2.02 – Fumble


    “Okay, everyone, settle down. My name is Tess, and I’ll be your instructor this morning.” Her words were loud and clear, cutting through the two pockets of chatting students. “Just to make sure everyone is in the right ce, this is an introductory session, where we’ll be doing a quick overview of the fundamentals of spellcasting before moving to self-guided practice, where I’ll walk around and help where I can. Good?” Tess surveyed the concrete pad with a slow gaze, making sure nobody had ended up in her lesson by ident. “Good. Now, line up, will you?” She waved her hand in a swishing motion, indicated for them to organize in a half circle.


    They did so.


    “That’s better,” Tess said. “Now, let me preface this by saying there’s only so much I can do. A general lesson is impossible. Everyone’s system is unique, and it’s on you to discover your spells'' quirks and most efficient uses. I’m here to help where I can, but there’s many of you, one of me. This is assisted self-learning, as I said. Not a one-on-one apprenticeship.”


    Cool grays eyes scanned over the assembled first years. Tess had a stern, though not unfriendly, demeanor. She stood with her hands behind her back, chin tilted slightly up, and wearing an impassive expression. She had ck hair done up in a tight bun, and brown skin—a darker shade, the sort of color found moremonly in Lircann than Valhaur. Her sses were thin-rimmed, round, andrge.


    Though she was an instructor in an informal way—a student volunteer—she had the air of someone who did this for a living. The red badge on her shoulder indicated ‘third year’. Obviously, the badge on her other shoulder bore the icon and color of a mage: blue, with a wizard’s hat. Engraved on the same badge, a bold, noticeable ‘II’. A mid-ranker … likely somewhere from level six to ten. As expected from a T third year.


    “But,” Tess said, “despite that each of our methods of spellcasting will have their own quirks, there <em>is </em>amonality in all processes. First, the focus state, and second, the drawing of mana. The third stage—spell activation—is where we diverge. For now, let’s focus on the first two.”


    Unfortunately, Natalie was a disaster at all stages, not just the portion of spellcasting specific to her ss. She knew the basics of magic, and nothing Tess had said hade as a surprise. Natalie had learned years ago that she was awful at the intense focus required to start drawing mana—and even worse at unstructured magic, the portion of spellcasting where skills and sses weren’t required.


    For that type of casting, it took Natalie immense effort and energy to even manage the simplest of spells. Fortunately, skill-based spells were much easier. She could get [Illusion] to trigger, but not fluidly, not as potently as she’d want, and not in chaotic environments where her attention was focused on more important things, like an opponent swinging a sword at her. Which meant it was fairly useless, as things stood. Seeing how spars wereing up in just an hour and a half, that wasn’t great.


    Tess talked the group through the first two stages. The usual advice was given: steady her thoughts, breathe evenly, focus on the enigmatic core of energy deep in her stomach. Then, form an image in her mind of extracting and molding the energy.


    Natalie did poorly, as usual.


    After a few rounds of that, Tess indicated for them to practice the full process themselves, stating that she’d go around and help in the finer details of thest stage.


    Time passed. Before Natalie knew it, she’d worked up a sweat. She managed to get [Illusion] to trigger a few times, though to typical mediocre results. She was halfway through stumbling through the process the fifth or sixth time when Tess arrived at her side.


    “You shouldn’t close your eyes,” shemented. “It doesn’t help as much as you think, and isn’t something you can get away with in a fight.”


    “Gee,” Natalie snapped, the spell fizzling at the break in her concentration. “Never would’ve guessed.”


    Tess raised her eyebrows, and Natalie—though incensed—immediately felt bad.


    “Sorry. This is just—“ she huffed, and threw her hands up. “Well. You know.”


    “Not your specialty, I’m taking it.” Tess didn’t seem upset at Natalie’s irritation. She mostly seemed amused, and a tad sympathetic. “Hybrid ss?”


    “Pdin,” Natalie answered.


    Tess hummed. “You’ll get the hang of it. You just have to bash it into your skull until it’s second nature. It’s a process we all go through.”


    A thought flicked through her head, one Natalie recognized as arrogance. She wasn’t <em>used </em>to having to wait for something to be second nature. Which wasn’t to say she was good at anything she tried to do, but the path she’d chosen—fighting—she’d never had to struggle with. She’d pushed to be the best she could, of course, but it hadn’t been a struggle for <em>adequacy. </em>Rather, excellence.


    Struggling to not be horrible was … kind of frustrating.


    “If you want to share the skill,” Tess said, “I might be able to offer some tips.”


    “Illusion,” Natalie said. No point in keeping such an obvious skill a secret. And, she desperately did need some tips. “Visual and auditory, but only small.”


    Tess considered this. She gestured for Natalie to try again. “Let’s see it.”