The Distant Trail of Ciara Badvia - 1-4-6 To Master Raknag's Lab

The Saria Magic Academy
Part 4: Magical Talents 

TO MASTER RAKNAG’S LAB

That afternoon, Tyril arrived in front of Master Raknag’s laboratory.

Her heart was pounding wildly. Her raised fist, which was about to knock, was left hanging in the air. She took many, many deep breaths until finally, for the umpteenth time, she summoned the courage to knock. 

But just as she did, the door swung open. Inside, a stern-looking, middle-aged man had opened it himself. 

“How long are you planning on standing there? Come in already.”

That took the wind out of her sails. Embarrassed by the door opening so suddenly and the fact that he’d known she was there for a while, Tyril choked on her words.

Her head shut down and she obediently stepped into the room as directed, moving like a puppet. Unlike Master Forster’s cluttered lab, the books and documents in this room were neatly organized, with cupboards standing alongside the bookshelves. The place was about the same size as her mentor’s, yet it somehow felt twice as big. 

“Have a seat.”

Surprisingly, Master Raknag prepared a chair and even poured a cup of fragrant tea for her. It wasn’t piping hot, either; the tea was warm enough to drink comfortably.

He’s still so considerate of me… In the face of his thoughtfulness, Tyril’s frozen emotions thawed a bit. 

“I’ve heard from Master Forster. I understand to some extent that you have special circumstances.”

After preparing his own cup of tea and taking a seat himself, he started the conversation. His stern expression remained, in contrast to his words. Still, Tyril couldn’t help the sigh of relief coming from her. 

Did he soften his attitude now that he understands my situation?

“That said, I don’t intend to give you special treatment.”

Or not… 

“No matter your reasons, giving good grades in a practical course to someone with low magic proficiency is unacceptable. That’s only natural, isn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“One’s inadequacy affects others as well, such as during the incident the other day. Tell me, did you come all the way to this academy just to make excuses for your failings?”

“I… No, I didn’t.” 

Tyril couldn’t refute his sound reasoning. Though the irrational fear she held toward the professor had dissipated, his brutal logic was now stifling her. 

Master Raknag let out a small sigh—he noticed Tyril hyperventilating again—got up, and brought a wooden bowl. It was plain and about the size of Tyril’s palm. “Try it. Fill it with water first.”

“A-all right!”

With a clatter, Tyril shot up from her chair as she took the bowl. She turned around in a panic to set the chair back, but it in fact merely slid back a bit without any harm done. 

Tyril placed the vessel on the desk and took several deep breaths. This isn’t like ice, she reminded herself. Water wasn’t so difficult for her. Filling the small bowl should be something she could manage without much trouble.

“Mr. Spirit, please fill this bowl with water,” she whispered. Eventually, a small spring of water welled up from her cupped palm, and any that overflowed spilled into the bowl.

Tyril sighed in relief, then gently clasped her drenched hands over the vessel together and nervously looked up at Raknag’s face.

“Next is ice. Try to summon the biggest you can.”

“Yes…”

Her tone became gloomier. She tried the same task as yesterday’s practical class, and the result was the same. She just barely managed to summon a piece of ice no larger than the tip of her pinkie. Any more than that seemed beyond her. 

“Hmm… So you can handle the basic elements to a certain extent.”

“Yes. But when it becomes complex, I’m no good…”

Master Raknag hummed and rested his chin on his hand. He wore a familiar contemplative expression—the same kind she had seen on her mentor earlier. It appeared they were both hesitant to reach a conclusion.

I wonder what they’re thinking… Something they don’t want me to know about, perhaps? Like… a reason that will make becoming a mage impossible?

“Allow me to clarify a few things, first. What do you think about when you use magic? Why do you need to say ‘Mr. Spirit’?”

Tyril made a small, embarrassed sound at the question. A childish habit, that’s what it is. Well had laughed at her for it.

“It’s… It’s because of a book I read as a child. In it, magic is the doing of invisible fairies called ‘spirits’. Magic is their response to the hearts of the users. So, one should express gratitude to the spirits while casting their spells.”

“Udinea’s ‘Forest of Spirits’. I’m surprised you read that as a child. It’s not something readily available.”

“Oh, you know about it?”

Tyril’s back straightened up like it’d been launched by a spring. A laugh or a scolding—that’s what she expected. Not once had she met someone who knew the book.

“Are you mocking me? Udinea is a significant figure in Wende’s history of nature magic. Her ideas weren’t welcome in the country, ultimately leading to her exile, but her texts are key for those studying Solzarand’s history of magical science.”

“I see… I just like it as a story, so I had no idea about the author’s background.”

“Where did you come across this story?”

“Um, my father’s bookshelf. He used to collect storybooks and let me read them freely.”

“You have a good father.”

“Yeah!” she replied loudly. Hearing him praise her father had Tyril extremely happy, making her feel a ticklish sensation on her side.

