The Chronicles of Krarshe: The Hearts of Men, Volume 1

“There are two main components of spellcasting,” Owyn said, pacing back and forth in front of the class, just as he did during his morning rant. “First is your mana pool. Mana is the key component that makes magic exist at all.” He stopped, turning toward the class, and raised his hand in front of his chest, curling his fingers slightly as though he was holding a ball. “All creatures contain some amount of mana, and this amount is what we refer to as a ‘mana pool’, or ‘mana reserves’. The quantity of mana any creature has at birth is dependent on species.” His hand returned to its original position, clasping his other hand behind his back, as he returned to his pacing. “Humans like us have, what we have designated, an average mana pool, though it varies by individual more than other races. Other races, such as kitsune or elves,” he said, looking directly at Krarshe, “have above average mana pools. Others, such as dwarves and orcs, have lower than average pools. Though, they leverage other methods to compensate, such as runeforging.” He stopped and turned to face the class once again, his sharp facial features stern and serious. “Do not underestimate them just because they, by this school’s opinion, use inferior magic techniques.” He returned to pacing.

“Professor, a question,” one of the students spoke up.

Professor Owyn turned to him and pointed. “Yes, you may ask.”

“What races have the largest and smallest mana pools?”

Owyn smirked, almost as if he was proud to answer this specific question. Krarshe saw, across the room, Bri sigh and rest her cheek against her hand, exasperated. It must be a common question, Krarshe thought.

“Many of the animal-folk tend to have smaller mana pools. Kitsune are an anomaly, being closer to fae than animal-folk. But species like ratfolk are often found to have the smallest. The largest...” He turned and faced the large black stone wall in the front of the room. “The largest is more of a monster than a race.” He turned to face the room. “Any guesses?”

The room was quiet. After a moment, a hand raised. Owyn pointed at them before they spoke.

“Some form of demon?”

Owyn shook his head. “Extraplanar beings are rare, and so their mana pools are unknown, but good try. Any other guesses?”

There was a long pause as the class mulled over the question. “A dragon?” came another answer from someone Krarshe couldn’t see at the opposite side of the room.

Owyn clapped and pointed at the student. “Yes. Precisely. A dragon. Magical researchers have, at great cost and experimentation on dragonborn, managed to measure, or more accurately estimate, the mana pools of dragons. While the exact size is unknown, suffice it to say that it overshadows any other known race’s by such a margin that it would be impossible to ever reach a mana pool of that size. And THAT is only at birth.”

“What’s a dragonborn?” asked one student.

Owyn looked at the student, almost glaring at him. “Dragonborn are abominations, tainted creatures born from both dragon and common-race parents.” He started walking closer to the students, menacingly. “They may bear the appearance of their common-race parent, but they are monsters, just like a dragon. Their physical and magical power are immense. For this reason, they cannot be trusted, and such children are-” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “They are... dealt with.”

The class was completely silent, petrified by his theatrics.

He turned back and resumed his pacing. “Ahem. As I was saying... Where did I leave off? ... Ah, yes. Those astute students undoubtedly noticed the particular choice of words I made. ‘At birth’. Mana pools, in fact, are not rigid. Much like a warrior can become stronger through physical exertion, so too can mages expand their mana reserves and become more powerful. The act of exhausting your mana pool will strengthen it, cause it to grow. And that-” he said, turning to the class again, “is why we will practice and drill spells until you can barely stand. While impossible to reach the level of a dragon, it’s perfectly possible to reach that of the elves in one’s lifetime.”

The class murmured slightly. Krarshe still wasn’t particularly interested in the minutiae, he just wanted to get to the actual spellcasting portion. He looked at Tibault, who was practically at the edge of his seat. He turned to see Bri, still looking dreadfully bored. It wasn’t surprising, as this was her fourth time through the same rehearsed lecture.

“Now,” Owen said, louder than before, instantly silencing the class. “The second important part of magic is the spellcast itself. The incantation you recite and the hand gestures you make, these will be what dictates the spell you cast. Magic itself works by releasing mana, which is then manipulated by whichever spell you cast. While one can cast spells that have no spellcast, these are often not very useful. These ‘arcane spells’, as they’re called, have few, very niche, uses, and we will not focus on them in this class. If you wish to study them, you may do so in the senior classes.” He stopped for a moment to clear his throat, stroking his long, receding black hair to make sure it was in perfect form. “The first spell, that we will practice reciting here, will be one without any somatic components, or hand gestures. It will be a spell to generate wind. When we have practiced sufficiently, we will go out to the outdoor training facility to do it with mana release and measure the size of each student’s mana pool.”

The class erupted into whispering again, only to be immediately silenced by Owyn coughing and clearing his throat.

