Control Comes from Within

“You have one hour to complete the written half of this assessment. Once you are finished, raise your hand and a monitor will escort you outside to perform your practical. Any signs of cheating, misconduct, or any sort of malfeasance will be handled to the fullest extent of the rules. You may begin…now!”

I flipped over the question paper, my hand hovering over the empty answer sheet that was waiting for me to fill it.

The first question made me wonder if I had studied too much, or if the academy had a lower bar for learning than I did, as it was entirely too easy.

The second question caused my eyes to widen, as it was far more difficult than the first question.

And the third question made me chuckle as it was only tangentially related to nature magic at all.

What is nature magic capable of, broadly speaking?

The Great Enemy, for all that they are a blight upon the world, have been massively constrained to the Northern Continent for millenia due to the Grand Barrier of the Ancestors. What role did nature magic play in constructing the Barrier and its cousin, the Wall of the World? Enumerate at least three contributors who were vital to the construction of these two creations, as well as their major contributions to the overall effort.

Under what conditions is the Bheruvian seed unable to sprout and mature? Describe the process by which any limitations, natural or otherwise, would be dealt with.

I jotted down the answers as they came to me, recalling the incident where a certain professor was winking obviously when asked if the subject covered that day would be on the assessment.

Nature magic is said to be the first magic from which all others branched out. In general terms, it has numerous capabilities, including but not limited to: elemental manipulation, terrain manipulation, plant growth and decay, controlling naturally found poisons, toxins, and venoms, taming beasts, weather manipulation, and enhancing sensory abilities…

The Grand Barrier of the Ancestors is often lauded as the pinnacle of what true magic is capable of. One of its functions is limiting the strength of the monsters contained within through the use of nature magic. The ‘life layer’ as it was dubbed, was the result of three people working in conjunction. The Lord of Life, an elder of the elves whose name is lost to time. Agrafein the Merciful, a member of the exalted Dragon tribes of the beastfolk, who possessed an uncanny aptitude for both space and nature magic. And the man whose name is immortalized in the highest title afforded to human nobility: Duuk of Clan Gurtwuud, who sacrificed the remainder of his life to act as an anchor for the Grand Barrier, ensuring no monster could cross its bounds while he was tied to it. These heroes are heralded as the…

The Bheruvia plant has no seeds, reproducing through spores instead. Ensuring the soil where it grows is fertile is easily accomplished by…

The rest of the exam continued in a similar manner, with the questions varying in difficulty as they progressed. Only one question truly stumped me, but that was because it truly was stupid. Who knows when the first case of rashes occurred as a result of using a poisonous leaf to wipe? Why did that even matter? And who approved putting that question on the final test?

Shaking my head to clear the passing thought in anticipation of the upcoming practical, I raised my hand, waiting for a monitor to escort me outside. I didn’t have to wait long before one approached and silently gestured for me to follow, as I grabbed my bag and threw my quill and inkwell back into it as I headed outside.

The practical assessment was held behind the magic building where the written tests were held. I and the monitor, a fourth-year student who only volunteered for the position due to the points it rewarded, made our way to where a panel of five teachers stood chatting amongst themselves, none of the seriousness of exams anywhere present. Though that might have been due to the presence of a certain magenta-haired professor who was exuberantly discussing something with the others.

The normally empty grassy field was stocked with numerous collared animals and rows of potted plants, no doubt meant for the practical.

“Ahem.” The monitor let out a rather loud cough to draw the attention of everyone before returning to the classroom.

“Ah, sorry about that, young man. Would you…?” The professor gestured for me to come closer, and I did, handing him my answer papers once I had done so.

“Ah, Rhaaj! I thought I recognized you! How are you?” Professor Rhubadesh asked me all too cheerfully.

“I’m fine, Professor, thank you for asking. If you don’t mind, can we proceed with the practi–”

“Yes, yes, the assessment! I knew I was forgetting something! Alright, what does he need to do, again?” She turned to her colleagues in confusion, who took over from her in overseeing my performance.

“Manipulation, sensing, plants, and taming, in that order please, student.” A smiling man said as he looked at me. “Go at whatever pace is comfortable for you, though I must inform you that taking too long will merit a deduction of marks,” he apologetically stated, as if I didn’t already know.

The assessment proceeded as smoothly as the blood magic one had, though there were no stares or pointing or hastily erected wind walls for privacy. All manipulation was easy if you knew how to replicate the initial sensation, so that’s what I did, trusting my instincts. Sensing was a mite harder, but not enough to be noteworthy. Plant manipulation, growth, and decay were easy enough, but communicating via plants was something I feared I’d never be able to do well.

Taming was as easy as breathing, though I eschewed using Khime’s spell in favor of the academy-taught one, albeit without the chanting, which I had largely not needed to use in any of my casts.

