“And that’s all.”

With his report finished, Tur nodded a bow and fell silent, waiting for further instructions.

The Master, sitting at one of the tables of the common hall of the Guild while the rest of the Gremlins waited in respectful silence, didn’t answer right away. His focus was on a piece of paper he had been scribbling on. Tur could make out a list of crossed-out words, but apart from that he had no idea what it said.

“I am pleasantly surprised.” Master’s low rumble of a voice dragged him out of his subtle peeping. The old man didn’t avert his gaze from the paper as he spoke. “This man, this Crow,” he mused, sounding more like he was talking to himself rather than to a room full of listeners. “The moment i became a possible factor in this city’s economic landscape he acted, swiftly and without leaving me time to retaliate. A demonstration of power, intimidation, and cutting off of any other possible decisions apart from falling in line.” With a rough gesture, he crossed out another word. “Well-struck. It speaks of lucid thinking and initiative.” His well-trimmed eyebrows knitted in concentration. “On the other hand, it doesn’t speak well of the others.”

“The others, Master?” Tur ventured to say, hesitation born only partially from respect. The fact that his mind, body and soul were fanatically certain that throwing himself into a fire if this man ordered it was the only logical course of action didn’t mean that he didn’t find him disquieting. The memory, not so old but feeling like it had happened decades earlier, of a gray goblin standing before a barn’s door while waving a flame-wreathed staff around might have been playing a part. Tur shivered a little. That, and the fact that, even in a room full of his comrades and with the sun high in the sky, Master looked like one of those grotesque statues humans liked to put on the buttresses of their largest churches, and with the same vibe to boot.

The Master hummed. His pen became a blur of movement for an instant, and when it stopped another name stood at the foot of the list.

“Those that oppose him, of course.”

Tur threw a glance where his Warriors waited, receiving a handful of shrugs and blank looks.

“You sure, Master?” He tried. “Those guards sounded under the thumb of the guy alright. And the drunkard…”

“Desperate like Ruddy will always tell what benefits them the most.” The Master interrupted him smoothly. “In this particular case, what puts him in favor of those that control the underworld and are more likely to do violence to him. Drunkards can’t rely on the protection of the law and nobody misses them when they disappear. They need to make themselves useful.” The tip of the pen tapped on the paper’s brim. “Also, this intervention has been too quick. It means that he has enemies he wanted to keep me from.”

Tur wasn’t exactly convinced, but he wasn’t going to argue. What the Master said was what the Master said.

“But he’s unlucky.” Another word ended crossed out. “He chose the wrong enemy.”

That had to be enough writing, or maybe he was just tired, as he pushed himself away from the table and up.

“But I guess that it’s not a choice in this case.” He gestured. Before Krik even had the chance to take a step, Trich was already by Gorren, taking paper and pen from him.

“I am going out.”

Murmurs rippled through the Gremlins. They weren’t very keen on having their Master going out in the field in person. Apart from the danger, they took it as a bit of blow to their pride.

Tur shared the sentiment but knew just as well that once Master had made up his mind, it was easier to make a mountain crumble and build it back in another spot than convince him otherwise. Thankfully, Krik was there for him.

“Just… try not to disappear for another week. Alright, Master?”

Not exactly put in the most respectful way possible - and more than one hard glare went Krik’s ways, especially from Trich and Sela -, but it summarized the Gremlins’ feelings well. What were they going to do without their beloved master?

Gorren, already in the midst of donning his cloak, answered with a snort, a sound that was a dismissal just as it was non-committal.

“I’ll return soon.”

A flap of fabric, quick steps and the door slamming; and Gorren was gone, leaving the Gremlins to the dawning realization that another game of patience was upon them.

“Well, back at waiting we go. Who’s up for some drinks and games?”

“You beautiful son of a bitch, i thought you’d never say it!”

Gorren could hear the Guild behind him grow loud with the sound of festivities as he walked away.

Umph. He was starting to grow a soft spot for his boisterous crew. Or maybe not. Gods knew he had enough of those already.

But back to business. He had things to do.

A secret door had been one of the first additions he had built into the Guild’s building. Camouflaged with the wall, it led into an adjacent small cabinet that the previous owner had been using for storage. The two guards surveilling it from the inside stiffened as the door opened, but quickly relaxed as they saw who was coming.