“Now, the verbal component is very specific. It can be found in your spellbook as ‘wind burst’ if you need to review it later.” He pulled out a small white stone and began striking and dragging it against the black stone wall at the front of the room, leaving behind white streaks with an ear-piercing screech. Krarshe had to cover his ears as Owyn drew out a long series of strange characters. When he finished, he put the white stone into a pocket in his coat and smacked the stone wall. “This is the spell, written out in its original language. I know it seems strange, but you will learn this language in time. Now, it reads:

Se Esfiru hinoras, suesoo-"

Krarshe’s ears perked up. “Is that draconic?” he interjected.

Owyn stopped, and looked straight at Krarshe. Krarshe furrowed his brow. Had he said something weird? He looked around nervously, before his nervousness sank deeper into his heart. The entire class had turned to look at him, shock and astonishment on their faces. Tibault and Bri as well, eyes wide with surprise.

“Where did you hear this?” Owyn’s voice said, low, chilling. His face told him he was less than amused by Krarshe’s outburst.

Krarshe was cornered. He wasn’t sure what to say. I guess this isn’t common knowledge here... Well, I used the excuse before, might as well again. “Umm... My... My father. He... He used to be a travelling merchant. He heard it from a prominent mage who travelled with him for a while.”

The class started whispering to each other at this explanation. Krarshe swallowed hard. Using this fictitious merchant father was becoming a common excuse. He might need to fabricate a full story for this fictional character if he didn’t want to have inconsistencies in his tales.

After a very long moment of silence, scowling the whole time, Owyn spoke up. “Well, that is correct. Spells are cast in draconic,” Owyn said. The murmuring of the students became a rumble of voices. Owyn cleared his throat a few times, but the chatter of the class wouldn’t cease. He slammed his hand against the black stone wall with a thunderous clap. The chatter ceased at once. Owyn glared at the class before his eyes settled back on Krarshe.

“Is everything okay in here?” another heavy-set man, seemingly another teacher, whispered from the doorway.

Owyn just nodded silently, dismissing his fellow teacher. Owyn turned back to Krarshe again, his eyes felt as though they would pierce the young elf. “I do not know who this mage was, nor where he was from. BUT! In Remonnet, as I’m sure in many other countries that still follow Imperial doctrine, knowledge of spellcast origins is to be kept a secret from the masses.” He looked across the classroom, scowling. “To continue with my answer to your BURNING question,” he remarked, sarcastically, looking at Krarshe, “spells are indeed in draconic. For reasons unknown, draconic carries mana significantly better than any other language yet found. Spells in other languages do not carry the same potency. As such, we have resigned ourselves to using draconic, and have developed a written form to allow us to put it on paper.” He breathed deeply before looking at the class again. “This WILL not be spoken of outside the academy. Do you understand?” As he finished looking over the class, he came to settle once more on Krarshe, lingering there.

Owyn turned back to the front of the room. Tibault leaned over to Krarshe. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“It was just a question...” Krarshe replied. “I didn’t realize it was secret.”

“I mean, I didn’t either...” Tibault admitted. “But, I’d probably just stay quiet the rest of class.”

Krarshe nodded silently.

“Ehem. With that disruption out of the way, repeat after me:

Se Esfiru hinoras, suesoo shu zeraus dzam mea’anom. Sem te mem tsanchaasha hihiinjon, shu grunda meaa tsandum saran, dun suesoo tsinchan."

The class repeated it, or attempted to. Several of them appeared to stumble over the words and sounds, many of which Krarshe had never heard in the common tongue.

Owyn kept the class repeating the spell over and over for what felt like forever. Krarshe had grasped it immediately. While the sounds weren’t present in the common tongue, they were in other languages he’d encountered while travelling. The spellcast came naturally to him. When everyone seemed to have grasped it, Owyn said, “Okay, that will do. Please follow me out to the practice area.”

Owyn grabbed a book, quill, and inkwell from his desk in the corner of the room and headed toward the door. The class all stood up and followed the teacher out into the hallway and through a large stone door. Krarshe looked at the heavy door as he passed it. It must have been over a foot thick and had several scorch marks and chips taken out of it. He worried about the training to come.

The training area was surprisingly disorderly, with various pieces of equipment lining the walls, shielded from the center of the room by segments of walls. The segments were left separated from the far wall, Krarshe assumed to grant quick access to the storage area from the central section. The equipment being stored was all familiar. There were staves and wands, similar to those in the store the school ran, but they looked heavily used. A few of them were broken. There were also several pieces of metal armor scattered around on wooden stands, some of which had dents and scorch marks. In the center of the room sat a strange mechanism. It was a large wooden frame with a wooden arm attached vertically, anchored to the base of the frame. The end of the arm had a wide, flat piece of wood mounted to it. There was a long piece of wood with notches drawn on it that stretched back from where the arm sat, parallel with the ground. Krarshe guessed this was some sort of measuring device.

Owyn explained to the students how to release mana, and at what point in the spellcast to do so. Krarshe, not being a complete novice with magic, knew this already, so he was more interested in continuing to look around the room. From the inside, it felt a lot smaller than it seemed from outside. Maybe it was all the clutter and sectioning of the space.

