Fork This Life!

Chapter 39: A Light Unseen, The Fork Is Keen

The others react to the elven girl’s presence with surprise, but Lamar seems particularly shocked. He seems to take a half step back almost instinctively, and when I turn myself to look at him, his dark face is paling considerably.

When I turn back, I recall something I’d read in one of the books in the first section of the library, and realise why. The elven girl’s hair is blue, indicating that she is a high elf: elven royalty. As an elf, dying one’s hair blue is equivalent to impersonating royalty, and in some cases could be punishable by death, so there is little to no possibility that that is the case here.

“Y-your highness!” Lamar stammers. “If, if us being here dis-displeases you, th-then we can leave!”

She sighs, then speaks with a somewhat resigned, but formal tone. “No, you may remain here until you wish to depart.”

“Ah, thank you, your highness.” Lamar replies, bowing.

He then immediately drags Iueia and spark along with him as far away from her on the mountain peak as he could manage, with me floating along behind him.

“Woah, woah!” Iueai exclaims. “What’s wrong, why were you speaking all funny?”

“She’s royalty!” Lamar replies, shock still evident in his voice. “You say the wrong thing around them, you can get in a lot of trouble.”

“Really? Why?” Iueia asks.

Lamar shrugs awkwardly. “I don’t really know, that’s just what my dad told me.”

“Her being royalty means that she’s related to a king or queen.” I explain. “Kings and Queens are the rulers of kingdoms, which means they have vast amounts of military, economic and political power. Their relatives often command some portion of that power, as well, so angering one can literally ruin your life.”

“Hey, hey, are we okay here, then?” Spark asks agitatedly.

“Should be.” I say, not completely sure. “She said we could stay. But it might be best if we don’t stay too long, either way.”

Because of what had happened, it has turned into a rather tense situation rather than a relaxing outing. It isn’t exactly like we are alone, either. The mountain is actually surrounded by a couple dozen people, both flying and on the ground. They had just all been so far apart that I hadn’t realised they might be related, earlier.

They’re keeping a careful eye on us, and even at that distance I don’t doubt they have a method to attack from where they are. Makes sense for royalty to have an escort, I guess, but it doesn’t exactly help me relax.

She herself isn’t paying much attention to us. Instead, she just looks out at the scenery and gazes at the clouds, silently.

The others eat quickly and without much conversation, we head back to the academy.

I had never thought there might be political figures at the academy, but now that I think about it, it makes sense. Wehttam is apparently one of the best, or possibly the best magic academy. It’s probably a symbol of status for nobles to have their kids accepted here.

Suppose I’ll have to watch out for that. Getting caught up in politics is the last thing I want to happen.

My last class is advanced mana control. Interestingly, Mr Thurston is again teaching the class.

It picks up pretty much where the previous class had left off, activating dummy magic formations, to get used to the timing and control techniques needed to activate actual magic.

To be frank, this was pretty much the only part I found useful last term. The movement and manipulation of mana, I have down. Meditation? Too easy.

Hopefully, this term should be a bit better.

“Changing the brightness of your magic is a matter of how much mana you use, quite simple. But if we add just a little bit extra to the formation…” Mrs Zita writes another few words on the formation before infusing it with mana, producing a bluish light. “We can change the colour!”

“Is it possible to have a single light spell that has variable colour? For instance, changing the light from blue to red, without casting a separate spell?” I ask.

“Of course!” Mrs Zita beams. “Plenty of illusionists use spells that have multiple colours that the caster can change at will.”

Interesting.

“Fire, as you cast it normally, can be very dangerous.” The draconian teacher explains. “Which is why temperature control is one of the first things I teach. The first thing you have to understand is that magical fire isn’t like normal fire. Normal fire, if it somehow gets cold, will go out, but magical fire will burn no matter what its temperature is.”

“Your assignment for next week will be to create a spell that forms rock in a specific shape: a cube with a square hole through the middle. If you have difficulty with this, there are relevant texts in the library.”

I float just above the ground in one of the training rooms in the duelling grounds. These places were designed for students to test spells in, and so are quite sturdy - and private. Once inside, you can push a button which causes stone to grow from the walls and close the entrance, or open it again.

There seems to be some sort of soundproofing, too, so nothing in here gets outside, or vice versa.

They’re generally quite full during the day, particularly as it starts to get towards the end of term, but during the night there’s usually some free spots. Not a great deal of students from nocturnal races, after all.

Scuffing out a word with a small cloth I brought with me, I replace it with another using a small piece of chalk. Chalk is an abysmal mana conductor, but it works just fine for quick tests.

Carefully, I guide my mana through the formation, moving it in the specific manners required by each part of the spell. I’d done a similar process almost half a dozen times, each followed by minor edits to the formation as it didn’t do quite what I needed.