Long tail fluttering behind him, the old, gray cat made his way between the respectfully bowing Gremlins and out in the small garden. Gathering his legs, he jumped on the enclosure and from there down on the alley.

Landing on the cobblestones, Gorren took a couple of moments to adapt to his new form. Animal transmutations always brought a whole can of worms with them, meaning instincts the caster had to keep under control if he didn’t want to risk losing himself. When it came to cats it was all about laziness, leisureliness and playfulness, at least when the more important needs were satisfied.

Gorren had to admit he liked that forma mentis. It helped him to get out, at least in part, from the need to act and work that dominated every instant of his life. It was relaxing, in its own way. Ah, guilty pleasures.

Satisfied, Gorren made his way down the alley and into the main street. Since it was lunchtime, there were only a few people going about their business.

Standing on the street’s side, Gorren weighed his options. Where to go first? Thankfully, he had spent some time familiarizing himself with the city’s layout, so he had well enough in mind the places where the pieces of information he needed could be more easily obtained. Let’s start from the beginning. The Eastern End it is, then.

He was thinking that, when a trio of cats wobbled close. The most confrontational of the three, a big stray as black as sin, stalked toward him with fur puffed out and hissing threats to the intruder. A tail smack on the nose sent him reeling back amidst his alarmed comrades.

Gorren passed over a light hiss. Another problem with animal transmutation. Oh well.

Long tail fluttering behind him, the gray cat walked down the street, leaving the bewildered trio to try and understand who this intruder come out of the blue was.

There were plenty of places in Blackstone where to gather information, so rather than find one Gorren needed to decide in which to go. After the Shattered Fang, his obvious first stop, he systematically scoured every dingy tavern of the Eastern End, giving precedence over those where the workers more likely to have contact with crime - the poorer the better - were more likely to spend their free time. After that, he walked into the warehouses of the port, mingled in the buzz of the docks, stalked thugs through riverside streets choked with the stink of fish, made his way underfoot the crowds of the port’s poor markets, with the smells of a hundred products competing for his nose and the voices of just as many merchants and customers in the ears.

It couldn’t be said that the port and its immediate surroundings were the most immaculate of places. Thuggish-looking men stood at each tavern’s entrance and at street corners, milling, talking or simply scanning the crowd. It was probably to defend against those that everyone carried some kind of weapon, invariably held well on sight to discourage eventual aggressions.

Still, even those precautions didn’t assure safety. Gorren assisted at three aggressions, done in full day and once under the eyes of a patrol of guards, that just kept going like nothing was happening.

As he moved, he heard a dizzying array of voices, gossip, suppositions and theories; mostly useless, some less so.

Eventually, after hours of searching, stinging paws and a grumbling stomach convinced him to take a moment to rest.

Curling between mounds of trash in an alley, the old gray cat closed his eyes, thinking. A lively place, he thought, listening to the beating of his heart. He had seen the tall, white-skinned and dark-haired Truviani walk side by side with the darker tones from the south, down to the bronze-colored skin of the people of over-sea. The number of those bearing some kind of orc blood, showing in the skin or in the proportions, had surprised him. It seemed that the Avurrani weren’t shy when it came to intermingling with their neighbors. On the other side, he had noticed few full-blooded Orcs, the brown-skinned humanoids made immediately recognizable by their height, brawny builds and jutting fangs. Just a few were the Seveli, the enigmatic elves moving only in groups formed by their own. Tall and slender, with innate beauty and grace that any man would envy, they seemed to have changed very little from those he remembered. Well, to be honest, maybe some of them were the same. Elves were long-lived after all. An elf dying by the time he reached one hundred and twenty years wasn’t uncommon.

A lively place. The thought wasn’t free from bitterness. And so it was that Truvia was dead and gone, and new life blossomed in its wake. The wheel of time kept marching on, uncaring of those that had ended under. Gorren sighed, his form transmuting the gesture in a tired hiss. So it is, so it must be. As bitter as it made him, it was reassuring in its way. Kingdoms would fall, but life seemed to always find a way to kick back. And that is good. Don’t go thinking that the world will stop turning to let an old dog like you lick his wounds.

