Chapter 182: 182
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Drawing himself up, he said to the stout teen, "Don't speak with your eyes. Speak with your mouth while you still have teeth."
Garret spluttered and said, "You know what we were doing all weekend. Can't I be a little ticked off when we caught you having fun!?"
"You sleep, what, eight or nine hours a day on average and put in ten to twelve? I sleep four and put in eighteen. Do you see me b*tching about that? I'm glad you get your sleep out. I hope you still can after you've killed another living, thinking creature a few times," Orison said darkly.
While that sunk in, he threw two cloth backed insignia that held a small red circle of corral framed on one side by a crescent sliver of onyx and set in gold. He tossed one to Stag as well.
"Sew it on your uniform in plain sight or your favorite pair of underwear you never change for all I care. The black side is a pocket space and the red side holds a tiny piece of magic source. You can drop blood on the coral to make all the other insignia produce a slight vibration that will grow slightly stronger when they're facing your direction," the young mage said and answered questions on the finer details, like size and weight limits of the space.
With stars in his eyes, Garret said, "This is so cool! Who did you commission to do them?"
Everyone gave Garret a weird look.
Red faced, he added, "Don't act like it should be common knowledge, alright? Orison, did you do this yourself?"
Dully, the young mage nodded, feeling defeated for some reason.
Garret followed up by asking who he commissioned to make the jewelry, then again for finding the materials.
"Alright. That's why you were so busy... I didn't ask all that to be a smart aleck. I did it to show you that there are people for that. If you want to make a cake, do you do that from scratch or get a box of mix?" Garret said.
Slightly confused but possibly seeing his point, said, "From scratch. But if I were honest, it's not that different. Along the same vein of honesty, I think I do it that way because it's a point of pride and when you get materials at the basic or raw level, they can be used for a whole lot more things. Cheaper too."
Garret sighed. "That's neat and all but is it really cheaper? How valuable do you consider your time? Do you place that on the scale?"
Orison conceded. "I see your point but I have one for you. The more I outsource, the more 'known' what I have is. Don't devalue the element of surprise. It could have no value or an immense one. Also, the last I checked, registered magic storage items must be a box, bag, ring or necklace. Unregistered storage items can only be legally used by the creator or given as a gift and the person who possesses one is responsible for any damages caused from one breaking.
Immediately, as was the nature of people to do, their minds went to a plethora of things it would be nice to bring that wouldn't fit. Orison wasn't an exception. It dimmed the reveal some but the young mage was perfectly fine with his rule breaking stuff being undervalued some. Some perverse part of himself had learned to enjoy being undervalued. It had paid off too many times.
Garret suddenly grinned strangely. "Our team leader is a certified civilian alchemist, holds a master's degree in Planar Acquisitions AND is an enchanter. When you show them on Monday that you're a B-class mage, Core Administration is going to go ballistic!"
Orison shook his head. "I'm not an enchanter in any way that Avalon would recognize as legitimate. I'm not going to go into specifics but I doubt I could pull off more than one, maybe two of the standard set needed to pass the practical. I'm also only a C-class mage technically."
As Garret looked at him in shock, the young mage ground his teeth in frustration. Due to his concepts being condensed, Beta Prime's magic system registered as being without 'realness' which meant his understanding would break the model. In the other timeline, he'd lost his collection of books early in. That meant he hadn't had the handful of years such a thing should have afforded him to find out what the snag was in learning from the mad mage's collection.
He'd learned a couple of journeyman models but they didn't work and teasing out the knot of failure from them was tedious and dangerous work. Soon enough, he'd have a way to 'invalidate' test his comprehensions again which would give him clues. The only other option, different legacies, weren't something available yet.
The young mage sighed and said, "They won't look at how my 'little beginner spells' can outperform sloppy journeyman casts. They won't look at how they can rip through journeyman spell models like paper mache or overcome a step higher dispel magic. They'll just see that I can't cast a journeyman level complex model and label me C-class."
"So, you're really just a C-class?" Garret asked until he saw the vein pop out on Orison's forehead and amended, "On paper, I mean. Everyone saw you go toe to toe with Mr Lacquer."
The young mage said, "For a lot of reasons, no one will accept that as a real challenge and they'd be right. B-class, the traditional way, isn't out of reach but I have no real reason to reach for it. I'm not wasting a decade to learn disposable garbage. "Suffice it to say that if my back was up against the wall, as long as I wasn't taken by surprise, I COULD go toe to toe with a B-class and most likely win. I could drag a group of A-classes to hell with me, possibly. If I could take a single S-class by surprise I might even be able to suicide on it and hurt it enough that survivors could pick it apart, depending on the type of S-class."
Deflated, Garret said, "Oh... Damn. We were so close to qualifying to be a maverick team."
Orison smiled and said dramatically, "We have a member with a master's in acquisitions. If only we had a B-class ability holder, then we'd only have to answer to a fort captain. Such a shame our missions will have to be filtered through a platoon sergeant who can break up our team any time he feels like it... Garret, where do you think you rank?"
