Author's notes:

This chapter took a bit more than expected because it came out much bigger than I thought it would. I even thought about splitting it up to two, but I decided that it's better as one piece. I hope you enjoy. As always, critique, good and bad alike, is always welcomed.

Chapter XII: Revelations

Martyn looked at the clear sunlight bursting throught the wide windows in the large common hall they were standing. Around him his classmates and the rest of the new apprentices were already forming pairs as instructed. The lively atmosphere created by the chattering people around him as they tried to mingle reminded him that they were, in it's core, just a school. The intense duel a few days ago, his own harsh self training, everything else that contrasted with the peaceful and excited youth around him was dwarfed by the laughs, shouts and arguments echoing all around him.

"Hey! I think Margie is checking you out man!" Donnie whispered next to him.

When the teachers asked them to form pairs, the two of them were the obvious choice. People were still cold or afraid towards him, and Donnie hasn't made things easier for himself by earning dozens of nicknames from the female populace of the academy, none of which was of the playful type.

"The same way you said Lorrie was checking you out before she fireblasted your ass Donnie?" Martyn shot back.

"Hey! Not cool, she was just shy. She'll come around, you'll see. But really, Margie IS checking you out. Look she is coming towards us!"

Martyn looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, and looked towards where Donnie's eyes pointed. To his utter surprise, the short redhair was indeed walking towards them, her eyes glued to his.

As she approached, she turned her head towards Donnie, and with a deadpan stare she spoke in her usual, flat, manner.

"Leave Donovan."

"Wha..."

"I'll pair up with Martyn for this exercise. Find someone else."

"That's not fair! Bond with him after this! Whom am I supposed to pair with if you take up our hulking friend here?"

"...I don't care? Why don't you ask that blonde you keep drooling over? Now leave."

Martyn was dumbfounded as he kept staring at the two people arguing about him, completely ignoring that he was sitting just in front of them.

"Eh... guys, I don't think that..."

Ignoring him, Margie interrutped him, still having her attention focused on the boy next to him.

"Look, leave now and I'll consider that incident with my robe forgotten. I'll maybe even consider telling to the few girls I know that you're not a complete lecher."

A bright smile shone on Donnie's face as he shot up from where he was standing.

"Well, I don't think that people see me as a lecher, but if you insist so much, I don't see why I can't try! Mind you, If I don't find anyone... worthwhile... to pair up, I'll be back!" He said as he was already making his way towards a small assemply of girls from the s5 class that seemed to be of odd numbers.

"What was this about?" Martyn asked, eyeing the short girl suspiciously. In his mind, scenarios of her having an issue with him were already being formed. No good will come out of this he thought to himself.

Margie calmly rearranged her robe, fixed her glasses, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"There are rumors floating around that you defeated that brat, Evan, in a duel."

It wasn't a question. Martyn felt like she was just retelling facts.

"You used counterspelling to do so, against a, so called, prodigy spellsword. Impressive."

"...And?"

"I want you to try to do this against me. Now."

As she spoke, a circle started forming in front of her palm. Promted by her, almost, command Martyn releashed his mana threads, easily bypassing her thin circle. As his mind caught up with the event around him, he noticed that it was just a protection spell, although not similar to what he already knew. Instantly relaxing that she wasn't try to kill him for whatever reason, he took a breath trying to recompose himself.

His momentary distraction allowed the spell to finish uninterrupted. And out of nowhere, Martyn found himself surrounded by a sphere made out energy.

"You are not taking this seriously I see. So I've modified my spell a bit. It's a complete protection bubble. Not even air passes through. Simply speaking, you would suffocate in it. Any chance for you to interrupt me would also have to pass through the sphere protection as well. Giving me the upper hand to keep this going. Boom. I've just killed you."

She finished as she dispersed the spell, her gaze never leaving Martyn's, wide opened eyes.

"Once more, focus this time. Take me lightly again, and you'll regret it."

Martyn, still unable to understand what, and why, this was happenning, nodded. This time, his full concentration was focused on the spell as it was being woven.