But enough of that.

A lively place, but marred by crime. That was good information, but not exactly what he hoped to find. The man-transmuted-cat watched the sky. His internal clock told him that it was late in the afternoon. He had only a little more time left.

Right now, he had gathered a good enough batch of information, but lacked the final confirmation about what interested him the most. It remained only a place reliable enough to find it.

Gorren sighed. Of course.

The workers of the Church of Rising Light, the main one of the Blackstone branch, were still hard at work despite the late hour, busy between finishing distributing the daily meal at the poor and cleaning up.

“Well done, Sister Lisa.” Brother Erm said, putting a large hand on the shoulder of a woman busy scrubbing a large pot. Face covered in sweat, Lisa turned a grateful smile toward the priest.

With a clap on her shoulder, Erm left her. The burly priest walked between the workers - paid by the Church, volunteers or acolytes in their way to priesthood -, distributing smiles, congratulations for the work of the day or simple nods. Of the nods and smiles he received in return some were full and confident and other timid, but all shared the same quiet, tired satisfaction for a day well spent. Erm soaked in them, happy that his brothers and sisters were feeling the just recompense for the rightful labor. His aching body told him just as well of the good work done.

“Ah, Reim!” The priest saluted, stopping by a vagrant busy emptying his own plate. “You sit alone once again, brother? Why don’t you join us?”

Dressed in tatters, with a large hat covering his ratty face, Reim snorted with irritation. “It’s not your business, i reckon.” He said without lifting his head from the soup.

Brother Erm took it with merry resignation. By now, he had got used to the vagrant’s despondence. He attributed it to a life full of difficulties rather than from any blame on the poor man’s heart.

“I didn’t see the good Ruddy today.” He said, changing the topic. “He didn’t get in trouble, did he?”

“That old fox? I wish!” Reim clanked the spoon againt the plate. “The bastard got booze and money today; probably enjoying it in some hole, the rat.” The vagrant grumbled against so-called friends that forgot you the moment they had something good going on.

That had Erm frown a bit. “Is has been doing the miscreants’ bidding again?”

Reim shrugged. “What do i know? The bastard got dragged away by some of the guys of the Gray Goblin and returned with booze. Didn’t see him since. Bastard…”

The Adventurers? So it was about Sir Cartus. Erm found himself hoping that nothing bad had happened. The newcomer was such a kind soul, helping the poor with his Guild. It was such a shame that the citizens of Blackstone didn’t accept him yet.

Still, now that he thought about it, voices had been running about the Gray Goblin receiving a visit from Grimor’s thugs and then from the guard. They even said that a couple of workers of Guild had been arrested. Is the Crow at his usual tricks? It was probably so. The thought sparked anger in the burly priest’s chest. That’s where evil was, he thought; in those that profited from injustice, while enjoying the corrupted’s protection. The villains prospered, while the kind souls like Cartus were dragged low. Ah, but it wasn’t going to run so smoothly. He was going to look into it. At the very least, he was going to make sure that the two prisoners were treated well.

Erm returned from his thoughts with a newfound determination.

“If only Ruddy would understand.” He said, shaking his head. If everybody did what they could, denying this criminal their help, then they could be finally defeated.

“Sure. Like we are all idiots like Corwell.”

The mention of one of Blackstone’s most famous lawyers didn’t come as a surprise to Brother Erm. The name of the Corwell had become something of a joke between the lower rungs of society.

“Not idiots, my friend,” Erm said with conviction. “Heroes. If everybody dedicated themselves to fighting crime like Sir Joseph Corwell does, this city would rid itself of this cancer in the blink of an eye.”

“Sure, right.”

“It’s true.”

“Oh, fuck off, Erm. Just let me eat in peace, will you?”

Brother Erm was kinda surprised by the vagrant’s tone. “You seem more grumpy than usual, my friend. What’s the problem?”

Reim, that knew how much he could push with Brother Erm, recognized his mistake with a small wince. “It’s this stupid cat!” He said, pointing with the spoon. The cat in question, a gray, old patriarch, stood curled in a corner of the room, watching them with shiny eyes. “It has been looking at me since i got here. Blink, motherfucker!” The vagrant waved the spoon against the offending animal.