In hindsight, I performed well enough to pass, but in the moment, I couldn’t help obsessing over every perceived mistake I made before they dismissed me and I rushed to the library to study.

My upcoming exam would be even easier, and I would only have to study half as much as I usually would. Dragonspeak, more formally known as the beastfolk language, would be the easiest exam for me, mainly because I had ‘hacked’ the translation spell once again.

I simply imagined a little ‘on-off’ switch connected to the spell that had a label called dragonspeak. The first time I tried it out in class, I nearly caused a scene as I heard Professor Tu say, “Krygoasd, sho hello apinu! Veluthd, er geth micuy ra good morning!”

Needless to say, I had become more adept and less squeamish when it came to tinkering with the translation spell. Now, I just had to imagine the entire thing as a switchboard with different on/off switches for each language I knew. There was one for English, French, beastfolk, and what I was calling ‘Vorander World - Human’.

This world had no name, and while it may have started out as a joke at first, I couldn’t be bothered to come up with a more apt name, so it stuck.

Getting back on track, to pass the beastfolk language exam, all I had to do was ensure the switches labelled ‘English’, ‘Vorander World - Human’, and ‘Vorander World - Beastfolk’ were all turned on so I could understand them all at the same time. Unfortunately, I couldn’t add a switch for ‘elvish’ and just immediately know how to speak it. I would have to put in the work and have at least a rudimentary understanding of the language in order for it to function, according to multiple tests.

The written test was where I had trouble, despite the translation spell working perfectly fine. A lot of the characters had counterparts that looked similar, but had vastly different meanings. Thankfully, as Professor Tu reassured the class multiple times, it was mostly an oral language, with much of the written aspect being entirely ignored, even by the beastfolk themselves.

The practical assessment was a joke, and I displayed an uncharacteristic amount of self-control in restraining myself when I had to manually adjust the mental switches on the translation spell on the fly in order not to burst out in laughter.

General combat only had a practical aspect, and I’d like to think I performed…adequately.

It felt almost identical to most classes run by Sir Yalmaar in the later half of the year. Running laps, running through a random obstacle course, which was made with the help of a nature mage, weapon drills, techniques, stances, forms, combinations. These were things pounded into every student’s head over and over again until they became second-nature.

Sparring was where I likely did the worst, comparatively. Students were put into random pairs and made to demonstrate their combat skills. I dodged more often than I blocked, which somehow counted against me, but I was never knocked to the ground by anyone, even if it was close a couple times. My mace and bastard sword saw a decent amount of use, as did my magical tower shield, which I stuck to for consistency despite any questions that may have arisen as a result.

Eventually, the sparring ended, and I stumbled back to my dorm, in desperate need of a shower.

Thankfully, I had two whole days in which I could cram for the final exam: healing.

The library, which was usually as barren as a ghost town, was overflowing with students, every seat and bit of floor space completely occupied as many attempted to learn a year’s worth of curriculum in a few nights.

I headed back to my room as soon as I saw the silent yet overwhelming ocean of bodies in the library. My time was better spent poring over my notes than attempting to use the library while it was filled to bursting.

There were no social gatherings during the two weeks that exams were held, for which I was truly grateful. I already had enough on my plate at the moment.

Finally, the date of the last assessment arrived.

I slung my shoulder bag across my chest as I headed out of my dorm room and saw the locked door in front of me. Su’jiif, and some of the other fourth-years, had decided to do some field research outside of the academy while the majority of students were making the campus borderline unlivable.

I put him out of my mind and pulled out my notes on healing again, trying to memorize the diagrams of every internal organ and their functions in the short walk over to the classroom.

In the end, there was no reason for me to worry.

The written test wasn’t hard, it just had tedious sections. Like having to draw and re-draw the circulatory, skeletal, and muscular systems all overlapping each other while undoing any errant mistakes.

The practical test, if it could be called that, was just as easy, if not more so.

Usually, other professors would oversee the practical assessments to deny any claims of partiality or favoritism, but Teacher Passen had apparently pulled some strings in order to perform that role for all his students.

His teaching philosophy was that spells can always be learnt later. But knowledge must be the foundation upon which everything else bloomed, or else magic would fail to produce any results. He prioritized theory over practice, and so the practical assessment only saw him asking everyone to do the minor spells that he felt we could handle without causing harm. The spells for closing a small scratch, healing bruises, and scabbing over a small wound were all demonstrated as he injured himself repeatedly, out of his own volition, so that students could demonstrate the spells for him.

I asked him after I finished as to why he would do such a thing. He replied that it wasn’t a big deal as he was the most qualified to judge their expertise, fix any unintentional damage, and that this was the most expedient solution once he turned off his sense of pain.

I asked him how to do that, and he rolled his eyes, saying it would be covered next year.

Finally, all my exams were finished, and I wouldn’t have to worry about the results until they arrived, which wouldn’t be until after an arguably more important event finished.

The Founder’s Festival.