Without even giving it much thought, the teen said, "Broad spectrum C-class."
"Wrong. You're a B-class and with a little bit of polish, you should be able to squeak past the line and be categorized as a broad spectrum 'B', barely. That's just now. Stick around and wait just a bit longer. You won't be the only one either," the young mage said with a slightly mysterious air.
That announcement seemed to make everyone more excited than the badges did by a significant margin. Everyone but Stag, it seemed. Orison didn't think much of it. He had the impression that the green haired man could watch inescapable death approaching with little more than a mild interest in how long it would take.
"All of this would have been covered tomorrow with Roy present but there it is. I'm going back to work. Enjoy your evening," Orison popped off with mannerly sarcasm and walked back to the alchemy lab in the bunker.
Deep into the night, he worked on fine tuning and adjusting his work until he felt like he'd gotten it just right. The extra work added by Roy's late inclusion wasn't a big deal. He only needed to readjust sizes and change a few minor details. After looking over his last piece, he felt satisfied and went to get a little more trance time in that had been interrupted by Trisha earlier.
Stag woke up from the nap he had been taking in front of the TV when the young mage walked in. "I didn't want to interfere with your preparations but I hope you're ready to catch a few light naps between your to-do list tomorrow. There's something I think I can help you with but it's going to take a little time."
The young mage responded, "Alright, just let me check my messages real quick."
While he read the message that came at around two in the morning, Stag said, "It's kind of why I'm here. Everyone in the house got one. Yours has more detail, I'm sure, but it was to notify us about the delay in briefing time because of your B-class privilege defense test."
The young mage grew visibly upset at the contents that basically boiled down to Jacques stating that the test was still necessary. The man had enough basic decency to apologize but he needed to know whether or not Orison actually trained with him in an alternate future and the test was only a formality to prove it.
Seeing Orison go pale, Stag said, "I can guess the contents. You set things up with some kind of knowledge of the future... There was a little too much certainty and confidence in your actions which doesn't really match your normal pace.
"I can't claim to know you well but you're not carefree and you're not a naturally confident person. No offense but you're a plotter and a schemer. I respect that and I'm not going to start throwing stones in a glass house... That's not important at the moment anyway.
"I know the reason you can't cast journeyman spells. I can't tell you the reason because everyone who knows is under the same... inability. I can't even tell you the reasons why I COULD tell you that much."
Stag stopped talking and handed him a piece of paper. Motioning for Orison to 'keep his eyes on it', the green haired man set the paper on fire. For the instant that it was visible before it burnt up, browning lemon juice revealed that Stag knew what the consequences would be if the young mage couldn't show a certain magical trace in his spells.
It took a while to figure out a good way to do it. First try, a kinetic discharge knocked the young mage on his butt. Using a wall as a brace just made Orison feel like he was hit in the chest by a battering ram while Stag's head would rock back like someone socked him. Eventually, Orison sat at the edge of the slightly raised meditation platform while Stag sat on the floor.
As the young mage held Stag's head to his chest tightly to absorb recoil, the green haired man fired bullets of concentrated spirit essence through the swirling wall of devouring intent that coated the edges of Orison's space. Once cleared, the feeble remnants would dissipate, leaving a small cluster of spiritual blood. That, in turn, had to be lead by Orison to his spirit ring.
The first time, he watched it closely. Stag hadn't earned enough trust from him to simply allow such a thing to happen without a fail safe in place to stop anything shady from happening. It proved unfounded. What Stag told him would happen was pretty much what did.
His own spiritual bloodlines would convert most of it into their own, allowing the white hole to expel what wasn't usable. A single mote or two per shot would be attracted to a part of his 'potential'. Aside from one of his three little guys or gals 'to be' liking it, the remaining rejected motes would be shot back out. Those unwanted motes were absorbed and divested of any energy by the waiting inert essence woven into the background of Orison's space.
Engrossed in observation, the young mage had almost missed a short moment in the middle of the essence transfer where Stag shivered a little and a single slightly ticklish track of wetness trailed down where the green haired man's head was resting. Unsure if it hurt or something else was going on in Stag's mind, the young mage didn't want to make it worse by drawing attention to the fact he was aware it happened.
Just as Stag had said, Orison knew the exact moment when he 'had enough'. A hazy film he'd been unaware of, suddenly broke apart and cascaded down. It was like part of the world had been hidden away and he could now 'see' it. The air wasn't dead but actually had a thin, uniform layer of magic essence.
He understood. Everyone on the planet was born with that layer applied over them like a birth caul. It had to be weakened before it would break and there was probably more than one way to do it but the way Stag had demonstrated was taking in the most important and fundamental essence a supernatural being possessed, their spiritual blood.