Brother Erm erupted into a thunderous laughter. “Ominous indeed!” He clapped the vagrant’s back, almost sending him tumbling to the ground. “Come, friend. Finish your meal and then join us. I have some sweeping for you to do.”

Reim didn’t look all too pleased to that, but Erm wasn’t discouraged in the least. Good, honest work would help the man to overcome his gloominess.

“Still, we cannot really have cats here. Here…” Erm stopped as he turned, just in time to see a gray tail disappear through the entrance.

“Well, that took care of itself, i guess.” He said with a smile. What a pity, it must have been a very well-behaved cat if nobody had noticed it enter and stay in there until then; and they had some left-over fish to give. Oh well, he supposed he could be keep an eyes out for an old cat, if push came to shove.

Gorren slipped in a back alley, then stopped to stretch.

“That went well”, he thought, yawning as wide as only a cat could. Boredom of the waiting put aside, he had the confirmation that he needed. If his read of Brother Erm wasn’t wrong, and he was sure that it wasn’t, the man was too honest to call a hero someone that a hero it wasn’t. That only compounded the voices he had already gathered: Joseph Corwell, outstanding citizen, defender of the law, number one enemy of the Crow. There were other names but his invariably came out if the discussion shifted over the crime lord. So, or this lawyer had the entire city somehow fooled, or he had finally found his man. Some doubts remained, of course, but it was nothing that a few intrusions in incognito at Corwell House couldn’t dissipate.

Satisfied by the day’s work, Gorren allowed the instincts of his form to take over for a bit, passing a paw over his head’s fur to smoothen and freshen it up.

His moment of quiet was interrupted by a sudden uproar. Turning, he found three cats clinging to an eave while a dog barked furiously underneath, scratching at the wall in its efforts to reach them.

Gorren frowned, a familiar gesture that his feline form translated in a measured look. Those cats looked strangely familiar? Ah, no matter.

The gray cat extracted a single claw.

The trio of cats didn’t stop to offer thanks, escaping in the opposite direction where the dog, now with a single scratch on his nose, had escaped whining.

Gorren thought nothing of it. Enjoying the cool of the evening, he disappeared in the shadows, long legs dangling behind him.

He quite liked cats.

When No-Name awoke, she was sure to have forgotten something. There was a big hole in her mind, right where she was certain there had to be something big. Still, no matter how much she tried to remember, apart from that sensation of loss there was nothing she could grasp.

It was frustrating. She felt that whatever she had forgotten had been important, or at least something she intended to return to.

Sitting on the bed, features locked into a frown, she tried to resolve the conundrum. Tried and tried, until her brain felt like it was starting to boil, but to no avail.

“You’re going to burst something like that.” The gruff voice jolted her away from her reverie.

No-Name felt her heart jump in her throat. Father was there, sitting on the chair by the fireplace, watching her.

She opened her mouth to reply, but just then the memories of all that had happened came flooding by. As it happened, she passed through a rapid-fire jumble of emotions, with embarrassment and panic playing the main part. Had… had that meeting really happened? Had Father really… really accepted her? Had she…

No-Name jumped as Gorren sat on her bed, and watched him dumbly. She hadn’t noticed him coming closer. He frowned as his usual, but there was a softness in his usually hard eyes that made her heart beat faster.

The old man raised the pinkie of his left hand, and beat lightly against it with a finger.

“I didn’t forget, you know.” He confided with a soft smile.

No-Name watched him dumbly. She watched her own hand, her pinkie in particular, then watched Gorren; then her finger again, then Gorren again.

Something grasped at her chest. It… it had been true! It had all happened for real!

She grabbed at her fingers, like if they were going to disappear before her eyes. She could barely believe it!

“Scarlet.”

She paused, dawning emotions turning to surprise.

“Scar…?”

“It’s your name.” Gorren nodded gently.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucer pans. “My…” She found herself grasping for words. “My… and-and what does it…”

Gorren replied by showing him a brightly-colored piece of cloth. Dazed, she looked at it. It was a simple thing, with roughly cut edges and not a drawing to cover its surface. It was its color that hit her; of a bright red, so much that it seemed to glow of its own inner light.