“Udinea’s perspective on magic was incompatible with the Animian doctrine in Wende at the time, but it’s very useful when applied to modern spirit theory. If you have an understanding of spirits, you might be able to rapidly advance your skills, even if you lack a solid foundation.”

“R-really?” 

“I’ll ask again.” Professor Raknag looked sharply at Tyril’s face. “What do you think about when using magic?”

Though she still felt tense, there was no trace of fear in her anymore. The professor initially appeared intimidating to her, but the more she got to know him, the more she saw the warm and considerate layer of his personality.

Slowly, Tyril searched deep for an answer.

“I consciously focus on conveying my thoughts, as if I’m making a request to the spirits to grant my wishes—to manifest the ice in the palm of my hand. The wishes in my heart… It’s my hope that the spirits receive them.”

“Mhm, as I thought. You cannot grasp the fundamentals due to your lack of knowledge, but you’ve managed to head in the right direction regardless.”

Professor Raknag stood up, went behind Tyril, and held her head to keep it steady. As perplexed as she was, she stopped resisting and then shifted her gaze to her palms. Sensing that he wanted her to make another attempt, she slowly formed a cup with her palms.

“You’ve good instincts. However, when you convey your thoughts, it shouldn’t come from your heart. Visualize it. Try to use the images in your mind.”

“In my mind…?”

“Yes. And don’t just convey it. Command the spirits to listen.” 

“But, um…”

“Just do as you’re told.”

He spoke firmly, then left her to mull over it. Never before had Tyril entrusted the spirits with her heart in such a forceful mindset. But if her professor advised it, it was worth trying.

Keeping her calm, she directed all of her focus on her head.

“Spirits. Please, do as I say. Bring forth ice to my palm.” 

Her chanting habits were mostly unchanged, but Tyril made an effort to be more assertive. She slowly opened her eyes and discovered a significantly larger ice, roughly the size of a big strawberry, resting on her palm. 

“I… I did it. It worked!”

“That’s a leap from before. Just this alone makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“Yes!”

Ecstatic, Tyril dislodged herself from Professor Raknag’s grip, spun around, and beamed at her professor. His stern face seemed a bit flustered, like he didn’t quite know how to react, but it lasted only for a fleeting moment.

“You’re taking Logic courses, correct? The basis of the modern logic of magic is that spirits are not living beings—they are minuscule particles, invisible to the eye. These particles react to the intent emitted in some form from a person’s mind, producing the phenomenon we call magic. This theory is highly regarded in today’s magical studies in Solzarand, for many who understood it significantly improved their magical abilities. You’ve experienced it yourself, haven’t you?”

“Yes! I’m amazed at how quickly I improved!”

Tyril smiled widely in delight at Professor Raknag, and she started to summon ice on her hands over and over again. Usually, conjured ice melted significantly faster than ordinary ice when one stopped focusing, dissipating into vapor, yet the collection of ice spheres coming from her palms was mounting fast. If the professor hadn’t patted her shoulder and told her to stop, she might have filled the table with ice spheres.

“For the time being, come here after your Wind Day practical. It seems getting credits will be a challenge for you if you don’t dedicate yourself to individual studies.”

“Understood. Thank you so much!”

“Remember to let Master Forster know about this. He’s your mentor, after all.”

“Of course!” 

Tyril’s joy was palpable, her smile still so radiant. Though Master Raknag’s gaze and tone were as sharp as ever, over the course of their conversation, it became oddly pleasant to Tyril. She’d begun to like him.

And because of that, she pretended to not notice the puzzled expression on his face.

*****

Tyril left the laboratory after exchanging a few more words. 

Forster’s lab was just downstairs. Tyril initially debated on whether she had to report her progress to him, but she felt a strong desire to and so sped through the hallway and down the stairs. 

At the same time, she was also playing with the wind using her fingers on her right hand; it seemed she had a finer control of it than usual. A rush of excitement bloomed in her chest, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling again.

Upon reporting to her mentor, he simply nodded slightly, seemingly uninterested.

Dyne, on the other hand, was overjoyed. He patted her shoulder, clasped both her hands, and exclaimed loudly, “You did it! You’re amazing!” 

Tyril was also unusually loud when she said “Thank you!” and very nearly knocked over a stack of books in their celebration.

I need to go back to our room and tell Misty, too! In her jubilation, she burst out of the laboratory and barely stopped herself from breaking into a sprint back.

———————————————

MTL/N: Dyne was happy. Still sus, though.

So ends Part 4. See you next week!

For more from the author, visit:

Narou: https://mypage.syosetu.com/1258514/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/inui_takafumi

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Last revisions: 01/09/23

Glossary:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_D4XF1ID8j7zti3pG-fqtcd0h0T9aZHK_CXsCrr5gwY/edit?usp=sharing

Revisions:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jS9QeSLaJfl6P_-Gl-zAY0dnKPep3or9fUl-HPukc9g/edit?usp=sharing