I suppress a yawn as once again I look down on the schematics in front of me, ready to make some more adjustments that might make my magic-armor-construct more efficient and viable. To my surprise, I can see that an entire new version of the arms parts has been completed. Unsure of when or how I have drawn such a detailed thing, I can feel my vision muddy up with tiredness. I reach for the mug to my side, ready to consume some more of my trusty energy potion in order to start the task of reviewing this thing which I don't really really remember drawing.

As I raise the mug to my lips, I realize I have two really big problems: First, there is no energy potion left in the mug. Second, I don't really remember what I was going to do after taking that energy potion. Third, I feel really, really, extremely tired.

“Curses, stupid, empty mug. What time is it again? Where is my damned Dawnstone?”

As I mumble to myself, I carefully lay the mug on the same place it was before and make a monumental effort to stand up from my chair. After briefly rubbing my forehead and temples in a desperate attempt to stave off the sleepiness that assaulted me, I head to the part of my office where my Dawnstone should be. Dawnstone, the useful magic tool that almost every citizen of the dwarven kingdom of Tharaz Eron has in their house. Serving as a kind of “window”, it glows brighter and brighter as the sun climbs the sky, then growing dimmer as the day ends and being completely dark at night. A very useful tool in getting a general feel for the time if one does not want to spend a fortune on a clock.

As I put my hand on where the Dawnstone of this room should be, I feel myself grabbing a quite heavy and thick piece of cloth. Vaguely, somewhere in my mind, I realize that at some point, bothered by the bright light it was emitting, I may have covered it. I really do prefer the gentler light of light orbs. Unfortunately, not being completely awake, I did not realize that uncovering it might not be the best idea.

“There you are. Now... let's see roughly what time...” As I pull back the cloth, light assault my poor eyes that were accustomed for the past few hours to a much dimmer environment. “Ah fuck! Shit! The light...” I scramble to cover the Dawnstone again, as I realize that I perhaps may been awake for way longer than advisable. But it couldn't be helped, Tharaz Eron's combat abilities wouldn't be changed by a regular sleep schedule. But sleep I need! I trudge to the small bed I have in the office for just such a situation and collapse on it, letting my mind be taken by the sleep that my body craved so much.

“Kardenon Therynia! Kardenon Therynia! Answer this damned door or I will fucking blast it with a fireball.”

Some time later, I was woke up by heavy knocks on the door to my office and someone calling my name and hurling profanities. Really, what an unpleasant way to wake up. Sometimes I wonder if us Dwarves just really have no respect for nobility.

“Alright, alright. There's no need to blast anything. I'm opening it.”

I talk sleepily as I get up and take absolutely no time to fix my appearance. As I expected, the one knocking on my door was Thurleon, the king's representative in the University of Theron, located in Tharaz, capital of Tharaz Eron. No, there's nothing wrong it's name. It just predates the city being called Tharaz.

“Well, good to know that at least you're alive, Therynia, but I have to say, you look like shit.”

Of course, the asshole with a potty mouth, rudely interrupting my sleep has to be another noble. Really, such a disgrace.

“Well, I feel like shit too, so, that's how it goes. Now, might I know why are you intruding in my work space at this time?”

Of course, I just had to know the reason for such a callous invasion, but Thurleon just looked at me confused for a moment, before covering his face with the palm of his hand and sighing.

“What do you mean, this time? Weren't you supposed to have a test today with a more optimized version of your... magic-suit-construct?”

Of course, first I had to correct him.

“Magic-armor-construct.” He rolled his eyes at that. Damned philistine! “And wasn't the test in the evening?”

Of course, being disrespectful every chance he got, Thurleon took the time to shake his head several times then sigh again before he deemed to answer my question.

“Yes, it is in the evening, it is evening right now, so I came to get you and the new schematics for the tests.”

Realizing just how “late” I slept made me panic inside a little. I did not have lunch, or a snack in the afternoon. How am I supposed to have a properly functioning mind during the test in order to evaluate it if I don't take proper meals? Would that bastard Thurleon be so unreasonable as to not let me eat before the test?

“Oh, of course! How silly of me... I was just so distracted with all the things...”

But unfortunately, Thurleon wasn't nearly as stupid as he looked and after a quick glance around my room, his eyes sharpened and he took on quite the accusatory tone.