“This is scarlet.” Gorren explained. “It’s the color of the dragon’s fire, of the blood of the earth, of the flame when it burns strong and bright. It’s your name.”

She received the piece of cloth from him with reverential awe. Watching it, she felt her chest fill with emotion. My name.

She turned at him, speechless.

“Do you like it?” Something that resembled worry flashed in Gorren’s eyes.

No-Name almost jumped with fright. “No no! Yes!” She hurried to say, only to trip over her own words. “I mean… no, i… i mean…”

Her eyes started to prickle. My name! My name! She squeezed them shut, refusing to be a crybaby again. Only when they stopped prickling, she looked back at him, smiling widely, practically beaming!

“I love it!” She cried out to a startled Gorren. “My name! Scarlet! My name! My name!”

Emotions came flooding down and there was no stopping them. She jumped up and down, waving the cloth like it was a banner, shouting wildly her enthusiasm for her name. When she paused, it was to watch Gorren with eyes shimmering with happiness.

“Thank you, Father! Thank you!”

Gorren, that had been assisting to the outburst with startleness, froze in surprise. Then, his features softened, and he smiled and nodded a bit shakily.

Scarlet - her name! Her own name! - felt the impulse to just jump and hug him, but even her enthusiasm wasn’t enough for her to follow through with it. It just… didn’t feel right. Not yet at least.

Gorren seemed to understand, and nodded gently.

Buoyed, Scarlet didn’t think anymore. She hollered and whooped, cheered and jumped, as much as her bonds allowed her, letting out all the enthusiastic joy for that moment. Father had accepted her, and she had a name! What there was not to be happy? She wanted all the world to hear it!

Thankfully, the world hadn’t so good of ears, or it would have heard the record grumble that her stomach gave for sure as well as her cheers.

Scarlet fell back on the bed while throwing a hard glare at her offending body part. Not the moment, dammit!

Gorren had to have anticipated it, because he offered her a bowl full of broth. Scarlet took it with hands made shaky by enthusiasm. It was so difficult to hold it in check that for a moment she almost went and threw bowl and all in the air. But it smelled so good!

With effort, she managed to limit herself to just cram the bowl’s edge in her mouth. She drank all its content in one big, long gulp, the broth splashing on her chin and down her shirt.

Slamming down the empty bowl, she made a wide-mouthed sound of satisfaction.

“Again!” She said enthusiastically, thrusting the bowl out.

Gorren chuckled, a sound so amused, so happy, that she found herself grinning even more widely. There was light filling her chest, a luminous sphere just right her heart was supposed to be. Scarlet laughed, giving it voice.

For a moment, there was only them in the world, the old man with his cavernous chuckle and the little girl with her laughter, strong and happy. For a moment, they were happy, with no shadow to darken their thoughts.

A third laughter, a low titter this one, joined theirs.

Gorren and Scarlet stopped, surprised, and turned. Argus was awake, sitting on his bed, covering his nose with his little paws while trying to stifle his small laughter.

“Sorry.” He mumbled at their surprised expressions, trying and failing to stop laughing. He smiled radiantly at them, practically beaming with happiness. “Father and Sparky made peace! I am so happy!”

Gorren and Scarlet exchanged a glance. The old man smiled, the girl grinned widely.

Then, she realized with a start. “Hey! Don’t call me Sparky!”

A second bowl of soup went to Scarlet, and another, a bigger one, was handed by Gorren to Argus.

With her nose in it, Scarlet sneaked a glance toward the other bed, where Gorren was doing the usual examination of Argus’ bandages and condition. There was something, light and pleasant, filling her chest and tugging at her lips’ corners. It pulled at her heart, making her feel like she could start flying, making it hard for to not just start jumping and running and screaming in happiness. The shadows of the past, of the mire licking at her feet, were still there, but far away now, vague shapes lost in a dark abyss. Now the sun shone.

A new start? She grinned down on her soup. If it as going to be like that, maybe she could get behind it. Yes, she… she really could.

Gorren examined how the children’s wounds were going and, using the utmost attention, changed their medications. He was pleased by their progress. Another week or so, he reckoned, and they would be able to start walking once again. For now, though, they were going to use what time remained as much as possible.

