“Is it possible to teach me runescript?” Dan didn’t take his gaze off of Daeson’s wobbly hand that loosely held the needle. “Either that, or we do whatever you need to do when you’re actually sober?”
“Pfah,” Daeson sloshed the amphora of wine while he laughed. “You think this is drunk? You should have seen the faculty luncheons. Servants as far as the eye can see and tables weighted down with delicacies. I would drink the finest of wines from sundown until noon the next day, all while those fools would pamper and compliment me. Even better than the other faculty were the graduate students.”
Daeson’s voice rose in pitch to mimic a woman’s timbre. “Professor Amberell, you simply must tell us more about your theories on the role of steam vent placement in dwarven architecture and its reflection in cultural norms! Perhaps we can come to your office for a more personal lesson.”
The elf stopped speaking to take another drink from one of his omnipresent amphoras of wine. When he glanced up at Dan, tears brightened the corner of his golden eyes. Dan couldn’t help but notice that Daeson still held the runic tattoo needle.
“I wrote a book on that, you know.” Daeson’s voice was quieter, subdued. “It was the talk of high society. The various houses were inviting me to speak at their gatherings. As much money as I could want, but more than that, I had prestige. People of power bent their ears to listen to me, and I had my choice of any number of pretty young things.” His voice took on a bitter note. “Then the Orakh came. Suddenly, trade deals with the dwarves didn’t matter as much, and all anyone could talk about was the war. Then, I suggested that we use humans on the front lines, and it all came tumbling down.”
Daeson paused to take another drink, only to find the wine vessel empty. He sat down next to where Dan remained frozen in a meditative pose and wrapped the arm that held the runescripting needle around Dan’s shoulders. The elf positively stank of wine. This clearly wasn’t his first bottle of the evening.
“You don’t know what it’s like, Daniel.” Daeson was almost whispering now. “To go from a respected academic, the top authority in a lucrative but suitably-obscure field to an absolute laughingstock. I lost everything. Friends stopped returning correspondences, students stopped signing up for my classes. Worst of all, I stopped getting appointed to prestigious committees. I went from chairing the tenure committee to non-academic misconduct.”
“At that point, you might as well bar me from any committee whatsoever.” The elf spat on the ground, the reddish saliva standing out against the dull gray of the gymnasium floor. “I went from deciding who had tenure to settling disputes between custodians and students. Just like the class system, it was all a calculated insult. Take my proposal of training humans to be elites and pervert it by forcing them to walk a path that capped their potential early. Just steal my idea and bastardize it.”
“Daeson,. are you all right?” Dan asked slowly. “It sounds to me like I want runescripting, but I don’t think you’re in a good spot emotionally right now. Do you need me to get you a glass of water and help you to your room?”
“No,” Daeson shook his head, fixing his dull eyes on Dan. “We have to do it now. The Academy forbids runescripting humans; they fear what you might become. We have to do it while I have the courage to act. That’s why I drank the wine. It’d be a waste of a 681 Balsanno if we don’t, and that would be a true crime. Even if my hands aren’t the most steady and the script comes out imperfect, that is a risk that we will have to take.”
“Is there any rule against teaching runescripting to humans?” Dan replied while gingerly removing the elf’s arm from his shoulders. “I would much rather spend some time learning how to do it, rather than risk being reduced to goop.”
Daeson stared at him blankly for a couple seconds before smiling. The wine had stained his teeth and lips completely red, giving his usually predatory smile a positively cannibalistic look.
“Good,” the elf hiccuped while talking. “That’s a capital idea, Daniel. When they passed the rules, the regulatory body figured that no one would bother to waste time on educating a human on runescripting. It would be like lecturing a donkey on the intricacies of a string quartet. That said, you have a knack for learning things you shouldn’t be able to learn.”
“Ha!” Dan was knocked forward by Daeson’s exuberant slap on his back. “This is even better. I can imagine their faces when I show up with a genuine runescripting and magic-using human. Then they’ll have to admit there is something to my theories, and I can finally end this farce of a research expedition on this awful planet.”
The elf stood on wobbly legs and staggered towards the exit of the gymnasium, stopping at the door. Briefly, Daeson leaned against the doorframe before turning to Dan.
“Daniel,” Daeson was slurring now, barely able to get the words out. “I need to rest briefly. I feel a bit indisposed at the moment. When I wake up, we will add runescripting to your lessons. Teaching a human runescripting, a positively inspired idea on my part!”
Daeson staggered from the room, and Dan exhaled. Standing up, he worked the stiffness out of his back and neck. Daeson insisted that he practice his affinities while in the lotus position. Something about it aligning his mana with the energy of the world. It all sounded like mumbo jumbo to him.
That was the problem in learning magical theory from someone like Daeson. The Empire had a twenty-thousand-year legacy in magical research, but at the same time, they hadn’t figured out steam power, internal combustion, or electricity. As far as he could tell, the scientific method wasn’t widely recognized in the Tellask Empire. Instead, their academics would see something, make up an explanation for it, then defend that explanation to the point of bloodshed. Over the millenia, they had managed to figure out a good number of things that worked, simply via trial and error, but Dan couldn’t help but doubt much of the information he had been given.
Still, with the help of the System, two months of Daeson’s teachings had revealed more about the nature of magic than he had figured out in a year on his own. He still wasn’t sure how he had survived as long as he had without realizing that his body had a phantom circulatory system that allowed the spheres of energy to pump mana through his body. Not only did it let his body store even more mana in the “veins” as the mana spheres served as the heart pushing the mana, but it made mana present throughout most of his body.
