Arcanist In Another World-Chapter 82: Duality

Valens considered for a long moment an answer to Master Archibald’s question, and came to the simple conclusion that becoming a member of the Magi Guild, a high-ranked member to be precise, seemed too good of a deal to pass on just because there might be certain complications if he were to admit he had a rather different approach to magic.

He’d always been the odd one in this place. Seen as a heretic Healer by the Templars, a freak of nature by the Duality Guild and their Master, an abnormality who was not just a Healer, but also a Mage and a Hexmender both in a world that seemed obsessed with titles and distinctions of different fields.

And through all of that, he came to learn one thing.

A crucial thing, really.

Something that wasn’t the case in the Empire.

People in this world appreciated talent. Sure, there were some who got suspicious and others who were stuck in their old ways, but the majority of people Valens came across had shown him respect the moment they saw what he was capable of.

Nobody cared for a damn if he was a heretic or not when there were dozens of men lying in their own blood over the dirt. Nobody uttered a word when he handled a monstrosity that threatened a whole town with its venom and healed every single one of those miners. Nobody, not even the Bishop, argued otherwise when he showed him that he wasn’t someone to be taken as a simple Healer.

No, for all the flaws and twisted things this world housed in its long reaches, there were glimmers of hope and novelty that Valens had never expected before, and this Magi Guild was one of them.

He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to become one of them. Back in the Empire, back in the Academy of Resonant Healing, they were the outcasts. Bright minds of the nation who got shunned because of their talents. Taken for granted. Seen as the gears of a machine that no one cared for.

But what would become of that machine when the gears that braved the rusty torture of a paranoid mind too scared to polish them gave in and stopped working? What would become of that giant Empire when the very foundation of it crumbled into pieces?

That was a question that hadn’t left anyone’s lips for the longest time. People got accustomed to their painful silence. They remained ever-mute against this centuries-old practice even when they knew it was wrong.

Well, the Magi of this world were different. They had learned their lessons, hadn’t they? Thus, they prepared an organization of such magnitude that made the kingdoms acknowledge their potential, if Master Archibald’s words were to be believed.

Looking at the old man, Valens couldn’t come up with a sensible explanation as to why this Magus might try to trick him into joining his guild. He demanded nothing. Not a pay or an oath of allegiance, not his absolute loyalty nor a single piece of crucial information. He just asked him about his talents so that he could handle his application in an appropriate manner.

Valens had no reason to disclose every piece of his being to this man, but he didn’t need to paint himself as a lesser Mage either.

“I’m not sure how you measure one’s mastery over their spells,” he started, Master Archibald perking up in expectation. “But I suppose I can be considered a Master of Healing Magic in your standards. I also have a wind-based Blockage spell, and the earth-based Gravitating Earth, both of which I’m a Master. I’ve just recently become an Adept of Inferno and Fireball. That’s the gist of the spells that I’m comfortable with sharing.”

Valens felt relieved the moment he finished the last sentence. Leaning back into his chair, he breathed in deeply. The cushions around him had stopped biting into his skin mid-sentence.

Mind of a man. It’s not always so deep, is it?

Simply getting these things out of his chest was enough to calm his thoughts. That was a thing to appreciate, as without Apathy he was finding himself feeling more vulnerable with circumstances he hadn’t felt much about in the past.

Meanwhile, Master Archibald hadn’t blinked a single time as he kept eye contact. His eyes widened slowly, got bloodied and teary in such a short time that Valens considered whether he should snap a finger into his face to help out the man.

“This…” the old man muttered, grasping the arms of the chair tightly as he leaned in. “You…” he mumbled, blinking round at him. “Surely there has to be a mistake,” he said in a low voice.

He then brought his hand up. “I’m sorry if my reaction upset you, young Valens. It’s not that I’m doubting your sincerity, but if what you’ve said is true, then you’re a Master of not one, but two different fields while being an Adept at two others.”

“That’s about the truth, yes,” Valens nodded, and added. “To your standards, that is.”

“Our standards…” Master Archibald nodded absently. “You mean the standards that the biggest academies in Haven’s Reach have spent years debating before agreeing?”

“Oh? I didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t know,” Master Archibald muttered. “Where were you from again? You’ve said—“

“You wouldn’t know,” Valens said. “We keep our distance from the outside world.”

“A hidden community. One that has access to a special class that can command four different kinds of mana.”

“Five, I suppose, if we add the Void mana,” Valens said. “Though I’m just a novice in that field, I’m afraid.”

“Novice? Yes,” Master Archibald laughed nervously. “Just a simple novice in your fifth field. That’s only normal, isn’t it? Can’t have all of them…”

“With time—“

“You’re just a Pretrial Mage!” Master Archibald sprang to his feet, jabbing with a trembling finger into Valens’s face. “A Level 100 Healer! What is happening here? Who are you? What sort of madness have you involved yourself with? What sort of a class is that?”