Gorren riffled through the materials he had already prepared for the occasion, but he did so only half-attentively. Behind him, the sounds of Argus and Scarlet bickering - or, well, the girl bickering and the boy saying sorry - lifted his heart. It had been worth it, he decided. All the suffering and doubts and anguish; it had been worth it from the moment that Scarlet had started laughing, and only more so now.

My children. As he heard them laugh and argue and talk, there was a shard of light lodged in his chest, a small bit of happiness almost oppressing in its intensity. He sighed shakily, feeling responsibility and anxiety weighing down on his shoulder like a boulder. I… i will do my best for you, i promise.

The promise helped him to steady himself. With a small grunt, he smoothed his robe, pushing away the last remnants of his agitation. He couldn’t be a good teacher without being lucid after all.

“Listen to me now,” he said, turning to face the beds.

The attention of the duo was instantly on him. He wavered, impossibly wondering for a moment if what he planned for was what a good Father would be. Don’t be ridiculous now. Of course you need to teach them.

He never had been more grateful for his ability to mask his emotions as in that moment. He coughed. Why did he always turn into a bumbling fool when it came to his children? Stupid question. Of course that he knew why. Alright, enough stupid thoughts. It was time to go to business.

“From today, i will teach you,” he announced and continued as both children’s eyes widened. “I will teach you how the world works, how to live and how to bear yourself. Moreover, i will teach you how to control your bodies and your powers.” Returning to the role of the teacher gave him back a measure of his confidence. “As I’ve already said, i expect that you obey me and respect me. I am your father, and as such you owe me this. As your teacher, doubly so. Is that clear?”

The duo - or at least one of the two - would have probably found something to say about that, but at the moment they were too excited for the news to do anything but nod quickly.

“Good.” Gorren was pleased by his children’s obedience. As much as he was attached to them, he remained a stickler when it came to respect. “Let’s start right away then.” With a gesture, he made one of the papers floats and unroll, until a large map of the known continents was unfurled before the children’s wide-eyed gazes.

“Let me tell you about Midgard, the world we live in.”

The lesson revolved around a broad, if simple, description of the world they lived in. Gorren felt silly at having to explain that there was a sky, earth and sea, but the duo’s taken expressions kept him going. He spoke to them of the sun and the moon, the trees and the grass, of the clouds and the wind, of the animals and humans and those that humans weren’t. It was a long lesson, maybe even lacking order and not really the most adapt to be the first, but Gorren wanted for them to have a broad idea of everything before going down into details.

He talked to them for a long time, enrapturing them with descriptions of the world that laid beyond those walls, a world that they once believed to begin and end there, but turned out to be infinitely more vast and more beautiful than they could have ever imagined.

The first day passed like that, and so the second and the third. Argus and Scarlet passed both evenings and part of the nights to recount excitedly what their Father had told them; and when they finally slept, their dreams were full with the vistas of the outer world.

The fourth day, Gorren began his lesson with a single phrase.

“Let’s talk about magic.”

Having already finished her breakfast, Scarlet jumped to excited attention, while Argus hurried to cram down his own food.

Gorren waited for both to be ready and listening, then started.

“Magic is the control and manifestation of Mana.” He said. “But what are its tools? How do we manifest our intentions through magic? The answer is simple: spells. A spell is an intention given form, its materialization into reality; mana-wise, it‘s a construct.” The old man started pacing around the room. “Mana forms reality by aggregating into structures. A mage replicates that same process by assembling Mana into some of those same structures; he copies, essentially, and in doing so change the world.” Gorren paused, giving their words the time to sink in, then resumed.

“Technically speaking, a mage could cast a spell through his thoughts alone. In reality, the greater majority of mages need props: materials, focus and somatic components. All of them are parts, essential parts!, of the spell structure. The most powerful the spell the more difficult is its assembly, more complicated its components, more deep the sacrifices it requires.”

Gorren stopped to grin at the children, that listened enraptured.

“But enough of this.” He said. “Let’s talk about schools, shall we?”

The children nodded dumbly.

Frowning, Gorren folded his arms before his chest. “Spells can be gathered into groups said Schools. This division lacks a strong rigor but it’s explicative enough. It’s roughly based upon the effects of the spells. Here.”