Once more, he easily slipped through the circle, but as he reached the actual runes he was surprised to see that they were almost impeccable made, rivaling his own that took ages to form regardless if Margie made hers in an instant.

Counterspelling was based on disrupting the runes; to do so you just had to slip your own threads into the spell. But to do so, there had to be some form of edge, tear, imperfection on the actual rune to use as an entry point. Basically, as long as you had as fine threads of mana as Martyn's, it was almost trivial to do so in all of his tries so far, but against a perfect rune, it was impossible.

"There" Martyn saw a tiny hole, enough for his threads to slip in after a few seconds of proding and feeling the spell.

He split his threads even more in order for them to fit in, but before he had time to finish, his mana sight was cut as the protective bubble once more formed around him.

"I thought I told you to take me seriously."

"I did. I just wasn't fast enough."

This time Martyn didn't wait for her. He had already seen the spell as it was being cast. His threads had already penetrated the weave of the bubble around him, and with a pull, he undid them, dissolving the spell by himself.

"I didn't counter you because your weaving was excellent, not because I didn't try. There are still holes though, and I'm sure that next time it won't be a guaranteed success for you. Even against Evan, I wasn't able to counter all of his spells, just some. It's the same against you as well."

"So you're just reaffirming what I know. That Evan is a fool. A spellsword should focus on just a few spells and make them perfect. If he had done so instead of trying to play the wonder boy and master a gadzillion spells, you would have lost... interesting."

"I'm not sure. Even against you, who have much firmer control than him, I still found gaps in your runes. So... all this masquerade with Donnie and pairing up was just so you could test me?"

"Perhaps. You said you found holes in my casting. Let's try again."

This time it was easy for Martyn. He didn't know if he had upset her, no emotions were visible on this one's face, but he found an imperfection on her runes almost instantly, and countered the spell with ease.

"...I see. You're not just words. Where was the flaw?"

"I wouldn't call it a flaw, but the weaving on your second rune was a lot less dense compared to the first time."

"Hmm, then let's..."

"Attention apprentices."

Kat's sharp voice, aided with magic, echoed through the hall. Behind her, Master Tisior stood, surveying the people around him.

"I hope you already formed pairs as instructed. We are now going to teach you the rudimentary healing spells. Remember, even if you think you know them, it is forbidden to use them unless you are given direct permission from an adept, life or death situations exluded of course. Master?"

Tisior looked once more around him before he cleared his throat and started speaking, loud enough to be heard by all, but not using tricks like Kathlyn to enhance his volume.

"Under my, and my adept's, instructions we will show you how to close a simple wound on a fellow member. This is something you cannot do to yourself, hence the pairing. Even if you do know how to heal yourself, don't even think of doing so. I trust that you found someone whom you can trust with this, since they will be directly manipulating your inner mana. Keep in mind that we are here so as to make certain you won't do any permanent harm to your fellow apprentices, but also know that if you would indeed cause such harm, the least you need to worry about is expulsion. Anyone who fears he is not good enough may leave. Now, as for the actual spell..."

*

It was Martyn's tenth try, and he was finally feeling like he was getting the hang of it. Of course, Margie easily casted a perfect version of the spell three times in a row, as she did know it, and had practiced it hundreds of times before.

It wasn't the lengthy, difficult incantation the problem. Nor was it the detail that it was required so as to make certain that you won't somehow mess up with the inner mana of a person. What overwhelmed him the most was the beauty of one's inner mana, one's soul, in such a thorough examination as the one required by the spell. It mesmerized him as he watched its currents ebb and flow within the body.

He located the wound and traced the mana around it. Where the solid mana was cut, tiny tendrils, like someone had hastily cut a raw, corse fabric, danced around; desperately trying to reconnect with the strands on the other side of the cut. He gently pushed them closer using his own mana, trying to make them touch each other, and started forming the incantation. When he was certain that there was not a single flaw in it, he raised his hand, never losing sight of either his own threads keeping Margie's on place, nor the ones that were forming the dozens of runes a few centimeters above the actual wound.

Seeing his hand in the air, an adept approached and started inspecting the runes.

"Looks fine, complete it" He gave his permission.