Valens flinched back when the old man glared at him with incredulity. His eyes blared, the thick vein across his neck bulging, heart thundering loudly in his chest. His lungs squashed painfully hard against each other.

Calm yourself, Master! At this rate, you’re going to explode!

“I don’t believe it,” Master Archibald continued. “Such a talented young man with a fierce mind full of ambition. A bright genius who can command magic with such ease! Think of what you could’ve accomplished! Think of the lengths you could’ve gone with that endless potential in your chest! Yet you… You’ve been a fool, Valens!”

“What?” Valens blinked.

“Alas!” Master Archibald turned, and started marching around the room, fingers clasped tightly before him. He shook his head grimly, face heavy as if he was mourning for a soul lost only recently to the fate’s currents. “There’s a reason why we drill the importance of Classes into talented kids’ minds from a very young age. A good reason why we make them understand the price of walking an unknown path!”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Is this about my class?” Valens scowled at him.

“Why, of course it is!” Master Archibald said. “Not every ripe fruit offers the sweetness you expect, and not every sparkling gem holds the worth it promises. There’s such a thing as ‘too good to be true’ in this world, young man, haven’t you heard it? A Class that allows you to command all kinds of mana… Do you even know what sort of Trials such a Class would face?”

Oh, he assumes this is all because of my Class. Guess he's not entirely wrong. I do have a tough trial.

“The rarity of it… For all I know, it can be above Divine. Close to Ancient, even, if there’s such a thing!” Master Archibald said, and eyed him. “You’ve been stuck at your First Trial for some time, yes? That must be the reason for it. Or else why would a Mage like you have any trouble dealing with a mere First Trial? Now it makes sense… It sure does.”

“I appreciate the concern, Master Archibald.” Valens rose slowly from his chair. “But I don’t believe there’s any merit in speaking of things beyond our control. So, let us focus on the Guild business, shall we? I presume I deserve a good spot in your ranks.”

Master Archibald stopped. “You do,” he said with a thoughtful frown. “A Master’s position, you will get. Our protection, too, should you get involved with troubles of certain states.” His eyes narrowed down at him, and all at once, the master looked like a man deep in his suspicions. “But if your purpose for joining this guild was to seek help with whatever Trial you’re facing, I’m afraid you’ll find none here.”

“Oh,” Valens laughed. “That wasn’t my intention at all. I’m here simply for academic reasons.”

“Academic reasons?”

“Yes,” Valens nodded. “We all have our demons, have we not, Master? It is our duty to face them alone in the stretches of our minds. Although certain matters seem more grave than others, I came to realize that it’s truly a matter of experience. For if you deal in dark things, past a point they start not looking all too complicated to you.”

“Dark things…” Master Archibald echoed. “You didn’t choose that special class out of ignorance, did you? You knew the risks.”

“I had my reasons,” Valens nodded. “I don’t regret anything.”

That’s a lie. I didn’t get to pick anything, but then, I was never too picky with anything.

Master Archibald gazed deeply at him. “Very well,” he said, face easing. “I can respect a Mage’s determination even if it seems foolish at first glance.”

“It’s funny you say that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve found in the short time since I ventured off into the wide world that being a fool is not necessarily a bad thing,” Valens said. “Quite the opposite, in fact, there’s some wisdom in being the fool if you’re out searching for the truth. After all, that’s what we call the brave before they’ve proved their wisdom, right?”

“Right…”

“Now, before we move on with my application, let me first do a check on those lungs,” Valens said. “It pains me to see a Master struggling with something so trivial. This way, I can show you my take on Healing Magic as well.”

Master Archibald looked blankly around him. “Here?”

“Oh, either chair is fine,” Valens pointed at the pair of chairs in the room. “It won’t take too long. Just a simple operation.”

“Ah…” the old man nodded weakly. “Sure. Should I lie down?”

“Face-first, please,” Valens smiled. “You might feel a little sting.”

“Sting?”

“Just some mild pain,” Valens nodded. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

Then he waited for the old man to take his place and moved over to him in calm silence. Felt like no matter where he went, he always found himself in the same situation.

Such is the fate of being a Healer.

….

Underneath the Golden Cathedral, Garran stood against the bastard the police recently caught in the poor ring of Belgrave, with Dain by his side. Rather than waiting for him to wake up, Garran instead leaned in and tapped a finger to his head.

“Uh..." the convict mumbled as he blinked round at him, then his face changed as he jerked himself this way or that against the chains. "What is happening?” he screamed. “What is the meaning of this—“

“Don’t be a fool, Jack. Being a fool earns you shit in this world. Speak! Who gave you that book?” Garran slapped the man across the neck, sending his chair stumbling to the back wall. The bastard banged his head first, then the back of the chair bounced stiffly from the stone, the wooden legs finding their balance after rattling loudly in the cell.