This meant two important things. First, he could more easily and quickly cast spells from extremities other than his hands. No longer did he suffer from a half-second delay as mana transferred from his spheres to wherever he was casting from. Second, when he ranked up, it would be much easier to simply draw the free mana in his body into the phantom channels. Apparently, the inability to visualize these channels and circulate mana was a large part of the reason why many unawakened worlds never discovered magic. Even if someone had mana injected into their system, without a guide to move that magic into the channels, it would ravage their bodies, poisoning and destroying them.
Dan shrugged as he walked over to a nearby towel and wiped off the sweat and wine staining his shirt. Despite how useful studying with Daeson was, the elf was getting worse. He was willing to brave a little longer to learn runescripting, but neither he nor Earth had the time for him to wait around forever studying at the feet of some reclusive master. Dan suspected that presenting him to this Academy would be a disaster for him.
Maybe Daeson would win some acclaim, but Dan doubted that the Tellask Empire would actually be thrilled to discover that humans could rival elves for dominance. In graduate school, he’d been involved in enough faculty meetings involving old men screaming at each other over who only partially-credited whom in an academic paper from ten years ago to know that infighting could get vicious. The odds that a rival of Daeson’s would simply have him killed were astronomical.
No, he needed to learn what he could from the elf before he had a complete emotional breakdown, then get out. The real problem was figuring out how to do that. Over the past two months, Dan had seen hints of the elf’s power, and he wasn’t thrilled by his prospects. Daeson was much more limited in his attunements, only using ice, force, and from time to time, light. That said, he was a master using force, and the amount of mana at his disposal was frankly ridiculous. Dan suspected that he was at least rank ten or eleven.
As Dan walked to his bedroom, ending practice for the day, he shook his head. Daeson wasn’t someone he could beat in a stand-up fight. Maybe he could flee the elf, but he suspected that it wouldn’t end well. He strongly suspected that Daeson could sense him through walls, and Dan didn’t really want to test the distance on whatever mana sense the insane archmage was using.
Dan laid down and looked at the ceiling. It was all a problem for tomorrow. Eventually, he would have to escape the insane elf, but for now he wasn’t in immediate danger, and he was still learning. Maybe he’d make his break for it the next time the elf tried to drunkenly enroll him in an experiment that would risk his life. Dan shuddered. Hopefully before that.
The next morning, Dan ate breakfast alone, ran the obstacle course, then settled down to wait at the gymnasium for Daeson to make his appearance. Finally, the elf worked off enough of his hangover to show up, eyes bloodshot and barely open. With a wave of his hand, Daeson dimmed the gymnasium lights and set a sketchbook down in front of Dan. Dan opened the book and flipped through a series of intricate, flowing drawings.
“Don’t let anyone know I let you look at that,” Daeson whispered, closing his eyes. “That’s the primer the Amberell runescripting masters taught me from. The first step is to memorize the form of the rune, and that is where this book comes into play. The second…”
Daeson hissed and stopped speaking for a moment before drinking from a glass of water. “As I was saying, the second is to memorize the order and boldness of the lines. If you draw a single stroke out of order or too dark it will imbalance the entire rune, and it could lead to instability. If you’re using enough mana, that instability could be explosive. As such, all runescripting practice will take place in the spell-testing bunker.” Daeson motioned toward the blackened area of the gymnasium with the mannequin.
“How will I be learning the order?” Dan asked, still paging through the book. “I can memorize each of the runes, but each one looks like it has something like sixty to three hundred strokes.”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Daeson muttered impatiently. “That said, you’re right. Even simple runes require one hundred pen strokes to finish. You will simply have to watch me craft the rune and try your best to copy my pen. It will be slow and arduous, but that is simply the way of things.”
“Now, where was I?” Daeson muttered to himself. “Right, ink. The third step is creating the ink used to draw the rune. It needs to be something mana conductive, preferably gold or mythril. Silver will do in a pinch, but I don’t want to hear about an apprentice of mine dirtying their pen with copper. Now, each rune requires you to mix certain proportions of monster essence with the powdered mana-conductive base. This usually means monster blood, but it can sometimes mean the extract of certain organs or ground up claws.
“Usually there is a symbolic connection between the monster used and the effect of the rune. A speed rune will often require a fast or agile monster, while a strength rune will call for brutish and powerful monster. Unfortunately, monster essence fades fairly quickly unless it’s stored properly, and the runes must usually be crafted within a day of the ink being created. As for the proportions, you will learn them the same way you learn the order of the strokes: by watching me craft the runes until you can make the ink yourself. Each master has their own formulas, and you must not share the ink formulas I teach with anyone. They are secrets of House Amberell, and if I were you, I would avoid drawing their ire upon your head.
“The final step is the easiest but the most dangerous,” Daeson continued while removing a small gold bar and two vials of blood. “The runescripter must invest mana of the correct affinity into the rune. Too little and the ink will clump, and the inscription will fall off after a day or two. Too much, and the ink will dry up, destroying the rune. Far too much, and the rune will simply blow up in your face. I would prefer if you don’t do that anywhere near me.
Daeson laid down a silver plate and pulled out his metallic pen. “Now, I will demonstrate with a simple rune for pain reduction as I need its effects dearly. The ink for this rune is simple: one part powdered gold, one part blood of the verdant bog snake, famous for its regeneration, and one part the ichor of an undead.” The elf’s hands blurred as he performed dozens of intricate actions while his voice droned on.
Eventually, a flash of purple light illuminated the silver plate, and Daeson let out a sigh before placing it on his forehead. Almost immediately, the tension left his shoulders and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Skill learned: Runecrafting
Rune learned: Pain Reduction
Dan smiled back at Daeson.