Considering how many motes of 'spiritual blood' he'd taken in, Orison wondered how many had dissolved on that veil to be claimed by the world. For a moment, he was stunned by how great a sacrifice Stag had just made with little more to show than the ability to cast some higher level magic. If it hadn't been for the dire consequences of LeStrange finding out that Orison had lied to him about the training, it wouldn't have been worth it at all.
A half second of hesitation later, he said, "Alright. It's your turn."
Stag threw up his hands in a tired motion and said, "Assuming you had it to spare, it would still be a waste. I didn't come into this world the way you did. I need a great deal more. A GREAT DEAL more.
"Besides, there's only so much that's useful to me for the next 'step' of my journey. Anything I shed will only help that Firebrand brat out. I'm not that generous. If I could, I'd make him earn what the world wants from me, much less the piddling amount natives need to earn."
Surprised, Orison said, "Despite everything, he's still connected to you?"
Stag shook his head. "No, but he does have a spiritual claim on anything I leave behind. Would you believe that if I stayed in this world long enough, lived long enough, there would be a day he'd instinctively seek to hunt me down and kill me? I believe the chances are better than unlikely and only slightly worse than certain."
The young mage mulled on it and finally said, "I don't know exactly how long it would take for me to get there but I WILL be going there in the future. Very soon, a group is going to be headed out for another 'destination'. You could go with them and wait for me there."
"Would going there make me have to cross the 'Big Territory' line?" Stag asked.
The young mage nodded, causing Stag to add, "Then I don't want to go for the same reasons you probably don't want to. It's a lot harder to do what needs to get done over on that side."
Orison smirked and said, "Well then, it looks like you're stuck with me."
Stag gave a weary smile and said, "Have been since you pulled me from my miserable prison of a life."
Growing more solemn for a moment before returning to his normal 'sharing a secret joke with the world' expression, he added, "If... If I die, don't try to resurrect me or hold my soul from moving on in any way. Let it be... That said, I'd like a few more days of fun and adventure. So, don't go thinking I've gone suicidal or something."
Orison patted Stag's shoulder and collected the fruits of his night's labor from the alchemist workbench before guiding the tired Nunos descendant back to his room. A couple hours later, the rest of the house woke up. Hanging on the doorknob of their room was a magically modified uniform on a hanger.
Less than an hour after that, there was a knock at the young mage's door. When he opened it, the slightly concerned face of Garret greeted him.
"Can I help you?" Orison said in a slightly cranky voice.
The sturdy teen said, "There's people setting up equipment on the front lawn and we've been asked to not leave the house."
Checking The Weird and his touchscreen, Orison noticed that there was a set of instructions about how and where the test was going to be administered.
Walking out to the front porch, he said, "Is it really necessary to set ALL the equipment up when only one sensor device reading is what my mentor cares about?"
One of the three equipment specialists approaching him said, "You're not supposed to leave the house until we're done setting up."
He responded, "Unless someone who has decision making powers shows up to give me some courtesy, there will be no house because I'll take it and the property attached to it somewhere else and be SOMEONE else's asset."
A smirking Juniper dismissed the equipment specialists back to their work and said, "You expect us to believe you have that kind of power?"
He sighed. "How do they think I do the thing they're afraid I'll do when I'm threatened?... It doesn't matter. I'm doing the test. I'm just p*ssed at how high handed you guys are being about it. Sweeten the deal or I hold a grudge."
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Drawing himself up, he said to the stout teen, "Don't speak with your eyes. Speak with your mouth while you still have teeth."
Garret spluttered and said, "You know what we were doing all weekend. Can't I be a little ticked off when we caught you having fun!?"
"You sleep, what, eight or nine hours a day on average and put in ten to twelve? I sleep four and put in eighteen. Do you see me b*tching about that? I'm glad you get your sleep out. I hope you still can after you've killed another living, thinking creature a few times," Orison said darkly.
While that sunk in, he threw two cloth backed insignia that held a small red circle of corral framed on one side by a crescent sliver of onyx and set in gold. He tossed one to Stag as well.
"Sew it on your uniform in plain sight or your favorite pair of underwear you never change for all I care. The black side is a pocket space and the red side holds a tiny piece of magic source. You can drop blood on the coral to make all the other insignia produce a slight vibration that will grow slightly stronger when they're facing your direction," the young mage said and answered questions on the finer details, like size and weight limits of the space.
With stars in his eyes, Garret said, "This is so cool! Who did you commission to do them?"
Everyone gave Garret a weird look.
Red faced, he added, "Don't act like it should be common knowledge, alright? Orison, did you do this yourself?"
Dully, the young mage nodded, feeling defeated for some reason.
Garret followed up by asking who he commissioned to make the jewelry, then again for finding the materials.
"Alright. That's why you were so busy... I didn't ask all that to be a smart aleck. I did it to show you that there are people for that. If you want to make a cake, do you do that from scratch or get a box of mix?" Garret said.
