving a confusing array of gears and inscriptions open to my eyes.

“What is this anyway?” I asked.

The little man glanced over at me, then went back to his hammering. Though he did deign to answer my question.

“An artificer eh?” He asked, his eyes shrewd.

“Amateur at best,” I admitted, pulling my crude mechanical pencil from my storage bag and handing it to him.

The man looking it over, worked it a little, then snorted, “Amateur to be certain, but it has practical use.”

He handed the pencil back and I stowed it in by bag again, “So… what is it then?”

He sighed, “If you’re going to annoy me with talking, at least help me fit this casing. It needs to be done before noon so that I can send it off to the border for testing.”

I complied, stepping forward to examine the plate. It was a mirror image of the plate which covered the other half of the device and had clearly been cast for this specific purpose. Unfortunately, it was warped. I was tempted to believe that the hammering of this mad scientist was to blame, but the few extra deformities I could see were not causing the fitting problem.

“You dropped this, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Hm.” He grumped, then got back to hammering.

Multiple times then. Great.

I plucked the hammer from his hand mid-swing, then used a screwdriver to remove the plate completely. Professor Feldt did not protest, but simply watched as I cleared a place on one of the benches nearby and gave the casing a few good whacks with the hammer. I took it back to the device and eyeballed it, going back to make further adjustment twice more before finally fitting it to the contraption.

“Perfect,” Professor Feldt grinned, “You’ve got a good eye for shapes.”

“I’m an enchanter.” I noted.

“Oh-ho, see anything you like in there?” He asked, his eyes gleaming.

“Your essence storage capacitor is a little strange,” I admitted, “It looks a little… cramped.”

He waved a hand, “It’s a fractal. For something as simple as a repeating mathematical loop, you can fit more in less space if you do that.”

I blinked, then nodded suddenly, “Of course. Why don’t I see more of that?”

The man guffawed, “Don’t often see enchanted items that need more than a few charges left in them, this is different.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” I asked.

“It’s a portable ward.” He said, “Detection only, but it makes quite a racket when it senses monsters.”

“A ward?” I asked incredulously, “How are you projecting it? I thought wards only extended as far as their inscription.”

“Normally yes,” He said, “But this one pulses a signal out that is attuned to unpurified essence. If it runs into something like that, the pulse returns and sets off the whole thing. That’s why it needs to hold such a large charge. A bit more expensive, but a huge time saver.”

I regarded the object a little more respectfully, “Who is supposed to use this? Seems a little excessive for an adventuring party.”

The artificer shrugged, “Not my department. I just design things. The dean usually finds someone who can use it.”

I turned to him, “So, now do you have time to tell me about gray magic?”

The man sighed, then began packing the object away in a crate labeled for shipping, “I suppose I can answer three questions for you.”

“How can I get more questions?” I asked instantly.

“Bring me knowledge, but remember, knowledge is only as powerful as the truth it contains,” He said with the air of someone quoting scripture, “If your information is good, it is worth something. If not, then I owe you nothing. Two.”

I paused, then spoke again, “Do you regenerate essence at an absurd rate compared to other mages?”

Professor Feldt nodded, “Noticed that too eh? I tell most of my pupils to keep that under wraps. Our ability to transfer essence to other mages is uncommon knowledge, but the ability to heal the soul at a rapid rate? That’s unknown and is something truly valuable. You haven’t been blabbing, have you?”

I shook my head, “No, there might be an alchemist in Vern who suspects it, but I haven’t told her the limits of my ability to regenerate essence.”

He snorted, “Cardinal mages think they have magic sorted out. She might suspect, but she will always come up against what she ‘knows’ versus what she suspects.”

“You don’t like cardinal mages, do you?” I asked.

He laughed, “Listen boy, I don’t need pity from a person whose greatest accomplishment in life is the ability to throw a fireball at a screeching monster. Most cardinal mages see my abilities and think that I am defective. Don’t have much time for those who don’t appreciate what I can do. That’s your last question.”

I groaned. Wasted on a reflexive question. The twinkle of amusement in the man’s eyes convinced me that he had been more than willing to capitalize on my mistake to get out from under his self-imposed obligation.

“Now, for the love of Tyr, get out,” He said, “Come back when you have something substantial to offer me. I’m very busy.”

I looked around the room. I would honestly have been unsurprised to hear that the man was visited daily by an angry aerotheurge.

“I can see that.” I noted.

He gestured at the door by way of reply and I left. Not what I had been expecting, but probably for the best. Professor Feldt was certainly a font of knowledge, but one that I honestly didn’t have much time to tap right now.

My time at the Collegio Academico had been enlightening. I now had a direction to go, and the faintest glimmer of hope that I could accomplish something that was becoming more of a pipe dream than I cared to think about.

Now, it was time to get to work.