As Martyn finished the spell he saw the tendrils touch each other and, like an unstopable torrent, Margie's inner mana rushed to fill the void and repair the damage. Within seconds, the tiny cut on her hand closed.

Martyn reveled at the sight. The beauty of the spell lied in it's simplicity. With just a fraction of his own mana, the patient's own inner reserves took care of the actual repairing of the body. Always trying to bring back the body in it's original, pristine condition, the only thing one had to do was to momentarily bridge the gap of the inner mana where it was severed, and it took care of everything afterwards.

"Forgive me apprentice, but we need to make certain that everyone feels comfortable enough to cast this even in dire circumstances" Tisior's soft voice echoed above both of them.

In the blink of the eye three spells formed around his palm. The first one erased any kind of mark the hastily closed wound would have left on the skin, the second removed all feelings of pain from Margie's hand, and the third one caused her arm, from the elbow till the wrist, to fill with ten small slashes.

"Now, close those on your own. Call us only if you think you did something stupid."

As the master mage and the adept left, moving on to the next pair of raised hands, Martyn heard Margie sigh.

"Ok... this is officially boring. You know the spell, have done it already perfectly ten times, and we still haven't finished our earlier discussion."

Martyn, focusing on the mana, trying to find all the loose, cut, strands of her mana, heard her voice only as something akin to background noise.

Unfazed, she continued. "So, how about it, since you'll take like half an hour to finish, I'll start casting shield spells and you'll tell me where their faults are."

Martyn had nearly moved the strands into place when out of nowhere the inner mana started bulking and swirling violently as it rushed towards Margie's uninjured hand. Terrified he looked up, towards the point of origin of the chaotic motion, only to see it rushing out of her body and forming thin strands of mana as they started making some shielding runes. Margie's voice was much more clear to him this time as she spoke once again.

"Good, it seems I finally have your attention. Now, tell me, are there any flaws in my incantation?"

"Are you crazy? I could have completely sever your mana flow!"

"No you couldn't. Such a tiny scar you are fixing, at most would have left a tiny hole in my outer mana sheath that would repair itself within the day. It doesn't fit a barbarian to be a crybaby over such small matters, think of it as extra exercise, monitoring both my inner and outer mana at once. Now, tell me, or else I'm really going to pour all my mana into this spell and this will definitely mess up my inner mana."

Her voice had her usual matter-of-fact statement tone. It wasn't a question or an order, it was like she was simply stating what was to happen. But what made him pause was her eyes. In such a close proximity it was the first time he could see them clearly despite the thick lenses of her glasses, and despite the tone of her voice, they held countless emotions. He could clearly see excitement running wild inside them, a hint of passion and just enough mischievousness dancing within them. But what really threw him off balance was the fleeting presence of a deep caring expression as she glanced over her own spell; it was more like a mother looking her child rather than a worker his tools. For a moment he felt as mesmerized by those eyes as when he was looking at her inner mana.

"So?" Her blant voice once more interrupted his train of thought. "Any flaws? Remember, this is training, keep checking my spell and keep trying to make your own. You'll never be able to cast more than one spell at a time if you don't practice such rudimentary techniques."

*

"The weaving on your third rune now is weak. And I can still see some flaws on the second one." Martyn told her as he was desperately trying to keep control of his own spell.

With each cast it was becoming harder and harder to keep up. Each time he would point a flaw in her spell she would simply let it go and refine it even more, based on his observations, till he would have to thin his vision even more to spot the tiny cracks in her weaving. Of course, it wasn’t a perfect method, when someone had casted a spell the same way hundreds of times it was tough to simply alter it on the spot. Old flaws would keep re-emerging and her new corrections would usually just last for a try or two. Her speed had also slowed down to a crawl as she tried to weave her threads with as much precision as she could muster.

On the other hand, her inner mana was slowly depleting and was a swirling mass of chaos, making his own attempts to find the cut strands a nightmare.

He heard her muttering "Good, Good…" but he wasn’t sure if it was directed to him or her own self as she once more formed her shielding spell based on his corrections. But as she let it dissolve, without waiting for him to examine it this time, she turned to him and spoke; this time there was no mistake whom she was addressing.