Slightly confused but possibly seeing his point, said, "From scratch. But if I were honest, it's not that different. Along the same vein of honesty, I think I do it that way because it's a point of pride and when you get materials at the basic or raw level, they can be used for a whole lot more things. Cheaper too."
Garret sighed. "That's neat and all but is it really cheaper? How valuable do you consider your time? Do you place that on the scale?"
Orison conceded. "I see your point but I have one for you. The more I outsource, the more 'known' what I have is. Don't devalue the element of surprise. It could have no value or an immense one. Also, the last I checked, registered magic storage items must be a box, bag, ring or necklace. Unregistered storage items can only be legally used by the creator or given as a gift and the person who possesses one is responsible for any damages caused from one breaking.
Immediately, as was the nature of people to do, their minds went to a plethora of things it would be nice to bring that wouldn't fit. Orison wasn't an exception. It dimmed the reveal some but the young mage was perfectly fine with his rule breaking stuff being undervalued some. Some perverse part of himself had learned to enjoy being undervalued. It had paid off too many times.
Garret suddenly grinned strangely. "Our team leader is a certified civilian alchemist, holds a master's degree in Planar Acquisitions AND is an enchanter. When you show them on Monday that you're a B-class mage, Core Administration is going to go ballistic!"
Orison shook his head. "I'm not an enchanter in any way that Avalon would recognize as legitimate. I'm not going to go into specifics but I doubt I could pull off more than one, maybe two of the standard set needed to pass the practical. I'm also only a C-class mage technically."
As Garret looked at him in shock, the young mage ground his teeth in frustration. Due to his concepts being condensed, Beta Prime's magic system registered as being without 'realness' which meant his understanding would break the model. In the other timeline, he'd lost his collection of books early in. That meant he hadn't had the handful of years such a thing should have afforded him to find out what the snag was in learning from the mad mage's collection.
He'd learned a couple of journeyman models but they didn't work and teasing out the knot of failure from them was tedious and dangerous work. Soon enough, he'd have a way to 'invalidate' test his comprehensions again which would give him clues. The only other option, different legacies, weren't something available yet.
The young mage sighed and said, "They won't look at how my 'little beginner spells' can outperform sloppy journeyman casts. They won't look at how they can rip through journeyman spell models like paper mache or overcome a step higher dispel magic. They'll just see that I can't cast a journeyman level complex model and label me C-class."
"So, you're really just a C-class?" Garret asked until he saw the vein pop out on Orison's forehead and amended, "On paper, I mean. Everyone saw you go toe to toe with Mr Lacquer."
The young mage said, "For a lot of reasons, no one will accept that as a real challenge and they'd be right. B-class, the traditional way, isn't out of reach but I have no real reason to reach for it. I'm not wasting a decade to learn disposable garbage. "Suffice it to say that if my back was up against the wall, as long as I wasn't taken by surprise, I COULD go toe to toe with a B-class and most likely win. I could drag a group of A-classes to hell with me, possibly. If I could take a single S-class by surprise I might even be able to suicide on it and hurt it enough that survivors could pick it apart, depending on the type of S-class."
Deflated, Garret said, "Oh... Damn. We were so close to qualifying to be a maverick team."
Orison smiled and said dramatically, "We have a member with a master's in acquisitions. If only we had a B-class ability holder, then we'd only have to answer to a fort captain. Such a shame our missions will have to be filtered through a platoon sergeant who can break up our team any time he feels like it... Garret, where do you think you rank?"
Without even giving it much thought, the teen said, "Broad spectrum C-class."
"Wrong. You're a B-class and with a little bit of polish, you should be able to squeak past the line and be categorized as a broad spectrum 'B', barely. That's just now. Stick around and wait just a bit longer. You won't be the only one either," the young mage said with a slightly mysterious air.
That announcement seemed to make everyone more excited than the badges did by a significant margin. Everyone but Stag, it seemed. Orison didn't think much of it. He had the impression that the green haired man could watch inescapable death approaching with little more than a mild interest in how long it would take.
"All of this would have been covered tomorrow with Roy present but there it is. I'm going back to work. Enjoy your evening," Orison popped off with mannerly sarcasm and walked back to the alchemy lab in the bunker.
Deep into the night, he worked on fine tuning and adjusting his work until he felt like he'd gotten it just right. The extra work added by Roy's late inclusion wasn't a big deal. He only needed to readjust sizes and change a few minor details. After looking over his last piece, he felt satisfied and went to get a little more trance time in that had been interrupted by Trisha earlier.
Stag woke up from the nap he had been taking in front of the TV when the young mage walked in. "I didn't want to interfere with your preparations but I hope you're ready to catch a few light naps between your to-do list tomorrow. There's something I think I can help you with but it's going to take a little time."
The young mage responded, "Alright, just let me check my messages real quick."