Hopefully, this time it’ll work.

A white light shines from the formation - a good first sign. At the very least, my last fix hadn’t broken what was working before.

I tweak the flow of mana, and the light turns a light blue - very good.

The drain on my mana isn’t too significant, so I take it a bit slow. The light changes through the colour spectrum, shifting gradually from blue, to green, to yellow… And then vanishing from my vision entirely.

I double check everything. The mana flow is fine, the lines of the formation are solid and unbroken, and I can even see mana radiating faintly above the formation.

It’s hard to tell for sure, especially when I have no equipment, but… I think it worked.

Well, that opens up some interesting possibilities, doesn’t it?

But that’s for another day. Right now, I simply don’t have the means.

“Your grasp of Terran has improved substantially.” Jald nods ever so slightly. “Good job.”

I think I see the barest hint of a smile on his face… Or maybe it’s just my imagination.

You know, I always thought it would be interesting to learn a second language, but I never actually put in the effort to learn one. I know a smattering of words and phrases from various languages from books and movies, but even in school I was never particularly invested in language classes.

Never expected that the language I eventually ended up learning would be the language of the earth itself. Not that I’ve mastered it, mind you. I’m still only a bit over midway through advanced in the spoken skill, with written a bit further ahead, and I often fumble a word or phrase every few sentences.

Think I’ll aim to get the skills to expert before I stop actively learning Terran. Maybe pick another language to learn.

It’s maybe halfway through term now, and if there’s one thing I’ve realised, it’s that four subjects is too little. I have plenty of time to do the work for all my classes, learn a language, read miscellaneous texts and still have free time on the side. Next term, I think I’ll do six subjects, instead.

‘...The most common method used to formulate more complex spells is with subformations. These would consist of extra formations that in most cases partially overlaps the primary formations, altering the effects of the spell or casting an entirely separate spell. The benefits of casting a separate spell in this manner are that the order, timing and sometimes positioning of the sub-spells can be controlled with a much greater degree of accuracy than when cast separately. However, the likelihood of clashes and complications increases exponentially with the quantity of these component formations, along with the complexity of casting the spell. The highest number of formations in a single spell (including the primary formation) on record is eleven - and even the master who formulated it had some difficulty casting it...’

There’s always something interesting to learn about magic theory. My guess is that this’ll only really be a thing in the more advanced classes - it sounds difficult to put into practice.

Alas, my reading must be cut short. There is a teacher coming through the library, and his intent is most malicious, the worst nightmare of library dwellers like myself.

It’s time for the athletics carnival.

Athletics carnivals are a pain in the tines, but you know what’s more annoying than an athletics carnival? An athletics carnival with compulsory attendance. You know what’s even more annoying than that? An athletics carnival with compulsory attendance and participation.

Well, at least they don’t make you participate in events that you physically can’t do, and you only have to do one thing in a given category, so I don’t have to do many events. Not exactly like I can lift weights, throw things or run.

I’ll still have to do the flying race, though.

I wait in the line for my year group - they group us in years rather than terms for this - bored out of my tiny metal brain. Nothing to do, nothing to see, just slowly drifting forwards as the line progresses.

Can’t even review one of the books I’ve read for fear that I’ll drift forward while I’m distracted and bump into the person in front of me, pointy end first. Not that I’m particularly pointy.

Speaking of the person in front of me, he’s an abnormally tall and lanky boy with hair that almost looks golden. Oddly enough, his hair is sticking to his head with sweat, as if he’d just finished running a marathon.

After what feels like a small eternity, the person in front of me is at the front of the line… And the teacher marking us off and recording the activities picks now, of all times, to try and start a conversation.

“Hey, you’re the kid of the speed demons, right?” The teacher asks the person in front of me.

“That’s right.” The boy smiles. “Name’s Auden.”

“Ah, I thought so. Don’t see many people with your build - or that hair.” The teacher nods. “Alright, I’ll sign you up for all of the races…” The teacher’s pencil...

Wait, there are pencils here? I just assumed for some reason that there wouldn’t be. I need to get one. I need to get ten. Pencils are the superior writing implement, no matter how much my teachers in primary school tried to convince me otherwise. Probably don’t have erasers, which is a bit of a bummer, but bread works just fine, too.

“...No, I would really rather not participate in every single foot race event. Just put me down for the hundred meter.” The lanky boy is saying.

“Well, if you’re sure…” The teacher says dubiously, marking down his selection and finally, finally getting to me.

One tedious conversation spent persuading the teacher that I’m incapable of doing the majority of the activities later, I’m able to just get out onto the field. The whole thing is held on the open grasslands to the east of the academy. There are a few pools here that weren’t here yesterday - that’s magic for you - although the larger water-based events are hosted in the sea, a bit further east.