"Good. Consider yourself to be under the employment of the Ragrid family from now on." She declared.

"What?" The confusion was enough for him to completely lose the few stray edges that he had find.

"Well it is only a matter of time till people realise the value in such sharp eyes, and your stupid duel with Evan will only expedite this. It would be unfair for another, stuck up, noble to claim you, especially since I’ve been watching you since you started doing that thing you do with piercing the academy wards. Not to mention that my family is one of the few around here that could actually make use of your talents in serious matters and not stupid politics."

"I still can’t understand you. Claim me? For the time being, the only thing I want is to perfect my craft and then return to my people."

This time there was pure sympathy as she looked him straight in the eyes.

"Poor soul.,, you still think they’ll let you leave unconditionally? There is not a chance for that, especially when they’ll realize your value. You are in the hornet’s nest here. Most of the people you see come from the most prestigious families of the plains; even nobles from the capital. They’ll wrap you up in servitude without you even realizing how it happened."

"Like how you’re trying to scare me now? I won’t be manipulated so easily as you think Margie."

"Oh? Won’t you? Let me tell you then. Your good friend? Donovan? He claims he is from a minor family from the borders, right? You can relate to him, he is easy going and maybe a bit too foolish. A guy you spend all this time with. Now me? I wouldn't trust him at all. I am from a minor family in the borders as well. I can’t tell you if he is outright lying or a real fool, but no one from a minor family that I know of would ridicule himself to the political monsters that roam these halls. We are too prideful for that, and occasions such as these are one of the few ways we can forge or reinforce alliances. And without a strong ally... you die. Ridiculing oneself just for the fun of it isn’t usually an option for us. And the second one? Kathlyn? I… I wouldn’t touch this one with a ten foot pole. But if you feel confidant that you won’t be lured in, then I can simply offer you a deal."

Martyn looked at her again. A mask of deep sadness was covering her face as her eyes wandered around, like recalling something, like this whole speech was directed to her and not him.

"So, here’s my deal shaman. I’ve been granted special privileges by the countess for access in the academy’s library. There is no better place for someone to study runes, no better place for someone trying to learn all the known enchantments. I can extend that privilege to those who work for me. I do not hide the fact that with your help I can perfect my own magic far beyond what I could by myself. And my magic, my shielding, is the only way I have to protect my men, the paltry amount of soldiers that keep my city safe. So here it is: If you can find an error in my next, and last, spell, I will grant you this access for free. If not, I will again grant you this access, but in turn you’ll work for me. I would advice you to take the deal."

Martyn felt like he wanted to help this girl. From somewhere within he saw her as a fragile being calling for help, and something was urging him to protect that. Regardless, while what she spoke made sense, he was confident in his ability to judge people. And sure, Donnie might be hiding something, but he had spent enough time with him to be almost certain that there wasn’t anything malicious with him. And really, who didn’t hide anything? Even he was holding in countless secrets. And Kathlyn? After the initial, over the top, approach, seemed to be genuinely interested in him, his magic and his progress.

But access to the library was a big thing. Something reserved for adepts. He would save valuable time if he didn’t have to wait till he rose in ranks to study there. Time that he could spend back in his homeland, seeking answers. And he had seen what the girl could do, he was certain that he could find flaws in anything she could cast.

"Sure, let’s do this."

He saw the familiar runes forming in front of her clenched fist. No protective circle this time around them, not that it would matter. As he traced them with his own mana, trying to find the expected flaws, panic started taking over him. He couldn’t see any of the previous gaps and tears in them.

Was she luring me all along? Can she actually weave thinner than I can see? No. It doesn’t make sense, she wouldn’t need me if this was the case.

His freedom and pride in the line he started splitting his threads even thinner than before. Still, the runes seemed completely perfect, not a single blemish on them.

Impossible he thought as he kept trying to split his thread even more, his head thumbing with a brooding headache.