While he read the message that came at around two in the morning, Stag said, "It's kind of why I'm here. Everyone in the house got one. Yours has more detail, I'm sure, but it was to notify us about the delay in briefing time because of your B-class privilege defense test."
The young mage grew visibly upset at the contents that basically boiled down to Jacques stating that the test was still necessary. The man had enough basic decency to apologize but he needed to know whether or not Orison actually trained with him in an alternate future and the test was only a formality to prove it.
Seeing Orison go pale, Stag said, "I can guess the contents. You set things up with some kind of knowledge of the future... There was a little too much certainty and confidence in your actions which doesn't really match your normal pace.
"I can't claim to know you well but you're not carefree and you're not a naturally confident person. No offense but you're a plotter and a schemer. I respect that and I'm not going to start throwing stones in a glass house... That's not important at the moment anyway.
"I know the reason you can't cast journeyman spells. I can't tell you the reason because everyone who knows is under the same... inability. I can't even tell you the reasons why I COULD tell you that much."
Stag stopped talking and handed him a piece of paper. Motioning for Orison to 'keep his eyes on it', the green haired man set the paper on fire. For the instant that it was visible before it burnt up, browning lemon juice revealed that Stag knew what the consequences would be if the young mage couldn't show a certain magical trace in his spells.
It took a while to figure out a good way to do it. First try, a kinetic discharge knocked the young mage on his butt. Using a wall as a brace just made Orison feel like he was hit in the chest by a battering ram while Stag's head would rock back like someone socked him. Eventually, Orison sat at the edge of the slightly raised meditation platform while Stag sat on the floor.
As the young mage held Stag's head to his chest tightly to absorb recoil, the green haired man fired bullets of concentrated spirit essence through the swirling wall of devouring intent that coated the edges of Orison's space. Once cleared, the feeble remnants would dissipate, leaving a small cluster of spiritual blood. That, in turn, had to be lead by Orison to his spirit ring.
The first time, he watched it closely. Stag hadn't earned enough trust from him to simply allow such a thing to happen without a fail safe in place to stop anything shady from happening. It proved unfounded. What Stag told him would happen was pretty much what did.
His own spiritual bloodlines would convert most of it into their own, allowing the white hole to expel what wasn't usable. A single mote or two per shot would be attracted to a part of his 'potential'. Aside from one of his three little guys or gals 'to be' liking it, the remaining rejected motes would be shot back out. Those unwanted motes were absorbed and divested of any energy by the waiting inert essence woven into the background of Orison's space.
Engrossed in observation, the young mage had almost missed a short moment in the middle of the essence transfer where Stag shivered a little and a single slightly ticklish track of wetness trailed down where the green haired man's head was resting. Unsure if it hurt or something else was going on in Stag's mind, the young mage didn't want to make it worse by drawing attention to the fact he was aware it happened.
Just as Stag had said, Orison knew the exact moment when he 'had enough'. A hazy film he'd been unaware of, suddenly broke apart and cascaded down. It was like part of the world had been hidden away and he could now 'see' it. The air wasn't dead but actually had a thin, uniform layer of magic essence.
He understood. Everyone on the planet was born with that layer applied over them like a birth caul. It had to be weakened before it would break and there was probably more than one way to do it but the way Stag had demonstrated was taking in the most important and fundamental essence a supernatural being possessed, their spiritual blood.
Considering how many motes of 'spiritual blood' he'd taken in, Orison wondered how many had dissolved on that veil to be claimed by the world. For a moment, he was stunned by how great a sacrifice Stag had just made with little more to show than the ability to cast some higher level magic. If it hadn't been for the dire consequences of LeStrange finding out that Orison had lied to him about the training, it wouldn't have been worth it at all.
A half second of hesitation later, he said, "Alright. It's your turn."
Stag threw up his hands in a tired motion and said, "Assuming you had it to spare, it would still be a waste. I didn't come into this world the way you did. I need a great deal more. A GREAT DEAL more.
"Besides, there's only so much that's useful to me for the next 'step' of my journey. Anything I shed will only help that Firebrand brat out. I'm not that generous. If I could, I'd make him earn what the world wants from me, much less the piddling amount natives need to earn."
Surprised, Orison said, "Despite everything, he's still connected to you?"
Stag shook his head. "No, but he does have a spiritual claim on anything I leave behind. Would you believe that if I stayed in this world long enough, lived long enough, there would be a day he'd instinctively seek to hunt me down and kill me? I believe the chances are better than unlikely and only slightly worse than certain."
The young mage mulled on it and finally said, "I don't know exactly how long it would take for me to get there but I WILL be going there in the future. Very soon, a group is going to be headed out for another 'destination'. You could go with them and wait for me there."
"Would going there make me have to cross the 'Big Territory' line?" Stag asked.
The young mage nodded, causing Stag to add, "Then I don't want to go for the same reasons you probably don't want to. It's a lot harder to do what needs to get done over on that side."
Orison smirked and said, "Well then, it looks like you're stuck with me."