“I am just a simple man!” the prisoner yelled. “I don’t have anything to do with—“

“You’re a fucking rat. A little, fat, toothless rat, Jack,” Garran cut him off when Dain moved over to the chair, the side of his neck stretched tight. His sense of justice wasn’t something this interrogation demanded. Not this soon, at least.

“I don’t know anything!” Jack screamed, the cloth wrapped around his eyes wet with tears. “Release me! Please! I have kids—“

“Rats don’t scream,” Garran leaned in, and removed the cloth gently from the man’s face. No need to be too harsh about this. They had all the night ahead of them. “They screech, and squeak, but guess even a shithouse has its share of lying filth."

“Silth,” Dain mumbled.

Jack slowly came to himself. He stared suspiciously around him, beady eyes peering about the dark walls, looking into the corners and the bars behind them, searching for a hole or a tiny crook. Then, he took sight of the company he was blessed with, and he went still.

“Templars…”

“You guessed it,” Garran jerked a thumb at Dain with a beaming smile. “He knows his business, you have to give him that.”

“Uh,” Dain grunted.

“But then, that’s about the limit of that tiny brain, isn’t it?”

“Yef,” Dain said.

“So what do you call a rat caught by the tail?” Garran mused.

There was silence.

Garran didn’t like it. He jabbed lightly at the prisoner’s shoulder. “Are you deaf? I’m speaking to you. Answer!”

“Ah!” Jack flinched like he was poked with a burning poker. “I-I don’t know!” he spattered just then.

“A dead fucking rat!” Garran hissed at his face. “You’re dead meat now, Jack, and you went way above your head with this one.”

The fool was a mason’s apprentice who worked late hours all week long, for years straight, in a job that paid as much about nothing. That was the deal with an apprenticeship. You were promised a good job, but not before you suffered long enough to earn it. So then, an occasional case of pickpocketing was something you would expect from a man like Jack.

What you wouldn’t expect, however, was for him to be involved in dark things.

“Spreading the name of the Wretched Mother across the poor, have you? Ancient rituals of her court, eh? That’s some dark business you’re into, Jack. Now I’ll ask you nicely. Who gave you that damned book?” Garran demanded.

“I don’t know!” Jack screeched like a dying rat, face gone completely pale.

“You don’t know,” Garran nodded. “Ignorance is one thing we all have to suffer from on a daily basis. I do, however, find an occasional reminder works wonders in such cases. Shall we try it?”

Shivering, Jack looked at him.

Garran sprang forward, one hand clenched tight into a fist, the damp air of the cell pressing upon his shoulders. He seized Jack by the collar of his soiled shirt, yanked him closer and planted a fist round the side of his right ear. His fingers crunched into solid stone. He looked down.

Jack shrank into the chair, his eyes screwed shut like he could squeeze the terror out of himself.

“You’ve lied to the police,” Garran said, slowly removing his wrist from the wall, gravel sprinkling down from his hand. His skin looked heavenly soft, hardly affected by the punch. Good. He was about to smile when a stray pebble caught his eye, which stuck to the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt.

I’ll have to change again. Shit. This shirt was new.

“I didn’t lie,” Jack spat, tears trickling down his face. “I told them the same thing. I don’t know anything about that book. I don’t remember… doing any of those things.”

“Alright,” Garran nodded, and tapped the man on the shoulder. “If you don’t remember, there are two ways we can go about this.”

“W-What ways?”

Garran pointed at the man’s hands. “We’ll start with the fingers. Take a good tour round them one by one. There’s something motivating about the sound bones make when you twist them just enough. Makes a man see things in a different way.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Jack wailed. “I don’t remember anything—“

“Hold on a second,” Garran shut him off. “I wasn’t finished. You’re lucky that we still have the other way. There’s been a new recruit to the Golden Ward. Fresh blood, you might say. A Healer, really, when you think about it.”

“Healer?”

“A damn fine one,” Garran nodded. “Unlike Hexmenders, he’s rather gentle with brains. Doesn’t make a soup of them, for one. You want him?”

“I—“ Jack paused, swollen eyes staring at the pair of them. There was not a single bruise on his skin. Even his shirt was smooth if a little dusty. They had done nothing to the man, yet. That was the policy. Give them a chance to come clean. This was Garran giving him that chance.

What you will do with it, though, depends on you. Be careful with your words, Jack. Be very careful.

“I told you I don’t know anything,” Jack muttered, pinching his eyes shut, leaning his head back to the cold walls. A man spent in body and soul, but still refusing to cooperate.

“He’s a fool,” Garran looked at Dain. “I say we don’t disturb Val on his off-day. He hasn’t even given his oath yet.”

If our way doesn’t work, we can call him later.

Dain nodded. There was an eager glint in his eyes as he neared the prisoner.

Garran sighed.

The capital… He had to admit he didn’t miss this place.

……freeweɓnovel.cøm