“Distracted? You didn't cover the Dawnstone, did you? I distinctly remember the university's own Grandmaster prohibiting you from covering your damned Dawnstone! Sleeping when the sun is rising is bad enough, but sleeping during the day because of irresponsibility...”

Now that was a problem. Other people didn't really like my erratic sleep schedule. I say they should mind their own business, but unfortunately the Grandmaster did have some authority over me. Now, if only someone would keep quiet about this whole covering Dawnstone business...

“And you were talking about new schematics... Of course I have them...”

As I turned to my worktable and flipped through the many schematics there, I realized that I had another problem. All of the schematics I had drawn yesterday, albeit not identical, were all of merely the arms part of my magic-armor-construct. Of course, it had incalculable worth in testing an optimization measure I had thought of yesterday, but I am pretty sure I was expected to have one single new version for the entire thing, not many variations on one part.

“I don't know what I expected. Whatever, I guess we will just have to get the tester to create a bunch of different of arms that will be equally useless.”

Really, what a cretin. Not only would he look over my shoulder at secret information, he was already calling a premature failure on the test. Ugh, if I have the time, once the test is done I will write a complaint to the Grandmaster and the King.

“Well, we won't know the results of the tests until we perform them, that is the point of these tests.”

Once again, he rolled his eyes at me. I must say that I am quite amazed at how respectful I am to someone that is so unpleasant to be around.

“Right, like this time it's going to be different.”

Really, I am a paragon of patience, enduring such baseless and impertinent abuse.

\

Less than an hour later, after I was allowed to eat to sandwich to satisfy my hunger, I handed the many different versions of the new and optimized way in which the arm part was to be made to the new tester. I hope that this new tester is at least marginally more competent compared to the others, which always failed completely to materialize any of my ideas.

To my chagrin, the first thing he did as I handed the schematics was look skeptical.

“Hmm, Mr. Therynia, are these really right? Did you even calculate the mana output of these circuits? Or even the Mana needed to operate every core of the arm? Do you have any idea how much concentration is needed in order to make circuits that thin? I...”

I could hardly believe it as I listened to these words. How dare he question me in such a way? Calculate the output? This is magic we are talking about! Magic! Instincts and meaning are way more important than stupid numbers on a piece of paper.

“Calculate? Are you mad? Do you think I am some kind of detail obsessive gnome that spends more than a decade writing a book on how to calculate the perfectly efficient basic fireball? That's just rubbish! I am a red-blooded dwarf! We forge and create and manipulate the earth with our hearts! Our minds!”

Unfortunately, my impassioned speech swayed no one in the room. In fact, Thurleon seemed horrified.

“You, what? You did not calculate, anything? All of this time?” Without a care for the consequences I nodded at that question. “I see... I see! It all makes sense now! I thought you were just keeping your calculations hidden because you didn't want anyone to steal your work... But to think you're actually an irresponsible loon.”

An irresponsible loon? How absurd! So in the end, the University wasn't the answer for my looking for a place to develop my idea. What a pity.

“So to you, I am just an irresponsible loon. I understand now, these years I spent in this university studying useless garbage and boring things amounted to nothing, because in the end, my idea just doesn't really fit here, huh.”

That's kind of a problem for me. I had already tried speaking with my father, but he told me that there was no point to craftsmen becoming warriors. Then I tried speaking with the Grandmaster of Tharaz's Knight Academy, but they all found it stupid to waste so much training and mana on creating an extra layer of armor when they could just equip it themselves. The Shaper's Academy yielded similar results, with the Grandmaster thinking it was stupid to treat one's golem as some kind of armor. And now, this stupid so-called learning institution shows its true colors.

“Wait... Did you just casually call the knowledge being passed down in this university garbage?”

Who cares. I guess there is nowhere left for me to go in Tharaz Eron. I do like the comforts of home, but oh well, as long as I have my energy potion brewing kit with me, I can go anywhere. I think.

“Hey, are you listening to us?”

Argh, so annoying, these people that keep pestering me and disrupting my train of thought. Whatever.

“Whatever, everything's done, I see that I won't ever obtain success here. Give me regards to the Grandmaster.”

As I exit the room, I hear one last time the baffled voice of the man who was supposed to have tested my magic-armor-construct.

“Wait, isn't he one of the most gifted students in the history of this university?”