Methodically, Gorren explained what types of Schools existed. They are as follow:

- Universal, or Jeu: under this school falls all the spells that use Mana in its raw form. Comprised mostly of basic spells that any mage worth his salt should know, it tends to become more increasingly difficult in its advanced forms than the other Schools. Fundamental war spells like Mana Shields or Mana Armor are part of this school, as well as the spells that enhance the body. Effects from some of the spells of this School can be replicated by non-mages through training.

- Elementalism, or Ta‘um: this School groups all the element-based spells. The main elements are Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Dark and Light. There exist secondary elements as well, born by further insight in the basic ones, special dispositions or mix of main elements, and they number in the dozens.

- Biomancy, or Antara: the school of life and healing. The spells of the Antara allow a mage to mend wounds and heal sickness, as well as control bodies and the essence of life itself. It’s closely affiliated with Light Magic.

- Necromancy, or Namara: the school of death and undeath. The spells gathered under this school specialize in causing sickness, drain life and the creation and control of the undeath. Strangely enough, it contains also methods to destroy the same undead it produces. Closely affiliated with Dark Magic.

- Mentalism, or Kur: better known as Mind Magic, this School comprises of the abilities to read thoughts, alter memories and manipulate or control the mind; as well as the ability known as telekinesis. It’s a dangerous school, as touching others’ minds can easily bring one to lose the integrity of his own. Only the most disciplined and strong-willed can attempt the spells of this school without going mad.

- Enchantment, or Tuan: this school contains all the mechanisms with which a mage can imbue materials with magical properties. It’s a difficult discipline that requires long study and a deep understanding of the materials and the spells used. It’s the second of the three Schools that can be used by non-mages as well.

- Transmutation, or Seena: the spells falling under this school transform, be it raw materials or living creatures. Like Tuan, a deep understanding of the components used and the process involved is required, but it‘s even more difficult and master transmuters are rare as a consequence.

- Abjuration, or Aten: a strange school that calls upon the negative layers of the Mana. Abjuration spells are able to repel and destroy magic through the emanation of a negative field of energy, that at higher levels can become a true maelstrom of destruction. Abjurers are rare and very far-in-between but invariably make for fearsome opponents.

- Illusiomancy, or K’thar: spells that summon illusions or distort the senses are grouped under this school. Since this school is similar to mind magic, illusionists have to take care to keep their powers under control.

- Spiritmancy, or Hu: this school rules over spells that pertain to the soul. It’s prohibited.

- Evocation, or Jebu: all spells that result in the summoning of creatures from other planes are gathered under this School. Many examples of this School falls under Divine Magic, as it requires the favor of the Deity that oversees the plane one intends to summon from. The rest regard the summoning and binding of elemental spirits living in the Material Plane.

- Sight Magic, or Sen: less of a group of spell and more of a discipline, Sight Magic designates the ability to perceive Mana and its movements, as well as the ways one can protect himself from such scrutiny. It’s the third School that can be learned by non-mages.

- Dimensional Magic, or Tudok: a School created by Gorren An-Tudok during his research into the fundamental laws of the universe. Its spells can manipulate space and the barriers between dimensions, and are based over the different frequencies that identify membership to a certain plane. Its incredible complexity, as well its reliance on different principles than the other Schools, makes it the most difficult group to master.

“Don’t think that this list contains everything,” Gorren warned. “Magic is first of all multifaceted and it can happen for a spell to straddle the line between two different Schools. Still, this differentiation will help you greatly nonetheless.”

He watched them. Argus was frowning in concentration, struggling to remember everything. Scarlet, instead, looked having trouble not to cross her eyes and go down like a sack of potatoes.

Gorren kept the smile tugging at his lips from showing. “Of course, the Schools refer to the form the spells take, but they don’t include the origin of the energy that is used, nor the method that is used to cast. For that, we have Types.” He chuckled a bit as the duo looked startled, even Argus‘ calm countenance slipping. “But that’s for next time.” He patted both, secretly proud of how they had handled their first lesson. “Rest now. We’ll talk again soon.”

Once Gorren was gone, the duo remained in silence. They would discuss what Father had told them but later. For now, they just sat there, digesting the new notions.