Note: Every other Saturday, I go visit some of my friends in Lowell to "game." We started a new role-playing game called Ars Magica in March and, to do that, I had to create a wizard-type character whom I named Joseph. This is the story of the man who trained him. Ideas and concepts critical to this work come from Ars Magica, the property of Atlas Games.
When William returned, he asked how I was and I said, quite convincingly, better.
“I don't know what it is, but I feel ready to learn.”
When we got into William's lab, he saw my hands – all cut and bruised.
“What in the world have you been doing all this time?”
I told him the truth – fearing his anger over being so foolish. He seemed annoyed at first, but just shrugged and smiled. “I guess without proper instruction, boys will be boys.” He laughed and messed up all my hair.
William made me try a spell we had been working on for an entire season, a defensive spell meant to keep a Magus safe, Wizard's Sidestep. I uttered the words I memorized months ago – then waved my hands around in a giant circle, just as I'd been taught – and felt a little weird. I felt different, as if some part of me were beginning to leave my body. My hands began to tingle, and then my entire body did. My pater's mouth seemed to drop – and suddenly he couldn't even contain his smile.
“My boy, you've done it!”
He picked up the iron mug he had on the table, laughing, and threw it directly at me. It missed! He was so close, aimed with such purpose and threw it so hard – I thought for sure it was going to hurt like hell – but it was off by a foot or more!
We practiced just using techniques and forms the next day – the basis of the Certamen duels I had seen at the last Flambeau tournament – and, still, it was working. I was completely reinvigorated, while William was just ecstatic. I don't know if I'd ever seen someone so excited before. We practiced and practiced and practiced – and then, it just stopped. One day I was using Rego Ignem to direct the flames in the fire – and the next, nothing.
It was back to frustration and grief, while my pater was starting to become furious – I was completely unable to do anything we had been practicing for days. It was just gone. He had me practice on my own, thinking I was doing it on purpose, reading from a book and trying to do things on my own. Again, I thought I'd be sent to my parents, and then I cut my finger on the book – a paper cut. My finger was bleeding, so I sucked it, but the blood just came back. I put the book down, not wanting to ruin it, but I had to keep studying until the sun came down – my master's orders. So I still kept practicing the spell. It was a basic Creo Ignem spell, meant to create a fire that would not burn – one that would allow me to study when the sun was down, without burning a candle. It still wouldn't work.
I got so frustrated that I was about to quit, almost wanting to go back to my parents – parents who may not have even remembered me – but decided to cast a different spell instead. Maybe Wizard's Sidestep would work for me again?
“Perdo Imaginem!” I yelled, waving my hands in the correct motion.
Suddenly, the shadow my hand made in the sun by the window did not match where my arm was. I tried to pick up the book, but the image of my hand could not grasp the book. After a few minutes of trying to pick it up, I suddenly had it – and it just as suddenly moved two feet in the other direction.
“Amazing!”
Knowing magic, I knew the book wasn't actually there – it was just made to look like it was there. I'd done that. It was all me – and that was a great feeling.
I went to go and tell my pater, but he wasn't quite so happy. I was supposed to make a non-burning fire. Why was I performing Wizard's Sidestep? I told him Creo Ignem spells just weren't working for me, not at all. He made me perform every single spell I knew, using every single form – but I couldn't even manipulate the basic technique and form of Creo and Ignem, together.
Suddenly, he began to frown.
Exasperated, he said to himself as much as he did to me:
“How can we have a Magus in House Flambeau completely unable to use Creo Ignem!”
As depressed and melancholy as I'd been over the past few days, weeks and even months, I wasn't nearly ready to give up hope now.
“But, master, I don't need to be in the School of the Founder – I could just learn from any of the other Flambeau schools.”
He seemed baffled at first, then annoyed, but again he was reduced to simple laughter.
“And here I thought I'd just be teaching everything I know!”
He decided this time again on another break, more for him than me, this time, he assured – while he rethought my training. I'd be different, he said, but just as strong or powerful as any other Magus. I decided to spend more time training with the grogs. At first I showed off, even besting a few of the younger grogs while using my Wizard's Sidestep, but I was warned not to completely rely on my magic should I take up the sword.
“It'll only get you so far,” Peter said, the grog who had trained me before. I took his words to heart.