Stag gave a weary smile and said, "Have been since you pulled me from my miserable prison of a life."
Growing more solemn for a moment before returning to his normal 'sharing a secret joke with the world' expression, he added, "If... If I die, don't try to resurrect me or hold my soul from moving on in any way. Let it be... That said, I'd like a few more days of fun and adventure. So, don't go thinking I've gone suicidal or something."
Orison patted Stag's shoulder and collected the fruits of his night's labor from the alchemist workbench before guiding the tired Nunos descendant back to his room. A couple hours later, the rest of the house woke up. Hanging on the doorknob of their room was a magically modified uniform on a hanger.
Less than an hour after that, there was a knock at the young mage's door. When he opened it, the slightly concerned face of Garret greeted him.
"Can I help you?" Orison said in a slightly cranky voice.
The sturdy teen said, "There's people setting up equipment on the front lawn and we've been asked to not leave the house."
Checking The Weird and his touchscreen, Orison noticed that there was a set of instructions about how and where the test was going to be administered.
Walking out to the front porch, he said, "Is it really necessary to set ALL the equipment up when only one sensor device reading is what my mentor cares about?"
One of the three equipment specialists approaching him said, "You're not supposed to leave the house until we're done setting up."
He responded, "Unless someone who has decision making powers shows up to give me some courtesy, there will be no house because I'll take it and the property attached to it somewhere else and be SOMEONE else's asset."
A smirking Juniper dismissed the equipment specialists back to their work and said, "You expect us to believe you have that kind of power?"
He sighed. "How do they think I do the thing they're afraid I'll do when I'm threatened?... It doesn't matter. I'm doing the test. I'm just p*ssed at how high handed you guys are being about it. Sweeten the deal or I hold a grudge."
Drawing himself up, he said to the stout teen, "Don't speak with your eyes. Speak with your mouth while you still have teeth." Garret spluttered and said, "You know what we were doing all weekend. Can't I be a little ticked off when we caught you having fun!?" "You sleep, what, eight or nine hours a day on average and put in ten to twelve? I sleep four and put in eighteen. Do you see me b*tching about that? I'm glad you get your sleep out. I hope you still can after you've killed another living, thinking creature a few times," Orison said darkly. While that sunk in, he threw two cloth backed insignia that held a small red circle of corral framed on one side by a crescent sliver of onyx and set in gold. He tossed one to Stag as well. "Sew it on your uniform in plain sight or your favorite pair of underwear you never change for all I care. The black side is a pocket space and the red side holds a tiny piece of magic source. You can drop blood on the coral to make all the other insignia produce a slight vibration that will grow slightly stronger when they're facing your direction," the young mage said and answered questions on the finer details, like size and weight limits of the space. With stars in his eyes, Garret said, "This is so cool! Who did you commission to do them?" Everyone gave Garret a weird look. Red faced, he added, "Don't act like it should be common knowledge, alright? Orison, did you do this yourself?" Dully, the young mage nodded, feeling defeated for some reason. Garret followed up by asking who he commissioned to make the jewelry, then again for finding the materials. "Alright. That's why you were so busy... I didn't ask all that to be a smart aleck. I did it to show you that there are people for that. If you want to make a cake, do you do that from scratch or get a box of mix?" Garret said. Slightly confused but possibly seeing his point, said, "From scratch. But if I were honest, it's not that different. Along the same vein of honesty, I think I do it that way because it's a point of pride and when you get materials at the basic or raw level, they can be used for a whole lot more things. Cheaper too." Garret sighed. "That's neat and all but is it really cheaper? How valuable do you consider your time? Do you place that on the scale?" Orison conceded. "I see your point but I have one for you. The more I outsource, the more 'known' what I have is. Don't devalue the element of surprise. It could have no value or an immense one. Also, the last I checked, registered magic storage items must be a box, bag, ring or necklace. Unregistered storage items can only be legally used by the creator or given as a gift and the person who possesses one is responsible for any damages caused from one breaking. Immediately, as was the nature of people to do, their minds went to a plethora of things it would be nice to bring that wouldn't fit. Orison wasn't an exception. It dimmed the reveal some but the young mage was perfectly fine with his rule breaking stuff being undervalued some. Some perverse part of himself had learned to enjoy being undervalued. It had paid off too many times. Garret suddenly grinned strangely. "Our team leader is a certified civilian alchemist, holds a master's degree in Planar Acquisitions AND is an enchanter. When you show them on Monday that you're a B-class mage, Core Administration is going to go ballistic!" Orison shook his head. "I'm not an enchanter in any way that Avalon would recognize as legitimate. I'm not going to go into specifics but I doubt I could pull off more than one, maybe two of the standard set needed to pass the practical. I'm also only a C-class mage technically." As Garret looked at him in shock, the young mage ground his teeth in frustration. Due to his concepts being condensed, Beta Prime's magic system registered as being without 'realness' which meant his understanding would break the model. In the other timeline, he'd lost his