Sounds dangerous, but when you realise that half the participants are mostly some combination of sea-dwelling races and water wizards, it suddenly doesn’t seem too bad.

Magic is allowed in all the events, of course, be stupid if it wasn’t. But only magic that affects yourself: buffs, minor manipulation of the surroundings, movement magic, that sort of thing. Even things like magic tools and potions can be used, so long as the student can prove that they were the one to create it.

Already having located Iueia, Lamar and Spark when I was in the line, I head towards them.

“I’m fast for a fairy,” Spark says with some agitation, “but there’s a harpy in our year. How do I race against a harpy? It’s stupid!”

“Think there’s a cheetah beastwoman in our year as well.” Lamar scratches his head. “They’re fast, too.”

“They might have an advantage now, but in later years it’ll be magical skill that will determine who wins.” I interject.

“Gerald!” Iueia exclaims. “You’re here!”

“Yep, I’m here.” I reply, drifting down to lie on the grass. “Not fond of this sort of event, but it’ll be interesting to see what the more senior students are capable of.”

“Yeah, that’ll be so cool!” Iueia says, eyes sparkling. “I bet they can all fly, and go really, really fast.”

“Maybe they can.” I agree.

There are all the usual events, and then some. Weightlifting, archery - they even have an area frozen over for ice-related events.

Because of the size of our year, they have to break it into multiple groups for some of the events. Others, such as flying or swimming, don’t have as many participants, so it’s not a problem there.

I watch a few of my year’s foot race events, and as I guessed, very few people are capable of using magic to assist them in the run.

There are a few races in particular I take note of. The one that elven princess is in, for one. Didn’t do particularly well, but not too badly, either. After she reaches the end, there are a bunch of guys and a few girls of a range of ages waiting there to shower her with praise. She calmly and politely thanks them and makes some light conversation, but maybe because of my unique standpoint and perspective, I get the impression that she’s… I don’t know, distant? Lonely? It feels like that she’s only making the conversation because it’s polite, that she doesn’t actually enjoy their attention.

Or heck, maybe that’s just just royal training to allow her to appear impartial. What do I know?

There’s another race that has that guy that was in front of me in line, Auden, in it. A few teachers gather round, seemingly expecting a spectacle, but when the signal sounds, instead of running the guy starts walking down the track, instantly outstripped by every other person in the race. A few of the teachers sigh, walking away in disappointment. After his slow walk to the end of the track, he leaves the track with his head held high despite the disappointed and scornful looks from his fellow students and teachers alike, wiping the sweat off his brow as he goes.

I almost miss Joe’s race, mainly because it’s difficult for me to see him. He takes the race even less seriously than Auden, and nonchalantly strolls down the track at his own pace.

In fact, such a thing doesn’t appear to be too uncommon. Another race has a person walking down the track, shielding his eyes from the sun and blinking furiously - wait, that’s Raymond. I’m amazed someone actually managed to pull him out of the library.

Wait, isn’t he in one of the senior years? What’s he doing in this race? Oh. He’s not actually part of the race, he just accidentally wandered onto the track, blinded by the sun.

One of the teachers quickly dashes onto the track and guides him away from the race. Raymond genuinely looks to be in pain from the light, so I fly over. “Hey Raymond. If it’s a bit bright, couldn’t you make a spell that reduces the intensity of light coming towards your eyes?” I assume he knows light magic.

“Now there’s an idea.” He replies in a conversational tone, belying how his face is scrunched up. He closes his eyes completely for a few seconds, thinking. A small formation forms on his hand shortly after, and a dark rectangle forms in front of his face. “There. Now I just need to adjust it…”

The rectangle darkens until it’s almost completely black.

He sighs with relief. “Much better. I think they need to turn the lights in the library up a bit, going outside is almost blinding.”

“The lights are pretty bright in most areas.” I reply in concern. “You should get out in the sun some more. Your eyesight seems like it could be deteriorating.”

“Eh, there’s spells for that.” Waving it off, he asks, “So, are you going to participate seriously?”

“Is there a particular reason I should?” I respond dubiously.

“Not really, just asking.” Raymond shrugs. “It’s supposed to ‘rile up the competitive spirit’ or something like that. Doesn’t matter to me. There’s special rewards if you manage to beat the records, but some of them have stood for centuries or even longer. As if that’s going to happen.”

“Yeah, sounds pretty pointless to me. Well, see you around.” I say.

“Seeya.” He waves.

I wobble a little in the turbulence as the avian and flying people in my year take to the skies. They beat their wings and straighten their bodies to eke out every last bit of speed possible.