My pater reconvened the start of what he called my “new training,” the day after my conversation with Peter. He said that I'd have to take a look at all the major (and even some of the minor) Schools of Magic within House Flambeau. He had sent letters to masters of three different schools, saying I'd already failed a fourth – the School of the Founder, the school of creating fire, Creo Ignem. After a month, we'd heard back from all the masters. A master of the School of Appromor, masters of Perdo magic, destroying that which is, would come visit my Pater in a month. A master of the School of Vilano, using the environment to bypass magical defense, would arrive in three fortnights. Finally, a master of the School of Ramius, sword-wielding magi, would come in two month's time.
“I invited the ladder,” William said, “because of your interest in the grogs.”
He was right – I was interested. What was more, I could not possibly believe that there was a magical school of combat based on using mundane weapons. Surely, it must be frowned on by some in the Order of Hermes – but, according to my master, it was very effective. Many of the mighty Flambeau miles were comprised of Ramius-styled Magi. The miles were the knights of our House and Order, fighting with honor and pride. They beat back the ungodly hordes in the Holy War, as well as a few turncoats in the Order of Hermes. I was definitely intrigued, but promised my master to keep an open mind.
The Magus focusing in the School of Appromor, a relatively young Spanish woman named Isabelle, taught me all the pros – and a few of the cons – surrounding her focus.
“It's more diverse than the Founder's School, for starters,” she began. “For one thing, if you ever bump into a fire-breathing dragon, you won't be stuck trying to attack it with more fire. It's a recipe for death – and I don't mean the dragon.”
“What are the other advantages?” I asked.
“Well, by focusing on Perdo, you can still have enough time to study other forms – instead of spending so much time on Ignem. It'll allow you to have much more time studying your interests – and not just being ready to strike at the enemy's of our Order, few as they've become.”
She had a point – but was that the only school that offered me my own time? And how much was I really interested in making magical devices all day?
“Well, what don't you like about your school?” It was my final question.
“Honestly, there's not much I don't like – but I am a biased source, of course. I did spend a few more years than I'd care to admit to work on my ability to break through magical defenses – but it was well worth it and every Magus should really do that anyway.”
She spent the fortnight at our covenant on the expense of my Master – he treated every guest as a privileged guest. I learned a lot from her, but I wasn't sure if that's what I really wanted to do for the rest of my life. Perdo – to destroy. It seemed so bleak. Plus, I was already completely unable to use two major techniques and forms together – what other holes were there in my magic? Did it make so much sense to focus on the magic in magical defense? Finally, the physicality of swinging a sword just appealed to me. It was exhilarating.
I have to admit, it was tough sitting through Sir Elric's lessons, from the School of Vilano. He was a very nice fellow – but I thought him rather stuffy at the time. Of course, I've become great friends with him in the intervening years, but he was very formal to an eleven year old. I didn't know what dry wit was back then! Maybe it was because he was from House Bonisagus?
“Point of fact,” he said, “the School of Vilano – though most Flambeau would hate to admit it – is the most popular School of Magical Combat in all of the Order. It's not even close.”
“Weird.”
“Another fact: It was designed in such a way that it both completely bypasses magical defenses, whilst also leaving a Magus with plenty of time to study whatever his or her interests may be. Vilano seeks to work with the Magus, not force him to conform to any particular school of thought.”
I couldn't deny it appealed to me – yet this Master of a Magical School of Combat did not look to have seen much magical combat.
“How come there aren't Vilano miles?” I asked.
He laughed – for perhaps the only time I've seen him do so in his entire life.
“While there are many who follow the Vilano ways, they also tend to be people who have their own interests – they just seek to be ready should the need to defend themselves arise. None of that is to say that there aren't warriors in the Holy Land and elsewhere who practice Vilano ways, at least to some extent – including amongst the mighty miles.”
To some extent... That seemed to be the crux of the matter. It seemed useful, but not practical for someone like me, who more and more felt as though I was destined to be a Flambeau knight. Amongst those who did not focus on combat, someone who studied and employed Vilano would have some shot, but was that person nearly the equal of a full-time combat Magus? I admit, with the benefit of having been on this Earth for forty more years, I may have thought differently now: they can be quite powerful, though the powerful tend to have put as much time in their School as I've put in mine. Vilano makes for a potent means for bypassing magical defense and being ready for whatever comes – but nothing quite beats the School of Ramius. My thoughts were confirmed then, as I maintain them now: Vilano isn't bad at bypassing magical defense, but someone is much more likely to dodge or stop the timbering tree than slash of my blade.