collection of books early in. That meant he hadn't had the handful of years such a thing should have afforded him to find out what the snag was in learning from the mad mage's collection. He'd learned a couple of journeyman models but they didn't work and teasing out the knot of failure from them was tedious and dangerous work. Soon enough, he'd have a way to 'invalidate' test his comprehensions again which would give him clues. The only other option, different legacies, weren't something available yet. The young mage sighed and said, "They won't look at how my 'little beginner spells' can outperform sloppy journeyman casts. They won't look at how they can rip through journeyman spell models like paper mache or overcome a step higher dispel magic. They'll just see that I can't cast a journeyman level complex model and label me C-class." "So, you're really just a C-class?" Garret asked until he saw the vein pop out on Orison's forehead and amended, "On paper, I mean. Everyone saw you go toe to toe with Mr Lacquer." The young mage said, "For a lot of reasons, no one will accept that as a real challenge and they'd be right. B-class, the traditional way, isn't out of reach but I have no real reason to reach for it. I'm not wasting a decade to learn disposable garbage. "Suffice it to say that if my back was up against the wall, as long as I wasn't taken by surprise, I COULD go toe to toe with a B-class and most likely win. I could drag a group of A-classes to hell with me, possibly. If I could take a single S-class by surprise I might even be able to suicide on it and hurt it enough that survivors could pick it apart, depending on the type of S-class." Deflated, Garret said, "Oh... Damn. We were so close to qualifying to be a maverick team." Orison smiled and said dramatically, "We have a member with a master's in acquisitions. If only we had a B-class ability holder, then we'd only have to answer to a fort captain. Such a shame our missions will have to be filtered through a platoon sergeant who can break up our team any time he feels like it... Garret, where do you think you rank?" Without even giving it much thought, the teen said, "Broad spectrum C-class." "Wrong. You're a B-class and with a little bit of polish, you should be able to squeak past the line and be categorized as a broad spectrum 'B', barely. That's just now. Stick around and wait just a bit longer. You won't be the only one either," the young mage said with a slightly mysterious air. That announcement seemed to make everyone more excited than the badges did by a significant margin. Everyone but Stag, it seemed. Orison didn't think much of it. He had the impression that the green haired man could watch inescapable death approaching with little more than a mild interest in how long it would take. "All of this would have been covered tomorrow with Roy present but there it is. I'm going back to work. Enjoy your evening," Orison popped off with mannerly sarcasm and walked back to the alchemy lab in the bunker. Deep into the night, he worked on fine tuning and adjusting his work until he felt like he'd gotten it just right. The extra work added by Roy's late inclusion wasn't a big deal. He only needed to readjust sizes and change a few minor details. After looking over his last piece, he felt satisfied and went to get a little more trance time in that had been interrupted by Trisha earlier. Stag woke up from the nap he had been taking in front of the TV when the young mage walked in. "I didn't want to interfere with your preparations but I hope you're ready to catch a few light naps between your to-do list tomorrow. There's something I think I can help you with but it's going to take a little time." The young mage responded, "Alright, just let me check my messages real quick." While he read the message that came at around two in the morning, Stag said, "It's kind of why I'm here. Everyone in the house got one. Yours has more detail, I'm sure, but it was to notify us about the delay in briefing time because of your B-class privilege defense test." The young mage grew visibly upset at the contents that basically boiled down to Jacques stating that the test was still necessary. The man had enough basic decency to apologize but he needed to know whether or not Orison actually trained with him in an alternate future and the test was only a formality to prove it. Seeing Orison go pale, Stag said, "I can guess the contents. You set things up with some kind of knowledge of the future... There was a little too much certainty and confidence in your actions which doesn't really match your normal pace. "I can't claim to know you well but you're not carefree and you're not a naturally confident person. No offense but you're a plotter and a schemer. I respect that and I'm not going to start throwing stones in a glass house... That's not important at the moment anyway. "I know the reason you can't cast journeyman spells. I can't tell you the reason because everyone who knows is under the same... inability. I can't even tell you the reasons why I COULD tell you that much." Stag stopped talking and handed him a piece of paper. Motioning for Orison to 'keep his eyes on it', the green haired man set the paper on fire. For the instant that it was visible before it burnt up, browning lemon juice revealed that Stag knew what the consequences would be if the young mage couldn't show a certain magical trace in his spells. It took a while to figure out a good way to do it. First try, a kinetic discharge knocked the young mage on his butt. Using a wall as a brace just made Orison feel like he was hit in the chest by a battering ram while Stag's head would rock back like someone socked him. Eventually, Orison sat at the edge of the slightly raised meditation platform while Stag sat on the floor. As the young mage held Stag's head to his chest tightly to absorb recoil, the green haired man fired bullets of concentrated spirit essence through the swirling wall of devouring intent that coated the edges of Orison's