And then it happened. In the blink of the eye, from his previously forgotten threads inside of her, he saw her inner mana transforming. Where there used to be a sea of solid mana, now he was seeing that in reality it was just a bungled up mess of million, barely perceptible, threads that coiled and moved, and split, and danced and constantly kept moving inside her. All around him, there wasn’t a single solid source of mana. Even the weaves of his other fellow apprentices, they were just a bunch of spiraling, coiled, thin threads, even thinner than his own, that they bunched up together until they were at their perceived thickness.

And the inner mana in front of him, the mass of uncountable tiny threads that gave the illusion of the previous solid state, he could now easily see where it was cut. What he previously thought that were the few perceivable cut strands of mana, he could now distinguish that it was because the actual hundreds of cut mana strands had bunched up together in a few, thick, bundles.

There was something else in those edges, something just outside his perception. Ignoring his splitting headache, he willed his threads to become even thinner. And there it was.

Each of the bundles had a slightly different texture. Some were coarser, other had a slightly different hue, others were slightly edged and others smooth. He followed them towards the mass of the strands that were the inner mana. True to his inkling, the individual strands had the same varying textures. He could count thirteen different textures and hues, the smoothest, completely round, one was the crushing majority of the threads though.

He switched, focusing his sight on his own threads, and surely enough, The same thirteen textures were present as well. But in his own outer weave the smooth one was the minority, while the rougher one, and another, slightly edged one, was the majority of the strands.

As in a trance, he didn’t even bothered with the shielding spell. Instead he casted the healing spell on the strands he was surveying. He saw them slowly unwinding, separating to individual strands again, as they reached towards their counterparts, conjoining and repairing themselves.

For a split second his whole field of vision blurred, but he kept looking at the strands becoming one with the mass of inner mana again. Something far away was disturbing him.

"…in"

"…in"

"Martin!"

A violent motion brought him back, as his mana sight completely closed, leaving him only with his own normal vision. He head was feeling like someone had hit it with a club repeatedly, and his eyes burned, searing pain invading through them at the sight of the abundant sunlight around them.

Margie had turned him to face towards the wall, and positioned herself between him and the rest of the class, like she was trying to shield him from their view. There was a hint of anxiety in her motions, but unbridled excitement oozed from every pore of hers.

"You saw something! Your threads suddenly disappeared, and then your eyes started shining and your face brightened up in pure ecstasy! What? What did you see? Are you ok now? Can you see me?"

Her hands slightly trembled from the fear and the excitement as she reached and took out a cloth napkin and started to wipe off something wet out of his face.

As Martyn slowly regained his senses, his eyes and head still hurting like demons were picking them apart, he saw the bloodied napkin. Margie's akward movements seemed to have started drawing a bit of attention from other pairs around them as well, including a few of the adepts; one of which started walking towards them curiously.

"Close your eyes now Martyn, they can't see you bleeding now." She whispered as she wiped off all the last of the blood stains off his face.

As the Adept reached them, Margie looked up towards him and in her casual deadpan voice barked at him.

"Do you mind? My partner almost finished healing me as you can see. Give him some space."

Confused at the order, the young adept moved back, muttering something about entitled apprentices on his way.

"So? What did you see?"

Martyn was still trying to organise the thoughts on his mind, but what mattered the most to him at this moment was for the constant nagging that only helped making his headache even worse to stop.

"I saw you cheating."

"Cheating?"

"The last spell didn't come from you. It came from a mana source within your hand."

Margie smiled as she opened her fist, revealing a small ring with an inlaid, tiny, translucent stone.

"You mean this? This is the signet ring of the Ragrids." She said filled with pride. "Given to us by the emperor himself to commemorate our ascendance into nobility. It's the symbol of authority of the leader of the family. A Crystal ring that produces a perfect, personal, shield."

"Yeah... so our deal is off."

"How so? What part of the original agreement spoke against the usage of items?" She smirked as she continued. "I won't hold you for that deal. Those were just words spoken between friends. But I think I made my point. Any other noble would have this agreement in writing, and would have you in their clutches by now. You didn't even inquired what the terms of servitude would have been."

Martyn looked up puzzled towards her.