On the other hand, I, the odd fork out, slowly putter along at my own little pace. I don’t particularly care what people might say. For all they know, this is my top speed. I’ve only really gone any faster in front of Dreyer and Lamar, after all. Even then, that was far from my top speed. Heck, I don’t even know my top speed.

Regardless, I’ll be happy to get back to normal school life once this is over.

This is the race I’ve been waiting for. Past third year, competing is optional. There aren’t many students above that year in the first place, so they start to merge years together for the events.

This one is the years six and up mixed one kilometer race, meaning that participants can race via land, sea, air, or some combination of the three. It’s held along the coastline, on the beach.

Despite how many years the race is open to - I hear there are even a few students that have been studying here over a decade - there are only four competitors.

A merman, idly treading water - or is it flipping water? - as he waits for the race to start. What looks like a mole beastwoman, squinting around with her tiny eyes, and a pale elf hopping slightly from one foot to the other. The last contestant is, I think, a turtle or tortoise beastkin.

Beastkin are the descendants of beastmen and other races, and tend to have a more human appearance while still retaining some of their animalistic features.

For instance, this man has an unusually long neck, largish eyes and a thin shell, but mostly humanoid stature, colouration, and even hair.

...He also appears to be wearing bulky roller blades, a rather weighty-looking backpack of some description and holding what looks vaguely like a remote control with a few buttons on it.

Before long, the race starts, and the competitors shoot off like speeding bullets. The merman and the mole woman dip underwater and underground respectively, instantly shielding them from sight from practically everyone but me.

Of the two above ground, the elf instantly takes the lead, dashing forwards in what would look like a normal sprint if not for the speed of it. Despite his speed, or rather because of it, something seems off to me. It takes me a moment to pick it - his footsteps aren’t kicking up any sand, or even leaving a mark on them.

The turtle beastkin, although left behind, gradually accelerates as the wheels of his skates spin up, evidently powered by some form of magic or enchantment. They don’t sink into the sand either, but they do leave behind paths of hardened ground, reinforcing the ground beneath him as he goes so as to improve grip.

Below the earth, the mole woman is digging speedily through the earth at a pace that, while fast, would not be enough to compare to the others… If not for the fact that the earth that she is digging through is moving around her, pushing and carrying her forward at a rate of knots.

In the sea, the merman is using a similar tactic, creating a fast water current that speeds his pace. He is just barely behind the elf, and at the moment it seems to mostly be between him and the elf contending for first place, although the others aren’t far behind.

Back on land, the elf lifts his leg and steps down on empty air. But instead of falling, he steps off of the air, and again, and again, until he’s literally running on air. A closer look reveals that there’s actually some sort of platform that appears under his feet every time he steps, giving him something to push off of.

In fact, these platforms aren’t parallel to the ground, but at a bit of an angle, allowing him to put more force into every step and increasing his speed as a result.

Seeing this, the turtle beastkin sighs and pushes one of the buttons on his remote. Immediately, a piece of metal snakes up his neck to the back of his skull, and hatches open up on the back of his backpack and skates. Despite there being little more indication than a slight blue glow of mana, a moment later his speed increases prodigiously, even allowing to start catching up to the elf running above him. ‘Is the race even worth this much?’ I see him mutter to himself.

Worth… Oh, of course. There’s a betting pool. Why wouldn’t there be?

The merman, apparently able to see the elf’s actions from underwater, also reacts and magically parts the water in front of him, creating a void. With the water to the sides being held back, the only water able to fill the void is the water from his direction, which rushes in with greater speed, taking him with it. He does this repeatedly, looking vaguely uncomfortable as he does so.

Even the mole beastwoman appears to have realised something is afoot, because she reaches into her pocket with one hand and flings half a dozen small rocks into the ground around her, imbuing each with a fair amount of mana as she does so.

The earth and rock around each stone gathers and forms into rough approximations of humanoid figures. They turn to her almost in unison, the pocket of earth still carrying them all along.

“Make us faster.” She instructs quickly.

The rocky figures kneel and plant their arms into the earth. The ground around her increases to over double its former speed, faster than any of the others.

...However, she reacted too slow. By the time she is about to catch up, the race is already over.

“Jonathan wins, 16.386 seconds!”

The turtle beastkin won, by just a fraction of a second.

Speeding past the finish line, he pushes a button on his remote, and the boosters deactivate and retract into their housings. After pushing another button, the wheels of his roller blades stop receiving power and slowly roll to a stop. He lets out a heavy sigh, but out of the four of them it seems like he used the least mana, almost none at all. Must have had some type of mana storage that he used to power it all.

Regardless, I’m pretty satisfied with what I saw today. Elemental manipulation, summoning, some sort of creation magic, maybe barriers? And enchanted equipment.

That’s definitely something I’ll be interested in learning all about...

Gerald's Status