“So, you will take aim at the measuring device with ‘wind burst’. While the area of the spell is fairly large, do try not to miss or you won’t be measured properly. Also, to ensure we get an accurate measurement of your full capacity, be sure to release as much mana as you can. Don’t worry, you will be okay. Even if you pass out, we have an infirmary on campus.”

A few of the students groaned, nervously.

“Miss Bulliere, would you like to demonstrate?” Owyn asked in a grandiose manner, smirking slightly. Krarshe heard some disdain in his voice.

Bri stepped forward, seemingly unfazed by the teacher’s disparaging tone, as though she was accustomed to it. The whole scene bothered Krarshe, especially given the events during lunch break. Regardless, Bri took position a dozen paces in front of the device. She stood firm, extending her right hand, palm forward, toward the target. She began reciting the spell, generating a small breeze in the direction of the target. As she finished it, a gust of wind pushed the target on the device, the arm tilting back a dozen or so notches, nearly half way down the measuring beam.

“Hmm. Not bad,” Owyn said flatly, writing down something in the book he carried with him. He smiled the same disgusting smirk he had just previously.

As he reset the target to its starting position, Owyn called another student, this time Armand. Armand repeated the same process as Bri had. The target moved slightly, maybe four or five notches.

“Oh, very good. Especially for a beginner,” Owyn said, emphasizing the word ‘beginner’, writing another note in the book.

Armand smiled proudly. A few of the other boys cheered for him.

This continued for a while, the late afternoon sun creeping its way toward its resting place. Some of the students moved it slightly. Some not at all. Some couldn’t say the spell correctly, no matter how many times Owyn tried to correct them. Those who got no results were always met with a sharp, critical remark from Owyn. Tibault managed to move it slightly, almost one notch. He walked to the back of the group to a distant wall, looking a bit dejected. He joined up next to Bri and sighed heavily.

“I didn’t manage to move it at all my first time,” she said, patting him on the back. “Armand is just abnormal.”

Tibault just nodded quietly.

“Our esteemed Krarshe,” Owyn called out, sarcastically. This was more sarcastic than Krarshe had ever been himself, quite a feat.

Krarshe stepped forward.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Owyn said. caustically.

Did I do something to earn this venom he’s aiming at me? It was just a simple question, so calm down Professor Eyebrow, Krarshe thought as he walked over into position before the large wooden contraption. Let’s see if I can leave him speechless.

Krarshe stood, his right shoulder turned forward. He extended his right hand, palm out, aimed at the target. ”Se Esfiru hinoras, suesoo shu zeraus dzam mea’anom-" Krarshe began to feel a breeze coming from behind him, ”Sem te mem tsanchaasha hihiinjon-" The breeze intensified, more than even Bri had generated at the spell’s conclusion. Krarshe noticed the crackling of electricity as small sparks began arcing down his forearm towards his hand and from his palm.

“Wait... Stop! Hold!” Owyn began to say, panicked.

He heard a few students behind him begin to mutter something, along with some gasps of confusion. He could barely hear any of them. The wind was roaring in his ears now.

Maybe I shouldn’t release ALL of my mana? Yeah, let’s hold back a bit.

"Shu grunda meaa tsandum saran, dun suesoo tsinchan!"

As Krarshe finished the spell, a massive torrent of wind blew past him, accompanied by a scattering of lightning. The blast of wind sent the device smashing into the far wall, sending a spider web of cracks radiating out from the impact. The stray bolts of lightning crashed randomly before him, blasting away portions of the stone walls and floor in front and to the sides. Krarshe could feel a comparatively smaller gust of wind from the two side storage areas, along with the sound of metal crashing and wood splitting, and the cries of surprise from his classmates behind him over the deafening wind and lightning.

After the wind died down and the dust settled, Krarshe looked at the target range. It was a mess. He looked to the storage areas, where several pieces of equipment had found their way out into the main space. He saw Professor Owyn on the ground, his coat pulled half over his head, struggling to pull it back down. Krarshe turned to look at his classmates. Everyone, except Bri, Tibault, and a few others who had chosen to wait by the back wall, were on the ground, their uniforms disheveled. Those at the back wall stood, their arms covering their faces. Krarshe saw Bri and Tibault lower their arms, their hair was all over the place. Bri tried to comb the tangle of hair out from in front of her face. Both she and Tibault stood there in shock, stunned by what they had just witnessed.

Owyn scrambled to his feet, wrestling to get his coat off of his head with a series of popping and ripping sounds. He looked at the state of the training area in horror, and then looked at Krarshe. Krarshe noted how his eyebrows were the neatest they may have ever been, having been pulled in the same direction when Owyn had pulled his robe from his face. Aside from that, the ever reddening of the teacher’s face told Krarshe he was probably furious.

“So... Uhh... How’d I do?”