"Maybe you aren't as clever as you think barbarian. People here can be vicious to take what they want. My offer to work for me stands, and I urge you to quickly make up your mind, because you will be bound to someone sooner than you think. As for what you actually saw... I'll let you tell this to me by yourself when you want, but don't think even for a second I didn't realise that you saw something else when you peeked at my magic. For now, let's talk about something different. Tell me of your homeland. You are from the savage north right? That place always amazed me!"

*

As the lesson concluded and Margie left, he saw Donnie casually strolling towards him. His usual expression was gone this time. Martyn could swear that it was the first time he was looking concerned. Margie's opinion about him instantly crossed his mind.

"You're ok there bud?"

"Eh... yeah. Tired from the lesson."

"I thought I saw Margie doing something weird to you at a point, you're sure?"

"Yeah Donnie, don't worry..."

Donnie sighted as he looked at the girl's back as she was leaving in the distance.

"It's a tragic story really... but don't let her drag you in her pit of paranoia."

"Her what now?"

Donnie's face twisted in a comical and puzzled grimace as he looked towards him.

"Didn't she tell you? Haven't I told you about her before?"

"Tell me what?"

"The girl's a mess Martyn... and it's not even her fault. You really don't know about her family at all?"

"Stop being annoying man, I can clearly see that you want to tell the story, just do so!"

"Ok, ok. She is from a small city right at the border. So, sixty years ago, during a war of her county, against some tribe of yours, they were just in the middle of all hostilities. During such a skirmish, her grandfather, a master support mage, managed to keep a whole platoon of warriors shielded, preventing the fall of the town against the barbarian assault. After this feat, he naturally assumed the leadership of the platoon, and kept the city safe, just by himself and those people, until the end of the war. The emperor then, in recognition of his talents, made him a noble and gave him control of the city.

But as it turned out, all this was nothing but political maneuvering from the duke of the province. With her grandfather now a noble of the city, he retreated the county's troups out of there in order to stop having to support such a distant martial force, claiming that it was her grandfather's 'right' to defend his area.

Regardless the fact that everyone thought that the duke had abandoned the area to it's fate, too close to the forest to defend properly, the Ragrids proved to be excellent negotiators; especially her father. Loved by the city folks, and through his peaceful views, he even managed a truce between them and the barbarians.

Before long, the city prospered as a major trading route between your people and ours. And when everything seemed to be going smoothly, the disaster happened. Someone assassinated the whole family. Margaret Ragrid, Margie, was the only survivor, and the rumors say that this only happened because her father used his seal to protect his baby daughter, effectively sacrificing himself.

Amidst the chaos of all this, the duke reemerged, leading the investigations to find the 'culprits'. Of course, since then Margie was just ten years old, he also appointed a regent of his own to run the city until she will be of age. And under the pretenses of a few guards the duke has posted, he keeps siphoning, through the regent, all the money that comes throught the commerce."

"Her family was murdered? A noble family and no one did anything?" Martyn interupted him.

"Everyone knows that the guy is dirty. Everyone knows that he had some sort of connection to the murder. But of course, no one will talk against one of the ten strongest families in the whole continent.

And so Margie has slowly become a paranoid girl who thinks that every noble is dirty, that every one of us is seeking to either harm her, or that we spend all of our time simply manipulating everyone around us.

The girl doesn't has a single genuine friend, for her, everyone is an enemy. And it's a shame really, they say that she is a genius when it comes to spell design, having made her own spells even from before she became an official apprentice.

The first time I saw we were in the same class, I instantly tried to befirend her. Tried to show her that not all nobles care that much about politics and aren't all a bunch of backstabbing assholes. But she took offence at my approach, she even thought that I was somehow trying to trick her so as to take advantage of her.

Heh... I'm sure if you chatted with her a bit there wouldn't be a single noble that she wouldn't find somehow 'suspicious'

As much as I want her to be happy... for a barbarian who people already see as an outsider... I wouldn't spend too much time with her if I were you. Hell! People already think you are wierd because you spend time with me!" Donnie tried to finish up with a more cheerful undertone. But he quickly realised that after all this, a joke wasn't enough to ease the atmosphere.

"...I see." Martyn said; some things clicking into position. "Gotta go rest now Donnie, this lesson really tired me, see ya tomorrow."