space. Once cleared, the feeble remnants would dissipate, leaving a small cluster of spiritual blood. That, in turn, had to be lead by Orison to his spirit ring. The first time, he watched it closely. Stag hadn't earned enough trust from him to simply allow such a thing to happen without a fail safe in place to stop anything shady from happening. It proved unfounded. What Stag told him would happen was pretty much what did. His own spiritual bloodlines would convert most of it into their own, allowing the white hole to expel what wasn't usable. A single mote or two per shot would be attracted to a part of his 'potential'. Aside from one of his three little guys or gals 'to be' liking it, the remaining rejected motes would be shot back out. Those unwanted motes were absorbed and divested of any energy by the waiting inert essence woven into the background of Orison's space. Engrossed in observation, the young mage had almost missed a short moment in the middle of the essence transfer where Stag shivered a little and a single slightly ticklish track of wetness trailed down where the green haired man's head was resting. Unsure if it hurt or something else was going on in Stag's mind, the young mage didn't want to make it worse by drawing attention to the fact he was aware it happened. Just as Stag had said, Orison knew the exact moment when he 'had enough'. A hazy film he'd been unaware of, suddenly broke apart and cascaded down. It was like part of the world had been hidden away and he could now 'see' it. The air wasn't dead but actually had a thin, uniform layer of magic essence. He understood. Everyone on the planet was born with that layer applied over them like a birth caul. It had to be weakened before it would break and there was probably more than one way to do it but the way Stag had demonstrated was taking in the most important and fundamental essence a supernatural being possessed, their spiritual blood. Considering how many motes of 'spiritual blood' he'd taken in, Orison wondered how many had dissolved on that veil to be claimed by the world. For a moment, he was stunned by how great a sacrifice Stag had just made with little more to show than the ability to cast some higher level magic. If it hadn't been for the dire consequences of LeStrange finding out that Orison had lied to him about the training, it wouldn't have been worth it at all. A half second of hesitation later, he said, "Alright. It's your turn." Stag threw up his hands in a tired motion and said, "Assuming you had it to spare, it would still be a waste. I didn't come into this world the way you did. I need a great deal more. A GREAT DEAL more. "Besides, there's only so much that's useful to me for the next 'step' of my journey. Anything I shed will only help that Firebrand brat out. I'm not that generous. If I could, I'd make him earn what the world wants from me, much less the piddling amount natives need to earn." Surprised, Orison said, "Despite everything, he's still connected to you?" Stag shook his head. "No, but he does have a spiritual claim on anything I leave behind. Would you believe that if I stayed in this world long enough, lived long enough, there would be a day he'd instinctively seek to hunt me down and kill me? I believe the chances are better than unlikely and only slightly worse than certain." The young mage mulled on it and finally said, "I don't know exactly how long it would take for me to get there but I WILL be going there in the future. Very soon, a group is going to be headed out for another 'destination'. You could go with them and wait for me there." "Would going there make me have to cross the 'Big Territory' line?" Stag asked. The young mage nodded, causing Stag to add, "Then I don't want to go for the same reasons you probably don't want to. It's a lot harder to do what needs to get done over on that side." Orison smirked and said, "Well then, it looks like you're stuck with me." Stag gave a weary smile and said, "Have been since you pulled me from my miserable prison of a life." Growing more solemn for a moment before returning to his normal 'sharing a secret joke with the world' expression, he added, "If... If I die, don't try to resurrect me or hold my soul from moving on in any way. Let it be... That said, I'd like a few more days of fun and adventure. So, don't go thinking I've gone suicidal or something." Orison patted Stag's shoulder and collected the fruits of his night's labor from the alchemist workbench before guiding the tired Nunos descendant back to his room. A couple hours later, the rest of the house woke up. Hanging on the doorknob of their room was a magically modified uniform on a hanger. Less than an hour after that, there was a knock at the young mage's door. When he opened it, the slightly concerned face of Garret greeted him. "Can I help you?" Orison said in a slightly cranky voice. The sturdy teen said, "There's people setting up equipment on the front lawn and we've been asked to not leave the house." Checking The Weird and his touchscreen, Orison noticed that there was a set of instructions about how and where the test was going to be administered. Walking out to the front porch, he said, "Is it really necessary to set ALL the equipment up when only one sensor device reading is what my mentor cares about?" One of the three equipment specialists approaching him said, "You're not supposed to leave the house until we're done setting up." He responded, "Unless someone who has decision making powers shows up to give me some courtesy, there will be no house because I'll take it and the property attached to it somewhere else and be SOMEONE else's asset." A smirking Juniper dismissed the equipment specialists back to their work and said, "You expect us to believe you have that kind of power?" He sighed. "How do they think I do the thing they're afraid I'll do when I'm threatened?... It doesn't matter. I'm doing the test. I'm just p*ssed at how high handed you guys are being about it. Sweeten the deal or I hold a grudge."
